Chapter 173: Wen Jianyan understood that he was playing a very dangerous game.
02 obviously didn’t expect Wen Jianyan to do this.
He subconsciously blinked, his curly hair tousled and his chocolate-colored eyes shimmering faintly in the darkness, seeming a bit dazed.
Wen Jianyan withdrew his hand very calmly.
The almost rewarding, intimate gesture just now seemed to come not from him but from another person, but in just a few seconds, the young man in front of him returned to his previous demeanor.
Rational, cold, and distant.
The heavy gun still lay in his palm, its metallic lines straight and cold with the smell of gunpowder.
Vigilance seemed to build a high brick wall, firmly sealing all soft, sweet, warm existence, only letting out a faint, fleeting sweet scent through the cracks.
“Keep walking.”
He said.
Wen Jianyan took the first step.
“…”
02 glanced deeply at his back and then followed closely.
Very closely.
Like a shark smelling blood in the sea or a wild beast smelling meat after starving for days.
***
The first underground floor of the Ping An Asylum.
The corridor was narrow and long, with no windows. Except for a few emergency lights still on, all the lights had been extinguished, enveloping the darkness and giving off a heavy, undeniable sense of oppression.
The thick smell of blood permeated the air.
Urgent, deliberately softened footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Everyone was rushing toward the exit they remembered, each at their fastest pace.
Although Su Cheng’s speculation made logical sense, it still seemed too bizarre to people’s ears—could their teammate who separated from them in the elevator really have seen so much in such a short time? Was his conclusion correct? Even though they were teammates, could Su Cheng possibly be mistaken?
There were too many factors that could go wrong, and many people were skeptical.
However, during the subsequent journey, Su Cheng’s conclusion was quickly proven correct.
Whether it was the specific map or the patterns of the monsters encountered, it was almost identical to what they had experienced in the illusion. The anchors were well aware of several locations where they might be attacked, knowing exactly when to use what props, what to activate, and what to avoid.
The “rehearsal” effect was very good.
Even compared to the last time when 02 was on the team, this time seemed much easier.
In Su Cheng’s live broadcast room:
[Damn, is this the power of the game’s meta?]
[Haha, it really is. If this were a game, it would be like playing with a cheat code.]
[Thanks to the neighboring anchor Wen Jianyan for sending the cheat code!]
[Thanks to the neighboring anchor Wen Jianyan for sending the cheat code!]
Compared to the illusion, the group’s walking speed was almost doubled, and they passed through the first underground floor with little effort, returning to the staircase area.
As before, they split into three groups and ran in different directions.
In the pitch-black hall, the hills composed of countless heads came alive again, wriggling and emitting sticky sounds as they probed toward their prey, trying to drag them into the nest and become part of it.
However, unlike last time, this time Wen Jianyan did not use a toy gun to destroy the illusion and send them back to the starting point. Instead, they smoothly reached the end of the hall.
“Hurry! Is it done?”
Shao Yao activated the shield, vigilantly watching the ghastly pale necks approaching them from the front, urgently asking without looking back.
“Almost!”
Accompanied by the sizzling sound of corrosion, the metal door lock in the hall gradually disappeared.
Soon, with a loud bang, the narrow back door was forcefully kicked open, and the cold air rushed into their lungs, dispelling the murky, lifeless darkness behind them.
“The door’s open! Let’s go!”
At the command, everyone turned around and ran out at full speed.
Behind them, the door slowly closed, and the ghastly pale necks wriggled in the darkness, but as if afraid of something, they did not chase out of the unlocked door.
Even though those heads didn’t catch up, they didn’t let their guard down. They continued to distance themselves and only slowed down after ensuring safety.
They arrived in the courtyard.
Although it was also part of the Ping An Asylum, it was not inside the building.
It was like a small hollow enveloped by semi-circular wings, and in the center of this hollow, the small church nearby could be vaguely seen.
The church wasn’t large, with a gray brick structure and evident signs of aging on the walls, and the cross on top stood out sharply against the blood-red sky.
That’s right—the blood-red sky.
The few of them stood in the courtyard, looking up and vigilantly watching the sky before them.
It was a glaring red, as if soaked in blood, as if crimson drops would seep from the canopy at any moment, casting an ominous filter.
Against this eerie backdrop, all the buildings were shrouded, giving off an unsettling feeling.
Blond took a deep breath, his face slightly pale.
Su Cheng, who was closest to him, heard and turned his head, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“…” Blond shook his head, stuttering, “N-nothing.”
