Chapter Fifty-Three: Passing By

Chu Chaoyan took a small, exquisite device from her pocket. The mechanical spider leapt back onto her wrist, transforming once more into an unremarkable wristwatch. Adjusting the side dial, she projected a miniature screen before her eyes. After entering her password, she began running simulation calculations. Once finished, she took out a packet of gel, reminiscent of chewing gum.

Donning gloves, she tore off a piece and weighed it on her watch, much like a scientist fine-tuning a dose. Carefully, she adjusted the mass to match her calculations, a process that didn’t last long. Once completed, she pressed the gel against the wall where she had previously detected an anomaly.

The amount was precisely calculated—enough to blow up the room, but not harm any passersby.

When everything was ready, she entered a command into her watch.

At that moment, Vladimir, who was busy disciplining members of the Hunters’ Black House, suddenly heard a “beep-beep” from his body. Alarmed, he found a grain-sized tracker on himself.

Furious, Vladimir crushed the device, like a dragon discovering its treasure stolen, and stormed toward the hidden cave.

Chu Chaoyan’s steps were brisk; she was still well within her planned timeline. Everything was seamless—perfectly orchestrated.

As she rounded a street corner, she brushed past a man—Vladimir himself.

Vladimir turned, stunned, to glance at Chu Chaoyan’s departing silhouette—he hadn’t sensed her presence at all.

He didn’t dwell on it, turning his attention back to the nearby alley.

Entering through a hidden door, he twisted the table lamp, revealing a secret compartment in the wall. Inside stood a strange statue, about a meter tall, with a lion’s head and a worm’s body, staring menacingly at Vladimir. Yet he felt no fear; he bent down and softly intoned, “Desire is the measure of all things. Do not be bound by the reins of morality. Do as you wish, to whom you wish.”

As he finished the prayer, he spotted a glob of gel on the floor, resembling chewing gum.

Chu Chaoyan watched her watch until the red dot on the screen stabilized. She then calmly brought up the detonation interface and tapped it. An explosion sounded nearby. If her calculations were correct, Vladimir would have already opened the secret chamber in the wall—the small plastic bomb would send the entire room skyward.

The statue was nothing more than a tangible idol for the Cult of Flesh’s inner sanctum. Whether reclaimed or blown to dust, it mattered little to Chu Chaoyan.

What drove her to risk everything was neither money nor glory, but something purer—hatred, a hatred ingrained against the Cult of Flesh.

Yet she had underestimated the physical resilience of the cultists.

After the explosion, a dust-covered hand pushed aside the rubble. Vladimir stood up, his skin mottled in the tunnel’s dim light, necrotic gray-black streaks winding around his body, crimson dust swirling in the air.

Kremlin Milos Hotel.

Ji Ning and his companions were packing up, preparing to leave, when they ran into Leonid Sidorov in the lobby. He was there to fabricate some false intelligence, hoping to expand his operation area to include the Surgical Hospital. Who could stand living with a bomb in their belly?

As Leonid Sidorov was righteously spinning his lies, he spotted Chu Chaoyan returning triumphant.

Ji Ning was about to ask why he’d stopped when Zhao Tianxing, already following Sidorov’s gaze, saw a woman dressed as a tourist dashing out the main door.

As Zhao Tianxing turned, Katherine and the others quickly caught on. Afra’s eyes lit up and she was about to shout for someone to catch her, but Qin Mo swiftly covered Afra’s mouth.

Chu Chaoyan, seeing Sidorov in that instant, realized her predicament. Yet she couldn’t fathom how they’d found her—the room she’d booked had only just been reserved, she hadn’t even brought her luggage, intending only to shower and rest before her return flight. How did they track her here?

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Despite her lingering doubts, her steps didn’t falter as she ran out the door.

Fate, ever fond of irony, had staged a coincidence. During the peak travel season, every hotel room was in high demand—the room she booked was one the Seekers of the Forgotten had just vacated.

Without hesitation, Zhao Tianxing and Ji Ning gave chase, and an unprepared pursuit unfolded.

She moved swiftly, weaving into the crowd. Using the cover of bodies, she pulled sunglasses from her coat, tied her long hair into a single ponytail, and lowered her profile.

This childish disguise couldn’t fool her pursuers; the Deer Academy prided itself on raising its students to be world-class bloodhounds—tracking and counter-tracking were required courses. Yet Chu Chaoyan’s route displayed an almost bewildering skill. The bustling crowd created a perfect labyrinth for her escape.

The usually clear streets were now shrouded in mist. Ji Ning felt like a compass-less ship adrift in a boundless ocean. Water everywhere, nothing but blue.

He’d lost sight of his prey; his only guide was the senior ahead. Ji Ning stuck closely behind Zhao Tianxing, thinking he was merely there to bolster the numbers. If he were to confront her, would he even dare? He hadn’t forgotten this world was full of anomalies.

Zhao Tianxing, completely focused, paid no mind to his timid junior’s calculations. Even he struggled to keep up, for it seemed the woman knew every detail of the road ahead—she always crossed traffic at precisely the right moment, closing the gap in speed.

The tense chase changed when Chu Chaoyan slipped into an underground parking garage. Zhao Tianxing saw her dive into a red Lada Niva, the engine roaring as the metal beast charged straight at him. He had to dodge aside.

A dazzling curve left a long black skid mark on the ground. As she slowed to turn, she collided with the arriving Ji Ning. In his view, all he saw were the orange-yellow headlights bearing down, but before he felt any pain, SCP-CN-655 had already liquefied him into a slime form.

