Lu Chenzhou’s words were swallowed. Not by a reply, but by darkness. The few sickly green emergency lights in the equipment room, along with all the indicator lights and faint glows on the instrument panels, were snuffed out simultaneously as if by an invisible hand. Absolute, oppressive darkness that pushed against the eyeballs. He immediately shut his mouth, his body reacting before his mind could—crouching sideways, his left hand yanking the nearest team member and shoving them hard toward the dead angle behind the equipment cabinet from memory. The darkness lasted less than a second. An extremely muffled, *thump-thump* sound, as if a hammer wrapped in thick cloth was striking a wooden board, tore through the silence. Immediately after, the iron door emitted a teeth-grating screech of tearing metal. Sparks erupted around the doorframe, instantly illuminating swirling metal shards and dust. The pungent smell of gunpowder mixed with the acrid stench of burnt plastic, violently flooding the nostrils. “Take cover!” Lu Chenzhou roared, his voice pressed deep in his throat. He drew his pistol, and by the afterimage left by the momentary flash of sparks, aimed the muzzle roughly toward the doorframe and pulled the trigger. The gunshot exploded in the confined space, making eardrums buzz. He emptied the remaining three rounds in the magazine, not aiming to hit, only to suppress, to prevent the other side from charging directly in during the darkness. The bullets struck the metal doorframe and the wall outside, producing sharp impact sounds. “Old Wu!” He heard the technician, codenamed “Glasses,” exclaim in a hushed, urgent voice. Lu Chenzhou’s peripheral vision caught the movement. By the faint, obstructed outline of light that might have seeped in from the corridor outside, he saw Old Wu, codenamed “Plumber,” clutching his shoulder, his body curled as he shuffled toward the back of a large air compressor. His movements were sluggish, leaving a dark trail behind him. In the air, besides the gunpowder smoke, a faintly sweet, metallic scent began to spread. Ricochet. Or stray bullet. “Report positions!” Lu Chenzhou swapped in a fresh magazine, his movements fast and steady, but a slight, involuntary twitch began at the corner of his left eye. He pressed his back against the cold metal cabinet, his breathing kept extremely low, his ears straining to catch any sound from outside the door. The suppressed gunfire from outside stopped. The other side was also observing, or repositioning. “I’m… okay.” Old Wu’s voice came from behind the compressor, laced with a suppressed groan of pain. “Grazed me… I can move.” “Anvil?” Lu Chenzhou asked the other team member. “Right front, behind the control console.” The voice of the team member codenamed “Anvil” was coarse and hoarse. “Door facing twelve o’clock. At least two firing points. The one on the left is reloading, interval… roughly seven seconds.” Lu Chenzhou’s mind raced in the darkness. The equipment room was rectangular. They were now near the inner side; the only exit was that bullet-riddled door. Outside was an L-shaped corridor; past the corner was the main passage leading to the auxiliary archive room. The other side was blocking the doorway and the corridor corner, holding an absolute crossfire advantage. The space was narrow, cluttered with obstacles. There weren’t many effective covers. Old Wu was wounded. Ammunition… He quickly felt his waist. Two spare pistol magazines left, plus the one in the gun, seventeen rounds total. The assault rifle had been left at the safe point on the upper level before entering the pipes for easier crawling. The situation for his team members wouldn’t be much better. The “accident” of the exploration team twenty years ago. Gu Zhixing’s icy warning. This was no accident. This was a welcoming ceremony. “Glasses,” Lu Chenzhou’s voice was calm, but each word seemed chiseled from ice. “Flashbang. Any left?” A brief silence. “…Yes. One last one.” “On my count.” Lu Chenzhou slowly drew in a breath, his lungs filling with the mixed smell of gunpowder and blood. His fingers unconsciously rubbed an old scratch on the gun’s surface, left there many years ago. “Three.” An extremely faint sound of shoe soles scraping against the concrete floor came from outside the door. They were advancing. “Two.” Old Wu’s breathing grew labored, interspersed with pained, restrained gasps. “One.” Lu Chenzhou abruptly leaned half his body out