Volume 3 — The Era of Convergence
Chapter 3: The Door That Should Not Exist
The third toll of the bell was still echoing through the streets when Han Feng left the inn.
Three Stones Station had changed in a matter of moments.
Shopkeepers were hurriedly closing their doors. Market stalls had been abandoned, their owners rushing to gather whatever goods they could carry. Guards moved through the streets in organized groups, directing residents away from the northern district while others hurried toward the city walls.
Above the rooftops, the three towers projected beams of light into the sky.
The beams intersected, forming a vast network of inscriptions that spread across the settlement like an enormous celestial web.
The city's defensive formation was awakening.
Yet the sight offered little reassurance.
The luminous lines flickered at irregular intervals, their brightness fluctuating as though an invisible force were pressing against them from within. Every few seconds, a faint ripple traveled across the network, causing nearby spiritual lamps to dim.
Han Feng stopped beneath the eaves of a closed shop and observed the commotion.
"Everyone move to the inner streets!" a guard shouted. "By order of the Station Council, the northern district is off-limits! Anyone found beyond the checkpoints will be detained!"
A merchant attempted to ask what had happened, but a guard pushed him away.
Nearby, a woman hurried past with two children clinging to her clothes. An elderly man struggled to drag a wooden chest across the uneven street, nearly falling whenever the crowd pressed against him.
Three cultivators argued near an intersection.
"The containment formation is failing," one insisted. "If it collapses, the resulting energy discharge could destroy half the district."
"Don't be ridiculous," another replied. "The Council would never allow something that dangerous to happen inside the walls."
"Then why are they evacuating everyone?"
The third cultivator said nothing. He was staring at the towers, his face growing paler with every fluctuation of light.
Han Feng paid little attention to their speculation.
People always wanted an explanation before deciding what to do. Under ordinary circumstances, that was reasonable. In an unfamiliar crisis, however, waiting for complete information could mean surrendering the only advantage one possessed: time.
He examined the towers, the movement of the guards, and the direction in which the spiritual currents seemed to be flowing.
Then he began walking against the crowd.
He had no intention of confronting whatever was happening in the northern district. Not without understanding it first.
His objective was simpler.
He wanted to determine the nature of the disturbance before the entire settlement descended into panic.
If it was merely a malfunctioning formation, he might learn something useful about the instability affecting the two cultivation systems. If it was more dangerous, he would know which parts of the station to avoid.
And if the disturbance was connected to the stone tablet he carried, he needed to discover that connection before someone else did.
His hand briefly brushed the inner fold of his robe.
The tablet remained hidden.
That was reassuring, but it did not make him feel safe.
Since arriving at Three Stones Station, he had already encountered too many things that did not fit together. The ambush in the gorge, the strange reaction of the tablet, the inscription on its back, and now a containment formation behaving as though something were attempting to force its way through.
Perhaps these events were unrelated.
Han Feng refused to rule out that possibility.
But he would be foolish to ignore the pattern merely because he could not yet explain it.
He activated the Art of the Celestial Veil.
His aura gradually blended into the spiritual fluctuations of the surrounding streets. He did not attempt to disappear completely. Perfect concealment in a crowded settlement might attract more attention than an ordinary traveler.
Instead, he adjusted his presence to match the people around him: tired, anxious, and concerned primarily with their own survival.
The technique did not make him invisible.
It merely gave other people's eyes fewer reasons to linger on him.
That was often enough.
At the end of a narrow side street, two guards blocked a passage leading toward the northern district.
Behind them stood a translucent barrier.
Its surface trembled continuously, and tiny fragments of light peeled away from it before dissolving into the air. The barrier was supposed to seal the alley, but its unstable edges suggested that it was struggling to maintain its shape.
One guard held a registration tablet. The other kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"The area is restricted," the first guard announced before Han Feng could approach. "Return to your assigned lodging."
Han Feng glanced at the barrier.
"What happened?"
"None of your concern."
"If the containment formation is failing, evacuating the nearby buildings might be advisable."
The guard raised his eyes.
"Are you a formation expert?"
"No."
"Then stop giving advice about things you don't understand."
Han Feng offered no argument.
He simply observed the man's hand.
It was trembling slightly as he held the registration tablet. The guard was trying to conceal his fear behind a rigid posture, but the unstable barrier made it clear that the situation was not entirely under control.
Han Feng inclined his head as though accepting the order.
"Understood."
He turned and walked away.
Six steps later, he reached an intersection and turned right.
Beyond it lay an abandoned courtyard. One of the surrounding buildings had suffered structural damage, leaving a section of its rear wall partially collapsed.
Han Feng slipped through the opening.
