Chapter 58: First Fortress 10

Gu Xianqing moved ahead at a faster pace. She was very familiar with the office’s location—she’d been there more than once.

They successfully bypassed the door’s lock and password via the ventilation ducts. An He peered through the vent, observing the situation. Wen Yewang had beaten them there, already pulling out a chair and sitting down in front of the office desk.

This wasn’t an ordinary office.

The space was massive, more like Wen Yewang’s personal laboratory. Harsh fluorescent tubes blazed overhead, illuminating rows of silver workbenches.

From left to right stood an operating table with a sink, two surgical beds, three unidentified machines glowing red, and several specimen cabinets displaying unknown organs. Beyond the equipment were two locked small compartments.

It looked like Wen Yewang conducted private experiments here on the regular.

An He felt a wave of relief that the surgical tables were empty—no gruesome scenes of guts spilled open in terror.

But in the corner loomed two complete humanoid skeletons, their bones disassembled and reassembled. Black and white bones intertwined like some artistic installation, radiating an ultimate, eerie beauty.

The entire room made the desk seem like the smallest, most insignificant feature.

An He shifted her gaze and quickly spotted the target below-left: unlike the surgical gear, these were black iron lumps wrapped in cables—a long rack of chassis stacked with about ten black square boxes. Those were the DVR machines.

Dozens of cables converged neatly behind the rack, wired flawlessly to Wen Yewang’s desk.

An He had seen desks like this at scavenger sites—smashed open, they revealed motherboards and wiring inside. The whole thing was one giant workstation.

No time to examine closely. Below, Wen Yewang had already connected two DVR machines, summoning a holographic screen and keyboard before hitting the power button.

No time left!

An He watched Wen Yewang’s every move with urgency. No matter what, she couldn’t let her access the surveillance logs.

They’d moved through the ducts—no match for Wen Yewang’s speed. No chance to hide in the office beforehand.

The only way to stop her now was to kill her.

An He reached for the gun at her waist—the pistol snatched from a First Fortress infiltrator, her sole ranged weapon.

It held three Dum-Dum Bullets left, enough to obliterate the woman and the desk in one go.

But firing would expose their position completely.

And once Wen Yewang died, Babel Tower would self-destruct—no survivors here. An He figured Gu Xianqing wasn’t exaggerating on that point.

Not a good option.

So what now?

An He’s nerves taut as wires, she looked up at Gu Xianqing for a solution. That’s when she noticed Gu Xianqing had held the same pose since arriving.

Gu Xianqing wasn’t watching Wen Yewang. Her eyes were fixed on the tightly shut compartment to the right.

What’s wrong? An He prodded Gu Xianqing’s shoulder. Gu Xianqing glanced briefly, and in that instant, An He read her eyes.

Fury burned there, sweat beading on her forehead like she was enduring pain.

But it wasn’t just anger—there was a thrill of vicious pleasure too.

“Found it,” Gu Xianqing mouthed silently, ignoring An He further as she locked eyes on the compartment again.

What An He didn’t know was that Gu Xianqing had been covertly using her Innate Talent since entering Babel Tower, even though it was suppressed.

Another thing Gu Xianqing hadn’t told her: First Fortress had rigged the suppression devices as a warning to her, inflicting mental damage.

Gu Xianqing felt her brain stabbing with pain whenever she activated it—a real, skull-splitting agony. It peaked once they reached Wen Yewang’s office.

She’d avoided action because she was truly vulnerable in this tower.

Which was exactly why she’d risked it to accompany An He.

Now she was certain: this pervert Wen Yewang had stashed the suppression device right in her own turf.

Time ticked mercilessly. Wen Yewang logged into the system.

An He had no choice—she drew her gun.

Gu Xianqing took a deep breath, sweat trailing down her cheek to hang from her jaw.

They each had their priorities.

Gu Xianqing closed her eyes. Truth be told, she didn’t hate the pain at all. It kept her mind razor-sharp.

For the first time, she unleashed Dream Devour without restraint, on a massive scale. The surge of psychic power briefly shattered the suppression device’s limits.

Every dormant researcher in Babel Tower felt the stomach-dropping freefall of plummeting off a cliff at the same instant.

Simultaneously came the click of An He flicking off her pistol’s safety, a drop of sweat hitting the vent grille.

But those sounds were drowned out by a piercing alarm.

Beeeep—

The alarm blared. A triangular alert popped on the holographic screen, red warning lights bathing the room in crimson.

One second later, Dream Devour was fully quashed, the alarm silenced, and quiet returned.

But it was enough.

Wen Yewang’s face twisted in shock. Forgetting the footage, she bolted up and shoved open the compartment door.

The room door stood ajar. Gu Xianqing shifted at the vent for a better view—and was surprised to find no massive modification rig inside.