from behind cover, pistol aimed toward where he remembered the upper part of the doorframe to be—there was an exposed ventilation duct there. Almost His body pressed against the cold, grease-stained floor as he rushed toward the doorway. The tinnitus was sharp, the sounds of the world distant and distorted, but he could “feel” vibrations—the frantic footsteps transmitted through the floor. He rolled to the side of the door, his back against the wall, forcing his eyes open amidst the lingering visual afterimages and the noise of the ringing in his ears. The corridor was in chaos. One figure was clutching his eyes, staggering backward until he slammed into the opposite wall. Another figure was crouched at a corner, seemingly less affected, his gun muzzle rising as he searched for a target. Lu Chenzhou did not hesitate. He raised his arm, aiming his pistol at the chest of the staggering figure from an extremely close distance—less than five meters—and fired two rapid, precise shots. “Bang! Bang!” The figure jolted violently, falling backward, the weapon in his hand flying out and clattering against the wall. The gunman at the corner immediately opened fire. Bullets struck the wall and doorframe beside Lu Chenzhou, chunks of cement flying and grazing his cheek with a searing pain. He pulled back inside the doorway, bullets chasing after him, carving a series of sparks and holes into the iron door and the equipment inside. Suppressive fire. The other side didn’t dare charge over, fearing a second flashbang or an ambush. But on Lu Chenzhou’s side, ammunition was truly running low. He glanced at the remaining count displayed on his pistol’s screen: nine. Old Wu was wounded and losing blood. If they dragged this out, they would collapse without the enemy even needing to storm them. The main passage leading to the archives was tightly locked down by that corner gunman. In the corridor, the body of the man he had killed lay sprawled, blood slowly spreading from underneath, a viscous dark red under the dim light. The sweet, metallic scent in the air was thick and suffocating. Lu Chenzhou leaned against the bullet-riddled wall, breathing rapidly. Sweat mixed with the blood and grime on his face, stinging as it flowed into his eyes. He wiped it away, his gaze sweeping across the interior of the equipment room. They had to move immediately. They couldn’t stay here as live targets. His memory unfolded like a precise blueprint in the darkness. The floor plan of the equipment room… the ventilation duct layout… the underground structure… “Old Wu,” he lowered his voice, speaking toward the compressor, “can you still move? I need you to recognize the way.” A rustling sound, and Old Wu responded through gritted teeth, “…I can. Where to?” Lu Chenzhou’s gaze fell deep into the equipment room, near the dark area they had originally intended to enter, which led to the auxiliary archives. There, on the ground, was a slightly darker-colored square metal cover plate, its edges rusted, almost blending into the surrounding terrazzo floor. “Maintenance shaft,” Lu Chenzhou said, each word clear and cold. “Directly below connects to the underground utility corridor and the abandoned pump room. According to the blueprints, it should bypass the blocked area of the main passage.” He paused, the twitch at the corner of his left eye becoming more pronounced. “It’s also one of the ‘safety maintenance passages’ filed by the exploration team twenty years ago.” Lu Chenzhou led the way, climbing down first. The rusted steel rungs grated against his palms, emitting a teeth-gnashing groan; each time they bore weight felt like a test of this antique structure’s limits. The unique damp, moldy smell of the abandoned pump room below grew stronger, mingled with the scent of rust and the decay of some aged grease, rising heavily upward. Above their heads, the pursuers’ curses and the beams of their flashlights swung wildly. Someone had already leaned into the shaft opening. “Damn it, it’s so deep!” “Throw something down to listen!” Lu Chenzhou quickened his pace. Below him, Yan used his shoulder and back to support Old Wu, following with difficulty. Old Wu’s breathing grew increasingly labored, accompanied by a gurgling sound of blood froth; every gasp seemed to make the air in the entire shaft tremble. Tiezhen was last, climbing the slowest. His massive frame nearly filled the narrow shaft, each movement scraping off large patches of