The night-running slime was closing in. If she ran now, it would notice her immediately. Running was its specialty, and its movement speed wasn’t slow—she might not be able to outrun it.
Green Light No. 1 should be usable, but it was asleep more often than awake. Pei Ran didn’t want to waste it on this crazed fusion form.
She looked up at the tall wall of the nearby manor.
W warned: “Pei Ran, don’t…”
Don’t walk forward along the path of the prophecy.
“I know,” Pei Ran replied.
On the map drawn by Abu, it was clearly shown—she was climbing the wall with the help of a mechanical arm.
But what if she didn’t climb the wall?
Pei Ran leapt upward, grabbed the trunk of a roadside tree, and in a few quick moves, scrambled up into the tree.
The night-running slime was incredibly fast, already crashing and thudding its way over.
This roadside tree had been here for years; it wasn’t short, but going higher up, the branches became much thinner, unable to support the weight of a person.
Pei Ran shifted herself onto a slightly thicker branch, pressing her body as close to the trunk as possible.
“Guji guji——”
“Kuang kuang kuang kuang——”
The night-running slime had arrived.
Pei Ran stood steadily on the branch, holding her breath, quietly looking down.
The “kuang kuang kuang” footsteps stopped right beneath the tree.
The night runners encased in the slime all raised their heads in unison. One pair of eyes after another stared fixedly through the semi-transparent black gelatin at Pei Ran perched on the branch.
You stare at me, I stare at you.
The scene was a little awkward.
Pei Ran: The tree is so high, the night so dark—do your eyes really have to be that good?
The night-running slime beneath the tree suddenly deformed.
The night runners remained standing in place, unmoving, but the gelatinous part suddenly seemed to come alive, extending an upward-reaching tendril.
The slime’s soft tentacle stretched and elongated, crawling up the rough tree trunk, slithering upward at a swift pace.
If touched by its bizarre tentacle—just thinking about it—there’s no way it would be anything good. Most likely, she’d be dragged into the slime and spend the rest of her life treating running as her only career.
Pei Ran turned her head again, scrutinizing the wall of the nearby manor.
She simply and carefully climbed a bit higher, standing on a swaying branch, peeking over the wall.
W helplessly called out in a low voice, “Pei Ran…”
Pei Ran leapt.
She didn’t cling to the top of the wall and flip over to the other side like in the picture Abu had drawn. She didn’t even touch the wall—she just whooshed straight over it from above.
W: “……”
Pei Ran launched herself from the branch, vaulted over the manor’s high wall, drew an arc through the air, and descended.
She had already picked her landing spot—a large patch of grass.
The height of this jump wasn’t low. Pei Ran didn’t brace to absorb the impact directly. Instead, she rolled a few times with the momentum before climbing to her feet.
The posture was correct, and the landing spot soft enough—not a scratch on her.
Outside the tall wall, the slime’s tentacle extended rapidly, already reaching the branch where Pei Ran had just stood. Unfortunately, no one was there anymore.
Pei Ran got up from the grass, slipped behind a tree, and pondered, “Say, me jumping over the wall like this—does that count as jumping from one branch of the World Tree’s possibilities to another branch of possibility?”
W paused for a moment. “You jumped so cleanly—it probably counts, right.”
Let’s take that as a compliment.
Pei Ran mused, “I wonder how fine the branches of this World Tree are. Just by changing the method of climbing the wall—can the future be changed? If that’s possible, then what if I stepped with my right foot first instead of the left when climbing—could that change the future?”
W said, “I think the most reliable way to change the future is to not climb the wall at all. At twenty-one minutes and forty seconds earlier, someone said: ‘I didn’t plan to go into the manor, just wanted to check the surroundings from the outside.’”
The “I didn’t plan to” part—he actually played it back in Pei Ran’s own voice.
What kind of bizarre feature was that? Pei Ran almost wanted to laugh.
He really recorded every single thing she said.
Pei Ran argued, “I had no choice. I was forced into it.”
“You are definitely capable of dealing with that slime,” W mercilessly exposed her. “Even if you wanted to save your ability, you could’ve just picked another spot and climbed back out immediately.”
Pei Ran didn’t say anything.
Tonight, there was no moon in the sky. The heavens were just as gloomy as during the day. This manor had no lighting either—everything was pitch black.
But Pei Ran was wearing night-vision goggles and could see everything clearly.
She pressed close to the wall, quietly making her way toward the main building—clearly with no intention of finding a place to climb back out.
A rare opportunity.
It seemed like the power was out in the manor. Even though she had climbed over the wall, there wasn’t the slightest movement or reaction—perhaps their security system wasn’t functioning either.
