Sudden Change

After the man with the knife left, the silver-haired man leaned back against his seat, waiting for the matter to be resolved. This anomalous commission was most likely caused by that little brat. As long as the brat was eliminated, there would be no anomaly left. Most anomalies were like this anyway, especially in out-of-the-way places like this where hardly anyone had proper citizen status. Handling them was very simple. After waiting a short while, however, a gunshot sounded in the distance. The silver-haired man frowned and asked through his boundary credential: "Dachen, what's going on?" A voice immediately came through his ear: "There's a fighter inside. This guy has implants, and they have a gun. It's a bit troublesome." The silver-haired man cursed, "Goddamn shitholes always come with goddamn trouble." He looked back over his shoulder. "Andan, can you jam him?" In the back seat sat a somewhat languid, short-haired woman with purple eye makeup. The implants exposed along her neck extended onto her back and the back of her head, adorned with magnificent decorative patterns. Hearing this, she nodded and closed her eyes as if connecting to something. After a moment, she said, "Done. I've transmitted false sensory perceptions to the fighter's implants, and I severed his boundary credential field link." "Good." The silver-haired man said to Dachen, "Finish it quick." Then he had his boundary credential pull up his music collection and start playing. In an instant, a long wolf howl rang in his ear. This was his favorite track by the Sun Band—"Legend of the Wolf." Swaying to the music, he began to bob along: "Wild and surging like the ocean waves..." "Flamboyant and untamed like the blazing sun..." "Beneath the boundless sky, I am a running lone wolf..." He didn't have to wait long before Dachen returned from outside, his blade dripping with blood. The silver-haired man opened his eyes and glanced out the car window. "All taken care of?" Dachen nodded. "Let's go!" the silver-haired man said. Dachen sheathed his blade and climbed into the vehicle, and the off-road vehicle turned around and drove off. On their drive back, a light drizzle began to fall from the sky, and the weather grew somber and gloomy. The headlights of passing vehicles and neon signs reflected through the rain against the car windows, blurring into patches of colorful light. Chen Chuan asked, "Old Qi, do you know where they sell maps? A map of Center City." Old Qi thought about it. "About two kilometers from here, there's an old magazine shop that sells them." "Then please drop me off there," Chen Chuan said. "I might pick up a few other things while I'm at it. It's not far from the academy anyway. Once we're there, I'll walk back on my own, and you can head home early." Old Qi agreed. Three or four minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a shop and slowed to a stop along the curb. Chen Chuan said goodbye to Old Qi and got out. Before long, he found a narrow storefront about a dozen meters away, where he successfully bought a map. For someone like him who wore a mid-grade boundary credential, going anywhere was simply a matter of searching on the platform. But for many people, maps were a necessity. Lacking money, they could only scrounge second- or third-hand boundary credentials that only had call functions. Visiting unfamiliar places meant either locating a nearby boundary point to search or relying on physical maps. However, he had bought this to make it easier to search for the address left by the parents of his current body. He couldn't search for it using his boundary credential, as that would leave traces behind. Even if he located the spot, he had no intention of going there immediately; he planned to wait until some time had passed, since he couldn't be sure whether others were keeping an eye on the matter. With rain falling from the sky, he was in no hurry to rush back. Instead, he strolled along a street sheltered beneath a glass canopy. Bustling crowds passed by him, lightboxes flashed with vivid words and graphics, and a chilly, slightly damp breeze brushed against his cheeks from time to time. Farther off twinkled scattered points of light. He stopped at a tram stop. A sound came from behind him, and looking back, he saw colossal figures of a man and a woman projecting onto the wall of a building. Their bodies displayed advertisements for various implant models, with gentle, warm voices alternating between male and female as they described the convenient lifestyle that implants offered. Shortly after, the tram arrived at the station. Just as Chen Chuan was about to board the tram with the flow of passengers, Old Qi's contact icon began to pulse. He took a glance and answered, asking, "Old Qi, is something wrong?" Old Qi's voice sounded anxious on the other end: "Little Brother Chen, that Chong fellow—Tall Chong—he suddenly sent me a message just now, but it cut off halfway through. When I asked again, there was no reply. Did something happen?" Chen Chuan's eyes shifted slightly. He asked, "Old Qi, are you home yet?" "Not yet. Do you want to go back and check? All right, I'll come pick you up right away." "Is everything all right at your home?" "It's fine. I already let them know." "I'm by the tram station. I've sent you my location." Chen Chuan ended the call and thought about it. The urban legend had already been buried. As long as Xiaoman didn't dig it up with his own hands, there shouldn't have been any further problem. Unless... He hoped that wasn't the case. After waiting only a few minutes, Old Qi's car pulled up in front of him. Chen Chuan got in. Old Qi said, "I wonder what on earth happened with Tall Chong?" "We won't know until we get there," Chen Chuan said. In under half an hour, they were back at the shantytown. Looking out, however, the entire area was pitch-black, with only a few scattered spots showing any