wall plaster and rust flakes. “How much farther?” Tiezhen asked in a low voice, the sound echoing faintly against the shaft walls. Lu Chenzhou didn’t answer. He counted the rungs of the ladder. According to the old blueprint’s markings… from here to the inspection port of the underground second-level pump room, the vertical distance was twelve meters, twenty-three rungs. He had already descended seventeen. From above came the whistling sound of something heavy falling. Lu Chen He quickened his movements, almost leaping downward. His palms were torn open by the rough, rusted iron, blood mixed with rust sticking to his hands in a sticky mess, but he felt no pain. The metal box against his ribs knocked against them with each movement, cold and hard. Finally, his feet were no longer dangling in empty air. His boots landed on solid ground—not flat, but an inclined, slick concrete slope covered in a thick layer of sticky sediment. A stronger, damp chill hit him, carrying the smell of iron and rotting algae. They had arrived. The abandoned pump house. The shaft here opened into a horizontal pipe outlet about 1.2 meters in diameter, leading into a broader expanse of darkness. Lu Chenzhou crawled out, his feet sinking into ankle-deep water. The water was icy cold. He immediately turned and reached up to help Old Wu down, who was being lowered by Glasses. Old Wu was almost unconscious, his body limp as mud. Lu Chenzhou and Glasses worked together to drag him out of the shaft and lay him flat on a slightly drier concrete platform. The flashlight beam swept over Old Wu’s right shoulder—the combat uniform around the wound was soaked through to a deep black, with a thin, dark red scab forming at the edges, but blood was still slowly seeping from the center. Old Wu’s face looked ashen gray under the stark white flashlight, his lips utterly bloodless. Anvil was the last to climb out, panting heavily, and plopped down into the water. “Fuck… this damn place.” Lu Chenzhou ignored him. He knelt beside Old Wu on one knee and tore open the first-aid kit. Hemostatic powder, pressure bandage, hemostatic sponge. His movements were fast and steady, but every touch made Old Wu’s body twitch involuntarily. “Hold on,” Lu Chenzhou said in a low voice, the sound unusually clear in the empty pump house. The moment the hemostatic powder was sprinkled, Old Wu arched his back violently, a crushed, beast-like whimper escaping his throat. His eyes widened to an extreme, pupils dilated in the dim light, staring fixedly at the concrete ceiling above, covered in cobwebs and water stains. Lu Chenzhou pressed the bandage hard against the wound, wrapped it, tied it off. The bleeding stopped for now, but Old Wu’s breathing became shallower, faster, his chest rising and falling so faintly it seemed it might stop at any moment. “Too much blood loss,” Glasses leaned in, his voice dry. “He needs to get to a hospital, fast.” “I know,” Lu Chenzhou said. He raised his hand, wiping the mixture of blood and sweat from his forehead with the back of it, then pulled the metal box from his tactical vest. The flashlight beam focused on the box. Dark gray, matte finish, with no brand or markings. Only that etched mark—“07”—showing clear grooves under the slanted light. On the side of the box, the tiny glass capsule was embedded in the metal casing, the pale blue liquid inside swaying slightly, like a cold, indifferent eye. “This thing…” Anvil leaned in to look. “What’s in it?” “Don’t know,” Lu Chenzhou said. He gently touched the latch with his finger. No lock, just a simple spring catch. But that capsule… “Acid trigger,” Glasses whispered. He crouched down, pulled a small UV light from his own bag, turned it on, and shone it on the capsule. “Look, there are extremely fine metal wires in the capsule wall, connected to the inside of the latch. If the box is forced open, or if someone tries to remove the capsule, the wires break, the acid flows out—probably something like hydrofluoric acid, can corrode the storage medium instantly.” “Can we dismantle it?” Anvil asked. Glasses shook his head. “Not without professional tools, and not here. Plus…” He paused. “The capsule itself might also be pressure-sensitive. Moving or shaking it too much could trigger it too.” Lu Chenzhou stared at the pale blue capsule. It was so small, yet like a cold gate standing between him and whatever was inside the box. What was in the box? “Case 07 · Old Case · Lu.” Gu