Chapter Twenty: Suddenly, Everything Fell into Chaos

As a hail of bullets clattered to the ground at Qi Chen’s feet, the expressions of the onlookers abruptly changed. Those within the city managed to keep their composure, but the Mistwalkers who spent their lives licking blood from the blade’s edge outside the city instantly retreated, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the unfolding danger.

Their sense for peril was keener than a hound’s nose. If this had merely been an armed skirmish or a mental disturbance caused by the mist, some might have lingered, watching the commotion with idle curiosity. But after witnessing Qi Chen halt bullets in midair as if by magic, not a soul dared remain close.

In their world, the existence of Eerie Walkers was more than mere rumor. All seasoned Mistwalkers had, at one point or another, dealt with individuals wielding uncanny powers. Their collective wisdom could be summed up in a single rule: keep as far away as possible. It was true in the mist, and it remained true within these city walls.

Qi Chen saw the shifting crowd, but paid them no mind. His gaze was fixed solely on the Special Forces officer whose aura seemed subtly tainted by something unnatural. The strange aura did not seem to be intrinsic to the man, but rather something that had passively clung to him for reasons unknown.

“Calm down! I’m with the Department of Eerie Affairs!”

Perhaps due to ingrained training, the Special Forces officer’s face flashed with confusion and desperate struggle at the mention of the department. He stared wide-eyed at Qi Chen, but abruptly let out a piercing scream:

“Eerie! It’s something eerie!” he howled, hysterical, and once again squeezed the trigger with wild abandon. The automatic fire flared ceaselessly from his muzzle.

But just as before, every bullet froze, suspended in midair by an invisible force before Qi Chen.

With a low growl, Overlord opened his massive hand and let the bullet casings fall to the ground. The spectral figure floated effortlessly to Qi Chen’s side, his starkly contrasting features betraying not the slightest emotion.

Confounded, Qi Chen could only deduce that the Special Forces officer was likely suffering from some kind of cognitive disturbance. In such a state, extracting any useful information from him was all but impossible.

All he could do was restrain the man, which posed little challenge.

Qi Chen advanced steadily. When the officer was within Overlord’s range, Qi Chen’s will lashed out, tearing the air with a spectral gray-white trail invisible to ordinary eyes.

A series of sharp cracks rang out as the officer’s standard-issue rifle was twisted into a compact ball by an unseen force. The man’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.

“Done,” Qi Chen exhaled in relief, though he remained vigilant, his wary gaze scanning the crowd.

The source of the officer’s affliction was still at large. According to Warmheart’s assessment, their enemy was likely another Eerie Walker, lurking in the shadows—very probably inside the Eastside Warehouse.

“Help! Somebody help!”

Suddenly, a terrified scream erupted from nearby, quickly joined by others in a rising chorus of panic.

The enemy was sowing chaos deliberately.

“Damn it!” Qi Chen glanced at the unconscious officer and two other wounded men at his feet, his face darkening. He turned to a cluster of bystanders standing nearby.

“You lot! Take care of them!”

With that, Qi Chen dashed toward the source of the new disturbance. The chosen bystanders exchanged miserable glances. They wanted to slip away, but if they still hoped to operate within the city, it was wisest to obey. The odds of being caught later were slim, but no one wanted to take the risk. Perhaps, by tending to the wounded, they might even earn some favors in the future.

Qi Chen didn’t need to remember their faces; it was enough that they remembered his.

Meanwhile, the din of screams and pleas for help from the chaotic scene grew ever more intense, and the zone of confusion expanded rapidly.

Before Qi Chen reached the heart of the chaos, he realized he was running against a tide of panicked people, all with terror etched on their faces. Some shouted about monsters, others called instinctively for their mothers.

Cognitive confusion was evident—a common ability among the eerie.

Without slowing, Qi Chen activated his communicator and connected with Warmheart.

“There’s something here that’s interfering with perception. Many have already fallen under its influence, and the situation is spiraling out of control!”

As he spoke, a crazed bystander suddenly lunged at Qi Chen, jaws wide as if to bite a chunk from his flesh.

With a dull thud, the attacker was floored in an instant.

Qi Chen offered a brief, apologetic nod, while Overlord—hovering behind—casually dusted off his hands and surged forward at full speed.

Warmheart’s reply crackled in his earpiece:

“Eerie powers that warp the mind aren’t something either of us can handle directly. But don’t worry—I’ve already reported to Captain Fu. She’s requested the City Garrison’s support. The entire Eastside Warehouse will be sealed off within ten minutes.

“Six teams of Eerie Walkers are en route to assist. Your top priority is to keep yourself safe.

“Remember, our enemy is hidden, but neither of us has suffered a direct mental attack yet. That means their power probably can’t be used remotely—it likely requires some medium, maybe even close contact.

“Stay alert around anyone who approaches you. Rely on your uncanny abilities and keep the advantage!”

Qi Chen had only intended to report in, but Warmheart’s long, earnest response caught him off-guard.

Was this what it felt like to be cared for?

An unfamiliar energy surged within him—something he’d rarely, if ever, felt before.

“Who’s that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Qi Chen spotted a figure moving swiftly toward him. He instinctively furrowed his brow, and Overlord, sharing his thoughts, sent an urgent warning.

The newcomer radiated a strong eerie aura.

“Stop them!”

The command flashed through his mind, and Overlord roared, fists clenched, lunging to the edge of his projection range. His fierce gaze locked onto the stranger.

Yet the figure seemed oblivious, staggering forward. As they stepped within striking distance, Overlord swung a controlled punch—enough to knock someone out, but not kill.

With a solid thud, the blow landed, and the target collapsed, momentum carrying them forward.

No anomaly followed.

Had he been mistaken?