Clues Interrupted, Initial Response Direction Set

The oil-paper packet in Chen Wuya's arms suddenly shuddered violently, as if some dormant alien thing had awakened deep within its flesh, slowly battering against the prison of its marrow. Each tremor drew out fine veins of fluorescent light that wound beneath the skin like ancient runes quietly being summoned awake. His pupils contracted. He immediately pulled out the bundle, and the instant his fingertips touched the thin paper, a thread of warmth seemed to seep in, flowing slowly from his fingertips into his heart—like cradling a cup of hot tea in winter, gently soothing every corner of his thoughts.

"It's responding," Bai Zhi murmured, her gaze locked on the rock crevice where that bluish-gray glow had vanished.

Chen Wuya said nothing. He swiftly stuffed the oil-paper packet into the cold-jade pouch at her waist. The vibration ceased abruptly, as though frozen solid. Bai Zhi pressed the pouch's opening, and a faint glimmer flashed from the cold jade, sealing away that restless agitation.

Footsteps sounded in the distance, neat and slow, treading over gravel with a steady crunch—no, more like the soft sound of stepping through snow. Yet there was no snow here. The two exchanged a look, and Chen Wuya made a gesture: circle behind, stay close to the cliff.

They turned and withdrew into the depths of the ravine, their toes touching down without a sound. Just as they climbed over the edge of the riverbed, a ghostly blue light swept through the grass—it was the glow of a night-vision talisman, suspended in the patrol leader's hand like a floating eye.

Four black-robed guards advanced in a fan formation. Their blades remained sheathed, yet killing intent already pressed down upon the air. Their steps matched, their breathing synchronized. They were unlike ordinary patrols, more like death warriors whose