Abu was suddenly struck by an arrow, startling everyone. They all rushed over to check Abu’s injury, and Pei Ran also came down from the stairs.
The wound on Abu’s leg had exploded open gruesomely, but fortunately, the force of the crossbow bolt had already weakened by then, so it only injured the flesh and didn’t touch the bone.
She endured the pain herself and fumbled for the medical kit in her backpack. Pei Ran and Captain Mia didn’t let her do anything and together helped clean and treat the wound.
Nan Yi looked apologetic and went to carefully inspect everything again. Only after confirming that there truly weren’t any more loose mechanisms did he go to shut the gate again and swept his gaze over the group of people.
He saw Uncle He, looking confused, as if asking: What are you doing here?
This was a relatively safe small fortress. Nan Yi seemed to be living steadily and comfortably here. Even after seeing rescue personnel, he didn’t react like someone who had seen a savior, overwhelmed with gratitude, desperate to leave immediately.
Lu Ming opened the screen on his wristband and showed Nan Yi a set of images of the shelter.
The images were obviously prepared in advance. With just one glance, Pei Ran could tell they were the work of W.
W explained: “We have a full standard procedure for silent-state rescue missions. Every rescue team is equipped with this set of images to explain the situation at Black Well to those being rescued.”
He had drawn them very clearly, and Nan Yi understood.
He seemed to ponder for a moment. No matter how safe a fortress was, it couldn’t compare to a shelter where one could speak.
Nan Yi thought for a moment, then drew a small boat on the wristband screen, and then drew something that looked like a flying machine, looking toward Lu Ming with a face full of inquiry.
He was asking: If we leave, how do we get off the island?
Truly hitting the sore spot.
Lu Ming had no choice but to draw on the flying machine Nan Yi had sketched, adding a big hole.
Nan Yi: “……”
The flying machine was damaged by a bird collision—how could they possibly leave?
Lu Ming then added some wavy lines beside the flying machine, probably meaning to say that the broken flying machine was now parked by the sea.
Right after, he drew several inexplicable shapes next to it—so strange even gods wouldn’t recognize them. Nan Yi stared at them blankly.
Lu Ming thought for a moment and redrew a stick, adding a rectangular head to the top.
Pei Ran understood—he was drawing a hammer.
Nan Yi was very sharp and also got it this time. He understood that Lu Ming’s meaning was: the flying machine was broken, and he really needed all kinds of tools to repair it—it didn’t necessarily have to be a hammer.
He immediately gestured to everyone, signaling: Follow me.
While they had been going back and forth drawing, Pei Ran and Mia had already quickly and neatly bandaged Abu’s wound.
The two of them supported Abu as everyone followed Nan Yi through the corridor and stopped in front of a room.
Nan Yi twisted the doorknob, looked at Lu Ming, as if asking: Is this what you want?
Lu Ming was completely stunned.
This wasn’t a tool room—it was a genuine treasure cave.
Inside the room stood rows of open shelves, neatly categorized with all kinds of tools and parts, along with boxes and containers of various sizes. What was rare was that none of them had labels. Cabinets lined the walls, presumably holding similar items.
This place looked even more well-stocked than a professional store—truly a paradise for mechanical repair workers.
Lu Ming’s eyes lit up like he had found a priceless treasure and immediately walked in.
He casually opened the virtual screen on his wristband, drew a moon next to the previously sketched flying machine, then drew a hammer over the big hole in the flying machine, and finally made a hand gesture showing the flying machine taking off.
He was saying: We’ll repair the flying machine overnight and leave immediately.
Nan Yi held his hand down and firmly shook his head.
He used his finger to erase the moon on the flying machine, replacing it with a sun.
He was saying: Repairs must wait until daylight.
Why?
As if answering the question in Pei Ran’s heart, strange sounds suddenly drifted from outside in the distance.
“Guji guji——”
“Klang klang klang klang——”
“Guji guji——”
“Klang klang klang klang——”
The “klang klang klang klang” sound was very rhythmic, as if something was striking the ground in unison with a synchronized tempo. The sound was clear.
Lu Ming immediately walked to the window, lifted the curtain slightly, and peered out through the gap—but a tall wall around the villa blocked the view. He could only see the higher terrain beyond, and there was nothing visible there.
