Pei Ran glanced at Shige Ye, bent down casually to pick up the coat on the ground, shook off the dust, and put it back on. Then, after taking a few steps, she lifted her foot and kicked the dagger and wristband farther away before finally stopping.
In the dim and shabby room, her eyes were bright as stars. She lowered her gaze to look at him, her face expressionless. One hand held his black leather notebook, while the other grasped a pen, its tip suspended with a drop of rich, fresh green light, on the verge of falling but not yet dripping.
Shige Ye was in utter disbelief.
She—this fish lying limply on the chopping block—had actually taken away his green light. Not only had she taken it, but she could even use it.
How was that possible?
Shige Ye had worried about this before, fearing that someone could easily snatch the green light away. Naturally, he had conducted experiments. He had once tried handing over a pen with suspended green light to one of his subordinates. But almost the instant he passed it out, that bit of green light had swiftly darted away from the pen tip and plunged right back into his body.
It recognized its master.
Shige Ye had heard about this kind of green light before. The Federation had individuals who had fused with green light, granting them special abilities. The National Security Department had even established a special division dedicated to managing these people, utilizing their abilities, and cooperating with them.
But according to the records, those individuals had only simple and largely useless abilities—nothing comparable to his.
He had to be the most unique one in the world. Only such a powerful green light would choose him as its master—no one else could take it away.
And yet today… how could this happen?
It had followed the pen and landed in someone else’s hands.
As Shige Ye’s thoughts descended into chaos, Pei Ran was also looking down at him.
This pervert now resembled a worm, utterly powerless. If she simply used her mechanical hand to grip his throat and twisted, everything would be over.
But Pei Ran suddenly changed her mind. She wanted to try something else.
She glanced at the black leather notebook.
Drawn on its pages was a figure lying on the ground. Right now, the only person still lying on the ground was Shige Ye.
He had been in a rush earlier and had only sketched a few strokes to outline the figure’s posture. Yet, because of his solid foundational skills, the structure and pose were flawless. However, he hadn’t had time to add any details, and since the figure was lying down with its face mostly hidden, it was unrecognizable.
The only distinguishing feature was the ponytail on the little figure’s head.
Pei Ran held the pen, and its glowing green tip touched the paper. With a few strokes, she crossed out the ponytail.
Crossing out should work—Shige Ye had erased the dialogue bubbles he had drawn before, and Pei Ran herself had crossed out sentences he had written.
Pei Ran then added a few strokes beside the little figure’s ears and shoulders, modifying the ponytail into half-length hair that draped down.
Her drawing of hair was too crude—when placed on the delicate little figure drawn by Shige Ye, it was like putting a messy, cheap wig on an exquisite doll.
Whether it looked good didn’t matter. What mattered was whether it worked.
Still uncertain, Pei Ran added three more characters beside the little figure: [Shige Ye]
Just like when cursing someone by stabbing a paper effigy, marking it with the person’s name and birth date.
Pei Ran wasn’t sure if the modification would actually take effect, so she added a line of text beside it:
[Suddenly fell ill, left arm lost strength, unable to lift it.]
If modifying the little figure on the page didn’t work, then this sentence would still apply to herself, and the worst outcome would just be a temporarily weak left arm. She could write another sentence to restore it.
Pei Ran twirled the pen between her fingers.
Her own left arm felt completely normal, with no changes at all.
But Shige Ye, who had been writhing and struggling on the ground, suddenly had his supporting left arm go limp. Caught off guard, his body collapsed back onto the floor.
She didn’t know whether the hairstyle change had taken effect or if writing the name had worked, but the modification on the little figure had succeeded.
Shige Ye lay on the ground, unable to fully prop himself up. He struggled to lift his head.
He saw the pair of eyes above Pei Ran’s tape-covered mouth suddenly narrow slightly.
She took a few steps back, then a few more, retreating almost to the doorway—far enough from him—before the tip of the pen once again touched the notebook.
Shige Ye had been drawing for so many years that he could recognize it instantly—her pen tip shifted, swiftly sketching an elliptical speech bubble with a small tail extending from the bottom.
Then, inside the bubble, she unhurriedly added a line of text.
A powerful wave of despair surged through him.
Pei Ran tilted her head slightly, glanced at him again, and leisurely twirled the pen between her fingers.
Shige Ye fought, resisted, struggling with everything he had, trying to use his rational mind and physical instincts to fight back.
But just like those people he had killed—the man in the plaid coat, the little girl with the scarf—his elegantly curved thin lips parted, and his vocal cords, as if moving on their own, produced sound.
The sharp ringing in his ears continued, and he could barely make out his own voice:
“Pig head, pig head, no worries when it rains. Others have umbrellas, I have a pig head…”
He wasn’t sure if he finished the last few words—maybe he did, maybe he didn’t have time to.
It had been over twenty hours since he last spoke, and his voice carried a dry, hoarse rasp.
Shige Ye, who had killed so many, suddenly understood the true terror of this kind of death—there was a gap between speaking and dying, and in those few seconds, time stretched unbearably, turning into an agonizing eternity.
