Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Lund stared at the figure, and his chest jolted.

He suddenly understood.

Ten years ago, he was sent away by his father, not because he was too cowardly to stay.

It's because he's just a child.

His father pushed him onto the path of life, not so that he would live with shame for the rest of his life.

He needs to live, to live until one day he can stand up on his own.

The rain began to stop, and the Black Sea receded.

The shadow of the approach bridge gradually faded, and the pale, mangled limbs were blurred by the morning light, like an old dream that had finally lost its weight.

Young Lund was still crying in the patrol car.

Lund walked over and stood in front of the child.

He crouched down and looked at that terrified, innocent face, which was covered in tears.

He used to hate that face so much.

But at this moment, he simply reached out and gently pressed down on the boy's shoulder.

"It's not your fault."

The boy was stunned.

Lund's voice was hoarse, but steady.

"Being afraid is not wrong."

"It's not wrong to survive."

He let you go because he loves you.

The boy's lips trembled, and tears mingled with the rain as they streamed down his face.

Lund stood up and looked ahead.

Roy stopped too.

The man who had been described as weak, cowardly, and timid all his life turned around and looked at him through the gradually dissipating rain.

The same ugly smile was still on his face.

It felt like shame, yet also like relief.

Lund's throat tightened violently.

He wanted to say a lot, to say that he had hated him, and to say that he had been waiting for him to come back.

I wanted to say that I later learned how to use a gun, how to teach students, and how to stand firm in the face of danger.

All the words stuck in his chest, and in the end, only a low, hoarse call remained.

"Father!"

Roy smiled.

The rain stopped.

The sky gradually brightened from leaden gray, the clouds parted, and sunlight fell on the bridge.

That torrential rain that lasted for ten years finally ended in my dream.

Lund suddenly opened his eyes.

The firelight from the fireplace came into view, dry, warm, and carrying the faint aroma of burning wood.

He lay in his bedroom, the curtains drawn, the sound of rain muffled by the glass, almost inaudible.

Several people were sitting by the bed.

Sarah leaned against the window, arms crossed, her eyes a little red, but she still pretended to be calm.

Saiwei stood at the foot of the bed. When he saw him wake up, he almost went forward, but was stopped by the butler.

Xiren sat in a chair, his outer garment now a clean, dark robe, his face still pale.

His right hand hung down beside the armrest, his sleeve covering his wrist, and his eyes showed undisguised fatigue.

Lund looked at them for a long time before he seemed to have truly emerged from that rain.

"How long did I sleep?"

His voice was terribly hoarse.

Sarah walked to the bedside and whispered, "Not long, just a few hours."

Lund closed his eyes.

My left arm still hurts, my chest hurts, and my whole body feels like it's been taken apart and then put back together.

But a corner in my heart that had always been damp, dark, and moldy suddenly felt empty.

It wasn't that it was dug away; it was that the light finally shone in.

He turned his head and looked at Xilun.

"You brought me back?"

Xilun nodded: "The teacher still has lessons to teach."

Lund paused for a moment.

Then, he chuckled softly.

The laughter aggravated his wound, causing him to immediately frown and cough twice.

Sarah said irritably, "Don't push yourself too hard just because you've just woken up."

Lund stopped laughing, but there was still a little moisture in the corner of his eyes.

He looked up at the ceiling and murmured, "I dreamt about him."

The room fell silent.

Sarah asked, "Roy?"

Lund gave a soft "hmm".

"He's still very scared."

He said, "But he still went."

Sarah lowered her eyes and remained silent.

Lund raised his right hand and covered his eyes.

After a long silence, he spoke in a very low voice.

"I used to think that I was too cowardly to watch my father die in front of me!"

"I have been trapping myself in a never-ending downpour, trying to atone for my sins through torment."

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Father, I miss you..."

His fingers trembled slightly as he uttered those words.

It felt like it took ten years before I finally allowed myself to admit it.

Saiwei turned his back and wiped the corner of his eye.

Sarah whispered, "Roy would be happy if he heard this."

Lund lowered his hand, his eyes reddening, but he didn't let the tears fall.

He told me not to hide like he did.

"I hid for ten years."

He looked at Xilun, his eyes tired, but much clearer than before he fell into a coma.

"If it weren't for you last night, I'd probably still be thinking about dying there, as if it were paying off a debt."

Xilun shook his head: "You'll only be considered paid for if you live."

Lund looked at him for a while.

"You child, you have such an unpleasant way of speaking."

"The teacher never taught a class that made students likeable."

Sarah couldn't help but chuckle softly.

The heavy atmosphere in the room was slightly eased by this simple statement.

Outside the window, the rain had completely stopped.

A faint ray of morning light peeked through the edge of the curtains and fell on the wooden floor at the foot of the bed.

