223: Chapter 223 Hibernation

Wind passed through the cracks in the shed's wooden planks, emitting a faint, sobbing hiss.

Outside, the shantytown occasionally echoed with a few short barks from dogs or the blurred cursing of a drunkard, only to quickly return to dead silence.

Inside the shed, Ling Ye sat cross-legged on the pile of moldy burlap sacks that served as his bed, eyes slightly closed, breathing long and slow, nearly stagnant.

The rumor of the "Green Light" sewer outlet was like a small stone thrown into stagnant water, sending a ripple of vigilance through his heart.

But that slight restlessness was quickly suppressed by stronger reason and survival instinct.

Now was not the time to take risks.

Intelligence was important, but only if one had the life to use it.

The Plainclothes Organization had clearly woven a tighter net, spreading it across the city's underbelly.

Any unusual move could lead to falling into that net.

That "Green Light" rumor itself was suspicious.

Green light did not match the known "abyssal eye" contamination (dark blue, pale white).

It might be something else, but it could also be a rumor, or even... a trap.

A bait specifically designed for those sensitive to "anomalies" and trying to uncover secrets.

He could not gamble.

At least, not while his injuries were unhealed, his condition was not at its best, and he was completely ignorant of that area, blindly stepping into the unknown.

The highest priority remained "Dormancy" and "Recovery".

The plan had to be strictly executed.

He marked the idea of investigating the "Green Light" sewer outlet as a "low-priority item for observation" and suppressed it deep in his heart.

His current focus was entirely on healing, observation, and perfecting his disguise and survival foundation.

Over the next few days, Ling Ye's life was rigidly routine.

During the day, unless necessary, he never left the shed.

Most of his time was spent in the state of "Star Visualization".

He poured almost all his remaining Mental Energy into guiding the faint glow of the "Ancient Ring" mark and the cold aura of the "xuanyuan ring", letting them act like the most precise craftsmen, bit by bit repairing the damaged meridians, scorched flesh, and shaken internal organs in his body.

The process was slow and painful; every time energy flowed through the injured areas, it was accompanied by tearing pain and itching.

But he endured it with astonishing willpower, sweat soaking his tattered clothes, only to be slowly dried by his body heat.

Only when hungry, thirsty, or needing to handle physiological needs would he briefly interrupt.

Food remained the biggest problem.

The compressed biscuits had long since run out, and searching for "edible things" in trash heaps and slop buckets became a daily "hunt" filled with humiliation and risk.

He developed his own set of "foraging" rules: only choose relatively enclosed, sheltered trash points; act before dawn or late at night; never conflict or make contact with any scavengers; whatever was found must be repeatedly washed and boiled for a long time.

Even so, the rough, spoiled, and foul-smelling food continued to test the limits of his stomach and further slowed the recovery speed of his already weak body.

But he had no better choice.

Limited pocket money had to be saved for the most critical moments, such as buying medicine or more reliable supplies.

The black market was too risky; he didn't even have the qualifications to get close right now.

The Water Source was relatively easier to solve.

Although the abandoned public faucet dripped slowly, with persistence, plus the occasional rainwater he collected, after simple filtration and boiling, it could barely meet the minimum drinking and cleaning needs.

Using a broken tin can he found and a few stones, he built an extremely simple, almost flameless "stove" in a hidden corner behind the shed, specifically for boiling water and heating food on a small scale.

The smoke was controlled to a minimum, dissipating into the weeds and ruins of the Old Textile Factory, making it hard to detect.

At night, when the "Gray Curtain" completely enveloped everything and the shantytown fell into a deeper, uneasy sleep, Ling Ye would begin his limited "observation" activities.

He no longer approached the crossroads that served as an information hub, instead moving like a ghost within a hundred-meter radius around the shed.

He was familiar with the layout of every alley, the shadows of every pile of debris, and every possible hiding spot and observation point.