On the other side was a narrow passage that had once connected the storage depots of the northern district to the main market.
Much of the ceiling had fallen in, but the remaining corridor was passable. Dust covered the floor, and the smell of damp stone lingered in the air.
Han Feng moved carefully, avoiding loose fragments that might betray his presence.
He understood the logic of such structures.
Settlements built around trade routes rarely relied on their main streets alone. They possessed secondary passages for transporting goods, maintenance tunnels for repairing infrastructure, and concealed routes intended to facilitate evacuation during sieges.
Three Stones Station was no exception.
After several minutes, the passage ended at a staircase descending beneath the buildings.
The air grew colder as Han Feng went down.
Ancient inscriptions covered portions of the walls, partially concealed beneath layers of mortar and dust. Some had been modified recently. Others remained untouched, their original lines preserved beneath centuries of accumulated grime.
Han Feng recognized several symbols used to stabilize energy circulation within containment formations.
Their arrangement, however, was unusual.
The lines did not merely circulate energy around an enclosed area.
They directed it inward.
Toward a central point.
As though the entire structure had been designed to keep something isolated.
Han Feng stopped before a cracked inscription.
He examined the characters without touching them.
The stone tablet from the gorge returned to his thoughts.
Vestige of Origin.
He still did not know what the phrase meant.
Nor could he be certain that the inscription on the tablet and the underground formation were related.
Their similarities were insufficient to justify a conclusion.
But they were sufficient to justify caution.
Han Feng continued downward.
The staircase opened into a subterranean corridor wide enough for two carts to pass side by side.
Black stone formed the floor, while spiritual lamps had been installed at regular intervals along the walls. Most were extinguished. The few that remained functional emitted a pale, sickly light.
Under their glow, Han Feng noticed drag marks and several dark stains.
He crouched beside one of them.
Blood.
It had dried, but not long enough ago for dust to have completely covered it.
The stains continued deeper into the corridor before disappearing beneath a thin layer of dirt. Beside them were several sets of bootprints, all pointing inward.
Someone had been taken down here.
Han Feng did not touch the blood.
He examined the surrounding floor, memorized the direction of the footprints, and resumed walking.
The deeper he went, the stronger the pressure became.
It was not a hostile presence, exactly. Nor did it resemble the oppressive aura of a powerful cultivator.
Instead, it felt like resistance.
As though the space itself had become more difficult to cross.
His steps seemed slightly delayed in relation to his movements. The sound of his boots reached his ears a fraction of a second after his feet struck the ground.
Han Feng stopped immediately.
He raised his right hand.
His shadow moved across the wall.
But not at the same instant.
For the briefest moment, the silhouette remained still.
Then it lifted its hand, reproducing his movement as though obeying an instruction that had arrived too late.
Han Feng felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
He lowered his hand.
The shadow followed.
He repeated the experiment, moving more slowly this time.
Again, the shadow lagged behind.
The difference was almost imperceptible, but it was unmistakable.
Han Feng stepped backward three paces.
The shadow returned to normal.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
He raised his hand once more, and the silhouette followed his movement without delay.
He frowned.
This was not an ordinary illusion.
The Art of the Celestial Veil remained unaffected, and his spiritual perception detected no concealed cultivator nearby. There was no obvious sign of a Gu manipulating his senses, nor any recognizable fluctuation of Qi that might explain the phenomenon.
It was as though the relationship between movement and its reflection had been altered.
Han Feng considered several possibilities.
An illusion formation could deceive the senses.
A spatial formation could distort distance.
A time-related technique might produce a delay, although he had never encountered a method capable of doing so without leaving a more obvious trace.
None of these explanations fit perfectly.
The Convergence had changed many things.
That did not mean every anomaly was a predictable consequence of it.
Han Feng retreated another step, studying the corridor.
For a moment, he considered leaving.
The sensible choice was to return to the surface and gather information from a safer position.
But he had already discovered blood, unexplained spatial resistance, and a formation designed to isolate something beneath the city.
Leaving without understanding at least part of the situation would mean abandoning potentially valuable information.
He decided to proceed, but with greater caution.
Every few meters, he checked the walls, the floor, and the surrounding spiritual currents. He did not attempt to absorb the unfamiliar energy or use his primordial essence to test the structure.
The unknown could be studied later.
Provided it did not kill him first.
Eventually, the corridor opened into a circular chamber.
Han Feng stopped at the entrance.
The room was far larger than the buildings above it should have allowed. Stone columns supported a vaulted ceiling, and concentric circles of inscriptions covered the floor.
At the center stood a door.
Not a conventional door made of wood, metal, or stone.
