"BREAKING NEWS: Southern District's abandoned high-rise confirmed as Crimson Mist Zone. Nine registered Awakened trapped inside—rescue operations underway..."
The television in Silas's Herbal Emporium blared the emergency broadcast, its grainy footage showing a skeletal building wreathed in unnatural fog.
"...investigators report the site was built atop an unmarked mass grave. Construction CEO Zhou illegally obtained permits, disturbing remains. Experts confirm this triggered the supernatural infestation..."
The shop erupted in chaos.
An elderly woman dropped her cane mid-purchase. "My son lives in Southern District's apartments!" She hobbled out, face ashen.
Nearby, a gaunt veteran—his right hand pockmarked with bullet scars—slammed his walnut prayer beads onto the counter. "Nine Awakened missing? In my day, we'd have shot that bastard Zhou at dawn!" Spittle flew as he spoke, his remaining fingers twitching toward an imaginary trigger.
"Building over restless dead? No wonder wraiths fester there like maggots!" a clerk hissed, abandoning her phone to join the outrage.
Ethan Cross observed silently, his grip tightening around his herb parcel. His apartment was barely half a mile from that death trap.
The Calculus of Risk
The broadcast replayed: "CEO Zhou sentenced to life imprisonment..."
Ethan's mind raced. The Bureau will flood Southern District with troops. Perfect cover to hunt straggler entities.
True, venturing near a Crimson Mist Zone meant flirting with death. But with Bureau forces as backup? A calculated risk.
"Fortune favors the bold."
His path crystallized:
1.Exploit the chaos to cull weaker entities.
2.Absorb their essence via his system.
3.Edge closer to Grandmaster Realm before the Bureau locked the area down.
Silas's voice interrupted his scheming. "Your order, Young Dragon." The old man presented a lacquered box. "Five-hundred-year snow lotus. Vermilion bat blood—harvested from vampire bats that fed solely on moonlit dendrobium flowers."
Ethan inspected the trove: ginseng roots coiled like sleeping serpents, cordyceps glowing faintly amber. All beyond his requested grade.
"Your generosity humbles me."
Silas waved him off. "For a disciple of Xingyi Quan? No charge." His wink said otherwise. The final bill: 980,000 yuan—a "discount" that could buy a luxury sedan.
The price of breaking human limits.
Southern District: War Zone
Ethan's taxi crawled through military checkpoints. Soldiers in black exosuits swept detector wands over vehicles, their visors reflecting the abandoned high-rise's silhouette.
"CIVILIAN EVACUATION IN PROGRESS. CURFEW STARTS AT 2100." drones overhead intoned.
Apartment listings plastered every wall—"FIRE SALE! 70% OFF!"—with no takers. The stench of panic hung thicker than the district's new fog.
Ethan shouldered his herbs, moving with a boxer's ease amid the scrambling crowd. Then—
A flicker of movement. Three shadows detached themselves from a noodle stall's steam,trailing him.
He pivoted into an alley, their footsteps quickening behind.