Remnants

When Chen Chuan stepped into the room, sunlight streamed in from outside, illuminating part of the interior while casting his shadow across the floor. He glanced around. Aside from an extra layer of dust, the furnishings were no different from when he had left a year ago, proving no one had come here since his departure. Perhaps because of the materials used to build the house or for some other reason, not a single bug was in sight. Back then, his predecessor had already taken away whatever was of major value bit by bit, leaving behind only general furniture. As he walked slowly through the rooms, his predecessor's memories surfaced right on cue—vivid and clear, flickering before his eyes like scenes from an old film bathed in warm tones. Those were scenes of living here in childhood, along with fragments of memories concerning his predecessor's parents. That period was the happiest and most carefree time of the boy's life. Yet that had all been before the age of five. In the memories after that, his predecessor's impressions of his parents began to fade. It seemed the two had gone off to do something, returning less and less frequently. Instead, Aunt Yu Wan appeared in his life from time to time, occasionally accompanied by the booming voice of Nian Fuli. Until the year he turned six, his parents never returned. After that, Nian Fuli and Yu Wan took him into their home to live. Once his predecessor grew a bit older, though, he would always come back every so often to stay for a few days, as if reminiscing about the past, or perhaps waiting and hoping for something. At this moment, Chen Chuan could understand this feeling deeply. He took a breath and walked slowly into the bedroom that had belonged to him. He first went forward and drew back the curtains, letting more light in, then walked over to the edge of the bed. Reaching down, he lifted a board underneath and dragged out a small chest. After a moment's thought, he stood up and walked over to the bedside table. Pulling out the entire drawer, he retrieved a key from behind the lower baffle, then turned back and unlocked the chest. There was nothing particularly valuable inside—just some old books, expense ledgers, and similar items left behind by his predecessor's parents, interleaved with old newspapers. However, many of the newspapers and notebooks had been deliberately cut to pieces and filed together there. His predecessor had not known why these things were kept, but had vaguely sensed they might be of some use, and since they were not in the way, he had never bothered to throw them out. Now, Chen Chuan realized his predecessor's parents might have left behind some clues, deliberately shredding them and storing them separately for fear of discovery. Taking the contents out, he spread them across the tabletop, then brought over the materials Old Lady Ni had given him. Comparing the two, he soon found matching sections, just as he had expected. Patiently, he pieced them together bit by bit and noticed numbers marked beneath some of the assembled characters, so he arranged them in sequence. Once everything was assembled, he discovered it was an address, followed by a string of numbers. Because it was written very clearly, he could be certain it was an address in Center City, though what the string of numbers meant remained a mystery for now. He pondered for a moment, his thoughts naturally drifting to the black card. When he had asked Gao Ming to check it, he learned the card had been invalidated ten years ago—which coincided roughly with the time right before his aunt took him in. Could what his predecessor's parents left behind have some connection to the black card? Aside from that, he harbored another major doubt. Taking the Wuyi exam had been an idea born only after his arrival; it was a choice he had made. He was certain that while his predecessor had been curious about Wuyi and greatly admired fighters, the boy had never intended to take the exam. His predecessor's greatest interest had been to leave Yangzhi and become an explorer traveling far and wide, eager to see whether places in the world were truly as miraculous as the movies claimed. Yet when Old Lady Ni gave him that material, her words had unmistakably implied his predecessor's mother was certain he would test for Wuyi. Testing for Wuyi usually meant having practiced combat from childhood. He believed his predecessor's mother, as a fighter, would not have overlooked this aspect, yet his predecessor had never encountered training of that sort, nor had anyone ever mentioned it to him. Then had something gone wrong along the way? Could his predecessor's death be connected to this? Thinking it over, he felt there were simply too few clues to guess anything definite right now. Glancing at the address before him, he knew he would likely have to go to Center City and find the place in person to investigate further. After committing the address and numbers to memory, he scrambled the pieces once more, packed part of them back into the chest, locked it, and returned it to its original spot. He looked out at the bright sunlight. Since he was already here, he might as well clean up. He retrieved some tools and tidied the house inside and out. In the basement, he unexpectedly turned up a sealed tin of tea leaves—presumably left behind by his predecessor's father—which he had never noticed before. There was also an algae oil generator in the basement to ensure electricity at night. He checked it and found it still functional, so he started it up, boiled a kettle of water, brewed a cup of tea, brought a chair outside, and sat on the veranda, looking out at