"...What?"
Jiang Nuan's brain buzzed.
"She sold your whereabouts to us."
Ye Que said calmly.
"That's how I found you in the tunnel."
He paused. The bandaging was finished, the gauze tied in a knot, but his fingers lingered on that knot for just a half-beat longer.
"We also paid her for it," he finally said.
The rainwater still clinging to his hair slid down the side of his face and dripped onto his shoe, the sound faint yet clear.
The moment those words hit her ears, Jiang Nuan couldn't hear anything else.
All the sounds around her seemed to have been sucked out of the world, leaving only a sharp, buzzing white void.
The wound on her calf still throbbed.
Once, then again, slowly pulling her back from that emptiness.
And then, all the scattered clues were threaded together by an invisible line.
The piece she hadn't been able to figure out before: if Sister Zhou's money came from the Apocalypse Society, then why would they still kidnap her son?
Giving money and then taking the hostage meant redundant leverage—it didn't make sense.
Unless that money wasn't from the Apocalypse Society at all.
The wound in her calf throbbed, pulsing with pain, but the ache only sharpened her thoughts.
It was Zero Squad.
They needed her as a Purifier, but they couldn't act directly in the refugee zone—maybe rules, maybe caution, the reason didn't matter.
So they needed an informant.
And Sister Zhou needed money, a lot of it, to keep her dying son alive.
The deal was struck.
Sister Zhou handed over everything: which warehouse she stayed in, when she left, which route she took—every detail laid out.
That's how they had been able to ambush her in the tunnel on the one day she left the warehouse to find food.
Ye Que stood up, walked to the metal cabinet, and took a dry towel from the top.
He came back and dropped it onto her lap.
Jiang Nuan grabbed the towel and slowly dried her hair.
She forced herself to keep thinking.
What came next?
The Apocalypse Society came for her too.
They traced Sister Zhou's connection and, to force her cooperation, directly kidnapped her son.
That's why Sister Zhou had been crying so hard in the clinic.
She had gotten Zero Squad's money, but she was also firmly in the grip of the Apocalypse Society.
But she was loyal to no one.
She was only loyal to her dying son.
A deeper chill crept slowly up Jiang Nuan's spine.
The betrayal hadn't started today in the clinic. It had begun long ago.
Maybe it started with those meals slipped under the door.
Were those meals sincere, or just a way to confirm the occupant hadn't moved out?
A burning, painful surge pushed up from her chest.
It was anger.
Anger at being manipulated, anger at being played like a chess piece, anger at being treated like a commodity to be traded by everyone.
Jiang Nuan's fingers clenched around the towel, then, one by one, she let go.
Now was not the time for anger.
Ye Que knew her memory had issues, and he knew Sister Zhou was compromised.
In the clinic, he had even deliberately left what seemed like a gap for escape.
After witnessing his three-shot clean-up earlier, Jiang Nuan had utterly abandoned one ridiculous notion:
The clumsy tactics she had used in the clinic hadn't stopped him.
He had allowed her to "stop" him.
The wound on her calf throbbed again.
Then why hadn't he stopped her earlier? Why had he let Sister Zhou trick her into leaving, let her run off like a fool thinking she was clever?
There was only one answer.
Fishing.
Ye Que was using her as bait.
He let out the line on purpose, let the people behind think they had succeeded, let her be taken to that open ground. He wanted to draw out the mastermind.
And she, from start to finish, was just the chunk of meat on the hook.
A numbness spread through Jiang Nuan's fingertips.
She forced herself to think one last question.
Who had altered her memories?
If the Apocalypse Society had altered her memory, the man today wouldn't have known nothing about her. He had no idea about her memory gaps, didn't even know she had been recruited by Zero Squad.
If it was Zero Squad...
She instinctively glanced at Ye Que.
He was half-leaning against the metal cabinet, one hand resting on the barrel of his sniper rifle, the other unscrewing a bottle of water.
