Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

It spoke slowly, and even carried a hint of weary sarcasm.

"Ten years ago, your father came carrying a knife—"

This was not said to Xilun, but to Lund.

"He was so scared that his whole body was shaking and his hands could barely hold on, but he still chopped it down."

You are just like him, with strong bones, but you are still too small, too short, and too slow.

You always want to close the door to the sea again, but do you know who has been sheltering those who drowned over the past ten years, and who has been remembering those lost secrets?

Nine tentacles swayed slowly in mid-air, like a circle of unfurled sacrificial flags.

The black water surged, and below it were countless pale arms and swollen faces. They didn't rush up, but just surrounded the severed limbs, as if in worship.

"You gave people to the sea, you gave the truth to the sea, you gave things that cannot be seen in the light to the sea..."

"The sea didn't reject me, and neither did I."

"But the living will always come back to snatch it."

Lund wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, his face was terribly pale, but his eyes were as cold as knives.

Stop trying to save face for yourself.

He flicked the tip of his spear, and the crimson light sliced ​​through the rain, directly slicing a large patch of black water out of an oncoming tentacle.

"If you only wanted to bury the corpses, you wouldn't have sewed them into your body."

The white eye on the palm of the severed limb blinked slowly.

"That's what we'll leave behind."

"It's you living people who will always forget."

Lund didn't reply.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had already spotted Xilun approaching step by step.

The white light pierced through the black tide and shone on the boy's cold and hard eyebrows, like a sliver of moonlight suddenly rising in the dark sea. Though thin, it somehow suppressed the malice around him.

For a fleeting moment, Lund's eyes flickered slightly.

Ten years ago, on a stormy night, in the dim yellow light under the bridge, his father looked back at him for the last time, and it was very bright.

It's not about being strong or ruthless, it's about being bright.

Like someone who has spent their entire life hiding, finally forced into a corner with nowhere left to retreat, they can only turn around and raise their knife.

Now, it was someone else's turn to walk towards him.

"Silen!" Lund's voice suddenly turned stern. "Don't come any closer!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the three tentacles lunged at Xilun as if they were a school of fish that had smelled blood.

Xilun shifted his foot, the gun barrel blocked, and with a bang, the first line was deflected.

The second tentacle wrapped around the gun barrel. His left palm suddenly lit up with white light, and the moment he slapped it down, the tentacle seemed to be branded with a hot iron, its surface crackling and exploding with large wisps of gray smoke, and the wrapping force was abruptly broken.

The third one is the most sinister, running along the black water from bottom to top, heading straight for his calf!

Xilun's eyes remained unchanged as he lowered the butt of his gun and slammed it down!

Snapped!

The black water exploded, and the tentacle, along with the half-foot-thick layer of water below, was slammed into the ground, splashing not water droplets, but clumps of black, fishy-smelling liquid.

The resentful faces floating all around shrank back, not daring to utter a sound.

But immediately after that, sweat poured down Xilun's forehead.

The white flames are burning.

It's not about burning the enemy, it's about burning himself.

The unseen sacred bud deep between his brows seemed to be violently torn open by a storm, and with each inch it opened, it was draining his spirit.

Xilun's chest heaved once, and he managed to suppress the dizziness using the Moon Memory Meditation Technique, and continued forward.

One step, one step, and another.

The black water receded at his feet, and the ghostly, resentful images along the way encountered their natural enemies, shrinking into the gaps between the steel beams, under the rubble, and into the deeper water.

Those that dared to resist were distorted and deformed by the white light as soon as they appeared, and in the blink of an eye, they turned into a wisp of foul-smelling black smoke.

The white of the hand on the severed limb finally opened completely.

It stared at Xilun, its eyes showing genuine hostility for the first time.

"You shouldn't have come."

"The seeds of the white sprout are born to risk their lives for purity; how long do you think they can protect you?"

Xilun did not answer.

He simply continued forward, the gun barrel trailing a long, cold line across the water.

