Luo Yang’s gaze fell on the torn sleeve in Yan Zhi’s hand.
The empty pile of broken bricks held only a pool of thick, blackened blood; his brain stalled for a brief moment.
Like gears jamming, the image in his vision lost focus, and the sound of the wind in his ears seemed to be forcibly cut off.
After a few seconds of standstill, he spun around, his boot soles letting out a sharp screech against the concrete.
He lunged at Yan Zhi like a cheetah, grabbing her shoulders.
“Where is he?!”
Luo Yang almost roared it, his voice nearly cracking, sounding strange and dry, filled with undisguised accusation.
Yan Zhi’s pale face had a few streaks of dark red blood and mud on it; combined with her dust-covered white-and-pink casual clothes, she looked completely out of place.
She didn't show any change in expression despite Luo Yang’s rough movements; her pitch-black eyes shifted, and she raised her free hand, pointing toward the service road they had first walked up from.
“He went that way alone.”
Her voice was still airy, devoid of any emotional ups and downs. “He said he was going to send a signal and told me to stay here and wait for you to come back.”
Luo Yang’s chest heaved violently, his fingers clenching the fabric of Yan Zhi’s shoulder until it was completely wrinkled.
“What did I tell you before I left? I told you to watch him!”
Yan Zhi opened her palm, the scrap of deep blue fabric stained with foul blood fluttering slightly in the night wind.
“I tried to hold him,” she stated the fact. “I didn't know how to convince him to give up, so I just gripped his sleeve as hard as I could, but he tore the fabric.”
He shoved Yan Zhi aside and looked in the direction she pointed.
Looking through the gap in the factory ruins, several messy trails of blood were clearly visible on the ground, where concrete chunks and scrap rebar were scattered.
They didn't look like the dripping bloodstains left by someone walking, but rather like large-scale drag marks.
Bloody gouges left by fingers clawing at the asphalt were accompanied by a trail of slime—a mix of dark yellow and blackish-red fluid from the stump of his severed leg—extending all the way into the darkness where the off-road vehicle was parked.
Without wasting another word, Luo Yang bolted in that direction.
The moment he took his first step, his left knee buckled. He stumbled forward, his hands instinctively reaching for the ground.
Rough bits of asphalt scraped his palms, tearing open the blisters previously caused by corrosion; a piercing pain shot through his nerve endings straight to his head.
But he didn't even pause. He pushed himself up with both hands and feet, stumbling forward.
His boots stepped on the bloodstains, making a squelching sound.
The night wind carried the stench of burning rubber and rotting corpses into his nose. Luo Yang gasped for air, his lungs feeling as if they were being repeatedly scorched by fire.
The golden tree in his Sea of Consciousness had completely withered; he couldn't squeeze out even a drop of extra blood energy to restore his body, which was on the verge of collapse.
The silhouette of the off-road vehicle gradually became clear in the darkness. The engine had long since been turned off, and it was so quiet all around that only the dull thuds of distant artillery and explosions could be heard.
Luo Yang’s foot caught on a protruding tile, and he slammed onto the hood of the vehicle with a muffled thud.
He slid down, bracing himself against the front bumper, his gaze sweeping toward the right front tire.
A figure was slumped against the tire.
The deep blue uniform had been turned pure black by mud and blood. That already blackened right leg was bent at an extremely distorted angle, the flesh at the wound completely rolled back, and the necrotic tissue emitted a stench so strong it was suffocating.
“Qian Yao!”
Luo Yang lunged forward, his knees slamming heavily onto the gravel ground. He reached out to grab Qian Yao’s shoulder; the tattered fabric was as cold as ice.
Qian Yao’s head was tilted beneath the car door, his entire face a deathly gray.
His eyes were sunken, his lips cracked and peeling, the edges crusted with white salt and pinkish blood foam.
His chest barely seemed to move. Only after a long time did it give an extremely slow twitch, accompanied by a laborious, thick rattling sound from his throat.
He truly looked like he was on the brink of death.
Luo Yang pressed his fingers against Qian Yao’s carotid artery; the pulse he felt against his fingertips was so faint it was almost undetectable.
“Don't sleep. Wake up.” Luo Yang patted his cheek, keeping the force extremely light, fearing a single slap might dissipate the man’s last breath.
