220: Chapter 220 Gray Dawn

The humid air of the back alley, mixed with the sour stench of garbage and the smell of vehicle exhaust from afar, rushed toward him.

To Ling Ye at this moment, this foul atmosphere carried a hint of a strange, eerie "sense of reality" that belonged to the normal world.

He had finally left that dark, bizarre, and deadly underground world, standing once again on the ground—which, while dilapidated, was at least part of the human world.

But he had no time for reflection.

The pain in his body, the hunger in his stomach, the thirst in his throat, and the scorching intelligence in his arms were all urging him to act immediately.

He pulled his brim low, hunched his back, and mimicked the posture of those exhausted, numb, low-level workers, walking out of the back alley at a steady pace and blending into the sparse flow of people on the street.

This street seemed to be a side road connecting the Industrial Zone and the old residential area.

On both sides were mostly small shops with rolling shutters closed, Warehouses with "For Rent" advertisements posted, and one or two cheap motels with pale lights, where a few men with numb eyes squatted at the entrance.

Few pedestrians were about, and occasionally, camouflaged military vehicles or dilapidated transport trucks drove by, splashing the stagnant water on the ground.

No one spared a second glance at this dirty, slightly limping "worker."

On the edge of this city shrouded in disaster and chaos, there were too many people like him.

As Ling Ye walked, he scanned his surroundings with the corner of his eye, looking for a place to temporarily shelter and resupply.

He needed food, water, and medicine, but more importantly, a place where he could safely treat his wounds, read the intelligence, and think about his next steps.

A grocery store with a narrow storefront and dim lighting appeared in his line of sight.

The owner was a thin old man, sitting behind the counter and dozing off.

The shelves were sparsely stocked with expired canned goods, crumpled cigarettes, cheap bottled water, and some basic necessities.

Ling Ye walked in.

The owner raised his eyelids, swept a murky gaze over him, and showed no reaction.

"Boss, I need to buy some things."

Ling Ye lowered his voice, making his tone sound hoarse and exhausted.

He selected a few bottles of the cheapest bottled water, two packs of individually wrapped compressed biscuits, a pack of cheap painkillers, a roll of gauze, a small bottle of iodine, and a worn-out work vest hanging in the corner that was stained with oil but still relatively intact.

When checking out, he deliberately let the cloth strip wrapped around his fingers—used to cover the "xuanyuan ring"—show, which was stained with mud and dark red dried blood.

The old man glanced at his hand, then at the items he was buying, said nothing, and quoted a price.

Ling Ye paid with the meager change he had found at his previous hideout (fortunately, he had the habit of keeping some emergency cash in the lining of his bag).

The old man took the money, muttered something about "the times not being peaceful," and lowered his head to doze off again.

Carrying the meager supplies, Ling Ye continued forward.

He needed to find a place to spend the night.

Cheap motels seemed convenient, but they required identity registration (even if management was lax), and they were crowded and unsafe.

He preferred to find an empty, abandoned residence.

Crossing two streets, he entered a more dilapidated residential area.

Most were old, four- or five-story tube-style apartment buildings, with many broken windows, ragged clothes hanging on balconies, and the air filled with the smell of mold and excrement.

Many houses were clearly unoccupied.

He chose a building that looked the most dilapidated, with the entrance piled high with garbage and the access control (if there ever was one) long broken.

The building was very quiet, with only the faint sound of a baby crying and the noise of a television coming from somewhere.

He climbed up the stairs covered in graffiti and urine stains, all the way to the top floor—the fifth floor.

There were three households on this floor, two of which had doors locked tight and covered in dust.

The door to the innermost unit was ajar, and it was pitch black inside, without a sound.

He pushed the door open gently.

A strong smell of dust and mold rushed toward him.

It was a small one-room apartment with simple furniture, covered in dust and cobwebs, clearly abandoned for a long time.

A piece of window glass was broken and blocked with cardboard.

Some empty wine bottles and waste paper were scattered on the floor.

This was the place.

He pulled the door shut behind him and propped it up with a broken cabinet he found (not expecting it to prevent theft, just for early warning).

Then, he walked to the corner at the far end of the room, which was relatively hidden and close to the broken window, where a faint light filtered in, allowing him to observe the situation downstairs.

He put down his things, walked to the kitchen sink (as expected, no water), and used the newly bought bottled water to carefully clean the dirt and blood from his face and hands.

The cold liquid stung his wounds, bringing sharp pain, but it also perked him up.

Then, he took off his ragged coat and work vest, revealing his body covered in burns, abrasions, and bruises underneath.

The condition of his wounds was more serious than he had anticipated.

The burns on his back were quite large, with blisters already forming in some places and the surrounding area swollen and red.

The wounds on his arms and the back of his neck had also reopened, oozing blood.

The dull pain in his internal organs also intensified after the strenuous exercise.

He gritted his teeth, carefully disinfected the wounds with iodine, the intense stinging making cold sweat bead on his forehead.

Then he sprinkled on the painkillers (better than nothing) and carefully bandaged them with gauze.

The whole process was slow and difficult, especially the wound on his back, which he could only blindly smear and bandage by feel.

After finishing, he was soaked in cold sweat, nearly collapsed.

He leaned against the cold corner of the wall, panting for a while, before picking up the compressed biscuits and a bottle of water, eating in small bites.

The dry, hard biscuits went down with the cold water, difficult to swallow, but with food in his stomach, he finally regained a bit of strength.

Outside the window, the sky remained that unchanging leaden gray, making it impossible to tell if it was evening or dawn.