Zhixing’s words slithered back into his ears like a venomous snake. The exploration team from twenty years ago. The same pipes. Wiped out. And this box, hidden in a ventilation duct layer that should have been filled in twenty years ago. Fresh damage marks. Waiting for him to retrieve it? Or waiting for him to trigger it? The twitch at the corner of his left eye became uncontrollable, even the muscles on half his face trembling slightly. He forced himself to take a deep breath, the cold, musty air flooding his The abandoned pump room was larger than imagined. It was an underground space nearly five meters high, originally meant to house massive pumps and motors, but now only rusted, reddish-brown steel bases remained, like the skeletons of giant beasts, silently standing in ankle-deep stagnant water. The walls were covered in dark green moss and water stains, and dust particles visible to the naked eye floated in the air. In the distance, a few rusted-shut iron doors could be faintly seen, along with a concrete staircase that extended upward, mostly collapsed. Above, the sound of climbing and hushed conversation came from the shaft. "No sound down there..." "Probably hiding. Let's go down and check." "Be careful, that guy Lu's marksmanship is weird." Lu Chenzhou made a gesture: disperse, find cover, prepare to engage. Tie Zhan lifted Old Wu and hid behind a massive abandoned motor base. Yan Jing crawled behind a pile of old wooden crates on the other side. Lu Chenzhou himself retreated behind a thick, rusted concrete load-bearing column, drew his pistol, and checked the magazine. Only two rounds left. He pressed his lips together and aimed the muzzle at the shaft exit. The footsteps grew closer. A flashlight beam swayed in the shaft, then a figure cautiously peeked out. Lu Chenzhou did not fire. He waited. A second figure also emerged, holding a gun, scanning the dark pump room warily. Both wore simple night vision goggles, but in this absolute darkness and environment full of complex obstacles, the goggles were of limited use. "No one?" the first person whispered. "Spread out and search," the second said. The two split up, one left, one right, stepping through the stagnant water, slowly moving deeper into the pump room. Their movements were professional, muzzles always following their line of sight, footsteps light and steady. Lu Chenzhou held his breath. His gaze locked onto the one on the left. That person was passing a pile of rusted pipes, less than ten meters from the load-bearing column where he hid. Now. Lu Chenzhou flashed out from behind the column. He didn't fire, but instead pounced like a ghost, utterly silent. His movement was extremely fast; by the time the other heard the water sound and turned alertly, he was already close. The other's reaction wasn't slow. The moment the flashlight went out, the darkness gained weight. It pressed down, pressing into the lungs, pressing on the eyelids. Lu Chenzhou heard his own heartbeat, slow, heavy, like a sledgehammer striking a deep well. He heard the gurgle of bloody froth churning in Old Wu's throat, heard the technician's teeth chattering faintly, heard that mix of scorched smell and cologne from the shaft opening above—drawing closer, slowly, surely. "Old Wu." He lowered his voice, almost speaking directly into the other's wooden ear. Old Wu's breathing hitched for a moment. "Can you walk?" "...Yes." One word, squeezed through clenched teeth, carrying the taste of blood. Lu Chenzhou's hand groped in the dark, touching Old Wu's shoulder. The bandage was already soaked through, warm liquid seeping out, sticking to his fingertips. He tore off fabric from his own inner lining, fumbling to add another layer of pressure dressing. The action was quick, but each knot was tied precisely. The friction sound above sounded again. Closer. Lu Chenzhou stuffed the shockproof bag into the innermost pocket of his tactical vest, zipping it all the way up. The hard drive pressed against his chest through several layers of fabric, the glass capsule positioned right over his heart. The cold touch felt like a venomous fang. He grabbed Old Wu's arm, his other hand supporting the technician's shoulder. "Up." The weight of three people shifted slowly in the dark. Lu Chenzhou's knees pressed against the cold, damp concrete floor, his elbow scraped past rusted pipes, a burning sting spreading across his skin. Relying on memory—the last glimpse from the flashlight earlier—he moved toward the depths of the pump room. There should be a row of abandoned filter tanks back there, with a maintenance passage behind them. Five meters. Maybe six. Suddenly, a clear metallic tap came from above. *Ding.