"Don't come near me!" Zhang Heng snarled in a low voice, his eyes still vacant. Zheng Zha couldn't fathom his thoughts, but the incessant pressure radiating from him was terrifyingly real, leaving Zheng Zha utterly deprived of the right to speak. He feared that even a whisper would prompt Zhang Heng to loose that arrow, for the power of Junzi Tandangdang was something he currently could neither evade nor block. If the previous arrow had been a near-fatal stroke of luck, this one promised certain death with no chance of injury.

(What to do? If I were Zhang Heng? If I were Zhao Yingkong? If I were Zero Point? If I were Chu Xuan? If it were Chu Xuan!) Zheng Zha slowly raised a hand, an action that instantly coated him in cold sweat, terrified that the slightest provocation would cause Zhang Heng to fire. Fortunately, Zhang Heng held back.

He merely stared blankly toward the top of Zheng Zha's head, while Zheng Zha reached down to his left chest, probing the arrow wound with his fingers. With a gentle twist, blood instantly spurted outward.

The wound, which had just begun to subtly close.

The twist tore it open anew, sending a spray of fresh blood flying a considerable distance; some of it landed squarely on Zhang Heng’s face.

Zhang Heng’s brow twitched slightly, and the blankness in his eyes began to recede. His limbs started to tremble, and finally, the arrow aimed at Zheng Zha shot forth, slicing past the skin of Zheng Zha’s scalp by mere millimeters. The whistling sound of its passage only returned after the arrow had already traveled far away.

The displaced air current had actually grazed his skin; the power of that shot was in no way inferior to the blast from a Gauss sniper rifle.

Zheng Zha’s heart remained icy. He turned to look back; there was no trace of the arrow remaining, only a hole the size of several coins etched into the wall, suggesting the projectile had pierced straight through. Just then,

The outer surface of the small hole on the wall suddenly fractured lightly, a crack splitting the wall vertically in two. Then more fissures erupted, until the entire wall was covered in a complex, spiderweb-like network of cracks. Before Zheng Zha could process it,

The wall shattered completely, collapsing into rubble. A solid, concrete structure was reduced to scattered stones by a single arrow. The sheer destructive force was appalling. After releasing the shot, Zhang Heng immediately collapsed to the ground, rolling in agony.

Foam bubbled from his mouth, and his muscles seized violently. It appeared to be the lingering aftermath of unlocking his Gene Lock for the first time—a painful trial that proved agonizingly difficult to manage.

Zheng Zha sighed and rushed to Zhang Heng’s side, slapping him once to render him unconscious. He then turned to Xiao Honglu, who promptly swallowed an apple in two gulps. “I’ll handle it myself, no need to trouble you.”

Having finished the apple, he grabbed a nearby flowerpot and smashed it onto his own head. As the pot broke, he too tumbled to the ground in a daze.

Zheng Zha watched the small boy, a mixture of exasperation and amusement on his face. Before the boy could hit the ground, Zheng Zha lunged forward and caught him, placing him gently beside Zhang Heng, who was still convulsing slightly. The pale young man still clutched the ancient bow, Gushe Tianlang, in his hand, appearing deeply frightened.

Zhang Heng suffered from combat aversion, characterized by sheer cowardice—a timidity rooted in his fear of seeing others injured and his dread of being wounded himself. When shooting his first arrow from a distance, his aim was typically precise and powerful; however, the moment he anticipated an attack, that precision would dissolve into hesitant withdrawal. Zheng Zha wouldn't normally have considered this, but recalling how Chu Xuan would act in his position—that coolly ruthless man—he instinctively chose to exacerbate his own wound. When the blood splattered onto Zhang Heng, regardless of whether his Gene Lock was active, Zheng Zha had no choice but to take that gamble. If Chu Xuan had been standing where he was, that man would have calculated at least a fifty-fifty chance of causing Zhang Heng to falter or even completely lose control of the shot! As expected, the moment the blood hit him, Zhang Heng’s entire focus disintegrated. That instinctual terror suppressed his combat drive, leading him to yield just before releasing the arrow. What Zheng Zha hadn't anticipated was that this very weakness in Zhang Heng would ultimately save him.

Zheng Zha looked at Zhang Heng and sighed, murmuring, “Impressive. The power of that arrow was more terrifyingly immense than I imagined. If that one had hit true, no one could have withstood its force. What a pity.”

With that, Zheng Zha turned and sprinted toward the stairwell.

