The city didn't attack immediately.
It watched.
For exactly three point two seconds after Qin Mian's last words fell into the air, every system held position. No escalation. No alarms beyond the ones already forming.
That pause wasn't mercy.
It was calculation.
A Window They Shouldn't Have Shown
The resonance between them was unstable.
Not broken.
Not aligned.
Arguing.
That was what the city saw.
Two anomalies no longer moving as one. Emotional divergence. Decision conflict. A widening gap in synchronization.
The Director didn't smile.
"Now," she said softly.
Containment, Not Violence
The first response wasn't force.
It was isolation.
The air pressure shifted subtly. Walls that hadn't existed seconds before slid into place with surgical precision, separating corridors, rerouting space. Not blocking—partitioning.
Qin Mian felt it immediately.
"…Lie," she said sharply.
Her voice didn't echo the way it should have.
Sound dampening.
Yin Lie Is Slowed, Not Stopped
Yin Lie took one step toward her.
The floor responded.
Not collapsing.
Not resisting.
Lagging.
Every movement met invisible drag, like wading through heavy water. The drift inside him surged angrily, slamming against containment that wasn't designed to hold power—
but delay.
"Smart," he growled.
Kai swore. "They're not fighting you. They're buying time."
The City Speaks as a System
A voice filled the space—not from speakers, not directional.
Everywhere.
"Primary anomaly," it said calmly.
"Cease movement."
Yin Lie laughed harshly, blood flecking his lips.
"Too late."
He pushed forward again.
The drag increased.
Pain tore through his joints, the drift roaring in protest.
Still—he moved.
Qin Mian Becomes the Target
Not him.
Her.
Lights above Qin Mian dimmed further. The air around her sharpened, tightening just enough to make breathing effortful. Not crushing.
Restricting.
Her Anchor reacted violently, flaring and then stuttering as the city adjusted containment frequencies around her, not him.
"No," she gasped.
She understood instantly.
"They're splitting us."
A Clean Tactical Choice
The Director watched the feeds.
"Primary anomaly remains mobile," an analyst reported.
"Secondary is more controllable."
The Director nodded once.
"Then contain the one who still listens."
The First True Barrier
A field snapped into place between Qin Mian and Yin Lie.
Not visible.
But absolute.
Yin Lie hit it hard enough that the shock rattled his bones, pain exploding through his shoulders as the drift slammed forward and recoiled violently.
He staggered back, coughing blood.
"…Lie!" Qin Mian screamed.
Her Anchor surged instinctively—wild, panicked—before the city dampened it again.
When Protection Becomes a Weapon
"This is on you," the city's voice said evenly.
"Remain compliant, Qin Mian. Resistance will increase strain on the primary anomaly."
Her breath hitched.
They were using him as leverage.
She turned toward the invisible barrier, eyes blazing with fear and fury.
"Don't listen to them!" Yin Lie roared.
The city adjusted the field.
He screamed as the pressure spiked inside him—not outward, but inward, folding his power back against his body.
Qin Mian felt it.
Every nerve in her body screamed in empathy.
The Trap Closes
Containment units deployed—not soldiers, not drones.
Space.
The corridors around Qin Mian narrowed subtly, geometry shifting to guide her backward, away from Yin Lie, toward a clean extraction vector.
Her legs shook violently.
The Anchor pulsed, begging for release.
"No," she whispered.
Not yet.
The City Tightens Its Grip
"Decision time," the system said calmly.
"Cooperate, or observe primary anomaly destabilization."
Yin Lie slammed his fist against the barrier again, vision swimming, rage and terror tearing through him.
"Don't you dare—!" he shouted.
Qin Mian met his eyes across the impossible divide.
Her anger from moments ago shattered—replaced by fear sharp enough to cut.
This was what the city wanted.
To make her choose in front of him.
End of the Chapter
The containment field hummed louder.
Yin Lie's knees buckled.
Qin Mian stepped forward without meaning to.
The city leaned in.
And somewhere above, the Director watched closely—
because now the test was no longer abstract.
Now it had teeth.
And someone was about to bleed for the answer.