Please read the front matter first, the wealth check-in spot.
Front matter: This is not a typical strong female lead wish-fulfillment story. It involves 1VN dynamics, non-consensual elements, etc. Minors, stay away.
The dim tunnel echoed with the chaotic sound of frantic footsteps.
Jiang Nuan’s lungs felt like they were about to explode. Her legs no longer felt like her own; only pure survival instinct kept her moving forward.
She had only been here for five days after her transmigration.
The first two days were spent accepting the fact that “congratulations, you’ve transmigrated into a garbage world full of monsters.” The next two days were spent digesting the original host’s hazy memories that sent her blood pressure soaring. On the fifth day, she was thrown directly into the restricted zone.
Not even a beginner’s tutorial. This garbage world didn’t grant a shred of decency.
There were many other footsteps nearby, all of them running. No one could clearly see anyone else, but those messy, uneven footsteps gave her a pitiful sense of security.
At least she wasn’t alone.
Not far to her side, there was a dull thud, followed by a panicked cry that pierced the silence.
“Ah—!”
The sound was sharp and short, as if something had abruptly choked it off. It ended abruptly.
The next second, the harsh tearing of fabric exploded through the air, accompanied by a heavy dragging sound. Something scraped across the ground, producing a skin-crawling friction.
Then came the sound of chewing.
Wet, slow, bones being ground to pieces.
Jiang Nuan bit down harder. She didn’t even dare to swallow too loudly.
This restricted zone had only two rules:
Don’t make any sound with your mouth; don’t let the monsters catch you.
Breaking either rule means death.
Simple, brutal, utterly inhumane — just like this world.
From deep within the tunnel came a stifled sob, barely contained. Maybe someone was scared, maybe they’d slipped on something and twisted their ankle in unbearable pain.
The reason no longer mattered, because the moment the tail end of that sound emerged, the dragging reached it.
The chewing sound started again.
Jiang Nuan felt her stomach churn, but she forcibly suppressed the nausea.
Even vomiting would make a sound.
Right now, she was nothing more than a phone set to silent mode. Everything that could vibrate was vibrating, but she absolutely could not ring.
The footsteps behind her were getting closer.
More than one pair.
From several directions came heavy, inhuman steps. A rustling, rustling sound, like something massive dragging its belly across the ground, punctuated by the clicking of dislocated joints.
Jiang Nuan pushed her speed up another notch. The muscles in her thighs were already screaming in protest.
Just then, a huge dark figure suddenly burst out from her left.
It wasn’t a monster. It was a person.
A burly, broad-shouldered man, twice her width at least, like a small bulldozer squeezing in from the side. He slapped a hand on her shoulder and shoved her backward hard.
Just so the monster would find her first.
Jiang Nuan stumbled back several steps, her foot slipping, and she fell heavily to the ground.
Her knee hit something hard, and the pain flashed white before her eyes.
She wanted to curse.
She really, really wanted to curse.
To curse that bulldozer’s ancestors back seventeen generations.
But she couldn’t make a sound.
Not even a single breath.
Jiang Nuan pushed herself up off the ground with her fists. Her knee burned with pain as she ran forward, limping.
But it was too late.
The dragging sound behind her was so close she could smell it — a foul, rancid stench, like something that had rotted for a long time before being unearthed.
There was breathing too. Heavy, damp breathing, right on the back of her neck.
This was it.
Jiang Nuan closed her eyes.
In the instant before death, her mind raced through many thoughts.
Like what the hell had she done in her past life to deserve this? Transmigration was bad enough, but to be thrown into a body with an SSS-rank purification ability whose purification method required full physical contact?
The original host had opted to shoot herself rather than do it.
Jiang Nuan completely understood her.
If it were her, she wouldn’t do it either — at least, that was what she thought when she first heard this news.
But the problem was, the original host was gone, and she was here now!!
Then—
“Bang.”
A gunshot, crisp and clean, passed less than ten centimeters from her face.
The shockwave, searing hot, grazed her cheekbone, lifting several strands of her hair.
Behind her came a dull roar, not human, followed by the crash of a heavy body hitting the ground, making the earth tremble.
Jiang Nuan’s eyes snapped open.
Crouching in the shadows at the top of the tunnel, among the tangled network of pipes, was a man.
Black combat uniform. He was half-crouched between the crisscrossing pipes near the tunnel ceiling.
In his hand, he held a pitch-black sniper rifle, a thin wisp of white smoke still curling from its muzzle.
Jiang Nuan couldn’t see his full face clearly, only the cold outline of his profile and a pair of eyes. They were pitch black, utterly devoid of any extra emotion, looking down at her from above.
They were the eyes of a predator.
The cold sweat on her back instantly ran cold, but not entirely because of the monster from before.
Black combat uniform, the numbered badge on the chest.
Someone from the investigation team.
A man running frantically beside her also spotted the figure. His entire body relaxed, and he nearly collapsed to his knees on the spot — the relief of surviving by the skin of his teeth, the gratitude that someone had finally come to save them.
But Jiang Nuan didn’t have that expression.
Instead, every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
If they found out about her ability, her fate as a public power bank would be sealed.
The man above was still looking at her.
He had lowered his gun, holding it in one hand, his other hand propped on a pipe, looking ready to jump down at any moment.
Jiang Nuan’s mind raced.
He didn’t know her. The original host’s identity file should only be known to a few people at High Command. Members of the investigation team couldn’t possibly recognize her.
All she had to do was act like an ordinary survivor.
Run.
Once she got out of the restricted zone, she would run, the farther the better.