Although a red sky was rare in the instance, it wasn’t unprecedented. After all, this wasn’t the real world; anything bizarre could happen.
But…
Blond couldn’t help but lift his eyes and glance at the sky above again.
Among all the people here, he was the only one who had entered the Fantasy Amusement Park instance.
For some reason, the color of the sky here gave him a very familiar feeling, and the last time he felt like this was in the Fantasy Amusement Park instance.
In fact…
If it weren’t for those wound-like eyes, the two skies would be almost identical.
“Hey, look over here.”
At this moment, Luce’s solemn voice came from the side, interrupting Blond’s thoughts.
They turned their heads and looked in the direction Luce was pointing, and at that moment, everyone’s hearts tightened, and they almost forgot how to breathe.
Behind them was the main building of the Ping An Asylum they had just escaped from.
Compared to the beginning, it looked completely different now.
The massive building was shrouded in the red light of the sky, and the walls were covered with patches of flesh membranes. Some surged out from the cracks in the windows, and some overflowed directly from the cracks in the walls. It seemed to start from the top floor; the highest level of the Ping An Asylum was completely obscured by thick, lifelike flesh membranes, and those pulsating, neuron-like “organisms” seemed to be spreading downward.
It was currently still there.
However, they had no doubt that after the next bell, these flesh membranes would start moving again, engulfing the entire Ping An Asylum.
“How long do you think it can hold?”
Su Cheng looked at Blond.
Blond scanned the entire main body of the building with his eyes, his face pale, and shook his head slowly. “At most, two times, or maybe even less…”
If the flesh membranes could spread so much within one bell, then if the previous “rule” still applied, in the next two bells, the entire building would completely disappear.
The fate awaiting the anchors still inside the Ping An Asylum would be obvious.
Given the rate of spread, even the small church would hardly be safe.
The anchors only had two choices.
Either complete the mission and earn enough points to leave the instance before the Ping An Asylum disappeared, or face certain death.
Everyone realized this.
“How many points do you all have left?” Luce turned his head and asked.
Several people’s faces didn’t look good.
The point tasks in this instance varied; some were unlimited in terms of completion, while others had limited attempts and time constraints. Once an anchor completed a task, it would permanently disappear from the instance, which meant that each person activated different tasks and earned points accordingly.
Among them, Luce’s completion of tasks was the highest, but even he was still short of three thousand points to clear the instance…
To complete it within two bells… this was just too extreme.
Shao Yao glanced at her task list.
After they arrived at the courtyard, new tasks appeared in their task list.
[Primary Task Refreshed: Enter the Chapel]
[Reward Points: 200]
Clearly, more tasks would appear for the anchors to complete after entering the church.
“Let’s go; we’re going in.”
Luce said thoughtfully after a few seconds.
He looked at Su Cheng and Blond and said, “What about you two, coming with us?”
Su Cheng shook his head: “No.”
“You’re waiting for your teammate?” Luce furrowed his brows. “I suggest you don’t. He’s been separated from us since the elevator; his fate is uncertain. Frankly, the chances of him coming out alive are very low. Instead of clinging to unrealistic hopes and waiting, it’s better to—”
He was interrupted by Su Cheng before he could finish his sentence.
“If he had thought the same way, then it would’ve been impossible for me to leave the laboratory in the first place.”
“…”
His words hit the nail on the head, and Luce fell silent.
Even without much observation, it was evident that these two had known each other for a long time. Otherwise, that guy wouldn’t have been dragging his teammate’s unconscious body into such a critical situation. This level of trust wasn’t something he could sway with just a few words.
A stubborn ghost who wouldn’t listen to reason.
But the situation was different for the other person.
He looked at Blond: “What about you? Do you want to wait too?”
“Come with us; your chances of survival will be much higher.”
Luce’s rare advice was given.
After all, there were only a few tasks—the one who activated and completed them first would gain more advantages.
He didn’t have a deep bond with the other person, but within such a short time, Luce had noticed Blond’s visual talent.
So, Luce had a bit of a selfish motive for poaching.
Activating this talent had a small cost, and its duration was long. Even if not activated, the anchor wouldn’t lose its visual advantage.
Moreover, compared to the anchor with an unclear ability, he seemed less familiar with the opposing team captain. He appeared more timid and easier to control, and his joining could increase the team’s chances of survival.
However, what surprised him greatly was that Blond, who seemed extremely timid and hesitant, shook his head without hesitation, firmly rejecting his proposal.
