Chapter 87

While Yang Yi and others were being hosted at Buckingham Palace, global audiences learned through various media that 90,000 spectators at Wembley Stadium had all become trapped; outside remote regions cut off from the outside world, over seven billion people simultaneously focused on the Wembley Stadium incident.

As Yang Yi boarded a supersonic aircraft bound for Britain, the news instantly spread across the globe via signals.

Governments worldwide expressed sympathy for Britain’s misfortune, and nations allied with Britain dispatched awakened teams and experts to provide support.

Of course, each country also compiled lists of their own citizens who had traveled to Britain for the opening ceremony, published them, and submitted them to Britain, urging swift rescue efforts.

This was merely standard procedure—when the bottomless chasm first appeared on news broadcasts, apart from the families of the trapped, almost no one held out hope.

Over ninety thousand people—enough to field a mid-scale national war—among them were kings and royal nobles from multiple countries; the scope of involvement and number of individuals affected made this the largest disaster since the arrival of dark matter. Even the S-rank disaster of the Fire Demon in Jinshan City, thanks to Yang Yi’s timely rescue, claimed fewer than twenty thousand lives.

Moreover, why had Wembley Stadium suddenly collapsed? What was the cause? Why did it happen precisely during the UEFA Champions League opening ceremony? Was there a conspiracy? Was it connected to alien life? To another dimension? Everything remained unknown.

Governments worldwide closely monitored the event, fearing similar incidents might occur in their own countries; as a result, all major events scheduled across nations were uniformly postponed.

Amid global panic, Yang Yi arrived at the British royal palace and was warmly received by the Prince.

Yang Yi was still unaware of the world’s intense attention.

Director Zhou, to avoid adding pressure, deliberately did not mention these matters or the organization’s expectations of her; he believed that if Yang Yi chose to act, she would do it best—and if she truly couldn’t, no one else could.

Most importantly, it was Yang Yi’s personal safety—that was the organization’s fundamental bottom line.

Before arriving, Director Zhou had already communicated with British authorities: no media interviews until the matter was fully resolved! He demanded Britain rein in its domestic media outlets prone to sensationalism and fabrication; should any deliberate pressure or smear campaigns against Yang Yi emerge, China had the right to immediately withdraw its rescue team.

This was also why Yang Yi’s convoy had been escorted all the way, directly into the palace—otherwise, the global media gathered in Britain’s capital would have blocked her vehicle on the road.

Yang Yi remained unaware of all this; she merely found it troublesome. She had always been impatient with social interactions—mainly due to mild social anxiety, whether the person was an ordinary citizen or a prince of a nation.

She clearly remembered why she had come; her detached demeanor toward these social formalities appeared to others as aloofness and coldness.

The Prince made several attempts to initiate conversation—direct requests or subtle hints—all intercepted by Director Zhou. Yang Yi merely maintained a polite smile, feigning limited proficiency in British English; after several rejections, the Prince finally gave up and turned to Director Zhou for negotiations.

After a reception filled with mutual interests, Yang Yi’s group finally left the palace and headed for Wembley Stadium—no, it was now called the Wembley Abyss.

Even en route, Yang Yi sensed violent fluctuations of dark matter in the air.

Dark matter fluctuations were usually smooth; they intensified only when psychics absorbed or used their abilities, when alien life moved, or when interdimensional rifts opened or closed.

Nations were urgently researching instruments to detect dark matter fluctuations, aiming to monitor alien life or spatial fissures; China had already made slight progress in this field.

The intensity of these fluctuations reminded Yang Yi of the interdimensional rift in Misty Town.

“Yang Yi, I’ll say it again: if you can save them, do your best—but if your own safety is at risk, prioritize yourself above all!” Director Zhou glanced at the chauffeur, uncertain whether the car had listening devices installed; he swallowed the words “even if it’s the king, even if it’s ninety thousand lives”—he couldn’t afford to leave any opening for criticism.

“I know—I’m a vital strategic resource for the state,” Yang Yi smiled.

“More than that—you’re our most important partner,” Director Zhou patted her shoulder.

Yang Yi paused, a faint stir in her chest, though her face showed nothing; she simply nodded silently.

They arrived at the destination. Yang Yi stepped out of the vehicle but did not look at the massive depression on the ground; instead, she frowned upward.

“What’s wrong? Is something amiss?” Feng Liancheng asked urgently.

Yang Yi said nothing, using her mental force to probe the air above—she sensed only chaotic dark matter fluctuations, nothing else.

But a strange intuition made her uneasy; she immediately flew into the sky, scanning the surroundings, and from above, glanced down at the enormous hole.

The hole was too deep—only endless darkness visible, like a hollow eye, lifelessly staring at the sky.

She landed. “Old Feng,” since that drinking session, Yang Yi had begun calling Feng Liancheng “Old Feng,” like Wei Chang’an and the others, “notify the relevant personnel to closely monitor the sky above the abyss. I… I just feel something’s off…” Yang Yi frowned.

Colleagues instantly went on high alert, staring upward—but felt nothing.

“What exactly? I can’t see anything…” Wei Chang’an’s neck ached from craning upward.

“Besides the stronger dark matter fluctuations, I sense nothing either,” Chen Yushu added.

Yang Yi shook her head. “Just an intuition.”

Director Zhou took it seriously. “Even an intuition must be taken seriously—especially yours. It might hold something unusual…” He immediately instructed British experts to conduct inspections.

China’s rescue team and experts were still en route; regarding Britain’s incident, they came with a mindset of research and learning, aiming to prevent similar events at home.

Director Zhou began assigning tasks: “Wei Chang’an, Chen Yushu, Zhang Ningning, assist the arriving expert team in studying the abyss. Yang Yi, enter the hole for reconnaissance…” He glanced at the abyss-like black pit and repeated:

“Your safety comes first! Everything else is secondary—even ninety thousand lives! Perhaps this sounds politically incorrect, but lives do have weight. Even if it were a million, ten million…” Director Zhou stopped himself before saying too plainly, patted her shoulder: “If danger arises, return immediately!”

Feng Liancheng and the others showed no reaction—they regarded it as perfectly natural.

Yang Yi could only nod.

She approached the pitch-black, chillingly ominous hole, glanced down, and leapt in—plunging into endless depth.