Nan Yi turned Lu Ming’s virtual screen around and began drawing on it.
He drew a large bag-like shape, with water ripples around it and a moon hanging in the sky—most likely representing the island. The winding lines on the island seemed to depict roads.
Nan Yi then added a large, chaotic black scribble over one of the roads.
Everyone stared at the black scribble, trying to decipher it—was this the thing making the “guji guji” and “klang klang klang klang” sounds?
What kind of monster was that?
No matter what, Nan Yi’s meaning was clearly conveyed: This island is very dangerous at night. Don’t go out to repair any flying machines. Wait until morning for everything.
Nan Yi pointed upstairs, then pointed at everyone, pressed his palms together and placed them against the side of his face, closing his eyes.
He was saying: There are rooms upstairs where everyone can rest.
He was more familiar with the island, and after just a moment’s thought, Lu Ming nodded in agreement.
Pei Ran gazed absently at the curtain Lu Ming had just slightly lifted.
Just now, she had seen that after all the commotion, it was already getting dark outside. In the sky before night fully fell, a few birds occasionally flew past—she didn’t know whether they were live seagulls or fused creatures.
The power on the island had gone out, and the whole place was shrouded in the dimness of evening.
Looking out from this window, she could just catch a glimpse of the royal estate halfway up the mountain—that was the place she had been longing to reach.
She withdrew her gaze and suddenly noticed Abu staring fixedly at her.
Her eyes were filled with obvious worry.
Nan Yi took the lead and led everyone upstairs.
He first came to a door on the second floor, placed his index finger against his lips and made a shh gesture, signaling everyone to be quiet, then slowly turned the doorknob.
Inside the room, a small nightlight was on, and there was actually someone sleeping on the bed.
It was a young boy, about ten years old at most. He also wore noise-canceling earmuffs and was sleeping soundly.
W, being a data archive, was never stumped by such things. He immediately said, “That’s Nan Yi’s younger brother, named Nan Xuan. He’s originally from here too.”
Pei Ran was a little surprised. “Such a small child actually managed to survive until now, and never made a sound?”
W replied, “Very simple. He has a congenital throat abnormality and can’t speak. The records in the medical system show that Nan Xuan was supposed to begin a series of throat reconstruction surgeries this year—then the Silence happened.”
Well, that worked out in a way.
Looks like the number of rescue targets had just increased by one.
After showing everyone his younger brother, Nan Yi continued down the corridor, opening several guest room doors in one go.
He assigned each person a room to rest in for the night.
Lu Ming made a hand gesture to Nan Yi, indicating he was going downstairs to find tools and parts for the flying machine. Nan Yi glanced around and then pointed at Ueno Tōru, making a gesture of carrying something.
Perhaps they needed to move boxes from the shelves in the tool room—he needed an extra pair of hands.
Since their departure, Ueno Tōru had been aloof the entire time, standing off to the side without getting involved. Seeing Nan Yi assign him something, he looked unhappy—but still went.
After the three of them went downstairs and the hallway fell completely silent, Pei Ran quietly slipped out of her room.
W asked, “Are you going to see Abu?”
“Yes,” Pei Ran replied. “I want to ask her what exactly is going on. The way she looked at me… it’s like I’m about to die.”
There was no one in the corridor. Just as Pei Ran reached Abu’s door, it opened directly.
Abu seemed to have been waiting at the door for her. She grabbed Pei Ran’s arm, pulled her inside, and shut the door again.
Before Pei Ran could even think about how to ask, Abu hurriedly began gesturing.
She pointed to her own eyes, then pointed to Pei Ran, then—with her injured leg—she bent down with difficulty, collapsed onto the floor, and closed her eyes.
She opened her eyes again, gazing intently at Pei Ran, as if confirming whether she understood.
They weren’t very skilled at using Morse code. Pei Ran reached out and tapped just two characters on the low cabinet beside them:
[Prophecy?]
Abu listened closely and nodded immediately.
So she really did have the ability of prophecy.
Pei Ran helped her up and guided her to sit on the bed, then tapped out another question: [Time?]
