They did not run again.
That was how the plan began.
1. The Moment Running Becomes Death
Qin Mian knew it the second Yin Lie stopped pulling her forward.
Not slowing.
Stopping.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"…Lie?" she whispered.
The broken world around them shifted uneasily, fractures humming as scavengers repositioned. Pressure lingered in the air, thick and expectant, like a held breath.
Yin Lie let go of her wrist.
"We can't keep moving," he said quietly.
Her throat tightened.
"They'll surround us."
"Yes."
"And then—"
"They'll drain us," he finished calmly.
"Slowly. Cleanly."
That calm terrified her more than panic ever had.
2. Choosing Where to Bleed
The ground beneath them was uneven, fractured stone layered with unstable geometry. Gaps yawned in the sky above—wide enough to hide movement, narrow enough to trap it.
Yin Lie scanned the terrain.
"This place," he said.
"It's bad ground."
Qin Mian stared at him.
"Then why stop here?"
He looked at her.
"Because bad ground cuts both ways."
3. The Plan Is Ugly
He knelt slowly, breath hitching as ice cracked painfully along his spine. Blood leaked freely now, no longer freezing fast enough to hide how bad it was.
Qin Mian rushed to his side.
"You shouldn't be moving," she said desperately.
"I know," he replied.
"That's why this has to end soon."
She felt cold.
"What are you planning?"
Yin Lie inhaled carefully.
"We let them think we're done," he said.
"Tired. Broken. Easy."
Her eyes widened.
"You want to bait them."
"Yes."
"With me?"
"With you loud," he corrected.
"And me quiet."
4. Qin Mian Understands Her Role
The Anchor trembled violently inside her.
Danger.
Exposure.
Extreme risk.
She swallowed hard.
"They'll focus on me," she said.
"They already are," Yin Lie replied.
Her hands shook.
"And you?"
"I'll disappear," he said simply.
She grabbed his arm.
"You can't disappear anymore. You're barely holding together."
"I don't need long," he said.
"I need timing."
5. Letting the World Smell Weakness
Qin Mian stood.
Every muscle screamed.
Her chest burned.
But she straightened her back deliberately and took a shaky step away from Yin Lie.
The Anchor reacted immediately—panic flaring, systems screaming to stabilize.
She didn't.
She let it spike.
Fear leaked outward.
Pain followed.
The fractured space answered.
High above, shapes shifted.
Closer.
"They felt it," she whispered.
Yin Lie nodded once.
"Good."
6. The Scavengers Commit
This time, they didn't circle.
They descended.
Three from above.
Two from the sides.
One from directly in front.
The pressure slammed into Qin Mian hard enough to force a scream out of her throat. Her knees buckled, but she stayed standing.
"Come on!" she shouted hoarsely.
"Is that all you've got?"
The scavengers responded.
They rushed.
7. Yin Lie Vanishes
The moment they committed, Yin Lie moved.
Not forward.
Down.
He slammed his palm into the fractured stone, ice ripping outward—not as an attack, but as noise. The space screamed, definitions tearing just enough to mask his presence.
He slipped sideways into a shallow fracture, body screaming in protest.
Every movement tore something inside him.
He bit down hard enough to taste blood.
"…Just a little longer," he muttered.
8. Qin Mian Takes the Hit
The first scavenger struck.
Pressure crushed into her chest, throwing her backward violently. She slammed into the ground, pain exploding through her spine.
She screamed.
The Anchor went wild.
Fear, rage, desperation—everything spilled outward.
The scavengers surged eagerly.
They were feeding now.
That was the mistake.
9. Yin Lie Strikes From Absence
Ice erupted behind the leading scavenger.
Not large.
Precise.
A spike of frozen definition punched straight through the distortion anchoring its form.
The scavenger screamed—shrill, wrong—and collapsed instantly.
Gone.
The others froze.
Confusion rippled through the space.
They had not predicted absence as a vector.
10. Chaos Is a Weapon
Qin Mian pushed herself upright, gasping.
She didn't retreat.
She stepped forward.
The Anchor flared again, deliberately unstable.
Two scavengers lunged at her.
Yin Lie struck again—from a different angle.
Ice tore through one.
Another split violently and fled.
The remaining scavengers recoiled, pressure patterns breaking.
They were no longer coordinated.
They were afraid.
11. The Finisher Returns — Too Late
The heavier presence moved.
The finisher scavenger emerged from a deeper fracture, stabilizing space aggressively around itself.
Too aggressively.
Yin Lie felt it.
"…There," he whispered.
He forced himself upright, every breath agony.
This time, he didn't charge.
He waited.
Qin Mian screamed again, drawing the finisher's attention.
The moment it locked onto her—
Yin Lie shattered the ground beneath it.
Ice and broken definition collapsed inward.
The finisher roared as its stable zone failed.
Not dead.
But injured.
Forced back.
12. The Cost Hits All at Once
The backlash slammed into Yin Lie like a truck.
He screamed as ice shattered inside his chest.
Blood flooded his lungs.
He collapsed, hard.
Qin Mian ran to him, sobbing.
"Lie—Lie—!"
He coughed violently.
"…Worth it," he rasped.
The scavengers pulled back fully now.
Not retreating.
Reassessing.
13. Silence After the Trap
The pressure faded.
Not gone.
But distant.
Qin Mian held Yin Lie, shaking violently.
"We did it," she whispered.
"They backed off."
He barely nodded.
"For now."
14. What Changed
The broken world felt different.
Not safer.
But no longer confident.
The scavengers had learned something new:
These two were not prey.
They were volatile.
Expensive.
Not worth easy consumption.
End of the Chapter
They didn't win.
They survived by turning weakness into bait and pain into a blade.
Yin Lie lay broken in Qin Mian's arms, breathing shallow, body pushed far past tolerance.
Qin Mian stared into the fractured sky, blood on her hands.
"We can't keep doing this," she whispered.
Yin Lie's eyes flickered open.
"No," he agreed.
"But now they know."
She swallowed.
"Know what?"
A faint, brutal smile touched his lips.
"That hunting us
will cost them something every time."
And in a world ruled by efficiency,
cost was the only language that mattered.