Climbing the exterior stairwell of the building, it took only a few minutes for Zheng Zha to reach the rooftop of the broadcasting tower. Aside from a single transmission antenna at the highest point, the rest of the roof was flat, buffeted by swift, cool winds blowing in from afar. Zhang Jie and the Classical Beauty were seated near the edge of the roof, gazing at the distant scenery.

“You’re late, Zheng Zha,” Zhang Jie said, smiling without turning his head.

Zheng Zha spat out a mouthful of blood that had been rising in his throat; his self-inflicted injuries had only worsened the damage. After coughing the blood out, he snarled, “Damn it, stop acting so familiar! Comrades don't do this to each other! Order Zhao Yingkong to stop immediately—she’s still hunting Zhan Lan!” Zhang Jie patted the Classical Beauty’s hand, then turned to face Zheng Zha. “Apologies. My skills are Gaze of Suggestion and Telekinesis. It’s merely powerful mental suggestion. It can cause a backlash in other psychics, but in truth, I’m not controlling them. That kind of control prevents them from using their full strength; it’s only suggestion, so I can’t command Zhao Yingkong. All that remains in her mind is the imperative to kill any enemy. And from this distance, how could I use my eyes to suggest anything to her? Unless…”

“Unless what?” Zheng Zha roared.

Zhang Jie chuckled. “Unless you defeat me. Once the source of this suggestion is beaten, Zhao Yingkong will naturally return to normal. It seems she’s almost caught her target? You probably have two or three minutes left. Once she catches up, it will be an instant kill. By then, you won’t even have time to bring her back to the Main God space for revival. So, do you intend to defeat me now?”

Zheng Zha gritted his teeth fiercely, giving his High-Vibration Particle Cutting Dagger a sharp shake. He spoke coldly, “Zhang Jie, tell me the truth, or I’ll knock you out. Do you really want to die?”

Zhang Jie gave a wry smile. “Who wants to die? No one wants to die. If I could just live on quietly with my beloved somewhere safe for the rest of my life, I’d gladly give up all my power. But are you planning to talk slowly? You’re running out of time.”

Zheng Zha let out a shout, charging forward with the dagger in hand. As he rushed, the micro submachine gun in his other hand unleashed a furious volley toward Zhang Jie.

Pop-pop-pop!

A string of gunshots erupted, the bullets hurtling toward Zhang Jie, but to Zheng Zha’s astonishment, the dense spray of projectiles halted abruptly about two meters in front of Zhang Jie, seemingly frozen in mid-air, unable to advance even half a step.

“Double-A skill, Telekinesis. As an Initiator, I can utilize one hundred percent of the original power of an enhanced attribute or skill. This is an inherent talent slant for an Initiator. You want to know what an Initiator is? I’ll tell you,” Zhang Jie said, waving a hand dismissively. All the bullets instantly reversed direction toward Zheng Zha. Fortunately, they were all oriented with the casing first, so they only stung him slightly upon impact; otherwise, he wouldn’t have had time to dodge so many bullets.

“Initiators are anthropomorphic intelligences designed by the Main God. They blend into the team like ordinary people, surviving and operating normally, but they cannot die. If one dies in a Horror Movie, one of the newcomers in the next will certainly be an Initiator. In your terms, we are created virtual personalities—we don't truly exist.” Zhang Jie continued speaking, then swept his hand again. An invisible force surged, tearing up the rooftop floor and rocketing toward Zheng Zha. The speed wasn't particularly fast, but since nearly the entire roof was within the attack's range, Zheng Zha was forcefully hurled halfway into the air by the unseen power.

“First, Initiators cannot help the team overcome crucial difficulties, especially not as the primary combat force. Second, Initiators cannot strike any team member except the designated Captain. Third, once the designated Captain passes a trial, the Initiator vanishes while granting the Captain an increase of one Gene Lock level, along with the authority and position of Captain.”

“Since I am the captain of the Central Continent Team, I am also an Initiator. During the A Nightmare on Elm Street horror film, the trial was passed, but an accident occurred during the integration. The trial-taker was killed. Upon absorbing his memories and body, some parts of me exceeded the Main God’s restrictions. I am both the Central Continent Team Captain and an Initiator. I cannot serve as the main combat power against the film’s threat, yet I can strike any member of the team.” As Zhang Jie spoke, Zheng Zha was blasted beyond the roof’s edge by the force, plummeting toward the exterior of the broadcasting tower before leaping out—