There was also a middle-aged man in the car. Team Leader Li and the others called him Uncle He. He wasn’t wearing combat gear and had shrunk into the back seat as soon as he got in, his eyes panicked, his hands and feet fidgeting, even his lips trembling.
Pei Ran thought he looked so nervous he might cry.
Pei Ran was puzzled and asked W, “Is this Uncle He also from FBSMD?”
He didn’t seem like it.
W replied, “He’s not. Uncle He used to be an assistant to Nan Yi, the rescue target, and is very familiar with his home on the island. You might need his help. Marshal Vina promised him that after this trip to the island, his entire family could enter Black Well unconditionally. That’s why he agreed to come.”
So that was it.
The black-haired girl they had met at the entrance of White Harbor Supermarket also got into the car and sat down beside Pei Ran, immediately extending her hand to her.
She was all smiles. “We meet again. Remember me?”
“Of course,” Pei Ran replied, shaking her hand.
When they had met, the Silence had just broken out. While others were scrambling for supplies, she had been thinking about how to help more people survive. It was memorable.
“My name is Abu Zhuoma—just call me Abu. I recognized you the moment I saw you on the big screen in Central Square.” She gestured with her hand. “They all say you used a mechanical arm to dig into the belly of the Tanggu Dam fusion. So impressive.”
Famous in Black Well for gutting things.
Pei Ran asked Abu, “When did you arrive in Black Well?”
“Just a few days ago,” Abu said. “I’m from the capital’s FBSMD. I happened to be on vacation in White Harbor when the Silence started.”
The Silence had only broken out a little over ten days ago, yet she had managed to cross territories overrun by frenzied fusions and arrive safely in Black Well. That was impressive too.
Pei Ran wondered what her ability was.
W whispered in her ear, “Abu Zhuoma, member of the capital’s FBSMD. Previously voluntarily registered her ability, reported as Order-type, with no details provided.”
Pei Ran asked Abu, “Is Team Leader Lu also from the capital’s FBSMD?”
“Yes, both Team Leader Lu and Team Leader Li are. We’ve worked together for years,” Abu said, glancing at Ueno Tōru in the passenger seat and lowering her voice. “Ueno Tōru isn’t, though. He used to be part of the southern dispatch team. But now that everyone’s gathered in Black Well and there aren’t many people here, we’ve all been grouped together.”
Abu’s gaze dropped, and Pei Ran followed it, seeing a single black, gleaming eye of the mechanical spider peeking out from her chest pocket.
Abu asked curiously, “Your mechanical pet? I’ve heard of people buying these little mechanical pets—mechanical spiders, mechanical beetles, stuff like that. Much easier to take care of than real pets, though I’ve never seen one before.” She asked, “What’s its name?”
Pei Ran pushed it back in. “Its name is Da…da.”
W: “…”
The car headed straight for Black Well’s western exit.
The western exit was relatively far from the refugee settlement, and it seemed all incoming and outgoing aircraft were now parked there.
They arrived quickly. The guard at the gate came over to scan everyone’s irises and removed the suppression bracelets from the FBSMD members.
Once finished, the soldier saluted crisply. “Wishing you success on your mission.”
Lu Ming gave him a nod of acknowledgment, while the two military personnel returned a salute.
Team Leader Li also turned around.
“Once we’re outside, we can’t talk anymore. Wishing you a smooth journey. If all goes well, we’ll reach the island in three hours.”
Pei Ran silently added in her mind: And if it doesn’t go well, we’ll never make it there at all.
Team Leader Li reached out and gave everyone a pat on the hand.
They all exchanged high-fives—Pei Ran included—and the atmosphere felt like they were heading into battle.
Each person took out tape from their backpacks and expertly sealed their mouths shut.
Black Well’s heavy isolation door slowly opened.
The vehicle drove out beyond the shielding layer and continued forward through the tunnel. Everyone’s expression was solemn.
