The oppressive darkness, dozens of stiff corpses, fallen comrades, the throbbing pain all over their bodies…
The four Hunters were already on the verge of collapse. The tenants’ final desperate words still echoed in their ears; those helpless, dying gazes haunted their vision.
The blood staining their clothes had long gone cold. That slimy, icy sensation clung to their skin, relentlessly fraying their taut nerves—making even a moment’s forgetfulness impossible.
The mission? Lu Yunzhi? All cast aside.
They only wanted to escape this place of despair.
Avoidance, fear—emotions Hunters shouldn’t feel.
Yet only one thought remained:
*If we just leave here… everything will end, right?*
So when they stood at the stairwell and saw the woman in white, their first instinct wasn’t how to kill her—but how to run.
They’d barely escaped the fourth-floor room. They wouldn’t go back.
The team leader shouted and dashed upstairs first.
Compared to the others, his mind stayed relatively clear.
Going down was suicide. The woman in white blocked the exit—who knew how many more tenants lurked above or below? If she controlled even a dozen more to surround them, and joined the fight herself… they’d lose all ten lives here.
As he hurried up, his eyes narrowed.
*I absolutely cannot die here.*
The situation looked temporarily safe—but it wasn’t.
The tenants they’d cleared were just minor monsters. The real threat lay ahead.
If controlling tenants made her this dangerous… how strong was she alone? Had she reached Class A?
Didn’t matter. In their current state, they stood no chance.
Escape with her present? Nearly impossible.
But good news: he didn’t need to defeat her. Urban legend horrors like her were often bound to their scene. Power weakened beyond it. (Though they wouldn’t wander out freely.)
If he could just reach the apartment building’s exit…
*Where would that time and opportunity come from?*
“Liu Yongkang! How’s your recovery? Rooftop’s ahead—rest and regroup the moment we’re up!”
Breaking silence, the leader spoke. The three behind him, unsure how to answer, just nodded.
“Understood, Captain.”
“Stay sharp! That white-clad monster’s physically weak—only strong in mental control. Once we recover, we still have a chance.” His hand settled on the rooftop door handle.
“The open space buys us time if tenants follow.”
“Hold on! It’s just a mutated monster. Nothing to fear!”
He pushed the door open and stepped onto the rooftop.
A bone-chilling night wind hit them. Above stretched the deep, starless sky.
Visibility was poor—cluttered with AC units and solar heaters.
The leader frowned, scanning the area.
A sense of foreboding prickled his spine.
Back in the fourth-floor room, the tenants’ Soul Threads had all stretched upward through the corridor.
But the woman in white had appeared *downstairs*.
Their retreat was rushed, details blurred—but one thing was certain: *she had no Soul Threads at all.*
*Could the mastermind… not be her?*
His steps slowed. The thought startled him.
*Maybe… because all tenants are dead, she has none.*
As he tried to calm himself, something caught his eye.
A little girl.
From behind: a vintage black-and-white gothic dress, matching lace hair accessories. Petite, delicate—a picture-perfect little girl under normal circumstances.
Yet here she was.
Sitting on the rooftop’s very edge, tiny legs dangling over the void.
She turned at his gaze. Calm. Expressionless. A palm-sized, exquisitely delicate face.
Then he saw them: pointed ears. Dark crimson slit pupils—utterly inhuman.
Her eyes were too large for her face. Beautiful, yet deeply unsettling.
Like a doll come to life.
*(At least, that’s what the leader thought.)*
“Captain?”
The others noticed his frozen stance. Following his line of sight, they saw her too.
“Were those tenants… your doing?” The leader’s breath slowed. His free hand inched toward the blade at his waist.
“Guess.” Jiang Qianyu rose from the edge, smiling.
“Thirty-five people… Know this? In the last hour and a half, you ended thirty-five lives with your own hands.”
She studied the four Hunters. All at the end of their rope—except the leader. A seasoned veteran. Sharper in skill, steadier in mind.
Jiang Qianyu stepped forward. Raised a small hand.
In the dim moonlight, faint threads glimmered in her palm.
A flick of her index finger.
Black, semi-transparent Soul Threads snapped taut.
Too late to react.
The threads sliced silently across his arm. It went limp.
*A piece of his soul—severed.*
Worse: the same threads now densely encircled them all.
“Thank you for the meal.”
Jiang Qianyu smiled.
An icy chill ran down their spines.
