Ten minutes is nothing when you're trying to move a crowd.
Zhao Qingshan started shouting orders right away. Soldiers ran to reinforce the inner gate line. Others moved civilians back from the lane with ropes and baton taps.
Civilians shouted back. Some helped. Some fought. Most just stared like their brains couldn't keep up.
The outer barrier shook again.
A fast scream cut through the rain.
Then another.
Zhou Qinsong was out there, quiet now, like he was enjoying the countdown.
Lan Huan stood still for a moment, eyes on the gate.
He Li came up beside him. "Sir," he said low, "if the outer barrier fails, we'll have fast ones inside again."
He Chenyu added, "And the gate lane will be a crush. We won't control it."
Qin Yi swallowed. "I can push the crowd back," he said, voice tight. "But I'll black out."
Lu Ziming's grin was gone. "I can build a second wall inside," he said. "But it'll take time."
Mu Yan looked toward med lane. "If they get in," he said quietly, "we'll lose med first."
Luo Yan's hands were cold.
He felt the bigger violet-threaded core in his pocket. He didn't touch it. He didn't dare.
He just watched Lan Huan.
Lan Huan finally spoke. "Clear the lane," he said.
Zhao snapped, "With what time?"
Lan Huan's voice stayed flat. "You have eight minutes," he said. "Use them."
Zhao stared, then barked orders harder, like anger was fuel.
Lan Huan turned away from the gate and walked into a wider patch of ground near the armory lane. Fewer civilians. More space.
He stopped in the open rain.
He took a slow breath.
Luo Yan's stomach tightened. He knew that posture now. The one Lan Huan had before lightning came.
But this was different.
This was heavier.
Lan Huan looked back once at his unit. His eyes landed on Luo Yan for half a second. Not a warning. Not a goodbye.
Just a look that said: stay alive.
Then Lan Huan lifted his hand.
Storm pressure hit like a weight.
The air changed. Not just cold. Not just wet.
Charged.
Hair lifted on arms. Metal hummed faintly.
Soldiers nearby froze and looked around, scared.
Zhao Qingshan swore under his breath. "He's doing it," he muttered.
Lan Huan's voice was low. Not shouted. Not for the crowd.
"Longyang," he said.
The name hit the air like a hook.
Thunder rolled above the base, too low, too close, like the sky had dropped.
Then lightning split the clouds.
Not a single strike.
A circle.
A bright ring over Lan Huan's head that made the floodlights look weak.
Wind slammed through the lane. It threw rain sideways. It rattled container doors.
People screamed. Some fell. Some covered their heads.
Zhao shouted, "Down! Get down!"
Luo Yan grabbed a civilian who stumbled and yanked him behind a crate without thinking.
Then the ring of lightning tore open.
Something moved inside it.
Big.
A long body, scaled, dark with a green-blue shine like jade under stormlight. Horns curved back. Eyes bright, not dead.
A dragon.
Eastern.
Not a fantasy illustration.
A real weight in the sky.
Longyang.
It didn't roar like a movie monster. It made a deep sound like thunder learning a voice.
The sound rolled across the base and into the gate lane.
Outside the gate, the fast screams stuttered.
Even the dead paused for a beat.
Zhou Qinsong's voice rose from outside, sharp for the first time. "So you weren't bluffing."
Lan Huan didn't answer him.
Longyang circled once over the base, tight, controlled, like it was tied to Lan Huan's breathing.
Then Lan Huan pointed toward the outer barrier.
Longyang dove.
Lightning trailed behind its body like a tail of pure storm.
It hit the outer barrier line not with teeth, but with force.
A hard slam of wind and lightning that pushed the zombie mass back like a wave hitting a wall.
Bodies flew.
The outer barrier stopped shaking for a moment.
Zombies fell in piles.
Fast infected shrieked and scattered.
The pressure eased.
Inside the base, people stared upward, mouths open, rain running down their faces.
For five seconds, nobody fought. Nobody shoved. Nobody argued.
They watched.
Then Longyang pulled up and circled back toward Lan Huan.
And Luo Yan saw the cost.
Lan Huan's face had gone pale. Sweat mixed with rain on his brow. His jaw was tight like he was biting pain in half.
His hand trembled.
Longyang's body flickered slightly at the edges, like it wasn't fully stable.
He Li moved closer, voice tight. "Sir, stop," he said.
Lan Huan didn't answer.
Longyang circled again, lower this time, staying close to Lan Huan like it was anchored to him.
Outside the gate, Zhou Qinsong shouted, "Open now! You've proven enough!"
Zhao Qingshan screamed back, "Go to hell!"
The outer barrier shook again, but lighter now. The zombie mass had been scattered.
Ten minutes bought.
Maybe thirty.
Maybe an hour.
Not safety. Just space.
Lan Huan lowered his hand slowly.
Longyang rose into the clouds, then vanished like a storm pulling its own body back into the sky.
The thunder faded.
The base noise returned in waves.
People started talking all at once. Crying. Laughing. Shouting "dragon" like the word could save them.
Lan Huan took one step.
Then his knees buckled.
Luo Yan's heart dropped.
He started forward—
He Chenyu grabbed him first, fast. "No," he snapped, low. "Not in the open."
He Li moved in and caught Lan Huan under the arm.
Zhao Qingshan ran up, face hard. "Get him inside," Zhao snapped. "Before the crowd swarms him."
They dragged Lan Huan behind an armory container.
Lan Huan's eyes were half-lidded. He was still awake, but barely.
He Li's voice was tight. "Sir, breathe."
Lan Huan exhaled once, rough.
Zhao glared at Luo Yan's group. "If he passes out, you carry him," he said. "And if that capital bastard tries again, you better have another miracle."
Luo Yan's stomach twisted.
Miracles were expensive.
And outside the gate, Zhou Qinsong's voice carried through the rain, calmer again.
"General Lan," he called. "You just showed everyone what you are."
There was a pause.
Then Zhou added, almost friendly, "Now I really want you."