Twenty kilometers away.
Yercha City District.
Pei Ran followed the original route back and arrived at the entrance of the glass skybridge.
There were no more human-drones on the bridge. Once they realized they couldn’t break the door open, they stopped wasting time and returned to their positions to continue performing.
Pei Ran quietly unlocked the latch on the door and poked her head out to look around.
The human-drone swarm was busy forming the shape of a dolphin, leaping out of the water in a lively and cheerful manner.
Pei Ran seized the opportunity and darted out with a whoosh.
The disturbance immediately caught the attention of the human-drones. The dolphin’s tail stopped performing and swiftly turned around, rushing toward the skybridge.
Pei Ran didn’t rush to the opposite side but instead ran toward the scattered green lights dotted across the bridge.
Mosquito meat is still meat—better than nothing. She dashed and jumped all along the way, gathering as many of the reachable little green light dots as possible into her bag.
W, now with enough energy, silently rotated its gun barrel on its own, knocking down the human-drones that rushed over one after another.
Pei Ran focused entirely, quickly cleaned up the battlefield, and then dashed through the door on the opposite side of the skybridge.
The fine green light dots entered her body, moving around inside, bringing a particularly uncomfortable sensation. Pei Ran used her mind to gather them all together and fed them to Green Light No. 1.
Green Light No. 1, like a cat hearing the sound of a can being opened, had already woken up and came over, popping them one by one like eating sunflower seeds.
Pei Ran followed the same route back. Everything went smoothly—she jumped over the outer wall, crawled through the dog hole, and returned to the ground floor lobby of the Twin Towers where the others were.
The people blocking the door saw her return. Though they couldn’t speak, their facial expressions were identical—all filled with inquiry and hope.
Pei Ran gave everyone a thumbs-up. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Pei Ran directed everyone to move the reception desk that was propping the door open a bit, just enough to create a gap in the doorway.
The angle of the human-drone swarm in the sky was just right now. There was no need to carry the metal ball outside—it could shoot from here. So Pei Ran simply placed the metal ball on the surface of the reception desk.
People saw the broken ball move on its own.
A pair of folded arms extended from the ball’s body, like it had grown a pair of crab legs. It propped itself up, walked two steps to the gap in the door, adjusted its position, and the sphere rotated. That large black eye looked out at the sky between the buildings.
Moments later, W decisively began to fire.
He had turned on the silencer, and only a continuous string of light “thud thud thud thud” sounds could be heard.
But the explosions outside were intense. The sounds of the blasts echoed endlessly between the buildings.
Parts of the flying devices rained down from the sky, while the shredded human film fragments fluttered like catkins in spring or falling flower petals, drifting through the air. In the blink of an eye, the road surface was covered in all kinds of strange debris.
The most eye-catching among them was the green light—tiny, dotted specks, like a swarm of fireflies floating above the road, gently rippling.
The human-drone swarm, under attack, immediately launched a charge.
Sheet after sheet of human skin stared wide-eyed, charging forward one after another, fearless and ready to die, completely unfazed by W’s gun barrel, diving straight for the gap in the door.
W held them off with firepower, waiting until they nearly reached the entrance before ceasing fire and retreating. Pei Ran immediately directed everyone to push the reception desk forward together and shut the door tight.
The human-drones crashed wildly against the door, and after realizing there was no hope of breaking it open, they quickly returned to the air like fish with only seven seconds of memory, reassembling into formation and stubbornly continuing their dolphin-leap performance.
Only, this dolphin was now missing its tail, and a large chunk from its belly was gone too.
As soon as they retreated and returned to their original positions, Pei Ran immediately had everyone open the door. W launched a second round of attacks.
Just like that—wave after wave, again and again—W changed out the energy block twice. The number of human-drones in the sky grew fewer and fewer. The dolphin shape gradually became unrecognizable. The remaining drones still stayed in place, diligently continuing to leap out of the sea.
The final time the door was opened, W struck in one breath and shot down the last human-drone charging in, then said to Pei Ran, “Including the ones you just blew up, there were a total of 3,028. At least all the ones we just saw have been eliminated.”
