After resting in the stone chamber for several days, Xiao?Chuan—still unaccustomed to his newly reconstructed body—could not join the next journey.
He simply said he wished to remain and guard the chamber.
When everyone was ready, they gathered before the Ancient Book.
The pages flipped open, revealing the next destination: “Hong Kong.”
The moment the fragment and the enemy signature appeared, the book released a burst of light.
Xiao?Chuan waved at them as the glow swallowed the group.
The dizziness of teleportation had not fully faded when—
A wave of humid, heavy air rushed into their lungs.
Unlike the dry metallic steam of the Gearworld,
this air carried the brine of sea wind, the oily smoke of street food stalls, the mold of old buildings,
and something else—an indescribable chill, like emotions soaked into the walls over decades.
They steadied themselves and found they were standing in a narrow alley.
The stone pavement beneath their feet was slightly slick.
Old tenement buildings crowded both sides, their signboards jutting out like layered ribs.
Strangely, the entire row of tong lau on their side—along with several adjacent buildings—had every window pitch?black.
Silent.
Abandoned.
As if cut off from the bustling world just meters away.
Because across a street barely ten meters wide—
Neon lights blazed.
Voices surged.
A cha chaan teng glowed warmly.
A convenience store’s 24?hour sign buzzed.
Night?goers laughed as cars rolled past.
A vibrant night scene—
separated from them by an invisible veil.
Stillness and noise.
Dark and bright.
The contrast was so sharp it bordered on uncanny.
This imbalance was not natural.
They stood before an old tong lau.
Its exterior walls were mottled with moss and water stains.
On the rooftop, an old neon sign flickered weakly.
It once held five characters, but now only two tubes still sputtered with intermittent light.
The other three were dead, swallowed by the dark.
“Detective… Agency?” Lin Che adjusted his glasses, using the glow from across the street to decipher the sign.
“I’m starving! I’m finding food!” Windbeak complained, and before anyone could stop him,
he shot toward the bright street—
a streak of metal and faint buzz?pop—
vanishing into the jungle of neon.
“That creature…” Ye Lingyun frowned, still unaccustomed to Windbeak’s impulsiveness.
He glanced at Mo?Dou.
Unexpectedly, Mo?Dou—who usually wandered off to scout after teleportation—did not leave this time.
Instead, he leapt lightly and landed on Lin Che’s shoulder—
a place he rarely chose.
His golden eyes gleamed in the dimness.
He gave Lin Che a soft “mrrp,”
his tail brushing lightly against the doctor’s neck.
Ye Lingyun’s expression didn’t change,
but the corner of his mouth twitched—
a subtle mix of being ignored by a cat and having a companion stolen.
Lin Che blinked, then felt something cool and strange spreading from where Mo?Dou touched him—
like ripples of perception flowing through his limbs.
Not control.
More like… a temporary sharing of senses.
The world sharpened.
The faint “coldness” in the air gained shape—
thin, drifting contours.
He immediately understood:
Mo?Dou was warning him.
Sunri surveyed the surroundings, his gaze returning to the silent tong lau.
“I think this is our destination,” he said calmly, with certainty.
The pendant against his chest pulsed gently,
as if resonating faintly with the dark building.
The entrance was a pair of rusted metal gates, paint peeling, half?ajar.
Inside was a cramped, dim lobby,
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lit only by a dusty energy?saving bulb casting a sickly white glow.
A narrow, steep staircase led upward into the unknown.
The air smelled of dust, old paper, and mold.
“The detective agency should be on the third floor?” Lin Che guessed from the sign.
“Let’s go.” Sunri took the lead.
Pardy clung to him, face tense but more curious than afraid.
Ye Lingyun followed, hand on his sword.
Lin Che—Mo?Dou perched on his shoulder—brought up the rear.
The stairwell was extremely dark.
Only tiny vents at each landing let in faint neon reflections from the street,
casting wavering, water?like colors on the walls.
