Ronan knelt on one knee at the edge of the high cliff, his scepter embedded in a crevice to support his body. His chest heaved like a broken bellows, each breath accompanied by the metallic scraping sound. Black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, forming a hard lump on his chin. The joint of his left leg was already twisted, and the crack in his shoulder burned brighter and brighter, purple light mixed with black smoke shooting out, like a pressure cooker overcooked and about to explode.
Ye Mo was still standing in the middle of the slope, his palms pressed against the ground. He could feel the underground energy flow was a chaotic mess, completely out of sync with the previous orderly rhythm. Star-Lord was taking off his headphones and catching his breath, Rocket was looking down at the cooling progress bar on his EMP device, Groot's roots were trembling slightly in the shallow rock and soil, Gamora was standing on the side peak, her short blade held in a reverse grip, her eyes never Cairo for even a second.
No one moved.
No one dared to breathe a sigh of relief.
But in that quiet moment, when you could hear Mars crackling, Ronan's fingers suddenly moved. It wasn't a prelude to an attack, nor a gathering of strength—but rather, he quietly pushed the scepter another inch into the crevice, using the force to move himself back half a step.
Ye Mo's brow twitched.
Something's not right.
This guy isn't charging forward, he's retreating instead? He can't win and wants to run away?
He immediately lowered his palm to sense the subtler vibrations. Sure enough, he heard a slight dragging sound coming from the rock strata. It wasn't the large-scale tremor of Quake, but rather the rhythmic friction of a metal plate scraping against the rock—once, twice, three times... like someone sneaking away in worn-out shoes.
Looking up, Ronan had already moved three steps away, his back almost pressed against the shadow of Gao Yan's back. His gaze frequently swept towards the distant outline of the spaceship, his eyes under his helmet flashing with anxiety. He no longer tried to stabilize the energy cycle, nor did he prepare to fight back; he was simply looking for a way out.
"Don't let him get away!" Ye Mo roared, "He's running!"
That shout shattered the silence of the battlefield.
Star-Lord abruptly put on his headphones, his fingers already swiping through the playlist, ready to play "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" again to send him off. Rocket immediately raised his EMP launcher, the red dot of the scope locking onto Ronan's back. Groot pushed off with both feet, his roots bursting forth like steel cables, about to entangle his opponent's retreat. Gamora the rocks with her toes, her entire body leaping down the slope like a cheetah, heading straight for the mine entrance.
But it was too late.
Ronan had been waiting for this moment. He slammed his left hand on the device at his waist, detonating an unstable energy crystal beneath his feet. With a deafening boom, a burst of purplish-black flames erupted, instantly engulfing the entire area in debris and dust. The shockwave sent Star-Lord staggering, Rocket raised his hand to shield his face, several of Groot's roots were snapped, Gamora twisted her body mid-air to avoid it, sliding two meters before regaining her balance upon landing.
When the smoke and dust cleared, the top of the high rock was empty.
Only the scepter remained, forlornly stuck in the crack, its purple light flashing faintly a few times before fading away.
"Damn!" Rocket jumped up. "He really slipped away!"
"The mine tunnel." Ye Mo didn't move, his palm still pressed against the ground, his voice deep and heavy, like a block of iron. "He's gone into that abandoned mine tunnel at the back."
Following his gaze, everyone saw a narrow, dark crevice on the back of the cliff, as if it had been cut out by some heavy machinery. The entrance was piled with rubble from a landslide, but a path had clearly been cleared in the middle.
"He's injured like that, yet he can still run so fast?" Star-Lord frowned. "I almost thought he was going to die on the spot."
"He ran away because of his serious injuries." Ye Mo straightened up and shook his numb right arm. "Those rounds of resonance just now broke his internal circulation. His armor couldn't hold up. If he continued fighting, he would explode first. It's not that he doesn't want to fight now, it's that he's afraid to fight."
"So he chose a dog hole that nobody knew about to escape?" Rocket sneered. "He knows how to pick a spot."
"It's not that nobody knows." Gamora walked to the entrance of the mine tunnel, squatted down, and touched the remaining scratches on the ground. "These marks are fresh; someone went in and out no more than ten minutes ago. And the direction is wrong—this mine tunnel doesn't lead to any main ship or supply point. Two kilometers ahead, it connects to an old transport rail that leads directly to an abandoned outpost on the outer perimeter."
"That means he deliberately hid the route." Ye Mo nodded. "He knew we would surround him, so he prepared a backup plan in advance."
"Then what are you standing there for?" Rocket turned to look at him. "Chase him! He's just a crippled, injured guy now. You could knock him over with a stick."