Just a person.

A person lying on a bed.

One side hooked to nutrient feeds, the other to mechanical lines—all feeding into a small machine. The adjacent screen crawled with dense EEG readings.

Wen Yewang roused her.

“What’s going on? Intrusion?”

“Report, Professor.” The voice was weak. “Two seconds of intense psychic assault. I blocked it successfully.”

Wen Yewang slammed a palm on the bedhead, fingers flying over the screen. Seeing the intrusion peak hit unprecedented heights left her speechless in shock.

Without the alarm, no one would’ve detected the “mass assault” on Babel Tower in those two silent seconds. Such a stealthy psychic strike was… utterly shocking.

Wen Yewang paced wildly, hand trembling under her chin. Two seconds later, her grim expression flipped to manic glee.

“Is it her?” she demanded loudly. “Tell me it’s her!”

Before the bed’s occupant answered, Wen Yewang clapped. “No wonder the morgue had issues—I knew it was her!”

The youth on the bed said sheepishly, “Similar MO, but I can’t confirm. Never this bold before. Sorry—my mental barrier slipped.”

“No worries, good girl. Not your fault.” Wen Yewang showed no blame, but her words cut deep: “Still, I need to crank the neural stim. Adapt quick.”

Gu Xianqing frowned from the ceiling vent.

No doubt, this youth wielded potent psychic Innate Talent—turned into, or volunteering as, a weapon tailored against her.

Those tubes didn’t look removable on a whim. The outline under the sheet wasn’t as robust as other Embedded Spirit Bodies either. Likely, the test subject stayed confined here.

Just “lying there” to fulfill her duty.

Doesn’t look easy.

Gu Xianqing couldn’t fathom it.

Even peak psychic ability couldn’t run 24/7—that’d kill her. Those machines probably kept her brain active, amplifying the talent—Wen Yewang’s inventions, not to be underestimated.

Now Gu Xianqing knew her blocker: Bullet. Gritting through the pain, she flashed a faint smile, eyes alight with the same thrill.

Whoever this youth was, she would kill her.

Gu Xianqing turned to signal An He for a shot—but An He wasn’t watching the compartment.

She was hunched at the vent, fixated on the DVR rack. In the blind spot behind it, a teleported Raven folded its wings, pecking cables like a giant black rat.

The moment Wen Yewang left the desk, An He had acted.

Two wire casings bitten open carefully. The Raven dangled the exposed copper suspended, a centimeter gap between.

Still not secure enough. Using the Raven’s eyes, An He clocked the cameras—then dropped a White Phosphorus Button from the vent.

The Raven snatched it mid-fall, gliding low to tuck it under the desk.

Then it hid behind the machines.

Only then did An He meet Gu Xianqing’s gaze.

Gu Xianqing eyed her silently, then quirked a smirk. No coordination just now—they’d each chased their own goals, zero synch.

Yet they’d both succeeded. Perfect teamwork.

What a match, Gu Xianqing thought smugly. An He saves me so much trouble.

In the compartment, Wen Yewang tweaked settings and patted the youth’s shoulder. “Keep watch. I’ll check if it’s her.”

Wen Yewang sat back, hit login, and connected.

The machines hummed—then sparks erupted!

Short-circuited wires smoked acridly. Arcs leaped to the bottom chassis—boom.

Wen Yewang jumped.

She watched a specimen cabinet shatter from the blast. Glass jars tumbled, organs splattering into mush. Preservation fluid spread, methanol igniting and worsening the short.

Like the first firecracker, explosions chained: chassis blew, desk leg warped, flames roared inexplicably.

The desk ignited fully, fire surging to devour the office. Babel Tower’s fire alarm triggered; pounding fists hammered the door outside.

Wen Yewang stood amid the blaze, hems scorched full of holes. She didn’t flee—instead stared puzzled at the fire’s origin, the wall charred black.

Guards outside panicked. Only Wen Yewang could enter her office—if she died, they wouldn’t last a second.

“Professor Wen!” The crowd swelled.

As someone eyed forcing the door with Innate Talent, it swung open, smoke billowing.

Wen Yewang smiled at the threshold. “Fetch Min He, quick. Oh—and tell her to unleash the dogs!”

…

Then—a massive boom from the compartment.

Only An He and Gu Xianqing knew: Bullet’s doing. Gu Xianqing had taken An He’s gun, pried off the vent, and—hanging upside-down through fire and smoke—nailed a precise Dum-Dum shot into the compartment.

Ravens swarmed the smoke post-blast, shards in beaks plunging into the test subject’s chest.

An He upheld their deal: Gu Xianqing’s entry condition was An He destroying the “device.”

Subject and machines, incinerated together.

