Part I: Mo Yan - The Puzzle
Gu Chen said something to me the day he went down the mountain.
"Dark red. I saw it once. Thirty-one years ago, in the Qilian Mountains."
He leaned on his bamboo staff and left. The taxi taillights flickered twice in the twilight of the old east city street, then disappeared around the corner. Old Master Qi packed up his folding table—the three copper coins had stopped burning—but he glanced in my direction three times before leaving.
I stood there for half a minute.
Qilian Mountains. Thirty-one years ago.
I've lived for hundreds of years, and I'd never heard that name before. When the Boss dug out my heart from my chest, he showed me a glimpse of his prison—chains, hellfire, the soles of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva's feet.
But he never told me what place that was, or how deep the seal went. Gu Chen had let something slip. An old Taoist who'd dealt with the Underworld's judges, speaking a forbidden name to a nightmare demon wrapped in a soul membrane.
A heartbeat skipped. Not mine—Zhao Yuanhang's. That remnant soul of his twitches every time it hears something related to death.
"Quit it," I muttered.
The chest went quiet. For now.
I returned to Zhao Yuanhang's apartment. Thirteenth floor of an old tower building. The security door still had glue residue from the police seal. When I pushed the door open, the air smelled damp. The wild cats' nest on the AC unit had been cleared by property management, leaving only an empty cardboard box.
At the computer. Zhao Yuanhang's keyboard—the W key was half-worn bare. No system window popped up. Tonight wasn't the monthly payment countdown. Last settlement was 3.9/4, barely meeting the quota. The Boss hadn't pressed.
I put my feet up on the computer case.
"Chen Sanqi, help me look up a place. Qilian Mountains."
Static crackled in the Bluetooth earpiece. "Scope."
"Everything. Geology, earthquakes, missing persons, military files. Especially anything related to supernatural events."
"Qilian Mountains?"
"Gu Chen mentioned it. Thirty-one years ago, he saw a dark red light there. Same as what Old Master Qi's copper coins sensed today."
Silence for a few seconds. When Chen Sanqi goes quiet, he's allocating computing power.
"The Gui Ju database has an entry for Qilian Mountains. Very high classification."
"Can you crack it?"
"Chu Li sealed all government ports after the Anxiang Life incident. The process I left behind was traced by her. 32767. She gave it a name. Now there's a whole layer of Gui Ju's firewall dedicated to hunting that process ID."
I stared at the power light on the case. "You're scared of being traced."
"I'm just telling you the risk."
Zhao Yuanhang's chest twitched again. "I need this information."
Chen Sanqi said nothing more. The signal cut out.
I waited until three in the morning. The system window popped up—black background, white text: "Monthly payment countdown: thirty-one days. Quota: four souls. Note: Last settlement was critically low, no reduction granted this time."
Four souls. Last month's 3.9 almost cracked the soul membrane. Sun Guoping and Zhang Xiulan's reserves were already depleted. I minimized the window.
At 4:17 a.m., the Bluetooth earpiece exploded with static.
"Got it," Chen Sanqi's voice was faster than usual—he was using fragmented transmission. "Cache logs from the server buffer. Original files locked with Deputy Director clearance. Only managed to scrape the title lines and remark fields."
"Read."
"Thirty-one years ago. Abnormal seismic waves in Qilian Mountains area. Follow-up remark: 'Qingwei Temple Gu Chen. Disaster assessment: non-combat casualties.'"
"Three years ago. Qilian Mountains-0317. Special reconnaissance team of seven, one survivor. Remark: 'Lu Ming. Left eye mutated.'"
My hand froze above the keyboard.
Three years ago, Lu Ming was in the Qilian Mountains. Seven went down, six died. Only he came back, his left eye turned pale gray. The first time we met in the parking lot, that eye locked onto my demonic qi. He chased me for three months. I always thought he was on a mission. Turns out he wasn't.
He was hunting the thing that killed his entire team.
"Two more related entries," Chen Sanqi continued. "Both time points share the same keyword 'Black Crystal.' Remark: seal repair material. Appeared both thirty-one years ago and three years ago."
"And an automatically generated system index: 'Follow-up event: Abnormal electromagnetic interference in east city. Started three months ago. Ongoing. Recommend continued monitoring.'"
Black Crystal. Electromagnetic interference.
"Where exactly is that construction site in the east city?"
