In the early morning hours, a blood-covered vagabond rushing through a park forest and attacking anyone in sight—especially one who seemed deranged—was highly unusual.

Considering that the person might also be suffering from some disease and given his disturbing appearance, the group was momentarily speechless.

Song Qinglan took the flashlight from Ji Yushi and turned it off.

As they were plunged back into darkness, Ji Yushi heard Song Qinglan say, “We should have checked the almanac before leaving. We just broke the record for the quickest Guardian team to be discovered by the natives. No one is allowed to report this when we get back, or Team Nine will surpass us in points.”

Ji Yushi: “…”

Song Qinglan’s tone was as casual as ever, pulling everyone out of the eerie and strange atmosphere.

It served as a reminder: they were Guardians, currently in a timeline where they shouldn’t exist.

“We’ll leave the man here for now. Someone will eventually find him and report it to the authorities,” Song Qinglan said. “It’s pitch dark, and we can’t see anything. We need to get out and find a way to contact Sky Vault in this timeline. Be aware of your surroundings as we move out—there might be a crime scene nearby.”

The group responded in unison: “Yes!”

Before leaving the area, they distributed equipment as per protocol.

Zhou Mingxuan opened the armory, revealing an array of weapons—long guns, short guns, daggers, and combat knives. The Guardians were equipped with the most advanced gear, and each member had their specialty. They had to be ready for anything that might arise in this unfamiliar future timeline.

This was Ji Yushi’s first time carrying a weapon during a mission. When his turn came, he chose a handgun he had been practicing with in the private training room over the past few days.

The gun was silver-white, compact, and easy to carry and conceal.

“Diamond Bird,” Song Qinglan said, standing beside him and naming the gun. “It’s a model based on the old PPK from the last century—used by both Hitler and Bond. Consultant Ji, you’re quite the throwback.”

“What?” Ji Yushi was puzzled. How could choosing a gun make him a throwback?

But Song Qinglan didn’t explain further. He only added, “In situations like this, I’d choose something more protective. But it suits you.”

Ji Yushi: “…” He knew some people in the military referred to the Diamond Bird as a “woman’s gun.”

Song Qinglan, skilled in close combat, had a physique that reflected this—a body of well-toned, balanced muscle.

He calmly selected two combat knives, which he slid into the straps on his long legs, then chose a pair of gloves, a pair of brass knuckles, and finally picked up a shotgun.

“Shen Mian.”

—That was the gun’s codename. It was heavy and had enormous stopping power, much like the impression Song Qinglan himself left on people—reckless, domineering, and impossible to ignore.

After selecting their weapons, Song Qinglan asked, “You need to use your weapon when necessary, and preferably keep it on you at all times. But do you know what to do if a native catches you with a gun?”

He looked at Ji Yushi with a bit of a teasing expression and said, “Just tell them you’re a cop.”

As they left the forest, the team quickly realized they had arrived at a park.

Song Qinglan was right; as soon as they reached the main road in the park, they found a body under the streetlights. It wasn’t a whole body—only half remained, the exposed wounds gnawed on by some animal, immediately bringing to mind the crazed vagabond they had encountered earlier.

Thinking back to the chunks of flesh on the vagabond, everyone felt a wave of nausea.

Could this person have been eaten?

This wasn’t just the earliest they had been discovered by a native; it was also the most gruesome encounter they had ever faced.

The park was large, located in the city center, surrounded by tall buildings. It was already 5 a.m., a time when early risers—usually elderly people—would be out for a walk, but there wasn’t a single living person in sight.

Trash was strewn everywhere, on the lawns, benches—evidence of a lack of maintenance for a long time. The park felt desolate, and occasionally they spotted dried bloodstains on the ground, indicating that more than one crime had occurred here.

Looking up, they saw that aside from a few remaining streetlights in the park, there were no other signs of life—no lights in the distance, no activity in the towering buildings, which stood like lifeless hulks under the dark gray sky.

There were no sounds of traffic, no familiar morning noises. The city was eerily silent, as if it had fallen into deathly stillness.

What was even stranger was that the further they moved from the forest, the more the faint smell of rot in the air became noticeable, as if something more sinister awaited them just out of sight.

What had happened here?

A faint white line appeared on the horizon; the sun was about to rise.

Yet the vast, deserted park remained shrouded in shadow, an ominous and foreboding place.

Sensing the danger, Song Qinglan silently signaled to the group.

Everyone took up a defensive stance, moving cautiously as they scanned their surroundings.

Ji Yushi walked on Song Qinglan’s left, his elegant fingers gripping the gun, efficiently loading the Diamond Bird. His actions, at least, showed some degree of coordination with his teammates. However, based on Ji Yushi’s earlier reaction in the forest when faced with danger, Song Qinglan tilted his head slightly toward him.

Song Qinglan’s dark eyes conveyed a clear message: move to the middle of the team.

Ji Yushi, however, didn’t seem to have any awareness of his role as a “vase” and, as if oblivious to Song Qinglan’s intention, continued moving forward.

A few seconds later, he quickly said in a low voice, “Captain Song, eleven o’clock, park management office.”

Song Qinglan squinted in the direction Ji Yushi indicated, but it was pitch black, and he saw nothing.

Ji Yushi added, “It looks like there’s a light inside.”

One of the lowest requirements for an observer was to have sharp senses. When their former observer, Old Yu, was still around, Song Qinglan had relied on him as the team’s eyes, never doubting his judgment.

So, Song Qinglan said in a deep voice, “Let’s check it out.”

