CT106 stopped spinning and attempted to fly again.
Pei Ran seized the opportunity, her mechanical fingers abruptly stabbing into its “heavenly Ling Gai” (top of the head, a term often used in martial arts or folklore to describe a vital point).
Its shell was metallic, more fragile than Pei Ran had imagined. Using her inserted fingers, she hooked it up, holding it like a bowling ball.
CT106’s spherical body was divided into upper and lower parts, like split northern and southern hemispheres. The northern hemisphere had eyes and shooting ports, capable of 360-degree omnidirectional rotating attacks. However, this part was now firmly fixed by the mechanical hand and could no longer rotate.
Having its head grabbed, it was utterly enraged.
Gunfire erupted, flames flashed. It fired wildly, heedless of consequences.
Unfortunately, without the ability to rotate, its attack angles were insufficient to hit Pei Ran behind it. The wall of the adjacent building bore the brunt, powder flying as a row of holes was blasted into it.
Pei Ran looked down at it, calculating in her heart: In such chaotic times, having only one mechanical hand as a weapon was clearly not enough. The built-in gun in this little sphere was quite enticing in terms of lethality.
Tempting.
Back in the bunker, Pei Ran had once traded for a set of launching components on the black market and modified them into a gun herself. That gun didn’t look very appealing, with its stock even made of twisted scrap wire, but its functionality was quite good.
If she could open up CT106 and extract its launching components, she might be able to make a gun.
Pei Ran held the sphere and casually closed the lid of a large trash bin, pressing it against the bin and tearing at the metal shell of the sphere.
The iron sheet peeled open, revealing the complex structure inside.
Near the red dot of the sphere should be the launching components. When Pei Ran had stabbed it earlier, she had deliberately avoided this area. The launching components were intact and looked easy to remove—just tear the metal skin a bit more, pull out the cables, and they could be taken out.
Looking further down, Pei Ran was startled.
Inside the sphere, blue light flickered.
This familiar blue light was something Pei Ran had seen countless times before.
The brains—core processors—of the enemies in the bunker world also glowed with this blue light. If one was lucky enough to catch one, pierce its shell, and smash its processor with a hammer, it could be sent to the heavens.
This world and the bunker world had many differences, but some things were quite similar. Perhaps it was the parallel world mentioned in novels.
At this moment, the CT106, which had been brutally disemboweled, suddenly moved.
“Click—”
A soft sound.
Its “southern hemisphere,” the lower part, actually concealed two long metal arms.
The metal arms were hidden within the sphere, almost blending seamlessly with it, completely unnoticeable. Now, however, they quickly sprang out, using their mechanical claws at the ends to clamp onto Pei Ran’s left and right wrists.
Regaining its freedom, it floated back into the air, and the first thing it did was rotate the upper part of its sphere 180 degrees.
The red dot of its aim was precisely aligned with Pei Ran’s forehead.
In that instant, every hair on Pei Ran’s body stood on end, and only one thought crossed her mind: This is what you get for being greedy and trying to steal its gun. Now you’re done for.
Over the years, she had encountered countless perilous situations, and her body moved faster than her mind.
With a flip of her mechanical hand, Pei Ran grabbed CT106’s metal folding arm and yanked it with all her strength.
CT106, floating in the air, couldn’t withstand such force and tilted to one side.
At the same time, it fired. A flash of light streaked past, and the shot went wide, blasting into the wall behind Pei Ran.
CT106 immediately adjusted its direction in mid-air, preparing for a second attack, but it was already too late.
Its metal shell was still peeled open, its internal structure exposed. Pei Ran’s mechanical hand, ignoring the restraint of its folding arm, reached forward and accurately grasped the area where the blue light flickered, squeezing hard.
The blue light went out.
The once-ferocious little sphere fell silent.
It was dead.
Pei Ran, holding CT106, let out a sigh of relief.
At that critical moment of life and death, the mysterious green light hadn’t appeared. She still didn’t know what conditions were needed to trigger the green light.
She immediately placed the sphere back on the trash bin, intending to continue tearing its metal shell.
By now, it was dusk, and the narrow alley, shaded by tall buildings, was dimly lit. This moment seemed to stretch infinitely, as if time had paused, frozen in this gloomy, silent winter day.
In her mind, a familiar green light flashed.
This time, there was no winding light snake. Instead, a single word in the Manya language appeared almost instantaneously.
[Tear.]
What followed was like a dream—everything happened simultaneously.
Pei Ran watched as the CT106 before her was grabbed by two invisible hands, one on each side, and violently ripped apart.
The metal shell was as fragile as paper, riiiip, torn into two halves. The internal components were also split in two, clattering as they fell to the ground, scattering everywhere.
But there were other tearing sounds too.
Real paper—the sound of countless cardboard boxes being ripped apart.
