After the rain in Ribi City, the sky presented a shade of azure so clear it was almost transparent.
Chen Haoran stood amidst the broken walls and debris, his fingertips trembling slightly as he looked down at the dozens of golden ingots shimmering with dark-red patterns. He pulled out his tactical phone and dialed the encrypted channel of his direct superior.
On the other end, the old Bureau Chief's voice sounded slightly exhausted but retained a characteristic grit: "Haoran, good work. I heard things have quieted down in the southwest? If everything's clear, get back to base. I've got the celebratory wine waiting for you."
Chen Haoran didn't respond. He turned his head to look at the nearby bodies of his comrades, now covered in white shrouds.
Not far away, a wild rose, battered by the torrential rain, stubbornly shook the muddy water from its petals. A few gray sparrows flitted across a damaged eave, letting out a series of light chirps. The wind swept through the treetops, the rustling leaves sounding like a whisper. All life was recovering—except for the men lying on those stretchers, motionless.
"Chief," Chen Haoran took a deep breath, his tone more solemn than ever before, "those dozens of patterned ingots... the ones granted by the Goddess... I'm keeping them."
Silence fell on the other end of the line.
"What golden ingots? Did you run into grave robbers? Or an antique dealer? You, speak clearly." The Chief's volume rose, his breathing becoming heavy.
Realizing his words were ambiguous, Chen Haoran quickly explained the sequence of events. In the Long Nation, embezzling antiques was a serious crime, especially for a public servant; he could not knowingly break the law.
As he described how the Golden Loong had specifically given him these dozens of ingots, his voice choked up. He took another deep breath to steady his thoughts.
On the other side of the phone, the old Bureau Chief fell into deep thought. He knew Chen Haoran too well. In over ten years of service, the kid had earned countless honors but wouldn't even smoke the premium cigarettes awarded to him, distributing them all to his subordinates instead. He wasn't greedy; in fact, he possessed a nearly archaic, stubborn integrity regarding money.
"Haoran, are you serious?" The Chief's voice dropped. "Those are divine artifacts. If it were just money, I could cover for you, but these involve the Beast God's karma. If you take them and the higher-ups investigate, even I won't be able to protect you."
Chen Haoran looked at the flowers and grass swaying in the wind, his eyes bloodshot. "Chief, this isn't just gold. This is... this is life. I can't just stand by and watch them go like this."
The Chief sensed the underlying meaning, and his grip on the phone tightened. He walked to the window. Outside was a bustling metropolis, traffic flowing like water, pigeons flying over the clock tower.
He listened to the report for nearly five minutes, finally understanding the cause and the heavy heart behind this decision.
He thought of Chen Haoran's young team members, remembering how they had grinned and saluted him before they deployed.
"Enough, say no more," the Chief's voice carried a hint of a nasal twang. "I'll take responsibility for this. Keep the items. Don't give them to anyone who comes asking! Even if the sky falls, I'll hold it up."
After hanging up, the old Chief did not hesitate. He accessed the encrypted system and typed out an extra-urgent application, stroke by stroke.
At the end of the report, he noted that the Ribi City branch had directly intercepted this batch of divine materials and added a sentence:
"This concerns the Beast God's karma and the dignity of our martyrs. Branch Chief Guo Min An is willing to take full responsibility. Requesting the Leader's instructions."
As for whether he would be stripped of his uniform or thrown in jail, he looked at the sunlight outside and realized he no longer cared. Suddenly, he let out a laugh, tears glistening in his eyes. "That kid... he's much luckier than I was back then."
A dusty photo frame stood in the corner of his desk. In the picture, a group of twenty-something youngsters had their arms around each other's shoulders, laughing and playing.
Less than half an hour later, on the giant screen of the Long Nation's underground command center, the Chief looked at the real-time footage. He was first astonished by the mountain of gold. One hundred and fifty thousand ingots—this was no longer just a sum of money; it was a physical miracle capable of shaking a regional financial system.
"Order all nearby Loong Shadow units and local armed forces to mobilize, provided it doesn't compromise combat readiness," the Chief's command was clear and powerful. "Use trucks, use your shoulders—bring back every single ounce of that gold. This is a gift from the Beast God, and more importantly, it is the foundation upon which we will rebuild order."
After arranging the transport mission, the Chief turned to the reporter, his expression turning heavy and cold: "On that gold... are the words 'Settled' written there?"
The reporting officer removed his cap, pressing it solemnly against his chest, and nodded slowly. "Replying to the Chief: In the district where the SWAT casualties were highest, the karmic patterns etched into the gold bricks do indeed read 'Settled'."
The Chief's hand trembled slightly, and a heavy silence fell over the high command.
This meant that under some inscrutable divine rule, all past efforts and sacrifices had been calculated and converted into these cold, precious metals.
To them, the cost had just been paid in human lives. "Settled"—emotionally, it felt like a slow execution.
"I understand," the Chief's voice was soft, carrying a trace of profound loneliness. "Is there anything else?"
The commander on the screen took a deep breath to steady his emotions. "Chief, there is one more thing. Captain Chen Haoran... he intercepted several dozen special ingots spat out by the Golden Loong personally. According to him, they are... a medium for resurrection."
"Resurrection?" Dean Hao Xue jolted upright, his glasses nearly sliding off his face.
The conference room erupted in a wave of gasps. In their shared understanding, the collapse of physical logic was outrageous enough, but "the restoration of the dead" was a forbidden zone that even the most fervent mythologists dared not touch.