The sphere was incredibly useful.
Tang Dao quickly knocked on the table: So… we can go now?
Pei Ran nodded.
The longer the night, the more dreams [meaning: the longer you delay, the more likely something will go wrong]. They had to take advantage of this opening and leave the city as soon as possible.
Everyone worked together to move the reception desk away, opened the door, and returned to the devastated street outside.
Ai Xia pointed north, as if asking: “We go?”
Pei Ran nodded. Everyone was still afraid. A group of people jogged along the street, heading north.
Pei Ran lagged a few steps behind, silently running a loop and gathering all the grain-sized floating light dots on the street.
There were too many light dots, too dense. They scurried chaotically through her internal organs, bringing that uncomfortable sensation again. Fortunately, Green Light No. 1 was still furiously popping “sunflower seeds.” Even No. 2 and Yulianka’s Green Light No. 3 sneakily nibbled a few when No. 1 wasn’t paying attention.
The city sky was completely quiet. For now, no new human-drones had emerged.
Yercha City wasn’t big, and they were close to the northern outskirts. The road ahead quickly became desolate. Leaving the city and looking forward, all that remained was a vast stretch of reddish-brown earth.
The terrain here was very unusual, filled with one deep fissure after another, as if the ground had been torn open in strips, and then the cracks had been filled back in with soil, forming undulating deep ravines.
Just like the outskirts of White Harbor City, in this age of hovercars, there were no roads on the ground. They had to find their own way through the uneven ravines.
After leaving the city, everyone relaxed a little, and their pace slowed down. They still had to walk for several hours—running wouldn’t do.
Green Light No. 1 hadn’t gone to sleep and was still cracking sunflower seeds.
Pei Ran took the chance to grab the half-snacking No. 1 into her mind.
It reluctantly paused in her mind’s visual space, as if asking: What?
Pei Ran directed it to begin writing.
[J. T. N. 3.]
After writing four characters, it stopped again, showing no intention of hopping over to the right for the next one.
Even after consuming so many small light dots, it still couldn’t manage to write the fifth character.
Pei Ran realized that the further it went, the more green light was needed to upgrade.
A few days ago, it had briefly written the character for “medicine” [药], and also written “drug” [药物], which had only yielded fragments of a medicine box. This time, after so long and with so many upgrades from the green light, it might actually be worth trying “anti-rejection drug” [抗排异药]. Maybe the generated medicine box fragment would be even larger.
But the situation ahead was still unclear—this wasn’t the right time to test it. Better to keep the green light on hand in case of unexpected situations on the road.
She sent Green Light No. 1 back to continue cracking its “sunflower seeds.”
This twenty-kilometer journey didn’t seem long, but it was hard to walk.
The cold wind on the open plains stirred up red dust and sand, sweeping across the undulating ravines with a mournful, whimpering howl.
To move forward through the ravines meant constantly climbing up and down, like trekking across mountains. It was a challenge for the children and elderly in the group. The team’s pace was slow, and they had to stop from time to time to let those who had fallen behind catch up.
W said to Pei Ran, “Put me down. Let me walk on my own.”
“It’s fine. I’ll carry you,” Pei Ran said. “You’re very light.”
The metal sphere, whatever material it was made from, was extremely light—probably not even heavier than a large can in the big backpack Pei Ran carried.
The group trudged forward with difficulty.
They stopped and started, and the dim orange-red sun in the sky slowly rose to the top of the sky, then began to set again. By now, it was afternoon—they had traveled half the distance.
During the next rest break, W spoke softly next to Pei Ran’s ear: “Ahead is the southern entrance to Black Well. The entrance is inside a very large ravine—you’ll know it when you see it. You won’t mistake it.”
“The entrance is hidden,” he said. “Next to it is a noticeable white stone.”
Pei Ran said, “I need to tell everyone about this. In case someone falls behind, they’ll still be able to find the place.”
But communication was too difficult.