The city's outline in the distance was hidden in the smog, with only sporadic lights and the occasional column of smoke rising, whether from cooking fires or something else.

The low, rhythmic roar of machines never stopped; it was the pulse of the city maintaining its minimum operation.

Further away, to the southeast, the color of the sky seemed even darker, with a faint, dark red halo swirling—that was the direction of the Dark Nest.

Ling Ye withdrew his gaze and took out from his bosom the record sheet he had obtained from the underground room of the substation, which had become soft from sweat.

By the faint light outside the window, he carefully read every word on it again.

"G-7 Sub-Resonance Node," "Sample Activity B+," "Pulse Synchronization Rate with Main Nest (Dark Nest) 87.3%," "the key Frequency Simulation Injection," "Purification," "IN-1147," "Unrecorded Sub-Pollution Diffusion or Independent Generation Point"...

These terms swirled and combined in his mind, piecing together an increasingly clear picture.

The Dark Nest was not an isolated source of pollution.

It was like a huge, constantly pulsating core, and there might be many more "sub-nodes" like the G-7 Node underground in the city.

These nodes existed in energy resonance with the Dark Nest; were they its tentacles, branches, or... "testing grounds"?

The organization that the Plainclothes Agents belonged to was clearly systematically monitoring, researching, and even attempting to "simulate" and "control" these nodes, including trying to influence them using the frequency of the key.

And the nest he had destroyed (IN-1147) seemed to be an "accident," a newly emerged pollution point that they hadn't recorded.

What did this mean?

Was the pollution of the abyssal eye dynamically spreading, constantly creating new outbreak points?

Or were there other factors causing the abnormal spread of the pollution?

"the key"... They mentioned the simulation of "the key" frequency.

This meant they likely knew of the existence of "the key" and might even possess some data or samples of it!

They tried to influence the sub-nodes with the simulated "the key" frequency, but the result was only "slight energy feedback" and "sample stability decline," failing to achieve the expected "guidance" or "suppression" effect.

Was it because the simulation wasn't accurate?

Or because... the mechanism of "the key" wasn't just a simple frequency match?

And the word "Purification" was cold and efficient.

Clearly, for nodes that were out of control or no longer needed, they would not hesitate to "Purify" them—just like they tried to do to the G-7 Node.

This was a form of erasure, a kind of "trace elimination."

So, was he, an "unidentified person" who had destroyed an "unrecorded node," merely an accidental interference factor in their eyes, or was he "pollution" itself that needed to be "Purified"?

Ling Ye felt a chill.

What he was facing was not just a powerful, incomprehensible abyssal eye pollution source, but also a mysterious organization that was well-organized, technologically advanced, ruthless, and also researching or even trying to utilize the power of the abyssal eye.

What was the relationship between this organization, the military, and the Cleaning?

What was their ultimate goal?

He carefully folded the record sheet and hid it close to his body.

This piece of paper was important intelligence and also dangerous evidence.

Next, he took out the crystal radio, put in a new battery, set it to the lowest volume, and carefully turned the tuning knob.

Noise, static, fragments of signals with unclear meanings occasionally floated by.

He searched patiently.

Finally, near the frequency of the previous "Dawn City Joint Control Channel," he captured intermittent broadcasts:

"...Repeat, lockdown order for the Old Factory District in the southeast and the surrounding underground pipe network... Curfew time extended... All residents should not go out unless necessary..."

"Warning: Local energy abnormal fluctuations detected on the periphery of the Old Factory District (G-7 Node area), possibly accompanied by instability of the underground structure.

Please stay away from related areas.

Rescue and engineering teams have been dispatched to handle it..."

"Missing person notice (encrypted band) interference is severe... Characteristics are as follows... Highly dangerous... If discovered... Report immediately... Reward..."

Lockdown, warnings, searching for someone... The commotion he caused was indeed not small.

The "abnormal energy fluctuations" in the G-7 Node area were blamed on "instability of the underground structure," which might be The Plainclothes Organization's way of covering up the "Purification" procedure.

And the search for him was still continuing, and the wording was even more severe.

Ling Ye turned off the radio.

The city's dragnet for him was tightening.

The incident at the G-7 Node might cause them to further expand the search scope.

This temporary hideout could not be kept for long.

He needed a new plan.

Before his wounds recovered and his supplies ran out, he had to find a safer place to stay, obtain more intelligence about "the key," The Plainclothes Organization, and the truth about the Dark Nest, and find a way to contact Wang Hao and Sun Li (if they were still safe).

But direct contact was too risky; he needed to find a safe intermediary channel, or first obtain enough leverage to prove his value and safety.

He thought of Zhao Haichuan.

Although that veteran had left, the map fragments and snippets of conversation he left behind might imply some infighting within the Cleaning, or some people who could offer help.

But finding them was equally fraught with difficulties.

Outside the window, the leaden gray sky seemed to brighten slightly, but it was not sunlight, but a more uniform, more oppressive grayish-white.

A new day, or rather, another day struggling under the clouds of disaster, had begun.

Ling Ye leaned against the corner of the wall, closed his eyes, and entered "Star Visualization" again, guiding the faint warm current within his body to flow slowly through his injured Meridians and muscles, accelerating the healing process.

At the same time, his brain was spinning rapidly, thinking about the direction of his next actions, potential risks, and that faint, but necessary-to-pursue path out.

The "xuanyuan ring" on his finger emitted a constant coolness.

Deep in his Soul, the mark of the "Ancient Ring" acted like a distant star, giving a faint but firm guidance.