* Like someone lightly tapping a wrench against the ladder. The technician's breathing stopped abruptly. Lu Chenzhou's hand tightened sharply, signaling not to move. He let go of Old Wu, lowered his body, pressed his ear to the ground. Vibrations came from deep within the concrete—very faint, but rhythmic. One, two. Not tapping. The sound of shoe heels landing. More than one person. They were coming down. Lu Chenzhou pushed himself up, dragging Old Wu and the technician toward the filter tank area, rushing desperately. In the dark, he collided with something hard, a dull pain shooting The flashlight beam swept into the pump room, piercing the darkness. The light jumped between rusted pipes and water-filled depressions, like a searchlight sweeping over a prisoner-of-war camp. Lu Chenzhou held his breath, shrinking another half-inch deeper into the shadows. The beam stopped three meters from the filter tank. "Blood," a man's voice, low, carrying a certain professional flatness. "Went that way," another voice, younger. The beam shifted, illuminating the exit on the other side of the pump room. Footsteps followed, gradually fading away. Lu Chenzhou didn't move. He counted his own heartbeats. Thirty. Sixty. One hundred twenty. From afar came the creak of an iron door being pushed open, followed by a few indistinct words of conversation. The content was unclear, but the tone was relaxed—like hunters confirming their prey had fled into a preset encirclement. The technician's body relaxed slightly. Lu Chenzhou's hand pressed down on his shoulder. *Don't move.* Another half-minute passed. The sound of the iron door closing came, followed by the metallic clang of the bolt locking into place. *Click.* Very crisp. The footsteps vanished completely. The pump room sank back into darkness, but that trace of cologne still lingered in the air, so faint it was almost imperceptible, yet it pricked the olfactory nerve like a fine needle. Lu Chenzhou slowly released his hand. "They... left?" the technician whispered in a breathy voice. "Locked the door," Lu Chenzhou said. "The exit is sealed." The technician's breathing grew rapid again. Lu Chenzhou offered no further explanation. He groped for Old Wu's shoulder; the bleeding beneath the bandage seemed to have slowed somewhat, but his body temperature was dropping. Too much blood loss. Hypothermia. Infection. Any one could be fatal within hours. He pulled out the encrypted radio; the screen was completely black. Pressing the power button for a long time yielded no response. The forced frequency adjustment earlier had drained the last bit of power. Communication was cut. The only retreat was locked. The hard drive in his hand might be a trap. The twitch in the corner of Lu Chenzhou's left eye started again. This time more pronounced, the muscle beneath the skin seeming to have a will of its own, tugging at the nerve, once, twice. He raised his hand, pressing his thumb hard against the corner of his eye until the twitch was suppressed by the pain. Then he released his hand, feeling inside his leg pouch for the last glow stick. He cracked it. A cold, phosphorescent green light spread out, illuminating the narrow space behind the filter tank. Old Wu's face looked like a wax figure under the light, his lips purple. The technician's eyes were wide open, the pupils reflecting the green light like a frightened animal. Lu Chenzhou inserted the glow stick into a rusted bolt hole. He pulled out the shockproof bag, unzipped the seal, and retrieved the hard drive. In the glow, the pale blue liquid inside the glass capsule shimmered with an eerie luster, like the eye of some deep-sea creature. "Check this," he handed the hard drive to the technician. "Don't touch the capsule. Tell me if the data interface has been tampered with." The technician took the hard drive, his hand still trembling. He leaned close to the glow stick, pulled a miniature magnifying glass from his pocket, and pressed it against the interface on the side of the hard drive. Breathing sounds amplified in the confined space. Lu Chenzhou tore open an energy gel packet, squeezed it into Old Wu's mouth. Old Wu's Adam's apple bobbed as he forced it down. His eyes were