To avoid wasting time on sleep, I’d spent the past two days staying in my fire elemental form at home, controlling thousands upon thousands of “Fireflies” scattered across Xianshui City in a relentless search for any trace of Alice.

  Since no one else was in the apartment, shifting into fire elemental form drew no attention. And once dispersed across the entire city, the “Fireflies” hadn’t caused any major disturbances. When thousands gathered in one spot they were impossible to miss, but spread out like this—even if a passerby spotted one, the most they’d think was, “Was that a glowing bug that just flew by?” Nothing more.

  While continuing the search, I also worked on further optimizing the “Fireflies.”

  Although they could now store preset commands, they still couldn’t perform an autonomous carpet search. Simple automatic instructions like “follow the person ahead” or “report if a specific face appears nearby” were possible, but something as complex as “locate one particular person in a sprawling, intricate urban environment” remained beyond them. No matter what, I had to direct them manually.

  What I really wanted was for the “Fireflies” to at least remember the scenes they’d encountered. With a memory playback function, I could at least go back and check for any clues they might have missed. That direction felt feasible—since they could already retain my preset commands, there was no reason they couldn’t store other kinds of data too.

  It was a strange feeling. Before meeting Alice, I’d never paid much attention to the “Firefly” ability beyond its basic surveillance function. Now it was evolving faster than anything else.

  Whenever my consciousness started to feel stiff from the strain, I’d temporarily ease up—letting my mind drift to other thoughts to regain some mental elasticity.

  The misty dreamscape…

  There were still so many unknowns about that place.

  I’d had so many questions left unanswered. I wanted to ask Xuanming about the giant and the apocalypse, or ask Number Two why she and Number One had reacted so strongly to the name “Xuanming”… but before I could voice any of them, I’d been forced to log out of the dream.

  I had no idea when I’d next be pulled back into the misty dreamscape. If I couldn’t find Alice within the time limit, then—given how anomalies and I repelled each other—I might never get another chance.

  It was noon now. Just as I prepared to resume the search for Alice, one of the “Fireflies” I’d scattered outside suddenly sent me an alert.

  My whole body jolted. Reflexively, I thought it had finally located Alice—then I realized something was wrong.

  The “Firefly” sending the signal wasn’t one of the ones I’d deployed to search for her.

  This was the one I’d left near Chang’an.

  Because of the lingering doubts surrounding the fallen demon hunter incident, even after parting ways with Chang’an, I hadn’t yet recalled that “Firefly.” I’d planned to retrieve it after some time had passed. I’d also worried whether leaving a fragment of my spirit near him might bring him misfortune because of Alice’s jinx, so I’d subtly asked her about it before she left.

  According to Alice, simply being in close proximity to someone didn’t trigger her jinx constitution—at least some level of interaction was required. That was why, even though she constantly worried about affecting me, she never worried about the neighbors upstairs and downstairs, or the strangers she passed on the street.

  Still, to be safe, I hadn’t checked on Chang’an even once recently. Partly because I didn’t want to waver in my resolve to distance myself from him—and partly because I feared even my gaze might somehow transmit misfortune to him.

  But right now none of that mattered. The preset command I’d given the “Firefly” near Chang’an was: “Alert me immediately if Chang’an is in possible mortal danger.”

  Through the “Firefly,” I saw the scene—

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  It was a wide, dimly lit indoor space filled with dust. An empty, cavernous warehouse, by the looks of it.

  Chang’an was in the center, tied to a wooden chair. No question—he wasn’t sitting there willingly. He’d been bound hand and foot to the chair like a prisoner undergoing brutal interrogation.

  And “like” wasn’t even the right word—because right now, Chang’an was being beaten.

  Two men in black suits stood around him. One repeatedly struck the defenseless Chang’an while the other braced the chair from behind with both hands to keep it steady.

  Chang’an’s face was already swollen and bruised; he cried out in pain. The attackers showed no mercy—one of them kicked him, chair and all, sending him crashing to the floor. If they kept this up, they might actually kill him.

  He’d clearly been beaten for a while already. Why had the “Firefly” only just now sent the alert?

  Even as the question flashed through my mind, intense rage surged in my chest.

  I didn’t know how far away they were or in what direction—but none of that mattered. Wherever my gaze reached, my flames could reach. The instant I focused hostile intent on the two men in black suits, they ignited.