"Northeast direction. Foundation pit depth: twelve meters. Piling stopped halfway three months ago. The construction team cited quicksand."
Three months. Same timeline as when I had Chen Sanqi plant voltage anomaly signals in the smart meters around the construction site. That time I'd only wanted to interfere with Lu Ming's thermal imaging accuracy. The signals were weak—even the power company didn't notice.
But Lu Ming's satellite calibration algorithm was hyper-sensitive to electromagnetic interference. Those signals had been automatically archived by his system as "abnormal logs."
"Safe withdrawal."
No response. A brief electrical screech in the earpiece. Then I heard Chu Li's voice, plus a mirrored audio feedback: "Seal proxy port three. Search port five. Not IP—telecom metropolitan area network base station frequency hopping."
Keyboard clicks like rain on a tin roof.
Chen Sanqi fragmented his process and poured it out through different base stations simultaneously. Chu Li locked nearly half the exits. Before disconnecting, he shoved through a string: "Her algorithm's faster. Just missed it. Need to switch entry points next time."
The laptop's bottom-right corner popped up a network diagnostic: "32767 has withdrawn. Data loss: 12.3%."
Outside, the sky wasn't bright yet. The case fan still hummed. I sat in Zhao Yuanhang's chair and ran through the names of his twenty-seven former colleagues in my mind—I'd memorized them when I went back to work for him last time. Then I started thinking about the Qilian Mountains.
Thirty-one years ago, abnormal earthquakes. Gu Chen was there. Non-combat casualties. Three years ago, same mountain, six of Lu Ming's men died inside. Black Crystal appeared in both events. Now electromagnetic interference in the east city had been ongoing for three months—coinciding exactly with when the Boss started collecting energy at the construction site.
There was one crucial piece missing. Both records from thirty-one years ago and three years ago noted earthquake anomalies and casualty results, but no causes. Like a medical record that only lists symptoms without a diagnosis.
I didn't know what that thing was. It wasn't in the files. I needed to find Gu Chen.
That night I lay awake in the dark. The fiber optic fill lights outside flickered on a regular cycle. The RF reader on the doorframe refreshed every fifteen seconds. The acoustic collector in the toilet tank was in passive mode. The thermocouple in the lamp socket was still in place.
Lu Ming's surveillance net wouldn't slacken because of anything that happened today. He was just waiting for the crack and my connection to be fully exposed.
A faint ache deep in Zhao Yuanhang's chest. Zhao Yuanhang's residue on the soul membrane twitched again. It had been twitching more frequently lately—every time I thought about death-related things, it moved. Like a dying remote control that only responds to a specific frequency.
The crack in the ceiling was longer than last month. This tower building's subsidence rate was faster than the homeowners' association meetings.
Fog rolled over the southern slope of Cuiping Mountain around seven in the morning. The gravel path was covered in dew—by the time I reached the halfway point, my pants legs were soaked halfway up. A half-broken stone stele carved with "Qingwei" stood beside the path, and the narrow trail behind it was just wide enough to squeeze through sideways.
The meditation room was at the deepest part of the temple. A cushion, an empty wall, a bronze incense burner. The ash in the burner was black—hadn't been changed in a long time. When I stood in front of the cushion, I could smell a faint burnt odor.
Gu Chen entered leaning on his bamboo staff. "Ten days until the monitoring date."
"Last night the soul membrane was abnormal. The heart core's traction broke for half a second."
He sat on the cushion. The bamboo staff lay across his knees, three cinnabar talismans on it—the bottom one had the deepest burn marks, the top one was new. He stared at me for a moment. I kept my face expressionless. Zhao Yuanhang's body was thirty-five years old, had been yelled at by product managers hundreds of times—keeping a poker face was basic training.
"Close your eyes."
I closed them. The staff's tip touched my forehead, and a cool talisman power seeped into the soul membrane's surface. Zhao Yuanhang's remnant soul began to vibrate violently. It was afraid of this—maybe the fear came from the moment Zhao Yuanhang's soul was crushed after death. Gu Chen pressed harder, pushing the talisman power deeper.
Just as his consciousness began to sink, I spoke softly.
"Qilian Mountains."
His eyelid twitched. The pressure of the staff tip on my forehead shifted slightly.
"I dreamed of a place. A huge mountain. A hole underground. The hole was full of black stones."
