Chapter 38: The Destination

"Tell me, if the 'Pyromaniac' mobile task force hadn't been dispatched to handle the emergency, do you think the aftermath at Facility 031 would have been less severe?"

A member of the "Hippie" squad skirted around the wreckage, sighing as he spoke.

"Even if the 'Horticulturists' are the most professional at dealing with plant-based anomalies, the 'Pyromaniacs' were stationed much closer. They could have suppressed CVA-A-1099 in a few quick moves. It’s all fire anyway; what’s the difference?"

"There’s no such thing as 'what if.' What, are you going to go over there with a flyswatter to help them swat mosquitoes? Their team isn't tasked with sitting around at facilities, so don't go looking for trouble for them," another member retorted.

"I’m just venting. It’s a pity I don't have the clearance to know more. I really want to know where those damn things that fly at bullet-train speeds actually come from..."

Beside them, the fire lookout tower on the summit had completely collapsed.

The tower was rebuilt every year after winter and couldn't withstand a violent collision. Now, the toppled structure had smashed into a brick building, snapping the beams in two, while the observation room at the top had tumbled all the way down to the foot of the slope.

"Speaking of which, are they still talking in that tent?"

"Probably going to be a while."

One of the members glanced at the tent not far away. The light inside cast swaying silhouettes onto the canvas. Judging by their gestures, the people inside were quite agitated.

The agents who arrived at the scene found two fire lookouts in the forest at dawn. Regardless of what they had witnessed the night before, the experience had terrified them out of their wits, leaving them muttering "monster, monster" incessantly. The most useful clue gathered so far was that the thing that had burst out of the forest had stolen their vehicle—a monster that knew how to drive.

"I thought people who lived in the mountains would have more nerve."

"They aren't like us, dealing with anomalies every single day."

The two weren't just making idle conversation; they were responsible for guarding the ruins, while more members were scattered throughout the forest establishing a containment perimeter. Detailed analysis and collection would have to wait for the follow-up teams to arrive.

Mobile task forces were not firefighters; unless it was a special situation, these elite units were rarely deployed. Cleanup was not their domain; they were only currently guarding the site under temporary orders. The Administration was a precise and massive institution where every department performed its own duties. Agents and investigators would soon arrive to take over the scene, and many more had been mobilized to spread out along the border—in certain environments, they were more effective than a task force.

"I’m telling the truth! What do you mean 'nonsense'? We were the first eyewitnesses!"

A shout came from inside the tent. They were arguing again.

Darkness and fear truly could severely impair a person’s judgment. If one were to fully believe the lookouts' testimony, then last night "a mountain-like monster crushed trees, charged up the mountain, smashed their house, and then took off."

In reality, the traces left in the forest were not nearly that dramatic. There were trees that had been pushed aside, but not to the extent of being crushed. As for the bending of the tower’s pillars, it was highly likely that the tower had been knocked down by the stolen vehicle at full speed—the structure hadn't been designed with the possibility of being hit by a car in mind. Furthermore, the two lookouts had fled as soon as they saw the intruder heading up the mountain, never daring to look back. Most of the clues they provided were likely delusions born of their "eyewitness accounts" combined with the sounds they heard.

The greatest progress made in the past few hours was solving the mystery of the car. The keys had been left on the ground, the tank was full, and it was an automatic—anyone could have driven it away. As for what exactly left the tire tracks on the grass and shrubs... no metal fragments or biological traces had been found at the scene, so they would have to wait for the researchers to crack the puzzle.

The sun had climbed to its zenith. The two members standing on the peak of Mount Igor traced the drag marks with their eyes, from the forest path all the way to the ruins, then turning to follow the tire tracks leading down the road. In that direction, one could faintly see the golden mountain range that served as the border—once across, they would be in the Tenth District.

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*Beep, beep, beep...*

The alert sound startled Bjorn, causing him to jerk his head up.

He had actually fallen asleep leaning against the steering wheel. He searched the car for a moment before finally finding the source of the sound on his own person. In a panic, Bjorn tried to switch off the button-like device, but it was no use. The device kept on wailing.

A group of people on the roadside diagonally opposite were drawn by the sound and began walking toward him, pointing at the car and discussing the dent on the hood and the shattered glass. Bjorn raised his hand, ready to throw the device away.

Just before the button left his hand, he remembered. This was a locator. He had to rely on it to meet up with those people. He gripped his hand shut again. Seeing the nosy crowd getting closer, Bjorn tucked away the shrill, beeping device and hurriedly started the vehicle. The car bumped out of the weeds and onto the road with a shudder. The group tried to block the car as it passed, shouting at him, but Bjorn steered around them and sped off.

His mind was a mess, and he had a splitting headache. Ever since his flight began, he felt as if he hadn't slept or remembered eating. He had been walking and running in a trance between dreams and reality, frantically looking for a direction. Driving had been even worse—alternating between blackouts and consciousness, with the scenery before his eyes switching like a slide show.

Where was he now? The border? The heart of the Tenth District? The border near the finish line?

