Outside lay a vast expanse of flat sandy beach, where the aircraft had left a deep, long trail in the sand.
As she stepped out of the cabin, Pei Ran truly saw the ocean for the first time.
A cold wind howled, and white waves churned, rolling onto the shore one after another. The air was thick with a salty, fishy scent.
The water stretched endlessly to the horizon, as if this lonely island were the only land left in the entire world.
So this is the sea, Pei Ran thought.
Half-buried in the sand beside her boot was a small white fragment.
Pei Ran glanced at it and immediately knew—it looked exactly like the pictures of seashells she had seen in books.
Pure white, flawless, with radial patterns.
She bent down, pretending to adjust her shoelaces, and secretly picked up the shell.
Cold, fine sand slipped through her fingers as the small shell sat cool and hard in her palm. Clutching it, she stood up and quietly slipped it into her combat suit’s pocket.
Lu Ming and Ueno Tōru were crouched in front of the aircraft, inspecting it.
Pei Ran walked over to take a look. Two large holes gaped in the belly of the craft, exposing damaged wiring and components inside. Judging by the size of the holes, it must have been the work of the seagull amalgam.
After studying it for a long time, Lu Ming straightened up and tapped Morse code on the aircraft’s exterior: [There’s a bit of a problem. Needs repairs. I don’t have the right tools or parts.]
His Morse was better than most, though still not fluent—he had to pause frequently to think, likely having learned it post-Collapse like everyone else.
Pei Ran asked: [If we had the tools and parts, do you think you could fix it?]
Lu Ming replied: [I think I probably could.]
W’s cold voice sounded in her ear: “‘I think I probably could.’ With the suspension system this badly damaged, Deputy Team Leader Lu is quite the optimist.”
Lu Ming continued explaining to Pei Ran: [I minored in aircraft manufacturing engineering in college.]
Curious, Pei Ran asked W, “Is he telling the truth?”
W let out an ambiguous grunt—it was impossible to tell whether it was a “Hmm” or a “Hmph.”
Since he didn’t immediately call Lu Ming a liar, it must have been true.
Pei Ran suggested: [Let’s go inland and look for people first? Maybe we’ll find tools and parts along the way.]
Lu Ming replied: [That’s what I was thinking too.]
Pei Ran silently said to W in her mind: “Whether he can fix it or not, we have to make him try his best. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck on this island with no way out.”
Lu Ming stood up and calibrated his position with his wristband.
W spoke up: “I’ve already checked. Nan Yi’s villa isn’t far from here—it’s halfway up the mountain, roughly at your one o’clock direction on the map.”
Sure enough, Lu Ming gestured for them to move in that direction, then turned to fetch Uncle He.
Having just survived a crash and witnessed another death, Uncle He looked even paler, his entire body visibly trembling. He was practically being dragged forward by Lu Ming.
Pei Ran also pulled up the map on her locator and cross-referenced it with the tracking marker from Greenlight No. 4 in her mind.
The marker’s direction was roughly the same as Nan Yi’s villa, with only a slight deviation.
Captain Mia, who had just finished burying her comrade’s body on the beach, walked over. She had recovered from her initial grief, now gripping her gun with a calm expression.
They had set out with seven people, but in the blink of an eye, only six remained. The six of them shouldered their packs and crossed the beach, heading inland.
Abu walked side by side with Pei Ran, her arm brushing against Pei Ran’s elbow.
Suddenly, Abu turned her head to look at Pei Ran.
Pei Ran returned her gaze: What is it?
Abu’s eyes were wide, staring at Pei Ran with an expression that shifted from shock to deep concern.
She frowned tightly, seeming to think for a moment, then shook her head gravely at Pei Ran—as if saying, Don’t.
Just then, Lu Ming turned around and pointed at a fork in the path ahead, signaling for everyone to keep up.
Abu immediately averted her gaze, acting as if nothing had happened, and quickened her pace to follow Lu Ming.
Pei Ran said to W in her mind: “Abu’s ability really might be precognition. I think when she touched my arm just now, she saw something.”
Could she have seen Pei Ran going to find Xing Wuxian?
W, tucked in Pei Ran’s chest pocket, had also noticed. “I think so too. It seemed like she was warning you—whatever you’re planning is dangerous. Don’t do it. Pei Ran, in most stories, people who ignore the prophet’s warnings die very quickly.”
Pei Ran was puzzled: “What kind of novels are you reading? The mystery novels I recommended don’t have prophets in them, do they?”
W replied vaguely: “Just… all kinds of novels.”
Pei Ran watched Abu’s retreating back. “Honestly, I think if a prophet keeps revealing the secrets they see, they’ll be the ones who die quickly.”