Gu Chen opened his eyes, alertness in them: "What else did you see in the dream?"
"Nothing. Every time I get near that direction, my chest hurts."
Gu Chen was silent for a long time—long enough for me to count every wrinkle on his face. His browbones jutted out, eye sockets deep. This bone structure helped stabilize the wrist when drawing talismans.
Then he said something he shouldn't have said.
"There's a seal down there. I was there when it was repaired last time. What you dreamed might be residual spiritual energy radiation from the seal—without a heart in your chest, you're more sensitive to seal fluctuations than ordinary people."
Seal.
I held that word at the back of my throat. Gu Chen had just given me two key pieces of information. First, there was something sealed under the Qilian Mountains, and he'd participated in its repair. Second, when he said "I was there when it was repaired last time," it meant this seal had been broken more than once. That matched the two timelines in Gui Ju's files.
"Will this seal break again?"
Gu Chen pulled the staff back. As the tip left my forehead, the talisman's coolness dragged from my brow to my nose bridge. His mouth tightened.
"What happens if it breaks?"
"Spiritual energy leakage." He only said those four words, then fell silent.
I didn't press. Only the smell of burnt ash from the bronze incense burner filled the meditation room. Gu Chen's bamboo staff lay across his knees—the bottom talisman was charred and curled at the edges, the middle one also had burn marks, the top one was still fresh with clean, sharp brushstrokes.
"Thirty-one years," I pointed to the bottom talisman. "This one's at least thirty years older than the middle one."
Gu Chen's eyes were downcast, not responding. But his thumb shifted half an inch on the staff—from the blank space without talismans, to the position between the old and new ones.
"The middle one," I continued, "the fire burned backward from the end. The person drawing the talisman had an unsteady hand, or—" I paused, "halfway through drawing, something happened outside, and they rushed out."
The staff vibrated slightly on his knees. Barely perceptible, but my soul membrane could feel it—Zhao Yuanhang's body's auditory nerves were abnormally sensitive to low-frequency vibrations.
"Three years ago. Qilian Mountains." I threw out the words, staring at his brow. Gu Chen's browbones jutted out, eye sockets deep—this bone structure caused the brow to furrow involuntarily when lying. "Gui Ju's files have a remark: 'Qingwei Temple Gu Chen. Disaster assessment: non-combat casualties.'"
His breath stopped for a moment.
"You were there too." I watched his fingers gripping the staff—knuckles white, three times harder than before. "Seven went down, six died. The files say 'non-combat casualties,' but Lu Ming's left eye turned pale gray. He's still hunting that thing."
Gu Chen's lips pressed into a line, corners turned down—a suppressed expression, not denial.
"Those six," I leaned forward half an inch, "were sealed by Black Crystal. Same as thirty-one years ago."
"How did you..." He said three words, then stopped abruptly. Realizing he'd let something slip.
"Black Crystal was there thirty-one years ago too," I finished for him. "Abnormal earthquakes in Qilian Mountains. You went to repair it. Used a complete seal." I pointed to the charred bottom talisman. "This one burned like this because all the seal's pressure transferred onto it.
No pressure release after complete sealing. Pressure accumulated. So it broke again in the same place three years later."
Gu Chen's shoulders tensed. The Three Pure Ones pattern on his robe bulged at the shoulder blades—he was straining.
"You were there three years ago too," I pushed on, "but you didn't repair it. Or—" I looked at the middle talisman, half-burned, "you drew the talisman but didn't finish it. Lu Ming's men died inside. You couldn't complete the seal. No pressure transfer. So the seal only held for three years."
"Enough." His voice was low, but all three talismans on the staff lit up briefly—the bottom one brightest, like embers stirred by wind.
I didn't stop. "Now the same temperature exists under the east city construction site. 36.5 degrees Celsius. Same as recorded in the Qilian Mountains files. You came here to monitor me because you know the crack is about to open."
Gu Chen stood up. The staff struck the ground in front of the cushion with a dull thud. "Monitoring complete. You may leave."
I didn't move. "Last time you repaired the Qilian Mountains seal," I looked him in the eyes, "how many people did you lose?"
He froze. The Three Pure Ones pattern on his shoulders tensed under the robe, then relaxed for a moment.
"Those six," I said, "the files say non-combat casualties. But you were there. You watched Black Crystal seal them inside. Couldn't complete the seal, couldn't release the pressure."
