The moon shimmered amid a sparse canopy of stars.
The bell ending evening study tolled, and students spilled from their classrooms in small knots, laughing as they stepped into the night. After a day's ordeal, this perhaps was their purest respite.
No homework, no teachers—merely a few close friends at one's side; a hot shower at home and then the bliss of slipping beneath the covers—could anything be more sublime?
Yet from the scattered crowd a column of more than a dozen strode out, disciplined and sure, making straight for the school gate.
At their centre, a youth with eyes swathed in black silk was bundled tight, like the filling in a dumpling.
Such a formidable escort drew every surrounding gaze.
"Honestly…I can walk home alone," Lin Qiye muttered, lips twitching with resignation. "I can see, just not in bright light…."
"Say no more, Lin Qiye!" Jiang Qian cut him short, voice righteous and firm. "We promised your aunt we'd look after you, and we shall!"
"Exactly, Qiye—our houses lie the same way; it's on our route."
"Mine too."
Lin Qiye: …
Truth be told, he would rather be the one ignored. After so long in darkness, this flood of concern sat awkwardly upon him.
Auntie and Yang Jin, of course, were different—they were family.
Still, kindness could not be spurned; he let the group shepherd him forward.
"At the next corner I turn right, but I'll accompany you a little farther."
"I branch off here—see you tomorrow."
"Until tomorrow."
…
The farther they drew from the school, the more companions peeled away. Within minutes only five remained.
The former bustle faded, space opened round them, and Lin Qiye exhaled a long breath.
"Do you think…the Mist will truly reawaken and swallow Great Xia?" Li Yifei asked, hitching his bag higher and glancing back.
"Didn't those experts say the chance is minuscule? Perhaps a century will pass without a ripple—and by then we'll be dust, so why fret?" Jiang Qian rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please—experts are the least reliable. Suppose we finally get into university, barely taste life, and the Mist devours the land—wouldn't that be a cosmic loss?"
"So that's why you idle instead of studying?" Jiang Qian stepped before him, face solemn. "Remember, Mr Wang warned that if you're last again, your desk moves to the lectern."
"All right, all right," Li Yifei replied with a sheepish grin.
"Still, I doubt the Mist will rise anew," Wang Shao, leading the group, said. "After all, it is merely a natural phenomenon. Once it reaches its limit, it recedes—like the Ice Age: glaciers veiled the earth, then thawed with rising warmth, ushering in a new era."
"That's the Natural Disaster Hypothesis, right? It's gaining traction," Jiang Qian nodded.
"But what if…the Mist is not a natural phenomenon?" Lin Qiye, silent till now, spoke at last.
Wang Shao blinked, then laughed. "Qiye, surely you don't swallow those theologians who claim the Mist is wrought by supernatural power?"
"It's the twenty-first century—we trust science," another classmate, Liu Yuan, chimed in. "There aren't that many phantoms in the world."
Lin Qiye held his peace. Whether forces beyond science existed, he knew better than any—but such matters were not for outsiders.
Li Yifei murmured, "If they did exist, the world would be far more interesting."
"What good is all this talk?" Jiang Qian laughed. "Instead of brooding over the Mist, better to sleep late during the three-day Survival Festival."
"Exactly—holidays are the only reality!"
…
Old Town, Cangnan.
A man shouldered a warning sign and sauntered unhurried along the deserted street. Wan lamplight stretched his shadow thin.
Glancing at his phone, he halted at a narrow alley.
"This is the place…"
He muttered, set the sign upright, and squared it.
Under the flickering lamp the sign's shadow flickered too, and upon its black ground blazed four scarlet characters:
— ROAD CLOSED AHEAD —
Leaning against the pole, the man lit a cigarette, drew deep, then thumbed his earpiece.
"Captain, the third marker is in position."
"Received. Commence."
"Roger."
Cigarette between his lips, he stepped before the sign, pressed his thumb to a canine tooth, and bit.
A bead of blood welled. Crouching, he dragged that blood-smeared thumb across the words ROAD CLOSED AHEAD.
His eyes sharpened; an uncanny aura flared outward.
He lifted his gaze to the night and murmured, barely audible,
"Forbidden Ruins—Domain of Unbound Silence."
At once the blood faded as if drunk; the characters flamed crimson, then dulled.
The man collapsed onto the pavement, exhaling wearily.
"Damn—drained me dry again…"
From the sky just then, one might have seen three points of light ignite about Old Town, tracing at speed a dark-red equilateral triangle.
The instant it closed, half the district beneath seemed erased from the map, fading from sight—
Yet at street level, Old Town appeared unchanged.
Simultaneously, at the triangle's heart, six black-and-crimson cloaks slashed across the heavens like lightning.
Their leader raised his eyes to the blood-dark firmament, gripped the hilt on his back, and narrowed his gaze.
"Operation Ghost-Mask Purge—commence."