She wanted to know when the prophecy about her collapse would happen—when in the future it would occur.
Abu understood, thought for a moment, and tapped out her response: [Tonight, very soon.]
Pei Ran asked again: [Location?]
After tapping, she pointed at the floor beneath them.
Abu shook her head firmly.
She didn’t continue tapping Morse code. Instead, she opened the virtual screen on her wristband and began drawing.
And surprisingly, she was very good at it—since the Silence began, aside from AI and professional players like Shige Ye, she was the best artist Pei Ran had seen.
With just a few simple strokes, Abu sketched out the general outline of the royal estate halfway up the mountain.
Pei Ran: “……”
Abu continued, drawing the tall walls surrounding the estate.
Then she drew a small figure climbing up the high wall and finally flipping over it, entering the estate.
She opened a new screen—changing the scene this time.
It was inside a room. The small figure lay collapsed on the ground, eyes closed—uncertain whether dead or alive.
After thinking for a moment, she added more details to the room. There were several sets of curtains, and on the adjacent wall, several large-sized paintings hung side by side. She even roughly sketched the contents of the paintings—all portraits.
After finishing the drawing, Abu slowly tapped out a much longer sentence:
[I saw you climb over the wall and go in—you collapsed.]
The prophet knows everything in her heart.
Pei Ran looked at her. Such a special ability—yet Abu didn’t try to hide it at all, just told her directly, as if she truly trusted her.
Human hearts are hard to read. In times of peace, that might be fine, but in an apocalypse like this, one shouldn’t expose their abilities so casually.
Abu looked at her, as if she had guessed what Pei Ran was thinking, then lowered her head and continued drawing.
Pei Ran silently summoned Green Light No. 3 from within her body. Green Light No. 3 could manipulate the abilities of others. Since this concerned her own fate, Pei Ran very much wanted to see with her own eyes what exactly Abu had seen with her prophetic power.
However, even after using Green Light No. 3, there was no response at all—as if it had no effect.
Abu was almost done drawing. She sketched out a plaza and the surrounding tall buildings. Seeing those towering cylindrical pillars, Pei Ran recognized it at a glance—it was the central plaza of Black Well. Then, on the tallest building, she filled in a large virtual screen. With a few strokes, she outlined a person—ponytail, backpack—it was clearly Pei Ran.
Abu pointed at the figure of Pei Ran on the screen, then pressed her hand to her chest.
Pei Ran understood.
W also spoke beside her ear: “She’s saying she believes someone who would save the Tanggu Dam and Black Well wouldn’t harm her.”
Pei Ran was silent for a moment. “Even I don’t quite believe in myself.”
The lure of Green Light was too strong. In the chaos of the apocalypse, you could never have too many abilities. Someone like Abu, with a seemingly very useful power, yet lacking combat strength—was like a plump sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
Abu finished drawing everything she needed, and tapped out her conclusion: [It’s very dangerous. Don’t go.]
Pei Ran nodded at her: [Got it. Thank you.]
Pei Ran left Abu and returned to her own room.
She closed the door and pondered: “It feels like Abu should be able to see all kinds of possible futures, and pick the one with the best outcome. So why did she only tell me this one possibility about my future?”
W replied, “Because you’re a confirmed monkey.”
Pei Ran: “……”
Pei Ran: “I’m not a monkey. But you are definitely a spider.”
W replied calmly, “So what? I like being a spider.”
But Pei Ran had already figured it out. “She has the power of prophecy, so her own future is the one that branches. Because I don’t have the ability to foresee, if I’m not interfered with, I’ll just keep walking down a fixed path. And after she foresaw my future and chose to intervene—only then did an alternate possibility appear before me.”
“Exactly,” W said, “that’s what I think too.”
The sky gradually turned completely dark. No one came upstairs to ask for help. Pei Ran rummaged through the backpack issued by the supplies department and found a pair of night-vision goggles.
The night vision goggles were military-grade equipment, resembling a pair of swim goggles—lightweight and convenient. Pei Ran stuffed them into the pocket of her combat suit, walked to the door, and gently turned the doorknob.
Abu had warned her, but she still intended to go out.