His stance was relaxed, like a predator who had just finished hunting.
She quickly looked away.
No. If they had altered her memory, there was no need to send her back to District C—a place full of old clues.
That left—
A third party.
Those three words landed in her mind like a stone plunging into deep water, the ripples spreading wider and wider.
There was a power she hadn't yet contacted, one that had opened her mind at some unknown point in time and changed certain things.
Then, like a processed product, they had left her where she was.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
She looked up.
She met Ye Que's gaze.
He had set down the water bottle without her noticing. Those dark, fathomless eyes locked onto her from across the dim light of the room.
Those eyes carried no extra expression, yet they conveyed a message more clearly than any words ever could.
【You can't trust anyone around you.】
【Except Zero Squad, you have nowhere to go.】
A thin layer of sweat formed on Jiang Nuan's palms.
She couldn't tell what was churning in her chest at that moment.
Was it the fear of a cage closing in, or the dangerous sense of security that came from being sheltered by a high wall in the middle of a storm?
She had no time to figure it out.
Just then, Ye Que suddenly tilted his head.
His gaze shifted from her face, turning toward the metal door.
In that instant, he transformed like a machine switched to combat mode—all unnecessary movements vanished.
His right hand silently reached for the sniper rifle at his side; his left hand made a gesture.
Silence.
Jiang Nuan instantly held her breath.
He shut off the overhead light, plunging the room into absolute darkness.
Then she heard it too.
Extremely faint footsteps outside the door.
At least three people.
They moved slowly, their spacing even—like a systematic room-to-room search.
The rain had suddenly let up just seconds ago.
All the ambient environmental noises that should have been there were gone.
An unnatural quiet hung in the air.
A sliver of light from outside the window outlined Ye Que's silhouette as he pressed against the wall and moved to the door. He melted his entire body into the shadow of the doorframe, the gun barrel angled slightly downward.
In the darkness, he looked at her.
Jiang Nuan couldn't read his expression.
But she understood.
Don't move. Don't make a sound.
The footsteps drew closer.
They were just outside the door.
Then—they stopped.
Ye Que pressed into the shadow of the doorway, blending completely into the darkness.
Jiang Nuan held her breath, her back tightened against the wall behind the bed.
The wound on her calf pulsed with pain; blood loss was making her head spin.
Silence.
So quiet she could hear the deliberate softness of her own breathing.
Then—
The shattering sound of glass exploded behind her, mixed with the night wind and rain bursting through the window.
A figure in black flipped in from the window, so fast it was barely a streak, charging straight at her.
A hand reached out right in front of her face.
Jiang Nuan's long-tense nerves and the constant life-and-death crises caused her body to react before her brain.
She abruptly raised her right hand.
The silver pistol Lu Shiyan had handed her had been tightly gripped in her palm all along; the cold, hard metal was her only source of support at this moment.
There was no time to aim.
Bang!
Thud!
Two muffled sounds overlapped almost at the same instant.
A tongue of flame spat from Jiang Nuan's muzzle. The bullet grazed the shadowy figure's shoulder, burrowed deep into the shoulder bone, and burst into a spray of blood.
The other gunshot was low and deep, fitted with a silencer—like a sigh in the dark night.
Ye Que had fired.
A blood hole appeared squarely in the center of the shadowy figure's forehead. His body stiffened for a moment, then toppled straight backward and crashed heavily onto the floor.
The footsteps outside the door instantly fell into disorder.
"They messed up over there! Bre—"
Before the words faded.
Ye Que had already moved. He hadn't even opened the door.
His dark gun barrel pressed slightly downward, aimed at the source of the sound beyond the iron door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three consecutive shots.
Each shot was followed by a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the floor from outside.
Three bullet holes pierced the iron door, letting in the faint light of the rainy night.
Jiang Nuan stared at those three holes, with only one thought left in her mind.
He fired through the door, unable to see anyone—just locating them by sound. Three shots, three hits.