This time, Xing Wuxian hadn’t brought many people. Pei Ran had counted at the entrance to the Black Well—aside from that insurance salesman, there were only six bodyguards.
It had been silent for quite some time. Even if there had originally been people in the manor, not many of them were likely to have survived. Judging by the current lifeless atmosphere, it didn’t look like there were many people around at all.
With such a great opportunity, Pei Ran was reluctant to waste it.
In the prophetic image drawn by Abu, she was lying on the ground with her eyes closed—it didn’t necessarily mean she was really dead.
Trying to kill her wasn’t that easy.
Pei Ran had absolutely no intention of leaving. W seemed to sigh beside her ear.
Pei Ran said, “Can you not make your language setting so natural? Always sighing like that—it makes my ear itch.”
W was silent for a second, then suddenly blew a breath into her ear.
Pei Ran: “……”
Although it was just sound and no actual breath came through, her ear—and even half her cheek—still felt strange.
Pei Ran raised her hand to rub her ear.
Enough already.
She continued moving forward. W had completely given up.
Helplessly, he said, “Pei Ran, hold on, I’ll send you the structural layout of this manor.”
Her wristband vibrated. Pei Ran found a row of tree walls, crouched down beneath them, pulled her jacket over herself, opened the screen on her wristband, dimmed the brightness, and minimized the display as much as possible to take a look.
He had actually made her a 3D map of the manor.
The manor was large and structurally complex. A 3D map like this was much easier to understand than a flat one.
He was unbelievably useful.
“But Pei Ran,” W said, “this structural map is only a general model I created based on information gathered from various sources. Since the manor is several hundred years old and quite ancient, if there are any hidden mechanisms or secret passageways, they won’t show up on the map.”
Pei Ran understood. She rotated the map and studied it carefully for a while before finally turning off the screen.
Sticking close to the wall and continuing forward, she arrived at the right wing of the manor’s main building.
It was dark and quiet here.
On the ground beneath the right-side porch, there were several large patches of bloodstains. They had long since dried, leaving only deep-colored marks. The fragments of flesh had also shriveled and hardened, crusted onto the floor.
Someone had died here, many days ago.
Pei Ran searched again using Green Light No. 4 and could feel the marker was closer—just inside the building.
W suddenly said, “Pei Ran, I can vaguely hear faint sounds coming from inside the building.”
His mechanical spider had inherited the metal sphere’s excellent hearing—much sharper than a human’s ears.
“Roughly what direction?”
“The sound is too faint, I can’t tell the exact location. Maybe if you get a little closer.”
Pei Ran quietly approached the side wing of the building.
From this angle, she suddenly saw—in the backyard behind the manor’s wing—two aircraft were parked. They were the same two she had seen outside the western entrance of the Black Well.
Pei Ran asked, “Didn’t you say these were called Black Falcon something?”
“Black Falcon S801 hovering private aircraft. Easy to operate, very fast, excellent performance. A favorite among many wealthy Federation merchants. Even though the price is high, it’s hard to get one—you have to queue.”
Pei Ran felt a bit envious of Xing Wuxian.
He came and went from high altitudes, and his aircraft flew fast—straight from the Black Well to the offshore island, landing in his own backyard. As long as no fusion forms appeared inside the manor, it was basically safe.
W asked, “Want to steal it? You’d need a keycard to activate it.”
Not necessarily to steal.
This rescue team wasn’t very reliable to begin with. Stealing a royal family’s private aircraft in broad daylight was a bit too arrogant. Besides, Lu Ming might be able to fix the broken aircraft by tomorrow.
Pei Ran said, “Or just sabotage it a bit—if the aircraft can’t fly, Xing Wuxian would be stuck on the island for now.”
Just thinking about it made her feel pleased.
But now wasn’t the time to do that—she needed to sneak in and scout the situation first.
The bloodstained spot was by the right-wing door. Pei Ran didn’t go there; instead, she bent low and, under the cover of the tree wall, approached a floor-to-ceiling window.
It was a full-length old-style folding sliding window. The wooden frame was inlaid with glass. Looking out from inside, you could see the lawn—a beautiful view, no doubt.
Pei Ran pressed against the outer window, listening carefully.
W said, “No sound inside.”
Good.
Pei Ran asked, “Where’s the lock on this type of window?”
W: “This is a very old type of folding floor-to-ceiling window, probably over a hundred and fifty years old…”
Pei Ran: “Get to the point.”
W: “The lock is between the two center panels, near the bottom frame.”
Pei Ran identified the two center panels, crouched down, and used her mechanical hand to grip the edge of the wooden window panel.