  Flames erupted directly on their bodies. Not only that—the entire warehouse blazed up under the overflow of my murderous consciousness, instantly transforming into a roaring inferno.

  I quickly closed my eyes. Right now, two scenes existed in my mind: one was my apartment, the other was the warehouse where Chang’an was. Since my body was still at home, my primary awareness remained there. But just as one shifts weight from left foot to right, I deliberately transferred the center of my consciousness to the warehouse.

  Then I opened my eyes again.

  The living room was gone. I now stood inside the burning warehouse.

  Chang’an lay on the ground with his back to me, writhing desperately like an injured worm, terrified of being swallowed by the sea of fire. Bound to the chair, he couldn’t even stand—let alone escape the inferno. Naturally, my flames wouldn’t harm allies. Chang’an was perfectly safe.

  I walked toward him. Amid the roar of the flames, he must have heard my footsteps—he twisted around in panic and looked up.

  Then he saw my face.

  “A-A… A-Cheng!?” His eyes widened in shock. “You—you—you…”

  “It’s me,” I said, emotions tangled.

  I’d thought we’d never meet again. Yet here we were—reunited under these circumstances.

  And this was the first time I’d ever revealed my superhuman abilities in front of Chang’an. I cared deeply about what he thought of me.

  In the past I’d been cautious—worried about exposing my powers in front of people. Now I had no such reservations. I’d already used them openly in front of Zhu Shi and laid everything bare to Alice. There was no reason to hide from Chang’an. Besides, last time I’d lied to him—claimed I was cursed by the cave on the fifteenth floor and needed to stay away. Showing him my real power now might actually put his mind at ease.

  Chang’an stared at me in stunned silence for several seconds before finally managing the rest of his sentence: “You… turned into a ghost!?”

  “…” I nearly choked on his utterly bewildering reaction.

  Well… I supposed it made sense. In fire elemental form, I looked pretty much exactly like an orange-red phantom.

  “I’m not dead yet,” I said, and released the fire elemental form.

  His expression was one of complete worldview-shattering shock. From his perspective, it was understandable: a friend he hadn’t seen in days suddenly reappeared in the most fantastical way imaginable. If our positions were reversed, I’d probably struggle to process it too.

  Three or four seconds later, he seemed to snap back to reality. Fear flooded his face as he looked past me.

  I immediately turned around.

  But there was nothing in that direction. No enemies, no threats, no anomalies. Only the two men in black suits—now charred and crumpled on the ground, unconscious. What else was there?

  In a trembling voice, Chang’an asked: “A-Cheng… did you kill them…?”

  “Kill them?”

  It took me a second or two to realize what he was afraid of.

  Even though those two had just been beating him mercilessly, seeing them burned so horribly still stirred some sympathy in him. It wasn’t na?ve saintliness—just human nature, the instinctive pity for someone in the same fragile boat.

  But he’d misunderstood. I hadn’t intended to burn them to death. I still wanted answers—who they were, where they came from, why they’d done this to Chang’an. Though honestly… I really had wanted to incinerate them on the spot. I’d been furious. How dare they treat my friend like that—I’d wanted to reduce them to ashes right then and there… Wait. Had I accidentally let that emotion seep into the flames?

  And they’d been lying motionless since the fire started. Had I actually killed them?

  I stepped forward to check, kicking one of the fallen men. He didn’t respond—like a corpse. No blood, no fluids leaking from wounds; the flames had probably cauterized everything instantly.

  Through the lingering heat and embers, I could sense it too: no breathing, no heartbeat.

  They were really dead?

  Something felt off. The “feel” of the flames when they ignited had seemed strangely familiar…

  “They’re… dead?” Chang’an’s voice trembled with fear and confusion.

  “No choice. Burn them to ash and toss the remains in the bushes outside,” I decided quickly. “More importantly, Chang’an—who are they? Why did they come after you?”

  As I spoke, I extinguished the inferno that had engulfed the warehouse.

  Through the heat that had spread outside earlier, I sensed the surrounding terrain. This place was in a remote suburban area; the warehouse itself appeared long abandoned. The commotion shouldn’t attract immediate attention.

  I didn’t care if people linked it to me—but I couldn’t let Chang’an get tangled up in a murder case.

  Chang’an stared at me blankly. “A-Cheng… what are you even saying…”