“No, thanks. I’ll wait here.”
Su Cheng’s refusal didn’t surprise Luce, but Blond’s firm decision caught him off guard.
He paused for a moment and couldn’t help but glance at the Ping An Asylum behind them.
The building had already been consumed halfway, appearing precarious against the backdrop of the blood-red sky—the fate of the opposing team captain was unknown, lost within it, unsure if there was any possibility of survival.
Even so, there were still two team members willing to sacrifice their own chances of survival just to wait for him.
“…”
In his previous experiences, Luce had a thorough understanding of that guy’s abilities, but what he didn’t expect was that he still underestimated the ability to control people.
This kind of charisma that could make people follow unquestioningly was truly terrifying.
He sighed, no longer trying to persuade with kind words, but instead turned with his two teammates and left, walking quickly in the direction of the chapel.
Shao Yao’s eyes flashed, glancing back at Su Cheng and Blond waiting in the courtyard, then she turned around and caught up with her teammates.
Su Cheng turned to look at Blond.
His choice was both unexpected and expected.
It was unexpected that someone who seemed so timid would choose such a risky option in this situation, but the reason it was expected was… although he didn’t know this guy before, he was brought in by Wen Jianyan after all.
And Wen Jianyan himself had that kind of magic.
“What’s your name?” Su Cheng asked.
His attitude changed.
If before, he only treated this guy as a temporary teammate, now he regards him as a potential partner for future collaboration.
Blond grinned, “Yang Fan.”
“Su Cheng.”
Su Cheng introduced himself.
The palms of the two briefly shook.
An invisible, almost tacit affirmation was born.
Su Cheng withdrew his hand, turned his head to the nearby building, took a deep breath, and activated his ability.
Watching the familiar card-drawing motion of the other party, Blond was taken aback, immediately realizing what the other was doing. He quieted down, nervously watching the other’s actions.
After a few seconds, everything was over.
Su Cheng lowered his head, eyebrows furrowed, staring at his palm as if there was an invisible card there.
“What question did you ask?” Blond asked in a low voice, barely daring to breathe.
“His safety.”
“And the result?”
“…I don’t know,” Su Cheng said, shaking his head slowly and raising his eyes. “I don’t know.”
Blond was stunned for two seconds.
Although he wasn’t a tarot master, he had played before in the real world. The advice from tarot cards might be vague or difficult to interpret, but there would always be some direction.
But… not knowing?
How could that be?
Su Cheng stared at the blank card in his palm, his expression serious.
Since gaining the ability, he has only drawn a blank card twice: once when Wen Jianyan asked his question last time, and now.
Even with the gift of prophecy, he couldn’t see through the fog of destiny. It was as if there was a more powerful force isolating his abilities. In the past, no matter what card he drew, there would be a faint intuition in his mind. However, when he drew a blank card, his mind was completely empty.
Could it be…
Was the safety of the other person this time related to the question from last time?
***
The second underground floor of the Ping An Asylum.
The journey ahead went relatively smoothly.
Perhaps because there weren’t many high-risk patients on the second underground floor and they hadn’t been affected, turning into monsters like those on the first underground floor and in the lobby, they encountered nothing particularly troublesome along the way and arrived smoothly at the staircase.
Wen Jianyan stood still, looking up.
The staircase was dark and deep, leading far away.
The staircases between the first and second underground floors were connected, so he didn’t need to go through the first underground floor again. Instead, he could go straight through the lobby and then to the courtyard.
In at most ten minutes, he could completely leave the Ping An Asylum.
But Wen Jianyan knew that his real test was just beginning.
Without a trace, he glanced at 02 beside him.
The other party looked no different from before. He had relaxed posture, a cheerful expression, brown eyes half hidden beneath curled eyelashes, and an unreadable expression.
The fragile rope began to show signs of breaking.
Because the other side of the scale began to add weight.
Leaving here also meant that the fragile cooperative relationship between the two of them would come to an end. Wen Jianyan no longer needed a high-risk patient to protect him, something 02 couldn’t possibly not know.
Cooperating with a high-risk patient was akin to seeking skin from a tiger. At best, it could only maintain a temporary balance. However, as soon as the environment showed the slightest change, this apparent safety would easily be shattered.
Wen Jianyan understood that he was playing a very dangerous game.
A slight misstep, and he would lose everything.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and headed toward the stairs.
Thud, thud, thud.
The even footsteps echoed in the narrow space, each one striking his heart.
In other words, if he were to be bitten back…
It was about time.