With Ai Xia and Tang Dao, at least there was some way to exchange information, even if every sentence took time. With the others, it was nearly impossible to communicate effectively.
W said, “I’d better draw it.”
He quickly sent over the drawing. This time, he didn’t fuss over any technique—he simply created a photo. It was a wide panoramic view of the ravines, with the location of Black Well’s entrance marked in red.
The second image was a close-up of the entrance area. Inside the ravine, a large white stone was half-buried in the red earth—very eye-catching.
W glanced at it with Pei Ran and said, “You said that technique is for the sake of expression. I think in this situation, a photo communicates better.”
He wasn’t wrong. Pei Ran immediately showed everyone the “photos” he had made.
After a short rest, the group set off again, and up ahead, a large complex of buildings appeared between the ravines. It looked like a factory—only, it seemed already abandoned.
W said, “We’ve reached the mining zone.”
He explained, “Black Well was originally a massive mine shaft that extended deep underground. Later, the military found the structure of this area very suitable for converting into an underground base, so they requisitioned the mining zone and boldly transformed it into an underground city.”
After another half-day of walking, the group had stretched out again. Everyone was exhausted. Pei Ran raised her hand, pointed ahead, and signaled to rest up ahead.
Suddenly, W said, “I hear a distinct sound. Sounds like aircraft.”
As soon as he spoke, he swiftly turned to face the sky behind them, ready to fire at any moment.
Pei Ran now heard it too—a familiar buzzing, like a swarm of bees.
The undulating ravines blocked their view, but moments later, beyond the cliff-like red ridgeline, a massive swarm of human-drones rose into the sky.
Countless pale, flat faces floated in the air, spreading massive wings that blotted out the sky.
Out in the completely exposed wilderness, the group of people was far too conspicuous. The human-drone swarm instantly spotted them and flew toward them with clear intent.
There were simply too many of them—seemingly even more than the ones they had encountered in Yercha City. With W’s remaining firepower, there was no way to eliminate a swarm of this scale.
W immediately made a decision: “I’ll suppress them with fire. We move forward—there’s a metal-structured tunnel ahead. We can hide inside.”
The metal sphere rotated to adjust its angle and opened fire at the sky.
Without needing Pei Ran’s command, the others had already instinctively bolted into a run the moment they saw the drones appear in the sky.
A few hundred meters ahead must have been the tunnel W mentioned. It looked like a section of abandoned tunnel supported by a metal framework, extending into the side of a hill.
The group was stretched out. The few in front had already reached it. Realizing the place could be used for cover, they grabbed the handle of the tunnel’s door and shook it wildly.
The door seemed to be locked.
They had to get it open quickly. Pei Ran immediately accelerated into a sprint.
The metal sphere hanging from her body bounced and shook wildly with her movement, but it didn’t affect W’s accuracy in the slightest.
In the sky, the human-drones were being blown apart one after another.
W prioritized targeting the ones closest to them, buying the group as much time as possible to escape.
The flying speed of the human-drones far exceeded that of human running. They were rapidly closing in.
With lives on the line, anyone who ran too slow would be flying into the sky with them. Some people simply threw away their backpacks and risked everything to sprint as fast as they could.
Pei Ran reached the entrance of the metal tunnel in one breath and punched the door repeatedly with her mechanical arm.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Finally, with a “clack”, the door opened.
Many people had already run up with her and quickly slipped into the tunnel.
Tang Dao and the others were still dragging the blind Jin Hejun, but their speed wasn’t slow. They charged in with one final burst of energy. Several middle-aged men sprinted in as well, panting heavily. Everyone had run themselves ragged, bent over and unable to straighten up.
But there were still people left behind.
After the long journey, some people simply didn’t have the stamina to sustain that kind of desperate sprint.
That family of three, carrying their child, had fallen behind again. So had the elderly couple, supporting each other with all their strength—yet still unable to run fast.
Ai Xia and her grandmother were also at the rear of the group.
Ai Xia had been holding Engineer Jiang’s arm the whole time. The two of them stumbled forward, unsteady.