In the last few moments of life, his heart was filled with the overwhelming terror of imminent death.
Beyond the fear, there was also intense shame.
Shige Ye had always known he would die one day, but he had never imagined that the cause of death would be uttering such an absurd and ridiculous phrase.
He had never in his life spoken such foolish words. He was supposed to be the prince standing above all others, forever elegant.
Even if she forced him to say just “Ah,” that would have been better. Why couldn’t she show some mercy and let him just say “Ah”?
She looked down at him coldly, unwilling to grant him even the last shred of dignity before death.
With a loud bang,
Blood and flesh splattered everywhere.
Pei Ran’s sense of distance was precise—not a single drop of blood landed on her.
She lowered her head and saw that as Shige Ye exploded, the bit of green light suspended at the tip of the pen also vanished without a trace.
Pei Ran felt a little disappointed, but she wasn’t willing to give up just yet. She capped the pen, clipped it onto the black leather notebook, and tucked the notebook into the pocket of her coat.
W’s voice suddenly sounded in her ear: “Pei Ran? I lost the target. Shige Ye is gone.”
“Mm,” Pei Ran responded. “I know. He’s dead.”
Shige Ye, this fusion body, had terrifyingly powerful abilities, yet she had managed to kill him so quickly. W fell silent for half a second before simply asking, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Pei Ran replied.
She quietly moved to the window, hiding behind the wall, cautiously peeking out through the glass. The row of antique cars in the courtyard remained parked in silence. No one was nearby—Shige Ye’s lackeys were probably still eating lunch.
“I’m coming upstairs now to get you out. You’re in the third room on the left, facing the courtyard, on the second floor, right?”
Pei Ran grasped the doorknob with her mechanical hand and gave it a hard pull.
The door was made of black synthetic material, with a simple lock embedded inside. A structure like this couldn’t withstand her strength—when she pulled, the doorknob, along with the lock, came off entirely.
A hole appeared in the door.
“Pei Ran,” W suddenly said, “don’t come just yet. I see someone passing through the hallway outside, heading downstairs. It’s that guy who follows Shige Ye—the one with the metal scorpion on his face.”
Scorpion Man. Shige Ye had ordered him to go eat earlier. It seemed he had finished his meal and returned.
W added, “Be careful. I see he’s carrying a gun.”
Pei Ran could already hear footsteps coming from the staircase.
The stairs directly faced the hallway outside the door. If she stepped out now, she would run straight into him. Pei Ran lowered her gaze to the broken doorknob in her hand, then at the hole in the door, and silently stuffed the handle back into place.
The broken piece barely wedged into the opening, trembling unsteadily. The footsteps outside grew closer, approaching from the staircase.
Pei Ran sidestepped, hiding behind the door.
The footsteps reached the entrance and halted—he must have noticed the twisted doorknob.
Now.
Standing right outside was Scorpion Man. He reached out to open the door, but the moment he noticed the strange state of the doorknob and froze in confusion, the door suddenly swung open.
A gloved black hand shot straight for his throat.
He had been a bodyguard for years, hardened by countless battles—not an easy opponent. His instincts took over instantly. His body arched backward, rolling onto the ground to evade Pei Ran’s attack. By the time he got back on his feet, he had already drawn a silver gun from his clothes.
But Pei Ran wasn’t that easy to shake off. She stuck to him like a shadow, closing the distance in an instant and grabbing hold of the gun. With a sharp burst of strength, she twisted.
Crack.
The gun’s components snapped apart, flying in all directions. The weapon was completely warped and destroyed.
Scorpion Man had spent the past two years following Shige Ye around the slums, seeing all kinds of illegally modified mechanical limbs—some modified in extreme ways—but he had never seen anything this brutal.
The gun in his hands had been specially acquired by Shige Ye through a unique channel. It was the latest product developed by the military’s research division, not yet mass-produced. Barely anyone in the entire Federation even owned one. The material was highly specialized and extremely durable—it was definitely not some cheap weapon.
Yet, with just a twist from the mechanical hand, the gun was completely ruined.
The owner of that mechanical hand had her face covered with tape. The pair of eyes above the tape were cold and emotionless, yet eerily calm—like someone who had twisted necks before and didn’t think much of doing it again.
Scorpion Man had an instinctive feeling that she had probably killed more people than he had.
A chill spread through his heart. He rapidly retreated, trying to get out of Pei Ran’s reach.
The gun in his hand was deformed, its components shattered, but the stock remained intact.
Scorpion Man retreated swiftly, and within seconds, he was already beside the metal staircase. He raised the gunstock and slammed it toward the stair railing.
In this silence, he couldn’t shout for help, so he had to make a loud noise instead. If the people on the second floor, still eating lunch, heard something unusual, they would immediately come out to assist him.
Pei Ran understood this clearly. The others might also have guns, and if they all came downstairs, she would be outnumbered, making the situation much harder to handle.
Scorpion Man had excellent judgment of the situation and acted decisively. Pei Ran darted forward, reaching for his wrist that gripped the gunstock.
Before her fingers could touch him, a soft pfft sounded.
