After squatting in this godforsaken place for half a month, all the artisan could say was that the vehicle inspection process for the Modified Division was the most ridiculous damn thing imaginable!
During the previous team's inspection, the moment they popped the hood, the inside was an absolute bloody mess of flesh and gore.
They weren't even bothering to pretend anymore!
Thick, squirming blood vessels wrapped around a bone-like chassis, with a massive heart pulsing and throbbing in the center. An eerie green eye grew out of that engine-shaped heart, staring outward, covered in bloodshot veins, blinking incessantly.
Inspecting this stuff was genuinely taking years off his life.
And yet when questioned, the guys on the other end had the nerve to argue plausibly, pulling out a stack of patent reports and R&D logs: "We've adopted the latest eco-friendly biotechnology!"
Come on, buddy, this is a rally! What the f*** kind of eco-friendly crap are you pulling here?!
If that isn't calamity beast restructuring, taboo re-engineering, and boundary-skirting bio-alchemy, I'll slice your car wheels up and eat them with soy sauce!
But even if there were issues, what could he do?
Compared to those colossal behemoths, the rally organizing committee was just a nobody making a bit of sponsorship cash, and the artisan was merely a hired hand sent by the association to earn a wage.
If you say so, then so be it. Whatever you say goes.
Anyway, as long as they didn't mount two cannons on the roof and claim, "This is our cutting-edge kinetic propulsion technology," and as long as they put on a modest act and made an effort to play along, good enough was good enough.
"Let's call you compliant."
The scruffy artisan signed off carelessly. Then, after tapping a few keys on a specialized computer, he unplugged a plastic box resembling a highway transponder from the cable at the other end.
"Take this back and mount it on your car yourself. Remember, do not disassemble it. If you open it, your results are void. Same if it's damaged."
Before the artisan could even finish, Ji Jue took it and right in front of him began probing its interior with material property interference.
It was a bit impolite, but... he couldn't very well slap just anything onto his vehicle, could he?
A positioning device capable of transmitting and receiving signals.
However, there was an enclosed inner structure sealed with a spiritus lock and an alloy seal of tin and lead. The internal spiritus circuits shifted, providing a specific verification protocol.
Inside that sealed structure, it appeared to possess receiver capabilities, though strictly receive-only, unable to transmit.
"GPS?" Ji Jue asked.
"Yeah."
The artisan gave a numb sigh and bluntly explained, "Besides linking to satellites to confirm positions for rescue operations, there are at least one hundred and seventy checkpoints along the route. It receives and logs authentication keys from each checkpoint, which will be inspected individually at every service park. Once you reach the finish line, if the internal log contains fewer than one hundred and sixty keys, your result is nullified. The full details are in the rulebook. If you've got problems with it, go take it up with the organizing committee."
As he spoke, he handed over a thick rulebook along with it.
Taking it, Ji Jue flipped through it casually on the way back.
All he could say was... it seemed to cover everything, yet simultaneously said nothing at all.
The general framework was comparable to standard rallies, but the ambiguities in the details were far too numerous, hopelessly vague.
Hardly more useful than a roll of toilet paper.
"Brother Ji Jue, someone is watching us," said An Ning beside him.
"Normal."
Ji Jue didn't bother looking up, flipping through the rules with a rustle, skimming ten lines at a glance. "From the moment we entered this race, we became a walking bullseye."
An Ning's eyes swept through the blowing snow, nonchalantly taking in faces in the light and shadows, discerning their auras. "Someone wants to kill you."
"Normal."
Ji Jue remained calm, closed the book, and told her:
"Because I feel the same way."
There was no need for surprise, nor any cause for wonder.
Wasn't this precisely why everyone had come?
Beneath a competition cloaked in the mantle of civilization and glory, along the five-thousand-kilometer road through a wild and brutal wasteland, what was left... if not a life-and-death struggle?
Everyone was the same; there was no noble or base.
Strip away the high-sounding excuses, and what remained was nothing more than pure grudges and vengeance—nothing else!
Amidst the wind and snow blowing into his face, Ji Jue smiled silently.
"That's exactly why I love competition."
