222: Chapter 222 Gray Shadow

The edge of the city was like a palette wiped haphazardly by a giant with a dirty rag.

Low, cluttered self-built buildings, crooked billboards, exposed brick walls, tangled wires, and an air that never dissipated, mixed with the stench of coal smoke, inferior grease, and excrement.

This was a forgotten corner, a gray zone where the mainstream gaze refused to linger, and it was also the temporary "hunting ground" and "sanctuary" that Ling Ye had chosen for the moment.

After leaving that tenement building, he spent an entire half-day, like a true, homeless wandering soul, traversing, circling, and observing through maze-like alleys, vacant lots piled with construction waste, and semi-abandoned shantytowns.

He avoided any main roads that might have surveillance cameras, and stayed away from shops that still seemed to have sporadic human traffic.

What he needed was a true, forgotten corner.

Eventually, he found an ideal temporary stronghold on the edge of a shantytown right next to the ruins of an old brick and tile factory.

It was a shack haphazardly constructed from waste wood, rusted sheet metal, and asbestos tiles, sandwiched between two equally dilapidated, crumbling houses, with its back against the towering, weed-overgrown ruined wall of the brick factory.

The shack itself seemed to have been occupied by scavengers before, but now it only contained some moldy straw, tattered sacks, and a few rusty empty cans.

The "door" of the shack was a piece of felt with holes, and there was an inconspicuous crack on the side through which he could glimpse the alley outside.

More importantly, behind the shack, right against the wall, there was a waist-high hole covered by weeds and trash, which led directly into the ruins of the brick factory, providing a better hiding place and escape route.

Ling Ye carefully inspected the inside and outside of the shack, confirming there were no traces of recent human activity, nor traps or dangerous "Neighbor" (such as lurking wild dogs or something worse).

He simply cleaned up the inside of the shack, used the tattered sacks he found to pad a relatively dry corner, and then hid his meager supplies behind a loose wooden board.

He placed his pipe cutter within reach and used straw and rags to slightly cover the entrance and the side gap, leaving only the necessary observation hole.

After finishing this, he curled up on the sacks in the corner and entered "Star Visualization" again, guiding the warm current to repair his body.

It was quieter here than the tenement building, with only the whimpering of the wind passing through the ruins and the faint, clanging sound of sheet metal swaying on the remaining chimney of the brick factory in the distance.

The air was filled with dust and a musty smell, but to him, accustomed to the foul air underground, this could even be considered "fresh."

For the next two days, Ling Ye strictly followed the plan for the "hibernation" phase.

He almost never left the shack unless necessary.

During the day, he spent most of his time regulating his breathing to heal his injuries, while observing the alley outside and the occasional passerby through the gap.

He saw a few scavengers who were just as ragged, an old man pushing a creaky, broken cart and hawking suspicious "processed food," and twice, people who seemed to be self-organized "community defense members" wearing ill-fitting uniforms walking by in a slouching manner.

He saw no military vehicles, nor anyone suspected of being "Plainclothes Agents" or involved in "Cleaning."

His disguise was effective.

Even if someone occasionally glanced at this dilapidated shack, they would only see a dirty, exhausted figure curled up in the shadows and immediately look away.

In this area, there were too many such people, so many that they were like rubble on the side of the road, not worth a second glance.

At night, when the "Gray Curtain" (his name for this perpetually lead-gray sky) became deeper, he would be a bit bolder.

Using the cover of night, he would leave the shack and move within an extremely limited range.

Once, he crept to an abandoned public faucet on the edge of the shantytown (which surprisingly still had an extremely faint drip), collected half a bottle of murky water in a broken plastic bottle he found, and after returning, filtered it with a barely usable rag he had found, then boiled it (using a broken iron can he picked up and carefully collected dry grass and wood shavings to start a tiny fire in a sheltered spot behind the shack).

Another time, he ventured near a site piled with construction waste, rummaged through it to find a few rusty but sturdy steel bars, sharpened one end with a stone to make a crude spear, which had a longer attack range than the pipe cutter.