As soon as the suppression bracelets were removed, Pei Ran immediately activated Tracking Green Light No. 4, scanning for the marker she had previously placed on Xing Wuxian.
The marker was still clearly present.
She could sense it was very far away, to the southeast—exactly the same direction as the island’s location on the map in the intel Lu Ming had sent her.
The Tracking Green Light No. 4 had been taken from one of Xing Wuxian’s subordinates, so Pei Ran had always been skeptical about the reliability of this marker.
But Xing Wuxian might really be heading to the island.
When she had encountered him at Black Well’s entrance yesterday, the shock on his face when he saw her hadn’t seemed faked. That meant even before realizing he hadn’t captured her, he had already been preparing to leave for the island.
She had no idea what he was risking his life to do, traveling all that way.
Outside Black Well, an aircraft was waiting.
Unlike the sleek military craft Pei Ran had piloted last time, this one looked larger and older—clearly just for transport.
The cabin seats were narrow, with only three rows in total. With people and bags packed inside, it was a bit cramped.
Pei Ran took a window seat and fastened her seatbelt.
Lu Ming took the pilot’s seat directly. After glancing back to confirm everyone was seated, he gave a departing gesture and waved to Team Leader Li below as a final farewell.
The aircraft lifted off steadily.
It flew much higher than Pei Ran’s last flight, quickly ascending into the hazy, smoke-filled sky, heading southeast toward the orange sun.
Pei Ran realized something: there were far fewer fused entities at high altitudes compared to the ground. Once Black Well repaired more aircraft, flying at this altitude would actually be relatively safe.
Except for one rule—no sound.
If even one person made noise, everyone on board would be doomed.
The cabin was deathly silent.
After days in Black Well with the ever-chatty Ren around, the sudden quiet felt almost unsettling.
She pressed a hand to her chest pocket.
Her finger was suddenly pinched through the fabric by two tiny metal claws.
W’s voice sounded in her ear: “What are you doing?”
The mechanical spider’s large eye peeked out from the pocket.
“Pei Ran, there are two bags under your seat. The green one is a parachute, the yellow one is a life vest. If anything goes wrong, you can use them. I’ll send you the instructions.”
He was, as always, relentlessly meticulous.
Pei Ran bent down and felt under the seat—sure enough, something was stashed there.
Abu, sitting beside her, noticed the movement and immediately mimed pulling something out from under her own seat, strapping it to her back, then pretending to jump forward in her seat.
Her imitation was surprisingly accurate.
Pei Ran nodded at her in acknowledgment.
The instructions from W arrived on her wristband. She skimmed through them quickly, then asked W mentally: “What’s the situation on the island? Are there many frenzied fused entities there?”
W replied, “No rescue missions have been sent there yet, so we don’t have specifics.”
Then he added abruptly, “Even if Xing Wuxian said he was going to the island, that doesn’t mean he’s actually there. You might not find him.”
He knew exactly what she was planning this time.
Pei Ran was genuinely curious: “You know I’m going after Xing Wuxian. As a federal security agent, doesn’t that strike you as a crime?”
W answered, “I’m very clear on this—you aren’t the one with criminal intent. You’re just protecting yourself. I’m an AI, not an idiot.”
W continued, “Pei Ran, even if you make it there, there might not be an opportunity. Don’t force it.”
Pei Ran gave a soft “Mm” in response. “I know.”
She was just going to try her luck—what if?
After all, the tracking marker was already on Xing Wuxian. From now on, wherever he went, she would follow.
She planned to adopt CT122’s relentless persistence, haunting him like a ghost until she found the right moment to strike.
Everyone in the cabin was taking the chance to rest. Pei Ran leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Inside her, the green lights had long since stirred to life. Without her direction, they automatically surged toward the remaining traces of frenzied green light and swiftly devoured them all.
At last, those hidden dangers within her were completely purged.
But even after their feast, the green lights still seemed unsatisfied, as if chanting: “Hungry! Still hungry!! Not enough!!”