Chapter 173: Wen Jianyan understood that he was playing a very dangerous game.
02 obviously didn’t expect Wen Jianyan to do this.
He subconsciously blinked, his curly hair tousled and his chocolate-colored eyes shimmering faintly in the darkness, seeming a bit dazed.
Wen Jianyan withdrew his hand very calmly.
The almost rewarding, intimate gesture just now seemed to come not from him but from another person, but in just a few seconds, the young man in front of him returned to his previous demeanor.
Rational, cold, and distant.
The heavy gun still lay in his palm, its metallic lines straight and cold with the smell of gunpowder.
Vigilance seemed to build a high brick wall, firmly sealing all soft, sweet, warm existence, only letting out a faint, fleeting sweet scent through the cracks.
“Keep walking.”
He said.
Wen Jianyan took the first step.
“…”
02 glanced deeply at his back and then followed closely.
Very closely.
Like a shark smelling blood in the sea or a wild beast smelling meat after starving for days.
***
The first underground floor of the Ping An Asylum.
The corridor was narrow and long, with no windows. Except for a few emergency lights still on, all the lights had been extinguished, enveloping the darkness and giving off a heavy, undeniable sense of oppression.
The thick smell of blood permeated the air.
Urgent, deliberately softened footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Everyone was rushing toward the exit they remembered, each at their fastest pace.
Although Su Cheng’s speculation made logical sense, it still seemed too bizarre to people’s ears—could their teammate who separated from them in the elevator really have seen so much in such a short time? Was his conclusion correct? Even though they were teammates, could Su Cheng possibly be mistaken?
There were too many factors that could go wrong, and many people were skeptical.
However, during the subsequent journey, Su Cheng’s conclusion was quickly proven correct.
Whether it was the specific map or the patterns of the monsters encountered, it was almost identical to what they had experienced in the illusion. The anchors were well aware of several locations where they might be attacked, knowing exactly when to use what props, what to activate, and what to avoid.
The “rehearsal” effect was very good.
Even compared to the last time when 02 was on the team, this time seemed much easier.
In Su Cheng’s live broadcast room:
[Damn, is this the power of the game’s meta?]
[Haha, it really is. If this were a game, it would be like playing with a cheat code.]
[Thanks to the neighboring anchor Wen Jianyan for sending the cheat code!]
[Thanks to the neighboring anchor Wen Jianyan for sending the cheat code!]
Compared to the illusion, the group’s walking speed was almost doubled, and they passed through the first underground floor with little effort, returning to the staircase area.
As before, they split into three groups and ran in different directions.
In the pitch-black hall, the hills composed of countless heads came alive again, wriggling and emitting sticky sounds as they probed toward their prey, trying to drag them into the nest and become part of it.
However, unlike last time, this time Wen Jianyan did not use a toy gun to destroy the illusion and send them back to the starting point. Instead, they smoothly reached the end of the hall.
“Hurry! Is it done?”
Shao Yao activated the shield, vigilantly watching the ghastly pale necks approaching them from the front, urgently asking without looking back.
“Almost!”
Accompanied by the sizzling sound of corrosion, the metal door lock in the hall gradually disappeared.
Soon, with a loud bang, the narrow back door was forcefully kicked open, and the cold air rushed into their lungs, dispelling the murky, lifeless darkness behind them.
“The door’s open! Let’s go!”
At the command, everyone turned around and ran out at full speed.
Behind them, the door slowly closed, and the ghastly pale necks wriggled in the darkness, but as if afraid of something, they did not chase out of the unlocked door.
Even though those heads didn’t catch up, they didn’t let their guard down. They continued to distance themselves and only slowed down after ensuring safety.
They arrived in the courtyard.
Although it was also part of the Ping An Asylum, it was not inside the building.
It was like a small hollow enveloped by semi-circular wings, and in the center of this hollow, the small church nearby could be vaguely seen.
The church wasn’t large, with a gray brick structure and evident signs of aging on the walls, and the cross on top stood out sharply against the blood-red sky.
That’s right—the blood-red sky.
The few of them stood in the courtyard, looking up and vigilantly watching the sky before them.
It was a glaring red, as if soaked in blood, as if crimson drops would seep from the canopy at any moment, casting an ominous filter.
Against this eerie backdrop, all the buildings were shrouded, giving off an unsettling feeling.
Blond took a deep breath, his face slightly pale.
Su Cheng, who was closest to him, heard and turned his head, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“…” Blond shook his head, stuttering, “N-nothing.”