Lund stared at him, gritted his teeth, and the crimson light at the tip of his spear exploded once more, forcing back the two tentacles that were attacking him head-on.

But the next moment, the seventh tentacle fell from above his head, the eighth wrapped around his back, and the ninth suddenly burst forth from the bottom of the black water, attacking him from three directions at once, forcing him to take a half step back.

With just half a step, the steel beam beneath his feet swayed violently.

Lund's eyes flashed with a cold light. He swept his spear back, splitting the top of his head, and then used his shoulder to take a blow from the side, using the force to counter-stab.

The spear tip pierced the mass of black, sacrificial flesh, and a burst of crimson light exploded within it, creating a spark-like flash that forced the monster to let out a low, hoarse hiss.

Krund himself was also thrown into a tightness in his chest by the backlash, and blood appeared at the corner of his mouth again.

Xilun's eyes darkened, and he quickened his pace.

He had already seen that Lund didn't not want to retreat, but he couldn't.

This thing is holding him down with its entire old cavity, dragging him until his spirit breaks down and his blood and energy weaken, before swallowing him whole.

The rain is still falling.

The black water in the old cavity is still rising.

Protected by a white aura, Xilun drew ever closer, until he was only a dozen steps away from the center where the steel beams and the black tide intersected.

And ahead, the severed limb with eyes in its palm finally slowly raised its broken wrist.

Nine tentacles opened simultaneously, like a dark, damp flower covered in drowned souls.

Its voice also became low and strange at this moment.

"Then let's leave them all behind..."

The entire old tune suddenly trembled.

As soon as the tremor started, the black water suddenly overturned like a boiling pot.

Broken iron, broken rails, floating corpses, and concrete debris were all pushed upwards by that surge.

The nine tentacles rose up together, covering half of the collapsed old cavity, and the stench they brought was like ten years of rottenness in the tide exploding all at once, making people's throats bitter.

Xilun frowned slightly at the stench, but didn't stop walking.

What he saw before him was no longer just black water.

All the resentment and lingering echoes were drilling into his mind.

A woman was crying, saying her child was still under the bridge; an old man whispered for help in his ear; a man was cursing hysterically, saying that all the living should come down and be buried with him; further away, there was intermittent singing, like a nursery rhyme that had been buried at the bottom of the sea ten years ago, rising again and again through the bloated water.

Xilun felt a severe tightness in his chest, and the veins on his forehead began to bulge.

He pushed the Moon Memory Meditation Technique to its limit.

Deep in my mind, the image of that cold moon lies hidden behind dark clouds, unbroken no matter how fierce the storm rages outside.

Using this last sliver of clarity, he continued forward, suppressing all the sounds into a blurry background, focusing only on the person standing on the steel beam ahead.

Lund was also looking at him.

Their eyes met, and neither of them gave way.

The next instant, Lund suddenly hissed, "Leave!"

The sound wasn't loud, but it was harsh, as hard as a piece of iron soaked in blood.

Xilun stepped through the black water forced back by Baiyi and calmly said, "Let's leave together."

Lund felt a jolt in his eyes, and drank even harder: "I told you to leave!"

A tentacle swept across the ground the instant he spoke. Lund parried with his spear, and with a loud bang, sparks flew, causing the steel beams beneath his feet to sink.

His right arm tensed, veins bulging on the back of his hand, as he forcefully snapped the tentacle away. With a flick of his wrist, the tip of his spear flashed like a snake, piercing through another black rope that reached out from behind.

But with this delay, Xilun took three more steps closer.

The white light shone between the two, making the rain seem thinner.

Lund gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with suppressed anger: "Didn't you hear what I said? This was sacrificed to the gods, it's a severed limb, not something you can touch now! You're no match for it, get out of here!"

Siren did not argue.

He simply continued forward, his shoes making a very faint sound as they stepped over the half-submerged steel bars and the cold puddles.

With each passing minute, the feeling of mental torment intensified.

