Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

The fuel gauge needle is dropping.

He Yuanchao checked it every two minutes; the thin pointer looked like a bleeding wound, silently and continuously losing its life.

Thirty-eight percent.

Thirty-two percent.

Twenty-seven percent.

"Sir, we're running low on fuel." The pilot's voice tightened. "At this rate, we can only fly for another twenty minutes at most."

He Yuanchao did not answer.

His gaze swept across the terrain below through the cockpit windshield.

Allegheny Mountains.

The rolling mountain ridges resemble the spine of the earth, covered with dense broad-leaved forests. Occasionally, a river can be seen meandering through the valleys, its surface reflecting the greyish-white light of the sky.

There were no roads. No buildings. There was no flat, open space where a Black Hawk could land safely.

He Yuanchao glanced at the system map again.

About fifteen kilometers south of the current flight path, there is a marker – a river beach.

The riverbed is about 80 to 100 meters wide and more than 300 meters long. The terrain is flat, with low shrubs and pebble beaches on both sides.

enough.

Barely enough for one Black Hawk to land.

But three planes—need enough space to land one at a time.

"Change course, 15 degrees south." He Yuanchao pointed to a spot on the map. "There's a riverbank there, big enough for us to land."

The pilot adjusted the direction.

He Yuanchao turned on the onboard communicator.

"Aircraft two and three, change course with me. Prepare for an emergency landing."

The voice of the pilot of aircraft number two came through the intercom: "Aircraft number one, our fuel is almost empty too. The engine temperature is still too high—that full-speed flight earlier really burned the turbines."

"Unit three is in even worse shape." The voice of the third aircraft was tinged with obvious anxiety. "There's an unusual noise coming from the left engine; it's likely that the electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear explosion damaged the ignition control module. I'm not sure how much longer it can hold on."

He Yuanchao's brows furrowed slightly.

Electromagnetic pulse.

The high-energy electromagnetic radiation generated by a nuclear explosion is extremely damaging to electronic equipment. Although they had flown more than 300 kilometers away, the EMP coverage of a tactical nuclear bomb is already very wide, and the attenuation of propagation at high altitudes is much slower than at ground level—it is not surprising that the delicate electronic components on the helicopter were affected.

"Can Unit 3 hold out until it reaches the riverbank?"

"Do your best."

Twelve minutes later.

The riverbank appeared ahead.

From the air, the river is not wide, about twenty or thirty meters, and the current is gentle. The riverbank stretches out on the north side of the river, a gray-white pebble ground, with low shrubs and a few crooked willow trees on both sides.

He Yuanchao's first helicopter was the first to descend to a lower altitude.

The pilot was quite skilled—under conditions without any navigation aids, he relied on visual judgment and experience to steadily glide the Black Hawk down.

The landing gear bounced twice on the cobblestones, making a clattering sound.

Then it stopped.

Rotor deceleration.

The engine went from roaring to a deep rumble, and then slowly quieted down.

He Yuanchao pushed open the cabin door and jumped out.

His feet touched solid stone ground, and the feeling of jumping from the metal deck onto real earth made his legs bounce slightly.

The air is cold.

The air in the mountains—clean air, carrying the scent of pine resin and earth.

It's completely different from the cloyingly sweet chemical fumes of Raccoon City.

He Yuanchao took a deep breath.

It's been so long since I've breathed such clean air.

The second Black Hawk landed shortly after. It taxied for a distance and came to a smooth stop. Several survivors climbed out of the hatch, and one of them plopped down on a rock, refusing to move.

The third one—

He Yuanchao looked up at the sky.

The third Black Hawk is descending.

But its posture is not quite right.

The fuselage was tilted slightly, and an abnormal plume of black smoke was billowing from the engine exhaust port on the left. This smoke wasn't the grayish-white exhaust fumes from normal combustion; instead, it was a thick black mixed with oil and metal shavings, indicating a possible problem with the internal turbine blades.

"Unit 3, what's going on?"

"The left engine has completely failed!" The voice on the intercom crackled. "I'm operating with only one engine! The altitude drop is too rapid!"

He Yuanchao's heart sank.

The Black Hawk can fly with a single engine, but the difficulty of control will increase exponentially, especially during landing—the lift provided by a single engine is insufficient, and the descent speed will be much faster than normal.

If not handled properly, it won't be a landing, it will be a crash.

He Yuanchao ran a few steps toward the end of the riverbank and looked up at the helicopter that was wobbling and falling.

"Pull him up! Pull him up, don't lower him too quickly!"

"Can't hold it—the lever isn't responding—the hydraulic system is malfunctioning too—"

"Oh shit!"

He Yuanchao watched as the helicopter plunged into the woods on the north side of the riverbank at an angle much steeper than a normal landing.

The rotor blades grazed the tops of several trees—splitting branches into countless pieces.

Then the fuselage crashed hard into a thicket of bushes on the edge of the riverbank.

"Boom—crackle crackle—"

The sound of metal rubbing against stone was extremely grating.

The helicopter skidded a long rut on the ground, crushed several bushes, broke one of its landing gear pieces on impact, and tilted to one side.

Then it stopped.

There was no explosion.

He Yuanchao ran over.

Alice was even faster than him—her T-virus-awakened physical abilities allowed her to dash to the crashed helicopter like lightning.

The hatch was deformed from the impact and cannot be opened.

Alice tucked Beretta back to her waist, grabbed the edge of the hatch with both hands, braced her feet against the fuselage, and pulled hard—

"Gah—"

The sound of metal bending.

She forcefully pried the hatch open halfway.

Coughing and groaning sounds came from inside.

Someone was shouting, "Help—my leg is stuck—"

He Yuanchao crawled into the deformed hatch.

The situation inside was somewhat better than it appeared from the outside. The main structure of the cabin had not collapsed, but several seats and equipment inside had come loose during the impact and were lying in various places.

Seven people.

The two that can move on their own are already trying to climb out.

Three loose pieces of equipment and luggage were pressing down on it, making a fuss.

The pilot was still in the cockpit—the instrument panel was shattered in several pieces, and he had a bloody gash on his forehead, but he was conscious.

There's one more—

He Yuanchao saw the young woman.

He was one of the guys who came from the convenience store team. He was in his early twenties and had always been the kind of person who sat quietly in the corner and didn't talk much.

Her left leg was pinned down by a detached communication device.

The equipment weighs at least fifty or sixty kilograms.

He Yuanchao walked over, squatted down, and took a look.

The leg wasn't broken, but it was tightly compressed and couldn't move. If it dragged on any longer, blood circulation would be blocked, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

He gripped both sides of the communication device with his hands.

work hard.

"Um--"

The 50-60 kilogram iron lump in his hands was like a slightly heavy suitcase.

He lifted the equipment and tossed it aside.

It slammed against the bulkhead with a loud thud.

The woman was released, tears streaming down her face from the pain, but her leg was still there. She could move it.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes... thank you..."

He Yuanchao helped her up and handed her to the cabin door. The people outside took her from there.

The remaining two people who were trapped were also rescued one by one.

One sprained his ankle, and the other dislocated his shoulder.

No one died.

He Yuanchao took one last look at the now-destroyed helicopter.

The landing gear broke, the left engine was emitting black smoke, and the fuselage structure showed obvious twisting and deformation.

This thing can no longer fly.

"Three planes have become two." He silently noted this down in his mind.

But this is not important.

Because the remaining two aircraft didn't have enough fuel to fly anymore.

From now on—

With your feet.