The Chief froze for three seconds, and then, slowly, his lips curved into a smile. He laughed—a joyful, pure sound, almost childlike in its relief.
Around the table, the other leaders began to smile as well; some even turned away to wipe tears.
What is gold worth? If they could bring those boys back, all the gold in the world combined could not compare to a single one of those young souls.
Meanwhile, amidst the ruins of Ribi City.
Chen Haoran stood before the body of his teammate, cradling a golden ingot. He closed his eyes, following the secret method the Golden Loong had transmitted to him, visualizing the faces and smiles of his fallen brothers one by one.
Hum—
A smiling face surfaced in his mind. It was Vice-Captain Lu Jingxing—the stubborn oaf who, even in his final moments, was worried about dying before he could start a family.
"Ah Jing... is it you?" Chen Haoran whispered.
He stood up, walked to Lu Jingxing's cold remains, and with a trembling hand, placed the golden ingot upon the blood-stained chest.
Dark-gold light exploded instantly.
The ingot dissolved silently into the body, like a snowflake into water. Immediately after, the deathly quiet street was shattered by a fit of violent coughing.
"Cough! Cough... gasp... gasp!"
The body on the ground jerked violently. Then, those eyes—which had long since dilated—miraculously regained their light. Lu Jingxing gasped for air, the fatal piercing wound on his chest writhing frantically under the cloak of golden light.
The bullet was forcibly squeezed out by new-growth tissue, hitting the concrete with a sharp clink. Only when the wound had healed to a non-fatal state did the gold light slowly recede.
Chen Haoran, a battle-hardened man standing over six feet tall, completely broke down. He knelt on the ground, gripping Lu Jingxing's hand with a death-grip, laughing and crying simultaneously, his voice raspy and broken:
"...You bastard, welcome back to the team!"
As one golden ingot after another vanished, the once-silent street filled with the gasps and cries of survivors returning from the brink.
At the City Central Hospital, Tian Shuangxin sat in a special intensive care ward.
Two beds stood side-by-side. On one lay her mother; the doctors said the elderly woman had suffered a shock but was out of danger and merely sleeping.
On the other large bed, however, lay a miniature version of a fancy rat. It was Zhizhi.
She was in a state of deep shock, the platinum luster of her fur looking dull and dim.
"Don't worry too much," a male doctor with glasses spoke gently beside her. He was a state-appointed "Guardian" pet expert, sent specifically for Zhizhi's case. "This is biological energy exhaustion. As for why she hasn't changed back into Sato's body... I suspect it is because of your emotions."
Tian Shuangxin was stunned. "My emotions?"
"Yes," the expert reassured her. "Under the Beast God's rules, the heart of the pet and the owner are linked. You just experienced a massive trauma; your nerves are pulled tight. This intense fear and concern have formed an invisible shackle, preventing her soul from completing that complex transformation. Try to relax. Believe that she will pull through. For her, that's the best medicine."
Tian Shuangxin listened, her understanding only partial. Looking at the frail Zhizhi on the hospital bed, her heart ached with a sharp, bitter sorrow.
She tried to breathe deeply, tried to think of happy things, but her mind was a carousel of the blood-soaked battlefield and Zhizhi covered in wounds.
Nurse Fu, standing nearby, stepped forward and suggested softly, "Ms. Tian, if you truly cannot find peace here, perhaps... doing something else to shift your focus would be better. For instance, what does Zhizhi love most?"
Tian Shuangxin's eyes lit up instantly. "She... she wanted the strawberry cookies that I make. Before she transformed, she was waiting for me to come home and make them for her."
"Go," the expert nodded, gesturing toward the heavily armed guards stationed outside the ward. "This is currently the safest place in the Long Nation. Go bake the cookies. By the time you return with their scent, perhaps she will be awake."
Tian Shuangxin left the ward, looking back over her shoulder with every step. In the corridor, the Loong Shadow Sequence warriors stood like statues before every door. This absolute sense of security finally allowed the tight cord of her tension to slacken ever so slightly.
The ward returned to silence.
The pet expert pushed up his glasses. He turned around, his back to the surveillance cameras, as a profoundly deep and dark glint flashed through his eyes. Under the guise of observing the patient, his left hand gently brushed over Zhizhi's small abdomen beneath the quilt.
At that moment—while everyone, including the security personnel in the monitoring room, believed he was performing a routine palpation—a tiny, translucent crystal flashed between his fingers with extreme speed. It was a scale, shimmering with a ghostly, dark-green light.
He tucked the object securely deep into the fancy rat's bedding, then withdrew his hand without leaving a trace, even carefully tucking the corners of Zhizhi's quilt.
"Heartbeat steady, fluctuations normal," he pushed his glasses again, whispering to the air as if truly talking to himself. "As for the rest, it depends on your own fate."
He did not rush to leave. Instead, he took out a medical clipboard, pretending to look down and record data. Outside the window, the afterglow of the setting sun gilded the hospital's silhouette in a blood-red hue that nonetheless carried the golden promise of rebirth.
The mysterious expert looked up at the sky, a meaningful smile curling the corners of his lips.
"The weather is about to change," he murmured in his heart. Then, he calmly closed the medical records and walked out of the ward.
—Next, it was time for everyone to learn the New Rules.
Beneath the quilt, that single scale began to emit a resonance too faint to be detected, silently nourishing Zhizhi's fractured soul.