Leaving the beach, they began climbing the mountain.
Pei Ran quickly realized that this group—composed of FBSMD members and special forces soldiers—was in excellent physical shape. Their pace was much faster than the ragtag team from their last mission to Black Well.
The mountain path wasn’t difficult either, well-maintained and flanked by towering ancient trees whose canopies blotted out the sky. The road was neat, smooth, and remarkably clean.
It was unnaturally clean—not a speck of trash, not even a fallen leaf or a stray blade of grass.
Pei Ran wondered aloud, “In the era of hovercars, who even builds roads this well-maintained anymore?”
W replied, “Because many people who come here for vacations still enjoy jogging for exercise.”
Along the road, villas appeared intermittently, each spaced a fair distance apart and designed in distinct styles.
Yet everything was deathly silent, without a single human in sight.
The house numbers on the gates had long been burned away, but the villas themselves remained almost entirely untouched by fire, perfectly preserved.
Pei Ran frowned. “Not a single one burned down?”
W said, “These villas were built to extremely high safety standards—top-tier fire suppression systems, most with their own water purification and storage units. No need to worry about water supply cuts.”
Lush trees, beautiful houses—the island looked peaceful, frozen in time.
If not for the fact that someone had just had their skull pierced by a seagull amalgam, Pei Ran might have believed the illusion.
Everyone remained on high alert, guns in hand, footsteps deliberately light as they moved deeper into the island.
The road curved ahead, the trees thinning, opening up the view.
Midway up the mountainside, a cluster of villas faced the sea, occupying the island’s prime real estate.
Pei Ran ran another scan with Greenlight No. 4.
This time, the marker’s location was crystal clear—judging by direction and distance, it was right up ahead.
W chimed in: “See that stretch of gray on the mountainside? That’s the island’s largest and oldest estate. It belongs to the Xing Wuxian family.”
The manor stood out starkly.
Its gray stone architecture was antiquated, clearly centuries old, ivy crawling up its walls. The sea-facing windows were all tightly shut, dark curtains visible behind them.
“Originally, this island only had their retreat. The imperial family loved vacationing here. But after the monarchy was abolished, other villas slowly started appearing.”
Lu Ming stopped abruptly and pointed ahead.
His finger aimed slightly below the royal estate, at a two-story white cottage.
Compared to the old manor, it was tiny—but sleek, modern, and undoubtedly Nan Yi’s vacation home.
As the road curved again, Abu suddenly halted.
She reached out to grab Lu Ming, but he had already turned at her movement, his expression asking, ‘What’s wrong?’
Abu pointed to the high wall of a nearby villa, then quickly mimed climbing over it.
Without another word, Lu Ming immediately took a few steps back, sprinted forward, kicked off the wall with his boot, and grabbed onto a protruding section of the high wall. In one fluid motion, he hauled himself up to the top.
Under normal circumstances, scaling a wall like this would’ve triggered the villa’s security system instantly. But whether due to a power outage or the system burning out during the Collapse, the place was eerily silent—no alarms, no movement.
Seeing him take the lead, the others followed swiftly.
Captain Mia, well-tRaind, cleared the wall effortlessly, as if it were child’s play. Ueno Tōru scrambled up just as quickly, dropping into the courtyard on the other side.
Lu Ming stayed perched on the wall, leaning down to offer Uncle He a hand. With a firm yank, he pulled the older man up.
Then he reached for Pei Ran.
She didn’t need his help. With a single leap, she caught the wall’s protrusions and vaulted over in one smooth motion.
Lu Ming froze for a second, then retracted his outstretched hand.
W let out a soft, mocking “Hah” in Pei Ran’s ear.
Lu Ming turned and jumped into the courtyard, arms raised to catch Uncle He.
Trembling, Uncle He clung to the top of the wall, casting a terrified glance back at the drop behind him. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, steeled himself, and let go—landing squarely in Lu Ming’s arms.
The only one truly left to fend for herself was Abu.
Petite and seemingly not in FBSMD for her physical prowess, the wall was a challenge for her. She dug her toes into the decorative grooves, fingers scrabbling for purchase as she struggled upward.
Pei Ran hesitated, then extended a hand.
W murmured, “Lu Ming’s worked with her for years. Ueno Tōru, despite being stationed abroad, was partnered with her on the last rescue mission in the capital—I checked. They all know her, yet they jumped down without a second thought. Not one stayed to help her up. That tells you something. She really might see their futures on contact.”
Pei Ran tightened her grip and hauled Abu onto the wall.
