Xu Jie and the others led a team underwater to search the ruins of the research institute. The live footage should have been transmitted back to the temporary command post—namely, the small hut Xu Jie and Jiang Liu had cleared out earlier by the coast.
But this time, Xu Jie told Xing Bi to watch it from the medical vehicle instead.
“How did it end up in the medical vehicle?” Qiu Shi asked. “Don’t tell me Lin Sheng’s that badly injured and still wants to watch?”
“What do you think?” Xing Bi said. “You think the doctor wants to see it?”
“Did you not insult him hard enough earlier?” Qiu Shi asked.
“I didn’t insult you at all. You upset I didn’t?” Xing Bi shot back.
“You bioroids can bicker all you want, just don’t hurt us weak little humans,” Qiu Shi said.
“He’s definitely going to watch,” Xing Bi sighed. “If Xu Jie’s gone underwater, then besides the temporary commander, only he can make decisions up here.”
“What about you?” Qiu Shi asked.
“I’m done with all that,” Xing Bi replied. “The two of us are now just idle members of society.”
“That’s an old-timer’s term,” Qiu Shi said. “In our world, we call people like us refugees, or drifters.”
Xing Bi smiled and glanced at him.
“But I’ve got a profession,” Qiu Shi added. “I’m a corpse collector. Director Li just temporarily conscripted me.”
“Then I’m your bodyguard,” said Xing Bi.
“Whoa,” Qiu Shi chuckled. “Only in Yun City could you see a corpse collector with a personal bodyguard.”
“What, a corpse collector can’t have a bodyguard?” Xing Bi said.
“You’re just biased ‘cause your boyfriend is a corpse collector,” Qiu Shi retorted. “You’re an Anchor, after all.”
“It’s because of people like you,” Xing Bi draped an arm around his shoulder, “that some places in this world can still be called a Peach Blossom Spring.”
“Did you turn off team comms?” Qiu Shi asked. “You’re being disgustingly mushy.”
“They’re off,” Xing Bi replied.
Outside the medical vehicle stood Xu Jie and a few bioroids who were ready to dive. Two soldiers were adjusting the receiving equipment beside the vehicle.
“Be careful,” Xing Bi said. “The collapsed building structure is unstable. There could be secondary cave-ins at any time. Make sure enclosed spaces are secure before entering.”
“Mm.” Xu Jie nodded.
“You brought enough gear?” Xing Bi asked.
“All set,” Xu Jie said. “If we find that box, we’ll destroy it on-site immediately.”
“Nothing related can be brought to the surface. Destroy it where you find it. Make sure it’s reduced to scrap.” Xing Bi emphasized.
“Reduced to scrap. Got it.” Xu Jie smiled at him and repeated the instruction.
“Go on.” Xing Bi gave his shoulder a pat and glanced at the axe strapped to Sang Fan’s back.
“Let her take it,” Feng Zhi said. “It’s her real body.”
“I don’t feel safe without it,” Sang Fan added.
“Move out,” Xing Bi tilted his head.
Xu Jie led the team toward the speedboats parked by the shore.
“Where the hell did that axe come from?” Xing Bi asked, watching them leave. “You got it for her? Corpse collector?”
“Wasn’t me. No clue where it came from,” Qiu Shi said. “Might’ve picked it up while washing horses.”
Xing Bi leaned into the doorway and looked into the vehicle. Lin Sheng, still hooked up to tubes, was already sitting up on the medical bed. Bai Zhan sat beside him.
“The ‘Willpower Warriors,’ huh?” Xing Bi said.
“Well, someone has to command,” Bai Zhan replied. “They won’t let me go down. If I went, Xu Jie could stay here and command.”
“You talk too much,” Xing Bi stepped onto the vehicle and glanced at Lin Sheng. “You planning a power grab now, Sheng? I’m still here, and you’re already gunning for command?”
“Be quiet a moment,” Lin Sheng said, looking at Bai Zhan.
Bai Zhan fell silent.
“Can your neck handle vertical strain?” Xing Bi asked, eyeing the multiple tubes stuck in Lin Sheng’s neck. “Should we mount the monitor on the roof so you can lie down while commanding?”
“…Spare me,” Lin Sheng muttered.
Xing Bi gave him another once-over before sitting down.
Qiu Shi took the seat beside Bai Zhan.
“You scared to sit next to him?” Bai Zhan leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs.
“Years with drifters weren’t for nothing. I’ve mastered the art of thrill-seeking,” Qiu Shi said.
“Fuck off,” Bai Zhan muttered.
The monitor lit up, showing Xu Jie’s team. Each member had a camera.
The soldiers outside came in and checked the screen. “All good. Transmission stable.”
“Any lag?” Xing Bi asked.
“Negligible,” one of them replied.
“Mm.” Xing Bi nodded.
The teams split into three and boarded their respective speedboats.
As the boats cruised toward the ruins, Xu Jie looked around, giving the onshore team a clear view of the environment.
“There are quite a few drifters in the water,” Xu Jie said. “But they can’t dive very deep…”
Suddenly, a rope shot out of the water and hooked onto the back of the boat.
