Pei Ran released the handle, turned around, and summoned the Green Light No. 1 from inside her body.
Well-fed and well-rested, Green Light No. 1 responded instantly to her call.
Pei Ran stared at the approaching Explorers. Once all five had caught up and were close together, she wrote in her mind’s visual field:
[Explorers explode]
Green Light No. 1 had eaten so much takeout that this time, when Pei Ran attempted to write two words, it actually worked.
And after finishing the fifth character, the green light even made a nimble hop to the right—it seemed she could continue writing even more.
This meant that she could now fully write out the complete name of JTN34.
But that thought only flashed briefly through her mind—there was no time to dwell on it. Dealing with the Explorers in front of her was the top priority.
Pei Ran directly drew a period.
In the sky, a series of explosive booms erupted. The five arrogant Explorers were instantly blown to pieces.
Even W seemed to let out a breath of relief in her ear.
Pei Ran turned the aircraft sharply toward the southeast.
The aircraft sped forward at high velocity, the undulating red earth sweeping beneath her feet.
Moments later, the familiar Great Rift Valley opened wide like a giant mouth on the ground ahead.
The entrance to Black Well was close. Pei Ran lowered the altitude of the aircraft.
As soon as she pushed down the lever to adjust the altitude, the pedal beneath her feet violently shuddered. After a loud, grating mechanical clatter, the aircraft suddenly plummeted.
Black Well Base.
Inside the command center.
Marshal Vina was asking, “Agent W, what’s your status?”
W’s voice was calm and steady: “We are crashing.”
The surveillance feed from the patrol robot’s camera reappeared on the command center’s big screen. The lens was plummeting rapidly downward.
Marshal Vina’s heart jumped to her throat, but she still managed to recognize the surroundings and asked, “You’re almost at the southern Great Rift Valley?”
“Yes, not far from Black Well’s southern entrance.”
Chief Executive Basserway stared at the screen, face stern. “I still insist—for the safety of Black Well—this person who is about to mutate must not be allowed to enter Black Well.”
General Eugene couldn’t hold back: “The person you’re referring to just saved Black Well. In my opinion, not only should she be allowed inside, but she should be given the best medical intervention possible to control her mutation.”
Basserway said, “General, you’re being too emotional, not rational enough.”
General Eugene said with a straight face, “While I was ‘not rationally’ fighting in the Third Federal Homeland Unification War, weren’t you still rationally eating infant cereal?”
They were really arguing this time.
The Minister of Finance stepped in to smooth things over. “Everyone’s a bit agitated—it’s understandable, we’re all doing this for Black Well. I just want to remind everyone that according to Black Well’s procedures, for issues with significant disagreement, the Interim Decision Committee should go by the results of a vote.”
Marshal Vina nodded. “Agent W.”
A small screen immediately popped up in front of each person—it was the voting interface for the decision committee, showing only two options: Approve and Oppose.
General Eugene immediately jabbed at it in anger. Basserway also clicked without hesitation, and the other committee members began casting their votes one after another.
Marshal Vina looked down at the small screen in front of her.
The voting was recorded by name. Although the results wouldn’t show on the main screen, all members of the interim decision committee could see them.
Within the committee, the division between the two factions was stark.
She herself, General Eugene, and the other military representatives had all unanimously voted in favor. In contrast, the officials from the original federal government administration, led by Chief Executive Basserway, all voted against.
Only one person voted against their own camp—Lieutenant General Delsa. He sided with Basserway and the others, casting a vote of opposition.
Marshal Vina stared at the results in silence.
After the outbreak of the crisis, the military and high-ranking government officials had successively entered Black Well, forming this temporary decision-making committee. They had adopted a one-person-one-vote system for the time being.
During the rescue operations, Vina had carefully ensured that the number of Basserway’s loyalists who made it to Black Well—and thus into the committee—remained just one seat fewer than the military personnel.
But now the results were clear: the opposition had won by a single vote.
Marshal Vina raised her head.
She said, “Agent W, in accordance with the Interim Decision Committee’s voting result, the issue of allowing Dormant Subject 1593 to enter Black Well will be temporarily shelved and postponed for further discussion.”
Postponed for discussion—everyone here knew what that really meant. Within a few more hours, Pei Ran would likely fully mutate into a frenzied fusion entity, and by then, it would be too late to save her.
In the silence, Marshal Vina continued:
“Agent W, once the aircraft lands, I order your patrol robot to immediately leave her and, with the memory unit, enter Black Well.”
W’s voice remained smooth and calm: “Your instruction has been recorded.”
After all, artificial intelligence was still artificial intelligence—it followed orders absolutely. Marshal Vina felt somewhat reassured and looked toward the big screen.
On the screen, the rapid plummet had stopped. Pei Ran was working hard to pull the aircraft back up.
The aircraft’s altitude had recovered slightly, but its speed had noticeably decreased. It trembled as it moved forward, swaying like an old jalopy, heading toward the Great Rift Valley.
Finally, it barely made it over the top of the rift.
Inside the aircraft, W was executing the emergency landing procedure.