She slowly applied pressure—silent and steady. The mechanical fingers gripped the wooden edge like pliers and forcibly tore off a strip.
In just a few moves, Pei Ran dug out the lock and directly dismantled it.
Inside was a thick curtain. She reached through the hole where the lock had been removed, parted the curtain slightly, and peeked inside.
It was dark inside. No one was there.
Pei Ran quietly pushed open a gap in the folding window, slipped in, then tiptoed to close the window again. She adjusted the curtain to cover the place where the lock had been removed.
This was a dining room, with a massive oval carved dining table in the center. It looked big enough to seat twenty people with room to spare. In the middle of the table sat a vase of flowers, but no one had tended to it—completely dried out. The white roses had shriveled like crumpled yellow paper.
A large oil painting hung on the wall—not one of Abu’s portraits, but a landscape of cliffs and sea.
Pei Ran tiptoed through the dining room, scanning her surroundings.
This centuries-old house was enormous, filled with all kinds of rooms and reception halls. Twisting and turning, it was like a maze.
W said, “The sound from earlier—it seems to have come from the second floor.”
Pei Ran entered the hallway, recalling the directions from the map, and asked W, “If I go straight ahead to the end here, there should be a spiral staircase on the left, right?”
W replied, “You remembered correctly.”
She hadn’t reached the staircase yet when a sudden flash of light broke through the darkness ahead.
Pei Ran swiftly retreated and slipped into a nearby door.
It was a study—empty. Pei Ran didn’t close the door all the way, leaving a small gap.
Clear footsteps approached.
“Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.”
The hallway lit up too, the light swaying erratically.
Someone was holding a flashlight or some kind of portable light, passing by the door of the room Pei Ran was in.
The people Xing Wuxian brought this time, aside from that weakling-looking insurance salesman who was always with him, were all tall and burly—six in total. They were likely all well-tRaind royal bodyguards.
As the light flashed past, Pei Ran clearly saw—the one passing by was indeed one of them. He had a bit of stubble and wore two simple metal hoop earrings on his left ear.
This man had also accompanied Xing Wuxian to the quarantine center—he was his personal bodyguard.
Pei Ran carefully and quietly opened the door a bit wider, poked her head out, and stared at Stubble Bro’s back, feeling a bit conflicted inside.
She said, “Originally, I just planned to come take a look at the situation, but somehow, by a twist of fate, I ended up inside.”
W responded in a calm tone, “Yes, a twist of fate had you climb over the wall, a twist of fate had you ask me where the floor-to-ceiling window lock was, and then, whoops, your hand slipped and accidentally broke the lock on the window. Then your foot slipped, and you just happened to slip inside. How could it be such a coincidence?”
Pei Ran: “Exactly. Good thing my hands and feet are so slippery, and I didn’t fall.”
W: “……”
W: “Right. Good thing.”
She had clearly already made up her mind to act.
Xing Wuxian had plotted against her twice already. Either she killed him, or he killed her—in any case, one of them had to die.
But once the decision to make a move was set, there could be no hesitation. Otherwise, she would only alert the enemy and waste everything she’d done so far.
W said, “You want to make a move? Let’s analyze the pros and cons—”
Before the words “analyze the pros and cons” had even finished, Pei Ran had already darted out.
Last time in the mine tunnel, she had fought Xing Wuxian’s men. That opponent had exceptional skills; in a head-on fight, she would definitely get dragged into a prolonged struggle—slowing her down, a huge disadvantage.
But this time was completely different.
Stubble Bro was walking in a completely relaxed manner. He clearly didn’t think there was any danger in this locked-up manor.
A lone, completely unguarded back—far too tempting. Such a good opportunity—who knew when the next one would come?
Pei Ran had a gun on her, but this building was too quiet. Even if it was silenced, the noise would still be too loud.
She had already made up her mind. Like a hunting leopard, she sprang from her hiding place—silent but fast.
Stubble Bro didn’t expect anyone behind him. Caught completely off guard, a mechanical hand clamped down on his head.
Pei Ran’s strike was steady and precise. She grabbed his head and gave a fierce twist.
“Crack—”
A crisp snap of the neck. Stubble Bro didn’t even make a sound before crumpling to the ground.
Pei Ran crouched, turned off the flashlight in his hand, then checked his breathing. Once she confirmed he was no longer alive, she dragged him into the nearby room.
In just a few seconds, she had taken one out.
These bodyguards followed Xing Wuxian every day—there was a good chance they’d killed people too. But when it came to the matter of killing, there was no way they had killed more than Pei Ran had in her lifetime.
W was silent for a while before finally saying, “I’m suddenly starting to feel that killing Xing Wuxian might not be as difficult as I originally thought.”