After finishing everything, The Vault sat in a daze for a while. She turned sideways and took a few tools out of her bag, hiding them in her sleeves and pockets. When she was about to get out of the car, she hesitated, then raised her hand to turn on the car radio.

A woman’s voice, heavy with emotion, spoke:

“…Alright, our frontline reporter has just sent in the latest update. Just now, Nancy Dawson’s mother locked herself in a room and attempted suicide by slitting her wrists. Fortunately, a police officer noticed something was wrong in time, broke in, and rescued her. She has now been sent to the hospital for treatment. As for her specific condition, our reporter is still waiting at the hospital for more information…”

“If any citizens have discovered traces of Nancy Dawson, please provide clues to the police as soon as possible. If, Nancy Dawson, you are also listening to this broadcast right now, your mother is currently at the city’s People’s Hospital and is still in critical condition. Please come back, please come back to see her. She really needs you.”

The Vault listened to this message very intently, her thoughts growing sluggish, lingering for a long time on the words “for treatment.”

She suddenly wondered if, in the memories that had been blocked from her, there was something about Logan Carter’s ending.

Perhaps Logan Carter wasn’t as lucky as in the game—she was already gone.

The Vault tugged at the corner of her mouth and sneered, “Humans always like to do meaningless things to comfort themselves…”

She wouldn’t give up her own plans for the sake of an NPC, and Logan Carter wouldn’t come back to life just because of a game setting. The opposing command still had to allocate limited manpower, going to great lengths to save an NPC, even pouring so much emotion into them—was it meaningful?

They used so many methods, trying to make a “fugitive player” change their mind—was it meaningful?

The muscles on The Vault’s face twitched, almost imperceptibly starting to tremble. By the time she noticed, tears had already dripped onto her pants, leaving a pure black dot.

The Vault raised her hand and forcefully wiped away her tears. Through her blurred vision, she looked at the towering buildings ahead.

It was.

A profession that can decide the fate of others really does require a bit of faith and selflessness.

If only, back then, the people in charge of the case had been them.

The Vault lowered her head, wiped her face clean, and put on her mask again. After collecting herself, she walked resolutely out of the car.

·

Ten minutes later, while patrolling the streets in his car, Julian Grant heard an urgent report from a colleague over the radio.

“Bad news! A warehouse in the East Commercial District has caught fire. There are a lot of flammable materials nearby, and the caller said someone is trapped inside, but the details are still unclear. Because we set up checkpoints at the intersections, several roads are congested, and the fire trucks are stuck outside… They’re asking us to clear the roads as soon as possible to help them control the fire. What should we do?”

Julian Grant was stunned for a moment, and after a while, squeezed out a sentence: “…What a ruthless woman.”

Chapter 52: Instance Cleared

Julian Grant and the others did not panic because of this. A stalemate that has lasted so long inevitably needs some accident to break it, and a fire at this moment seemed reasonable. For them, it might not be all bad.

In fact, they had been waiting for this opportunity.

Their only worry was that The Vault was too cunning, and they might not be able to seize this chance, letting her slip away.

After confirming the location of the fire trucks, they discussed the map and decided to withdraw personnel from checkpoint six, luring The Vault to enter and exit from that spot. They also set up additional surveillance equipment nearby to closely monitor all vehicles and people passing through during this period.

Seeing that his position was not far from the fire, Julian Grant volunteered to take charge of the fire scene, taking a shortcut to rush over.

Unexpectedly, the commercial district was densely populated, and everyone loved to watch the commotion, so the road to the fire scene was severely jammed, leaving him stuck in an awkward spot.

Car horns blared one after another, the traffic barely moved, and the people behind grew irritable and started cursing.

Julian Grant got out of the car and jogged over to check the situation, only to find that a pedestrian had jaywalked, causing a three-car rear-end collision.

Although the accident wasn’t serious and there were no casualties, the cars were blocking the road, and one of them was a large truck, so it would be hard to clear the way quickly.

Julian Grant was both amused and exasperated.

He returned to his car and listened as Wallace Franklin reorganized the teams over the radio. When the other paused briefly, he cut in and said, “There’s been a car accident at my location. Anyone with a car, don’t come this way.”

