The middle-aged man let out an uncontrollable scream, his head tilting to the side.
Xing Wuxian turned his head and signaled behind him.
The insurance salesman, dressed in a crisp suit, stepped into view. He walked over and examined the man carefully before saying, “Not dead yet. He’s passed out. Get me some water.”
He, too, could speak aloud.
A burly bodyguard stepped forward and handed him a glass of water.
The bodyguard who handed over the water—Pei Ran had never seen him before. He wasn’t one of the men Xing Wuxian had brought this time. It seemed that in this manor, or perhaps in this very room, there were more people than Pei Ran had accounted for.
The keyhole’s field of view had significant blind spots, leaving much of the interior unclear.
Pei Ran pulled away from the keyhole and glanced around. The hallway remained dark and silent, devoid of any figures.
One option was to kick the door open immediately and shoot Xing Wuxian—but that would mean having to deal with an unknown number of bodyguards in the room afterward.
Of course, there were other ways to kill Xing Wuxian.
Silently, without a trace. They would never notice—kill and leave.
Pei Ran summoned the green light within her.
Then, she noticed something strange.
Her attention had been entirely focused on the torture session inside the room, so she hadn’t realized—at some point, the green lights inside her had fallen back into that odd state again.
Green Light No. 1, No. 3, and No. 4 lay motionless, as if dead. Green Light No. 2 was trembling faintly, seemingly still awake, but listless.
Their condition was as if they had been suppressed by inhibitor cuffs again.
Earlier, downstairs, Pei Ran had still been able to use Green Light No. 4 normally to search for the marker’s location. But now, something was wrong.
Perhaps it was that white machine—or something else—just like how it created a small safe zone where speech was possible, it also suppressed the green lights’ activity.
Yesterday in the mine tunnels, Xing Wuxian’s men had used a machine to suppress the green lights. Today was probably no different.
Pei Ran said inwardly to W: “My green lights aren’t working again.”
W: “Suppressed again?”
Pei Ran reached into the hidden pocket inside her combat jacket. “Yes. I’m planning to—”
Just then, the keyhole suddenly went dark, blocked by something.
The brass doorknob clicked softly and began to turn.
Someone must have been standing in Pei Ran’s blind spot inside the door, opening it to come out.
Pei Ran sprang up from the ground in a flash, leaped back a large step, and immediately turned to run.
The staircase was right across the hallway—the escape route she had scouted earlier. She darted into the stairwell’s turn at top speed just as the person inside the room stepped out.
She heard him say, “Who’s there?”
He must have caught a glimpse of her fleeting figure.
Xing Wuxian’s voice came from inside the room. “Someone’s outside?”
Pei Ran ignored it entirely, rushing down the stairs as fast as she could, planning to hide downstairs first.
Pfft—
A soft sound came from above.
From several points on the ceiling above the spiral staircase, thin sprays of mist shot out simultaneously.
Thick clouds of white vapor, like smoke or fog, dense and heavy, surged forth, instantly enveloping the entire spiral staircase. A faint, unpleasant odor lingered in the air.
Pei Ran held her breath the moment the mist sprayed out—but it was already too late.
Her sense of balance seemed to fail. She watched helplessly as her body tipped to one side. As she fell, she saw two figures emerge from the mist—two of Xing Wuxian’s bodyguards.
Both of them wore masks covering their mouths and noses.
Her consciousness flickered—just for an instant.
When she came to, the night-vision goggles on her eyes were gone. But the surroundings were bright, illuminated by flickering candlelight.
Her vision filled with a vast expanse of dark wainscoting, on which hung a row of enormous portraits.
The paintings likely depicted generations of past royal family members, each dressed in elaborate, cumbersome clothing, their expressions stiff. Under the swaying candlelight, they looked like reanimated ghosts.
Earlier, her view through the keyhole had been limited—she hadn’t seen this wall covered in portraits.
Now, lying on the ground, she faced the very scene from Abu’s prophecy.
She had danced around the branches of the World Tree for so long, yet in the end, she still couldn’t escape that fateful fork.
Her entire body felt weak. The last time she had felt like this was when Shige Ye cursed her with the black notebook.
His family really did love using every possible method to render people powerless.
Weak, limp, unable to resist—leaving them completely at their mercy.
W’s voice sounded in her ear: “Pei Ran? You’re awake?”
Pei Ran replied inwardly, “Yeah, awake. No strength—feels like his little brother’s ghost came back and cursed me with full-body weakness again.”
She struggled slightly—her body could still move, but it was as limp as if she were dRaind of all energy. Propping herself up on one arm, she managed to roll over and turned her head to see Xing Wuxian.
He was still sitting on that embroidered divan with golden patterns, lounging comfortably, his posture barely changed.
He was staring straight at Pei Ran.
“We meet again,” he said.