half-open, pupils focusing slowly. "Old Wu," Lu Chenzhou lowered his voice. "Look at me." Old Wu's eyeballs turned toward him. "We'll get out," Lu Chenzhou said. "I promised." The corner of Old Wu's mouth twitched, as if smiling, or convulsing. He didn't speak, but his uninjured hand lifted and grabbed Lu Chenzhou's wrist. Gripped tightly, nails digging into the skin. Lu Chenzhou didn't pull his hand away. He turned his head, looking at the technician. The technician put down the magnifying glass, his face paler than before. "The interface... has been tampered with," his voice was dry. "There are minute solder residue traces between the fourth and fifth pins. Not factory workmanship. And also... the grounding screw on the casing, the marks from being unscrewed are new, not more than a week old." Lu Chenzhou took the hard drive, flipping it over. Under the glow, the edge of that screw indeed had an extremely shallow scratch, incongruous with the surrounding signs of aging. "Can it be read?" he asked. "If... if it's just solder Another imitation. The ledger from ten years ago, and now this hard drive. The same method, the same malicious precision. Gu Zhixing was telling him: I know your past, I remember every trap you've ever seen. And then what? Lu Chenzhou's thumb rubbed against the edge of the hard drive. The metal was cold, but the location of the capsule, through the rubber shock-absorbing sleeve, transmitted a faint temperature difference—a bit cooler than the surrounding area. Was liquid slowly evaporating? Or was there a tiny battery inside consuming power? He suddenly flipped the hard drive over and brought it close to the glow stick. Around the edge of the recess where the capsule was embedded, there was a circle of extremely fine scratches. Not left by mechanical processing, but hand-carved, very shallow, as if made with the tip of a needle. Under the fluorescent light, those scratches formed a symbol. An inverted "V," with a short horizontal line connected below it. Lu Chenzhou's heart violently contracted. He had seen this symbol before. Not in the evidence room, but much earlier—ten years ago, when he had just entered the profession, following his mentor Zhou Zhengping to handle a smuggling case. Among the confiscated goods was a batch of antique clocks. On the back of the movement of one of the clocks, the same symbol was engraved. His mentor had stared at that symbol for a long time back then, finally saying only one sentence: "This is the mark of 'Jinghua'." "Jinghua?" "An organization. Or... a codename. They specialize in handling things that 'should not exist'." His mentor placed the clock into an evidence bag. "Don't record—" The dampness from the concrete floor seeped through his pant legs, cold like needle pricks. Lu Chenzhou pressed the last loop of bandage tight; Old Wu's convulsions finally stopped, leaving only the sound of his breathing, rough like a bellows, in his throat. The astringent smell of hemostatic powder still hung in the air, mixed with rust and mold, pressing heavily against his chest. The technician leaned in, the flashlight beam converging into a small, pale spot of light on the hard drive's casing. He held his breath, the tip of his nose almost touching the glass capsule. "Pale blue... the liquid isn't moving, it's sealed shut. The casing has a micro-current induction, the seams... here, see? There are chemically etched lead grooves connected to the capsule." His voice was extremely low, as if afraid of disturbing something. "Acid-triggered. If the casing breaks, the acid flows into the circuit layer and can burn the storage chips to slag within three seconds. Designed very... intricately." "Can it be disassembled?" "Without professional tools, impossible. And..." The technician swallowed. "This thing... it doesn't look like something you can buy on the market." Lu Chenzhou didn't speak. He stared at the capsule; the pale blue looked like the venom gland of some deep-sea creature under the light. The hard drive casing was cold, but after holding it for a while, his palm actually generated an illusory sense of warmth—as if the thing sealed inside had life of its own, was breathing. Right at that moment, from the darkness above, came a *zizi* sound. Not a gunshot, not footsteps. It was the dry, crackling noise of electric current passing through old coils, vibrating a speaker cone. The sound came simultaneously from all four corners of the pump room, from