'It's the Iron Monks! They're cleaning up the battlefield and guiding the souls of the dead!'
A thought struck Wu Liangchen. He remembered the humble yet powerful Cyber Temple and the monk, Jie Nian, whose eyes held both compassion and conviction.
'Maybe... that could be an unexpected safe house?'
"Follow me." No longer hesitating, Wu Liangchen hoisted Jian Yi onto his back again, motioned to Alina, and headed in the direction of the chanting.
Before long, they had left the labyrinthine depths and returned to the more familiar underground pipe network of the West Ninth District.
Not far ahead, several Iron Monks in gray robes, their metal prosthetics exposed, were silently cleaning up the carnage left behind by the desperadoes' firefight. They chanted softly, guiding the souls of those who had died violent deaths.
Wu Liangchen led Alina and Jian Yi, moving silently around the monks to the back door of the Cyber Temple.
He knocked softly on the weathered iron door.
