RHWHEG – Chapter 11 Rescue in the Water

How could there be someone here?

The sewage quickly surged into the drainage channel. But the man below still clung tightly to the ground with his hands, refusing to be swept away. Only his mouth and nose barely pressed against the opening of the drainage channel, breathing through the tiny gaps between the rushing water. It wouldn’t be long before he drowned!

Yu Qunqing felt those hands looked extremely familiar. But he didn’t stop to think—he immediately pried open the bars of the drainage channel, then dragged the person out from the torrent. The man’s body was covered in serious wounds, blood gushing everywhere.

“These hands… could it be the Whetstone?”

Yu Qunqing finally recalled the memories from his previous life—more precisely, memories of those hands.

In his past life, within the weapon-repair warehouse of the shelter, there had been a pair of bone claws—ten fingers that could cut through iron like mud, capable of grinding disaster stones of all shapes into precise forms, manufacturing pure disaster-stone bullets and fine instruments.

At first, no one dared to approach, saying the bone claws still retained their forearms and part of the ribcage—too horrifying. Later, the shelter dismantled the finger bones into individual pieces. Then people lined up in long queues, waiting to use them for sharpening weapons.

Yu Qunqing had never needed them, but he had studied those bone claws for a long time. Now, holding this stranger’s hand, cold as jade, he immediately knew—this was the Bone Claw himself.

At that moment, those hands suddenly clamped onto Yu Qunqing’s arm, almost scraping off a layer of flesh. With what little breath he had left, the man pleaded desperately:

“Please… save them…”

From the side of the drainage channel, a few more fingers emerged, along with mouths trying hard to press against the bars—opening and closing in huge gasps, but only swallowing water, like carp being fed.

Yu Qunqing pushed the man aside and said firmly: “I won’t just stand by and watch them die.”

He picked up an iron rod, intending to pry open the other bars of the drainage channel. But this time, the grille didn’t budge at all. Shining his flashlight down, he discovered an even stronger force was pulling from below. The people under the water were holding on to this one opening of light with the last of their willpower.

“Where did you come from?!” Yu Qunqing shouted through the rain.

“The subway… we tried to avoid the third and fourth ring roads, so we went through the subway. We came from Dongjiang Prison.”

The man he had saved spat out dirty water as the rain washed blood off his face. It was Sun Min, who had escaped from prison. They had been unbelievably lucky to avoid the surface calamities, but when the torrential rain came, floodwaters swept them away, slamming them into tunnels until they were battered and bleeding.

Yu Qunqing’s heart sank. So the drainage channel led to the subway… That meant the pipes below were even more complex, forming whirlpools that trapped the grilles tightly.

“Can you still move? Do you understand me?” Yu Qunqing grabbed Sun Min and shouted in his ear.

Sun Min had struck his head and his limbs were weak, but he still nodded.

Yu Qunqing dragged him forward. Suddenly, Sun Min struggled violently, shouting: “I have to save them! I have to save them! Grandma! Uncle Zhang!”

Yu Qunqing turned his head, avoiding Sun Min’s sharp fingernails, and finally dragged him to a corner where the water reached waist level. He pressed Sun Min into the water for three seconds, then lifted him back up.

Coughing up a mouthful of water, Sun Min stared at him wide-eyed, confused and terrified. Through the rain curtain, Yu Qunqing’s face was expressionless. At least he’s calmed down, Yu Qunqing thought.

“If you separate the bars here, they’ll be able to flow out with the current.”

Yu Qunqing quickly returned to the spot. He knew every second’s delay added more pressure to those trapped below, so he chose the fastest method.

Kneeling in the water, he pried open each finger of those clinging hands one by one.

The people underwater didn’t understand why he was doing this—their lips trembled, bubbles pouring out of their mouths. Yu Qunqing raced against time, struggling with their desperate will to live.

There were about five people below. Old hands, slender hands, thick-jointed hands. Even after their fingers were pulled apart, they tried to grab at something, but Yu Qunqing gave them no chance. He saw bloodshot eyes staring up from beneath the water, filled with despair.

The next second, one by one, living people burst out of the water at the corner ahead like fish.

Sun Min staggered back as they collided into him, grabbing Uncle Zhang, then tossing him aside, then finally holding onto an elderly woman. Yu Qunqing helped lift the soaked survivors from the water.

Shivering, Sun Min stammered endless words of gratitude.

“Can you still walk?” Yu Qunqing shouted—every word had to be yelled through the storm.

“I can! I’ll support them!” A young woman, about twenty years old, was the first to get up. She had learned diving and had the best stamina. She shouted: “Xiao Min, you support Grandma and Xiao Jin. I’ll support my dad and A’Nan!”

There were six of them in total.

