The night wind blew from the side, carrying the distinct scent of copper rust unique to Bronze City.
Three figures walked along the route marked by streetlamps toward the inner city.
Lu Yuan led the way, with Lake two steps behind and Bolen walking last, leaning on his cane.
The streets were quieter than expected.
Since the ghoul incident, night freight in Bronze City had nearly come to a standstill. Small merchant caravans that used to sneak through the night now refused to leave unless they could finish their journey by daylight. Occasionally, groups of residents could be seen hurrying along under the lamps with their heads tucked low, their steps so quick it looked as if they were fleeing something.
A Nightwatchers patrol passed through a crossroad in the distance, three men carrying march lamps. One of them glanced toward Lu Yuan’s group and, likely recognizing the Nightwatchers uniform, didn't approach to question them and continued on his way.
The newly repaired gas lamps were lit one after another, their orange-gold light casting irregular patches of brightness across the stone pavement.
A few of the lamps had new glass covers, their reflection much brighter than the older ones, appearing somewhat piercing in the darkness.
Lu Yuan looked up at the sky.
Above the Polymath Tower, that river of dreamlike colors was still flowing slowly, like an inverted Milky Way.
Indescribable colors surged and shifted, stretching from the spire of the Polymath Tower to the other side of the horizon.
Clearly, the Polymath Tower likely had more harvesting missions planned.
Lu Yuan didn't linger on the sight.
“Where is it pointing?”
Lake’s voice came from behind.
Lu Yuan tilted his head, and his perception reached out from deep within his left eye, following that faint, ethereal thread.
The thread was thinner than it had been when they left the branch, swaying slightly in the night wind as if it might snap at any moment.
The direction was clear.
“East, the inner city.” Lu Yuan paused. “Move faster. The mark is fading.”
Bolen said nothing, but his cane tapped twice on the stone floor as he quickened his pace.
The footsteps of the three men echoed in the empty street, mingling with the creak of a distant window swaying in the wind.
As they crossed the boundary between the outer city and the inner city, the density of the streetlamps increased significantly.
The roads in the inner city were neater than those in the outer city, the gaps between the stone slabs narrower, and the buildings on both sides shifted from a mix of wood and stone to pure stone structures.
Lu Yuan’s pace suddenly slowed.
Deep within his left eye, the state of the thread changed.
The thin line that had been flickering and on the verge of breaking began to stabilize upon entering the inner city.
Its color shifted from greyish-white to a pale gold, its outline becoming much clearer.
Clearly, the mark had fully solidified as they approached the target.
Lu Yuan followed the thread with his gaze.
The clue pointed directly toward a two-story stone building at the end of the streetlamp's reach.
It wasn't a grand mansion or a private estate, but a common commercial freight depot.
The front featured a wide double wooden door reinforced with iron strips. It had clearly seen long use, as the edges of the iron were beginning to rust. A dark wooden sign hung above the door frame, its paint peeling.
The light from the streetlamp hit the sign, making the words just barely legible.
“Hoffman Freight · East District Warehouse”
Lu Yuan looked at the sign and ran the name through his mind.
Hoffman Freight.
It wasn't a major name in the inner city, but it wasn't a shady operation either.
There were over a dozen such firms in the inner city, specializing in transit storage between foreign merchant caravans and inner city shops, profiting from the difference in transportation costs.
They were small-scale with low profit margins, managing to squeeze in only because they had somehow established connections with the big figures who controlled the merchant associations.
Under normal circumstances, the Nightwatchers wouldn't give a place like this a second look.
With limited manpower and energy, who would bother to investigate a small-time delivery and storage firm in a place as large as Bronze City?
Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and looked at Lake.
Lake had already stopped. Beneath his brown short hair, his blurred face turned toward the warehouse, and several tentacles emerged silently from beneath his collar, swaying gently in the air.
“There are people inside,” Lake said. “The lights are still on. At least two guards.”
“I'll take a look first.”
Without waiting for Lu Yuan’s response, the fabric of his trousers near his ankles bulged slightly.
Several fat grey meat-worms dropped from his flesh onto the stone floor, the sound of their landing so faint it was practically non-existent.
The worms paused for less than a second under the light before darting along the base of the wall at a speed far beyond that of any normal creature, disappearing through the crack at the bottom of the warehouse doors.
Lu Yuan led Bolen into a side alley.
The alley was narrow, just wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side.
The walls were made of rough grey rock, adorned with a half-shredded merchant association notice that had been ruined by rainwater.
Bolen leaned against the wall, resting his cane by his feet and tucking his hands into his coat pockets.
They waited for about two minutes.
Lake’s voice came from the alley entrance, flat and indifferent.
“The guards are asleep. Let's go.”
Lu Yuan didn't ask how he had put them to sleep.
Lake was always thorough; there was no need to question the details.
The three of them circled around to the warehouse’s cargo passage.
This was a narrow alley specifically for moving goods, the ground still showing scratches from wooden crates being dragged across it. The side entrance was an inconspicuous single wooden door, its bolt having been slid open from the inside by the worms.