Gu Chen tightened his grip on the staff. The bottom talisman flared briefly, the faint light burning from start to finish like someone striking a match in a memory.
"Go."
I stood up. Stopped at the door. "If you repair it again this time... won't you complete the seal?"
He didn't answer. But his hand released the staff for a moment. A man who'd drawn talismans for thirty-one years—let go for a moment. That was enough.
On my way down the mountain, I sent Chen Sanqi a message.
"Gu Chen used complete sealing last time. He almost slipped up. If he does it again, the pressure transfer will make the next crack come faster."
Chen Sanqi was silent for a moment. "Now you know the seal will break again. What about time and location?"
"Ask the Night Patrol God."
Ambushing the Night Patrol God sounded crazy.
But I'd sat in the east city branch office for seven months, memorizing every gap in his patrol schedule. Every Friday from 2:53 a.m. to 3:10 a.m., there was a seventeen-minute window around the east city branch. He was a low-ranking Underworld official who only executed orders, but his Yin soldiers' rotation records would expose the direction of those orders.
I didn't wait in the window—I stood at the intersection ten minutes early.
The sycamore leaves rustled.
When the Yin wind pressed down from behind, the leaves stopped entirely. Mist began forming at the edges of the streetlamp's glow—that was Yin energy. Where the Night Patrol God passed, lights dimmed, temperature dropped, humidity rose.
The soul-binding chain dragged past less than two meters behind me. The iron chain scraped across the concrete, leaving a water stain. The stain was narrower than last time—the charred branches on the chain hadn't fully grown back.
The Night Patrol God stopped behind me.
"Did the Judge specify a deadline on your temporary reprieve?"
The soul-binding chain didn't move.
"I've seen your Yin soldiers' rotation records in the east city over the past three months. Each shift has two more than the previous."
The chain moved again. Another short water stain. The phosphorous fire at the tip had been pointing north, now shifted slightly northeast.
The Night Patrol God didn't speak. But the chain spun in his hand, the phosphorous fire tracing an arc before stopping at the northeast direction. The sound of the chain dragging changed—from "shush" to "clack," as if the links were hitting something.
"Within a month," I said. The phosphorous fire dimmed by half after those four words—the standard response when Yin soldiers receive orders.
The chain moved again. The tip sank downward, the phosphorous fire almost touching the ground. The water stain seeped into the concrete, forming an irregular circle with a depression in the center.
The Night Patrol God never spoke. But the chain's direction, the phosphorous fire's brightness, the shape of the water stain—put together, these three things gave me enough to read the answer.
Yin wind swirled. Sycamore leaves fell. When I turned back, he was gone. The iron-gray afterimages of twelve Yin soldiers lingered on the road, like water stains drying up.
I stood there waiting for my heart rate to slow. Zhao Yuanhang's heart was racing—the membrane in his chest had a muscular-level fear of the Yin energy near the soul-binding chain.
But if the heart rate was too fast, the RF reader monitoring me would trigger an anomaly. Lu Ming was watching from the other end of the screen. Zhao Yuanhang's body took three deep breaths of night air, and the heart rate gradually dropped.
Northeast direction. Underground. Within a month.
Chen Sanqi pulled up the approval blueprints for all large underground projects in the northeast direction. Seven had foundation pits deeper than ten meters. Six were under construction. One had stopped. Piling had stopped halfway three months ago—the developer cited quicksand.
Three months. Coinciding with the electromagnetic interference anomaly in Gui Ju's files. Coinciding with when the Boss started collecting energy at the construction site.
I sat at the computer. The system window was still open in the bottom-right corner. I pulled up the energy transfer records, sorted by month. After each monthly settlement, a new data set appeared at the bottom of the log: heat source fluctuation amplitude.
Month three: 0.12. Month four: 0.27. Month five: 0.58. Month six: 1.13. Month seven: 2.41. Month eight: 5.03.
Each month was roughly double the previous. At this rate, this month's fluctuation would jump to over ten.
The crack would open on its own. The Boss was pushing too fast.
I closed the window. Walked to the window. The thirteenth-floor window wasn't closed tightly—wind squeezed in, howling.
Three lines converged.