In her mind, she countered, “If Abu’s truly a precog, she wouldn’t have suggested scaling the wall unless she knew she’d make it over. If Lu Ming understood her ability, he wouldn’t worry about her—she’d already have seen the outcome. Right?”
W faltered.
Then he pointed out, “Notice how Lu Ming avoids touching Abu’s hand at all costs?”
Twice today, Abu had reached for Lu Ming’s arm. Both times, he’d dodged.
Pei Ran: “Who’d willingly let someone else glimpse their future?”
W: “Exactly. So who would?”
Pei Ran released Abu’s hand. Abu nodded in thanks and jumped down.
Pei Ran resigned herself to it. “Well, she’s already seen me once anyway.”
From beyond the wall, around the bend, came the sound of footsteps—clomping, uneven, clearly more than one person.
Pei Ran kept her grip on the wall’s edge, not dropping down immediately. Instead, she peeked over, scanning the road ahead.
A squad of uniformed figures approached.
Five in total, each wearing bright orange caps and matching uniforms striped with reflective tape.
Pei Ran ducked back instantly, landing soundlessly in the courtyard.
The others stared at her. She tapped a brief message into her palm:
[Deranged fusion entities.]
In that split-second glance, she’d registered their grotesque distortions.
One carried an elongated pole ending in a trash gripper, his face dominated by a single enormous eye—glassy and protruding like W’s camera lens—while the other had shriveled to a mere slit.
As she watched, he spotted a withered leaf by the wall.
With mechanical precision, his gripper snatched it up, lifted it high, and released.
The yellow leaf fluttered down.
His lower face split open—a jagged maw stretching ear-to-ear, crammed with needle teeth.
Crunch. Crunch-crunch.
He chewed the leaf like potato chips, brittle echoes punctuating the silence.
Behind him, another worker’s arm morphed into a buzzing electric pruning saw, its blade whirring as it methodically sheared stray branches protruding from villa walls.
W had already scuttled up her sleeve during her reconnaissance.
“Island maintenance crew,” he observed.
Pei Ran frowned. “A place this wealthy still uses manual laborers to sweep roads and trim trees?”
You’d expect cleaning robots or automated sweepers in a place like this.
“The villa owners insisted human workers do a more thorough job,” W explained. “I checked—salaries here are 30% higher than mainland rates, but the residents are absurdly picky. A single stray leaf on the street generates complaints to management. The cleaners operate under insane pressure.”
The buzz of the chainsaw faded along the wall. Pei Ran grimaced—if those things caught them, any “unruly” limbs would probably get trimmed right off.
The mechanical whir and footsteps gradually disappeared.
Only when true silence returned did Lu Ming vault back onto the wall. After confirming the coast was clear, he signaled the others to follow and hauled Uncle He up again.
As the team regrouped on the road, Pei Ran helped Abu scale the wall once more. Just as she prepared to jump down, an icy prickle crawled up her spine.
“Pei Ran,” W warned. “Look across the street.”
The road appeared empty—until her gaze lifted.
There, perched atop a neighboring villa’s wall like grotesque statues, sat the entire cleaning crew.
Motionless. Watching.
Their hollow stares locked onto the intruders mid-climb.
A silent standoff across the asphalt.
Pei Ran mentally groaned: Abu, you foresaw us hiding behind the wall but missed this part?
Lu Ming finally noticed. His hand shot up in a frantic run signal just as—
VRRRRRM!
Chainsaws roared to life. All five workers launched from their perch like rabid hounds.
Still atop the wall, Pei Ran sprinted several paces along its length before leaping—landing her at the group’s forefront.
She cursed internally: We’re just fleeing? No fight?
For FBSMD operatives supposedly hardened against fusion entities, this felt… underwhelming.
At least Captain Mia opened fire.
Her suppressed pistol spat thwip-thwip rounds with lethal precision. Yet bullets proved futile—headshots didn’t slow them; center-mass hits vanished like stones into mud.
The cleaners kept charging, their mutated forms shrugging off damage that would drop any human.
Aside from Abu, three others in the group possessed abilities—yet no one used them.
Lu Ming and Ueno Tōru deliberately withheld their powers for reasons unknown. Following their lead out of caution, Pei Ran kept her head down and sprinted like hell.
In her mind, she quipped to W: “This reminds me of that joke—two friends encounter a bear. One bolts immediately while the other, looking back in despair, yells, ‘We can’t outrun a bear!’ His friend replies…”
W finished: “‘I don’t need to outrun the bear. I just need to outrun you.’”
The entire team now exemplified this survival strategy. Their frantic uphill dash somehow widened the gap—the “bears” fell behind, their chainsaw-wielding frenzy no match for sheer panic-fueled speed.