She clenched her jaw, and cold sweat instantly broke out on her forehead. The hand gripping the gun trembled from excruciating pain, but the muzzle still stubbornly pointed ahead.
She pulled the trigger again.
The man's figure appeared on her right.
Another miss.
"Stop playing around," he said with a helpless shake of his head, then instructed someone nearby, "Take her to the car."
The black-clad gunman holstered his weapon and strode toward Jiang Nuan.
Just then, Sister Zhou, who had been slumped on the ground, suddenly lunged forward like a madwoman, spreading her arms wide to block the path between the gunman and Jiang Nuan.
"I brought her here!" her voice shrilled and trembled, her face twisted. "Where's my son?! You promised me!"
The man held an umbrella, looking down at her from his height with a light chuckle.
"What's the rush? Once she comes back with us, your son will return on his own."
"I don't believe you!" Sister Zhou shrieked.
She spun around suddenly. A dagger had appeared in her hand—a short blade glistening with raindrops—which she pressed against Jiang Nuan's throat.
The cold metal touched her skin.
"Bring my son to me. Now. Right this instant."
Sister Zhou's hand shook, the blade quivering against Jiang Nuan's neck.
"Or I'll kill her. Then none of you will get what you want."
The man raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Are you sure?" He glanced at Sister Zhou, then at Jiang Nuan with the blade at her throat, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement.
Then—
A minuscule, almost imperceptible red dot pierced the heavy curtain of rain, landing silently on Sister Zhou's forehead.
Jiang Nuan's pupils dilated sharply.
Before she could react.
"Bang."
The gunshot came from far away.
So distant it was nearly swallowed by the rain, leaving only a dull, heavy echo.
But the bullet arrived faster than the sound.
A powerful gust of wind brushed past Jiang Nuan's cheek.
Then warm liquid splattered across her face.
The thick scent of blood instantly overpowered the earthy smell of rain.
The pressure of the dagger against her neck vanished abruptly.
Jiang Nuan turned her head slowly.
Sister Zhou's eyes were wide open.
A perfect bullet hole was embedded in her forehead—clean and precise, with barely any blood yet leaking out.
Her expression was frozen somewhere between shock and resentment, her lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something.
Then she fell backward.
Her head hit the rubble, splashing up a spray of water.
The dagger slipped from her hand, bounced twice on the ground, and lay still.
Sister Zhou's eyes remained open.
Rain fell into her eye sockets.
Jiang Nuan stared at Sister Zhou's body.
Tear marks were still visible on her face.
The woman who used to bring food for the original owner, food dragged under the door.
Jiang Nuan looked into those unseeing eyes, and her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.
Goodwill and betrayal—with this body cooling down, they were now completely settled.
The man in the black trench coat's expression changed drastically.
For the first time, fear appeared on his face.
"Ye Que!"
He barked in a low, sharp tone, "Defense!"
The black-clad men on either side reacted instantly. Almost the moment his words landed, they thrust both hands forward.
The air in front of them warped slightly, and two faint, translucent arc-shaped barriers materialized like enormous shields, flanking and protecting the man in the black trench coat.
Defense-type abilities.
The second gunshot arrived.
"Bang."
The bullet struck the center of the left barrier with precision.
A web of cracks exploded across the barrier's surface. The black-clad man's body slid half a step backward, his arms emitting the grinding sound of compressed bones.
Almost simultaneously, the third gunshot rang out.
It hit the exact same spot.
The cracks spread from the center outward, and the entire barrier shattered like broken ice.
The bullet tore through the shattered barrier, pierced the chest of the black-clad man, and burst out in a cloud of thick, bloody mist.
What was terrifying was that the bullet's momentum barely slowed. With savage remaining kinetic energy, it bored straight through the air and slammed into the back of another black-clad man behind him, punching clean through his chest.
Neither man had time to react. Shock and disbelief flooded their eyes before they both went limp, collapsing to the ground, lifeless.
No more than ten seconds had passed.
Two defense-type ability users. Three bullets. All dead.
The man in the black trench coat stood between the two corpses. Raindrops streaked down his face. His lips were pressed tight as his gaze swept wildly over the surrounding ruins of buildings.
Half-collapsed structures, exposed steel bars, broken window frames—any corner could hide that reaper.
He didn't know where Ye Que was.