Thirty-one years ago, the Qilian Mountains seal broke. Gu Chen repaired it with complete sealing. Three years ago, the same seal broke again. Six of Lu Ming's companions were sealed by Black Crystal. Now the energy curve pointed to the east city construction site. The next crack would come within a month. The Underworld hadn't opened it— the Boss had eaten too much and pushed it out.
But what could I do? I was too weak. My heart was clenched underground. The soul membrane was locked with the Night Patrol God's phosphorous fire marker. Lu Ming was everywhere within two kilometers.
All I could do was get the right people in place.
I didn't need to act myself. Just make sure everyone appeared at the right place at the right time.
I sent Chen Sanqi a message.
"Three pieces. Deploy simultaneously."
"Read."
"First: Lu Ming's system already has three months of voltage anomaly signals. His thermal imaging calibration algorithm is hyper-sensitive to electromagnetic interference. When the crack opens, he'll dig up these logs and find the interference source coincides with the crack location. He'll think the system discovered the precursor on its own. No need to notify him—he'll show up."
"Second: Push a fake K-line pulse signal to Gui Ju's abnormal transaction monitoring system the day before the crack triggers. Zero amount. Same modus operandi as Anxiang Life. Chu Li will chase the clue toward the northeast. When she finds the signal source points to the abandoned construction site, she'll call Lu Ming to take a look. Lu Ming trusts data."
"Third: Old Master Qi uploads his divination plate data to Qingwei Temple's earth vein system before packing up. Add six characters to the end of the data packet: 'Li Huo Dong, Kun Di Lie.'"
"Gu Chen won't immediately believe it, but when the crack actually comes, he'll remember someone warned in advance. Someone with doubts won't seal the crack completely when repairing it."
Silence on the other end of the earpiece. Chen Sanqi asked something he wouldn't normally ask.
"What if Gu Chen still uses complete sealing?"
"Then the next crack will come even sooner. He won't have time to prepare."
Chen Sanqi didn't ask more.
Seven days later. 2 p.m. At my desk at Yuanhang Intelligence. The turtle-backed bamboo plant on the case hadn't been watered in three months. Operations Lao Zhang passed by and said my plant was outliving my hair. I said it was plastic. Lao Zhang stared down for five seconds and said nothing more.
2:40 p.m. The product manager across the way stood up to push for progress. The instant coffee grounds at the bottom of his cup sparkled. I stared at those grounds for a moment.
2:55 p.m. The system window flashed—automatic background log save. Two of Chen Sanqi's three pieces had received feedback: the fake signal had been locked by Chu Li, direction northeast. Gu Chen had received the earth vein push, no reply.
And the electromagnetic interference logs were still sitting in Lu Ming's system. He should be digging through those three-month-old anomaly records right now.
3:07 p.m. My chest tightened violently.
The system window popped up without being triggered. No monthly payment countdown, no reminder. Only one line: "Seal damaged. Location: Northeast 4.2 km. Level three crack. Do not approach."
The tester across the way asked why my face had gone white. I said low blood sugar. He said I didn't look like low blood sugar—I looked like my heart had skipped a beat.
Actually, it had skipped more than one. The heart core's traction had weakened for nearly half a second. The Boss was starting to focus entirely on the seal. He'd pushed the crack out himself, and even he probably hadn't expected it to burst this time.
I walked to the window. The thirteenth-floor window wasn't closed tightly—wind squeezed in, howling. The skyline to the northeast was darker than elsewhere. Something was swallowing the light.
Chen Sanqi's Bluetooth signal flickered. "Lu Ming's moving. He's digging through the three-month-old logs. The interference source coordinates and crack location are a perfect match."
"Does he know?"
"He wrote two lines on paper. First line: Electromagnetic interference. Second line: This didn't start today." Chen Sanqi paused. "I read it through the cached data from his office's networked printer."
"How long until the crack?"
"The energy curve is spiking. Linear growth has become pulsed. The interval between pulses is shortening." Chen Sanqi paused. "At this frequency... tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Within three hours."
I stared at that darkening skyline outside. Three months ago, when I had Chen Sanqi plant signals in the smart meters around the construction site, I'd only wanted to interfere with Lu Ming's thermal imaging accuracy.
Now those signals had become the "precursors" he discovered himself. He would go. Chu Li would follow him. Gu Chen would head northeast after confirming the crack on the earth vein system.
But the crack was earlier than everyone expected.
