Chapter 119

Chapter 119

At Tang Xian’an’s words, Shen Qingyang’s smile froze for a fraction of a second.

“I left my work pass at the front desk,” he answered softly the next moment. “Please wait a moment.”

Tang Xian’an did not give him the time. Huangchen left its sheath. A blade of cold, lethal light flashed before Shen Qingyang’s eyes.

A pitch-black tentacle shot up to block Huangchen, only to be sliced cleanly in two down its length. The severed pieces thudded wetly to the floor.

The deep blue eyes covering the tentacle contorted with hatred and malice.

Shen Qingyang hadn’t wanted to expose himself. Reality rarely gave him a choice.

Compared to his tentacles, his main body was far more fragile.

He retracted the bleeding appendage with a soft, muttered curse. “Bloodhound.”

He had no desire to fight Tang Xian’an here. Fighting meant corpses. He didn’t want Lu Yan to see him like this.

He could endure the distance in Lu Yan’s eyes, the calmness, even the wariness. The one thing he couldn’t bear was disgust.

That look would drag him back to the days of being a rat in the gutter. After a work injury left him with a limp, children would trail behind him on the street, laughing and pointing.

Shen Qingyang’s massive, ink-black tentacles erupted, filling the hallway in an instant.

He adopted a fighting stance—a feint. Instead of pressing the attack, he shattered the window beside him and leaped from the dozen-story building.

Tang Xian’an’s draconic wings snapped open behind him. He plummeted like a meteor, his blade cleaving through the dark tentacles that whipped up to block his path. Sapphire-blue blood exploded in mid-air, splattering across the building’s glass facade like a coat of paint.

[Talent 3 - Time]

The severed tentacles quickly lost their vitality, shriveling and falling to the ground like desiccated eggplants.

Huangchen plunged deep into Shen Qingyang’s chest, its tip bursting out from his back.

It all happened in the space between heartbeats.

Where the blade touched, Shen Qingyang’s flesh rapidly desiccated, taking on the yellowed, leathery hue of a mummy.

Bright blue blood coughed from Shen Qingyang’s lips, yet a grotesque smile spread across his face. “Next time. Lu Yan… is mine.”

The Prevention Center’s accommodations were a converted holiday hotel.

Below the building lay a swimming pool.

Shen Qingyang’s body hit the water and dissolved into it, as if he were water himself.

A small, dark fish darted into the drainage outlet.

Tang Xian’an’s blade descended toward the drain. Spiderweb cracks split the pool’s floor, the ground trembling. Dragon’s breath erupted from him. The entire pool’s worth of water vaporized in an instant, leaving not even a trace of mist behind.

But the fish was already gone, moving too fast.

Tang Xian’an pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression dark.

He activated his earpiece, connecting to headquarters. “October 17th, 08:13. Sighting of the Black Octopus in the vicinity of Fengji Island.”

*

When the fight broke out in the hallway and Shen Qingyang smashed through the wall to jump, the wifi in Lu Yan’s room cut out.

Unfortunately, his webpage refreshed, turning into a 404 error.

[Probably damaged the fiber optic line,] the system’s voice sounded distinctly amused.

With no internet, Lu Yan paused his work. He walked to the window and looked down, his gaze catching the exact moment Shen Qingyang transformed into a fish and escaped.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

Shouts of alarm rose from outside. Staff swarmed the area like ants.

The system tsked. [Shen Qingyang can’t go back. You know rabies, right? The virus attacks the central nervous system. Once symptoms show, mortality is one hundred percent. The Pollution Disease is the same. His mind has undergone permanent, irreversible changes. Even a perfect evolution carrier isn’t exempt.]

[The affected often don’t realize it themselves. In fact, Awakened are also Pollution Disease patients. They just haven’t progressed to the terminal stage.]

Lu Yan withdrew his gaze. A few minutes later, a knock sounded at his door.

He opened it and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Tang Xian’an instinctively straightened his tie, which was stained with a speck of blue blood. He entered, his tone strictly professional. “Lu Yan. Surveillance shows the Black Octopus infiltrated your room disguised as staff.”

“Headquarters records indicate he was once your patient. There is a vast cognitive gap between pollutants and humans. Even if fragments of human emotion persist under special circumstances, the Special Operations Department’s standing order remains shoot on sight.”

His implication was clear: Shen Qingyang was not to be trusted, and Lu Yan shouldn’t be swayed by a pollutant.

The records showed no special relationship between the two.

Yet Shen Qingyang’s words had grated on Tang Xian’an, sounding like a declaration of certain victory. They stirred a restless, hard-to-control anger.

The anger made him want to coil his tail tightly around Lu Yan, to lick every inch of him with his barbed tongue, marking him with his scent.

Lu Yan took two paper cups and poured coconut milk from the fridge. “I know.”