It was a perfectly smooth black surface fitted into an arch constructed from an unfamiliar material. It had no hinges, handle, lock, or visible seam.
Its surface reflected no light.
Instead, it seemed to swallow the outlines of anything that approached it.
The inscriptions surrounding the arch glowed at irregular intervals.
Han Feng's gaze settled on the symbol carved above it.
He recognized the mark immediately.
It was identical to the door symbol that had appeared in the containment formation above.
The same mark that should not have existed.
He remained several paces away and studied the structure.
The arch did not resemble anything built by the inhabitants of Three Stones Station. The oldest inscriptions had been carved directly into the surrounding stone, while newer markings had been added later, probably by cultivators attempting to understand or control the phenomenon.
Tool marks surrounded the base.
Small fragments of metal lay scattered across the floor, and three measuring instruments had been abandoned near a column. One still emitted a weak red light.
Someone had been studying this door.
Possibly for years.
Han Feng approached a side table covered in documents.
He did not touch anything immediately.
First, he examined the table's legs, the floor beneath it, and the surrounding walls. He found no obvious traps, although that did not guarantee the area was safe.
Only then did he begin reading.
The first document described the original discovery.
Two years after the Convergence, investigators had uncovered an anomaly beneath the settlement. Their initial conclusion was that it represented a residual fissure between the two worlds.
The structure displayed irregular energy fluctuations, but it did not permit the passage of matter or living beings.
The second document recorded an incident four years later.
The anomaly had stopped responding to the detection methods commonly used by Gu Masters.
At the same time, it had begun reacting to certain cultivation techniques that did not belong to the Gu World's system.
The researchers had consequently revised their hypothesis.
Perhaps the structure was not a conventional fissure at all.
Perhaps it was a spatial boundary that could not be described by any existing model.
The third document had been partially burned.
Han Feng carefully examined what remained.
Several lines were still legible.
There is no evidence that the other side belongs to the world of origin of the visitors.
Attempts to establish coordinates have failed.
The observed space does not correspond to any known region.
Immediate suspension of all experiments is recommended.
Someone had added a sentence beneath the final entry in a different hand.
The problem is not discovering where the door leads.
The problem is understanding why it has begun to respond.
Han Feng slowly placed the document back on the table.
The chamber seemed to grow quieter.
For ten years, scholars throughout the surviving territories had attempted to map the changes caused by the Convergence. Some fissures connected regions that had once belonged to different worlds. Others allowed only energy to pass through or produced temporary distortions.
Many disappeared within hours.
Others remained stable for months.
The door before him did not fit any of those descriptions.
There was no evidence that it connected the Gu World to a known region of the universe associated with Renegade Immortal. Nor was there proof that it led to any other recognized dimension.
The documents suggested precisely the opposite.
Their instruments could not determine its coordinates.
The researchers might have been mistaken.
The door might simply have been an extraordinarily complicated anomaly.
Or they might have encountered something for which neither cultivation system possessed an adequate language.
Han Feng considered the third possibility the most useful working hypothesis.
He did not consider it established fact.
That distinction mattered.
He needed more information before he could determine whether the door was connected to the Convergence, the tablet he carried, or something far older.
A noise came from the corridor.
Han Feng immediately extinguished the small spiritual lamp he had been carrying and retreated behind a column.
His movements were silent.
The Art of the Celestial Veil reduced his presence while he controlled his breathing and waited.
Two figures entered the chamber.
The first was a gray-robed man with white hair and a face marked by exhaustion. A storage ring gleamed on his right hand, and he carried a small metal case.
The second was a woman wearing a dark mantle.
Her aura possessed a quality different from that of the Gu Masters Han Feng had encountered. He could not accurately determine her cultivation, but her movements suggested a disciplined and stable foundation.
"The formation is losing stability," the man said. "If the fluctuations continue, we may not be able to maintain the seal for another night."
"You said the same thing three months ago," the woman replied.
"Three months ago, the structure still responded to our commands."
"And now?"
The man looked toward the black door.
"Now it is responding to something that doesn't exist in our records."
The woman remained silent.
He opened the metal case and removed a transparent crystal no larger than a fingernail.
A dark point rested at its center.
When the man brought it close to the inscriptions on the floor, the point began to expand.
The door responded.
A low vibration spread through the chamber.
The inscriptions flared, illuminating the columns with a pale light. The surrounding space appeared to contract.
For a fraction of a second, Han Feng had the impression that the corridor behind the two researchers had vanished.
In its place stretched an expanse of darkness without any visible end.
The woman stepped backward.
"Move the crystal away!"
The man tried to obey.
His fingers did not move.
The crystal had attached itself to his palm.
