Pei Ran asked, “File No. 10? What is it?”
Surprisingly, W actually knew. “It’s a legend.”
W said, “You know, the political party of CEO Basserway is called the Federal Heritage Party. Rumor has it that a hacker breached the accounts of the Heritage Party’s top brass and stole a file containing evidence of collusion between the Heritage Party, the royal family, and other federal conglomerates—including corruption, bribery, and insider dealings. If made public, it would deal a massive blow to the Heritage Party.”
So it was Basserway and his associates’ dirty secret.
“However, it’s just a legend,” W said. “After all, no one has ever seen the real File No. 10. Many people are searching for it.”
No wonder Xing Wuxian flew all the way to the offshore island and resorted to torture—he was after this very thing.
Basserway and his faction were currently locked in a power struggle with Marshal Vina at Black Well. If Black Well truly pursued a democratic election path in the future, this file would be enough to bury the Heritage Party in a pit they’d never climb out of.
Pei Ran asked, “Then who is Kuchi?”
W replied, “Kuchi is an online ID—the first person to expose the existence of File No. 10. The profile picture was a tattooed, burly man.”
“I’ve actually been following the File No. 10 case too,” W said. “I once tracked Kuchi’s online traces in detail and dug up this person’s real identity. Let me show you a photo.”
Pei Ran’s wristband vibrated as a photo came through.
Pei Ran was stunned.
The person named Kuchi turned out to be a very young woman.
In the photo, she had her long hair tied back and was wearing a shirt—just an ordinary office worker’s appearance.
“She’s a hacker,” W said. “She uncovered File No. 10. Unfortunately, she’s been missing ever since. I thought she was dead, but apparently not.”
W added, “Everyone who enters Black Well is recorded, and I can check. I’m absolutely certain she never made it to Black Well.”
Pei Ran pondered, “So this Kuchi is either still on the way, already dead along the way, or hiding in the refugee settlement at the mining zone.”
W said, “There’s no surveillance in the mining zone’s settlement—just one camera at the entrance, which I monitor constantly. If a sensitive figure like Kuchi entered, I’d notice immediately.”
Pei Ran: “She’s on the run. Could she be in disguise?”
With everyone searching for her, she probably wouldn’t show her real face.
W: “Very likely. I’ll review the surveillance footage from these past few days again.”
The matter of File No. 10 could be set aside for now. The immediate priority was figuring out how to leave this place.
Staying here was just asking for trouble—they had to get out fast.
The problem was, Pei Ran still couldn’t stand up.
She said, “W, pass me that piece of paper and the pen on the ground.”
The mechanical spider immediately crawled over, gripping the pen with the tip of its leg and delivering it to Pei Ran’s hand. Then it dragged over the paper with the drawing of Xing Wuxian on fire as well.
Pei Ran activated Green Light No. 2 and channeled it into the pen tip.
She wanted to draw a comic of herself returning to normal and standing up.
Back when she was locked in a life-or-death struggle with Shige Ye, she had once used Green Light No. 2 to restore her entire body to normal—so Green Light No. 2 should have that capability.
But her drawing skills still weren’t great.
The portrait of Xing Wuxian had been the result of repeatedly practicing while referencing a photo. Now, attempting to draw herself from imagination, Pei Ran wasn’t very confident.
She flipped the paper over to the blank side, placed it on the floor, and bent down to focus on her drawing.
After watching for a while, W suddenly said, “Pei Ran, I just received a report. The pill you gave me has finished testing.”
Pei Ran’s heart skipped a beat. “What were the results?”
W said, “The intact pill’s surface was indeed coated with a special substance—an experimental-stage inhibitor that suppresses the activity of the green light within a fused entity. However, it’s harmful to the human body.”
So the box of medicine really had been tampered with.
Back then, when Dr. Valia prescribed the medication, the person who delivered it was an unfamiliar staff member who had acted flustered. Pei Ran had felt something was off at the time.
Xing Wuxian, knowing she had green light inside her, had been scheming against her all along. It wasn’t surprising that he’d casually slipped her poison.
But Pei Ran was concerned about something else.
She asked, “What about the other small fragment?”
After asking, she held her breath, waiting for W’s answer.
“The other fragment was also carefully tested. There’s no issue with it.”
Pei Ran paused for a second before pressing, “No issue means—”
“It’s pure JTN34,” W replied. “Completely unaltered.”
Pei Ran took a quiet, deep breath, her heart swelling with joy.
She had successfully used Green Light No. 1 to create a small piece of JTN34.
Unadulterated, standard, flawless JTN34.
Medicine obtained from others might require favors, exchanges of value, and could even be tampered with. But what she made herself—absolutely reliable, without a doubt.
As long as she continued upgrading Green Light No. 1, she would eventually be able to produce a complete pill.
W drew a conclusion: “So they tampered with some of your pills, mixing real ones with fakes.”
