Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The rain finally subsided.

On the high ground north of Linhai Station, the morning light squeezed out from the cracked clouds, like a dull knife struggling to cut through the gray-black sky.

A makeshift first aid tent was set up outside the platform, the canvas hanging low from the heavy rain of the previous night, with water dripping from the edges.

The kerosene lamps were still lit, their dim yellow light flickering in the damp, cold wind, casting shifting shadows on the panicked, weary, and numb faces.

The Seven Piers in the distance were still shrouded in mist and the black water after the tide receded.

That place is so quiet.

It was so quiet that it didn't seem like it had been through a whole night of explosions, collapses, and escapes. Instead, it was like a mouth that had just closed, with bones still hidden inside.

As Xilun carried Lund out of the mud and onto the high ground, many people around instinctively took a half step back.

He was soaked to the bone, his white shirt was already stained grayish-red by sewage and blood, the cuffs were torn, and there were several cuts on his shoulders and back from being cut by gravel.

But what's most frightening isn't any of that, but the calmness on his face.

That kind of calm is too cold.

Like someone who has just crawled out of the deep sea, not yet having washed the darkness from the water from their eyes.

Sarah followed beside him, carrying a lantern. Her boots splashed through the puddles, creating a cloud of murky water.

Her face was equally grim, but she didn't say anything unnecessary. She raised her hand and directed a few relatively calm dockworkers to push the cart over.

"Don't crowd here, spread out!"

Her voice was hoarse, yet still carried a powerful force.

"Send the wounded into the shed, and those who are not injured go help the patrol team block the road. Anyone who dares to run towards Pier 7 again, I will personally tie him to a street lamp and wait for the tide to recede."

The people were brought back to their senses by her shout and quickly made way for her.

Siren placed Lund on the blanket-covered cart, his hand not immediately leaving.

Lund remains in a coma.

His face was so pale it was almost transparent, his wet hair clung to his forehead, his breathing was very light, and his chest rose and fell only slightly.

The black lines on my left arm have stopped spreading wildly, but they still resemble a thin snake burrowing into my flesh, coiling from my wrist bone to below my elbow, occasionally wriggling slightly.

Xilun extended his fingertip and pressed it against the edge of the black line.

A sliver of white light appeared.

It's very light.

Like the glow of snow about to fade away.

The black line recoiled as if startled, then burrowed back down close to the skin.

Xilun's eyes twitched slightly, his fingertips retracted, and his palm clenched imperceptibly.

The mental energy has dried up.

If you force the pressure on him further, he might collapse first.

Sarah saw his movement and asked in a low voice, "Can he be saved?"

"He can live."

Xilun's voice was a little hoarse.

"Don't move him for now. Leave here, find a clean room, and don't let strangers touch him."

Sarah did not question it.

She glanced in the direction of Pier 7, where the black water was slowly receding, and the exposed railway tracks looked like spines with their flesh peeled off, lying across the gray fog.

"Go to Lund Manor."

She made a quick decision: "There's a pharmacy there, and Saiwei is there, as is the housekeeper. It's safer than here."

Xilun nodded, bent down, and picked Lund up again.

Someone nearby wanted to step forward to help, but he stopped them with a look.

"You're injured." Sarah frowned.

"He's heavier."

Xilun only replied with three words, then picked up Lund and walked toward the car parked at the street corner.

Pete was helped to sit by the shed by two patrolmen. Half of his face was blue, he was wrapped in a blanket, and his lips were trembling.

Seeing Lund being carried over, the old man's eyes reddened, and he managed a few muffled breaths.

"Alive... truly alive..."

He raised his hand, as if wanting to touch Lund, but not daring to.

Xilun didn't stop walking, but whispered as he passed by him, "Don't go back."

Pete froze.

After a long while, he seemed to have lost all his strength, lowered his head, and covered his face with his hands.

"No more...no more..."

As the car started, the wheels pushed up the water outside the Linhai Station, and the mud splashed against the mudguards, making a dull sound.

Sarah sat in the passenger seat, while the back seat was given to Celen and Lund.

The driver was a young man working for her, his face still bearing the fear of the previous night, his fingers white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

"Take the northern route, and don't go near the riverbank," Sarah said.

The young man nodded immediately.

The train swayed as it drove away from Linhai Station.

Outside the window, rain streaks slant across the glass, and the distant horizon is dark and gloomy, as if some enormous shadow is still lurking underwater, watching the people on the shore through the sound of the tide.

Siren leaned back in the back seat, with Lund's head resting on his knees.

He intended to close his eyes and recover for a moment, but just as the car drove past a bend in the river, a sharp, needle-like pain suddenly came from between his eyebrows.

It was very light, yet extremely deep.

It's like someone slowly threading a damp, thin thread through the back of the ear into the brain.

Xilun opened his eyes.

Outside the car window was a river, muddy from the torrential rain. The water had risen to the edge of the bank, carrying broken branches, driftwood, and grayish-white foam, and was slowly flowing into the city.

