Ahead was Nan Yi’s small white villa. Lu Ming gestured for everyone to rush toward it.
He reached the villa’s main gate first, turned around, and waited for Uncle He.
Uncle He, chased by a horde of grotesque, frenzied fusion creatures from behind, actually pushed beyond his limits and ran incredibly fast, not falling behind the others at all.
Gasping for breath, he arrived, bent down, and reached his hand into the gap between the door hinge and the wall, fumbling around.
He seemed to pull something, and the heavy door slowly began to open on its own.
Pei Ran: ?
In such a high-tech era, the front door of the home belonging to the leader of a faction called the “Technology Vanguard Party” actually used such a primitive mechanical mechanism. Still, with fewer smart control systems, it was less likely to malfunction during the Silence.
Everyone swiftly took shelter inside.
As soon as Uncle He entered, he rushed straight to a marble statue beside the door.
The marble statue, including its thick base, stood over two meters tall, its blank white eyes gazing down at everyone. Uncle He dashed over, stood on tiptoe, and twisted the bow and arrow in the statue’s hands, adjusting the angle of the arrow from diagonally upward to diagonally downward.
The door immediately responded, beginning to close slowly.
The automatic closing speed wasn’t fast—leisurely, even—making it agonizing to watch.
Just as the crazed janitor wielding a chainsaw was about to reach them, the door finally, politely, shut with a last gentle click.
“Bang—”
Something slammed against the metal door, followed by a long series of frantic banging noises.
Yet the thick, sturdy metal door remained completely unmoved.
Only then did the squad members catch their breath and turn to examine the white villa.
The villa’s doors and windows were tightly shut, the windows reinforced with unsightly iron bars, making it as secure as a fortress.
Uncle He, familiar with the place, headed inside, and the others followed.
“Whoosh—”
The moment they passed the statue, a faint whistling sound cut through the air.
Pei Ran instinctively rolled aside, taking cover behind a stone fountain in the courtyard.
Only after dodging did she see what she had just avoided.
It was a strange type of arrow Pei Ran had never seen before—made of metal, with a very short shaft, no longer than a palm, but the arrowhead was sharp and pointed.
And it wasn’t just one.
The villa was like a tightly guarded fortress, with these arrows shooting out from unknown locations, their force incredibly strong, whistling through the air as they flew toward them.
Abu and Ueno Tōru quickly joined her, taking cover behind the fountain, while Lu Ming, Mia, and Uncle He swiftly retreated, ducking behind the statue’s pedestal.
Lu Ming turned to Uncle He with a questioning look. Uncle He spread his hands in panic, clearly conveying: I have no idea why there are traps like this in the yard!
The arrows were genuinely lethal—no joke—so no one dared to expose themselves.
They were stuck in a standoff.
They had come to rescue someone, only to be blocked by the target’s own defensive mechanisms, unable to even reach the front door of the building.
The moment they took cover, the arrows stopped firing.
The mechanical spider quietly crawled out of Pei Ran’s pocket, scurried down her leg, and peeked out from behind the statue.
“It’s definitely a motion-triggered mechanism—only reacts to large targets, ignores small things like me.”
He referred to himself as a “small thing.”
Unaware of the irony, W continued analyzing, “Looks like some kind of repeating crossbow mechanism. I’ve spotted two firing positions, both at the villa’s second-floor windows. Scanned the area—no other firing points detected.”
So the simplest solution now was to use an ability to directly destroy the firing points.
But in this team, aside from Abu, everyone was holding back their true capabilities—Pei Ran wasn’t planning to use her green light either.
She scanned the lawn.
“There are traces of arrows fired into the ground. The upturned soil is still fresh, meaning someone—or some frenzied fusion creature—must have triggered the arrows recently, and the arrows were later collected.”
W replied, “Exactly. That means someone’s still living inside the villa.”
Pei Ran sighed. “No idea what the person inside is up to.”
They’d come to rescue him, yet now they had to get past his courtyard defenses first.
Then Pei Ran noticed Lu Ming taking off his backpack and pulling out a whistle.
“Toot—”
“Toot—”
Pei Ran: “…”
Pei Ran: Since there’s no doorbell here, he just made one—trying to toot the homeowner out.
W said, “On this island overrun with frenzied fusion creatures, making such a loud commotion is a truly rational move.”
Lu Ming risked tooting the whistle several more times, but it was useless—the small building remained silent, with not a single person in sight.
W said, “Actually, there’s another way.”