He reported the number marked on the map.

“I’ll walk over now, so I might not reach the scene in time. Are there any brothers already near the fire? What’s the situation? How many people are trapped? Be sure to watch out for any suspicious individuals nearby. It’s possible that Nancy Dawson hasn’t left the scene yet.”

“I’m here…”

A young, hoarse, and weak voice came through the earpiece. This player kept trying to suppress his voice, but ended up coughing even harder. It took several tries before he managed to get out a complete sentence.

“This smoke really stings the eyes.” The player was genuinely crying, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Right now, only one building is on fire, and the area isn’t large. But the building is old and has fire hazards, so it needs to be put out quickly. We’re not sure what’s stored in the warehouse yet—we’re still trying to contact the owner.”

In front of him was a small cluster of old warehouses, built behind the bustling commercial street. Unlike the modern, developed shopping district, this place seemed too run-down, still retaining the atmosphere of decades past. But because of its location, the government found it hard to redevelop, so it had just been left as is.

Thick black smoke was pouring out of the windows, shooting up into the sky like wolf smoke, attracting countless onlookers.

These NPCs didn’t have the players’ keen senses, but they were still sneezing from the smoke, making the scene even more chaotic.

The young player stood at the front of the crowd, continuing to inch forward while reporting the situation to his team.

“I suspect it’s burning dried chili peppers—there might be spices stored here. I’m from the south, so I’m not used to it.” The young player found a spot sheltered from the wind, and after a while, felt a bit better, taking deep breaths before continuing, “There are too many bystanders nearby. I haven’t found the caller yet, and no residents have said their family members are trapped inside. People are relatively calm, only a few warehouse owners are a bit out of control.”

Julian Grant asked, “Is the fire serious?”

“The smoke is really thick, but I haven’t seen any flames yet.” The young officer covered his mouth and nose, making his voice muffled. “My eyes keep watering, I can’t open them, so I can’t see very clearly.”

Julian Grant ran to the intersection. Looking up, he could already see the black haze shrouding the sky. It kept spreading and rising, making the already gloomy sky even darker.

Julian Grant thought for a moment and said, “From what I know about the player controlling Nancy Dawson, even in a game, she wouldn’t trap innocent people in a fire just to create an escape opportunity for herself.”

Wallace Franklin trusted him, because he was the same kind of person. Crime Analysis, this fully immersive simulation game, was too realistic—he couldn’t let himself go just because it was virtual. For people with self-control, their bottom line is always there.

Besides, with so much smoke at the scene, if there really was a fire, it should be raging. The player still hadn’t seen any flames, so it was very likely a fake fire.

Wallace Franklin asked, “Have the fire trucks gotten in yet?”

“Almost, we’re clearing the vehicles now. Should be five minutes.”

Wallace Franklin said, “Everyone near the fire scene, prioritize your own safety. There’s a high chance there aren’t any citizens trapped inside. Xiao He, can you come to my location now? Let’s all keep an eye on the surveillance at the checkpoint. You’re more familiar with the player controlling Nancy Dawson—maybe you can help a lot.”

Julian Grant replied, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Julian Grant handed his car over to a nearby colleague, ran past the accident site, and had someone pick him up to meet Wallace Franklin.

·

There were twenty or thirty people in the surveillance command center—the largest group Wallace Franklin could assemble in a short time. When Julian Grant pushed open the door, everyone was focused on the screens, too busy to notice his arrival.

Wallace Franklin rubbed his eyes and rewound the footage, replaying the scene he hadn’t seen clearly earlier.

Escape requires tools. If Nancy Dawson wanted to quickly leave the encirclement, she would likely choose a vehicle as transportation. That meant, if they wanted to catch Nancy Dawson, they had to speed up, or they’d fall behind again.

From the beginning until now, they’d had the advantage of numbers, but hadn’t achieved any obvious results.

Julian Grant pulled out a chair and sat in the empty seat next to Wallace Franklin, eyes on the screen, saying, “The player controlling Nancy Dawson can’t drive, so she might hitch a ride with someone else, or take a taxi. We can…”