Qian Yao’s eyelids flickered, revealing dilated pupils through the slits.
Those eyes wandered aimlessly in the air for several seconds before slowly focusing on Luo Yang’s blood-stained plain glass spectacles.
He opened his mouth, and two raspy, wheezing sounds escaped his dry throat.
His cracked lips twitched with difficulty, forcing a tiny smile that was filled with helplessness and self-deprecation.
“You’re... back...”
The voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz; Luo Yang had to press his ear to the man's mouth to hear him.
“I told you to stay there and not move!”
The corners of Luo Yang’s eyes were red from the wind. He suppressed his voice as he scolded, “Who told you to crawl out?! Do you not want to live?!”
Qian Yao’s Adam's apple bobbed. He wanted to swallow some saliva, but there was nothing to swallow.
“I came out... to find a phone...”
He squeezed out the words bit by bit, each one exhausting all his strength, his tone heavy with regret.
“The east is a mess... I thought communication might... be restored at some point.”
His fingers clawed futilely at the dusty asphalt, leaving a few shallow bloodstains.
“I had to check the signal... just in case I could... get through to the Old Director... call for fire support... to help the Third Section...”
His voice grew weaker and weaker, and the wheezing in his chest grew louder.
“Too bad... I looked all around here... but couldn't find it...”
Luo Yang’s molars were clenched so hard that the taste of blood seeped from his gums.
“Can't you just stay the hell down?!”
Luo Yang cursed, his voice trembling.
“Is sending a signal something a dying man should worry about? Even if you got through, would you have the strength to speak?!”
He considered himself someone who didn't get emotional easily.
But he cared deeply about those close to him.
The Third Section was one of the combat sections in the Ability Bureau that he collaborated with most frequently. He and Qian Yao had worked together countless times; despite the age gap, their relationship was one of mutual respect and friendship.
Whenever a major incident occurred, the Third Section was always the first to request Luo Yang’s help.
Every time Luo Yang needed the bureau to reimburse equipment costs, Qian Yao was always the first to help him sign the paperwork.
Seeing Qian Yao in a state where he looked like he couldn't hold on much longer, Luo Yang was truly both angry and anxious.
Qian Yao didn't argue. He just kept his mouth half-open, panting helplessly for two shallow breaths. The weak rising and falling of his chest became even smoother, and his eyelids began to droop.
“Don't sleep! I got the people from the Third Section out; they’re right behind me! Keep your eyes open and watch them come over!”
Just as Luo Yang was about to draw his dagger to slit his wrist and force another feeding of blood into Qian Yao...
A faint sound came from the distance.
Ding-ding-dong-dong, ding-ding-dong-dong.
It was a crude, synthesized electronic melody.
Against the background noise of rumbling artillery fire, the music was miniscule, sounding as if it were coming from beneath thick soil and bricks.
Luo Yang’s movements froze instantly.
He tilted his head, ears pricked to catch the direction of the wind.
The music was still playing—a monotonous, looping, mechanical ringtone devoid of any emotion.
Someone was calling.
It was Qian Yao’s phone!
Luo Yang suddenly sprang from the ground. Following the sound, he lunged toward it in a few quick strides.
The source of the sound was in a discarded drainage ditch three meters behind the off-road vehicle.
The ditch was filled with plastic trash, silt, and broken bricks.
Luo Yang jumped straight in, his hands frantically digging through the foul-smelling mud and rubble.
Sharp glass shards cut his fingers, and black mud filled the gaps under his fingernails. He didn't notice, his fingers digging like iron rakes to clear the debris.
“Keep ringing! Keep ringing! Don't stop!”
He cursed under his breath, his hands moving so fast they were a blur.
His fingertips touched a hard, square object with metal edges.
Luo Yang yanked it out of the silt.
It was a black military smartphone covered in mud. The screen protector was half-shattered, but fortunately, the screen was still intact, stubbornly lit up.
Two words were flashing on the caller ID.
“Director”.
Luo Yang haphazardly wiped some mud off his thumb on his pant leg, swiped hard to answer, and pressed the receiver tightly against his ear.
Old Director Li Jinqi’s urgent roar, nearly cracking from the strain, instantly pierced through the receiver and into Luo Yang’s ear, accompanied by the chaotic background noise of voices.
“Qian Yao! Are you still alive or not?! If you are, answer me right now!”
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