No one knew where Ye Que was.
Those bullets seemed to emerge from thin air, each one precise to a chilling degree.
His eyes landed on Jiang Nuan.
Jiang Nuan sat on the ground, her right hand still gripping the silver pistol, blood seeping from the wound on her calf. The blood on her face had been streaked into rivulets by the rain.
The man in the black trench coat made a decision.
He lunged toward Jiang Nuan.
He moved at incredible speed, his figure flickering mid-charge like a short-distance teleportation, covering the distance of three paces in one step.
His hand was already outstretched, his fingertips about to touch Jiang Nuan's shoulder.
If he caught her—
A thought flashed through Jiang Nuan's mind: he had teleportation abilities. If he touched her, he might teleport her somewhere else.
In that instant, a strange and desperate conflict stirred deep inside her.
She realized she didn't know whether she should fear the Apocalypse Society standing before her, or fear falling into the hands of Ye Que and Zero Squad again.
Because of that momentary hesitation, she was too late to pull the trigger.
Just before his hand touched her, the man's expression twisted violently.
His body twisted midair in an arc.
It was a movement that completely defied inertia, as if an invisible rope had yanked him sideways. His torso veered off course, his reaching hand withdrew, and his entire form shifted half a meter to the side.
"Thump."
A bullet tore through his right shoulder, ripping away a chunk of flesh.
If he hadn't changed direction, that bullet would have pierced his heart.
Pale-faced, the man clutched his right shoulder, blood gushing between his fingers.
His eyes locked onto a half-collapsed residential building to the northwest of the clearing. He couldn't see anything there.
But he knew that person was there.
Zero Squad. Ye Que.
Dread. Fear. Rage.
With bitter resentment, the man glared one last time at Jiang Nuan on the ground, then back at the residential building. He ground out through gritted teeth, "We'll see about this."
Then his figure flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Three short-range teleportations, each accompanied by a sharp change in direction—left, right, forward, backward—making it impossible to predict his next landing point.
He was gambling.
Gambling that Ye Que couldn't lock onto him in time.
On the final flicker, his silhouette vanished into the shadows of a narrow alley to the west of the clearing.
Gone completely.
Between heaven and earth, the silence was restored, broken only by the sound of rain.
The heavy rain relentlessly washed over the clearing.
Jiang Nuan sat dazed in the muddy water, her fingers still clenched tightly around the pistol she had never had the chance to fire.
Around her lay three bodies.
Sister Zhou's eyes, wide open even in death, reflected the gray sky with a lifeless stare.
The blood, diluted by the rain, gathered into little red streams across the ground, trickling past Jiang Nuan's fingertips.
She hadn't escaped.
From the very beginning, she had never slipped out of that man's sight.
This self-deceived flight, in that man's eyes, had probably been nothing more than a clumsy game of cat and mouse—a way to flush out the forces behind her.
The sound of steady footsteps, splashing through the puddles, slowly approached from behind her.
"Tap."
"Tap."
Each step seemed to press down on Jiang Nuan's frayed nerves.
The footsteps stopped half a meter away from her.
A tall, slender silhouette blocked the rain falling from above, casting her entirely in shadow.
Jiang Nuan lifted her head stiffly.
Ye Que stood before her.
He was still wearing the same black form-fitting outfit, rainwater sliding down his cheeks. In his hand, he held that pitch-black sniper rifle, its barrel still emitting faint white steam and the scent of heat in the rain.
Those eyes, as deep as an abyss, looked down at her from on high.
There was no anger, no mockery.
Only a suffocating calm—a calm belonging to the apex predator.
"Had your fun?"
Ye Que spoke.
His voice was deep, hoarse, yet terrifyingly clear above the sound of the rain.
The tone was completely different from the way that man from the Apocalypse Society had uttered the same words earlier.
In Ye Que's voice, there was no indulgence. Only absolute control and cold judgment.
Jiang Nuan's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
Blood flowed from the wound on her calf, and the blood on her face grew cold.
She watched as Ye Que slowly crouched down, dropping to one knee in the blood-soaked, muddy ground.
He reached out a hand, clad in a black tactical glove, and pressed his cold fingertips against her bloodstained cheek. With a touch that was almost gentle, he wiped the blood from her face, bit by bit.
Then, his fingers stopped at the corner of her lips.
"Why don't you keep running?"