The light of the sacred bud was protecting him, but it was also draining him.

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead and into his collar, but his back remained ramrod straight.

Xilun lowered the golden spear in his hand slightly, the tip of the spear cutting through the black water and leaving a trail of thin ice.

"I'll get you out of here," he said, his voice still steady.

Lund felt a sudden tightness in his chest.

Ten years ago, on that stormy night, his father shoved him into the patrol car, and he spoke very steadily.

But he now understands better than anyone what lies behind that stability.

They never intended to come back alive.

After that night, he dreamed countless times of his father turning back, of the knife, and of the earth-shaking black waves beneath the bridge.

He once thought he hated his father's cowardice, hated that man who was always retreating, always enduring, always yielding. But after ten years, he slowly began to understand—

What truly kept him up at night wasn't his father's retirement.

It was my own retirement back then.

Even though he's lived this long and traveled this far with a gun, deep down he still can't forget the person he was crammed into a car and could only watch helplessly as others went to their deaths.

And now, Xilun is walking towards him.

Like the stubborn self from ten years ago, I've finally emerged from my dream.

"If you keep doing this..." Lund's voice was hoarse, and his grip on the gun tightened. "If you keep doing this, neither of us will be able to leave!"

A tentacle suddenly lashed out from above, and Lund dodged it, but a bloody scratch still appeared on his shoulder.

Then the second tentacle coiled around his ankle, and the third lunged straight at his throat.

Lund swung his gun horizontally, clearing a path, and kicked the black water below, shattering it. The butt of the gun then slammed into his chest, smashing the tentacle that lunged at his face, denting it in the ground.

But that thing didn't care about the pain at all. It didn't even retreat. Instead, it wrapped itself around the gun barrel. Immediately, two more things emerged from the black water and flanked it from the left and right.

Lund's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and a crimson light suddenly exploded along the gun barrel.

boom!

The tentacles that had wrapped around it shrank back as they were burned, and a chorus of wailing faces echoed from the black water.

Taking advantage of the gap, Lund stepped back to the center of the steel beam, his breathing noticeably rapid.

Xilun could see it all clearly.

He took another step forward, and Bai Yi touched the edge of the steel beam. The layers of resentful shadows clinging there immediately shrank back into the black water as if their skin had been peeled off.

The severed limb's white eye stared intently at him, and a hint of inexplicable, chilling anger slowly surfaced in its cloudy white pupils.

It could sense that the whiteness was suppressing it.

It's not the force that overcomes it, but the resentment that has accumulated, the shell that has been built up little by little over the years by tides, by the dead, and by prayers.

"Your master is dying," it whispered, as if stating a simple fact. "If you leave now, you can still live."

"If you stay, you'll only sink with him."

Xilun finally looked up at it.

That look was cold, as cold as looking at a rock blocking your way.

Then he continued forward.

"Teacher," Xilun spoke, his voice not loud, yet clear enough to pierce through the entire black water, "You protected me for two years, please let me protect you just this once—"

The white light brightened a little more.

His face turned even paler, and a thin line of blood even seeped from the corner of his lips, but he still didn't stop walking.

Even if it's just once!

As soon as he said that, Lund felt as if he had been hit hard by something.

He had originally decided not to leave.

He had thought it through very clearly before Xilun came.

Things here are so strange that if they break free from their old ways, the Seventh Wharf, the Linhai Station, and the coastal residential area to the south might all suffer.

Ten years ago, his father didn't retire, and this time it's his turn, so there's nothing for him to retire from.

At worst, I'll just do what I did back then and sink myself and this thing to the bottom of the sea.

It's just a human life.

This wasn't the first time he'd gambled it away.

But now, Xilun stands here.

The white buds shone through the rain, and also illuminated the thread in his memory that should have been severed long ago.

Ten years ago, it was his father who, to protect him, single-handedly confronted "God" with a knife.

Ten years later, his disciple, knowing full well what lay ahead, still entered.