Although a red sky was rare in the instance, it wasn’t unprecedented. After all, this wasn’t the real world; anything bizarre could happen.
But…
Blond couldn’t help but lift his eyes and glance at the sky above again.
Among all the people here, he was the only one who had entered the Fantasy Amusement Park instance.
For some reason, the color of the sky here gave him a very familiar feeling, and the last time he felt like this was in the Fantasy Amusement Park instance.
In fact…
If it weren’t for those wound-like eyes, the two skies would be almost identical.
“Hey, look over here.”
At this moment, Luce’s solemn voice came from the side, interrupting Blond’s thoughts.
They turned their heads and looked in the direction Luce was pointing, and at that moment, everyone’s hearts tightened, and they almost forgot how to breathe.
Behind them was the main building of the Ping An Asylum they had just escaped from.
Compared to the beginning, it looked completely different now.
The massive building was shrouded in the red light of the sky, and the walls were covered with patches of flesh membranes. Some surged out from the cracks in the windows, and some overflowed directly from the cracks in the walls. It seemed to start from the top floor; the highest level of the Ping An Asylum was completely obscured by thick, lifelike flesh membranes, and those pulsating, neuron-like “organisms” seemed to be spreading downward.
It was currently still there.
However, they had no doubt that after the next bell, these flesh membranes would start moving again, engulfing the entire Ping An Asylum.
“How long do you think it can hold?”
Su Cheng looked at Blond.
Blond scanned the entire main body of the building with his eyes, his face pale, and shook his head slowly. “At most, two times, or maybe even less…”
If the flesh membranes could spread so much within one bell, then if the previous “rule” still applied, in the next two bells, the entire building would completely disappear.
The fate awaiting the anchors still inside the Ping An Asylum would be obvious.
Given the rate of spread, even the small church would hardly be safe.
The anchors only had two choices.
Either complete the mission and earn enough points to leave the instance before the Ping An Asylum disappeared, or face certain death.
Everyone realized this.
“How many points do you all have left?” Luce turned his head and asked.
Several people’s faces didn’t look good.
The point tasks in this instance varied; some were unlimited in terms of completion, while others had limited attempts and time constraints. Once an anchor completed a task, it would permanently disappear from the instance, which meant that each person activated different tasks and earned points accordingly.
Among them, Luce’s completion of tasks was the highest, but even he was still short of three thousand points to clear the instance…
To complete it within two bells… this was just too extreme.
Shao Yao glanced at her task list.
After they arrived at the courtyard, new tasks appeared in their task list.
[Primary Task Refreshed: Enter the Chapel]
[Reward Points: 200]
Clearly, more tasks would appear for the anchors to complete after entering the church.
“Let’s go; we’re going in.”
Luce said thoughtfully after a few seconds.
He looked at Su Cheng and Blond and said, “What about you two, coming with us?”
Su Cheng shook his head: “No.”
“You’re waiting for your teammate?” Luce furrowed his brows. “I suggest you don’t. He’s been separated from us since the elevator; his fate is uncertain. Frankly, the chances of him coming out alive are very low. Instead of clinging to unrealistic hopes and waiting, it’s better to—”
He was interrupted by Su Cheng before he could finish his sentence.
“If he had thought the same way, then it would’ve been impossible for me to leave the laboratory in the first place.”
“…”
His words hit the nail on the head, and Luce fell silent.
Even without much observation, it was evident that these two had known each other for a long time. Otherwise, that guy wouldn’t have been dragging his teammate’s unconscious body into such a critical situation. This level of trust wasn’t something he could sway with just a few words.
A stubborn ghost who wouldn’t listen to reason.
But the situation was different for the other person.
He looked at Blond: “What about you? Do you want to wait too?”
“Come with us; your chances of survival will be much higher.”
Luce’s rare advice was given.
After all, there were only a few tasks—the one who activated and completed them first would gain more advantages.
He didn’t have a deep bond with the other person, but within such a short time, Luce had noticed Blond’s visual talent.
So, Luce had a bit of a selfish motive for poaching.
Activating this talent had a small cost, and its duration was long. Even if not activated, the anchor wouldn’t lose its visual advantage.
Moreover, compared to the anchor with an unclear ability, he seemed less familiar with the opposing team captain. He appeared more timid and easier to control, and his joining could increase the team’s chances of survival.
However, what surprised him greatly was that Blond, who seemed extremely timid and hesitant, shook his head without hesitation, firmly rejecting his proposal.