Before guards rushed in, Gu Xianqing retracted. “Oops, got a bit carried away. We’re in for it now.”

An He shot a skeptical look. Oops? Like last time’s “accident”?

Same path again.

An He covered mouth and nose—smoke pouring into the vent. They held breath, retreating into the ducts. Leaving the lab, An He heard a clear bark below.

Damn—the trickiest Embedded Spirit Body’s here.

“We can’t stay in the ducts. Gotta move.” An He hunted an exit. Smoke thickened; too slow, and suffocation loomed.

“This way.” Gu Xianqing elbow-smashed a panel, leaping from the ceiling. An He followed.

Gu Xianqing didn’t choose to crawl into the Research Lab. Instead, she landed in the corridor, and An He activated her Time Shatter Talent. The two sprinted wildly down the hallway.

Babel Tower was a circular building, its passageways forming ring-shaped bands around the tower’s core. The inner side led to the central floors, with open levels every couple of stories, while the outer ring housed the labs.

The corridor was wide, with pillars for cover—and fortunately, most of the guards had rushed to the office to fight the fire. At that moment, An He was twice as fast as anyone else.

To keep Gu Xianqing in sync, An He wrapped her arms around Gu Xianqing’s waist once more—just as Gu Xianqing had hoped. An He had become her warrior, charging ahead and clearing the path.

Her warrior.

The Wild Dog behind them caught their familiar scent and gave chase again, the two sides circling Babel Tower one behind the other, fifty meters apart.

No wind blew, yet An He whipped up a howling gale with her speed. Her footsteps synced with her pounding heartbeat. She had only one thought: Faster. Even faster!

They had kicked up a racket, but they couldn’t let themselves fall into the First Fortress’s hands.

Unfortunately, their luck hit a screeching halt. Guards still held position on the opposite side of the ring. An He spotted three of them up ahead.

Keep running, and they’d run headlong into them.

“This way.” Gu Xianqing grabbed An He by the hand in turn, leading her once more.

They left the corridor and slipped onto a wide platform overlooking Babel Tower’s core. It was like the second balcony of a theater—completely exposed. If the Wild Dog caught up, they’d be sitting ducks.

Three meters below their feet sat a dozen massive round vats filled with red liquid—the real 17th floor, the research zone. Experimental equipment crowded the space like a factory floor.

Gu Xianqing released An He and took a step forward. An He instantly knew what she was about to do—she was going off the deep end again.

One more step, and Gu Xianqing would plummet into the water.

No telling what kind of experimental reagent sloshed below. Murky, thick, with a nose-stinging reek that carried even from this height.

If it was some strong acid solvent, it would melt them down to bare bones—or worse. They might die right there, in a suicide plunge.

An He didn’t think jumping was a good idea.

Gu Xianqing glanced back then, flashing An He an arrogant grin. “You dare?”

Seeing the flicker of hesitation in An He’s eyes, Gu Xianqing didn’t wait for an answer. She spread her arms and leaped, tail-flipping like a fish into a smooth dive.

Crazy.

An He had lost count of how many times that thought had hit her: She’s insane.

The instant Gu Xianqing touched the surface, An He’s heart rate spiked to its limit. She pictured Gu Xianqing melting away like in her dreams, rotting into a Withered Bone.

It nearly tore a scream from her throat, nearly made her try to stop it—but no sound came.

She was stunned, pulled along, heart racing countless times by Gu Xianqing’s unpredictable moves.

Soon, the barking drew near. An He forced her heartbeat steady.

Like stepping onto that track. She had to trust Gu Xianqing again.

An He held her breath and leaped into the void!

Her eyes stung wide open as she desperately searched for Gu Xianqing. But it was like plunging into a red ocean—nothing but crimson everywhere.

A prickling itch spread across her skin amid the tension, growing worse. She couldn’t tell if it was her blood boiling or the solution actually corroding her.

For a moment, she thought Gu Xianqing was already dead.

Then hands seized her from behind, gripped her shoulders, and swung around to her front, arms looping her neck.

In the murky solution, An He saw Gu Xianqing who seemed to blend into the red—smiling leisurely, utterly fearless.

She cupped An He’s face, as if sweetly asking, Having fun, little lamb?

For that one moment, An He admitted it: she was floored.

…

Wen Yewang stood at the Research Lab door as all the arriving guards fought desperately against the blaze. She didn’t help. She didn’t even ache over her lost work.

Standing amid the firelight, she burst into manic laughter, wild with excitement. “She’s back!”

“Who?” The firefighters froze at her tone.

Wen Yewang’s eyes gleamed. Flames silhouetted her figure from behind. She turned, answering their casual question with relish.

“Gu Xianqing, God’s Apostle. She’s come to kill me.”