W said calmly, “Pei Ran, you’re walking along the trajectory of your fate. Are you planning to use yourself as a guinea pig to verify the accuracy of Abu’s prophetic ability?”
He had just found a roundabout way to say: Are you looking for death?
Pei Ran replied, “I don’t plan to enter the estate. I just want to take a look from the outside. As long as I don’t climb over the wall and go in, I won’t collapse on the ground like in the drawing, right?”
She silently opened the door, slipped through the corridor, and returned to the second-floor living room.
Outside the window she had once smashed a large hole in, Nan Yi had reset the crossbow. Pei Ran slipped out through the opening, carefully avoiding the crossbow’s firing mechanism, and slid down lightly along the outer wall, landing on the ground without a sound.
The crossbow’s sensor range was near the front gate. Pei Ran didn’t go that way but circled around to the courtyard wall on the side of the building. Gripping the wall, she climbed up in a few swift movements and lightly leapt down.
She landed directly on the mountain road outside.
The power was out. The streetlights weren’t on. It was pitch dark—no people, and no fused creatures in sight.
Pei Ran took out her night vision goggles and put them on.
The moment she wore them, every blade of grass and every tree became clear, even with distinguishable color.
She moved stealthily uphill in the dark. After walking a short distance, she saw a wide stretch of open green land. Skirting around the green space and continuing forward, the royal estate stood before her eyes.
The old estate was in an excellent location, leaning against the mountainside like a giant aged beast, standing in the darkness, ready to devour everything at any moment.
The entire island was dark. Even if there were survivors, they were tightly covering their lights.
But just now, in the main building of the estate, a curtain over one of the windows seemed…
To have moved slightly, and from the gap, a flickering light shone through—not too bright, not like electric light, more like a candle or something similar.
Pei Ran moved a bit closer and looked up, studying the estate’s surrounding wall.
The wall was very tall, but just like Abu had drawn, she was perfectly capable of climbing over it.
If they were using candles, that meant the generator was probably burned out, and the security system might no longer be functional.
Pei Ran activated Green Light No. 4 and scanned once more. Now she could clearly sense that the marker she had placed was inside the estate.
“Guji guji——”
“Klang klang klang klang——”
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed behind her—the same sounds she had heard inside Nan Yi’s house.
It was like something dull pounding the ground—klang klang klang klang—accompanied by that guji guji, wet and creepy, like something squishing with water.
Pei Ran immediately stepped back toward the side of the road, trying her best to hide her figure behind one of the tall roadside trees.
On the road ahead, looming in the distance, was a massive, pitch-black lump.
No wonder when Nan Yi heard the strange sounds earlier, he drew a chaotic black mass on the screen. From the way this thing surged forward along the road, it was indeed impossible to tell what it was.
The mechanical spider had better vision, and W suddenly said, “They’re people.”
Once it got closer, Pei Ran could also see clearly.
That enormous, churning mass that covered the entire roadway—black, half-transparent, and gelatinous—looked like a sticky, gooey slime.
But it wasn’t entirely slime. If one looked closely, they could make out countless human figures trapped within the gelatinous mass.
There were many people—encased inside the slime-like black semi-transparent substance—running forward with blank expressions.
They were really running.
There were both men and women, their movements uniform and well-practiced, their clothes decent and orderly—likely former residents of the offshore island.
These island villa owners who once required an impeccably clean mountain path for their daily jogs, even after becoming fused creatures, still obsessively continued their night runs along the pitch-black mountain roads of the island, where not a single lamp remained.
That klang klang klang sound was the synchronized pounding of their footsteps against the ground.
This was a giant blob of night-running slime.
Pei Ran paused for a moment. “Fused entities that go night jogging isn’t weird. But where did they get such a massive lump of slime?”
“I don’t know,” W said. “My guess? Someone had a slime pool in one of the villas. I did hear of people ordering massive amounts of slime for fun—made a slime swimming pool or something.”
The area covered by the night-running slime was huge, almost spanning the entire mountain road, squelching along without missing a single spot.
There was no chance to squeeze to the side and avoid it.
And judging by the behavior of deranged fused entities, if they encountered a living person, there was a good chance they’d wrap the person into the slime too—to join them for some late-night exercise.