Lund looked at the light and suddenly whispered something.

"Father!"

This time, there was no fear, no regret, and no resentment.

It's just nostalgia, just farewell.

Xilun lowered his eyes and did not disturb him.

Beneath the cuff of his right wrist, the ring of black mist contracted slightly in the shadows where the morning light couldn't reach.

It was as if it had heard something, or perhaps it was waiting for something.

Deep in the city's drainage system in the distance, murky river water slowly flows over the stone walls.

A pale remnant was stuck between the rusted iron bars, black smoke and grayish-white filaments intertwined, sometimes separating, sometimes tearing each other apart.

The sound of water was soft and fragmented.

Like a very low laugh.

It's like a song that hasn't been finished yet.

……

The morning light gradually spread.

The windows of Lund Manor still bore traces of last night's rain.

Tiny water droplets slid slowly down the glass, leaving a transparent trail on the windowsill, like some kind of undried tear.

The fireplace in the room burned steadily.

The firewood crackled, and warmth emanated from the stove, dispelling the mingled smells of medicine, blood, and damp clothing.

Xilun sat on the edge of the bed, holding a glass of warm water.

Lund drank half a glass and leaned back against the pillow.

His face was still pale, his left arm was immobilized by thick bandages, there were several bruises and purple marks on his shoulder and back, and his chest was still slightly heaving and unsteady when he breathed.

But compared to last night's deathly state, where it seemed like it could be dragged into deep water by the black line at any moment, things are much better now.

At least those eyes were clear.

No longer feeling trapped by the rain.

Sarah was looking through the prescription left by the doctor, her brows furrowed.

"You can't put any force on that arm for a while." She put the prescription on the table. "And the bruise near your sternum, the doctor said it's best to stay in bed for ten days."

Lund glanced at her: "The doctor also said I shouldn't have gotten out of bed last night."

Sarah said coldly, "So the doctor is right."

"I'm alive."

"That's because someone carried you back."

Lund was silent for a moment, then his gaze fell on Xiren.

Xilun's complexion was still very bad.

He changed into a clean robe last night and dried his hair, but the weariness in his eyes was still undeniable.

His lips were pale, and his knuckles would occasionally feel slightly cold. Only his eyes remained calm, like heavy iron hidden beneath the surface of water.

Lund whispered, "Go and rest."

Xilun put down his cup: "The teacher's left arm needs to be examined again."

"I've already seen it."

That just confirms that the black line hasn't spread.

Lund frowned: "Your mental strength hasn't recovered yet."

"So I don't use techniques now."

Xilun spoke calmly.

He reached out and pressed on the outside of Lund's left arm, gently touching it through the bandage.

The flesh beneath the bandages was slightly warm, and deep inside, there was still a trace of cold, slippery feeling, like moss in a damp crack in a rock that had not been exposed to sunlight.

The contamination left by the severed limb was indeed suppressed and did not continue to climb up the blood vessels.

But it is still there, quietly lying dormant.

Xilun's fingertips paused for a moment.

The thing looked like a sleeping insect egg; there was no visible movement on the surface, but there were still tiny tremors inside.

Lund noticed his pause: "Is it troublesome?"

"It can be handled," Siren said, releasing his grip. "It just needs time."

Lund looked at him: "When you say you can handle it, it's usually because it's really troublesome."

"The teacher is still alive."

"This sentence sounds more complicated."

Sarah couldn't help but glance at the two of them.

One of them almost died at the bottom of the sea, and the other looked like he had just crawled out of his grave, yet they could still bicker so calmly.

She lowered her head and rubbed her temples, feeling a weight lift from her chest.

Saiwei brought hot porridge and freshly brewed medicinal soup.

Lund forced a few sips, his fingers trembling slightly, before finally putting down the silver spoon.

This body was pushed to its limits by the black water, severed limbs, pollution, and the battle of the previous night.

It's a miracle I even woke up. There's no way I could immediately revert to the cold, hard state I have when I hold a gun.

Xilun watched his actions without saying much, only instructing Saiwei to place the medicine by the bedside and reminding Ningjing that the interval between doses of the medicine should not be too short.

He only got up after everything was arranged.

As soon as I took a step, everything went slightly dark.

Xilun gripped the back of the chair, and the room fell silent instantly.

Sarah immediately stepped forward: "You lie down too."

Xilun paused for a moment, then said, "No need."

"You vomited blood last night."

"He didn't continue vomiting."

Sarah choked for a moment.

Lund looked at him, his tone becoming more serious: "Silen."

Xilun looked up.

Lund's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a sternness rarely seen in a teacher: "Go to sleep."

After that sound, no one in the room spoke again.

Xilun stared at him for a moment, then finally nodded.

