Pei Ran was suspended in midair, quietly waiting for Green Light No. 1 to recover.
She tried calling W again, but her ear remained silent. The mechanical spider also stayed motionless, curled up in her pocket.
The signal was still being blocked.
With nothing else to do, Pei Ran looked down and carefully observed Little Kai lying below.
The corrosive liquid had already taken over the entire corridor floor, flooding to a depth of about five or six centimeters. Its rising trend had slowed down.
The part of Little Kai that was pressed against the ground was soaked in the red liquid, and the rate of corrosion had gradually slowed. The parts exposed above the liquid’s surface began to remain relatively stable.
Green Light No. 1 showed no sign of movement—she could only wait.
Dangling like this for so long, the fingers on her left hand were starting to go numb. Pei Ran shifted more of her weight to the mechanical right hand.
She looked up at the hole in the ceiling where her fingers were hooked. An idea suddenly came to her. She let go with one hand, unfastened one side of her backpack’s shoulder strap, then switched hands and unfastened the other shoulder strap from her shoulder as well.
The military backpack had two straps that could be buckled at the waist to distribute weight, each with a long, narrow metal buckle.
Pei Ran hung with one hand and used the other to grab the buckle. Lifting it, she inserted it into the hole in the ceiling where the light fixture had been. She gave it a few tugs to flatten it.
The long end of the buckle and the attached backpack strap formed a T-shape, securely wedged into the hole, with the backpack hanging below.
Pei Ran released her fingers from the hole and carefully shifted her weight onto the backpack.
The military backpack was very sturdy—no problem at all.
But Pei Ran didn’t stop. She used the hanging backpack to lower herself, testing as she went, and lightly landed on Little Kai’s corpse.
He was like an island protruding from the surface of the water, not yet fully consumed by the corrosive liquid. When she stepped on him, the body only sank slightly before stabilizing again.
If the corpse continued collapsing due to corrosion, she could just grab the hanging backpack and climb back up.
The floor was covered with red corrosive liquid like lava, and Pei Ran stood on the only “island” in the middle of the lava.
Finally freeing up her hands, Pei Ran took out the pen and paper she carried from her pocket and activated Green Light No. 2.
Waiting for Green Light No. 1 to recover was too slow. Now that her hands were free, she planned to try drawing.
After its upgrade, Green Light No. 1 could unlock doors. Green Light No. 2 had also absorbed quite a few frenzied state green lights from light vortices—maybe it could do it too. It was worth trying.
This drawing wasn’t hard and didn’t require much detail—she just needed to draw a door in the corridor.
Pei Ran squatted down and placed the paper on her knee.
Green light flowed to the tip of the pen. Pei Ran used it to pull out a few radiating lines, sketching the corridor. At the end of the radial lines was an upright rectangle.
She finished outlining the shape of the door, then darkened the color of the floor, added a neat grid pattern and small lights to the ceiling, and tilted her head to examine the result.
If W were here, he would definitely notice that she had learned the “single-point perspective” technique he once talked about.
Next, she needed to draw the scene with the door opened.
This door hadn’t originally existed, so it must have been hidden within the nearby wall. When it opened, it likely retracted back into the wall.
In the next comic panel, Pei Ran drew the same scene again, only this time, at the end of the rectangular corridor, one could see part of the elevator doors outside and the withered potted green plant beside them.
Pei Ran did her best to recall the shape of the large drooping leaves of that green plant and sketched it out roughly.
Hopefully, it would work.
After finishing the drawing, she went over the areas she wasn’t satisfied with a few more times, then finally rotated the pen.
The green light at the tip of the pen drew out a bright circle of light.
Without a sound, the tightly shut door in front of her really moved.
It slowly slid to the side, retreating into the wall, revealing the elevator doors outside—and the withered broad-leaf potted plant beside them.
This was the first time since learning to draw that Pei Ran had created a complete comic panel from scratch on the spot in an emergency, and it had worked.
She felt a little choked up—those late nights of practice hadn’t been in vain.
But there was no time to think about that.
As soon as the door opened, Pei Ran grabbed the backpack hanging above her and yanked hard.
The buckle strap snapped, and the backpack dropped. Pei Ran flung it onto her back, stepped forward off Little Kai’s corpse, and leapt.
She jumped out through the door, landing right in front of the advancing corrosive liquid.
Sure enough, someone was outside, approaching from the emergency passageway—it was the young soldier who had walked ahead earlier and guided Captain Yu Zhao and the others here.
The surveillance inside the vault had gone out, and with Pei Ran mysteriously opening two doors, they couldn’t figure out what was going on and had come to investigate.
The soldier was gripping his gun. As soon as he saw Pei Ran dart out, he raised his weapon.
