Lu Wenchuan did not wake.
The lights inside the Medical Vehicle were blinding, the instruments beeping as urgently as falling rain. Song Zhixia knelt beside the bed, her gloves covered in blood, injecting one dose of Medicine after another as the medic beside her called out readings in an increasingly strained voice.
"Fate line response is weak."
"Heart rate is dropping."
"The anchor position cavity is still expanding."
Xu Zhihan stood beside the bed, his hands hanging at his sides, blood running down his palm and dripping from his fingertips. His half of the Silver Nameplate had broken into two pieces. One was embedded in the Final Layer's chains; the other still clung to the blood in his palm. Lu Wenchuan gripped the broken piece of the Student ID, his knuckles white, as though he had never let go even before losing consciousness.
Song Zhixia looked up at him, her voice hoarse.
"Xu Zhihan, get out."
Xu Zhihan did not move.
Song Zhixia gritted her teeth. "Standing here won't help."
Xu Zhihan looked down at Lu Wenchuan.
"He's still here."
Song Zhixia's eyes were red, anger caught in her throat.
"I know he's still here. I'm trying to pull him back. Stop standing here interfering with the instruments with your divine spark."
Xu Zhihan took half a step back.
Outside, the Deputy Captain and his people blocked the entrance to the Dark Channel. Deep inside the Air-Raid Shelter, the white light was gone, leaving only the smell of foul water and scorched, cold ash. The Final Layer's door had vanished. After the Oracle Tower collapsed, deep cracks had opened in the walls, as though the entire underground space had been folded open from within.
Xu Zhihan walked to the vehicle's door and stopped.
He heard a very faint chime.
Ding.