"I'll sleep for two hours."

Lund said, "Sleep until you naturally wake up."

"If there are any changes in the pollution, have Servier call me."

"You are not allowed to make a sound even if there are changes."

Xilun's brow twitched slightly.

Lund looked at him, his gaze steady: "Just because you saved me once doesn't mean you'll be in charge from now on. This matter is my decision!"

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

"it is good."

He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The thick, dark red carpet in the corridor seemed to absorb the sound of footsteps.

Several old oil paintings hang on the wall, their frames worn dark by time.

The rain outside the window had stopped completely, leaving only the occasional dripping sound of water from the eaves, one drop after another, tapping on the stone steps.

Xilun went to the guest room next door.

The room was clean, the sheets were neat, the fireplace was burning low, and there was warm water, a dry cloth, and an unopened bottle of tranquility potion on the table.

He did not lie down immediately.

Instead, he stood by the window and slowly rolled up his right sleeve.

The black mark on the wrist bone was still there.

It's not deep, like a circle lightly drawn with ink lines.

But when his gaze fell upon it, the edge of the black mist contracted very slightly, as if something in the shadows had opened its eyes.

Last night he rushed into that dark sea amidst the torrential rain, where water ghosts and spirits lurked beneath the surface, along with those divine-like severed limbs.

Some kind of power was left in his body, making him dizzy and uncomfortable.

Siren tried pressing it with a prayer bud.

It can't be pressed down.

It doesn't spread like ordinary pollution, nor does it actively erode flesh and blood; it simply exists quietly.

The quiet is actually more dangerous.

He lowered his sleeves.

"Divinity..." Xiren murmured the word.

In the old grotto of Seven Wharf, the pale, mangled limb with an eye in the palm, merely a remnant of an arm, could manipulate black water, vengeful spirits, torrential rain, and people's nightmares.

It can even retain a clear consciousness after being severely damaged and suppressed by the old system for many years.

If that is only a part of a certain being's existence.

What should a complete thing look like?

Xilun pressed his temples, a sharp pain shooting through his mind.

He stopped thinking about it, took off his outer robe, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The mental strain was greater than he had anticipated. Last night, he used the Prayer Sprout continuously and forcibly cleared a path through the contaminated remains, ultimately triggering two streams of contaminated residue to tear at each other.

Even though his Moon Memory Meditation Technique was stable enough, he still felt a pain as if his brain was being repeatedly pricked by fine needles.

He closed his eyes, intending only to take a short nap.

But fatigue surged up like deep water, quickly engulfing my mouth and nose.

As consciousness sank, the sound of the fireplace in the room faded into the distance, while the sound of water drew closer.

Splash, splash!

When Xiren opened his eyes, he found himself standing on a black beach.

The sky was terrifyingly low, with no stars or moon.

Thick clouds weighed down like lead plates overhead, while the distant sea was dark and smooth, like a piece of dead skin spread out.

The rain did not fall.

But the air was filled with the smell of rain.

It was fishy, ​​cold, damp, and had a cloying sweetness from the mixture of old well silt and decaying flower roots.

Xilun lowered his head; the ground beneath his feet was not sand.

It was a layer of fine, white bone fragments, smoothed by the seawater, yet making no sound when stepped on.

He looked up at the sea.

In the middle of the Black Sea stands a colossal statue.

The statue was submerged in the water, with only the outline of its chest and above visible.

His face was blurred, as if the tides and the years had washed away his features, leaving only a deep, sunken shadow.

His shoulders were very broad, and eight arms stretched out from behind him.

Each arm was as huge as a bridge.

Some were broken at the elbow, some had vertical eye-like cracks in the palm, some had black iron chains wrapped around their fingertips, some held up broken bronze bells, and some had rings of fleshy white flower buds growing on their wrist bones.

The eight arms hung silently on the sea surface.

Despite not making any movement, Xilun felt an indescribable, terrifying pressure.

It was as if it were not a statue, but something that had died but was not yet fully asleep.

One of the severed arms slowly rotated, and a pale eye opened in the palm of its hand.

Those eyes looked at him.

Countless voices instantly filled Xilun's mind.

There were cries of drowning victims, children's soft humming, the mumbled prayers of Catholics, and the whispers that once echoed from the severed limb deep in the black waters of Pier 8.

"Give it...back to me..."

"The body..."

"Old seal..."

"White Sprout..."

Xilun felt a sharp pain between his brows. He instinctively activated the Moon Memory Meditation Technique, and in his mental world, a cold, white moon appeared, illuminating the surging noise.

The sound suddenly faded into the distance.

But the eight-armed statue still stands in the middle of the Black Sea.

It's too big.

So vast that even the entirety of Xilun cannot be seen.