He memorized the living patterns of a few fixed "Neighbors": the old man living alone who always coughed in the middle of the night, the couple who often argued in the early morning, and a few young people with uncertain movements who were suspected to be thieves or addicts.

He also began to consciously "perfect" his disguise.

In addition to his tattered and dirty appearance, he deliberately let the grime on his hands and face accumulate thicker, using stove ash collected mixed with a little mud to smear on exposed skin, covering the newly formed, lighter-colored scars.

When he walked, he deliberately adopted a slight, inconspicuous limp caused by "injury" (imitation, not real), and his shoulders were slightly hunched, making his whole posture more decadent and inconspicuous.

He even used a half-pencil he found to practice writing distorted, meaningless numbers and symbols on scrap paper he picked up—this was an unconscious action that a down-and-out, perhaps mentally unstable, bottom-tier wanderer might have.

Vigilance was always kept at the highest level.

He no longer easily trusted any "quiet".

Every shift in the wind, abnormal sounds in the distance (such as car engines appearing at times and places they shouldn't), or even the sudden cessation of rat activity near the shed would make him instantly wake from a doze or visualization, entering a combat-ready state, gripping the sharpened steel rebar spear, listening intently until he confirmed it was safe.

He only dared to turn the radio to the lowest volume and listen briefly when it was deep in the night and he was completely covered by a quilt.

The broadcast content was much the same: curfews, controls, warnings about the unstable situation around the "Dark Nest" (the wording becoming increasingly official and vague), and continuous search notices for "suspicious persons" (the description remained the same, but the broadcast frequency seemed to have decreased; perhaps they had adjusted their strategy?).

He would take out the G-7 record paper every day, reading every word on it repeatedly in the extremely weak light, trying to squeeze more information out of it.

"the key frequency simulation," "synchronization rate," "phase delay," "Purification"... These terms repeatedly combined and deduced in his mind.

He began to try to understand the possible operational mode of The Plainclothes Organization: monitoring networks (fixed and mobile), data analysis, intervention experiments on "sub-nodes," tracking and eliminating abnormal individuals...

It was like a precise, cold combination of scientific research and military, whose goal was clearly not just to control or eliminate "abyssal eye" contamination, but also included deep-level research, utilization, and even... "control" in some sense.

On the fifth night, when Ling Ye finished a long round of visualization and breath adjustment and slowly opened his eyes, he felt a difference.

What came from deep within his body was no longer that pervasive torture intertwined with sharp or dull pain, but a heavy yet solid sense of fatigue.

It was like trekking long distances with a heavy sandbag; although tired, his bones and muscles were warm and strong.

Most of the scabs on his back had fallen off, revealing pink, newly grown skin, with only a few of the deepest places still feeling tight and itchy.

The wounds on his arms and the back of his neck had healed well, leaving only faint red lines.

The stagnation in his internal organs had completely disappeared, and his breathing was long and steady.

Although the weakness caused by hunger and malnutrition still existed, the "shackle" sensation originating from the injuries that affected his movement and combat had been greatly alleviated.

He estimated his condition had recovered to about sixty to seventy percent of his Peak.

Enough for long-term stealth, medium-intensity combat, and handling most emergencies.

Of course, it was still far from his Peak state, especially the recovery of his Mental Energy and the "Ancient Ring" mark, which was even slower.

It was time.

The stage of dormancy could come to an end.

The "observation and contact" stage could enter a more proactive phase.

He needed more intelligence, better supplies, and... to conduct an extremely cautious, long-distance preliminary reconnaissance of that "Green Light" sewer outlet to judge its authenticity and value.

He gently moved his limbs, his joints making a faint crackling sound.

His gaze turned to the observation crack in the shed that let in a faint light.

The "Gray Curtain" outside still hung low, but a new day, or rather, a new phase, was about to arrive along with this eternal, gloomy sky.

He needed to formulate a detailed reconnaissance plan.

Objective: the abandoned sewer outlet behind the Old Textile Factory.

Principle: absolutely no contact, long-distance observation, retreat immediately if there is anything unusual.