In that instant, he smelled a familiar scent.

Dark and damp.

It carried a sweet, fishy smell, a mixture of rotten flower roots and silt from an old well.

It's not the fishy smell of the Seventh Pier.

It's the smell left by that thing below the old well at the Black Dove Church.

Sarah turned around sharply: "What's wrong?"

Xilun did not answer immediately.

He lowered his eyes to look at the inside of his coat.

There was a silver sleeve hidden there.

The outer wall of the sleeve, which he had sealed with wax and locked with thin copper wire, was now slightly cold, like holding a bone that had just been pulled out of the well.

That night at the Black Dove Church, the polluted residue he forced out of his body remained sealed inside.

It was originally as silent as a dead thing.

But now, it's ringing.

It's not a sound.

It is a subtle tremor that clings to the edge of the spirit.

It was as if something was calling to it from the other side of the river.

Xilun raised his eyes, looking at the sea fog gradually receding behind the car, and then at Lund, who was unconscious beside him.

He knew he couldn't take it with him anymore.

Last night, the severed limbs remembered Lund's scent and the whiteness of the prayer buds.

If the lingering poison from the Black Dove Church were to follow them into the manor, no one could be sure what would happen.

"parking."

Xilun suddenly spoke.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car slid half a foot down the slippery cobblestone road before finally coming to a stop.

Sarah frowned at him. "Now?"

"soon."

Xilun got out of the car.

The wind whipped up raindrops and lashed at my face, feeling as cold as the back of a knife.

He walked to the riverbank and took out the silver sleeve.

The sleeve vibrated gently in my palm, and the wisp of black residue inside struck the inner wall, making a faint, almost imperceptible rustling sound.

Xilun stood by the river, his eyes dark.

Sarah also got out of the car, her hand already touching the hilt of her gun.

"What is that?"

"Dirty stuff brought out of the church."

Xilun lifted the wax seal and unscrewed the silver tube.

The moment the nozzle opened, a wisp of black smoke peeked out like a damp strand of hair, then quickly retreated, as if afraid of the morning light.

Xilun gave it no chance to struggle. With a flick of his wrist, he poured the entire fragment, along with the ash from the silver tube, into the river.

Black mist fell into the water.

Without splashing any water, the river surface suddenly sank.

It was as if the entire river had been pressed down by an invisible hand.

The next moment, the world suddenly fell silent.

The sound of rain disappeared, the sound of wind disappeared.

Even the steam from the car and the voices from the distant ambulance shed were cut off in an instant.

Siron's pupils constricted slightly.

He sensed a rage, not a human emotion.

It's more like two dark places, one buried underground and the other at the bottom of the sea, being awakened at the same time, and simultaneously reaching out their unseen hands to grab at this tiny piece of polluted residue.

Deep in the river, the black mist suddenly dispersed, transforming into countless fine threads.

Half of it floats upwards, like the old well singing in the air.

Half of it sank downwards, as if being held back by a pale eye in the ocean tide.

Two voices suddenly resounded in Xilun's mind.

A cold, drawn-out sound, tinged with the guttural echoes of countless drowned victims.

"...It belongs to...me..."

Another fine, densely packed prayer, like words squeezed out from rotten roots.

"...Ya...Jiufeng...Jingyi..."

The two voices intertwined, tearing at the remnant of matter and at the mental edge that Xilun had just loosened.

He felt a tightness in his chest, and a metallic taste rose in his throat.

A small grayish-white object floated to the surface of the river.

Like scraps of meat.

It also resembles a piece of bitten-off finger bone.

The thing only appeared for a moment before it was entangled by the black mist.

Immediately afterwards, it seemed as if two consciousnesses simultaneously revived beneath the river's surface, vying for ownership of an unclaimed limb. The water surged backward, white foam billowed, and thin streams of black water seeped from the cracks in the riverbank.

Sarah drew her gun, pointed it at the river, and her expression changed drastically.

"Silon!"

Xilun raised his hand to stop her.

His fingers were trembling, and the white light between his brows instinctively lit up, only to dim again due to exhaustion.

Do not touch it, and do not apply any more pressure.

That's not just simple pollution.

Two deeper darknesses sensed each other through the remnants of darkness.

He didn't know how to describe it, but he could use a metaphor.

It's like having two evil gods inside a single body.

Now, the evil god is about to seize control of the body.

Whether it's the eeriness beneath the Black Crow Church or the consciousness amidst the torrential rain, whoever wins in the end is irrelevant to him.

"It would be best if they fought to the point of mutual destruction!"

A moment later, the river surface suddenly trembled.

All the sounds have returned.

The rain started falling again, the steam from cars rumbled softly by the roadside, and in the distance someone shouted about carrying a medicine box; it was as if the world had never stopped.

The river water was still murky.

The wisp of black smoke disappeared, and the silver tube sank to the bottom of the river.