“Get in through the window.”

“What?”

Ji Ning hadn’t processed the situation, but his body instinctively obeyed SCP-CN-655’s command. As he squeezed half his body into the car, SCP-CN-655 abruptly went silent, like a power outage—not an illusion; Ji Ning sensed their psychic connection snap. He had no time to question it, for with the connection gone, he reverted from slime form—half in the car, legs dangling outside.

The car had never intended to hit him. The driver was surprised—her calculations should have left five centimeters of margin. How did she collide with someone?

Still, she pressed on. The Lada Niva, red as lightning in the night.

“Stop the car! You’ll kill someone!” Ji Ning shouted, but the woman at the wheel was utterly unmoved, pressing the accelerator even harder, as if driving a heavily insured semi-truck hunting prey on the highway.

Once the car hit top speed, Chu Chaoyan glanced at the rearview mirror, then abruptly turned and braked. Ji Ning was nearly thrown fully into the car by inertia, but he’d wrapped the seatbelt around his left arm in time. Aside from a dislocated arm, he was mostly unharmed.

Pain and anger drove Ji Ning to crawl into the back seat. Without pity, he swung a right hook at Chu Chaoyan in the driver’s seat. Expecting it, she dodged easily, and stomped the accelerator again, sending Ji Ning rolling backward, his dislocated arm crashing into the seat, pain contorting his face.

As she fastened her seatbelt, Chu Chaoyan reminded him, “Hold your head with both hands.”

Ji Ning hadn’t time to react, but he noticed something odd outside—the street appeared to have columns. Only then did he realize Chu Chaoyan was driving the SUV straight into the subway entrance. The thunderous roar scattered the few midnight passengers.

Chu Chaoyan pushed the lever, ramming the SUV into the subway doors at an angle. Using brute force, she twisted the car, and her “Asimov Enforcer” fired several shots, breaking passenger handrails. Like a crusher, she forced the vehicle into a stationary subway carriage.

Even with her warning, the impact left Ji Ning dizzy, drained by pain as if struck by a charging rhino—his senses dulled, stars swimming in his vision. He watched as Chu Chaoyan unfastened her seatbelt, stepped out, glanced at the smoking hood—the smell of fuel clinging like a leech.

She paused, then opened the SUV’s rear door, nonchalantly donned her hood and sunglasses. “Get out quickly. It might explode.”

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After warning Ji Ning, she vanished into the depths of the subway tunnel.

Ji Ning staggered out, immediately spotting the smoking hood. Heart pounding, he scrambled some distance away.

Hiding behind a pillar, he finally relaxed, certain that even if the car exploded, he’d be safe. Only then did the pain, suppressed by survival instinct, hit him and he began to groan.

He was just a weakling—why risk his life with these maniacs? If he failed his mission, so be it. Why put his life on the line? Aside from Qin Mo, his empty life held nothing worth protecting. Next time, he’d stop dreaming of being a hero saving the day—better to hide behind his senior and bark when victory was assured.

Soon enough, Zhao Tianxing followed the cries and retrieved his weakling junior before the subway staff arrived. Carrying Ji Ning back to the rest of the Seekers of the Forgotten, everyone knew the accidental game of cat and mouse was over—the outcome decided.

Ji Ning admitted defeat, but the Seekers of the Forgotten weren’t ready to give up yet.

No time to despair; Zhao Tianxing took his junior back to the hotel and immediately had Katherine begin hacking street cameras, searching for the woman’s trail.

The footage froze at the instant she passed Vladimir. Zhao Tianxing frowned, tapping the brown pine table. The chattering deer students fell silent.

“Any footage from before they met?”

“The cameras were damaged after the explosion in the area; we can’t access footage from a few minutes before their encounter,” Katherine replied thoughtfully, already forming a hypothesis.

“We can’t be sure the woman’s target was the same statue we’re after. The Cult of Flesh isn’t exactly a peace-loving society; all supernatural organizations seek these artifacts. She probably isn’t part of any evil group and didn’t seem intent on hurting me—perhaps she only wanted to use us to draw out Vladimir. The explosion shows she and Vladimir are adversaries.” Most supernatural beings treat human lives as expendable—even their own kind.

Though she left Ji Ning battered, she at least opened the car door, letting him stagger away from the potentially explosive vehicle. She could have done otherwise—at least this showed she was not without kindness.

“So the statue may still be in Vladimir’s hands. Our mission isn’t over yet?” Afra’s eyes lit up—no one wanted their first team mission to end in failure.

“That’s possible,” Katherine said, enlarging Vladimir’s figure on the screen, searching for more clues.

Zhao Tianxing was about to speak, but seeing the hopeful faces of his juniors, he pressed his lips shut. He’d already done more than his authority allowed, so he tossed the decision to them.

“You decide. By regulation, I can’t do anything further.” He paused, adding, “This is your training. In future, no one will tell you what to do.”

The four debated, ultimately choosing to vote.

“All in favor of continuing the mission, raise your hand.”

Ji Ning and Afra raised their hands simultaneously. Qin Mo hesitated, then raised hers as well. “If it gets too dangerous, we must stop immediately.”

“Of course. Just one last search before tomorrow’s flight—if it doesn’t work, we’ll leave.” Ji Ning nodded, looking to Zhao Tianxing for approval.

His answer was brief, but reassuring.

“With me here, any plan will do.”

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