"Evacuation plan."
"Gui Ju has standard procedures. Clear all personnel within 500 meters radius. But—" Chen Sanqi's voice hesitated, a rare occurrence, "if it's truly a level three crack, the evacuation radius isn't enough."
"That's Gui Ju's problem," I said. "All I need is for people to be there."
Silence for a few seconds. Then Chen Sanqi said, "You're not going?"
"I am."
"But your soul membrane—"
"Precisely because the soul membrane is there, I must go." I cut him off. "When the crack opens, the traction will fluctuate. If I'm there, I can sense his state."
Chen Sanqi didn't argue further. He only provided data, never made decisions for me.
"Twenty minutes. Construction site northeast. I'll delay Old Master Qi's divination plate upload by ten minutes. Ensure Gu Chen arrives five minutes after the crack opens. For those five minutes... you'll have to hold on alone."
"I won't hold on," I said. "I'll watch."
Part II: Old Master Qi - The Warning
Old Master Qi had set up his stall at the east city old street corner for twenty-three years.
A folding table, a folding fan, three rusty copper coins. The coins were artifacts issued by Qingwei Temple, designed specifically to sense "things that don't belong in this world." In twenty-three years, the coins had only jumped three times: a possessed ghost, a murderer, and Mo Yan.
Today was the fourth time.
But the coins didn't jump. They flew.
The three copper coins shot straight up from the folding table into the air, arranging themselves into a perfect triangle while emitting a sharp humming sound. In twenty-three years at this street corner, Old Master Qi had never heard the coins make a sound.
The divination plate showed: dark red spiritual energy residue was seeping upward from underground. One person's residue, an entire area's. Direction: northeast. Distance: approximately four kilometers.
He dialed Gu Chen's phone.
Gu Chen was silent for a moment on the other end, then said, "People. Crack. Smaller than the Qilian Mountains one, but in the city."
Old Master Qi gripped the phone, knuckles white. Twenty-three years. He'd sat at this folding table for twenty-three years. Reported seventeen anomalies. Seen thirty-one souls taken away by the Underworld. Never once heard the coins make a sound.
"Report it?"
"Don't." Gu Chen said. "The Underworld already knows. Head northeast. Find a high point outside the construction site. Full scan with the divination plate. Send data to me in real time."
"Teacher, that sound—"
"The coins are warning." Gu Chen's voice was like rusted iron. "I heard it once in Qilian Mountains, twenty-three years ago. Six people died in that crack. This time it's in the city. If we don't handle it right... more than six will die."
The phone went dead.
Old Master Qi stuffed the folding table into his canvas bag. The three copper coins were still burning in his palm. The dark red spiritual energy residue on the divination plate looked like a thin mist, clinging to the coins' surfaces. He tucked the coins into his sleeve, hopped on his rusty-chain shared bike, and pedaled toward the northeast.
Part III: Lu Ming - Guided
Gui Ju, nineteenth floor. Three screens blared alarms simultaneously.
Left: Abnormalities appeared in surveillance footage from three major east city intersections—roughly one in ten pedestrians suddenly rubbed their temples, shivered, or looked around nervously.
Middle: Bank transaction data showed a small wave of high-frequency trading. Seemingly normal market fluctuations, but Chu Li's program flagged several "ghost transactions" mixed in: funds transferred to non-existent virtual accounts, transaction prices deviating from market prices by over ten percentage points.
Right: Satellite thermal imaging showed underground heat source fluctuations accelerating from once every forty seconds to once every nineteen seconds. The shape changed from a blurry "mouth" to something clearer—like a mouth exhaling.
Lu Ming stared at the right screen for five seconds.
Then he grabbed the walkie-talkie.
"Chu Li. Pull up the three-month-old electromagnetic interference logs."
"Already pulling." Chu Li's voice came through the earpiece, keyboard clicks in the background. "East city, northeast direction. Started three months ago, ongoing. You marked it before."
"I know I marked it." Lu Ming said. His left hand swiped on the tablet, overlaying today's alarm locations with the three-month-old electromagnetic interference source coordinates.
Perfect overlap.
Error margin: less than fifteen meters.
He wrote two lines on paper.
First line: Electromagnetic interference, three months ago.
Second line: This didn't start today.
