A Tower so imnse, a ship capable of traveling through ti and space, a cult nest hiding countless secrets... How many doors will there be here?
Many, many.
Those connecting different floors, different rooms, different corridors, or rely used to cut off specific areas, acting as security barriers, each door now quietly awaits the fateful passerby.
A team cautiously advances through the connecting passageway leading to the core cabin in the D-1 zone, seeking traces of the intruder.
An outsider is hiding on this ship, attacking the previous first combat team and retrieval group and invading parts of the ship’s systems. Now, the surveillance system is no longer reliable, and the intruders can only be found through manpower.
The combatants of the cloaked order, clad in light power armor and black cloaks, move swiftly. The sensory systems attached to the armor allow them to "sll" any slight changes in the air and temperature, magnetic field fluctuations; they also carry the remaining active Brass Knights, so of whom are set to optical camouflages, scattered as surprise elents before and behind the team and nearby passageways.
There are also various small drones operating nearby, shuttling back and forth through ventilation ducts, maintenance slots, and connecting passages, extending the team’s "perception range" and monitoring more potential abnormal signals.
This setup can maximally ensure tily and accurate intelligence; even if the intruder is strong, the team can at least get notified before an attack, preventing the team from being wiped out in a surprise assault.
Ronan-22 cultivator really cannot fathom what kind of enemy could approach the team’s eyes under such circumstances and take away its mbers.
Yet an unshakeable sense of unease still lingers in his heart, even seeping into the surrounding air.
"Cultivator," a low-tier cultivator suddenly breaks the silence, muttering quietly in the team’s communication, "I keep feeling as if soone is watching nearby."
Ronan-22 looks at the low-tier cultivator speaking, "Allen-27, you’re too nervous; there’s no one around here. My spiritual intuition hasn’t alard."
"Probably," the low-tier cultivator referred to as "Allen-27" nods but still instinctively glances around.
The long corridor is brightly lit, with a gentle buzzing coming from nearby ventilation ducts; the gravity environnt of the current area has been restored, and the air purification device is operating normally.
The walls on both sides are adorned with tal reliefs depicting various ancient sages, and the arched ceiling is decorated with exquisite frescoes symbolizing various prophecies. Between those sages and wise figures, hidden caras slowly rotate, scanning the corridor’s circumstances.
Everything seems normal, yet there’s an undeniable abnormal atmosphere.
Allen-27 even feels that the figures on the reliefs and frescoes are watching him, even feeling that so among "them" were just winking at him.
He even feels the ground beneath him softening at a certain mont, stepping on it felt like walking on soft flesh, even carrying warmth.
Beneath the floor, blood pulsates and nerve bundles pass through the steel above, echoing the disruptive electrical sounds. Every wall hides eyes harboring ill intent, watching the prey within—an intense and terrifying "impression" uncontrollably erges from deep in his heart. Allen-27 doesn’t know why he harbors these dreadful associations, but in just a mont, he feels all that malice vanish, feeling he just had a brief and unreasonable dream.
...Is it due to the shaful genetic defect hidden in him? Or because his initial individual in the offspring adjustnt process increased the neural sensitivity too much?
Allen-27 shakes his head, examining once more the various detection data returned by the power armor—yes, everything is normal.
The team is passing through the gate at the end of the D-1 zone, heading to the vicinity of the core zone.
The previous combat team disappeared near this gate.
But there’s no trace of battle here.
Ronan-22 cultivator leads the team by first carefully checking the nearby environnt before stepping through the gate.
Allen-27 walks at the end of the team, watching as others step through the gate one by one, observing their figures continuing to move down the corridor on the other side, watching all these normal scenes—yet for so reason, he always feels sothing is off.
As if those stepping through the door never truly reached the other side of the corridor, as if all he sees is rely an illusion.
He feels the figures around him reducing, and when the last fellow passes through the door, he feels as though he is left alone, standing solitary in the long corridor.
"Cultivator!" He stops before the gate, suddenly shouting, "Sothing’s not right!"
"What are you doing over there?" Ronan-22 cultivator turns, looking discontentedly in this direction, "Hurry up and co over!"
"Cultivator, I said sothing’s wrong—I feel it!" Allen-27 unconsciously pants heavily, his heart pounding, nerves surging with a naless impulse, "Hurry back, there’s an issue with where you are!"
