Frank gazed through the smeared glass of the bus window, his eyes scanning the landscape as they neared the village. The countryside unfurled before him; it was only a couple of hours away from the city yet the scenery was vastly different—a mosaic of muted greens and browns stitched together under a sky heavy with clouds. Beside him, Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on his knee. Across the aisle, Ollie reclined with an air of nonchalance, his eyes shut, yet his body remained coiled, ready for action.

With a jolt, the bus shuddered to a halt at the village entrance. Frank rose, his muscles protested after the long journey. He muttered with a grunt under his breath, "This is it."

The three men disembarked, their footsteps echoing in the quiet. Frank barely had time to turn and offer a nod of gratitude to the driver before the bus's engine growled back to life. It pulled away, leaving a plume of dust in its wake that swirled down the winding road, slowly dissipating into the gloom.

Frank took a moment to survey their surroundings, his keen detective's eyes scanning every detail. The village sprawled out before them, a haphazard arrangement of timeworn buildings barely put together and paths overrun with weeds. Dilapidated structures leaned against one another, their paint peeling and windows clouded with grime and cobwebs. An eerie silence hung in the air, a stillness that felt unnatural, almost oppressive. The absence of life—no barking dogs, no chattering villagers, not even the rustle of leaves in the wind—sent a chill down Frank's spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, unseen eyes following their every move from the shadows of the decrepit buildings. The village seemed frozen in time, as if waiting for something - or someone - to breathe life back into its abandoned streets.

"Where is everyone?" Alan whispered, his eyes darting from building to building.

Frank shook his head. "Let's find out."

They moved through the village, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets. Frank pushed open a creaking door, revealing an abandoned home. Dishes sat unwashed in the sink, a half-eaten meal rotting on the table, most likely already days old.

"It's like they all just... vanished," Frank said, his voice tight.

The recollection of his recent dream, just prior to their departure for Guangzhou surfaced in his mind. The parallels were eerily striking.

As they continued down the main road, a police blockade came into view. The lights still flashed, casting eerie yellow shadows across the deserted street.

"No officers," Alan observed, his hand resting on his weapon.

Frank's unease grew. Something was very wrong here.

Ollie reached into his pocket, producing a small red marble. He tossed it into the air, letting it clatter to the ground. It rolled a short distance before stopping, pointing towards the dense forest beyond the village.

"Shit," Ollie muttered, his usual bravado faltering.

"What is it?" Frank asked, tension coiling in his gut.

Ollie's eyes met Frank's, a grim set to his jaw. "We're in a rift. Probably one that hasn't been cleaned yet."

Alan's face paled. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Ollie said, his voice low and serious, "that we're in a horribly dangerous situation. This is a rank 2 rift which means the surroundings haven't changed so it still looks like earth—but it isn't. It takes about 4-5 of me to clear this kind of rift by myself. The last one we were in would've been a class 4, but it was already cleaned. I was lucky I had my baby when I went up against that death knight."

"I don't like the sound of that, maaan. Frank, I told you man I had a bad feeling about this. Why do you gotta follow my bad feeling every time?" Alan complained.

"Don't you get it? You guys follow your hunches for a reason. Don't you understand why?"

"We gotta get out of here, so tell me. I'm all ears." Frank leaned in on Ollie's small frame.

"I already told you, you have some miniscule amount of ether, so does he. You both got powers that you've never really learned how to use." Ollie shook his head, his face contorted, then pointed at Frank, "From what I've seen, you have foresight. That drunk guy, the less drunk he is, the clearer is clairvoyance is. The only way we can get out of here alive is for you to use your powers."

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Frank replied immediately, "You want us to use our hunches to avoid the danger?"

Ollie nodded.

"That's something I can agree with. And I say we don't go through that forest. We look for another passing." Alan whimpered.

Frank watched as Alan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a new focus in his gaze.

"This way," Alan said, his voice uncharacteristically steady. He pointed towards a narrow path that wound its way up the mountainside, barely visible through the thick undergrowth.

Frank and Ollie exchanged glances but followed without question. As they trudged up the steep incline, the village below gradually disappeared from view, swallowed by the dense canopy of bamboo.

The bamboo forest was unnaturally quiet. No birds sang, no insects buzzed. The only sound was their labored breathing and the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. Frank's senses were on high alert, every shadow seeming to hide a potential threat.

Alan led them through the twisting path with surprising confidence. At times, he would pause, head tilted as if listening to some inaudible whisper, before changing direction.

"How're you doing this, Alan?" Frank asked, his voice low.

