Chapter 37: Sister, you're out of bullets, huh?

“You’re asking for death!” The man’s face twisted in fury, glaring at the blood-splattered dress now ruined beyond repair.

Tang Yan stared back, expressionless, her gun still leveled at him—no second shot yet. “Just you?”

The man flicked a disgusted glance at his soiled hem. “Of course. One man is all it takes to kill you. Damn it—this was my favorite dress.”

“Huh,” Tang Yan sneered. “Guess you just don’t know how to look where you’re going.” She was buying time, stalling.

“Don’t bother trying to provoke me,” he snapped. “The only exit’s right here—with me. You won’t leave unless I’m dead. And you *will* die.” His voice dripped with arrogance, as if he’d already claimed her life.

Tang Yan straightened fully, eyes narrowing sideways at him. “Oh? Really?”

Before the words even left her lips, she blurred across the room.

Blood on the floor splashed up in violent arcs as she moved—fast, precise, relentless. The man flinched, eyes wide with panic. “Damn it—don’t come near me! My dress!”

In an instant, she was behind him. No hesitation. A single shot rang out.

The gunshot echoed through the silence. Then—stillness.

Tang Yan froze.

Before her stood a statue. The man, frozen mid-scream, turned to stone. The bullet remained embedded in his chest, perfectly lodged.

“Hahaha—fast move, girl. Real scary. But I’m not playing rough. I’ll just wait here… and starve you to death.” The man’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere—sharp, mocking, echoing off the empty walls.

Tang Yan listened closely. The room was rigged with signal jammers—no tech would work. “A grown man hiding like this? Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“Say whatever you want. The one who dies is you.”

She couldn’t pinpoint the source of the voice. Talking to this coward was pointless. Better to save her strength.

She stayed alert, scanning every shadow, trying to reach out—nothing. No signal. No help.

The blood on the floor kept spreading. Now it crept up her calves, inching toward her knees. Even if she stood still, she’d be swallowed by it soon. Behind her, the wall groaned—cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster.

Tang Yan watched it carefully. Then—*a sound*. A high-pitched *whistle*, slicing through the air.

Her hacker instincts kicked in. She dropped low, twisting sideways—just in time.

A razor-sharp dart tore past her cheek, slamming into the far wall with a sickening thud. Blood welled along her jawline.

“Tsk tsk. Such a pretty face—now ruined. What a shame.”

The voice came again—muffled, distorted, like it was coming from behind a wall.

Tang Yan let out a dry chuckle. “Even if I’m scarred, I’d still beat you hands down.”

Then she lunged—faster than a bullet—straight for the wall.

Her boot slammed into the false panel. It collapsed instantly.

Behind it stood the man, fanning himself lazily, fingers dancing over a keyboard. A monitor glowed before him.

He gasped, startled. “You—what are you—”

Before he could finish, the wall reassembled behind him. Tang Yan surged forward, gun raised.

He dropped to his knees, swinging his fan wildly. A flurry of sharp, metallic feathers shot toward her.

They dodged each other’s attacks—graceful, desperate. Tang Yan’s ammo was running low. So was his fan’s supply.

Then—she reached it.

The main console.

“Die,” she whispered.

One glance. Three seconds. She knew exactly what each key did.

The man panicked. He bolted for the blood pool, fumbling for his key.

But as he pulled it free—*the ceiling cracked open*.

From above, three ravenous beasts dropped like vultures, claws slashing, jaws snapping. They pounced on him without mercy.

Within seconds, he was gone—ripped apart, consumed.

The creatures turned their hungry gaze toward Tang Yan.

She didn’t flinch.

With her last few bullets, she picked them off—one by one.

Victory.

She wiped the blood from her face with her thumb, then bent down and took the key from the man’s limp hand.

“Thanks.”

Stepping out onto the second floor, she was drenched in the stench of blood. As she climbed the stairs to the third floor, a figure fell from above—familiar, broken.

“Nightfall?” Her voice caught. Nightfall’s arm bled freely, eyes locked on the sky, cold and fierce.

Tang Yan rushed to support her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Nightfall muttered, pushing her hand away. “Everyone upstairs’s insane. Watch your back.”

She stood, silent, distant.

Tang Yan followed, step by step, until they reached the fourth floor.

Nightfall had already broken through alone when she’d been trapped on the second.

“Here,” she said, handing Tang Yan a grenade.

“There are two inside—one kid, one woman. The woman’s nuts—rocket launcher, blowing things to hell. The kid? Not right in the head. Always laughing, hugging that doll like it’s alive. I’ve seen him—he’s weak, but smart. Too smart.”

“You take the kid. I’ll handle the woman. If you can’t get out, blow the grenade. I’ll find you.”

Nightfall spoke clearly, calmly. Then she vanished again into the dark.

Tang Yan followed her plan. She kicked open the door to the back room—and stepped into a child’s nightmare.

Toys scattered everywhere. A nursery full of broken dolls, stuffed animals, crayon drawings on the walls.

In the middle sat a boy. Hunched, quiet. Cradling a ragged doll stitched together from mismatched parts. Its face was half-smile, half-mad.

“Sister?” The boy turned slowly. Eyes half-lidded. Mouth stretched wide in a grin.

Tang Yan had seen that smile once before.

It sent ice down her spine.

Her fingers tightened around the grenade. Her gun rose, aimed.

“Gigglegiggle… Sister, your gun’s empty.” The boy toyed with the doll, whispering to it. His smile never faded—deep, knowing, like he’d seen everything.

That was it.

He’d watched her fight.

“Even if it’s empty,” she said, voice low, “I can still shoot you.”

The boy didn’t answer.

He just leaned into his doll, whispering secrets only it could hear.