When Luo Yang opened his eyes, the ceiling was white.
It wasn’t the oppressive grayish-white of the Rift, but a clean, bright white illuminated by fluorescent lights.
The scent of disinfectant drifted into his nostrils, and the low hum of the air conditioner buzzed in the background. Outside the window, it was pitch black, with only the light from the military base's streetlamps squeezing through the gaps in the curtains.
This was the military hospital.
He tried to move his fingers, and a sore, aching sensation surged from every muscle, as if his skeleton had been taken apart and put back together again.
The blisters on the back of his hand, scorched by the mutant beast’s blood, had already been treated. They were wrapped in a thin layer of gauze, through which the cooling sensation of medicinal ointment seeped.
The dizziness caused by his depleted blood energy had mostly faded, replaced by the specific dull ache that follows the overextension of mental power—like someone was slowly carving into his temples with a blunt knife.
Still, it was manageable. He wasn't going to die.
He turned his head.
Qiu Shubai was sitting in a chair by the bed, her hands folded over her knees, her back straight, and her head slightly bowed.
Her ash-gray hair slid from her shoulders, obscuring most of her face. Her breathing was very light, almost inaudible.
She had changed into a clean, light-gray short-sleeved shirt. There was a slight bulge at her left shoulder, outlining the bandages beneath. The section of her wrist visible below the sleeve was even paler than usual, so white that the faint blue veins beneath the skin were visible.
Luo Yang stared at her for a couple of seconds.
Had this girl been sitting here the whole time?
He pushed himself up, the mattress making a slight creaking sound.
Qiu Shubai’s eyelashes fluttered.
She opened her eyes. There was no grogginess from just waking up in those water-clear depths, only a deliberate, forced alertness. She looked at Luo Yang, and Luo Yang looked at her; they stared at each other for three or four seconds.
“You’re awake?” Her voice was flat, as if she were asking about the weather.
“I’m awake.” Luo Yang’s throat was a bit dry, and his voice sounded raspy and unlike his own.
This scene felt strangely familiar.
Qiu Shubai picked up a glass of water from the nightstand and handed it to him. The temperature was perfect—neither too cold nor too hot. Luo Yang took it and gulped down several mouthfuls. The dryness in his throat vanished, and he finally felt like he had truly come back to life.
“What time is it?”
“Three in the morning.”
Luo Yang leaned against the headboard and scanned the ward.
It was a private room with good facilities. A pot of ivy stood on the windowsill, its leaves a vibrant, shiny green.
“What about the Rift?”
“The clearing is finished.” Qiu Shubai tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The mopping-up operation for the mutant beasts on the periphery lasted about nine hours. All Punishers have been withdrawn. No one from the Blade Squad was killed. Zhou Yan broke a few ribs, and Song Zhiyi has some internal organ damage from the shockwaves. They’re both lying in the rooms next door.”
She paused.
“That girl, Yan Zhi, has been taken into military custody.”
Luo Yang nodded. The black-dressed girl who claimed to have been 'dead for a long time' had too many strange things about her. Handing her over to the military was the most logical course of action.
“And you?” he asked. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s nothing.” Qiu Shubai glanced down at her left shoulder. “The military doctor saw it and said it will be completely healed in another day.”
Her tone hesitated for a moment.
“He said my recovery speed was much faster than he expected.”
Luo Yang raised an eyebrow.
“Bloodfall’s state is also much more stable than before.” Qiu Shubai raised her right hand, and a white light flickered in her palm as the hilt of Bloodfall manifested for an instant before dissipating. “That sense of hunger is still there, but it’s like it’s being suppressed by something. It’s been like this since you passed out.”
She looked at Luo Yang, a thin layer of scrutiny in her eyes.
“When you used Bloodfall at the end, it drained a massive amount of blood energy from you. Did you feel it?”
“More than just felt it,” Luo Yang said with a bitter smile. “I was almost drained into a husk. That thing is like a bottomless pit. I feel like the amount of blood energy I poured into it was enough to level a building, yet it didn't even let out a satisfied burp.”
Qiu Shubai didn't say anything.
Luo Yang looked down at the gauze on the back of his hand. Suddenly remembering something, a slightly peculiar smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“Speaking of which, your sword drank so much of my blood energy and then immediately became well-behaved.”
He looked up, watching Qiu Shubai with a half-joking expression.
“What, is my blood energy some kind of miracle cure to tame it? If it acts up again in the future, will you have to come find me so I can nurse it?”
Qiu Shubai froze for a moment.
She turned her head slightly, her ash-gray hair obscuring her profile and leaving only the edge of her ear visible.
“Nonsense,” she said.