light. Once the car was parked, the two men walked inward. After only a few paces, they spotted someone lying collapsed on the road in the distance, their entire body twitching. Old Qi said in horror, "What's going on here?" Chen Chuan looked at his Second Self; signs of intense blurring had appeared. Old Qi's vision doubled, and he clutched his head. "Why do I feel so dizzy?" Chen Chuan grabbed hold of him. Looking inward with calm, dark eyes, he said, "Old Qi, don't go any farther. I'll go in alone and check." Surprised, Old Qi asked, "Is it that thing from earlier?" "It's the same one, but parts of it have changed," Chen Chuan said gravely. He turned his head and asked, "Old Qi, you said you used to run in esoteric cult circles?" Old Qi nodded. "Can you get these materials, then?" As Chen Chuan spoke, he sent over the names and required quantities of ritual materials through his boundary credential. Old Qi hesitated for a moment, then said, "I can!" "How long will it take?" Gritting his teeth, Old Qi said, "Leave it to me! I can get them before midnight at the latest!" Chen Chuan pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and thrust it into Old Qi's hands. "If it's not enough, use my share first." "This is plenty," Old Qi said. "Little Brother Chen, leave this to me." With that, he stuffed the cash into his pocket and hurried back toward the car. "Old Qi." Chen Chuan turned and called out to him again. "What is it?" Old Qi stopped in his tracks. Looking at him, Chen Chuan said earnestly, "Don't push yourself too hard. Your own safety comes first." Old Qi waved a hand at him. "I know." Watching him leave, Chen Chuan headed deeper into the shantytown. Along the way, he encountered person after person collapsed unconscious on the ground. He immediately quickened his pace, grabbing everyone within sight and hauling them to the outer fringe of the anomaly's influence. Some had collapsed inside their shacks. In times like this, there was no need for courtesy; he kicked the doors open directly and dragged the people out. The rain continuously soaked his body, but it was vaporized in an instant by his body heat, rising away in wisps of steam. Around a thousand people lived in this shantytown, but the area primarily affected formed a ring spreading outward from the shack where Xiaoman lived. He could only carry out those on the outermost perimeter who could still be saved. The ring of people closest to that area was already dead. All told, he brought out about twenty-odd people. Seeing his actions, some nearby residents tried to come forward and help, while others, likely with family inside, rushed in anxiously. Yet none could take more than a few steps before pitching forward and collapsing, only to be dragged back outside the safe zone by Chen Chuan. After that, no one dared step forward again. More and more people gathered around now, silently watching Chen Chuan's figure darting in and out. After bringing out everyone he could save, Chen Chuan walked toward the center. Throughout the entire process, his Second Self showed intense blurring. Even his boundary credential failed to function normally; the light and shadows before his eyes flickered incessantly, and the incoming audio was patchy and broken, so he simply shut it off. When he reached Xiaoman's home, Big Brother Chong's corpse lay collapsed at the doorway. The fatal wound was a slashed throat, with a huge pool of blood gathered underneath. Not far away lay a handgun—the one Xiaoman had originally held in his hands. He raised his eyes. Several bullet holes remained in the wooden panel opposite. Walking slowly into the backyard, he saw a mannequin sitting in the rain, cradling a boy's corpse. The mannequin's hollow eyes stared upward. In the boy's back was a bloody bullet hole. He watched for a moment and took a breath. This urban legend could no longer be easily resolved. Moreover, as time passed, its area of influence would likely expand further. He couldn't say for other places, but the entire shantytown would certainly fall within its range. The simplest method would be to have all these people move away. Yet he knew that apart from here, these people had nowhere else to go. This was the only place where they could stay, the only place that could hold them. He turned and walked outside. There was still time; before the area of influence expanded fully, there was still a chance to contain it. Around eleven that night, Old Qi finally returned. He carried a large case down from the car and walked up to Chen Chuan. "Little Brother Chen, everything you asked for is here." Chen Chuan took it with one hand. "Old Qi, thank you for your trouble." "This is nothing." Old Qi looked at the surrounding situation and said solemnly, "Little Brother Chen, are you going to set up a ritual? Let me help you." "You can't go inside, Old Qi," Chen Chuan said. "Go rest first. I'll take care of the rest." "All right, Little Brother Chen. I'll wait for you in the car." Chen Chuan carried the case back into Xiaoman's shack. He looked at the mannequin, opened the case, took out the tools inside, and began painting ritual patterns onto the surrounding wooden walls. This was his first time setting up an esoteric ritual. Fortunately, this containment ritual had been refined and summarized by the Esoteric Cult Bureau, so it wasn't overly complicated; he only needed to follow the pattern. The important thing was that the person drawing the ritual needed to know its purpose and the final effect it would achieve, and he was very clear on both. As a fighter, his hand was exceptionally steady. Every stroke he traced was precise and unerring, and he paid careful attention to line thickness and depth wherever required. Fortunately, the rain had stopped by now; otherwise, drawing it would have been quite troublesome. After several hours of tireless work, as dawn approached, he set down the final stroke.