Yu Qunqing, carrying his heavy bow case, said: “This way. Hold on to the wall.”

The rain poured harder, the flood rising higher. The lighter ones could barely stand. They formed a single-file line, leaning against the wall as they walked.

Yu Qunqing noticed a shadow behind them. He pulled out the strange Moonlight Lamp.

A glowing planet floated across the water’s surface, leaving the others astonished.

“Follow the light. There’s a safer place ahead.”

Carrying the bow case, Yu Qunqing moved to the back of the line.

Sun Min stepped forward first: “What are you doing? Ah… it’s the Tree Prison Flies!”

Behind them, a great stretch of green forest was being swept closer by the flood. Beneath the canopy lurked scarlet compound eyes. The tree-bodied flies had no real roots, so they were easily carried by the current. Their fruit-fly bodies hid inside the canopy, waiting for the chance to strike prey.

The floating greenery stretched for over a hundred meters, like a drifting patch of algae.

“I’ll help you!” Sun Min volunteered, pulling out some small white fragments of disaster stone. “We… we only have these left…”

There were so many Tree Prison Flies behind them that he wasn’t sure whether these fragments would even work. But the water flowed faster than they could walk—if they didn’t fight back, death was certain.

The other five survivors didn’t flee on their own. They just pressed against the wall, watching, their faces shrouded in despair.

“Alright.”

Yu Qunqing took half the fragments, then tossed his bow case onto a roadside tree and climbed up himself, safe for now from the rising flood.

Opening the bow case, he revealed six compound bows of different draw weights and axle lengths, along with a hundred bladed arrows. Yu Qunqing selected the one with the longest range, attaching magnesium-copper powder and a small disaster stone to the arrowhead.

The arrow flew—like a meteor, streaking out a hundred meters in the blink of an eye, striking one of the fruit-fly bodies.

A burst of brilliant white light exploded.

The surrounding buildings seemed to come alive, their outer walls appearing to breathe like layers of scales. Yet, if anyone dared to approach, they would realize it was actually a dense swarm of moths drawn to flame. Their dazzling wings opened and closed, covering the entire structure.

The moths immediately lunged at the Tree-Prison Flies, overwhelming the green forest swarm. Sparks occasionally flared from their friction, only to be extinguished by the heavy rain.

“Ah!” Someone cried out, only to clamp their mouth shut the next second. That person pointed frantically toward the water. Under the eerie moon-like lamp’s glow, one could see countless broken moths underwater, struggling to crawl along the ground. Many had shed their wings, revealing half-meter-long multi-legged bodies that made one’s skin crawl.

They immediately followed Yu Qunqing’s example, scrambling up the street trees with both hands and feet.

The Tree-Prison Flies and moths drained each other’s strength, and the whole swarm seemed momentarily stalled.

Yu Qunqing drew another arrow. This time, he didn’t use magnesium powder or disaster stone. Once loosed, the arrow fell into the middle of the Tree-Prison Flies’ formation. A loud explosion erupted, rubble blasting apart to reveal a small alley. Some of the swarm was swept away by the current, shattering their formation in an instant. Scattered like this, they would no longer pose much threat if encountered again.

A third arrow was quickly set on the bowstring. Electricity flickered faintly along the shaft, building power.

“Bang!”

The lightning-charged arrow shot straight into a car at the front of the swarm. Purple sparks rippled out, the water’s surface detonating violently, smoke billowing as steam surged upward. A nearby traffic light screeched as it collapsed, dragging down live wires that completely blocked the Tree-Prison Flies’ advance. Flames sank into the water, triggering secondary explosions from unknown sources, blasting deep wounds into the swarm’s tree-like bodies.

The survivors perched in the trees were stunned by Yu Qunqing’s precision. They watched as he slung his bow case over his shoulder, leapt down, and said simply, “Move.”

The Tree-Prison Flies weren’t fully wiped out, but with so many people around, he couldn’t unleash his full strength. Yu Qunqing adjusted his plan.

“So hot!” The moment they stepped into the flood again, cries of surprise escaped—the water carried residual heat from the blast. But they quickly shut their mouths, following Yu Qunqing’s guiding lamp in tense silence, both fearful and reverent.

After several hundred meters, the shadows behind them finally disappeared, only for a hazy white mist to appear ahead. Within it, a dark human-shaped figure drifted slowly.

A Grade-G disaster—Mist Phantom!

This calamity was entirely formed of mist, with an untouchable shadow inside. No weapon could harm it; only extreme cold or disaster-stone powder could freeze it.

Once again facing danger, Sun Min and the others instinctively turned to Yu Qunqing. Sure enough, he already had a plan: “We’ll go around.”

There’s a vast difference between panicked flight and an orderly retreat. Even though Yu Qunqing had done nothing this time, Sun Min’s group still felt his choice must be correct, and their trust in him grew stronger.