Only a faint ripple spreads slowly from the center of the river, like an eye that has just closed.

Xilun stood there, his face deathly pale.

Sarah holstered her gun and strode forward: "What exactly did you throw?"

"trouble."

Xilun exhaled a breath of cold air.

"At least they won't follow us into the manor."

Sarah stared at him for two seconds, then lowered her voice and said without pressing further, "You look more like an injured person than Lund right now."

"We'll talk about it when we get back."

Xilun turned and got into the car.

As he sat back in the back seat, his fingers inadvertently touched his right wrist, causing him to pause slightly.

Below the cuff, a wisp of extremely faint black mist clung to the skin and moved about.

Like a ring of wetness yet to form, it quietly clings to the wrist bone.

Xilun lowered his eyes and slowly pulled down his sleeves.

As Sarah sat back in the passenger seat, she glanced at his wrist in the rearview mirror.

She glanced at him, but said nothing.

But the shape of that black mist was already firmly etched in her mind.

The car restarted and drove along the northern route into the city.

Behind us, the Linhai River continued to surge.

Rainwater fell onto the river surface, breaking into small, rippled circles.

Unseen by anyone at the bottom of the water, a pale fragment slowly spun along with the undercurrent, as if being dragged by two different breaths at the same time, sinking into the deeper and narrower city drainage channel.

As the car entered the southern district, the rain had turned into fine gray lines.

The gas lamps on both sides of the street were still on, their shades covered with water droplets. The halo of light was blurred by the mist, making the whole city look like it had just woken up from a nightmare, its face still covered with cold sweat that hadn't been wiped away.

The morning market is closed.

Occasionally, a horse-drawn carriage would pass by the street corner. The driver, draped in an oilcloth, would hurry along with his head down, not daring to even glance at it.

News of the torrential rain in the coastal area and the closure of the Seventh Wharf has spread.

The South District was unusually quiet this morning. Many eyes were hidden behind the curtains, but no one dared to open the windows.

Siren sat in the back seat, his left hand on Lund's shoulder to prevent the car from aggravating his wound when it bumped.

Lund's breathing was a little more stable than before.

But his brow remained furrowed, as if he were trapped in some place where he could not wake up.

Occasionally, he would make a very low sound from his throat, the words indistinct, but one could hear the pain and anger suppressed within them.

Xilun stared at him for a while before looking away.

The black aura on my right wrist is still there.

It did not spread, nor did it penetrate deeper into the flesh.

But it exists too quietly, so quietly that it's unsettling.

Xilun closed his eyes and tried to use the Moon Memory Meditation Method to introspect.

In the spiritual world, the moonlight is no longer full, like a silver plate washed by a rainstorm, its edges somewhat dimmed.

The sacred bud of prayer was tucked deep between the eyebrows, its whiteness thin and its leaf tips drooping slightly, clearly having reached its limit.

He focused his attention on his right wrist.

Beneath the skin and flesh, a dark mark lingered on the outer side of the wrist bone.

Unlike the Black Pigeon Church poison that actively burrowed and bit, or the resentment brought by the remains of the Seventh Wharf that violently crashed into it.

It's more like a damp, cold mark.

He was left there, as if someone had gently pressed his hand across the water.

Xilun tried to draw some white light closer.

The black mark shrank slightly.

Immediately, a pain deeper than a needle prick drilled from my wrist bone all the way to my elbow, and almost instantly climbed up to my shoulder and neck.

Xiren paused, then stopped.

Forcing a reduction in pressure now will only trigger a greater backlash.

Sarah's voice came from the front row: "What happened to your wrist?"

Xiren opened his eyes and saw Sarah looking at him in the rearview mirror.

She wasn't just asking casually.

Those eyes were as sharp as blades when a gun is disassembled—calm, direct, and brooking no perfunctory responses.

"It got grazed," Xilun said.

"By whom?"

"In the river."

Sarah remained silent for a moment.

"Will I die?"

Xilen glanced at his wrist and said calmly, "Not for now."

"The word 'temporary' never sounds reassuring."

Sarah turned her head and looked at the wet, cold street ahead.

"Lund used to say that too. He said that when things were alright for the time being, he was usually prepared to tough it out until he passed out."

Xilun did not respond.

Sarah didn't press her for more information.

The only sound in the carriage was the sound of wheels rolling over the puddles.

After a while, she said in a low voice, "I didn't want you to get involved in his father's affairs."

Xilun looked up and saw that Sarah's shoulders and back were very tense.

"Ten years ago, all of us who survived knew it wasn't an accident, but what good did knowing do? The thing sank to the bottom of the sea, the authorities suppressed the records, the church pretended not to hear, the dockworkers survived by forgetting, and Lund survived by forgetting too."

As she said this, the corner of her mouth twitched slightly, but there was no smile in it.

"I thought that if I told him the truth, he would let it go. Now it seems that I almost killed him."