Lund's lips turned white, his chest heaved violently, and two thoughts clashed fiercely in his eyes.

If only he died, that would be fine.

They might drag their own disciples into it...

He can't.

But the severed limb seemed to understand something, a hint of malice flashing in its white eyes, and all nine tentacles stirred at the same moment, pressing down on the two from all directions.

The black water churned even more violently, and even the steel beams atop the old cavity began to groan under the strain, with rubble and rust constantly falling down.

It is awakening.

No, it's not an awakening, it's being forced to wake up a step further.

If this drags on any longer, no one will be able to leave.

Lund suddenly closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, the hesitation was gone, replaced by a fierce intensity that seemed to burn.

His voice wasn't loud, as if he were speaking to Xilun, or perhaps to his younger self from ten years ago, who was submerged by the rain.

"That moment of cowardice ten years ago is something I deeply regret."

Xilun paused for a moment.

Lund stared at the pale, mangled limb in front of him, a blood-stained, cold smile slowly spreading across his lips.

"I used to think that dying alongside my father was an honor for a son."

"But today—"

The black steel spear in his hand suddenly began to tremble.

It's not fear, it's a cry.

The deep gunshot gradually rose in pitch, like sparks being stirred by the wind in the night, growing brighter and sharper.

The next moment, streaks of crimson light suddenly rose along the patterns on the gun barrel, first as a dot, then as a line, and then the entire gun seemed to be ignited by the sunset and starlight at the same time!

"If I were to die in battle alongside my disciples—"

Lund stomped his foot, and the steel beam exploded, creating a ring of water.

"That's due to my incompetence as a master!"

boom!

A crimson spear light shot into the sky!

Xilun's pupils contracted slightly, and almost instinctively pushed Bai Yi forward.

The wisp of holy light wasn't strong, but it pressed down precisely on the surging tide of resentment, tearing a gap in the chaotic chants, cries, and curses.

In just a moment, the most sticky and heavy mental drag in front of Lund was actually cleared out by half a step!

Half a step is enough.

Lund raised his spear, his entire being resembling a crimson star pulled from blood and rain.

The spear tip pierced the first tentacle!

With a snap, the black rope, along with the human face at its end, exploded into a shower of foul-smelling black dust.

The second shot, fired from bottom to top, pierced the second and third tentacles, its crimson light like fire, carving a semi-circular arc through the black water, igniting the very air in its path.

The fourth and fifth tentacles lunged forward, trying to entangle the spear, but Lund twisted his wrist sharply, and the spear's momentum changed from a thrust to a crushing strike—

The crimson light enveloped the gun barrel, like a star that had been forcibly thrown into an old cavity, crashing down with a deafening roar!

boom! boom! boom!

All three tentacles burst open simultaneously, and black water churned up like a wall.

For the first time, genuine shock and rage appeared in the white of the severed limb's palm. The remaining few of its nine tentacles recoiled frantically, only to lash out simultaneously in the next instant, causing large sections of the steel beam above the old cavity to collapse. Lund, however, did not retreat.

His entire body seemed to be burning with energy, his robes fluttering, blood gushing from his wounds, yet his whole being radiated an astonishing light. The crimson glow reflected on his pale profile truly resembled a crimson sunset.

We must win.

Lund spoke in a low voice.

It wasn't a shout, it was something squeezed out through gritted teeth.

"We must survive!"

With that final shot, he poured almost all his strength, all his will, and all the things he had kept hidden for the past ten years into his weapon.

Gun out!

The crimson light no longer spread outwards, but instead condensed into an extremely fine line.

This line moved so fast that even the echoing melody of Xilun couldn't capture its entire trajectory; all that could be seen was a streak of crimson starlight piercing through the swirling black ropes, through the churning black water, through the pale faces and the pieced-together prayers—

puff!

The spear tip pierced straight into the center of that sacrificial-like mass of black flesh.

It struck precisely at the deepest core below the wrist.