It turned out Ji Yushi’s eyesight was excellent.

After his reminder, the team walked a bit further and finally made out the building hidden beside the bushes. The low building had a sign hanging over the entrance: “PU-31 Central Park Management Office.”

“What the hell is PU-31?” someone whispered. “There’s no such place name!”

The group was puzzled. The current time coordinate was Star Era 1470. Although they had come from more than a decade earlier, this name was still unusual.

How had Ji Yushi read those small letters from such a distance?

Once they entered the building, Song Qinglan realized that the so-called light was just a desk lamp on a wooden desk in the corner.

Could this man’s eyes magnify the focal length?

The park management office was empty, just as lifeless as the world outside.

While several teammates checked other rooms, Song Qinglan picked up the communication device on the administrator’s desk, only to find it had shut down due to a lack of power. The desk itself was in disarray—keys, newspapers, logbooks, and takeout boxes scattered everywhere.

Soon, Tang Le returned: “Captain Song, there’s a body in the restroom!”

The body in the restroom was wearing a uniform, likely belonging to the park’s administrator.

The corpse was face down on the floor, with a large gash across the neck that extended through to the brain, revealing rotting flesh and clearly visible arteries. Song Qinglan casually grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his hand, and flipped the body over. Sure enough, the person’s face was pale, covered in dark blue, web-like veins, just like the vagabond they had encountered earlier. The only difference was that this body was stiff, with its eyes tightly shut, yet the face was frozen in a scream, the mouth wide open, with maggots wriggling inside—enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

In the small, enclosed space, the air was stagnant, and the stench was overwhelming, causing some to gag.

Without turning his head, Song Qinglan said, “Li Chun, try throwing up again, and see what happens.”

Everyone squeezed into the restroom turned to glare at Li Chun, who raised his hands innocently. “It wasn’t me this time!”

Ji Yushi, who was standing at the doorway, quickly covered his mouth and walked away.

Finally reached his limit? Song Qinglan wondered.

However, no matter who it was, Song Qinglan didn’t have time to manage his team’s psychological state at the moment.

He stared at the corpse for a few seconds, hesitating to touch it directly. Instead, he pulled out a combat knife from the strap on his leg and used the handle to lift the deceased’s eyelids.

As expected, the dead person’s eyeballs were just like the vagabond’s—gray and cloudy, with indistinguishable pupils.

Li Chun exclaimed, “Damn, it’s the same as that crazy guy! What is this? Some kind of infectious disease?”

Recalling how close he had come to being bitten—and thus infected—Li Chun felt a shiver of fear.

Song Qinglan said, “It’s possible, but we can’t be sure.”

Given the other body in the park and the bloodstains… Could a single crazed vagabond really have caused so many murders? He was skeptical.

Ji Yushi hadn’t actually thrown up.

When Song Qinglan returned to the administrator’s office, he found Ji Yushi examining the communication device that had no signal. Although his face was still a bit pale, he had composed himself.

Seeing them come in, Ji Yushi said, “I found a video.”

“I found the communication device’s charging port in the drawer,” Ji Yushi continued, emotionless and seemingly not used to speaking up in front of others. “After powering it on, I found this video, downloaded a month ago.”

The communication device projected the video.

A man with a pale face covered in dark blue, web-like veins appeared on the screen, his bulging, gray eyes filled with madness as he charged toward the camera. The person filming screamed, and as the video shook, the man was yanked back by a chain around his neck, which had left bloody marks from the struggle. Despite this, the man kept lunging with his mouth wide open, making guttural, hissing sounds.

The person filming was a woman, and her sobbing voice could be heard in the video: “Help! Help me… my husband has mutated! There are more of them outside! Please help me, I don’t want to die! I haven’t been bitten! Someone, please help me!”

The video ended with a close-up of the man’s horrifying face.

The group felt a chill run down their spines.

“Zombies!!”

“If these are really zombies, how many of them are out there?!”

“No wonder this place feels so weird!”

“And this video is from a month ago!”

Having just watched what felt like a real-life horror movie, Ji Yushi’s expression was also strange. “The communication device has no network, but I just received a message. It seems it was meant for us.”

Zhou Mingxuan asked in surprise, “The message appeared on the dead man’s communication device, but it’s addressed to us?”

He emphasized the word “us.”

It seemed too absurd.

But Ji Yushi confirmed it. “I think so.”

Song Qinglan calmly said, “Open it.”

A blue light flashed, and the holographic projection gradually lit up.

The team gathered around, looking at the projected message, exchanging bewildered glances.

[Welcome, Guardians from Star Era 1456, to PU-31.]

The familiar welcome from the Sky Vault system should have been a relief, but instead, it made everyone shiver with unease.

Not only because the message was indeed addressed to them, but also because new lines of text quickly followed.

[This time jump has been locked. It will unlock upon mission success.]

[Mission Mode: Ouroboros.]

[Mission Rules: Death Elimination.]

“Look!!” Tang Le, who was standing by the window, suddenly shouted, pointing outside.

Everyone rushed over.

They were all dumbfounded.

A black wall had suddenly appeared, stretching from the direction they had come from and rapidly spreading across the sky and ground.

No, it wasn’t exactly a black wall.

The best way to describe it was like a loading screen in a video game, a black screen that moved swiftly, engulfing everything in sight until it stopped just in front of the park management office.

A beeping sound came from the communication device.

The final line of text appeared on the projection.

[Mission Objective: Dark Pursuers.]