He also picked up a more tattered but wider-brimmed baseball cap and a tattered canvas jacket that smelled of fish, replacing the overly conspicuous work clothes he was wearing.

Food was the biggest problem.

The compressed biscuits were quickly exhausted.

He had to try to find edible things from the trash heaps—some breadcrumbs that weren't too moldy, half a pack of expired, rock-hard biscuits, and even risked fishing out some relatively "clean," discarded vegetable leaves and bones from a swill bucket at the back door of a restaurant (repeatedly washed with collected rainwater and then boiled).

Every meal was a test of his will and stomach.

Hunger, like a slowly burning flame, scorched his stomach and also sharpened his nerves.

His injuries, under "Star Visualization" and crude self-treatment, were slowly but firmly improving.

The most severe burns on his back began to scab over and no longer oozed pus.

The wounds on his arms and the back of his neck had basically healed, leaving behind pink new flesh.

The dull pain in his internal organs had disappeared, and his breathing was much smoother.

Although he was still far from a full recovery, his basic mobility and a certain degree of combat capability had been restored.

It was probably equivalent to five or six tenths of his healthy state.

On the evening of the third day, he felt he could begin the initial attempt of the "Observation and Contact" phase.

The target was not the facilities of The Plainclothes Organization (insufficient intelligence, too high risk), but the information network at the bottom of the city.

He needed to understand the current situation, especially regarding "Cleaning," the incident in the Old Factory District, and any rumors that might be related to him.

He chose a relatively "lively" intersection deep in the shantytown.

There were a few "shops" built from broken wooden boards and linoleum that would light up with dim yellow bulbs at night, selling inferior cigarettes, bulk liquor, and some daily necessities of unknown origin.

In the vacant lot in front of the shops, there were often some idlers squatting, smoking, playing cards, or talking in slurred voices.

This was a hub of information, and also a place of trouble.

Ling Ye did not approach the crowd gathered together.

Like a true, timid, and reclusive wanderer, he curled up in the shadow of a dark corner across the intersection, his head buried very low, his tattered canvas jacket wrapped tightly around his body, holding half a piece of picked-up, hard-as-rock steamed bun, gnawing on it in small, mechanical bites.

His ears, however, were pricked up straight, raising "Energy Perception" to the limit, capturing every syllable drifting in the wind.

The voices were noisy, mixed with vulgar jokes, curses about prices, lewd comments about some woman, and some meaningless drunken talk.

Ling Ye patiently filtered through them.

"... Heard something happened in the east factory district again? A lot of people died?"

"Bullshit! That was the soldiers holding a drill themselves, it exploded! It's blocked off, not allowed in."

"Drill my ass! My cousin's second son works in scrap collection in that area, said he saw the soldiers carrying out many body bags, black ones! Not military uniforms!"

"Shh! Keep it down! Want to die? If those 'Grey Dogs' (referring to the community defense team) hear you, they'll drag you off to dig sand!"

"Dig sand? Where is there still sand to dig now? They've all gone to fill 'that hole,' right? Hehe..."

"Fill it, my ass! It's getting bigger the more they fill it! I heard that, inside... something ran out..."

"Ran out? What thing? Mutated rats?"

"More sinister than rats! My third aunt's nephew's brother-in-law's coworker, working the night shift over there, said he saw a shadow on the wall, no feet, floating, and it was glowing blue! Scared the piss out of his pants!"

"You're just bragging! Glowing blue? You think it's will-o'-the-wisp? I think you've had too much to drink!"

"Believe it or not! Anyway, that area is evil, I wouldn't go there for any amount of money!"

Ling Ye's heart stirred slightly.

The rumors were spreading, and although twisted and exaggerated, the core—the abnormality in the Old Factory District (Dark Nest), the military blockade, possible casualties, "blue light"—coincided with parts of what he knew.

This showed that the ordinary public was not completely ignorant, and fear and speculation were fermenting at the bottom.