those square wooden, sheet-metal speakers embedded high on the walls, long sealed shut by cobwebs and dust. Then, Gu Zhixing's voice rang out. Not through the encrypted earpieces, but through this broadcast system that was probably older than everyone present, belonging to the building itself. His tone was still steady, even carrying a hint of appropriate clarity and elegance, as if speaking at an academic conference, only that elegance was mixed with a cold, undisguised sense of control. "Mr. Lu," he said. "And everyone... you've worked hard." Lu Chenzhou's body instantly tensed, his spine rigid like a plank of wood. He raised his hand, signaling the technician to turn off the flashlight. Darkness swallowed everything once more, leaving only the voice from the speakers overhead and Old Wu's heavy panting beside him. "No need to be nervous," Gu Zhixing continued; there seemed to be an extremely faint sound of paper rustling in the background. "I just wanted to confirm whether everyone is... safe and sound. After all, from the equipment room to the maintenance shaft, and then to this pump room, the path isn't easy. Especially while carrying a wounded man." He knew. He knew every step. Lu Chenzhou's left hand slowly clenched, his nails digging into the old wound in his palm, the dull pain keeping him alert. "The thing you've got," Gu Zhixing's voice lowered by half a tone, yet each word became clearer, "that hard drive labeled '07.' How does it feel? Don't you feel... unprecedentedly close to the truth?" Lu Chenzhou's breath hitched for a moment. "Let me guess." Gu Zhixing spoke unhurriedly. "The casing is ice-cold, it feels heavy in the hand, and on the side there's a... hmm, rather incongruous little glass device. Your people have probably told you already—that's an insurance, or rather, a self-destruct switch. Unfortunately, it's not there to prevent you from getting it, but to prevent... those who shouldn't see it from seeing what's inside." The technician, Fang Mu, suddenly turned his head toward Lu Chenzhou. In the darkness, only his abruptly sharpened breathing could be heard. "What's inside?" Lu Chenzhou finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, even a bit hoarse, but in the silent pump room, every word was like a stone thrown into a deep well. "The exploration team's report from twenty years ago? Or... something else?" A very soft sigh came through the speaker. "Mr. Lu, you're always like this. Direct, efficient, straight to the core." Gu Zhixing's tone gave no indication whether it was admiration or mockery. "But I advise you not to hold overly high expectations for the 'contents' just yet. Or rather, don't hold any single expectation for it." "What do you mean?" "Meaning," Gu Zhixing's voice suddenly took on a strange, almost pitying note, "the things on that hard drive could be the answer you've sought for ten years, your only hope for overturning the case, the key for you to break this cycle. But it also could be... a meticulously prepared poison. The 'truth' it presents to you might be enough to let you see certain people's faces clearly, but it might also, simultaneously, cause you to forever lose the qualification to question them." The pump room was deathly silent. Only Old Wu's breathing, growing increasingly rapid and shallow. A chill crawled up from Lu Chenzhou's tailbone, spreading upward along his spine. He stared at the hard drive in his hand—though he could see nothing in the dark. That ice-cold metal casing now seemed to have gained a temperature, a scorching one. "You're threatening me," he said, his tone frighteningly calm. "No." Gu Zhixing denied it crisply. "I'm stating a fact, a... 'rule of the game.' Mr. Lu, everything that's happened tonight, from the moment you stepped into the ventilation ducts, hasn't been a simple infiltration or ambush. It's a test. Testing whether you... have truly set foot on the path those people from twenty years ago walked. Testing what choice you'll make when facing a predicament almost exactly the same as theirs." He paused, as if savoring the silence his words brought. "Now, the test enters its final stage." Gu Zhixing's voice became steady and rational again, like an examiner presenting options. "You have the hard drive in your hand, and a severely wounded teammate by your side. The main passage to the surface has been completely sealed off, and my people are sweeping floor by floor. But..." his words took a subtle turn, "there are always some... 