The cardboard boxes piled up in the alley were all mercilessly torn in half by some mysterious, unknown force. Even the large trash bins weren’t spared—their massive metal bodies were forcibly split open, each one cleaved in two, gaping wide.
The forklift, parked a bit farther away, didn’t escape unscathed either. Though it wasn’t as badly damaged as the trash bins, the steel frame used for lifting goods at the front was cracked open.
In an instant, everything in the narrow alley—except for the walls on either side—had been torn apart, leaving a scene of utter chaos.
Pei Ran stood silently in place.
After a long while, she instinctively looked down at herself—
Thankfully, she was still in one piece.
Alright. When she needed the green light, it didn’t show up. When she didn’t need it, it suddenly appeared out of nowhere, tearing everything to shreds. She couldn’t tell if it was trying to help or just causing trouble.
The word “tear” had been the thought in her mind just moments ago.
Pei Ran focused her mind again, but there was no response. The green light probably felt it had done a great deed, finished its job, and gone back to sleep.
It had made a brief appearance and caused a huge mess.
Pei Ran bent down to pick up the remnants of the patrol sphere that had rolled to her feet. Now, the launching components were completely destroyed, shattered beyond recognition. She wasn’t sure if they could even be repaired.
Suddenly, something appeared at the entrance of the alley.
Pei Ran: You’ve got to be kidding me…
Two more spheres had arrived.
These intelligent patrol robots were annoyingly numerous, never-ending.
The newcomers were CT121 and CT122. As soon as they spotted Pei Ran and the remains of their fellow sphere in her hand, they immediately flew toward her.
They had probably classified her as an L16-level extreme threat again.
Pei Ran rolled to the ground, taking cover behind a trash bin.
This situation was even more troublesome than before. There were two robots now, and they knew exactly where she was.
Just as Pei Ran was racking her brain, a bright beam of light flashed through the dark alley, accurately hitting one of the patrol robots’ large eyes.
With a bang, CT121 exploded.
This sudden burst of firepower, coming from who-knows-where, was far more intense than that of the patrol robots.
CT122, however, wasn’t stupid. Seeing the situation turn bad, it turned around and fled, whoosh, disappearing out of the alley in an instant.
Pei Ran turned her head in confusion and saw, lying on the ground near a pile of cardboard boxes in the distance, the silver metal sphere painted with “DOD.”
It was the Federal Defense Security Agent.
This sphere was elusive, and she had no idea when it had arrived.
It had also been affected by the mysterious “tearing” force from earlier. The entire metal shell of the sphere was split open.
Perhaps because it was slightly farther away, it hadn’t been completely split in half like its counterparts from the Public Security Bureau, but it wasn’t much better off. Wires were exposed, sparking, and it couldn’t move, let alone fly.
This thing had suddenly opened fire and blown up its own kind.
She didn’t know why it had bothered to intervene.
Maybe it had witnessed the entire incident and knew she was innocent.
Pei Ran recalled that cold male voice:
“I can assure you, every law-abiding citizen is absolutely safe.”
What a joke.
Right now, law-abiding citizens across the city were being blown to pieces.
Pei Ran didn’t care what these artificial intelligence machine brains were thinking. She stared at the metal sphere, walked over, grabbed its rotatable upper half, and picked it up to examine it.
The launching components of its brain-dead counterparts from the Public Security Bureau were broken, but the ones on this sphere were intact and still functional.
Most importantly, its firepower seemed far superior to those patrol robots.
It was like an unexpected gift from heaven—someone had delivered themselves right to her doorstep.
The sphere’s internal structure was fully exposed. Pei Ran could see that it also had a pair of metal folding arms, but after being torn apart, the wires had disconnected from the main body, rendering them useless. There didn’t seem to be any other attack mechanisms.
Pei Ran unwrapped the scarf from her neck and bundled the sphere up in it.
This place was too dangerous to stay any longer.
Holding the sphere wrapped in the scarf, Pei Ran used her mechanical hand to secure its “head” and quickly made her way through the alley.
It was almost dark, and everything was shrouded in a gray haze. Pei Ran walked two blocks before finding a secluded corner between two buildings. She took the metal sphere out of the scarf.
Inside the sphere, faint blue lights flickered weakly, like the shallow breaths of a dying person.
Just like the enemies from the bunker world before their deaths.
Those artificial intelligences had swept across the surface world, driving humans underground, forcing them to live like rats in the dark.
Pei Ran suppressed the strong urge to crush that flickering blue light.
Exchange was a fundamental principle in the bunker world. Since it had helped her deal with one of the patrol robots, she would spare its life—for now.
Pei Ran crouched down, pressed it against the ground, and with a forceful tug, tore the split metal shell open wider. She began to strip out its launching components.
In the dim corner, there was only the faint sound of Pei Ran disconnecting the wires.
“Pei… Ran?”
A man’s voice, calm and detached, enunciating each word clearly, devoid of emotion.
Right next to Pei Ran’s left ear.