The rearview mirror reflected Bjorn’s bloodshot eyes. He looked terrible—hair disheveled, covered in dirt, driving a high-powered off-road vehicle that clearly didn't belong to him. He looked every bit like a vagrant or a car thief.

*Damn it, I used to be a deputy facility director, a B-level member of the Administration!*

The sound of the device softened, turning into a gentler, more directional, and commanding beep. Bjorn pinched the bridge of his nose hard, forcing himself to stay awake. He finally remembered the meeting address they had agreed upon—according to the road signs he had just seen, it shouldn't be far. He would definitely make it before sunrise tomorrow.

"I know you've had enough of the Administration's pedantic system. How about we make a deal?" the person who had inexplicably approached him during his vacation had said. "You have Level 3 clearance and can access many things we need. We can give you what you want and lead you into a much broader world."

At the time, Bjorn’s first reaction was that this was a trap set by the Administration. He had experienced too many such sudden loyalty tests. But when he reached for his communicator to call for help, the person showed him something. Something that absolutely could not have existed within the Administration...

The sound from the device became more distinct. Bjorn accelerated, racing toward the sunset as it slid below the horizon.

He was almost there.

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Shi Rang wandered through the weeds and rusted structures, searching for that one photo that could liberate him.

Factory? No. Reaction tower? No.

Pressing the shutter again and again, being rejected, picking himself up, shooting again—it was an endless cycle. He fell into a state bordering on hypnosis. A voice in his heart told him that as long as he covered every inch of this industrial zone, he could break free from his predicament. But then another voice followed—if he couldn't even get past his editor-in-chief, how could he hope to overcome greater future challenges and go find Ying Shang?

Finally, he slammed to a halt deep in the industrial zone, gripped his camera tight, and let out a roar toward the empty road.

The shout was meaningless, yet it was more explosive than any mark he had ever left on the world. The sound surged out through the vacant factory area, vibrating endlessly between the buildings.

He had had enough.

The suppression poured into the floodgate of "anger." Shi Rang summoned his courage, climbed to the top of an open-air staircase, held his phone high, shook it until he found a single bar of weak signal, and pressed the call button with enough force to shatter the screen, turning on the speakerphone.

A few seconds later, the editor-in-chief’s voice rang out.

"What? You still haven't got the pho—"

"I quit! Screw your photos, screw your news!"

There was silence on the other end for several seconds. The editor-in-chief was clearly stunned by his outburst. Shi Rang had always been a somewhat spineless, honest man, but many forgot that even honest men could erupt.

"I don't care about your exclusive rights. I’m not signing this news, I’m not participating, I’m going to pretend none of this ever happened! When the Alliance comes asking about your investigative rights, you can explain it to them yourself!"

"Wait a minute, you—"

Shi Rang clicked the phone off.

He had no job now, but the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. He had only entered the journalism industry to investigate Ying Shang's whereabouts anyway. He was planning on becoming a traveler next, so quitting was fine. This wasn't the end of the world.

That’s right—the editor had already sent out the initial draft, but the detailed in-depth report hadn't been sent yet. The editor never should have given him the investigative rights; the Alliance would ensure Shi Rang was the primary investigator and publisher. It was the editor who was in a hurry, not him. Even if the news became stale, even if he didn't get paid, he had already sought justice for the victims.

At the very least, he wouldn't let the editor-in-chief live comfortably!

Living is living, no matter how. He had arrived in the Tenth District with empty pockets, and he could find a way to get by!

His pounding heart gradually calmed down. Shi Rang knew there was no turning back from the choice he had made, but he didn't regret it. At least he had reclaimed his own fury.

Returning to reality, he realized that the sky had gone completely dark, the moon half-hidden behind the clouds. It was as if a hand had quietly nudged the planet, sweeping away the twilight and the early night, switching to the time ruled by darkness.

*When did it get dark? How long have I been running around here pointlessly?*

He descended the stairs by the faint moonlight, looking at the endlessly stacked buildings. It wasn't as vast as the old industrial zone in Pingyuan City; dense factories, warehouses, storage tanks, and processing lines were jammed together. No matter which direction he looked, the end was always the outline of an object.

A labyrinth forged of concrete and rusted metal.

*Since I’ve quit, I should hurry home... I'll think about the paperwork tomorrow. I still have things at the office I haven't retrieved...*

He tried to discern the direction from which he had come, but in the sound of the wind and the rustling of weeds, it seemed as if the roar of excavators emerged. The shaking buildings groaned and swayed before his eyes, the moonlight above faded, shadows engulfed him, and the soil rose above his chest again. Shi Rang trembled so hard he couldn't hold the camera; he had to kneel down, repeatedly feeling the ground and his own free legs, telling himself he was standing on solid earth.

After the first wave of fear subsided, he was drenched in sweat. He still couldn't adapt to the darkness, couldn't conquer that shadow.

*I've stayed out too long!*

Shi Rang turned on his phone’s flashlight, holding the light up to observe the maze.

*I should have come from that road ahead; I photographed that water tower...*

At that moment, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

His phone was almost out of battery.