Sang Fan raised her axe, but Ji Sui stopped her with a hand. “It’s okay. Just a drifter.”
“Drifter,” Bai Zhan echoed alongside Ji Sui, both leaning slightly toward the monitor.
Qiu Shi could tell Bai Zhan, despite calling drifters crazy, knew them better than anyone after all these years—there was real affection there.
Sure enough, the rope pulled taut, and a drifter burst from the sea behind the boat, gripping the line and skimming the surface while shrieking with glee.
“Shouldn’t they be using a board?” Qiu Shi recalled the drifters who’d joined them on a previous dive—barefoot, but gliding over the water like surfers.
“No need,” Bai Zhan said. “It’s fun.”
The drifter, as if proving his point, used the waves to launch into the air, flipped twice midair, then landed—no, butt-slammed—onto the water, bounced back up, and continued sliding across the surface barefoot.
“Okay, that does look fun,” Qiu Shi admitted. Probably one of those games the ancestors left behind.
The water was still far from calm—after all, it was a massive structure breaking apart and sinking. It would take days for things to settle.
But for well-equipped bioroids, this level of instability was nothing.
Once the three boats reached their dive coordinates, they stopped and soon disappeared beneath the surface.
The search teams split into three directions and dove down. The water below was much murkier than when Qiu Shi had first dived in, with debris swirling across the screens.
Everyone descended with a clear objective.
At first, you could still spot drifters darting through the water. But gradually, only the dim ocean remained.
As the ruins of the research institute slowly came into view at the seafloor, Qiu Shi saw how thoroughly the structure had come apart.
It had collapsed completely. The outer shell had shattered into countless fragments, and steel rods and plates jutted out from the breakpoints like fractured bones piercing through skin after a traumatic injury.
It was clear that when the institute was built, they’d anticipated the possibility of having to destroy it one day—and had prepared to obliterate it completely.
It was impossible not to feel regret. Even someone like Qiu Shi—half-illiterate and supposed to return to school in Yun City—felt the loss. The architects who’d designed it and the tech experts from Yun City watching this place disappear… they must be heartbroken.
“What a waste… such a waste…”
When Li Feng walked into the lab, he heard Curator Wu’s voice—shaky with grief.
“Come on, I’ll drink with you. Drown your sorrow a bit,” Li Feng offered.
“No drinking in the lab!” Curator Wu immediately changed tone. “No drinking during work hours!”
“Then go on and cry,” Li Feng said, sitting beside the table.
“I’m not crying—I’m lamenting,” Curator Wu walked over. “Did you do that on purpose? That mess at the institute, you could’ve just summarized it for me. Why’d you send me a full video?”
“That’s Xu Jie’s search footage. It’s not a disaster reel,” Li Feng said. “We sent it to you as a warning.”
“A warning for what?” Curator Wu stared at him.
“Back then, humans possessed technology far beyond our reach,” Li Feng said. “But they were also fully prepared to destroy that technology. The shell that holds this technology is essentially a shredder capable of obliterating everything at any time.”
Curator Wu remained silent.
“You need to learn fear, Lao Wu,” Li Feng said.
Curator Wu didn’t respond. After a while, he finally sat down across from him.
Breaking the silence, Li Feng asked, “So, what did you come to see me for?”
“Qu Shen and his team found some information related to the fungus. I reported this to you earlier,” Curator Wu said.
“Mm.” Li Feng nodded. “Any progress?”
“Wang Hong’s team conducted experiments using a piece of skin collected from Zheng Ting…” At this point, Curator Wu noticed Li Feng’s expression shift and quickly added, “It was done strictly under my lab’s supervision.”
“Just tell me. We’ll go through the protocols later.” Li Feng said.
“After a few days of observation,” Curator Wu explained, “we’ve confirmed that we can halt the fungus’s reproduction and accelerate its growth cycle. Once the existing fungus dies, no new growth appears…”
“So basically, cut off its lineage. Once the living ones die, that’s it,” Li Feng summarized.
“Exactly,” Wu confirmed. “But as for the damage already caused by the fungus—whether it can be repaired and how—that’ll require…”
“Get some symbionts,” Li Feng interrupted. “Didn’t we have some return from Site 249? Use them for testing.”
“Alright.” Curator Wu’s eyes lit up.
“Only if they volunteer,” Li Feng leaned in and stared at him. “Old Wu, learn to be afraid.”
Curator Wu frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Li Feng replied. “Participation must be voluntary, and they must be fully informed in advance about what you’re doing. At this critical moment, don’t stir up conflict between humans and Bioroids.”
“I know!” Curator Wu said irritably. “You never trust me!”
“I do trust you. But I don’t trust the people you might trust,” Li Feng said. “So I need you to understand—if something goes wrong, you can choose to die. But I’ll be the one left behind to suffer for it.”
Curator Wu didn’t reply. After a pause, he seemed to be deep in thought before frowning and asking, “Why do I have to be the one to die?”
“Someone has to take the fall,” Li Feng narrowed his eyes.
“Li Feng,” Wu looked at him and, after a long pause, finally waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it. I get it.”