As Sunri stepped onto the landing between the first and second floors, he suddenly stopped.
The air turned cold.
Not the damp chill of the alley—
but a softer, intimate coldness,
like someone exhaling gently beside his ear.
Brother…
A voice—thin as a thread, trembling, timid—
slipped directly into his consciousness.
Sunri did not panic.
He gestured for Pardy to stay with Ye Lingyun and signaled them to continue upward.
Then he stepped quietly toward the other staircase.
He saw her the way one sees a lost child.
In the shadow of the landing, a faint figure took shape—
like condensed mist, like a fading streak of light.
A young girl in a simple school uniform.
Her face blurred, but delicate.
Her expression weighed down by exhaustion and confusion so deep it seemed to crush her translucent form.
She didn’t approach.
She only lifted a trembling, half?transparent hand—
pointing at herself,
then at the darkness above.
“You… can hear me…?”
Her voice quivered, dissolving like smoke.
“I… I’m not trying to scare anyone… I just… can’t find the way out…”
She sensed something in Sunri—
something that soothed her.
Sunri looked at her quietly.
No fear.
Only deep, empathetic sorrow.
He nodded gently and stepped closer, shortening the invisible distance.
He extended his hand, palm up—
a gesture natural and comforting,
as if calming a frightened child.
“I’ll help you,” he said softly, voice steady and warm.
“I’ll take you out.”
Her form flickered.
Her misty eyes brightened—
the fragile light of someone finally seen after endless darkness.
She drifted closer, hesitantly reaching toward his hand—
Then—
A muffled cry from upstairs.
A crash.
Chaos.
Sunri said gently, “Wait for me, alright? My companions seem to need help. I promise—I’ll come back for you.”
The girl nodded obediently, retreating into the shadows but not disappearing—
waiting.
Sunri hurried to the third floor.
Ye Lingyun, Lin Che, and Mo?Dou had already pushed open a glass door labeled with faded characters:
“Secret Detective Agency.”
But the three stood frozen at the entrance—
Ye Lingyun pale,
Lin Che analytical,
Mo?Dou crouched on his shoulder, golden eyes alert.
“What happened?” Sunri asked.
“It’s… cold,” Ye Lingyun said stiffly, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Lin Che added, “Temperature dropped at least eight degrees. Not structurally normal. And—”
Before he finished,
a gust of icy wind surged from inside the agency.
It pierced clothing,
slipping straight into bone.
“Let’s go in.” Sunri stepped forward.
The interior was even messier than the lobby.
Stacks of folders, old newspapers, dusty desks, and strange instruments cluttered the room.
The windows were shut.
Curtains drawn.
Only a dim ceiling lamp flickered overhead.
The air smelled of dust, old books, and faint incense.
Ye Lingyun followed, muscles taut, eyes scanning every shadow.
Lin Che was already studying maps and notes on the walls.
Mo?Dou slipped to the floor, sniffing quietly.
“Owner seems absent,” Lin Che concluded.
Suddenly—
“Hey.”
A voice came from directly above Ye Lingyun’s head.
Ye Lingyun froze.
His neck creaked upward—
A pale, swollen male face hung upside?down from the ceiling,
inches from his nose.
Its unfocused eyes stared straight at him.
Its mouth opened and closed:
“…Can you see me…?”
“WAAAAH—!!!”
Ye Lingyun nearly dropped his sword.
His scream tore out as he sprang backward like a released spring.
He slammed into a filing cabinet—
bounced off—
tripped over a chair—
and crashed toward Lin Che in a flailing mess.
“Careful!” Lin Che tried to catch him, but Ye Lingyun’s panic nearly toppled them both.
The upside?down ghost seemed startled by his reaction.
It zipped back into the ceiling, leaving half its translucent body sticking out,
looking down with a bewildered, wronged expression.
“You— you—” Ye Lingyun stammered, pointing with a trembling finger.
“Why were you talking upside?down!!!”
