Stronger with More Jobs

"Prepare to get off."

Fang Qingyu's voice resounded once more, and the atmosphere inside the vehicle had improved significantly.

The car came to a steady halt under the brightly lit building of the Divine Management Bureau.

It was evening, and the leaden gray sky pressed heavily down, the rain though light, carried a bone-chilling cold.

The hall, usually orderly, now buzzed with noise; countless uniformed or casually dressed staff wore grave expressions, moving hurriedly, clutching documents, pushing equipment. The air reeked of disinfectant, sweat, and an invisible tension.

When Fang Qingyu and his party of five stepped into the hall, their bloodstained, muddy, torn combat uniforms, and the lingering scent of smoke and blood, seemed to bring the chilling wind of the battlefield, instantly silencing the surrounding clamor.

Eyes turned uniformly toward them, shock, awe... complex emotions flowed silently.

The crowd instinctively parted to make way for these warriors who had just crawled back from the edge of Hell, as they walked toward the elevator.

The elevator gradually stopped on the 28th floor, and the doors slid open silently.

At this time, the 28th floor's lounge used to be a noisy sea, with gaming sound effects, laughter and cursing, the aroma of instant noodles, and shouts of forming teams for games echoing one after another.

But today, what greeted them was a suffocating silence.

Only half the lights were on, making it somewhat dim.

Outside the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the neon lights of the city blurred into indistinct spots of light in the rain, reflecting the few silhouettes inside.

Only less than ten people were scattered across various sofas.

No one spoke, nor was anyone playing games.

A few people hung their heads, fingers absentmindedly picking at the sofa edges, or staring at the cold water cups before them, eyes hollow.

In the corner, a team member was mechanically wiping a blunted short dagger with a blood-stained cloth, as if it were the only thing they could hold on to.

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and an oppressive wait.

The soft sound of the elevator door opening.

Like a stone dropped into a Dead Water Pond.

The few people jerked their heads up, eyes suddenly lighting up with intense hope, but when they saw it was Fang Qingyu's group instead of the figures they longed for, the light quickly dimmed, leaving only deeper fatigue and undisguisable disappointment.

A team member with abrasions on his face and his arm in a sling tugged at the corner of his mouth in a forced smile, speaking in a hoarse voice: "...Qingzi? Old Qin? You... you're back?" His gaze swept over their miserable condition and he added, with a complex sense of relief, "It's good to be alive... just to be back."

Fang Qingyu silently nodded in response.

Qin Hui, Old Qiao, and the others didn't speak either, merely walking to the empty sofas in the corner, their bodies sinking into the soft backrests as if letting go of a heavy burden, exhaustion instantly washing over them.

Qi Hao and Lv Chen also found spots to lay back, closing their eyes to rest.

Time flowed slowly in the oppressive silence.

Outside, the sky turned completely black, the sound of raindrops against the glass clearly audible.

Occasionally staff came in and out, bringing news about subsequent cleanup and injured personnel arrangements.

Fang Qingyu sat back on the sofa, holding the sleeping Jiang Wei, his eyes closed.

Just as the oppressiveness was about to congeal into something tangible...

The lounge door was suddenly pushed open.

A tall yet exceptionally weary figure appeared at the doorway.

It was Duan Ling!

Her combat uniform was covered in dark stains and coagulated blood, in some places torn revealing a similarly stained tight inner layer.

Her face unscathed, yet her complexion was that of overexerted pallor, lips cracked, eyes weighted with an inexpressible heaviness and near numb exhaustion.

The rain had wet her hair ends, strands sticking to her temples and cheeks.

Her presence instantly drew everyone's gaze!

"Sister Duan!"

"Sister Duan!"

Several team members sprang to their feet, eyes lighting up with surprise.

Duan Ling swiftly scanned the lounge, and upon seeing Fang Qingyu alive and sitting there, her tense jawline seemed to slightly relax, a barely perceptible, relieved light flickering deep in her eyes.

But immediately after, as she took in the lounge, seeing only these familiar ten or so faces, almost all injured, many still wearing expressions not entirely masking their grief, that light was quickly overshadowed by a deeper gloom.

She didn't approach anyone, instead dragging her heavy steps toward an empty sofa near the bed, almost collapsing into it, taking a deep breath, then slowly exhaling as if trying to flush out all the accumulated turbid exhaustion from her lungs.

Fang Qingyu watched her, refraining from immediately questioning.

The others also remained silent, all able to see that Duan Ling's condition was very poor, beyond just physical fatigue.

After a long while, Duan Ling finally lifted her head, her gaze settling on Fang Qingyu, her voice horribly hoarse, carrying the dryness of a long run:

"Outside... for now it's paused. You all... did well." She paused, seemingly organizing her words or calming some swirling emotions, "But... the troubles in Qingjian City are not over."

Her eyes grew exceptionally grave, carrying an inexplicable weight.

"Captain Lin encountered a Sinful Embryo Level Life Ghost during the cleanup of the outskirts when, in the direction of the city's west... 'Old Harbor District'... " Duan Ling's voice lowered, imbued with the powerlessness of facing a colossal entity, "...a super-large force field... unfolded without warning."