Pei Ran gave a quiet “Mm.” “Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t going to take them anyway.”
W said, “I estimate that if Black Well continues to exist smoothly, within two years, we should be able to establish production lines for certain medications. Hopefully, JTN34 will be among them.”
He added, “Or perhaps we can approach the problem from another angle. Song Wan’s family owns a company that researches and produces various bio-limb replacements—their technology is among the best in the Federation. They’re also studying neural integration, led by an AI that was recently transported to Black Well. It’s currently undergoing repairs due to damage sustained during transit. I’ll try to contact it and see if it can find a way to replace your mechanical prosthesis.”
So he had been looking for solutions for her all along.
Pei Ran said, “Thank you.”
W paused for a second. “You don’t need to be so polite with me.”
Just as they were speaking, a noise came from outside the window.
Faint but familiar—the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of something heavy hitting the ground, accompanied by a soft squelch-squelch.
The night-running slime.
Pei Ran and W fell silent at the same time.
W said, “I’ll check.”
The mechanical spider climbed off her and scurried to the window, slipping behind the floor-length curtains.
“That slime fusion has entered the manor grounds,” he reported. “Judging by its path, it climbed the same tree you used earlier and scaled the wall.”
The night-running slime had witnessed Pei Ran’s wall-climbing technique and, after much effort, had finally succeeded in replicating it.
Now, a massive, gelatinous blob was making its way across the estate’s courtyard.
The spider returned, visibly concerned. It climbed onto her shoulder and peered at her drawing. “Take your time. No rush.”
Pei Ran nodded, then checked the green light inside her—only to realize that Green Light No. 1 seemed to have “woken up.”
She immediately summoned it into her mental field of vision.
It had never been keen on working, so for it to appear this frequently in such a short time was unprecedented.
Probably the result of all those frenzied light fragments it had absorbed recently—an upgrade.
Pei Ran tried using Green Light No. 1 to write:
[The body has completely returned to normal.]
She drew the period, but nothing happened. The glowing words remained in her mind, refusing to fade. It seemed Green Light No. 1 still lacked the capability to achieve something like this.
Pei Ran felt a pang of disappointment.
She thought more carefully. Since Green Light No. 1 responded better to text, maybe the phrasing was too vague. What did “completely returned to normal” even mean? How “normal” did her body need to be for it to count as fully normal? A broad statement like this might be beyond its current ability.
Pei Ran erased the line and rewrote it—this time with precise, unambiguous instructions:
[The effects of the inhaled anesthetic have dissipated.]
She drew the period.
The moment the stroke was completed, the words vanished. Instantly, her entire body felt different, as if she’d been injected with an antidote. Sensation flooded back into her limbs, obedient and sharp.
Pei Ran pushed off the ground and stood up in one fluid motion, her arms and legs moving freely. It was like being reborn.
Green Light No. 1 had actually done it. Beyond its violent tearing/exploding functions and its ability to generate pills, it had unlocked a new capability.
The mechanical spider, caught off guard, hooked a claw into her collar and swung briefly before scrambling to stabilize itself.
W, though confused, sounded pleased. “You’re back to normal?”
“Yeah.”
Pei Ran walked over to Xing Wuxian’s charred, crumpled form on the floor.
He was burned pitch-black, his features unrecognizable.
She raised her foot and kicked his head—just as he’d done to her earlier with the tip of his shoe.
Blackened carbon crumbled away. Without skin or muscle to support it, the cervical bone gave a brittle crack, and the entire head snapped off at the neck, rolling away with a hollow clatter.
Brothers reunited at last—how heartwarming. A family reunion in the eighteenth layer of hell.
Pei Ran crouched to gather the paper, pen, and other items, stuffing them into her pockets before strapping the night-vision goggles back on. “Let’s go.”
She slipped out the door quietly.
The hallway was silent, not a soul in sight.
W said, “No idea where that guy went.”
He meant the escaped insurance salesman—the sole living witness who’d seen her kill Xing Wuxian.
But the manor was too vast, riddled with dangerous traps and hidden passages. The insurance salesman clearly knew the place well, and Pei Ran had no intention of recklessly hunting him down.
She retraced her steps, returning to the manor’s side wing, descending to the first floor, and arriving back at the shattered French window she’d forced open earlier.
Pei Ran lifted the curtain slightly and peered outside.
Through the glass, she could see the night-running slime—a massive, translucent black blob undulating softly across the lawn.
It seemed to have finally discovered this unexplored territory and was now joyfully patrolling its newfound domain in looping circuits. The joggers trapped inside its gelatinous body moved in eerie synchronization, their expressions blank.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Pei Ran eased the French window open just a crack, then crouched behind the heavy curtains, tracking the slime’s movements.
Once it reaches the far side of the yard, I’ll make a break for the wall and climb out.
Its traversal would buy her enough time to escape.
