Dusk draped over Mechanic City like a heavy black cloth, blurring its edges bit by bit. In the backyard of Rusty Iron Workshop, wind whirled up sand and dust, battering the wooden hut's door with a low, moaning sound—just enough to muffle the faint rustle of Lin Che packing his things.
He wrapped the yellowed ancient book and the metal plate tightly in a coarse cloth bag, then tucked a small pouch of copper coins that Su Qing had given him close to his chest. The coins were her savings from three months of work; she'd said they'd be enough to keep him going outside the city for a while. As for the part-repair manual Su Qing had lent him, he'd hesitated for a long time before leaving it under his pillow. Its pages were covered with her neat, delicate annotations—warm reminders of her kindness—and he feared losing it if danger found him on the road.
Tap-tap-tap.
Three soft knocks—their prearranged signal. Lin Che blew out the oil lamp at once, slung the cloth bag over his shoulder, and quietly slid the door bolt open.
Su Qing stood in the shadow outside, wrapped in a dark cloak, holding an oil-paper packet in her hand. "These are freshly baked wheat cakes—eat them on the way," she said, pressing the packet into Lin Che's palm. She then pulled a small brass key from her cloak pocket. "I made a copy of the back gate key. Go out through the back, run west along the city wall, and you'll find an abandoned drainage tunnel. It leads straight outside the city."
Lin Che's fingers tightened around the key, which still carried the faint warmth of Su Qing's palm. He wanted to say "thank you," but the words stuck in his throat—no phrase felt heavy enough to hold all the gratitude he felt.
Su Qing must have noticed his hesitation. She stepped forward, adjusting the strap of his cloth bag for him, her voice soft but firm: "Don't look back. Once you're outside the city, head for the Blackstone Forest first—it's easy to hide there. And remember, never let anyone see the birthmark on your wrist, not even by accident."
Lin Che nodded hard, his eyes burning. He knew he couldn't linger—every second they stayed together increased the risk of being discovered. With one last glance at Su Qing's silhouette in the dark, he turned and slipped toward the workshop's back gate.
The back gate was hidden between two stacks of old wooden crates, its iron lock rusted and dull. Lin Che inserted the brass key, his hands trembling slightly as he turned it. Click. The lock opened with a soft click that seemed to echo loudly in the quiet night. He pushed the gate open just enough to slip through, then pulled it shut gently behind him, leaving Rusty Iron Workshop—and the only warmth he'd known in years—behind.
The street outside was empty, lit only by the cold glow of the moon. Lin Che kept to the shadows, his boots light on the dusty ground as he ran west. The city wall loomed ahead, its gray stone surface cold and imposing. He found the drainage tunnel exactly where Su Qing had said it would be: a narrow opening hidden behind a thicket of withered thorns, just big enough for a person to crawl through.
He knelt down, about to climb into the tunnel, when a sharp voice cut through the night: "Stop right there!"
Lin Che's blood ran cold. He spun around to see three men in black uniforms standing at the end of the street—Zhao Kun's men. The one in the middle held a glowing arcane torch, its orange light illuminating their cold, determined faces.
"Found you, the little thief with the mark," the man sneered, waving the torch forward. "Stealing from the Zhao family's business and trying to run? You're dreaming."
Lin Che's mind raced. He knew he couldn't fight them—they were all at least Spirit Rank, far stronger than his weak Mortal Rank arcane energy. His only chance was to run into the drainage tunnel.
Without a second thought, he turned and dived into the tunnel. Thorns scraped at his arms and face, but he didn't stop, crawling forward as fast as he could. The tunnel was dark and damp, with the faint smell of rot in the air. Behind him, he heard the men's angry shouts and the sound of thorns being hacked apart.
"Chase him! Don't let him get away!"
Lin Che gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder. The tunnel sloped downward, and he could hear the distant gurgle of water. He fumbled in his pocket for the oil lamp Su Qing had given him—she'd said it might be useful in the dark—and lit it with a flint. The dim yellow light flickered ahead, showing him the way.
Suddenly, the ground shook slightly, and a chunk of earth fell from the tunnel ceiling, narrowly missing his head. One of the men had used arcane energy to attack the tunnel walls!
"Give up, kid!" the man shouted. "The tunnel will collapse soon—you'll be buried alive if you don't come out!"
Lin Che didn't reply. He could feel the tunnel shaking more violently now, bits of earth and stone raining down on him. He clutched the cloth bag to his chest—protecting the ancient book and metal plate was his only priority.
Just as he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, the tunnel opened up into a wider space. He looked ahead and saw a faint light—exit!
With a final burst of strength, he scrambled forward, ignoring the pain in his knees and elbows. The light grew brighter, and soon he was crawling out of the tunnel, into a small clearing outside the city.
He stood up, gasping for breath, and turned to see the tunnel collapse behind him with a loud rumble, burying the three men inside. For a moment, he froze—relief washing over him—but he knew he couldn't stay. Zhao Kun would send more men once he found out his first group was dead.
He adjusted his bag, took a bite of the wheat cake to regain his strength, and turned toward the Blackstone Forest in the distance. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground. As he ran, he felt the birthmark on his wrist grow slightly warm—almost as if it was guiding him forward.
Little did he know that the men he'd escaped from were just the beginning. Deep in the Blackstone Forest, a far greater danger waited—one that would force him to awaken the hidden power of the star marrow sooner than he ever imagined. And back in Rusty Iron Workshop, Su Qing stood in the backyard, staring at the collapsed drainage tunnel, praying silently that Lin Che would stay safe.
The night was far from over, and Lin Che's journey to uncover the secret of his birthmark had only just begun.