A black line spread across its surface and climbed over his fingers like ink spilling across paper.
The man's arm began to tremble.
He let out a strangled cry as unfamiliar symbols appeared beneath his skin.
Han Feng's gaze sharpened.
He recognized one of the symbols.
Not because he understood its meaning.
Because it was identical to the mark carved into the door's arch.
The woman rushed forward and seized the man's wrist.
A wave of energy swept through the chamber, surrounding his arm in a layer of bluish light. For a moment, the black lines stopped spreading.
"Release the crystal!" she ordered.
"I'm trying!"
The man's voice was distorted by pain.
The woman gritted her teeth, gathered more energy, and pulled with both hands.
The crystal finally tore free.
It struck the floor and shattered into three fragments.
The effect was immediate.
The inscriptions went dark.
The pressure vanished.
The man collapsed to his knees, clutching his injured arm. The black lines beneath his skin slowly retreated until they disappeared, leaving only several dark marks around his wrist.
The woman took a deep breath.
"This cannot continue."
"If we abandon the research, the Council will lose the only thing that might explain the changes caused by the Convergence."
"The Council isn't interested in explanations," she replied. "It's interested in controlling anything that can be turned into a resource."
The man raised his head.
"You think I don't know that?"
"Then stop behaving as though you can control something you don't even understand."
Silence followed.
Only the fragments of the shattered crystal moved, sliding slightly across the stone floor.
Han Feng remained hidden.
He had heard enough to understand that these two were not ordinary guards. They belonged to the team investigating the door, and their research had exceeded their ability to manage its consequences.
The woman distrusted the Council's intentions.
The man, despite his fear, remained determined to continue the experiments.
Han Feng did not judge either of them yet.
Ambition could produce extraordinary discoveries, but it could also make people confuse persistence with competence.
On the other hand, abandoning a dangerous investigation did not necessarily eliminate the danger. Sometimes it merely left the problem in the hands of someone less careful.
The woman helped her companion stand.
"We must reinforce the seal before dawn. If the door responds again, we may not be able to contain the reaction."
"And if the Council refuses to provide more resources?"
She looked at the black structure.
"Then we'll have to decide whether we're protecting the city or simply preserving an opportunity for those who intend to exploit it."
The two researchers began collecting their documents and instruments.
Han Feng took the opportunity to study the door one last time.
That was when he noticed something he had overlooked earlier.
The black surface was not entirely uniform.
At its center ran a vertical line so thin that it almost disappeared against the darkness.
It did not resemble a crack.
It was perfectly straight, extending from the top of the structure to its base.
During the brief flare of the inscriptions, Han Feng had seen the line shift slightly to the left.
Now it was motionless.
He did not know what the movement meant.
But the door no longer looked simply closed.
It looked as though it were waiting.
Han Feng left the chamber before the researchers had finished collecting their equipment.
He retraced his steps through the corridor, memorizing its turns and noting the places where cracks in the floor might betray someone moving too quickly.
He had no intention of returning to the surface through the same route if he could avoid it. Someone might have noticed the opening he had used to reach the underground complex.
When he reached the staircase, voices drifted down from above.
"The Council wants every record before midnight."
"The records aren't enough. We need someone capable of interpreting the oldest inscriptions."
"Then find that person."
"And if the door responds again?"
A pause followed.
"Then make sure nobody learns what happened."
Han Feng stopped for a moment.
That final statement revealed more than the speakers probably intended.
The Council was not merely trying to contain the anomaly.
It was trying to control the information surrounding it.
He continued up the stairs, passed through the abandoned building, and emerged into a side street.
The settlement remained on alert, but the bells had stopped ringing. Guards were informing residents that the situation was under control.
Few people appeared convinced.
Han Feng returned toward the inn, intending to collect his belongings and leave Three Stones Station before the next day.
He stopped before reaching the entrance.
Three men were waiting outside.
They wore ordinary clothes, but none carried merchandise or personal belongings that would explain their presence. One kept his right hand inside his sleeve. Another watched the windows on the second floor. The third was speaking with the innkeeper while showing him a small identification plaque.
Han Feng did not approach.
He stopped in the shadow of a neighboring building and observed.
The innkeeper appeared uneasy. After listening to the visitor, he pointed toward the interior and called for one of his assistants.
The man in ordinary clothes handed him something.
The object disappeared into the innkeeper's sleeve before Han Feng could identify it.
The three visitors entered.
Han Feng's expression remained unchanged.
They might have been sent by the Council.
They might belong to the research team.
Or they might be connected to the men who had attacked the caravan in the gorge.
He had no evidence to distinguish between those possibilities.
That was precisely why he would not approach them blindly.