Lu Yuan pushed the door open and entered.
The interior of the warehouse was much larger than it appeared from the outside.
The entrance led to a loading area where iron pulleys hung from the ceiling beams to the floor, their ends fitted with rusted iron hooks.
Beside them was a set of trolley tracks embedded in the floor, leading deep into the warehouse.
In a corner of the loading area stood a slanted wooden table. Half a pot of cold tea and a burning oil lamp sat upon it; the wick was nearly spent, the flame no larger than a bean, casting a dim, yellow light.
Two guards were slumped on a bench by the table, their breathing steady and deep. One was even drooling, and the teacup in his hand had tipped over, spilling tea across half the table.
Lake walked past them without a single glance.
A few more steps took them into the main storage area.
The space suddenly opened up, occupying the majority of the building.
Rows of wooden shelves stretched from the door to the back wall, stacked neatly with sacks, wooden crates, and rolls of fabric. Each section was labeled and organized by merchant name.
The air smelled of fabric and hay, mixed with the bitter scent of insect-repelling spices.
Lake stopped in the aisle between the shelves and tilted his head. His tentacles swayed in the air for a few moments before retracting.
“There's nothing here,” he said, looking at Lu Yuan. “No aura of contamination. The guards are just ordinary humans.”
The faint light of inscriptions flickered on Bolen’s hand for a moment before fading. The old man gave a slight shake of his head.
“This place is clean.”
Lu Yuan wasn't in a hurry.
He stood between the shelves, the thread deep within his left eye still pointing steadily toward the floor.
Not ahead, but below.
“There's something underground.”
Lu Yuan’s gaze swept across the warehouse floor.
The stone slabs were tightly fitted, but the color of some tiles differed from the rest.
However, a warehouse of this scale would normally have one or two brick-lined cellars for storing goods sensitive to moisture or heat.
He followed the thread’s guidance to the furthest corner of the warehouse.
There was an inconspicuous gap between the shelves and the wall, just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
A trapdoor sat on the floor, its iron ring handle polished bright from frequent use.
Lu Yuan pulled the trapdoor open.
A rush of cool air surged up from below, carrying the scent of wine and sealing wax.
Stone steps led downward, disappearing into the darkness.
Lake didn't hesitate. Several worms dropped from his sleeves and scurried down the edges of the steps.
After a moment, Lake nodded.
“No danger. Let's go down.”
The three of them descended the stone steps.
The cellar wasn't large, about ten meters square, with a low brick archway that nearly brushed their heads. Wooden wine racks lined the four walls, holding rows of sealed ceramic jars and glass bottles covered in a thin layer of dust.
In the corner sat a few nailed wooden crates labeled “Hoffman · North Ward Transfer.”
Everything seemed normal.
Lake frowned.
“Still nothing.”
Lu Yuan didn't respond. His gaze followed the thread to the western wall of the cellar.
That wall looked identical to the other three, with the same grey brickwork and mortar.
But the thread passed right through it.
At the same time, grey-white text flickered at the edge of his vision.
【Environmental Perception: Slight source of pollution detected...】
Lu Yuan walked to the wall and ran his fingers along the brick joints.
When his fingertips brushed against a specific brick, the sensation was wrong.
The other bricks were rough, but this one was too smooth, as if it were frequently pressed.
He pushed down hard.
Click.
A very faint mechanical sound came from inside the wall.
The entire wall slid half a meter to the right, revealing a pitch-black passage behind it.
A chill surged out from the depths of the passage, carrying a faint, cloyingly sweet scent, like rotting flowers.
The moment Lu Yuan caught that scent, he knew they had arrived.
Lake’s reaction was faster than Lu Yuan’s. His body began to writhe, his human silhouette blurring in the shadows as tentacles emerged from his collar and sleeves, reaching toward the passage.
“Let me scout first.”
Several worms scurried along the walls of the passage and vanished inside.
Lu Yuan and Bolen waited for about fifteen seconds.
The tips of Lake’s tentacles twitched slightly before retracting.
“It's deep. There's a large space below.” He paused. “My worms touched something... it's hard to describe.”
“Let's go,” Lu Yuan said without hesitation.
The passage was much wider than the cellar entrance, enough for two people to walk side-by-side.
The steps were carved from solid grey rock, their surfaces worn smooth—a level of wear that couldn't have been caused by occasional use.
Simple iron lamp holders were nailed to the walls on both sides. Most of the lamps were out, their bases stained black from long-term smoke and the wicks encrusted with residual wax.
The stone steps descended for about thirty meters.
At the end was a heavy iron door.
The iron door was wide open.
Lu Yuan stopped at the threshold.
The space behind the door far exceeded his expectations.
The scale of this place could no longer be called a cellar.
Someone had excavated a hall beneath the inner city.
It was an elliptical space, at least thirty meters along its long axis and about twenty meters across.
The ceiling was a carved grey rock arch, roughly five meters high, with chisel marks still visible on the surface.
Greyish-green roots covered everything.
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