Back at the clinic, what had she been thinking? That she could stop someone like him with such crude methods?
Ye Que stepped forward and kicked the bullet-riddled iron door open.
Three bodies lay outside.
Two were already dead, both with shots to the head.
The third, shot in the thigh, was dragging a blood-soaked leg, trying to crawl backward.
Ye Que walked over and kicked the weapon away from the man's hand. His other foot mercilessly stomped on the bullet wound in the man's thigh.
"Ahhh—" The man let out a scream, his body convulsing violently.
Ye Que bent down, his gaze as cold as looking at a lifeless object.
The next second, he suddenly grabbed the man's jaw, clamped his thumb and index finger together, and wrenched them in opposite directions.
Crack.
The sound of the jawbone dislocating was so clear it made one's scalp tingle.
Jiang Nuan's stomach twitched violently.
The man's mouth could no longer close. Its corners were stretched to an unnatural angle, saliva mixed with blood dribbling down.
He couldn't speak anymore.
But at least he couldn't bite his tongue.
Interrogation could wait.
Then Ye Que stopped moving.
Jiang Nuan dragged her injured leg to the doorway, just in time to see Ye Que's gloved fingers retrieve something from the man's mouth.
A small black pill.
Tucked between the back molar and the gum.
But it was too late.
The man's pupils were already beginning to dilate. What dripped from the corners of his mouth was no longer just blood, but a black liquid with a strange odor.
Foam surged from deep in his throat, mixed with bloody froth, spilling out mouthful after mouthful.
The poison had already taken effect.
Ye Que had dislocated his jaw, but the man had already bitten through the poison sac.
Ye Que slowly released his grip and let out a cold snort.
"This poison again. Apocalypse Society."
The corpse slid limply to the floor.
The corridor reeked of a bitter smell, mixed with a heavy stench of blood.
Jiang Nuan leaned against the wall, staring at the bodies on the ground. A chill crawled up from the marrow of her bones, climbing up her spine joint by joint.
She had already witnessed Ye Que's strength, but what truly terrified her were these attackers.
Without hesitation, they bit through the poison sac to kill themselves once caught.
What kind of organization could make its people go to such lengths?
Ye Que stood up.
He glanced down at the bodies on the floor and furrowed his brow.
"Troublesome."
Then he turned and walked toward Jiang Nuan.
Before Jiang Nuan could react, her body suddenly lifted into the air.
Ye Que had scooped her up in his arms.
"My leg can already—"
"Shut up."
Jiang Nuan wisely closed her mouth.
The rain outside was still falling, but much lighter.
Ye Que carried her like a black panther moving through the night, avoiding all main roads, weaving quickly through the intricate ruins and narrow alleys of Sector C.
Jiang Nuan pressed against his chest, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat, smelling the smokiness of gunpowder and the cold, sharp scent of rain on him.
An intensely conflicting emotion surged within her.
Extremely dangerous, yet extremely safe.
Those two words shouldn't exist together, but on Ye Que, they coexisted strangely.
After about twenty minutes, they crossed a half-collapsed skybridge and finally stopped in front of an old residential building that hadn't been too badly corroded by the restricted zone.
Ye Que kicked open a deformed fire door; the lock core shot straight out and clattered against the opposite wall.
Inside was a modest suite—originally an ordinary family's home. The living room and bedroom were connected, furnished with old but complete items.
A sofa, a table, a double bed. On the windowsill, there was even a dusty little cute ornament.
It was as if an entire pre-apocalypse family had suddenly been pulled away, leaving only these silent objects behind.
Ye Que laid Jiang Nuan down on the bed.
The mattress was soft, the springs a bit collapsed, sinking into a dip.
When his hand slid out from under the crook of her knee, his fingertips brushed against the edge of the bandage wrapped around her calf.
Ye Que stood by the bed.
His tall figure blocked the dim light filtering in through the window, casting her entirely in shadow.