At this moment, another slightly more sober voice cut in, keeping it very low:

"Brothers, stop talking about that useless stuff. Let's talk about something real. It seems the 'Cleaning' people have been looking for someone these past two days, and the reward isn't low."

"Looking again? For who? Didn't they say they were looking for some kid who stole secrets last time?"

"This time seems a bit different. I heard from Old Liu who helps out at the scrap yard that the people who came to ask around wore plain clothes, but that demeanor, tsk, doesn't look like regular police or soldiers. They asked really specifically, not just about looks, but also asked... whether anyone had 'special' injuries on their body, or if anyone had 'abnormal behavior,' like being exceptionally strong, running exceptionally fast, or... eyes glowing at night or something."

"Glowing? Are you fucking making up stories?"

"It's true! Old Liu said those people have eyes so sharp, looking at people like they could see through their bones. They also carried strange machines that beeped. Old Liu was scared to death and didn't dare say anything."

"Who the hell are these people? Could they be some... 'special department' newly established by the higher-ups? Specifically to catch... those 'things'?"

"Who knows. Anyway, stay far away. If you see a new face, especially one that's young and strong with injuries on them, steer clear. Don't invite trouble."

Ling Ye's heart sank.

The description was too specific.

"Plainclothes Agents," "special machines," "asking about injuries and abnormal behavior"... This could almost certainly be confirmed as those from The Plainclothes Organization he encountered at the G-7 Node!

They were not only monitoring the pollution nodes, but also searching for him at the bottom of the city in a more active and detailed way!

They knew he was injured and might even suspect that his body had undergone some kind of "mutation" or "special ability"!

Their research on "the key" and pollution obviously made them extra sensitive to energy anomalies and physical mutations.

His previous battles, the destruction of the nest, and the subtle energy characteristics brought by the xuanyuan ring and the Ancient Ring mark, very likely left behind some kind of "trace" or "pattern" that they could detect!

He must be more careful.

Any behavior that might expose "abnormalities" must be eliminated.

He listened for a while longer, mostly worthless gossip and complaints.

Just as he was preparing to leave and return to the shack, a drunken, slurred voice caught his attention.

"... Damn... that, that broken pipe... I, I'm not crawling into it again..."

"Went to steal cables again? Old Wang, have you no regard for your life?"

"Steal, steal my ass! Ran, ran into a ghost! In the, in the sewer... there, there was something calling... and, and it was glowing green, damn it! Almost, almost scared my soul out..."

"Green light? Not blue light?"

"Green, green! Like, like ghost fire! And, and there was a stench... smellier than a dead rat..."

"Which sewer?"

"Just, just the, the abandoned sewage outlet behind the Old Textile Factory in the west... used to lead to the river... now it's blocked, blocked halfway... it's evil in there..."

Ling Ye's spirit lifted!

A new clue?

Green light?

Not the signature dark blue of the abyssal eye, but green?

And in the sewer?

Was it another kind of pollution?

Or... something else?

The Old Textile Factory was in the west, closer to the relatively "safe" area, but it might also be on the edge of the The Plainclothes Organization monitoring network.

It was worth noting.

He silently noted down the location (the abandoned sewage outlet behind the Old Textile Factory), and then, taking advantage of the deepening night as the crowd gradually dispersed, he, like a true shadow, silently left the corner and merged into the deeper darkness of the shantytown.

On the way back to the shack, he was extra vigilant, circling several times to confirm he was not being followed.

Crawling into the shack and blocking the entrance, he finally leaned against the cold wall and slowly let out a breath.

Information had been collected.

Although fragmented, it was very valuable.

The Plainclothes Organization was searching for him at the grassroots level in a more detailed and dangerous way.

They possessed more intelligence than he had anticipated.

Terrifying rumors about the "Dark Nest" were spreading, but were being suppressed and twisted by the authorities.

A new, noteworthy location had appeared: the abandoned sewage outlet behind the Old Textile Factory, where there was "green light" and strange noises.

The night was as dark as ink; inside the shack, there was only his faint breathing and the whimpering of the wind that never ceased in the ruins in the distance.