An Ning tilted her head, gazing at him, watching the caged monster break free of its shackles. After a long moment, she smiled as well.
Humming a tune, she followed behind him, stepping directly into the footprints he left behind.
Full of joy, trailing his every step.
Disappearing into the wind and snow.
***
"This is the one?"
Under a solitary lamp, a tattoo-covered hand picked up the dossier tossed on the table, opened it, and stared at Ji Jue's face and profile in the photo, letting out a soft laugh.
"An artisan? Worth going to all this trouble?"
"More than just an artisan, but yes, an artisan nonetheless," the broker said around a cigarette. "The employer's requirement: clean and fast. Under no circumstances are they allowed to reach the finish line alive."
"And the money?"
"Thirty percent down, already equal to the full bounty on a Regeneration-tier target. The remaining balance is in escrow—once the head is delivered, payment settles, plus an extra bonus of equal amount afterward."
The broker slowly slid a bank card across, but as the man opposite reached for it, the broker abruptly clamped his hand down on it.
"What's the meaning of this?"
In the darkness beyond the lamplight, ferocity surfaced on the face patterned with constellation tattoos.
"Keep your head on straight. This is an open bounty. You're not the only one who took it."
The broker warned, "From north to south along this line, nearly everyone has been mobilized. You aren't the only designated taker. The boss just told me that people from the Hunters have stepped in as well."
"Isn't that even better?"
The man chuckled, growing even more amused as the tattoos on his face cast a faint glow. "Dog eats dog, wolf eats wolf. The taste of a hunter is the most satisfying aftertaste of all, isn't it?"
From that ravenous smile, a thick, foul reek of blood and decay silently spread outwards.
Beneath the lamp, the beast's eyes shone emerald green.
Already ravenous beyond restraint.
Not just here. From the swirling blizzards of Huangzhou to the boundless sands beneath nightfall, beneath solitary lamps or scorching suns, dossiers and photos were distributed through hidden currents.
And countless black specks converged like a dense swarm of army ants.
***
That night, deep into the darkness, sirens suddenly wailed across Heihe City.
Level 3 Disaster Alarm.
According to satellite surveillance, the weather was shifting. A strong cold air current was forecast to roll in from the eastern sea within three to five days, bringing a fresh wave of snowfall and extreme cold.
Cities across Huangzhou would implement emergency disaster measures.
Two hours later, after urgent deliberations by the Desert Sea Rally organizing committee, a conclusion was reached: the weather change would not impact the rally schedule or race arrangements. The competition would proceed.
The joint postponement petition submitted by six teams was rejected.
Although weather conditions would affect live broadcasts, in consideration of public demand and the insistence of the majority of teams, the rally would start on schedule.
At the same time, the organizing committee approved and finalized requests from seven teams—including Xueshan, Xinyuan, Bailong, Dihu, and Echo—to swap drivers and navigators at the last minute.
Farther away, in the Mo Sea beyond the snowfields, a storm surged at breakneck speed.
A storm tens of thousands of miles away caused a butterfly in Yacheng to tumble from its branch, spinning wildly until it plunged into stagnant water, struggling amidst flies, mosquitoes, and praying mantises.
"It's a mess."
Tong Ting frowned, pulling back his fishing rod. Gazing at the empty, straight hook, he took a subtle whiff of the moisture and rot clinging to it, his expression darkening:
"Everything is a mess."
"Normal."
In the rocking chair beneath the shade of the trees, the old man cradling a clay teapot didn't bother lifting his gaze. "Better not to read dead books at all; better not to listen to lewd sounds. Something like this should have been expected long ago."
He said, "You are still too shallow."
To target the Path of Aether, one had to muddy the waters of events first; only in turbid waters could one fish effectively.
Otherwise, no matter how elaborate a locked-room murder mystery was set up, if the killer's name was already circled in bold red ink on page one, where was the room for deduction and suspense?
Right now, they had merely torn out a few pages; at least the first half of the book was still intact, not yet shoved into a shredder and ground to confetti.
Precisely because it was Aether, it had to be knocked down from omniscience.