Her voice was as flat as ever, but the final word was a fraction softer.
Luo Yang tactfully didn't press further. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, though that trace of a smile lingered for a long time.
The night outside was fading, and a line of bluish-gray appeared on the horizon.
...
The next afternoon, in Cao Tianlin’s office.
To be precise, it was the tactical meeting room next to Cao Tianlin’s office.
A dozen people sat on either side of a long table. Song Zhiyi was in a wheelchair, though his expression was quite spirited.
Zhou Yan’s chest was wrapped in thick gauze, but he sat as upright as a spear.
The rest of the Blade Squad were lined up in order, each bearing injuries of varying severity.
Qiu Shubai sat next to Luo Yang, having changed into a clean academy uniform. The bandages on her left shoulder were hidden by her collar, showing no sign of her injury.
Luo Yang’s energy had mostly recovered. He leaned against the back of his chair, a cup of tea personally brewed by Cao Tianlin sitting in front of him.
It wasn't just some tea dust; it was genuine, high-quality tea leaves.
Cao Tianlin stood before a projection screen, clutching a remote. He wasn't wearing his training fatigues today, but had changed into his service uniform, the general’s stars on his shoulders gleaming with a dark gold luster under the lights.
“Everyone is here, so let’s begin.” He pressed the remote.
An aerial photograph of the Rift’s interior appeared on the screen.
“Rift JX-031, rated as a Level 3 Special Rift. The danger assessment was fifty percent higher than a standard Level 3. Yesterday at 19:42, this Rift was officially closed.”
Cao Tianlin pressed for the next slide.
The image switched to the site of the Rift after it had closed. It was shrouded under a peaceful night sky that showed no signs of anything unusual.
If not for the lingering battle scars on the ground, one would almost think nothing had ever happened there.
“However,” Cao Tianlin’s voice dropped, “the manner in which it closed was unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
He pressed the remote again. A set of data comparison charts appeared on the screen, crowded with dense curves and bar graphs.
Luo Yang didn't really understand those professional charts, but he understood Cao Tianlin’s next sentence.
“When a normal Rift closes, we need to use high-energy weapons on the outside to continuously bombard it until it shuts.”
“But this time, it closed on its own.”
“Furthermore, the dissipation of spatial energy is a gradual process. According to our past experience, it usually takes three to seven days to stabilize. But for Rift JX-031, from the moment we killed that Level 4 mutant beast in the core area until the Rift completely closed—”
Cao Tianlin tapped his finger on the remote.
“It took less than an hour.”
The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.
“Not only that,” Cao Tianlin continued. “After a conventional Rift closes, it leaves behind a continuously decaying point of residual energy, which academia calls a ‘space scar.’ But JX-031 has none.”
He pressed for the next image. Two aerial comparison photos were displayed side-by-side. On the left was what a normal Rift looked like after closing—a faint red spot of light suspended in mid-air. On the right was JX-031; there was nothing, as clean as a wiped mirror.
“It’s like it never existed, right?”
Cao Tianlin set down the remote and leaned his hands on the edge of the table, his gaze sweeping over every face in the room.
“Something like this has only happened three times in the history of Shenzhou—or even in the entire recorded history of Rift observation by mankind. And every single time, it was related to one specific factor.”
He paused for a beat.
“A Throne-class mutant beast.”
Luo Yang’s hand, which was lifting his teacup, paused slightly.
The air in the meeting room seemed to thin, becoming stagnant and heavy.
He knew exactly what that implied.
Ordinary mutant beasts were ranked from Level 1 to 7. Above Level 7, there were two ranks that had appeared so rarely they could be counted on one's fingers.
Humanity had given them two names that befitted their power: Throne-class and Sovereign-class.
Cao Tianlin’s gaze landed on Luo Yang, then moved to Qiu Shubai, and finally swept over every member of the Blade Squad.
“So, the reason I called you here today isn't just for a post-battle debriefing.”
He gestured with his thumb toward the ceiling.
“The people above want to hear it from your own mouths. In that hall, after that peak Level 4 mutant beast fell... what exactly did you see?”
The light from the projection screen reflected on everyone's faces, illuminating their heavy or contemplative expressions in sharp relief.
Luo Yang lowered his head and looked at the tea leaves floating in his cup. He suddenly remembered A-Zhi’s pitch-black eyes, the flat tone in her voice when she said, “It left it behind,” and the golden bead that had rolled to his feet.
He said nothing.
Cao Tianlin’s gaze lingered on his face for a moment before moving away.
“From the beginning,” he said. “Song Zhiyi, you go first.”
Song Zhiyi nodded slightly.
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