Yang Yi worked fast. His knife flashed in the gloom, carving through gristle and bone. He tossed the beast cores to Lin. She caught them with trembling hands, wiping the gore on her already stained robes.
"Seven cores. Low grade. Maybe thirty points total."
"Enough to eat. Enough to rent the hut for another week."
Yang Yi stood up. The water around his ankles receded, sucked away by the unseen tide. The heavy, rhythmic thumping grew louder. It wasn't a heartbeat. It was footsteps.
Heavy, wet, dragging footsteps.
The smell arrived first. A wave of chemical rot—formaldehyde and burned hair—that overpowered the sewage stench.
"Hide."
Yang Yi grabbed Lin's arm. He dragged her into the shadows of a collapsed drainage pipe. They crouched in the muck, water soaking through their trousers.
A shape rounded the corner.
It wasn't an animal. It was a mound of pale, bloated flesh, roughly humanoid but massive, scraping the ceiling of the tunnel. It had three arms—two on the left, one massive, misshapen limb on the right. Its head was a featureless lump of scar tissue, save for a single, weeping vertical mouth sewn shut with copper wire.
"A Rejected," Lin whispered, her breath hitching. "A failed experiment from the Body Refinement Hall. They flush them down here when they don't die properly."
The creature stopped. It sniffed the air, the stitches on its mouth stretching. It smelled the fresh blood of the Needle-Rats. And the fresh blood of intruders.
It swung its massive right arm.
SMASH.
The brick wall exploded. Debris rained down into the water. The creature didn't care about the stone; it was clearing a path.
Yang Yi gripped the handle of his knife. "It's blind. It tracks by scent and sound."
"We're covered in rat blood."
"Exactly."
Yang Yi stood up. He stepped out of the shadows.
Lin hissed. She reached for him, but he was already gone.
He picked up a dead Needle-Rat by the tail. He swung it like a pendulum.
"Hey, ugly."
The Rejected snapped its head toward the sound. It let out a gurgling roar, straining the copper wire. It charged.
The speed was terrifying for something so large. It moved like an avalanche of meat.
Yang Yi didn't run away. He ran toward the grate in the floor—the one overlooking the pulsing red vein.
He timed it. The creature was ten feet away. Five.
Yang Yi threw the rat corpse at the monster's face.
The creature instinctively swatted it aside.
Yang Yi slid. He dropped to his knees, sliding on the slick moss, passing right between the creature's legs.
He stopped at the grate. He jammed his knife into the rusted lock mechanism.
"Open."
He kicked the hilt. The lock shattered.
He rolled aside just as the Rejected spun around.
The monster stomped. It brought its massive foot down, aiming to crush the insect that had slipped past it.
It missed Yang Yi. It hit the grate.
The rusted iron groaned. The combined weight of the monster and the force of the stomp was too much. The bars snapped.
The Rejected's leg plunged through the floor.
Down into the red light.
A hiss erupted. The sound of liquid essence vaporizing flesh.
The creature screamed. The copper wires on its mouth snapped, unleashing a howl that shook dust from the ceiling.
The red vein below wasn't just energy; it was raw, unrefined Yang fire. Concentrated toxicity.
Smoke billowed up—black and acrid. The creature thrashed, trying to pull its leg free, but the flesh was melting, fusing to the broken iron.
Yang Yi shielded his eyes from the blinding crimson glare. He felt the Dragon Token heat up, drinking in the chaotic energy releasing from the pit.
"Now!"
He grabbed Lin. They sprinted past the thrashing behemoth.
The tunnel ahead shook as the creature slammed its good arms against the walls, bringing down chunks of masonry. The ceiling began to crack.
"The tunnel is collapsing!" Lin coughed, shielding her head.
"Keep running!"
They scrambled over a pile of rubble. Behind them, a massive section of the roof gave way, burying the screaming Rejected and sealing the path back to the entrance.
Dust engulfed them.
They didn't stop until the sounds of destruction faded to a dull rumble.
They collapsed in a dry section of the sewer, coughing up grit.
Lin leaned against the wall, sliding down until she hit the floor. She looked at Yang Yi. He was covered in gray dust and black slime, his eyes reflecting the lingering fear of the collapse.
"You're insane."
Yang Yi checked his knife. The tip was chipped. "We're alive."
"We're trapped. The exit is buried."
Yang Yi looked around. They were in an older section of the sewer. The brickwork here was different—darker, carved with symbols that had long since worn away. The air was still, dead.
"There's always another way up. The sect is built on layers of old ruins."
He walked to the wall. He brushed away a layer of moss.
A door. Not iron, but stone. Sealed tight.
No handle. Only a circular indentation in the center.
Yang Yi looked at the indentation. Then he looked at the beast cores in his pouch.
He pulled out the largest core—a thumb-sized crystal from the alpha rat. It fit the size of the hole perfectly.
"A service entrance," he muttered. "For the cleaners who don't want to use the main shaft."
He pressed the core into the slot.
The stone absorbed the faint yellow light of the core. The mechanism clicked. Gears ground together, protesting centuries of disuse.
The door slid open.
A spiral staircase waited inside, winding upward into darkness.
Yang Yi retrieved the drained, gray husk of the core.
"Up we go."
Lin stared at the stairs. "Where does it lead?"
"Hopefully not the kitchen."
Yang Yi stepped onto the first stair. The air pouring down was cool. It smelled of old paper and ink.
"I think we just found a shortcut."