They did not stop running.
The world simply removed the idea of stopping.
1. Fatigue Becomes a Weapon
Qin Mian could no longer tell how long they had been moving.
Minutes stretched. Seconds folded. Her lungs burned constantly, not from speed, but from never being allowed to recover. Every breath felt borrowed.
Her legs shook.
Not weak.
Overused.
"Lie…" she gasped.
"I can't feel my right foot."
Yin Lie didn't slow.
"I know," he said.
"It stopped responding two fractures ago."
That terrified her more than the pain.
"You knew?" she whispered.
"Yes."
"…Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because if you noticed earlier," he replied,
"your steps would've changed."
2. The World Begins to Herd Them
The broken landscape shifted again.
Not randomly.
Purposefully.
Paths that had been open sealed behind them. Fractures narrowed just enough to force direction. The ground tilted gently—not enough to throw them down, but enough to guide movement.
Qin Mian realized it suddenly.
"…It's steering us."
Yin Lie's eyes hardened.
"Yes," he said.
"And it's doing it quietly."
3. The Scavengers Stop Chasing
The scavengers did not rush anymore.
They spread wide.
High. Low. Side angles.
They moved like tides, not predators—slow, inevitable, impossible to outrun forever.
Qin Mian counted at least twelve now.
Maybe more.
"They're not attacking," she said.
"No," Yin Lie replied.
"They don't need to."
4. Pressure Without Impact
The first layer hit her mind.
Not pain.
Delay.
Her thoughts slowed by half a second. Movements felt heavy, like her body had to ask permission before obeying.
She stumbled.
Yin Lie caught her.
"They're not crushing you," he said.
"They're wasting you."
The second layer followed.
Emotion dulled. Fear blurred. Urgency softened.
Qin Mian panicked.
"No—no—don't let it take this—!"
She bit her tongue hard.
Blood filled her mouth.
The pain snapped her back.
"I'm still here," she sobbed.
5. Yin Lie Pays for Every Correction
Ice surged from Yin Lie's spine again.
Not large.
Targeted.
He carved a narrow corridor of definition through the pressure, just enough for them to move.
The recoil slammed into him instantly.
His vision went white.
Blood poured from his nose and ears.
He nearly fell.
Qin Mian screamed.
"Stop—! You're killing yourself!"
He didn't answer.
He was already adjusting for the next second.
6. The Anchor Begins to Crack
Inside Qin Mian, the Anchor screamed.
Not from overload.
From conflict.
It could no longer reconcile survival with emotion. Stabilization demanded calm. Survival demanded noise.
The equations did not match.
Her chest burned.
She collapsed to one knee.
Yin Lie turned back sharply.
"Get up," he said urgently.
"Now."
"I can't—!" she cried.
"You must," he snapped.
"They're waiting for you to stop."
7. A New Kind of Scavenger Appears
The air warped ahead.
Not splitting.
Compressing.
Something denser stepped out of the fracture.
This one did not hover.
It stood.
Its outline heavier. Slower. More defined.
Qin Mian felt cold dread.
"That one feels… wrong."
Yin Lie stared.
"…That's not a feeder," he said quietly.
"That's a finisher."
8. The Finisher Does Not Rush
The finisher scavenger didn't move.
It watched.
The pressure around it deepened, stabilizing the space in a small radius.
The world felt cleaner there.
Too clean.
Qin Mian realized the danger instantly.
"It's making a dead zone," she whispered.
"Where we can't destabilize."
"Yes," Yin Lie said.
"And where it can touch us."
9. Yin Lie Makes the Worst Decision
He inhaled slowly.
Ice crawled up his chest, cracking ribs outward.
"…I'll hold it," he said.
Qin Mian's blood turned cold.
"No."
"You run."
"No!" she screamed.
He looked at her.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Present.
"If we both stay," he said quietly,
"we don't leave."
10. Qin Mian Refuses the Script
She stepped forward instead.
The finisher turned slightly.
The pressure slammed into her like a wall.
Her knees buckled.
She screamed as pain tore through her chest, Anchor shrieking in pure overload.
Yin Lie shouted her name.
She stayed standing.
"You don't get to choose that alone!" she cried.
"I won't let you disappear for efficiency!"
11. The World Stutters
Something broke.
Not space.
Assumption.
The finisher hesitated.
The scavengers around it wavered.
Qin Mian's instability wasn't noise anymore.
It was intentional contradiction.
The Anchor surged violently, breaking its own limits.
Yin Lie felt it—and something inside him snapped back into alignment.
Not optimization.
Bond.
12. Yin Lie Burns the Last Margin
Ice erupted from Yin Lie's body in a catastrophic surge.
Not refined.
Not survivable.
Everything cracked.
The finisher screamed as the space around it shattered, definition tearing apart violently.
The recoil hit Yin Lie full force.
He screamed.
Bones shattered.
Ice pierced his organs.
He collapsed.
Hard.
13. Silence After the Break
The scavengers pulled back.
Not defeated.
Recalculating.
The finisher dissolved into distortion, wounded but not destroyed.
The pressure eased slightly.
Enough to breathe.
Enough to feel pain.
Qin Mian crawled to Yin Lie's side, sobbing.
"Lie—Lie—stay with me—!"
His breathing was shallow.
Irregular.
He opened his eyes slightly.
"…Still… here," he whispered.
Barely.
14. The Truth Settles In
Qin Mian shook violently.
"We can't do this again," she whispered.
Yin Lie didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was hoarse.
"…Then next time," he said,
"we don't run."
Her heart slammed.
"What?"
He closed his eyes.
"We turn," he whispered.
"And make them afraid."
End of the Chapter
They were still alive.
But the margins were gone.
The world had begun to design their deaths, not rush them.
The scavengers were no longer chasing prey.
They were managing resources.
And Qin Mian finally understood the truth:
This was not about escape.
It was about how much of themselves
they were willing to destroy
before the world decided
they were no longer worth the effort.