The battle was over. The morning after Hels vanished from the sky, Hu Hao quietly packed his gear.
No dramatic farewell. No attempt to hide it. Just a handwritten note left on the kitchen table:
"I'm heading out for a while. Going to check the residual nodes in the southwest. Not sure if I'll make it back, but I'll stay in touch if I can."
Zhao Yang read the note in silence. He folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket.
Chen Mo was sharpening his gauntlets in the courtyard. When he heard the news, he simply nodded. "He's got his own path to walk."
Lin Lan spoke softly. "He's not running away. He just… needs space."
Lu Ye stood by the window, eyes fixed on the horizon. "He knows we won't stop him."
No one questioned the decision. No one blamed him. Hu Hao hadn't left the squad—he'd just stepped away to do what he believed needed doing.
The team moved through the ruins, heading toward the city center. It was eerily quiet. The streets were clean. The buildings untouched. As if the apocalypse had politely skipped this part of town.
Lu Ye led the way, the Eye of the World scanning continuously. His stride was steady. His gaze, unreadable.
"This place…" he murmured. "Feels like it's being maintained."
Zhao Yang frowned. Blood mist crept along the ground beneath his boots. "There's a smell of rot in the air," he said. "But it's not from corpses."
Qin Hao closed his eyes, sensing. "There's life nearby. Faint. Masked."
They stopped in front of a three-story villa. The gate bore the name Zhang Residence. The garden was withered. The air hung heavy with unnatural stillness.
Lu Ye raised a hand. "Form perimeter. I'll make first contact."
The door creaked open. A young man stepped out, dressed in a pristine white suit. Handsome. Graceful. Warm eyes. A smile that landed perfectly—just enough to be polite, not enough to be real.
"You've finally arrived." "I've been expecting you."
His voice was low and magnetic, laced with a strange kind of welcome— the kind that felt rehearsed. Too smooth. Too perfect.
Zhao Yang's pupils narrowed. His blood mist recoiled instinctively. His vampiric instincts whispered: This man wasn't alive.
Zhang Ming's aura carried no warmth. But it pulsed with something else— a blood structure that didn't belong to any known biology.
Lu Ye didn't respond. He tilted his head slightly, activating the Eye of the World. The scan returned static: Blurred. Chaotic. Unreadable.
Zhang Ming chuckled. "You want to see me clearly?" "Then you'll have to see yourself first."
Lu Ye's gaze didn't shift. "I only look at what needs to be handled."
Zhang Ming invited them inside. His movements were elegant—almost unnaturally so. He served tea. Offered seats. Spoke gently, as if genuinely welcoming strangers.
But his eyes lingered on each of them for different lengths of time— like he was measuring, dissecting, cataloging.
"You're espers." "I find your kind… fascinating."
Zhao Yang sat in the corner, never taking his eyes off Zhang Ming. A faint red glow shimmered at his fingertips. Blood mist stirred beneath his skin.
Zhang Ming never looked at him directly— but kept mentioning "blood," "conversion," "loyalty."
Chen Mo's voice was cold. "What do you want?"
Zhang Ming smiled. "I just want to understand you." "After all, you're the last variables in this city."
Lu Ye remained silent—until Zhang Ming tried to step closer. He raised a hand. Space folded slightly, forming an invisible barrier.
"You want to understand us?" "Fine." "But you don't need to get that close."
Zhang Ming paused. Then his smile deepened.
"You're the leader, aren't you?" "Calm. Controlled. Dangerous." "I like people like you—hard to kill."
He led them through the villa. Antiques lined the walls. Portraits stared from every corner.
In a hidden chamber, he revealed rows of glass pods. Inside lay half-human, half-zombie figures. Their eyes were hollow. Their chests still rose and fell.
"They're not zombies." "They're my converted creations."
Lin Lan was stunned. "You can turn humans into zombies?"
Zhang Ming smiled. "Not quite zombies. More like… vessels of loyalty."
Zhao Yang spoke quietly. "You're a virus?"
Zhang Ming shook his head. "I am order." "You are chaos. I am purification."
Lu Ye stood before the pods, eyes steady. "You're not order." "You're control." "And control… always breaks."
Zhang Ming's gaze flickered—just slightly. "You're clever." "But clever people… die very neatly."
Zhao Yang stood suddenly. Blood mist exploded outward in a ring.
Zhang Ming turned—finally looking him in the eye. "You… you're not a typical esper."
Zhao Yang's voice was low. "The blood in your body—it's not yours."
Zhang Ming smiled. "You can smell that?" "Then you're more interesting than I thought."
The squad chose to leave.
Zhang Ming stood at the door, watching them go. His smile never faded.
"You're interesting people." "I hope next time we meet… you still look human."
The door closed slowly behind them. A faint scent of decay lingered in the air.
Lin Lan whispered, "He's not insane. He's a designer."
He Xuan said nothing. Just quietly reassembled his disc— as if sealing away something he didn't want to name.
Zhao Yang stared at the distant villa, eyes cold. "He's already begun."
Lu Ye didn't look back. He simply said:
"We walked away." "But he's marked us." "Next time… it won't be a conversation."