“I actually came to find you for something, too,” Li Feng said. “In the next couple of days, some people will be returning to Yun City. Besides Lin Sheng and Bai Zhan, who require urgent care, there will also be a group of Bioroids.”
“Yeah, I heard from Chen Dang,” Curator Wu said. “A lot of them have been out there for years. Their systems are damaged, some have physical injuries too.”
“Exactly,” Li Feng nodded. “Song Heng has already put together a list. Take a look and prepare accordingly—medicines, equipment, everything.”
“I heard the base has a few decent machines. Better than ours?” Wu asked.
“Yeah,” Li Feng confirmed. “Review the cases first. Those who need those machines will be transferred over. But even that facility needs to be cleaned up and organized. And they can’t go directly—Yun City has to send them.”
“Does that really make a difference? Seems like a waste of time,” Wu frowned.
“It makes a difference.” Li Feng stood up. “I’m leaving.”
“Take some meds with you.” Wu got up and brought out a small medical kit from a refrigerated cabinet.
“Upgraded stimulants?” Li Feng asked, accepting the box.
“Not stimulants. These are to boost immunity and balance your body,” Wu said. “You can’t always rely on stimulants—you’re burning yourself out.”
“No thanks.” Li Feng tossed the box onto the table and headed for the door.
“If you drop dead, I’ll dig out your brain and put it next to the General’s.” Wu said.
Li Feng turned back, picked up the box, and left the lab.
Yun City had already changed significantly. All the billboards on the streets and in the mountains had been replaced with new slogans: Unity Under Heaven, Friendship Between Humans and Bioroids, Welcome to Peach Blossom Spring, A Bright Tomorrow Awaits…
There were more pedestrians than usual. Li Feng had taken another trip to the outer city yesterday—refugees were still refugees, and their numbers had grown. It still didn’t compare to the inner city, but order seemed to have returned. It no longer felt like a temporary holding pen for death.
Xiao Lei and Zhang Sihai were working well together. Management was keeping up.
Li Feng sat in the car, frowning as he looked at the data projected in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” Chen Dang asked. “The city’s lively and festive—why the long face, Director Li?”
“The people singing and dancing aren’t the ones running backstage,” Li Feng replied. “We’re low on resources. Production’s ramping up, but the investment is huge. Returns won’t show for at least six months. We need to survive until then.”
“Any solutions?” Chen Dang asked.
“Desperate ones.” Li Feng said and connected a call to Zhang Qifeng.
“Director Li. What is it?” Zhang Qifeng’s voice came through.
“I need two teams. Meet me at the west tunnel in two hours,” Li Feng said. “Keep it confidential.”
“What for? We’re already short-staffed,” Zhang said. “You want rookies or veterans? Makes a difference.”
“Veterans. This isn’t official business.” Li Feng said.
“Got it.” Zhang agreed without asking more and hung up.
“Zhang Qifeng actually learned to use his brain,” Li Feng remarked, then pressed a button on the intercom. “Head to the Mining Corporation HQ.”
“Going to see Mr. Long?” Chen Dang asked.
“Yeah,” Li Feng nodded. “We start the robbery with him.”
“Huh?” Chen Dang tilted his head.
“Sweep the city’s private warehouses,” Li Feng said. “Scrape off some fat from the rich, and we’ll last another half year.”
“…Will they even let you touch their private stores?” Chen Dang asked. “They’re all hidden.”
“I know where they are. What’s inside too,” Li Feng said. “The Welfare Bureau’s been supporting them for years. Time they give back.”
Chen Dang looked at him silently.
“What?” Li Feng glanced at him.
“If I had known Yun City would fall into your hands,” Chen Dang said, “I wouldn’t have gone to Donglin. I’d have come straight here.”
“Not necessarily. It all came together by chance,” Li Feng rubbed his brow. “Who doesn’t want to stay at the Welfare Bureau—no stress, good food, no pressure?”
Mr. Long’s office hadn’t changed at all—still grand, heavily guarded, and befitting the head of a city.
To ordinary people, Mr. Long and the General were still the top leaders of Yun City.
Li Feng went through the full security check before entering the office.
“You’ve lost weight,” Mr. Long said, glancing at him.
“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Li Feng sat across from his desk. “Did you read the report we submitted?”
“I did,” Mr. Long nodded, looking at him. “Bold moves. Most people wouldn’t have that kind of nerve.”
“You flatter me,” Li Feng replied.
“So, what brings you here? Normally you wouldn’t even step through this door unless absolutely necessary.”
“Yun City has invested heavily in recent expansions and battles, and more investments are coming,” Li Feng said. “Production can’t keep up with consumption for now.”
Mr. Long smiled—a bitter, helpless one.
“I hope you’ll lead by example and contribute to Yun City,” Li Feng said.
“You don’t really need my permission to do what you’re going to do,” Mr. Long said.
“I still need to ask. You’re Yun City’s only true pillar.” Li Feng said.
Mr. Long froze for a moment, then looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“After our team returns,” Li Feng said, “the General will be officially reported as having passed away.”
Mr. Long’s expression twitched. He repeated the words as if in disbelief: “What do you mean?”
“For the future peace of Yun City,” Li Feng said, “the General’s brain will be destroyed.”