The corrosive liquid splashed onto the fuselage was slowly seeping inward, eating through the components. The aircraft was becoming increasingly difficult to control.
His voice came steadily into Pei Ran’s ear: “Flight posture is skewed—press the left pedal…”
Pei Ran cut him off: “Left pedal’s not responding.”
“Then pull up the control stick first, reduce the speed to halfway on the dial…”
They were really arguing this time.
The Minister of Finance stepped in to smooth things over. “Everyone’s a bit agitated—it’s understandable, we’re all doing this for Heijing. I just want to remind everyone that according to Heijing’s procedures, for issues with significant disagreement, the Interim Decision Committee should go by the results of a vote.”
Marshal Vina nodded. “Agent W.”
A small screen immediately popped up in front of each person—it was the voting interface for the decision committee, showing only two options: Approve and Oppose.
General Eugene immediately jabbed at it in anger. Basserway also clicked without hesitation, and the other committee members began casting their votes one after another.
Marshal Vina looked down at the small screen in front of her.
The voting was recorded by name. Although the results wouldn’t show on the main screen, all members of the interim decision committee could see them.
Within the committee, the division between the two factions was stark.
She herself, General Eugene, and the other military representatives had all unanimously voted in favor. In contrast, the officials from the original federal government administration, led by Chief Executive Basserway, all voted against.
Only one person voted against their own camp—Lieutenant General Delsa. He sided with Basserway and the others, casting a vote of opposition.
Marshal Vina stared at the results in silence.
After the outbreak of the crisis, the military and high-ranking government officials had successively entered Heijing, forming this temporary decision-making committee. They had adopted a one-person-one-vote system for the time being.
During the rescue operations, Vina had carefully ensured that the number of Basserway’s loyalists who made it to Heijing—and thus into the committee—remained just one seat fewer than the military personnel.
But now the results were clear: the opposition had won by a single vote.
Marshal Vina raised her head.
She said, “Agent W, in accordance with the Interim Decision Committee’s voting result, the issue of allowing Dormant Subject 1593 to enter Heijing will be temporarily shelved and postponed for further discussion.”
Postponed for discussion—everyone here knew what that really meant. Within a few more hours, Pei Ran would likely fully mutate into a frenzied fusion form, and by then, it would be too late to save her.
In the silence, Marshal Vina continued:
“Agent W, once the aircraft lands, I order your patrol robot to immediately leave her and, with the memory unit, enter Heijing.”
W’s voice remained smooth and calm: “Your instruction has been recorded.”
After all, artificial intelligence was still artificial intelligence—it followed orders absolutely. Marshal Vina felt somewhat reassured and looked toward the big screen.
On the screen, the rapid plummet had stopped. Pei Ran was working hard to pull the aircraft back up.
The aircraft’s altitude had recovered slightly, but its speed had noticeably decreased. It trembled as it moved forward, swaying like an old jalopy, heading toward the Great Rift Valley.
Finally, it barely made it over the top of the rift.
Inside the aircraft, W was executing the emergency landing procedure.
The corrosive liquid splashed onto the fuselage was slowly seeping inward, eating through the components. The aircraft was becoming increasingly difficult to control.
His voice came steadily into Pei Ran’s ear: “Flight posture is skewed—press the left pedal…”
Pei Ran cut him off: “Left pedal’s not responding.”
“Then pull up the control stick first, reduce the speed to halfway on the dial…”
Amidst the chaos, he asked her, “Pei Ran, can you still use your ability?”
Right after using Green Light No. 1 to blow up the Explorers, Pei Ran had immediately ordered it to resume devouring the frenzied light points inside her body.
Green Light No. 1 immediately responded: it couldn’t eat anymore.
It was still awake. Pei Ran now tried to summon it back into her mind’s visual field. This time, it didn’t resist—she succeeded.
Green Light No. 1 waited silently in her mind. Pei Ran answered W with certainty: “I can still use it.”
The problem was—
Pei Ran wasn’t sure if writing a few words in her mind could help in a crash situation like this.
Was she supposed to write “safe landing”? That felt like scribbling a wish on a prayer slip in a temple. She had no idea if Green Light No. 1, which had only been used to bomb and destroy, even had that kind of function.
“Alright, save it for when you really need it,” W said.
Pei Ran immediately realized—W had always believed her power was a destructive, collapse-type ability. He wouldn’t expect her to write something like a “safe landing” wish slip.
So when he said “save it for when you really need it,” what did he mean?
She didn’t have time to think about it, because W was already saying: “We’re in position. Now step on the right pedal. Steady—We’re going in for landing…”
Pei Ran stepped on the pedal.
But rather than a landing, it felt more like a fall.
As the violent sensation of weightlessness hit her, the metal sphere rotated halfway and turned to face Pei Ran.
This journey was coming to an end.
All the scattered bits and moments from the past few days—breaking someone’s arm with her, pulling out someone’s intestines, running across the dam under the night sky—every single detail, all of it had been stored, untouched, in some unknown corner of the server.
Goodbye, Pei Ran.
The ground rushed up to meet them—a fierce impact and jolt followed. Sand and dust poured in through the shattered top of the cockpit, blanketing everything.