Under the cover of the grass, the mechanical spider stealthily scurried forward across the lawn, quickly covering some distance before stopping.
He said, “The firing points on the second floor have blind spots—they only cover about four-fifths of the front yard. Starting from the line where I’m standing now, moving forward will take you out of the crossbow’s range.”
Pei Ran understood his meaning: as long as they dashed fast enough, they could reach the safe zone.
The problem was, the arrows were too numerous and too fast—Uncle He and Abu definitely couldn’t make it through. They could either stay hidden here for now while the others went in first, or someone would have to disable the firing ports on the second floor for them.
They couldn’t hide here forever.
Since her mechanical arm had already dug into Tanggu Dam’s belly and blown up the Thinker—things everyone in Black Well knew about—her skills weren’t exactly a secret anymore.
Pei Ran quickly calculated in her mind, then rushed out.
The motion sensors were sharp. The moment she moved, crossbow bolts Raind down from the second floor.
Mid-sprint, Pei Ran rolled several times, dodging arrow after arrow, and successfully reached the spot where the mechanical spider was waiting.
As soon as she arrived, the spider immediately followed, hopping onto her pant leg and stealthily climbing back into her pocket.
Once in the safe zone, Pei Ran didn’t stop. She reached the front of the building and began scaling the outer wall.
In just a few moves, she was up, clinging to the second-floor window, where she yanked out the hidden firing mechanism.
It looked like a repeating mechanical crossbow, with an ammunition box for bolts beside it and a complex set of wiring behind it.
Pei Ran tossed it onto the windowsill, slid back down, then moved to the other side of the building, scaling the wall just as effortlessly as a gecko.
She dealt with the firing point on this side the same way before turning back and gesturing to the others—”Come over.”
The rest of the group sighed in relief, leaving their hiding spots and darting to the door.
Lu Ming gently twisted the doorknob.
The door seemed locked, so he looked at Uncle He.
Uncle He, trembling, reached out to feel the carvings on the doorframe, as if searching for the mechanism to open it.
Abu was the last to arrive. She stepped forward and abruptly pressed down on Uncle He’s outstretched hand.
She wouldn’t let them open the door.
Pei Ran, still perched on the wall’s ledge with a clear overhead view, noticed it instantly—the moment Abu touched Uncle He’s hand, she froze, and an expression of pity flickered across her face.
It was unclear what she had seen this time. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for Uncle He.
Uncle He was startled and froze even more. Lu Ming turned his head to look at Abu.
Abu shook her head at Lu Ming, then lowered her gaze, as if concentrating on sensing something.
Pei Ran silently communicated with W: “So Abu foresaw that opening the door would be dangerous.”
W replied: “That’s my guess too.”
Pei Ran pondered: “But if a precognitive can foresee an event and then change it so it never happens, can that still be called precognition?”
W said: “If you think of the world’s events as a single line, this kind of foresight seems contradictory. But if you imagine the world as a tree full of branches, there’s no problem at all.”
Pei Ran understood. With a light pull, she hoisted herself onto the second-floor windowsill and crouched there quietly, staring down at Abu in thought.
“You mean the world is like a tree, and we’re the monkeys on it? The moment we sense danger on one branch, we immediately leap to another?”
She moved so abruptly that the mechanical spider clung tightly to her clothes with its tiny claws.
W: “You can just say it—no need to act it out.”
Pei Ran freed one hand to pinch the spider in her pocket, threatening: “Did you just call me a monkey? Keep talking nonsense, and I’ll snap your little legs off.”
W: “The Federation has animal protection laws. I’ll sue you for abusing your pet.”
As they bickered, Abu finally finished her deliberation and looked up at Pei Ran.
She pointed at the second-floor window beside Pei Ran.
Pei Ran understood her meaning—Abu seemed to be saying that this branch was safe, that they could enter here. It was a shame she couldn’t communicate more clearly.
Pei Ran released the spider and gave Abu a thumbs-up. After scanning the room inside, she extended her mechanical arm, gripped the metal bars of the window, and gave them a gentle tug.
Abu was stunned—she hadn’t expected Pei Ran to grasp her meaning so completely and act on it immediately.
The bars bent like noodles under Pei Ran’s grip, obediently warping to the side. The glass window inside was locked, so Pei Ran simply punched through it, widened the opening with a few more strikes, and agilely slipped inside.
She found herself in an open-plan living room on the second floor. Every window was tightly curtained, but the room wasn’t dark—lights were on.