Precisely because they feared the Tong family's mastery of Aether, they went to such extravagant lengths. Who knew how many Mirror-lineage Celestial Chosen had been mobilized in the background to fabricate illusions and noise, muddying observation and events?
And who knew how many peers lay hidden beneath the churned waters, casting an inescapable dragnet?
Like a boundless mist suddenly rolling in, everything that had once been vividly clear and distinct was transformed into flowers in a mirror, the moon reflected on water—no longer discernible.
"If you can't see clearly, so what?"
The old man stroked the coarse purple clay teapot with his fingers, speaking in an unhurried drawl: "When it comes to a plot, knowing everything takes the beauty out of it. Sometimes, following along and guessing is half the fun."
"No wonder people call Aether folks riddlers," Tong Ting sighed helplessly. "Even I get irritated hearing it. Can't you speak a little more plainly to me?"
"No."
The aged Celestial-Human gave a mocking sneer. "Others can, but you cannot. You must 'listen'—otherwise, why is the Tong family's title 'Heavenly Hearing' and not 'Heavenly Eye'?"
He raised his eyes and glanced at his successor. "Why aren't you named Tong Guan?"
Tong Ting fell silent.
*Initial Six: Boyish viewing. For an inferior man, no blame; for a gentleman, distress.*
The general meaning was roughly that a gentleman perceives his true nature, while an inferior man is benighted and unable to introspect. Here, "boyish viewing" meant seeing like a child—shallow, naive, confined to a single corner, unable to see the whole picture.
The name Tong Guan was, in fact, derogatory.
As for the difference between Heavenly Hearing and Heavenly Eye...
"Generally speaking, Heavenly Hearing is always considered inferior to Heavenly Eye. Along the Path of Aether, the Tong family is an upstart lacking deep heritage, forever held a notch below the Qiu family of Midtown. Over time, everyone has come to feel that way—"
The contemporary Heavenly Hearing scoffed at this point: "Yet do you think that blind old crone of the Qiu family would dare say that to my face?"
The Path of Aether took no pride in prominence or martial force; its gaze was fixed on long-term survival and prosperity. Thus, its adherents never stepped to the fore, abiding behind the scenes, generally benevolent to others, rarely making enemies, turning swords into plowshares.
Taking pride in foresight and prophecy, those adept at battle naturally had no illustrious deeds to boast of.
Viewed from this angle, the Qiu family—who claimed the All-Illuminating Heavenly Eye—was naturally a cut above Heavenly Hearing.
Eyes and ears had their distinction in rank; listening with the ears was inherently less intuitive and clear than seeing with the eyes.
Yet precisely because of that, everyone habitually focused on and relied upon the very pair of organs easiest to deceive: the eyes.
And because of that, they forgot that when the storm strikes, amidst chaos thick with killing intent, in the pitch black where only life and death matter—ears are far more useful than eyes!
*The deaf see well; the blind hear well.*
The essence of the Path of Heavenly Hearing lay in placing pieces in the shadows and seizing the upper hand amidst turmoil!
Or to put it more simply: peers killing peers!
"It's just walking a night road in the dark. Others have already set the stage for you, and you have an old coot like me backing you up," the old man sneered. "What are you still hesitating for?"
Tong Ting remained silent for a moment, then sighed softly. "I truly have no confidence."
"No confidence? Having no confidence is precisely right."
The old man looked down disdainfully at the viscous darkness rolling in from the distance into the night. Yet beneath the gaze of those eyes, the boundless dark seemed to boil, roiling and surging violently.
Like an invisible hand brutally upending everything, stirring the stagnant water and raising a bloom of mud, scattered events and countless threads of clues snarled together into a tangled knot that no one could untie.
And so, even the last glimmer of starlight was swallowed by the storm clouds.
Tens of thousands of miles fell utterly silent.
Only the forlorn chirping of insects rose into the air.
"Now, nobody has any confidence."
In the dark came a mocking, soft sigh: "Dark night, high winds, hitched wagons and restrained horses on a perilous trail... On a dead-end road, what does it matter if a few more unfortunates tumble off the cliff?"
Chapter 353