His tone was its usual flat calm. He sat on the sofa opposite Tang Xian’an and took a sip of the chilled drink.

Tang Xian’an looked into those silver eyes and finally asked what he truly wanted to know. “What did Shen Qingyang do here?”

Questioning contact with pollutants was technically the job of the Center’s staff. Asking Lu Yan directly was overstepping.

“He delivered a letter,” Lu Yan said. “It’s on the table.”

[49°51′S, 128°34′W]

Lu Yan had cross-referenced the coordinates on a world map. The location was in the ocean, within the Roaring Forties—the “Devil’s West Wind Belt”—known for its monstrous waves.

Countless ships had foundered there during the Age of Sail.

Tang Xian’an opened the envelope. His handsome brows lifted. “Headquarters has no record of this place, but I remember it.”

“In the early days of the outbreak, many witnessed supernatural phenomena. Atheists became believers.”

“That social environment was fertile ground for cults. The Deep Sea Society in the West, the Bliss Cult in the East… they all sprouted from that soil.”

“The Western Prevention Centers once joined forces with the Hunter’s Guild and the Old Covenant Alliance to raid the Deep Sea Society’s headquarters. In the cult leader’s office, they found a faded, yellowing black navigation chart.”

“The chart’s destination wasn’t marked with coordinates, but scaling it proportionally placed it right at 49°51′ South, 128°34′ West… Headquarters dispatched a fleet to investigate. They found nothing but seawater. They maintained a watch for two years.”

Tang Xian’an took out his phone. “I have the clearance to pull up that chart. I’ll show you.”

The system murmured, [One of the few useful moments for the puppy-dragon. The old man’s worked for over eighty years. He’d better have some clearance.]

[This place is called Laleye.]

[I want to tell you everything I know, but I’m afraid you’ll turn into an idiot. Who understands this feeling of being forced to hold back?]

Tang Xian’an called up the image and handed his phone to Lu Yan.

The chart was a scanned copy. The script was strange, yet somehow familiar.

Lu Yan thought for a moment, then realized why.

When Lu Cheng was young, he loved writing his diary in that same bizarre script.

A young Lu Yan had been convinced it contained evidence of his mother’s murder. He’d sneaked peeks several times. No matter how careful he was, he was always caught. A few broken bones later, he’d learned to stop. Best not to dwell on that.

On the map, both land and sea were scribbled over with cartoonish monsters. At the very center was a massive banyan tree, its roots seeming to spread across the entire continent. Next to it, a bird wreathed in flames took flight.

Over the First District, a black dragon lay coiled upon the land. In the distance, an eight-headed serpent reared. The Third District was replaced by avian wings—three pairs of angelic pinions densely covered in staring eyes.

Lu Yan’s gaze shifted to Changjia Island. A drawing of a brain occupied the spot.

……

……

Every inch of land on this navigation chart was adorned with monsters. The overall tone was pitch black, save for one spot—a crimson dot as vivid as fresh blood.

This mark was in the ocean, circled by hand. Beside it, a single English word was written: Destination.

Lu Yan studied it with intense focus, committing every detail to memory before handing the phone back.

He asked the system, “What is Laleye?”

After a long pause, the system answered hesitantly, [The sunken city. The place of ruin.]

“Is it dangerous?”

[By your human classifications, an S-Class polluted zone.]

Research suggested the seabed’s pollution mutations began at least three centuries earlier than those on land.

But now, the land’s Pollution Disease was already more than anyone could handle. Naturally, little energy was spared for the ocean. After all, people didn’t live in the sea.

“Should I go?” Lu Yan continued.

The “abyss” mentioned in Shen Qingyang’s letter didn’t sound like a pleasant destination.

[You’ll go there one day,] the system said. [I hope by then I’ll see your spiritual power threshold break ten thousand.]

After the Divine Kingdom operation, Lu Yan’s spiritual power had grown again. His current threshold was 8,100, with a lesion rate of 40.6%.

Remembering this, Lu Yan rummaged in his bedside drawer and pulled out a bag of shelled walnuts. He placed them on the table before Tang Xian’an. “Eat.”

Tang Xian’an stared. “…What is this?”

Though he was puzzled, Tang Xian’an obeyed. With polite restraint, he took one, crunched it, and swallowed. The walnut was surprisingly fragrant.

“A local specialty from Changjia Island,” Lu Yan said. A thought suddenly struck him. “Speaking of which, you’ve worked a long time. You must be good at writing reports.”

Tang Xian’an nodded. “I’ve written quite a few.”

Mostly because writing mission reports was… stress-relieving.

Like how Lu Yan enjoyed cleaning his room.

Lu Yan handed over Ning Huai’s supporting documents and the mission report draft. “Help me write it?”

Tang Xian’an was silent for a moment. “…Alright.”