He motioned to a nearby bodyguard. “Flip her over, face down, hands above her head.”
The bodyguard seemed confused but obeyed, crouching down to turn Pei Ran onto her stomach and pulling her hands up above her head, holding them in place.
Xing Wuxian rose from the divan.
He walked over, crouched beside Pei Ran, and began leisurely searching her pockets himself.
Pei Ran knew—this was his petty revenge for the time at the Black Well entrance when soldiers had publicly searched him.
He pulled out her gun and tossed it aside, then emptied the rest of her pockets one by one—pills, gloves, tissues, and a pen.
But no mechanical spider.
W, sharp as ever, must have hidden somewhere unnoticed.
Xing Wuxian finally finished his slow, deliberate search and stood up. He kicked the gun farther away, then nudged Pei Ran with the tip of his shoe. “Can’t move?”
Pei Ran thought—he could speak from the divan, and now here too, without exploding.
The unconscious middle-aged man nearby could also speak, meaning these spots were all within the suppression field’s range.
When she had rolled over earlier, she had already scanned the entire room.
Aside from the bodyguards Xing Wuxian had brought this time, there were three others she didn’t recognize, all dressed in the same pitch-black style.
Xing Wuxian glanced at the man in the chair. “Seems like we’ve squeezed all we can out of him. Now that you’ve delivered yourself to us, we’ll just interrogate you instead.”
He said, “Killing you would be easy—could do it anytime. The reason I told them to keep you alive is simple: I want to know one thing. How did Shige Ye die?”
He looked down at Pei Ran and sneered.
“Relax, this place is shielded. You won’t die from speaking. I’m not done asking my questions—I won’t let you die so easily.”
He had been keeping people alive—that much was true.
Pei Ran tested her voice: “Shige Ye… was he actually your son?”
Shige Ye might actually have been very young in age, while Xing Wuxian was likely older than his officially reported age. If you adjusted for the age gap between them, it was entirely possible for him to be Shige Ye’s father. And the two of them looked so alike.
Xing Wuxian let out an exasperated laugh at her words. “What’s it to you?”
His tone was calm, even amused—but only he knew the dull, throbbing ache in his chest.
On the surface, he and Shige Ye seemed like polar opposites—one a noble-born, legitimate heir to the royal bloodline, the other an unrecognized bastard cast aside. But in truth, they shared the same mother and father.
Their fates, however, couldn’t have been more different.
Back then, their mother had been an ordinary employee at a royal-affiliated company. Strikingly beautiful, with an especially gentle demeanor, she had caught the eye of Yu He, the patriarch of the royal family.
With a little maneuvering, Yu He forced her to break up with her boyfriend. Over the years, she bore him two children.
Life for the brothers and their mother had been far from easy.
Yanxun, Yu He’s eldest son and the current crown prince, came from a mother whose family wielded immense influence in the Federation, with connections spanning both legal and underworld circles.
As a child, Shige Ye had been deliberately maimed—snatched away in secret and sent to a military lab for an experiment called The Silence.
The procedure, which involved brutal brain modifications, had an astronomically high mortality rate. It was practically a death sentence.
Yet, against all odds, Shige Ye survived. By the time he was found again, he had been left permanently disabled.
Xing Wuxian, through sheer luck, had escaped that fate. Healthy, charming, and clever enough to win his father Yu He’s favor, he was formally taken in at the age of ten.
Officially, he was declared the biological son of the queen. In reality, he was nothing of the sort.
When he left home at ten, aside from his mother, the one he couldn’t bear to part with was his little brother.
But Yu He had no interest in a half-paralyzed son. There was no thought of bringing Shige Ye back with him.
By then, Xing Wuxian was already precociously mature. He knew better than to push—it would only displease his father. So he quietly vowed that Shige Ye would never suffer again.
After their mother passed, as Shige Ye grew up, Xing Wuxian made sure he was well taken care of.
With dedicated attendants, Shige Ye wanted for nothing. Even Yu He occasionally remembered him, asking offhandedly about his well-being in moments of good humor.
Shige Ye, in turn, adored his older brother.
He barely acknowledged anyone else, spending his days lost in drawing comics.
When the Silence first broke out, after handling affairs on his father’s side, Xing Wuxian immediately went to retrieve Shige Ye.
He had mentioned to him before—in the northwest of the Eastern Manya continent, there was a military refuge called the Black Well, fully equipped to withstand most disasters.
Xing Wuxian assumed that, with a capable group of subordinates, even if something went wrong and he couldn’t reach Shige Ye in time, his brother would make it to the Black Well safely on his own.
But when he arrived, what awaited him was news of Shige Ye’s death.
The floor had been littered with minced flesh and blood, and in the thick layer of dust, there were streaks—desperate, clawing marks of someone struggling to move.
They were the traces of a person who couldn’t move freely, fighting hopelessly for survival. Each mark was a testament to their will to live, and each one cut into his heart like a knife.