Chu Li's voice came again: "One more thing. The abnormal transaction monitoring system intercepted a zero-amount test transaction ten minutes ago. Same modus operandi as Anxiang Life. Signal source: east city new district."
Lu Ming's left hand froze.
Two independent clues. Electromagnetic interference logs. Abnormal transaction signal. Both pointing the same direction. Both occurring before the crack appeared.
He added a third line: Someone was setting things up before the crack appeared.
"Chu Li." He said. "Trace that transaction's IP. I need to know who sent the signal."
"Already tracing. But the erasure technique is professional. The log chain is broken at three points."
"Can you recover it?"
"Not sure."
Lu Ming folded the paper and tucked it into his chest pocket. He stood up, grabbed the orange reflective vest from the back of his chair.
"I'm going to the site."
"What's the cover?"
"Gas leak." Lu Ming said. "Secondary pipeline rupture. Evacuate all residents within two kilometers."
"Gui Ju doesn't have authorization—"
"Fake it." Lu Ming cut her off. "You have two hours to forge three hundred pages of reports. Municipal database, gas company, fire department—all connected. I need to clear everyone around before the crack expands."
Chu Li was silent for two seconds on the earpiece. Then the keyboard clicks intensified.
"Copy." She said. "Three hundred pages. Uploading within two hours."
He arranged four Iveco vans mixed with fire trucks, evacuating under the guise of "gas leak." He sat in the passenger seat of the first Iveco.
This wasn't an official mission.
This was him remembering the man he'd been three years ago—the one who crawled out of the Qilian Mountains underground, with skin peeled off his left leg, with his left eye marked by cold air. And that comrade who'd kept blinking even when the crystal had sealed up to his neck.
This time, no one else would be sealed into Black Crystal.
Part IV: Gu Chen - Descending the Mountain
After hanging up Old Master Qi's call, Gu Chen stared at the east city direction for three seconds.
The bamboo staff tapped the ground twice. Then he leaned on it and walked down the mountain.
The earth vein monitoring artifacts inside Cuiping Mountain all sounded at once. Normally, the copper bells would ring once, but this time it was the first continuous resonance since their casting 842 years ago. The frequency matched the Qilian Mountains incident, but the amplitude and rhythm were completely different. More urgent, faster, more chaotic.
When he reached the halfway point, his phone vibrated.
Log push from the earth vein monitoring system. The system had automatically flagged an anomaly, and there was an extra line at the end of the buffer—translated into Bagua symbols, it read "Li Huo Dong, Kun Di Lie."
Gu Chen stared at those six characters for a moment.
He didn't ask where they came from. He tightened his grip on the bamboo staff.
Winter in Qilian Mountains, thirty-one years ago. He was thirty-six, had practiced at Wudang for twenty-seven years. First time participating in seal repair after descending the mountain. The three cinnabar talismans on the bamboo staff—the bottom one was drawn that winter. The deepest burn marks, because the pressure had been greatest then, the talisman power burning the fiercest.
He remembered the dark red light in the crack. Remembered how Black Crystal had closed in from all directions. Remembered the hissing sound of the Judge's cinnabar brush drawing circles in the air.
He also remembered those six characters "Li Huo Dong, Kun Di Lie" had another origin—Qingwei Temple's earth vein monitoring system warning code. Generated only when a level three or higher crack appeared in a seal.
But this code hadn't been automatically generated by the system. It had been stuffed into the end of the data packet.
Someone had known the crack was coming in advance.
Gu Chen flagged down a taxi. "East city. New district."
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, said nothing. A Taoist priest from the foot of Cuiping Mountain entering the city at night—this was the kind of passenger drivers knew better than to ask about.
Gu Chen sat in the back seat, right hand resting on the bamboo staff. Three cinnabar talismans on the staff—the bottom one with the deepest burn marks, the middle one also scorched, the top one still new.
He remembered what Mo Yan had said in the meditation room.
"Qilian Mountains, thirty-one years ago. Black Crystal. Six people."
That nightmare demon wrapped in a soul membrane knew not only about the seal, but also about Black Crystal. He knew too much.
But Gu Chen hadn't reported him to the Underworld. Because he was weighing which was more dangerous—a heartless nightmare demon, or a sealed entity accelerating its ascent.
The taxi crossed the river bridge. The lights of east city's new district spread out ahead like shards of glass scattered on the ground.
Gu Chen gripped the bamboo staff even tighter.