Pei Ran: “…”
A slight movement at her chest—the mechanical spider quietly crawled out of her pocket.
She could feel it nimbly making its way down her arm before finally settling into her palm.
Her hand was resting sideways, and it curled its mechanical legs, tucking itself awkwardly into her grasp.
“It’s inconvenient to observe the surroundings from the pocket,” it explained.
Pei Ran kept her eyes closed and mentally acknowledged with an “Mm,” flipping her palm over to let it perch securely.
It suddenly occurred to her—back on the road to Black Well, when it had used the inspection robot’s metal claws to hold her hand for drawing, it had asked for permission first. Now? It just nestled right into her palm without hesitation.
It had fully embraced its role as a pet.
She loosely cupped it, her fingers brushing against its cool metal limbs.
Holding it, she actually dozed off. She wasn’t sure how long she slept before a violent jolt startled her awake.
The aircraft was shaking like a leaf, the entire frame trembling so violently her face quivered with it.
Pei Ran snapped her eyes open.
In the pilot’s seat, Lu Ming frantically pressed buttons and pulled at the control stick, struggling to stabilize the aircraft.
The mechanical spider was no longer in her palm—it had crawled to the window and was peering outside.
W’s voice came through: “The aircraft seems to be under attack.”
Could there be fused entities like the human-plane up here in the sky?
Outside the window, there seemed to be nothing. Pei Ran asked, “What’s attacking us?”
W replied, “I think I saw a series of things hitting us—like birds, not very large…”
Before he could finish, the aircraft suddenly jolted with a muffled “thud,” as if struck again. It pitched violently before plummeting downward at terrifying speed.
The mechanical spider clung to Pei Ran’s shoulder as her stomach lurched with the sudden weightlessness.
The aircraft was falling uncontrollably—not toward land, but toward an expanse of water.
For a moment, Pei Ran almost forgot they were crashing.
Outside the window, was this the legendary ocean?
She had never seen such a vast stretch of water in her life—endless, stretching to the distant horizon.
The sky was overcast, a dull gray, blending seamlessly with the blue-gray waves that churned violently in the wind. The water rushed up toward them like a monstrous maw.
Not far ahead, a small island came into view, dotted with buildings along its slopes.
The water was approaching fast. Forcing herself to focus, Pei Ran bent to grab the life vest under her seat—just as the aircraft stabilized at the last possible second, skimming over the waves before surging upward again.
It veered toward the island.
Now flying low enough to see the treetops, the aircraft shuddered as it barely cleared the foliage.
Though stabilized, it still trembled intermittently. Lu Ming wrestled with the controls, clearly searching for a place to make an emergency landing.
The descent continued until—BAM!—a violent impact sent sand flying, obscuring the view before raining back down. This time, they had truly stopped.
They were alive.
The aircraft had crash-landed on a wide, empty stretch of beach.
Pei Ran asked W, “Is this the island? Did we make it?”
The mechanical spider swiftly retreated into her chest pocket. “Yes. This is the island.”
Pei Ran checked the tracker.
The signal was stronger now—very close. Xing Wuxian really was here.
Lu Ming secured the aircraft and reached to open the hatch.
Just before he could, Abu, sitting beside him, suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab his arm.
But she was too late.
Lu Ming noticed her attempt to stop him in his periphery, but his reflexes were faster—his finger had already pressed the hatch release.
The moment the hatch opened, a strange object shot inside like a bullet, aiming straight for Lu Ming’s face.
Thanks to Abu’s warning, Lu Ming was already alert. He dodged to the side with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding it, and immediately reached for his gun.
The thing whizzed past his face and streaked toward the second row.
Sitting there was Captain Zachary, one of the two special forces soldiers. Unaware of the danger, he was bent over retrieving his backpack.
The object pierced straight through his head.
Pfft— A gunshot rang out.
The flying thing exploded midair, turning into a gory mess before splattering against the window beside Captain Zachary.
The shot came from Pei Ran.