Standing in that dim, squalid room, his heart had ached as if being flayed alive.
He couldn’t stop thinking—how exactly did Xiao Ye die?
Shige Ye wasn’t the kind to go down without a fight. Had he been tortured, forced to cry out in pain? Or had he, in his last struggle, accidentally spoken a word?
What had gone through his mind in those final seconds?
Had he thought of his older brother?
Shige Ye’s subordinates had told him that he had captured a girl, locked himself in that room alone with her—likely intending to carve her flesh for food.
Xing Wuxian had long known about his brother’s… dietary habits.
Whenever Shige Ye craved human flesh, it was usually when his mental state was under extreme strain.
Back then, the Silence had just broken out. Death was everywhere. A single spoken word could make a person explode. Xiao Ye must have been terrified.
Xing Wuxian’s chest tightened with grief.
He hadn’t needed to be afraid. If he had just held on a few more hours, Xing Wuxian would have reached him.
But he hadn’t waited.
And just like that, Xiao Ye was gone. With him, the last true family Xing Wuxian had in this world had vanished.
The black notebook Shige Ye always carried was also missing.
Not long ago, Shige Ye had excitedly mentioned to him that he had gained traces of green light in his body—and that by using it to draw in that notebook, the events he depicted could become reality.
It sounded like the ability of an Order-type fused entity.
Xing Wuxian had known about fused entities for a while, but he never imagined his brother would become one.
And one with such a terrifying power at that.
The Federation had seen fused entities before, but their abilities had been trivial, barely worth noting. None had ever reached the level of making their drawings real.
At the time, he had warned Shige Ye to monitor the changes in his body and use the green light cautiously, promising to visit soon.
But he had been too busy—embroiled in family affairs, dealing with Yanxun—and before he could make time, the Silence erupted.
The one who killed Xiao Ye—or rather, the one responsible for his death—was undoubtedly that girl who had been locked in the room with him before escaping.
Right then and there, he had sworn to find her.
Alive or dead, he would see her again.
In the midst of the Silence, this task should have been nearly impossible. The Federation was in chaos, and for all he knew, she could have already died silently somewhere, unnoticed.
Yet, against all odds, her trail appeared—conveniently.
She had actually made it to the Black Well.
On the very day he arrived, Shige Ye’s subordinates reported seeing her photo displayed on the central square’s massive screen.
He learned her name. Pei Ran.
An insignificant commoner. A pitiful student, a pitiful worker, scraping by on meager wages—ordinary as an ant in a colony.
People like her lived without meaning and died without a ripple. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have even lifted a finger. A mere glance, a casual order, and she’d be disposed of without a second thought.
Yet this nobody, this ant, had killed his brother. His Xiao Ye.
Time and again, he had tried to have her captured, to make her suffer slowly—only for her to slip away each time.
But today, she had delivered herself to him.
It wasn’t surprising that she had found this place. Perhaps she had overheard his plans to come to Lidao at the Black Well’s entrance. Or maybe she had indeed taken the traceable green light from that dead subordinate—the coroner at the Black Well had noted its disappearance.
What he hadn’t expected was her sheer audacity. To leave the safety of the Black Well, chase him to Lidao, and infiltrate his manor?
Tonight, after interrogating the captive his men had brought in, he had planned to fly back to the Black Well by morning.
Just this one night—and yet, she had broken in.
This was walking straight into a trap.
He had searched her thoroughly but found no trace of his brother’s black notebook. Who knew where she had discarded it?
He had looked into her so-called “heroic exploits,” but nothing suggested she had ever used a drawing-related ability.
Though she had taken up drawing while in quarantine—Xiao Ye’s green light might still be inside her.
He had seen a clip of her practicing in isolation. Her sketches were a mess, unrecognizable. At the time, he had scoffed inwardly. Shige Ye’s talent and skill with a pen weren’t something just anyone could replicate.
Records from the Black Well’s medical system confirmed she carried other strains of green light. Perhaps, as she had reported, they were violent, Collapse-type abilities. Or perhaps she was lying—maybe her power was something else entirely.
Whatever the case, within this suppression field, none of it mattered. She couldn’t use any of them.
She would die. But not before he made her suffer—far more than Xiao Ye had. Maybe he’d even fulfill his brother’s last wish and take a bite out of her himself.
Which part had Shige Ye favored recently? Ah, yes. The calves.
Ah, right—the gastrocnemius. He had mentioned it once.
But before that, he desperately needed to know—why had Xiao Ye spoken in that moment?
In his final seconds, what had happened? What had he said?
He turned and held out a hand to one of the bodyguards, who immediately understood, passing him the peeler knife.
Xing Wuxian gripped the blade and crouched down again, pressing its cold edge against Pei Ran’s cheek.
“Talk. What happened back then?”