He circled the building and reached the rear courtyard.
His room's window was closed, but he could see a shadow moving behind the curtain.
Someone was inside.
Han Feng did not attempt to enter.
Instead, he climbed onto the neighboring building, crossed the roof, and observed his window from a different angle.
One of the men was examining the table.
Another was opening the drawers.
The third stood near the door, listening for movement in the corridor.
Han Feng's belongings were hidden beneath a compartment under the bed. Yet he could not be certain the visitors had failed to find them.
They might already know about the tablet.
He remained on the roof until the men left the room.
They carried nothing visibly suspicious, but the man who had searched the table paused in the corridor and spoke to the innkeeper.
Han Feng could not hear the words.
He did not need to.
From that moment onward, the inn could no longer be considered safe.
He waited until the three men had disappeared down the street. Then he entered through the neighboring room's window and passed into his own through a narrow opening in the dividing wall.
The hidden compartment was still intact.
The tablet remained inside.
But the displaced dust around the bed revealed that someone had searched very close to it.
Han Feng carefully removed the tablet and examined its surface.
Nothing appeared to have changed.
He returned it to its wrapping, then transferred it into a smaller pouch concealed beneath his clothing.
This time, he would not leave it among his other belongings.
He packed only what he needed.
He was not interested in discovering who had sent the men that night.
Not yet.
First, he needed to understand the relationship between the tablet, the underground door, and the failure of the containment formation.
Only then could he begin investigating who was attempting to control the remnants of the Convergence.
Han Feng placed several coins on the table to cover the remaining cost of his lodging.
Then he extinguished the lamp and slipped out through the window.
Three Stones Station continued to function around him.
By morning, the markets would reopen. The guards would resume collecting fees, and merchants would attempt to recover the losses caused by the evacuation.
The Council would issue a statement declaring that the containment failure had been resolved.
Most residents would accept it.
Not necessarily because they believed it, but because they needed to believe that the walls surrounding their families still offered protection.
Han Feng understood that feeling.
Yet he had seen what existed beneath those walls.
A door that could not be assigned coordinates in either world.
A formation built to contain something its own researchers did not understand.
And a symbol that had appeared where an ancient inscription should have remained unchanged.
None of these discoveries offered him an immediate advantage.
They did not increase his primordial essence, strengthen his Gu, or bring him closer to the next stage of cultivation.
If anything, they threatened to force him away from a useful trade route and draw the attention of people with vastly greater resources.
He could have ignored the entire matter.
He could have left the station, continued his journey, and treated the incident as another dangerous curiosity in a world already full of them.
But after ten years of surviving the consequences of the Convergence, Han Feng had learned an important lesson.
The most dangerous anomalies were often the ones everyone preferred to declare resolved.
He would not investigate blindly.
He would not assume that the tablet had chosen him, that the door was connected to his inheritance, or that every faction searching for ancient objects shared the same goal.
But he would not forget what he had seen.
As he walked toward the outer district, a faint vibration passed through his consciousness.
Han Feng stopped.
The Celestial Diagram did not awaken fully.
It projected no images, revealed no words, and offered no explanation.
It simply responded.
One pulse.
So brief that he almost mistook it for the beat of his own heart.
Han Feng closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the sensation to fade.
He would not force another reaction.
Not tonight.
He resumed walking.
The city's walls gradually receded behind him, and the streets grew quieter as he approached the outer road.
He had arrived at Three Stones Station seeking information and a safe route through the Western Region.
Instead, he had discovered something that might force him to reconsider both.
He tightened the strap of his travel pack.
Whatever lay beyond that door, he would not approach it again without preparation.
Knowledge was valuable.
But knowledge obtained too early could become a death sentence.
Far beneath Three Stones Station, the black door remained closed.
The researchers had reinforced the seal, replaced the damaged instruments, and recorded the incident as a temporary instability.
The official report contained no mention of the black lines that had spread beneath the gray-robed man's skin.
Nor did it describe the darkness that had briefly replaced the corridor behind him.
Those details had been omitted deliberately.
After the last researcher left the chamber, the lights dimmed.
For several minutes, nothing happened.
Then one of the inscriptions on the arch began to glow.
It was not one of the lines directing energy through the containment formation.
It was a separate mark carved directly into the ancient material, so old that none of the researchers had included it in their records.
The light traveled slowly across its surface.
Then it disappeared.
On the black door, the vertical line shifted for the second time.
It remained slightly off-center for several breaths.
As though something on the other side had just changed position.
And somewhere beyond any region recognized by either world, an impossible distance seemed to shrink for the briefest instant.
The door did not open.
But it was no longer quite as far away from doing so.