"I didn't say I wouldn't pursue him." Ye Mo walked towards the mine entrance, his pace neither quickening nor slowing. "But we need to figure out if he's really trying to escape, or if he's just baiting us."
"You suspect there's an ambush?" Star-Lord asked.
"I don't doubt anything; I only believe what I see with my own eyes." Ye Mo stopped at the entrance, squinting into the darkness. "The moment he turned around, his eyes showed panic. It wasn't the look of a tactical retreat; he was genuinely afraid. This kind of person doesn't set traps; he only knows how to save his own life."
Gamora stood up. "I'll go in and scout ahead."
"You can't do it," Ye Mo stopped her. "It's too narrow. You'd be a sitting duck if you went in. Besides, the air circulation is poor inside, so you won't be able to use your speed advantage."
So how do you plan to get in?
"Me?" Ye Mo smiled and pulled a black chip from his pocket. "Use a little trick."
He crouched down, pressed the chip into a crevice in the rock wall beside the mine entrance, and gently pried it open. With a click, the miniature capacitor inside the chip activated, emitting an extremely low-frequency pulse signal.
"What's this?" Rocket leaned closer.
"A temporary vibration sensor." Ye Mo withdrew his hand. "I can sense the movement inside through it. If he dares to turn around and launch a sneak attack, I'll know five seconds in advance."
"You still carry this thing with you?" Star-Lord clicked his tongue.
"I got these from dismantling the Kree patrol boat last time." Ye Mo patted his pants and stood up. "You think I wear work pants every day to look cool? Having more pockets is the real deal."
Rocket rolled his eyes. "Alright, Mr. X, I'll be at your beck and call from now on."
"No deployment." Ye Mo stared into the depths of the mine tunnel. "You all stay on the perimeter and maintain vigilance. I'm going in alone."
"Are you crazy?" Gamora frowned. "Even at his weakest, he's still a warrior wielding the Power Stone. You going in now is just suicide."
"I went in precisely because he's weak," Ye Mo said calmly. "He's seriously injured, lacks support, and his armor is tattered. His only asset is his familiarity with the terrain. If I led a bunch of people in, making a ruckus, he'd be more willing to fight to the death. But if I follow him alone, he'll hesitate, make judgments, and make mistakes."
"Are you so sure he won't dare turn around and fight back?" Star-Lord asked.
"I'm not sure." Ye Mo glanced at him. "I'm betting that what he fears most right now isn't death, but pain."
After saying that, he stepped into the mine tunnel.
The passage was narrow, allowing only one person to pass at a time. Condensation dripped from above, landing coldly on his shoulders. The walls were covered in corrosion marks, clearly waste gas pipes left from mining operations years ago. Ye Mo took each step very lightly, his shoes gliding along the ground to avoid making an echo.
A slight warmth in his palm—that was the first feedback from the chip: thirty meters ahead, there was a slight vibration of footsteps, the frequency was unstable, and the time difference between alternating weight-bearing on the left and right sides exceeded 0.3 seconds, indicating that Ronan's left leg could no longer support him.
good.
That really hurt.
Ye Mo's lips twitched slightly, and he continued forward.
Ten minutes later, the passage began to slope downwards, and the air became even more stuffy. He stopped, pressed his ear against the wall, and listened for a while. In the distance, he heard a faint metallic clanging sound, like armor scraping against a pipe support.
He pulled out a thermal imaging device the size of a cell phone—which he had salvaged from some scrapped equipment—and the screen flashed, revealing a heat source behind the bend ahead: a blurry human figure sitting against the rock wall, with a high body temperature and erratic breathing.
He was indeed panting.
Ye Mo turned off the device and put it in his pocket. He knew that he only needed to go another twenty meters to see Ronan himself.
But he didn't move.
He's waiting.
Because the real chase is never about who runs the fastest, but about who can hold out until the very end.
Deep within the mine, Ronan leaned against the rock wall, his right hand gripping his scepter tightly, his left hand supporting his wounded thigh. Cracks were multiplying in his armor, and the purple light flickered intermittently. He looked up into the darkness ahead, his eyes no longer filled with anger, but with an almost Beast- like alertness.
He knew someone was coming.
Moreover, the people who came were much more troublesome than the noisy group from before.
He gritted his teeth and slowly propped himself up.
We can't stop.
We have to go.
Even if it means crawling, we have to crawl out of this hellhole.
He dragged his left leg and moved forward step by step.
Behind him, Ye Mo opened his eyes and took the next step.