“No, thanks. I’ll wait here.”
Su Cheng’s refusal didn’t surprise Luce, but Blond’s firm decision caught him off guard.
He paused for a moment and couldn’t help but glance at the Ping An Asylum behind them.
The building had already been consumed halfway, appearing precarious against the backdrop of the blood-red sky—the fate of the opposing team captain was unknown, lost within it, unsure if there was any possibility of survival.
Even so, there were still two team members willing to sacrifice their own chances of survival just to wait for him.
“…”
In his previous experiences, Luce had a thorough understanding of that guy’s abilities, but what he didn’t expect was that he still underestimated the ability to control people.
This kind of charisma that could make people follow unquestioningly was truly terrifying.
He sighed, no longer trying to persuade with kind words, but instead turned with his two teammates and left, walking quickly in the direction of the chapel.
Shao Yao’s eyes flashed, glancing back at Su Cheng and Blond waiting in the courtyard, then she turned around and caught up with her teammates.
Su Cheng turned to look at Blond.
His choice was both unexpected and expected.
It was unexpected that someone who seemed so timid would choose such a risky option in this situation, but the reason it was expected was… although he didn’t know this guy before, he was brought in by Wen Jianyan after all.
And Wen Jianyan himself had that kind of magic.
“What’s your name?” Su Cheng asked.
His attitude changed.
If before, he only treated this guy as a temporary teammate, now he regards him as a potential partner for future collaboration.
Blond grinned, “Yang Fan.”
“Su Cheng.”
Su Cheng introduced himself.
The palms of the two briefly shook.
An invisible, almost tacit affirmation was born.
Su Cheng withdrew his hand, turned his head to the nearby building, took a deep breath, and activated his ability.
Watching the familiar card-drawing motion of the other party, Blond was taken aback, immediately realizing what the other was doing. He quieted down, nervously watching the other’s actions.
After a few seconds, everything was over.
Su Cheng lowered his head, eyebrows furrowed, staring at his palm as if there was an invisible card there.
“What question did you ask?” Blond asked in a low voice, barely daring to breathe.
“His safety.”
“And the result?”
“…I don’t know,” Su Cheng said, shaking his head slowly and raising his eyes. “I don’t know.”
Blond was stunned for two seconds.
Although he wasn’t a tarot master, he had played before in the real world. The advice from tarot cards might be vague or difficult to interpret, but there would always be some direction.
But… not knowing?
How could that be?
Su Cheng stared at the blank card in his palm, his expression serious.
Since gaining the ability, he has only drawn a blank card twice: once when Wen Jianyan asked his question last time, and now.
Even with the gift of prophecy, he couldn’t see through the fog of destiny. It was as if there was a more powerful force isolating his abilities. In the past, no matter what card he drew, there would be a faint intuition in his mind. However, when he drew a blank card, his mind was completely empty.
Could it be…
Was the safety of the other person this time related to the question from last time?
***
The second underground floor of the Ping An Asylum.
The journey ahead went relatively smoothly.
Perhaps because there weren’t many high-risk patients on the second underground floor and they hadn’t been affected, turning into monsters like those on the first underground floor and in the lobby, they encountered nothing particularly troublesome along the way and arrived smoothly at the staircase.
Wen Jianyan stood still, looking up.
The staircase was dark and deep, leading far away.
The staircases between the first and second underground floors were connected, so he didn’t need to go through the first underground floor again. Instead, he could go straight through the lobby and then to the courtyard.
In at most ten minutes, he could completely leave the Ping An Asylum.
But Wen Jianyan knew that his real test was just beginning.
Without a trace, he glanced at 02 beside him.
The other party looked no different from before. He had relaxed posture, a cheerful expression, brown eyes half hidden beneath curled eyelashes, and an unreadable expression.
The fragile rope began to show signs of breaking.
Because the other side of the scale began to add weight.
Leaving here also meant that the fragile cooperative relationship between the two of them would come to an end. Wen Jianyan no longer needed a high-risk patient to protect him, something 02 couldn’t possibly not know.
Cooperating with a high-risk patient was akin to seeking skin from a tiger. At best, it could only maintain a temporary balance. However, as soon as the environment showed the slightest change, this apparent safety would easily be shattered.
Wen Jianyan understood that he was playing a very dangerous game.
A slight misstep, and he would lose everything.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and headed toward the stairs.
Thud, thud, thud.
The even footsteps echoed in the narrow space, each one striking his heart.
In other words, if he were to be bitten back…
It was about time.