'gaps' that are less than orthodox, belonging to the memory of old architectural blueprints. I know where they are, and I can even... temporarily render the surveillance in certain areas 'inactive' for a few minutes." "Conditions." Lu Chenzhou spat out two words. "Smart." Gu Zhixing chuckled. "The conditions are simple. You have two choices." "First, leave the hard drive behind. Place it on the concrete floor where you're sitting now, then take your teammate—if you can still carry him—and leave through the blocked drainage outlet on the east side of the pump room. I'll ensure that path is... unobstructed for the next fifteen minutes. You can evacuate safely, and tonight's events will be treated as if they never happened. You continue being the expert 'hired' by the Shen family, and we continue maintaining our superficial... cooperative relationship." Lu Chenzhou's lips pressed into a thin line. "Second," Gu Zhixing's voice abruptly turned cold, that thin veneer of elegance shattering instantly, revealing the bottomless chill beneath, "take the hard drive with you, and attempt to break through the next layer of... 'welcoming ceremony' I've prepared for you. Of course, you can continue to bring your teammate. But I must remind you, the difficulty of the next layer is not on the same scale as the skirmish in the equipment room just now. Moreover, regarding the hard drive itself... what might happen under severe vibration, electromagnetic interference, A "zizi" static noise came from the speaker, lasting for a few seconds. Then, Gu Zhixing's voice sounded one last time, carrying a formulaic calmness that came after finishing an explanation: "You have three minutes to consider. After three minutes, whichever path you choose... the game will enter the next round." "Good luck, Mr. Lu." "Zila—" The broadcast cut off abruptly. Complete dead silence, even more profound and heavier than before. Darkness like solidified asphalt enveloped the breaths of the three living people and the gasps of the dying man inside the pump room. The technician groped in the darkness, grabbing Lu Chenzhou's arm. His fingers were ice-cold, trembling violently. "Brother Lu... we..." Lu Chenzhou didn't move. He sat on the cold, damp cement floor, leaning against the equally cold, damp wall. His left hand held that shell-cold hard drive, its interior possibly boiling or freezing. By his right side was Old Wu's scorching, blood-soaked shoulder. Three minutes. Antidote, or poison? A path to survival, or a gamble? Gu Zhixing's words slithered into his ears like venomous snakes, coiling around his reason. This wasn't a threat; it was something even more cruel—a dead end built upon "voluntary choice." He gave you choices, but every one of them led to an abyss already marked with a price. Lu Chenzhou slowly raised his left hand. In the absolute darkness, the hard drive was only a vague, heavy outline. But that pale blue glass capsule seemed to have burned an imprint onto his retina, glowing faintly. Poison... yet also an antidote. He suddenly remembered that almost imperceptible tremor in Gu Zhixing's final words, hovering between pity and mockery. That wasn't an act. It was a trace of complex... excitement from a trap-setter witnessing a chess piece finally stepping into its designated position? Why? Unless... A cold thought, like a blade breaking through the water's surface, suddenly sliced across his mind. —Unless this "test" was never meant to stop him from getting the hard drive. On the contrary, it was to ensure he "must" get the hard drive and, under extreme pressure, make "that" choice. What Gu Zhixing wanted wasn't for the hard drive to be left behind. What he wanted was for Lu Chenzhou to "actively" take it with him and walk into the next trap. Because only then could the thing inside the hard drive—whatever it was—truly serve its purpose. Become a knife thrust at someone, or... a noose tightening around Lu Chenzhou's own neck. Cold sweat seeped without warning from Lu Chenzhou's temple, sliding down past his temples and dripping into his collar. He had fallen into the trap. From the moment he stepped into the pipe, no, from even earlier, from the moment Gu Zhixing "was forced" to agree to Plan B, he had already walked into this game. Tonight's ambush, sacrifices, dead ends, the binary choice... all of it was to push him to this moment, force him to grasp this cold, dangerous "hope."