Alan shrugged, not breaking his stride. "I don't know, man. It's like... I can feel where we shouldn't go. Like there's a pressure pushing me away from certain areas. I'm just going with what my hunch tells me… you should do it too sometimes, Frank."

Ollie nodded approvingly. "I can see the ether coursing through you. You're picking up on the dangerous areas of the rift."

As they climbed higher, the air grew thinner and colder. The trees began to thin out, revealing glimpses of the cloudy sky above. Frank's legs burned with the exertion, but he pushed on, trusting in Alan's newfound ability.

Suddenly, Alan stopped, his body going rigid. "Wait," he hissed, throwing out an arm to halt their progress.

Frank froze, his hand instinctively moving to his weapon. "What is it?"

Alan's eyes darted around, his face pale. "Something's wrong. It's like... like something dangerous is up ahead but it's less dangerous than any other places.."

Ollie's eyes narrowed. He pulled out his red marble again, watching it intently. The marble dropped to the floor, and pointed just to the left side of where they were going. At least they were still going the correct direction.

"We gotta fight this time." Ollie handed Frank a rifle and Alan a rugged shotgun. "You know what to do. I'll go first and you guys watch your back. They'll most likely be drawn to me. Stay alive."

Frank watched as Ollie leap through the dense bamboo, his agile form disappearing for a moment before emerging into a small clearing. From his vantage point, Frank could see Ollie's shoulders relax slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The relief was short-lived, however, as Frank's eyes adjusted to the scene before them.

A group of wooden dolls stood motionless in the clearing, their blank faces turned towards Ollie. Frank's heart raced, his mind struggling to comprehend the eerie sight—these weren't ordinary dolls.

Suddenly, Ollie's hands flashed with movement. Two Bizon SMGs materialized in his grip, their magazines glowing an ominous crimson. Without hesitation, Ollie opened fire.

The clearing erupted into chaos. The wooden dolls, previously still as statues, sprang to life with unnatural speed. They lurched towards Ollie, their movements jerky and unpredictable.

Frank watched in awe as Ollie moved with fluid grace, weaving between the attacking dolls. The SMGs in his hands spewed fire, their reports echoing through the bamboo forest. Ollie spun, ducked, and leapt, never staying still for more than a second. His movements were almost beautiful in their deadly efficiency, a lethal dance choreographed to the rhythm of gunfire.

The crimson glow from the magazines cast an eerie light across the scene, illuminating the splintering wood of the dolls as Ollie's bullets tore through them. Yet for every doll that fell, it seemed two more emerged from the shadows of the forest.

Frank's heart raced as he followed Alan creeping through the shadowy forest, their eyes darting from tree to tree. They moved cautiously, every step calculated to avoid drawing attention.

Suddenly, a puppet burst from the undergrowth, its blank face turned towards them. Frank's breath caught in his throat as he instinctively pulled Alan down behind a fallen log. They watched, frozen, as the puppet jerked past them, drawn by the commotion Ollie was causing.

As they continued their careful progress, Frank caught glimpses of the clearing through the dense foliage. Ollie was a blur of motion, his SMGs flashing in the dim light. But even from this distance, Frank could see that the tide was turning. The puppets, relentless in their assault, were landing hits. Ollie stumbled back from a particularly vicious punch, his face contorted in pain.

Frank felt a surge of worry for their companion, but he knew they had to keep moving. He and Alan pressed on, using the distraction Ollie provided to put more distance between themselves and the horde.

Just as they reached what Frank hoped was a safe distance, he turned back for one last look. Ollie had disengaged from the puppets, flipping backwards with inhuman agility. As he landed, the SMGs vanished from his hands as if they'd never existed. In their place, an M4 materialized.

Without hesitation, Ollie squeezed the trigger. The forest erupted with light as streaks of brilliant azure burst from the weapon. The bullets orbited Ollie in a perfect sphere, expanding outward with devastating force. The trails danced through the air, weaving intricate patterns as they sought out their targets with unerring precision. Each streak followed by the sound of splintering wood and the sight of puppet fragments raining down upon the forest floor. The horde of puppets, which had seemed unstoppable moments before, was being decimated before his eyes.

In a matter of minutes, the horde's numbers dwindled until a solitary puppet remained. Ollie effortlessly targeted it and leapt towards the spot where Frank and Alan had been seated. A sizable chunk of ginseng root, at least a millennium old, found its way into Ollie's hands.

"A 1000 year old ginseng root. I should sell this to that Yu Mo guy, hehehe." Ollie promptly tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Where to now, Alan?"

"This way." Alan continued the lead.