Scorpion Man’s movements abruptly stopped.
A bullet hole had appeared in the middle of his forehead.
His eyes froze in place, staring blankly toward the second floor as his body slowly collapsed.
Pei Ran turned her head.
On the simple walkway made of iron plates above, the metal sphere was there.
Somehow, W had managed to reinstall his firing component with those unreliable folding arms of his.
He couldn’t see his own internal structure, nor did he know how he had blindly fumbled to reconnect his circuits—but he had done it. And he had even been careful enough to fire the shot in silence.
After delivering the perfect headshot, W didn’t stop. He was using his weak, unstable folding arms to support himself, slowly and arduously crawling toward the staircase.
The most crucial part?
That struggling metal sphere was dragging Pei Ran’s heavy backpack along with him.
Pei Ran: “……”
He had painstakingly reassembled his firing system, dragged his broken, barely functional body, and made his way here to back her up.
Pei Ran found it both ridiculous and a little touching. In three swift, cat-like steps, she leaped up the stairs.
The second floor was similar to the one below—a long row of dormitory-like rooms. Staying low to avoid being seen through the windows, Pei Ran moved silently along the corridor, then scooped up the metal sphere and her backpack in one motion.
“Next time, just take out the med kit separately. My backpack is way too heavy.”
W explained, “But your chips are in there too. I saved your chips. Does that earn me some relationship points?”
Playing the sympathy card.
Pei Ran knew exactly what he was doing. He could have just taken out the medicine and chips separately, but instead, he had chosen to put on a whole performance—dragging her heavy backpack across the floor while struggling forward, just to leave her with a dramatic, moving image.
He had to go all out like this.
But, she admitted, it was a little touching. The bag didn’t just hold her precious chips—it also had the water and rations she needed for the journey.
Pei Ran said, “Thanks.”
W calmly replied, “No need to thank me.”
Pei Ran crouched low, stealthily making her way back. “So, you were able to shoot that Scorpion Man just now?”
“Yes,” W answered. “He assisted Shige Ye in kidnapping, illegally detained you, and attempted to use a lethal weapon against you. You are an innocent citizen of the Federation. Under severe threat to your life, of course, I was allowed to shoot him.”
The “innocent citizen of the Federation” glanced at a nearby room, slowing her steps.
Near the doorway, a chair held a brown paper bag. Pei Ran caught sight of the printed words on it—
“Mad Crazy Fried Chicken.”
Pei Ran: !!!
This was the fried chicken mentioned in the novel—the Thursday menu item from the memo—fried chicken!!!
Crispy, golden-brown batter wrapped around flavorful, well-seasoned chicken. One bite, and the outside was fragrant and crunchy, while the inside remained tender and juicy.
Where had they even gotten fried chicken at a time like this?
The smell was wafting out of the bag, teasing her from this close.
She absolutely could not let this go.
Pei Ran crept to the doorway and peeked into the room.
Inside, several of Shige Ye’s lackeys were seated together, happily devouring fried chicken, thoroughly engrossed in their meal. The bag on the chair, presumably someone’s portion, hadn’t been picked up yet.
Seizing the opportunity, Pei Ran swiftly snatched the fried chicken bag from the chair and bolted.
W: “……”
The bag was still hot to the touch. The rich aroma filled the air as Pei Ran gripped her hard-earned prize and sprinted down the stairs.
As she passed Scorpion Man’s corpse, she glanced again at his gun.
W already knew exactly what she was thinking—she had just stolen their food, and now she was thinking about stealing their weapons. Her mind was completely occupied with L4-level theft behaviors. This so-called innocent Federation citizen didn’t look very innocent at all.
Putting aside her L4 criminal tendencies, W assessed the poor, battered gun.
“It’s too badly damaged. Also, this MR8_907 is a rare experimental military prototype. I have no idea how they got their hands on it, but finding replacement parts would be nearly impossible. You won’t be able to fix it.”
Pei Ran agreed. In the heat of the moment, she had been too rough—otherwise, she could have borrowed the gun for self-defense.
“Your military lets their weapons get taken this easily? That’s pretty weak.”
W remained silent.
Pei Ran stopped thinking about the gun and instead crept toward the parking area in the courtyard.
With everyone still busy eating lunch, it was the perfect time to slip away.
The red Volettete Shadowstreak she had picked out earlier was still parked in its original spot, waiting quietly for her.
Then, W suddenly spoke again.
“Pei Ran, something is following you.”
That sentence sent a chill down her spine.
Pei Ran whipped around—
Behind her, everything was silent—no one was there. She saw nothing.
“What’s following me?”
Pei Ran asked as she turned her head in another direction.
This time, she moved even faster than before. She didn’t need to ask again—she had already seen it.
A floating green light.
A bright, luminous speck, like a drop of water suspended in the air, subtly rippling with every shift in its movement. It looked incredibly familiar—undoubtedly the same green light that had belonged to Shige Ye.
It was hovering sneakily behind her head, trying to stay hidden. But when she turned too quickly, it failed to keep up—getting caught in the act, face-to-face with her.