Yet Ronan-22 cultivator still stands on the other side of the door, along with others who have already passed through, staring steadily in Allen-27’s direction.
Through the thick tactical helt, Allen-27 seems to sense that gaze falling upon himself.
"Brothers and sisters...?" He feels sothing grip his throat tightly; speaking cos with a hard-to-describe discomfort, "Are you... are you really on the other side?"
"Ronan-22" quietly watches him, saying nothing.
Allen-27 suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his head, a pain that seed to tear through his nerves and burrow into his brain. His heart tightened, and a large dose of Spiritual Vision Potion was directly injected into his spinal cord. The warning sound inside the Power Armor shrieked sharply in his ears. Then, at the mont the super dose took effect, he finally saw it...
A pair of indifferent eyes, pale gray, as if drained of color.
In front of him wasn’t the "connecting corridor" but a strange hall, and fully ard Special Service Bureau Officers.
Allen-27 gasped sharply, turned around, and ran!
At the sa ti, he quickly opened all communication channels built into his Power Armor, frantically calling every communicator he could connect to at that mont—
"The doors! There’s sothing wrong with the doors! Stay away from the ship’s doors!"
However, all that ca through the communicator was a harsh static noise.
Allen-27 stopped in his tracks, slowly raised his head.
Ancient sages cast their gaze down at him, shaking their heads helplessly, the tal reliefs flowed from "them" like mud, slowly piling up at his feet and binding his hands and feet. The ground beca soft, undulating like waves, inch by inch pushing him toward the nearest door.
In the corridor, there was the strange sound of tal writhing and Allen-27’s repeated shouting:
"There’s sothing wrong with the doors! Stay away from the ship’s doors! There’s sothing wrong with the doors! There’s sothing wrong—"
...
Baili Qing turned her head, looking at those who still stood dazedly in place, allowing the nearby Special Service Bureau Officers to dismantle their power armor without resistance, and raised her hand to rub her eyes gently.
Further away in the open ground were the parts of Brass Knights dismantled by the deep divers and the "mud" substance burned to ashes.
Song Cheng stood to the side, watching as the last mber of the Hermit Society was "thrown" over here. This mber was obviously not as "quiet" as those who had willingly walked over before. As soon as he broke free of his restraints, he started shouting and trying to attack the nearby deep divers with the weapon in his hand. Fortunately, Xu Jiali was more skilled, disarming him in just a few moves.
"There aren’t many who can wake up under your watch," Song Cheng said, sowhat impressed, "There are still so capable ones among them."
"They were drugged," Xu Jiali’s muffled voice sounded from under the Power Armor helt as he lifted his head. He had just checked on the Hermit Society mber he had knocked unconscious, now speaking with so regret, "Even if we save them, they’d just drool, their brains almost cooked by the Spiritual Vision Potion."
"...Let’s take them to the dical room first and see, the more living ones we have, the more possible sources of information," Song Cheng waved his hand, "We have to figure out how these guys sneaked in secretly and what they intend to do in Boundary City."
A new batch of captives was soon taken away, to be contained in the sa facility as the two previous batches.
Baili Qing and Song Cheng continued to wait at the door.
The scene was quiet, the atmosphere slightly peculiar.
Song Cheng looked at the female director next to him and tried to speak several tis.
After a while, he finally couldn’t help it: "Director, do you think... from the perspective of public cognition, we should be the righteous side, and this Hermit Society is the villain, right?"
Baili Qing glanced at him.
"...Why does it feel like the situation has reversed," Song Cheng twitched the corner of his mouth, "I’ve carried out countless cultist capture missions before, but never has the situation been like this."
Baili Qing expressionless: "As long as we can ensure the safety of the Boundary Land, the details don’t matter."
"...You have a point."
And just then, Baili Qing’s phone vibrated again.
She picked up the phone and glanced at it, her expression slightly changed.
Song Cheng imdiately knew that this was a new ssage from Yu Sheng— few could elicit a change in expression from the poker-faced director.
"What did Yu Sheng say?"
Baili Qing: "He asked if the Special Service Bureau knows what the Artificial Saintess’s ’Holy Coffin’ looks like."
Song Cheng: "...What’s he planning?"
"He wants to try to bring over a whole set of Artificial Saintess systems—including the Saintess herself, along with the Holy Coffin and the supporting maintenance system," Baili Qing took a soft breath, "An astonishing idea."
"...That’s indeed astonishing."
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