At last, they reached the outer wall of a residential complex. An elderly man in their group was slowing down, almost unable to keep up. Instead of leading them a kilometer further to the main entrance, Yu Qunqing pulled out a rope and hoisted them inside one by one.

The moment they entered, the rain felt lighter. Outside the wall, the flood reached chest height, but inside it barely rose above their thighs.

“There… there’s some kind of protective barrier here…” whispered a woman named A’nan, tears of relief welling in her eyes.

“There are props this powerful?” Uncle Zhang, badly wounded but still clear-headed, tapped on a small Saturn-shaped lamp floating on the water. It hovered perfectly in place, unaffected by moths, clearly not of this world’s technology.

Sun Min supported his grandmother, draping his jacket over her head even though it did nothing against the rain. They trudged slowly.

Yu Qunqing dragged over an inflatable raft he had tied earlier, pushing it to Sun Min. “We’ll head to the residential block to shelter from the rain.”

With the raft, their speed increased. Still, the water rose rapidly. Even with the barrier, the flood soon reached waist height for adults.

Yu Qunqing led them to Building Four. Smashing the glass door, he guided them through the emergency stairs up to the second floor—at last, a dry place.

The Saturn lamp floated in the center of the hall, casting its glow. On one side was a gym, on the other a massage room. Their soaked clothes dripped steadily onto the floor. The rain roared outside. No one spoke—all eyes fixed on Yu Qunqing.

In his mind, the system blared:

“Current building materials: -2434. Please repay immediately. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Yu Qunqing: “I have to pay just for bringing them in?”

System: “Building Four, Second Floor entrance fee—1000 materials per person. Thank you for your cooperation.”

He checked the “Material Explosion” event, only to find it had ended at midnight. So far, he knew of two ways to gather materials: the special event, or “Game Mutual Aid” at the central fountain. But with nonstop rain for a week, moving around would be nearly impossible.

Yu Qunqing: “What happens if I don’t repay?”

System: “Ding-dong! The game will lock you down and forcefully deduct. Please do not attempt evasion! If you are short on materials, you can also recharge with real money!”

Why did a match-3 game have so many pay-to-win mechanics?

Yu Qunqing’s expression flickered between joy and sorrow, eyes half-lidded. Those who knew him would recognize this as his serious thinking face—also known as zoning out.

But the rescued group didn’t know that. They glanced nervously at one another, until finally Sun Min stepped forward, stammering:

“Uh, hello… we, um, I… I’m Sun Min, a Level-1 ability user. My ability is claws—I can help fight off disasters…” As he remembered Yu Qunqing’s three arrows against the Tree-Prison Flies, his voice grew smaller and less certain.

The others followed, hurriedly introducing themselves one after another.

Yu Qunqing soon pieced together their situation. There were mainly two families:

Uncle Zhang’s, including his daughter Zhang Sanxi—the strong swimmer—and her classmate Anan.

Sun Min’s, with his grandmother, plus their neighbor Xiao Jin.

“I’m just a delivery guy,” Xiao Jin admitted, wincing at the white, water-logged wounds on his feet. “But I’ve got strength—I can handle heavy work.”

Quick-tongued Zhang Sanxi added firmly, “I’ve trained in first aid. I can bandage wounds and identify medicine.”

“Ah? I…” Her classmate Anan froze, unable to answer until Zhang nudged her sharply. Flustered, she blurted, “I—I graduated from Agricultural University… I can grow things…” Relief flickered across Zhang’s face, while Anan blushed at her own exaggeration.

It felt like a life-or-death job fair—everyone flaunting their skills, real or imagined, terrified that this bow-wielding man might abandon them, leaving them to another East River Prison disaster.

Yu Qunqing politely gave his name as well. Then, shifting the subject, he reassured them: “Don’t worry. I’m not in charge here.”

He turned his gaze outside, and the others followed.

The most striking sight was the massive fountain at the center. A stone-carved crocodile, standing atop a planet, loomed menacingly. The garden flood was even deeper, and a dark shadow moved swiftly through it.

Everyone’s eyes widened in horror.

From the murky depths, a colossal beast over ten meters long swam into view. Two eerie moonlamps appeared, first illuminating its sinister vertical pupils, then its jagged fangs, then sliding along the scales down to its massive tail—its entire monstrous form revealed. It looked like a crocodile, yet far more oppressive, as if this were how ancient crocodiles once truly appeared.

The so-called Ancient Crocodile—actually just a crocodile with a sea-dragon skin applied—approached Building Four. Finding no elevator, it gave its tail a casual sweep, sending a wave of water splashing into the second floor, drenching everyone once again.

“This is its territory,” Yu Qunqing explained.