the woods and the stream. The autumn scenery was dappled with flecks of gold and red. Warm sunlight filtered down, casting the shadows of branches onto the eaves, where they swayed gently as a few fallen leaves drifted down in slow spirals. His predecessor's childhood memories were intimately familiar with this place. Back then, he had often played by the stream with Meng Shu. Later, at school, they were classmates in the same grade. Perhaps for that very reason, Meng Shu had looked upon his predecessor differently; after all, they had spent the finest days of childhood together. Speaking of which, he might very well run into her when he went to Center City. Once he finished the pot of tea, he rose, went back inside to tidy up, locked the door, stepped down the wooden steps, and got back on his bicycle. Looking back, he took in the surrounding scenery one last time before pushing down on the pedals and riding away. The return trip was uneventful. An hour later, he was back on campus. Returning to his dormitory, he cast these old memories to the back of his mind. Whatever they were, what lay before him now was a far vaster future. In the days that followed, he began using the medicinal ingredients obtained from the action team to assist his combat training. These medicines were far superior to anything he had used before. A very small dosage produced significant results, and judging from the degree of blurring in his Second Self, the erosion had hardly increased, which was no small feat. They truly lived up to Old Feng's description of being exclusive to government circles. He calculated the quantity. Barring any unexpected increase in consumption, they would last him over a hundred days, which might well sustain him all the way until he departed for Center City. Each day after his training concluded, he used the intervals during his evening routine of basic breathing technique practice to study materials. Lately, he focused primarily on the volume concerning esoteric rituals. He found himself engrossed even in the driest sections, tracing the dauntingly complex diagrams stroke by stroke as if discovering a unique pleasure in them. He paid special attention to esoteric rituals designed to bind urban legends. If he took on urban legend commissions, he was very likely to encounter them, and he also considered that when resolving such legends, esoteric methods might serve as useful support. With each day passing so productively, by mid-October, Bureau Director Lei called him on the phone. "Student Chen, we have confirmed the person's identity." Chen Chuan's heart stirred. He knew at once this referred to the individual who had used an esoteric ritual to absorb vital life essence. Through the receiver, Bureau Director Lei's voice continued: "This man is named Han Chang, a veteran of the Blood Mark Gang. Gang members like to call him 'Uncle Han.' Through our pursuit over the past few days, we've also tracked down his whereabouts. Once the Blood Mark Gang ran into trouble, he took a group of men and hid in a town outside the city, where he remains entrenched. "He should still have people from the Cult of Life with him. The Esoteric Cult Examination Bureau now needs someone to resolve this and handle those cultists. Student Chen, you have experience going outside the city to handle cultists and armed groups. "Therefore, on behalf of the Esoteric Cult Examination Bureau, I ask: are you willing to accept a commission from the bureau to eliminate these cultists and their affiliates?" Chen Chuan answered without hesitation, "No problem, Bureau Director Lei. I am willing to take this commission." He was now a second-year student and could accept commissions in his own name. As for the formal procedures, he could also entrust them to Gao Ming, but he felt there was no need for that just yet. Ren Shu's company had provided him with a great deal of convenience, and he ought to give something back; taking commissions from official government bodies would enhance the company's reputation and standing. So he subsequently asked Bureau Director Lei to route the commission through the company, allowing him to accept it under the company's name. Bureau Director Lei had no objections. As long as Chen Chuan was the one taking the commission, the name under which it was accepted did not matter. He said, "I'll have someone send the dossier over shortly. Just deal with it when you have time." Chen Chuan agreed. Coming from official channels, the dossier arrived at the school via dedicated courier less than half an hour after he hung up the phone. After signing for it, he returned to his room, opened it, and read through it carefully. This "Uncle Han" had very sharp instincts and decisive execution. The moment the upper echelon of the Blood Mark Gang came under fire, he sensed something was amiss and pulled a group of men out of the city, intending to wait and see how things developed. What followed required little explanation. Over this period, with the fall of Molan Company, the remnants of the Blood Mark Gang inside the city were thoroughly purged. Yet because this group had fled outside early on and was not a primary target for the various factions, no one had bothered with them for the time being. Now, however, the situation was different. Because Uncle Han was demonstrably tied to cultists, the Esoteric Cult Bureau, having tracked him down to this point, certainly had no intention of letting him go. Chen Chuan looked at the man's hideout, his heart stirring slightly. The location was somewhat familiar—not far away was Caijia Stockade, the very place he had visited during the hunt for Fang Dawei's gang.