The vanguard of the human-drones had already closed in on the tail end of the group. Flattening their bodies and limbs into thin sheets, they dove down, preparing to deliver a deadly embrace.
Only a short distance remained.
W was firing like mad, but it was clear he could no longer hold them back.
One drone rushed straight at Engineer Jiang and Ai Xia—W shot it down, but several more followed close behind.
Ai Xia swiftly turned around and looked up, forming a hand seal toward the sky.
The wave of drones that was just about to reach them suddenly seemed to be kicked mid-air by an invisible force, spinning away.
But more drones came crashing down in black, oppressive waves.
Green Light No. 1, having snacked all the way, was already full. Still reluctant to part with its remaining sunflower seeds, it munched slowly, absentmindedly. Pei Ran directly yanked it into her mind’s visual field.
Pei Ran stared intently at the swarm of human-drones diving down from the sky and quickly wrote:
[R9 Explosion]
She didn’t draw a period—because she suddenly realized something.
The flight units embedded in the drones’ abdomens didn’t look quite like the R9. They seemed slightly smaller, with smoother, rounder edges.
She quickly asked W, “Aren’t these aircraft R9s?”
W was still busy, but his voice remained calm, his enunciation clear: “No. They’re the new generation—R11. The company released them this year.”
Pei Ran had only one thought: Thank goodness Green Light had upgraded and could now write four characters.
She quickly erased the text and hastily scrawled:
[R11 Expl.]
Crack crack boom boom boom— a long string of explosions erupted. A huge section of the drone swarm in the sky blew up all at once.
Bits and pieces rained down in a chaotic shower. The last few people, heads ducked under the falling storm of shredded human skin, kept sprinting forward.
The blast slowed the drone swarm’s momentum. With W’s suppressive firepower, Pei Ran estimated they’d probably make it. She held onto the door, waiting at the entrance.
But the elderly couple at the very back suddenly stumbled, their feet giving way. They lunged forward and both fell hard onto the red earth.
They had been holding hands the whole time—no one could tell whose foot caught first or who had pulled the other down.
The two of them struggled on the ground, trying hard to sit up. Supporting each other once again, they tried to stand.
Hurry—there’s still time. Pei Ran thought anxiously. Hurry!
She glanced at the drone swarm in the sky.
It was too late to run over and save them now—she’d only get herself killed. They would have to rely on themselves.
Whether it was the toll of the long journey, or the exhaustion from the final sprint, or simply age and brittle bones—perhaps something was injured in the fall—no matter how hard they tried, the old couple still couldn’t get up.
They suddenly sat there, unmoving.
The old woman lifted her head and looked up at the sky.
In the sky, countless people were flying—each one distorted into something strange, as if run over by a steamroller, flattened into a thin sheet.
Those flat human-skin wings were spread wide, their eyeballs rolling and spinning as they dove down, trying to turn others into things like themselves—neither human nor ghost, a grotesque parody of life.
They must be dreaming.
The old woman turned to look at her husband.
Their eyes met—decades of tacit understanding between them. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
They had come so far, run for so long. Sitting here was just fine. There was no need to keep going.
The old woman raised her hand and peeled off the tape that sealed her mouth, taking a breath.
“Let’s go,” she said.
She hadn’t spoken for days. Her voice was hoarse.
The old man, seeing her remove her tape, peeled off his own as well.
Their hands were still tightly clasped.
“All right,” he replied.
Just like forty years ago, when he came to pick her up after work. She walked out, reached for his hand, and said, “Let’s go.”
Just like now, every evening after dinner, before they stepped out for a walk, she would go put on her shoes, look back, and ask, “Shall we go?”
And he would always answer, “All right.”
The human-drones dove down, limbs spread wide.
But there was no one there anymore—only the reddish-brown earth, where two slightly darker, blood-colored flowers bloomed.
The family of three finally made it.
Ai Xia and Engineer Jiang made it too.
Pei Ran looked one last time at the two large flowers on the ground, then closed the door.
There were thirty-three people left in the group.