But Pei Ran was much faster—she rolled on the spot and shot him down with a single shot.
The bullet struck his forehead; his eyes were still wide open. Pei Ran went over to confirm he was dead, didn’t linger, and immediately took the emergency passage upstairs.
Captain Yu Zhao and the others had entered this building too—there was a chance they were also in on it.
Pei Ran, carrying the gun, went up one level and arrived at the first basement floor. At a glance, she saw two people lying in the corridor.
Two corpses were lying in a pool of blood—Captain Yu Zhao and that chemical expert, Johnson—both shot in the back.
So they really weren’t in on it together.
They must have also been tricked by that soldier under the pretense of supervising the filling process. Walking in front, they were used as pawns to lure her in. As soon as they entered the building, they were taken directly to this floor and shot in the back.
The people who orchestrated this were ruthless, killing without hesitation.
Right beside the two corpses was the building’s surveillance room. The door was wide open, and no one was inside.
The original monitoring screens had already burned out in silence. They had hastily rigged a new screen with temporary wiring, but because all the surveillance cameras had been shot out by her, nothing showed on the screen.
Pei Ran searched the area again but didn’t find anyone else, so she went up through the emergency passage.
She didn’t look for anyone anymore and left the building on her own, slipping directly into the shadows of the adjacent building.
On the streets of Zalan, it was pitch black everywhere. Only the direction of the station still had some lights.
The current situation was unclear.
Little Kai was Colonel Kurma’s orderly. Colonel Kurma was the person in charge of the Zalan assembly point. The ones behind this setup were not ordinary people—they had considerable influence.
Pei Ran called out silently in her heart: “W?”
There was still no sound in her ear.
That was strange. Even after leaving the vault and exiting the building, was the signal still being blocked?
Pei Ran walked a bit farther and took the mechanical spider out of her pocket.
Still no signal. The spider remained motionless in her palm.
Pei Ran flipped it over—still no response. Its legs curled inward, as if it were dead.
If Colonel Kurma was unreliable, she couldn’t go back to the station now. But the city of Zalan was over six hundred kilometers from Black Well—was she supposed to figure out how to return there on her own?
“Krrrkk—”
Suddenly, a sound came through her ear—not W’s voice, but faint static noise.
It was like a bad signal or a malfunction in the transmitting equipment. The noise lasted several seconds, and finally, a voice began to come through.
It was W’s voice—very quiet, much quieter than usual.
“…Pei Ran… this is a scheduled transmission… codeword: twelve-petal snowflake… the field under moonlight… Black Well evolution…”
“…Don’t doubt it, it’s me…”
“…My long-distance signal transmitter malfunctioned, I can’t communicate with you in real time… Something happened in Black Well, it’s bad… Leave Zalan immediately, stay away from everyone, don’t trust anyone—someone may mean you harm…”
“…Also, don’t go back to Black Well…”
“…I repeat, do not go back to Black Well…”
“…Go somewhere else, anywhere you want… The Wolin Pharmaceutical Factory is in Hefu City to the southwest, there should still be your medicine in the factory’s warehouse… With your abilities, you’ll be able to get it… Just don’t return to Black Well again…”
“W?” Pei Ran immediately responded.
But this wasn’t a real-time conversation—there was no reply.
The static lasted for a few more seconds before disappearing. Silence returned to her ears.
Pei Ran’s heart pounded wildly.
Someone had lured her into Zalan’s trap, and at the same time, all of W’s signals had been completely cut off—only this scheduled message remained.
Something major must have happened in Black Well. W’s firm insistence that she not return meant his situation was likely very bad.
Pei Ran forced herself to stay calm.
He had predicted it well—there really were people in Zalan out to harm her. And he kept warning her: something had happened in Black Well; don’t go back to Black Well.
Of course she would go back to Black Well.
W seemed to be in real need of help.
Ren and Xingkong, the two little robots, were still in the dormitory in Black Well. Ai Xia and Technician Jiang’s situation was also unknown. If someone was targeting her and W, she just hoped those around them wouldn’t get dragged in.
There were too many ties in Black Well—how could she not go back and just walk away on her own?
She had always been a lone wolf, able to leave at any time, just like W said—she could go wherever she wanted. But at some point, in this strange world, she had unexpectedly developed so many attachments she couldn’t let go of.
Some of those attachments were people, but surprisingly, many were artificial intelligences.
Those blue-glowing beings wrapped in silver metal shells—once her enemies.
W had said his long-range transmission was down. Then what about short-range?
What if she got close enough?
Pei Ran thought for a few seconds, then put the mechanical spider back in her pocket and slipped into the shadows of a nearby alley.
The darkness concealed her movements. Pei Ran moved silently in the direction of the Zalan station.
