Just as Ouyang wondered what lay within Zero District, the Mosterians living inside harbored the same curiosity.

The Dragon Seal clutched in her hand glowed white, resonating with the dark gray stone gate ahead. A creaking sound echoed.

The gate opened.

Ouyang slipped cautiously through the stone archway. Only after stepping fully outside did her tense shoulders relax slightly.

Without this pass, she might have ended up like the Mosterians who died trying to escape Zero District.

The gray-black gate sensed the Dragon Seal’s departure and began grinding shut. Ouyang, eager to flee this cursed place, suddenly shuddered—a prickling sensation of being watched from behind.

Her hidden unease wasn’t paranoia.

She turned sharply. Inside the gate stood a young man around 180cm tall. Golden hair, bright and tousled, framed handsome features. Eyes deeper than rubies gazed gently ahead. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he stood smiling—a stillness that felt deeply unsettling.

Especially when Ouyang noticed his eyes shared her exact blood-red hue. *Could this Blood Clan youth be the one from the phone call? Sent to ‘see me off’?*

She quickly dismissed the thought. She hadn’t broken any of his three rules. And with Zero District’s Dragon Seal on her, he couldn’t step outside.

*Even if he stares, he can’t grab me. Or boil me for dinner.*

Glaring at the figure, Ouyang flipped him off, spun around, and bolted out of Zero District.

Now, she felt like a student on summer break—or an office worker suddenly freed from overtime. A happy bird, she practically skipped through the thickening fog, putting distance between herself and Zero District. Her androgynous frame hummed a sweet, girlish tune that echoed in the mist:

*"Yahooo~♪ I’m out~♪ I’m free~♪ Taking me home~♪..."*

*If he planted cameras in my room, he definitely tampered with this iPhone 13.*

Wary of tapped calls, Ouyang decided to trek back to Northern District first, then find a payphone to call Brother Long.

Leaving Zero District, only one worry gnawed at her.

She hurried to the warehouse where it happened. Overnight, the scene had been scrubbed spotless. News reports mentioned nothing—no accidents, no disappearances near Zero District.

*Did Brother Long cover it up? Or did the Mosterians clean their own mess?*

Walking toward the nearest vehicle, a chilling realization struck:

Nine Undead had appeared in Northern District overnight. Someone inside Xiaomo’s household must have smuggled them in.

If Brother Long hadn’t demanded the corpses be returned to Zero District, Northern District would’ve been the massacre site.

*Back home, I’m telling Brother Long. We find the traitor.*

After walking roughly 200 meters, Ouyang spotted a row of shared e-bikes. She scanned one open and sped toward Northern District—only to face a brutal obstacle.

Sunlight ahead felt like a personal betrayal.

Reaching a hand into the sun’s rays, her fingers sizzled like cured meat on a grill.

Spring sunshine refreshed humans, but this body crumbled under its touch.

From the shade of a roof, Ouyang stared desperately at the bridge ahead: two 1,000-meter steel towers strung with thick cables, spanning a kilometer of open sky.

Only two options:

Wait for sunset.

Or ride across at 20km/h, accepting death.

Zero District was behind her. Northern District gleamed ahead. She checked her phone: *1:00 PM, March 19, 2077.*

No more waiting.

Pulling her sun-protective hoodie tight, she cinched the drawstrings until only her sunglasses showed. Tucking her hands into sleeves, she planted her feet on the pedals and gunned the throttle.

Thankfully, no witnesses saw the horror:

A skeletal figure wreathed in smoke, riding a bright orange e-bike toward Northern District.

After surviving the bridge, Ouyang stumbled into a fast-food joint. At KFO, she spent 5,900 Fire Vouchers on the trending "Madoka Bucket Meal." She bit into the Spicy Chicken Burger—

—and spat it out instantly. Nearby customers flinched, eyeing their own burgers in alarm.

Ouyang clamped a hand over her mouth, forcing calm. She wouldn’t draw attention.

Staring at the half-eaten burger, she sniffed cautiously. Lettuce, sauce, spicy chicken—it smelled right. But the taste? Like shoving a colorless, flavorless blob into her mouth.

She tested the fries and cola. Same void. Only the cola’s icy fizz offered relief.

Starving yet unable to swallow, she glared at the fragrant food. *Disgusting.*

*Blood Clans in stories just drink blood...*

Her sunglasses slipped as she eyed the tender necks around her. Her lips parted slightly—fangs glinting—before she snapped her hands over her mouth and fled the crowded shop.

*Haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon...*

She shook her head, fighting dizziness. Her stomach felt fused to her spine.

Only one solution remained.