She averted her gaze, no longer looking at the man above. Her knee still ached, but she gritted her teeth and ran forward.
The next second.
A hand clamped down on her wrist.
The strength was so great she felt like her wrist bone was going to be crushed.
When had he come down??
Jiang Nuan struggled desperately, not daring to make a sound. She could only pull frantically, using her other hand to pry at his fingers.
It didn’t budge. That hand seemed forged onto her wrist, on an entirely different level of strength from hers.
Footsteps came again from deeper in the tunnel.
The man seemed to lose something — probably his patience.
Before Jiang Nuan could process what was happening, her vision spun. Her body was flipped over, then her waist was locked, the crook of her knee was hooked, and she was solidly placed over a broad shoulder.
Carried like a sack of potatoes.
It was absurd.
His hand rested on her lower back — cold, dry, with joints hard as iron. She could feel the outline of his knuckles even through the fabric of her clothes.
There was a smell of gunpowder on him, cold and sharp, mixed with a faint scent of soap.
Then he started running.
He was unbelievably fast. Having a full-grown adult on his shoulder seemed to affect him as much as carrying an extra backpack. His steps were rock steady.
Jiang Nuan was jostled roughly over his back, her internal organs shaking, only able to watch the tunnel behind them blur past in reverse.
He fired three more shots over his shoulder.
Three gunshots, three directions, three thuds of heavy bodies hitting the ground—so precise it was terrifying.
One of the shots had nailed the bulldozer man who got in the way. He’d been panicking and charging blindly, and just happened to be in the way.
Jiang Nuan caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye. She felt no sympathy at all—if anything, a flicker of satisfaction.
Okay, she knew gloating was wrong.
But come on, he’d shoved her earlier.
Right now, she was being carried on someone’s shoulder as that person sprinted. Her mind was running two completely contradictory thoughts at once.
First track: He’s amazing. Seriously amazing. How is this guy so good at fighting? Being hauled around like this and yet feeling safe—does that even make sense? And his shoulders—wow, so broad. Her face pressed against his back, and even through the tactical suit, she could feel the muscles on both sides of his spine rippling and contracting steadily as he ran. Rock steady.
Second track: This is bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, totally bad.
The second track won.
Jiang Nuan tried to mentally reassure herself:
I’m fine.
As soon as they’re out of the Exclusion Zone, she’d run. She already had a plan—melt into the crowd, find a chance to slip away. The world was big enough. She’d change cities, start over, never reveal her talent live like an ordinary person for the rest of her life.
She could do this.
She had to.
Ahead, light appeared.
The tunnel’s exit showed a gray, hazy opening, like an oval gap. The air began to clear, the stench of rotting things fading.
The man carrying her strode out of the tunnel in a few big steps.
Outside light flooded in, making Jiang Nuan squint.
Beyond the tunnel mouth was a vast, empty ruin of a square. The edge of the Zone’s barrier shimmered with a faint blue glow—that was the exit. Step past that blue line, and you’d cleared it. You’d be safe.
People were still stumbling out of the tunnel.
Jiang Nuan swept her gaze around, and her heart sank.
At least thirty people had entered the Zone. Now, standing here—counting herself—there were just six.
Someone was slumped on the ground crying. Someone else was bent over, retching dryly. A few were supporting each other, covered in blood.
A lanky, bespectacled guy looked up, spotted the insignia on the chest of the man carrying Jiang Nuan, and suddenly his voice shot up: “Zero… Zero Squad?!”
That sentence hit the air like a stone dropped into water. Everyone turned to stare.
“Is it Ye Que?” “Zero Squad is here…” “No wonder we made it out alive…”
Waves of post-survival relief spread like rising tide. Some people’s eyes were red. Others stammered thanks.
Jiang Nuan listened to every word, and each one stabbed into her heart like a nail.
Ye Que.
Zero Squad.
The highest executive authority in all global Exclusion Zones.
She flipped through the original Jiang Nuan’s memories. Did that name exist?
Yes—blurry, not much detail.
But one thing was very clear: Zero Squad was the highest-ranking team among all investigation units. They reported directly to the Supreme Command, unaccountable to any regional branch.
In other words, if this guy named Ye Que ever found out she was the Purifier, she wouldn’t even have anywhere to appeal.
The warmth of his breath still lingered on the back of her neck.
His shoulder was as unyielding as a moving mountain. But every second she was carried on that mountain, she was thinking: if that hand moved from holding her waist to her throat, she wouldn’t even have a chance to struggle.
Run.
She had to run.
Now that he’d stopped, his attention scattered among these surviving players, she needed to think fast.
Jiang Nuan shifted on his shoulder, forcing a smile that she hoped looked natural.
“Okay, okay, the hero-saving-the-damsel act is officially over,” she said, purposely keeping her tone light and easy, like joking with a friend. “You can put me down right here. I can walk on my own. Thanks.”
She thought her acting was pretty convincing. Relaxed. Natural. The casual tone of a random survivor who’d just crawled out of hell.
No response.
“Seriously, no need to bother—”
The fingers gripping her waist tightened.
The pressure shifted from firm to a warning.
Jiang Nuan’s smile froze on her face.
Ye Que didn’t even look at her.
He pulled a palm-sized black communicator from his combat suit’s pocket. With one hand, he pressed a side button and raised it to his lips.
Jiang Nuan was still on his shoulder, her face less than eight inches from that communicator. She heard every word.
“Target has been captured,” he said.
His voice had no inflection. Like reporting a routine job done.
“Returning now.”
The last trace of a smile on Jiang Nuan’s face completely shattered.