It was already close to midnight. Over at the construction site near the station, lights were still on. Heavy machinery roared—they were working overtime through the night.
The area around the station was piled with construction materials used for reinforcing protective walls. Pei Ran climbed up the stack, lay prone in the shadows, and quietly observed the scene.
People were moving in and out of the white command tent. Not far from it sat Colonel Kurma’s aircraft.
Flying Yehai No. 7 back would be too slow—stealing the aircraft would be much more ideal.
Unfortunately, from this distance, the cockpit indicator lights weren’t on—it wasn’t in standby mode.
One of the tent curtains was rolled up. Through it, she could see the tent brightly lit and filled with people. Pei Ran watched for a while. Colonel Kurma didn’t seem to be inside—it was unclear where he’d gone. But in a fleeting glimpse, she did catch sight of the young soldier who had piloted the aircraft earlier.
Pei Ran patiently lay there waiting.
After nearly an hour, she finally saw that the soldier came out of the tent.
Pei Ran immediately summoned Green Light No. 6. This was a green light she had collected from Yu He. As long as her eyes didn’t leave the target, she could control the other person’s actions like a puppet on strings.
But it seemed she wouldn’t need it.
The soldier was walking briskly toward the other side of the station, where a row of temporary integrated portable toilets had been set up.
It was a perfect opportunity.
Pei Ran crept down quietly, circling around piles of construction materials, stealthily following him like a leopard lying in ambush, hidden by the shadows.
The soldier finally arrived at one of the portable toilets.
Completely off guard, he absentmindedly pulled open the door. Just as he stepped in—before he could even enter—he was shoved forward forcefully from behind. A hard blow struck the back of his head, and everything went black.
Pei Ran laid him face down on the toilet lid and quickly searched him. As expected, she found a small card in his pocket that looked a lot like the Black Falcon’s key card. It even had a keychain bearing the Federal Army’s winged eagle insignia.
With the item in hand, Pei Ran cracked the door open slightly and peeked outside.
Still no one nearby. She slipped out in a flash.
Twisting and turning her way to the vicinity of the tent, she stuck close to the tent wall, crouched in the shadows, and quickly made her way to the aircraft.
As soon as the key card got close to the hatch, the door immediately sprang open.
Pei Ran ducked into the cockpit.
The controls of this aircraft were a little different from the Black Falcon’s—in fact, they more closely resembled the military aircraft she had piloted under Captain Xiao Hai. The same screens, buttons, and control sticks—just arranged slightly differently.
This time, without W’s guidance, she had to rely entirely on herself.
Pei Ran used the key card to activate the control panel, then, relying on memory, pressed each of the various colored buttons one by one.
The aircraft’s hover system came online, emitting a soft humming sound.
It successfully lifted off the ground and floated in place. Pei Ran pushed the control stick, and the aircraft immediately rose into the air.
The people in the tent heard the noise—someone came out—but Pei Ran had already slammed the throttle forward.
No matter how noisy the Zalan station was behind her, she flew the aircraft straight into the night sky toward the west.
The screen displayed a compass and a terrain map, but there was an even simpler way to return to Black Well without getting lost—just follow the path of Yehai No. 7.
Pei Ran kept the aircraft flying at a moderate low altitude, racing forward at full speed along the ground track laid by Yehai No. 7.
The dark Xipu Plains were deep in shadow, so silent it was as if no life existed at all. The aircraft, like a black bat with outstretched wings—but far faster than any bat—shot forward like a bullet.
She had barely left Zalan when W’s voice came through her ear again.
“…Pei Ran… this is a scheduled transmission… codeword: twelve-petal snowflake… the field under moonlight… Black Well evolution…”
He repeated the message again—it was exactly the same as before.
Afraid she wouldn’t receive it, he had set it to transmit at intervals, automatically sending the message out every so often.
Pei Ran grew more anxious. The aircraft was flying at high speed—this stretch of road would take the antique train Yehai No. 7 five hours to cross, but she reached the distant silhouette of Yercha on the horizon in less than one hour.
She carefully circled around the outskirts of Yercha and did not continue forward.
Something had happened in Black Well. Piloting an aircraft straight back like this—charging in recklessly—wasn’t safe.
But in the direction of Black Well, everything was still shrouded in darkness, completely silent.
Pei Ran wasn’t met with any attack. She circled in the air near Yercha, and silently called out in her heart:
“W, can you hear me now?”
“W?”
She was already close to the Black Well perimeter—maybe the signal range now counted as “short distance.”
Suddenly, a faint rustling noise came through her ear.
Then W’s voice arrived:
“…Pei Ran?”
“Why did you come back??”
She was close enough—sure enough, they could now talk in real time.