The landing zone at the edge of the Serenitea Pot awoke in the dim light of dawn. Beyond the massive barrier wall, the Black Tide churned restlessly, while inside, order was maintained like the turning of precision gears. Madam Ping stood stooped beside the boundary gate, her cloudy yet sharp gaze sweeping over every flatbed cart and Electro-rail carriage laden with supplies as they rolled out. The pungent smell of disinfectant hung heavy in the air. Quarantine personnel in specialized protective suits stood with sprayers, meticulously sanitizing wheel tracks, cargo crates, and even the soles of people's shoes. Occasionally, scattered survivors recently rescued from the outside world, their faces still wearing the blank daze of shock, were guided toward the quarantine tent area for registration.
"Quick! The drilling platform in Sector B3 urgently needs this batch of reinforced white-iron drill rods!" A burly man who looked like a foreman wiped his sweat, loudly urging the Hilichurl laborers handling the cargo. Heavy wooden crates dragged across the rough ground, producing dull collision sounds. Supplies, acting like the lifeblood of the operation, pumped continuously from the heart of the Serenitea Pot, flowing out to drilling sites stretching like blood vessels across the continent of Teyvat. In the distance, at a newly added temporary weapon checkpoint, Millelith soldiers carefully checked pass after pass. Order was strained under pressure, but it did not snap.
In The Cha…
Chapter 161