They did not chase immediately.
That hesitation told Qin Mian everything.
1. When Predators Slow Down
The fractured sky above them held still, its gaps no longer restless, no longer shifting with constant micro-adjustments.
That was wrong.
The scavengers were still there—Qin Mian could feel them, hovering at the edge of perception—but their movement had changed.
They were no longer flowing.
They were thinking.
"They stopped reacting," Qin Mian whispered.
Yin Lie leaned heavily against a jagged slab of stone, breathing shallow, every inhale rattling painfully in his chest.
"That's worse," he said.
"It means they're no longer improvising."
2. A New Kind of Pressure
The world pressed inward again.
Not like before.
Not in waves or layers.
This pressure was… even.
Uniform.
Every direction felt equally wrong.
Qin Mian staggered slightly, grabbing Yin Lie's arm.
"It's everywhere," she said.
"I can't tell where it's coming from."
Yin Lie closed his eyes, feeling through the ice threaded into the environment.
"…They flattened the field," he murmured.
"No highs. No lows. No weak points."
Her stomach dropped.
"They took away our terrain advantage."
"Yes."
3. The Third Trap Is Not Physical
They didn't move.
They couldn't.
The ground no longer guided or punished steps—it simply resisted change.
Every movement felt expensive.
Breathing hurt.
Thinking felt slow.
The environment wasn't attacking.
It was taxing existence.
"They're draining us without touching us," Qin Mian said.
Yin Lie nodded.
"This is how they finish things that fight back."
4. Yin Lie Starts Losing Time
Yin Lie blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The space around him stuttered.
For a fraction of a second, Qin Mian saw his focus slip—not physically, but cognitively.
"…Lie?" she said sharply.
"I'm here," he replied.
Too quickly.
That scared her.
"You hesitated."
He didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was quieter.
"…I'm burning through margin," he admitted.
5. The First Internal Error
A scavenger moved.
Not toward them.
Toward another scavenger.
The shift was subtle—but wrong.
Qin Mian noticed it instantly.
"…They're overlapping," she whispered.
Yin Lie forced his eyes open wider.
"…They're desyncing."
The flattened field didn't allow clean priority resolution.
Their coordination—once perfect—began to jitter.
"They're optimized for clean systems," Qin Mian realized.
"And this isn't clean anymore."
6. Qin Mian Pushes the Crack
She took a step forward.
The pressure bit down hard.
Pain flared through her spine.
She screamed—but stayed standing.
The Anchor surged, unstable, contradictory.
Emotion spiked unevenly.
Fear.
Anger.
Refusal.
The field shuddered.
Two scavengers reacted differently.
One pulled back.
One surged forward.
"…Good," Yin Lie rasped.
"That's a split."
7. The Scavengers Start Blocking Each Other
The forward scavenger slammed into a pressure fold too early.
Another scavenger tried to compensate, shifting angle—
and clipped the first.
The collision sent a violent ripple through the field.
Both recoiled, distorted.
Not dead.
But disrupted.
Qin Mian's heart pounded.
"They're getting in each other's way."
Yin Lie smiled faintly.
"Now they're expensive to coordinate."
8. Yin Lie Pays Again
Yin Lie raised his hand slowly.
Ice formed—thin, brittle, trembling.
The world pushed back instantly.
He screamed as pain tore through his chest.
Blood splattered onto the stone.
Qin Mian grabbed him.
"Stop—! You'll kill yourself!"
"I know," he gasped.
"But this is the only timing window."
He released the ice anyway.
It shattered the pressure fold between two scavengers.
One collapsed inward violently.
The other barely escaped.
Yin Lie fell to one knee.
Hard.
9. Qin Mian Takes Control
She didn't hesitate.
She stepped in front of him.
The Anchor flared dangerously.
Not stabilizing.
Not calming.
Broadcasting contradiction.
"I'm still here!" she screamed into the uniform pressure.
"I'm not optimizing!"
The field wavered.
The uniformity cracked.
Different responses emerged again.
10. The Scavengers Lose Consensus
Three scavengers pulled back.
Two advanced.
One hesitated too long.
The system beneath them tried to correct—
and failed.
Latency increased.
Reaction paths crossed.
Qin Mian felt it like static in her head.
"They don't agree anymore," she whispered.
Yin Lie forced himself upright.
"Then we push now."
11. The Breakthrough Is Messy
They moved together.
Not fast.
Not clean.
They shoved through the weakest disagreement in the field, bodies screaming in protest.
Pressure slammed them from all sides.
Qin Mian cried out as pain tore through her chest.
Yin Lie screamed again, ice cracking inside his ribs.
But they passed through.
The flattened field fractured behind them.
12. The Scavengers Retreat — Improperly
The scavengers pulled back again.
Not cleanly.
Not in sync.
Some retreated too far.
Others too slowly.
The system scrambled to reassemble coordination.
It failed.
Not permanently.
But noticeably.
Qin Mian collapsed, gasping.
Yin Lie fell beside her.
They lay there, shaking.
Alive.
13. The Real Cost Surfaces
Yin Lie coughed violently.
Blood soaked the ground.
Ice failed along his chest completely.
"…Lie," Qin Mian whispered, terrified.
He forced his eyes open.
"…I can't do that again," he said hoarsely.
Her heart clenched.
"What do you mean?"
He swallowed.
"…I'm out of that margin."
14. Qin Mian Accepts What Comes Next
She didn't cry.
She nodded.
"Then next time," she said quietly,
"I carry more."
His eyes widened slightly.
"…That will hurt you."
"Yes."
"…Permanently."
She met his gaze.
"I know."
15. The World Takes Note
The fractured sky tightened.
Not attacking.
Recording.
The system beneath the hunt updated its parameters again.
These two were no longer just disruptive.
They were mutually reinforcing anomalies.
End of the Chapter
They had broken the hunt's coordination.
Not destroyed it.
Not escaped it.
But forced it to bleed inefficiency.
Yin Lie lay motionless beside Qin Mian, breathing shallow, body pushed past safe limits.
Qin Mian sat upright despite the pain, eyes fixed on the fractured sky.
"Next time," she whispered,
"I won't wait for you to fall."
Above them, the world adjusted again.
Slower now.
More careful.
Because for the first time, the hunt had learned a dangerous truth:
These two did not just survive pressure.
They taught it how to fail.