Lin Xueyi did not slow down.
The corridor of the informant faction stretched long and narrow, metal walls reflecting cold white light that hummed faintly overhead. Her steps echoed sharply, each one deliberate, unsteady only in the way a blade trembles after striking something too hard. Behind her, footsteps followed—three of them—measured, cautious, unsure whether they were escorting her or chasing after her.
One of the men reached out.
"Lin—slow down. You're bleeding."
She shrugged him off without looking back.
The headache had not faded. If anything, it pulsed deeper now, a dull pressure behind her eyes that refused to let her forget what she had seen. The ashes. The flame. The broken reflections in a man's eyes just before death. Even now, when she closed her eyes for even a second, the memory tried to pull her back in.
She stopped suddenly.
The group almost collided into her back.
In front of them stood a metal door, taller than any other in the faction's underground complex. It was unmarked—no emblem, no code panel, no insignia. The surface was dull, scarred by time, its edges reinforced with thick black seals that drank in the light instead of reflecting it.
No sound came from the other side.
No warmth.
No presence.
Just silence.
Lin Xueyi raised her hand and knocked three times.
The sound rang heavy and final.
Nothing answered.
Seconds passed.
One of the men beside her shifted uneasily. He looked ordinary—short hair, plain uniform, tired eyes. The kind of face you forgot the moment you turned away.
"Is there… anything you need?" he asked carefully. "We can get a medic. Or—"
Lin Xueyi turned her head.
She looked at him.
Just him.
Her gaze sharpened, unreadable.
Without a word, she reached into her coat and pulled out the camera they had retrieved—the one from Gray's apartment. She held it up between them.
"We need your help with a case."
The man blinked.
For a fraction of a second, his pupils dilated unnaturally.
Then his head tilted to the side at an angle no human should hold.
The next instant, his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud.
The others jumped back in alarm.
"What the hell—!"
Before anyone could react further, the man's fingers twitched. His chest rose. Slowly, stiffly, he opened his eyes.
Confusion flooded his face.
"…What just happened?"
No one answered him.
Because the metal door behind Lin Xueyi made a soft clicking sound.
Locks disengaged—one after another.
The door opened inward.
They all looked down.
Standing there was a boy, a few inches shorter than they had expected.
He had white hair, uneven and messy, with faint streaks of yellow threading through it like dried sunlight. His eyes were a sharp, unnatural gold, unfocused yet piercing, as if they were not truly looking at the present.
He wore a loose black robe that hung awkwardly from his thin frame, sleeves slightly too long, collar unfastened. He looked young.
Too young.
He stared at Lin Xueyi for a moment, then spoke calmly.
"I'll be there in a few minutes."
No explanation.
No questions.
He stepped back and closed the door.
The locks clicked again.
Silence returned.
---
The main hall of the informant faction was alive with low voices and restrained movement when Lin Xueyi arrived. Analysts clustered around long tables. Symbols glowed faintly on glass panels. Information moved constantly, like blood through veins.
Lin Xueyi stood at one of the tables, the knife laid carefully before her.
She closed her eyes and reached out.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing answered.
No echo.
No soul.
Bai Qiren was gone.
She exhaled slowly and withdrew her hand, fingers trembling only slightly. She placed the knife down with care, as if it still held meaning even now.
A chair scraped softly beside her.
Someone sat down.
Lin Xueyi didn't look at first.
Then a voice spoke.
"…Who was that?"
She turned, surprised.
The woman beside her had short white hair and calm eyes that missed nothing. Her presence felt strangely hollow, as if the space she occupied did not fully register unless you focused on her directly.
This was Chen Yulan.
A new informant.
Her ability—invisibility, complete erasure of presence—had awakened only weeks ago. An inherited power, passed through the Cycle Theory after Kite's death. Where Kite once stood, something else had taken root.
Lin Xueyi studied her for a moment, then looked away.
"That," she said quietly, "was Xu Tianyan."
Chen Yulan's expression shifted.
"God Eye?"
Lin Xueyi nodded.
"The informant faction's God Eye."
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
"He is a follower of the real one—the God Eye of the God Order. The one who sees all. Knows all. Exists everywhere."
Chen Yulan frowned slightly. "The one people say doesn't exist?"
"The one people say doesn't exist," Lin Xueyi agreed, "because anyone who truly sees him is already dead."
She continued, voice steady.
"Xu Tianyan is the only person outside the God Order who has seen him and lived. Not by accident. By permission."
Chen Yulan went still.
"He has no power of his own," Lin Xueyi said. "What he uses is a blessing—a fragment of the real God Eye's authority. Borrowed sight. Borrowed possession. Borrowed knowledge."
She glanced briefly at the unconscious man being dragged away at the edge of the hall after using his powers for too long.
"The God Eye we use… has been asleep for a long time. Moving from body to body. Searching memories. Peering through past, present, and possible futures."
"And now?" Chen Yulan asked.
"Now," Lin Xueyi said, "he's awake."
Footsteps approached.
The atmosphere in the hall changed instantly.
Xu Tianyan walked in.
He no longer wore the robe.
Now he was dressed in his signature attire—a black dress shirt, fitted and neat. Black gloves covered his hands. Small silver crosses adorned his ears and chest, one pinned neatly over his heart. A thin choker circled his neck.
His white hair was combed back, yellow streaks faint under the lights.
His eyes were sharp.
Focused.
Ancient.
He stopped in front of Lin Xueyi.
"Let's begin," he said softly. "Shall we?"
Lin Xueyi lowered her gaze slightly.
"Yes," she replied.
"Captain Xu."
---
Far above Azure City, unseen by informants and gods alike, the night air shifted.
Something moved.
And somewhere, far away, a presence that had once turned men to ashes remained perfectly still—unaware that eyes had finally begun to trace his shadow.