Chapter 218

Chapter 218: After the Overflow Faded

Yu Sheng stood perfectly still at the doorway. One hand held the passage to the valley open, but his eyes were locked on the hall’s depths—on the stairwell leading down underground.

He was certain he had seen the Hunter.

Old hunter’s clothing. A heavy hood. Nothing at all beneath it. The Hunter had stood in his line of sight. It lasted only a blink, but in that blink… it had been staring this way.

Why did the Hunter appear?

Because Little Red Riding Hood left last, so the black forest subset hadn’t fully faded yet?

Because something still remained inside this building?

Or because Anka Aila’s activity was intensifying even further?

Yu Sheng was sure of one more thing: the other side had been looking directly at him. That mysterious Hunter—was it trying to communicate?

He frowned hard.

A figure leaned into view from the valley side of the open doorway. Irene peered through with open curiosity. “Huh? Yu Sheng, why aren’t you coming over?”

“Take Little Red Riding Hood and the others and get the children settled first,” Yu Sheng said quickly. “I’ll check a bit more on this side and come over soon.”

“Oh.” Irene nodded without pressing. “Then come over early. There are a bunch of little kids here. I’m scared once they get used to it, they’ll start grabbing me. I can’t handle that…”

Yu Sheng gave a vague acknowledgment. Then he released the handle.

The doorway to the valley snapped shut. The bright scenery vanished, leaving only the empty courtyard outside the east building, soaked in night.

With caution prickling under his skin, Yu Sheng checked the first floor, then climbed to the second, moving slowly down the corridor.

The lights were still on. Doors stood open everywhere. In the rooms, traces of the children’s hurried transfer remained—beds unmade, clothes and bottles left on tables, chairs knocked over and abandoned on the floor.

In the empty hallways, only Yu Sheng’s footsteps echoed.

No strange noises. No sudden flares outside the windows. No shadows slipping out of walls.

He checked the second and third floors and found nothing abnormal.

It seemed that once the children were moved, the fairy tale overflow really had stopped. The Hunter’s appearance had been an aftershock at most.

…Was it really only that?

Yu Sheng still held a sliver of doubt when his phone rang.

Song Cheng.

The emergency transfer to the valley site meant the engineering staff there had been notified, and that message would naturally reach the Special Operations Bureau.

Yu Sheng answered and spoke first. “The children have been transferred in an emergency. The overflow inside the orphanage has stopped. All the illusions that entered reality have faded. I’m checking the corridors now. I’m the only one left here.”

“Good,” Song Cheng said, audible relief in his voice. “As long as the overflow stopped… A squad is already on the way. They’ll arrive in about ten minutes. After that, they’ll take over monitoring the area.”

“Alright. I’ll wait.” Yu Sheng looked out a corridor window at the sky—the same direction that had been lit by anti-air fire earlier. “Just now, the overflow was everywhere. Some of it even seemed to extend beyond the orphanage wall, or up into the sky. Did it affect the surrounding area much?”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to tell you,” Song Cheng said, his tone turning grim. “So far, we haven’t received any eyewitness reports. The sensing equipment we set up around the orphanage also didn’t detect any abnormal signals. We’re rushing to verify data from other sensors and nearby nodes, but right now… it looks like none of the equipment captured the overflow you described.”

Yu Sheng stopped walking.

Those nightmare spillovers had looked massive—gunfire and flames tearing into the sky. And yet outside the orphanage, there was no sign at all?

No eyewitness reports made sense; it was late, and the orphanage had node devices to keep ordinary people away. But if even nearby monitoring equipment caught nothing, that wasn’t right.

…Did that mean the spillovers were only visible within the orphanage’s range?

Yu Sheng shared the thought. Song Cheng went silent for a moment.

“…Very likely,” Song Cheng said at last. “Those overflow phenomena are still, in essence, nightmares from the fairy tale members. They aren’t physical objects intruding into reality. You also said they left no traces after fading, which means their ‘visibility’ is heavily limited.”

“Then we should feel lucky,” Yu Sheng said, letting out a slow breath, “that we controlled the overflow while those things were still illusions.”

Headlights swept past the orphanage wall outside. Several beams of light cut across the dark.

Song Cheng’s voice came through the phone. “Our people are there. They’re at the door.”

“I see them. I’ll go down and meet them.”

Yu Sheng went to the front entrance. The moment he stepped out, he saw several black vans marked with the Special Operations Bureau logo parked along the wall. Doors opened. More than ten agents in full gear poured out—armed to the teeth, crisp and practiced.

And among them was a face Yu Sheng knew far too well.

Li Lin.

Yu Sheng froze. For a second, he almost didn’t recognize him. Li Lin was in full tactical armor, rifle in hand—an FPS-game level of professional.

Meanwhile, Yu Sheng’s clearest memory of Li Lin was still him squatting by a supermarket, eating discount instant noodles like a wannabe tough guy.

Those two images refused to overlap until Li Lin walked close enough for Yu Sheng to raise a hand, belatedly, in greeting.

“Uh… it’s you?”

“Yeah.” Li Lin nodded, then snapped to attention and delivered a stiff, trained line. “Special Operations Bureau Second Action Battalion, ‘Fairy Tale’ Emergency Response Team, Li Lin. Now acting as onsite person in charge, taking over monitoring and garrison duties for this area!”

Yu Sheng listened, half-dazed, and couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “…You’re the onsite person in charge?”

“I was pulled in last minute too,” Li Lin said, face souring as he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Brother Yu… I’m freaking out.”

That familiar tone finally made the whole thing click. Yu Sheng couldn’t help laughing.

Then he asked, curious, “Where’s Xu Jiali?”

“He’s a deep diver,” Li Lin replied quietly. “Standby at headquarters. If Otherworld really loses control, that’s when he’ll be deployed. Our job is just to watch this place.” He glanced toward the building. “So—how is it inside right now?”

“Nothing’s happening now,” Yu Sheng said. “Earlier, it was lively.”

He gave Li Lin a rough rundown of what had happened in the orphanage. “Basically, after the children evacuated, the overflow stopped. But we can’t confirm whether the orphanage itself has any mutation factors, so it still needs eyes on it. I’m heading back to watch the shelter site. This place is yours.”

“Copy that.” Li Lin nodded immediately. In that moment, he really did look like an elite agent. “Leave it to us. You can relax.”

Yu Sheng didn’t linger. After briefing Li Lin on the key traits and precautions of the overflow, he waved, made a quick report by phone, and did a Door Opening to the valley.

And in the very first second after stepping through, Irene’s shrill voice slammed into his ears.

“Ahhh, Yu Sheng! Help! Somebody come manage these little children!”

Yu Sheng jolted. Several dollheads were running in circles across the grass not far away. Irene was being chased like a rabbit, her short legs pumping so hard she looked like she might throw sparks.

Farther off, he saw fairy tale guardians leading groups of children resting on the grass and platform. Little Red Riding Hood was talking with the person in charge near the shelter site’s construction area.

And a fox young lady came sprinting toward him.

Good. The children were adapting. Relief loosened something in Yu Sheng’s chest.

He smiled and headed toward the fox young lady, who waved wildly and shouted, “Benefactor! Benefactor! Human pups are so fun!”

Yu Sheng laughed—then stopped dead.

His eyes finally caught what was happening on the far side of the platform.

Several fox tails wreathed in blue flame whipped through the air above the grass, and each tail had a thrilled dollhead hanging from it like a swinging toy.

Cold sweat broke out instantly. “…Holy crap! You can’t play like that!”

Irene, still sprinting in circles, screamed even louder than Yu Sheng. “You really can’t play like that! Does anyone even care?!”