Pei Ran thought: “No power outage here.”
W replied: “Must have an independent power supply.”
This little villa was well-defended, with electricity—a perfect fortress for the apocalypse.
The living room was elegantly furnished, with clean-lined sofas and minimalist decor. A few paintings hung sparsely on the walls.
Pei Ran swept her gaze across the room, but something felt subtly… off.
What was it?
Everything looked completely normal—so normal it was almost unsettling. Yet Pei Ran couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
She took a few more quiet steps forward before it suddenly hit her.
At a time like this, its very normalcy was abnormal.
“W, have you noticed something strange? There’s not a single trace of fire here.”
From the onset of the Silence to its escalating waves, even the text on contact lenses had burned away. Yet this house—or at least this living room—showed no signs of having been burned at all.
The villa’s fire sprinkler system might have extinguished flames, but there wasn’t even the faintest mark of scorching anywhere.
Further ahead was a spacious hallway, equally untouched by fire.
Everywhere she looked, it was the same.
The Federation had indeed issued warnings urging people to remove written text. Maybe the homeowner had been clever enough to realize the danger early and purge every word in the house beforehand.
But that didn’t add up.
Removing text from one’s person wouldn’t take much time, but this was an entire villa. Visible or hidden, the amount of text should have been overwhelming. With time so tight, how could anyone have scrubbed every last word from the entire house before the Silence escalated?
Pei Ran glanced at a painting on the wall and moved closer to inspect it.
“Look, there’s no signature on this painting.”
It wasn’t scraped off—it had never been there to begin with.
She crept forward and picked up a brass lion figurine from a side table. Even its base lacked a manufacturer’s mark.
This was a house completely devoid of text. The eradication of words here had been executed with terrifying thoroughness.
Then—”Click.”
A faint sound came from behind. It was barely audible, but neither Pei Ran nor W missed it.
The person behind her never expected that such a tiny noise would give them away. Before they could process what was happening, Pei Ran was already moving.
In an instant, they were pinned face-down on the carpet, their crossbow confiscated, their shoulder wrenched into a painful lock.
They didn’t dare make a sound, twisting their head to look at Pei Ran. Their eyes landed on the circular emblem sliced into her combat vest—the mark of the FBSMD.
They were Federation personnel. A rescue team.
The struggle stopped.
Pei Ran had already seen it too.
The man holding the crossbow looked no older than thirty—their rescue target, Nan Yi.
Like Basserway from the Heritage Party, Nan Yi of the Technology Vanguard Party also had striking looks and an imposing presence.
He was dressed in a thick robe, with noise-canceling headphones still hanging around his neck.
The outside world had been in chaos, and yet he’d been… sleeping?
Pei Ran released his arm, letting him stand, then pointed downstairs and mimed opening a door.
Nan Yi immediately understood. He led the way, striding quickly to the staircase and descending.
When Pei Ran saw the ground-floor hall, she fell silent.
Nan Yi had rigged this place with traps too.
Thankfully, Uncle He hadn’t recklessly opened the door earlier. The moment the door was unlocked, all the crossbows would have fired at once, turning anyone at the entrance into a pincushion.
Abu’s judgment had been absolutely correct.
Nan Yi walked over, methodically disengaging each trap’s trigger mechanism before finally unlocking the door to let Lu Ming and the others in.
Pei Ran watched from the second-floor staircase when she suddenly saw something move.
One of the crossbow devices hadn’t been fully deactivated. A bolt shot out with a “whoosh.”
It nearly struck Nan Yi in the back—but he happened to turn sideways at the last second, and the arrow barely grazed past him.
Lu Ming, standing behind Nan Yi, spotted it instantly. With lightning reflexes, he dodged aside.
The bolt lost some momentum as it whizzed past him—only to embed itself in Abu’s thigh.
“Bang!”
The oddly designed bolt wasn’t just a simple projectile. Its arrowhead exploded on impact.
Abu’s leg was instantly mangled, blood soaking through.
Pei Ran was silent for a moment before murmuring, “She stood at the door deliberating for so long… yet didn’t foresee getting shot like this after entering?”
Abu’s legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees. Her face twisted in pain, but she clenched her teeth, not making a sound. Strangely, her expression showed no surprise at all.
Pei Ran realized—maybe she had foreseen it.
This was her choice.
Perhaps, among the countless branching possibilities of the world-tree, this was the best outcome she could choose.