Everyone instinctively turned to look—only to see her still holding her gun steady, immediately firing again toward the hatch.
This time, she took out a second creature just as it lunged inside, blasting it apart before it could attack anyone else.
The hatch remained open. Pei Ran kept her gun raised, watching intently. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be a third one.
Despite firing twice, the cabin remained unharmed. Even in that critical moment, she had remembered her recent firearms training—adjusting the energy output of her Night Shadow M3000 to a lower setting, ensuring only the attacking creatures were destroyed.
Now, everyone could finally see what had attacked them.
The creatures resembled white birds but with grotesque, bullet-like metal heads—as if a bird had fused unnaturally with some kind of mechanical device.
Frenzied fused entities.
This was the first time since the Silence began that Pei Ran had seen an animal fused with machinery.
W spoke up: “I replayed the footage from when they attacked. It looks like seagulls fused with the harpoon heads from automated whaling ships.”
The people in the front row quickly checked on Zachary.
The harpoon’s razor-sharp tip had gone clean through his skull, painting the seat with blood and brain matter. He was already motionless.
Pei Ran fell silent. The team had just lost a member the moment they landed. And it was Captain Zachary—the one who had promised to “fully cooperate” with her.
The other soldier in the duo, Captain Mia, paled.
Even as a trained soldier in these dire times, mentally prepared for sacrifice, death had come too fast—blink-and-you-miss-it fast. It was hard to accept.
Lu Ming looked at Abu. She seemed to sigh silently before shaking her head at him.
Both their expressions carried a trace of regret.
Pei Ran glanced at Abu. What was that about?
She seemed to have known the danger would happen before Lu Ming opened the hatch.
W also noted: “Her ability to anticipate danger suggests some kind of extraordinary perception—extreme sensitivity to sound, spatial awareness of approaching objects, or…”
Pei Ran mentally finished his thought: “…or precognition. The ability to foresee danger before it happens.”
She wasn’t sure which it was.
Lu Ming stepped out first, scanning the surroundings before signaling that it was safe for the others to disembark.
Captain Mia moved to retrieve her fallen comrade’s body, and the others helped.
Pei Ran shouldered her backpack and followed.
As she passed, Lu Ming suddenly reached down, picked up the mangled remains of the seagull fusion, and tossed it toward her.
Pei Ran reflexively caught it, baffled.
He threw her the second one as well, then gestured for her to open them before climbing out.
Pei Ran understood. She pried apart the fused belly of the seagull and machinery—and sure enough, inside was a faint glimmer of green light.
This meant Lu Ming knew the frenzied green light could be absorbed.
W observed dryly, “Seems they have an unspoken rule here: whoever kills the fusion gets its green light.”
Pei Ran absorbed both traces into Green Light No. 1 and asked W, “Did FBSMD always handle frenzied green light this way before?”
“No,” W replied. “Before the Silence, frenzied fusions were extremely rare. Captured specimens were sent straight to labs. Back then, FBSMD members’ abilities weren’t as potent either, and no one had observed fusions actively hunting each other for green light.”
Since the Silence began, everything had changed.
Green light had grown more volatile, devouring itself, while abilities rapidly evolved.
In this environment, fusions naturally turned predatory—hunting each other to steal power.
Lu Ming and his team, constantly on rescue missions outside Black Well, had likely already figured out that green light could be taken from others to enhance abilities.
Beyond Black Well, it was survival of the fittest. Even former allies now balanced on a razor’s edge—trust could snap at any moment.
W warned, “Pei Ran, be careful with this Lu Ming.”
Unlike with Yulianka, Pei Ran’s instincts hadn’t tingled yet. “You think he’s unreliable?”
W: “I don’t like him. He reminds me of those… characters in novels. Cold, barely speaks, tries too hard to be enigmatic.”
Pei Ran: “???”
Pei Ran: “It’s the Silence. Even if he wanted to talk, he couldn’t.”
Pei Ran: Not everyone can chatter in someone’s ear nonstop like you.