As she waited, Pei Ran checked the green light inside her—only to find it motionless again.
She immediately understood why: The insurance salesman was nearby.
He hadn’t turned off the inhibitor’s suppression function. It was practically a homing beacon.
Earlier, when he’d fled the room with the device, her green light had reactivated—proof the machine’s range was limited to a single room.
The dining area behind her was spacious, with bare tables and spindly-legged chairs offering no cover. If someone was hiding nearby, they had to be outside the window.
“W,” she said, “our runaway is close—within a room’s distance. Scout ahead.”
The mechanical spider, small and inconspicuous, was perfect for stealth.
“On it.”
The spider darted out through the cracked window and vanished.
Moments later, W reported back: “Found him. He’s hiding around the left corner of the wall.”
Outside the window, the insurance salesman was pressed against the building’s corner—likely also evading the slime.
Then W added, “Pei Ran, he’s holding something else besides the inhibitor. You’ll love this.”
Pei Ran’s pulse quickened. “A Black Falcon flight keycard?”
She guessed too quickly. W sounded almost exasperated. “Yes. A keycard.”
It was obvious why the insurance salesman hadn’t holed up inside the manor but had instead slunk over to the wing and into the yard—he was after the parked aircraft.
He was trying to flee.
Pei Ran checked the slime’s position one last time, then slipped out through the open French window.
She pressed against the wall, moving silently toward the left corner.
Suddenly, a head popped out from around the bend—the salesman, peering in her direction.
Their eyes locked.
“Aah—!!”
He shrieked like he’d seen a ghost, fumbling the inhibitor. It hit the ground with a clatter.
Pei Ran: “…”
With the suppressor active, noise wouldn’t trigger an explosion—but his scream was loud enough to stop the slime mid-circuit.
Every jogger inside the gelatinous mass halted in unison, their heads swiveling toward the sound.
Pei Ran lunged.
The salesman panicked, scrambling backward, but her target wasn’t him—it was the keycard still dangling from his finger.
She yanked it free.
The slime’s inhabitants stood frozen, their hollow gazes fixed on the fleeing man. Then, as one, the blob pivoted and charged.
THUD-THUD-THUD.
The salesman bolted.
He sprinted toward the rear landing pad, then—remembering the stolen keycard—wheeled around and veered for the manor’s front gate.
That split-second hesitation cost him.
The slime closed the gap.
Across the moonlit lawn of the royal estate, a surreal chase unfolded: a man running for his life, pursued by a quivering, gelatinous tsunami.
Meanwhile, Pei Ran scooped up the broken inhibitor.
It had landed on flagstone, its panel shattered, lights dead. Useless.
W suggested, “Let’s take it back and have Qiao Sai try to repair it.”
The inhibitor, about the size of an alarm clock, was just small enough to cram into the side pocket of her combat suit.
With the slime preoccupied chasing its new recruit, Pei Ran seized the moment to slip back to the base of the wall she’d scaled earlier.
Xing Wuxian’s aircraft sat parked in the rear courtyard, its keycard now nestled in her pocket—a ready escape route off the island.
But this was merely a backup plan.
She’d come here on a mission. Abu and the others were still at the villa. She had to regroup with the team.
A seasoned climber, Pei Ran scaled the wall effortlessly. W, perched on her shoulder, glanced backward.
On the lawn, the out-of-shape insurance salesman was no match for the slime’s relentless joggers. The distance between them vanished in seconds.
A translucent pseudopod lashed out, gluing itself to his back.
A tug. A yank. A retraction.
Flailing limbs vanished into the gelatinous mass as he was swallowed whole.
Green light pulsed through the slime’s core. Instantly, the salesman stilled.
His face went slack, his body aligning with the others in perfect formation.
Then—with a synchronized thud-thud-thud—the slime resumed its nightly marathon, its newest member now jogging blankly alongside the rest.
Pei Ran reached the top of the wall.
She paused, glancing back at the distant spectacle.
“He’s in?” She frowned. “He runs so slow. Can he even keep up?”
The spider craned forward. “Maybe the mutation enhances physical ability.”
Pei Ran sighed. “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, forcing him to match their pace would be brutal. Moral of the story: cardio matters.”
W: “Mm. Stay fit. Future insanity depends on it.”
The slime finally noticed Pei Ran perched on the wall and lurched toward her—
But she was already gone, vanishing into the night with a whoosh.
Mission accomplished. Xing Wuxian was dead. A weight lifted, Pei Ran strode through the darkened streets of the offshore island, lighter than air.
All she had to do was return to Nan Yi’s villa, scale the wall, retrace her steps, and slip back into her room unnoticed. The night’s events would remain a secret.
The white villa loomed ahead.
But even from a distance, chaotic noises pierced the quiet night—shouts, crashes, and an incessant buzzing like the electric saw from that deranged cleaner’s hands earlier.
Pei Ran’s stomach dropped.
We’re too late.