Binding

Barely half a day had passed, and the shantytown was just as it had been. Given the earlier disaster, no one dared approach the site of the incident for the moment, leaving a wide open space vacant around it. Chen Chuan had Old Qi wait outside while he walked in alone, arriving at the backyard where the urban legend was bound. The mannequin was still sitting there quietly, cradling Xiaoman. The ritual pattern drawn on the wall had faded slightly. The ritual materials Old Qi had procured were fairly good quality—he likely hadn't been scammed. From the looks of it, even if left unattended, it could hold for another few days. He went back to the front room, found an empty tin can, and scraped the hair and blood of Lang Teng and Bo Chen into it. After burning them to ash, he mixed the remnants into the leftover materials from earlier, then expanded the ritual pattern. A ritual pattern could not be retraced over the existing lines, but it could be extended outward around the perimeter, effectively creating a new outer layer. Of course, with the foundation already in place, he didn't need to add much. After finishing the final stroke, he tossed the ritual brush aside and turned back to look at the mannequin. If all went well, this should suppress the urban legend to its lowest possible level. After waiting a moment, the blurring reaction on the Second Self indeed began to diminish. With a soft click, the mannequin slumped from its half-seated posture onto its back, and the arms cradling Xiaoman fell loose. Chen Chuan waited silently for the result. The signs of blurring continued to recede gradually, but once they reached a certain threshold, they stabilized and ceased changing altogether. Compared to when he had first arrived, this level of intensity was still far stronger. If anyone stayed nearby, they would all succumb and perish within a few days. As expected, it still couldn't be completely resolved. He had considered earlier that the emergence of this urban legend might not be entirely due to Xiaoman's obsession; there was something wrong with the mannequin itself. Xiaoman's obsession had been the primary trigger. If he had simply given up, the phenomenon would have settled into dormancy and caused no further stir. But Xiaoman's death had poured oil onto the fire, making everything far more complicated. He walked over and pressed against the mannequin's chest and abdomen. Sure enough, he found a detachable seam. He popped off a panel from that section, revealing what lay inside—an assembleable set of artificial internal organs. This wasn't a mannequin for displaying clothes. It was a prop dummy used for practice by certain specific groups. Judging by the stains on the inner walls, real internal organs might have once been placed inside. The origin of such an object immediately brought to mind organizations that trafficked human organs. Not only that, besides the normal organ models, there were parts substituted with membranes and fuzzy threads. While they looked like ordinary cushioning filler, he knew they actually represented the mutated tissue of fighters. And there might be even more... He opened the mannequin's head. It appeared completely empty at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed faint residues of crystalline fibers inside, possessing an eerie aesthetic beauty. He pondered for a moment. This was very likely residue from mutated brain tissue. A head had once been placed in here—and to produce this kind of mutated characteristic, it was almost certainly from a fighter of the third limit. Yet how could the brain of a fighter of that caliber ever end up inside this thing? The manifestation of the urban legend might well be linked to the fact that this head had been kept here. To quickly and thoroughly dispel this urban legend, he would have to investigate the story behind it. But he didn't have time for that. So his only alternative was another approach: to completely bind the urban legend and keep it by his side. Although he had considered doing this all along, he hadn't expected the opportunity to present itself so soon. An urban legend of this sort—durable over long periods and capable of being contained—could stimulate his mutated tissue in place of drugs. However, the esoteric ritual materials required for binding it were indispensable, which meant spending money. Of course, compared to specialized drugs, it was likely cheaper. Furthermore, considering how widespread esoteric cults were in Center City, the market for ritual materials was vast enough. Materials solely meant for binding weren't particularly expensive either; to esoteric cults, they were quite commonplace. On top of that, esoteric materials were classified as contraband on the open market. They didn't pass through official platforms, leaving no trace or record during transactions—which was rather convenient for him. Still, leaving such a thing here wouldn't do. He had to find a way to move it, or there was no telling when it might break free of its binding. Generally speaking, long-term containment required a specialized esoteric ritual tool—items typically crafted by esoteric cults. Alternatively, certain remnants left behind by urban legends possessed similar properties. He might happen to have something that could serve as a substitute; whether it worked remained to be seen. It seemed he would need to make a trip back to the academy first. Having made up his mind, he fetched a shovel from the side and buried the mannequin back in the pit. Xiaoman's body also needed to be dealt with. Once he finished tidying the area, he carried Xiaoman's corpse outside. Stepping out of the shantytown and approaching the car, he saw that Old Qi had fallen asleep in his seat. The older man had been busy all through the previous night and had driven them back and forth. Not being a fighter, he was utterly exhausted. Yet as soon as Chen Chuan approached, Old Qi woke up—likely having set an alert in advance on his boundary credential. Seeing Chen Chuan, he hurriedly sat up and asked, "Brother Chen, how did it go?" "There are still a few issues to sort out," Chen Chuan replied. "I need to head back to the academy to grab some things." He set Xiaoman's body down. "Old Qi, please help me see to the arrangements." Seeing Xiaoman's body, Old Qi sighed. "Poor kid... Brother Chen, your business is more important. Go ahead and take care of what you need to. Leave this to me." Chen Chuan looked at him and said, "Old Qi, you're worn out too. Once this is handled, head home and rest. I can manage the rest on my own." Old Qi nodded in agreement. Entrusting Xiaoman's body to him, Chen Chuan turned and departed. Only after Chen Chuan had walked some distance away did Old Qi seem to remember something, smacking his forehead. "Wait, the money..." Through the boundary credential, Chen Chuan's voice came through: "Old Qi, keep the money with you for now. We'll talk about it later." "Right, okay." Chen Chuan caught a tram outside and before long returned to the academy. The moment he stepped within range of the Xuan Palace Building, his boundary credential connected to Hongfu. "It has been detected that the student did not return to the dormitory yesterday. For student safety considerations, the academy recommends that the student undergo implantation of small-scale monitoring implants that do not impede physical activity. "These implants can monitor the student's internal physiological functions and transmit real-time data to the academy in case of dangerous situations, facilitating institutional response..." Following that was a list of benefits for these implants, such as logging precise combat data against opponents, tracking hormone levels in real time, and monitoring the developmental trajectory of mutated tissue, which, alongside evaluation results, would enable the formulation of more tailored training regimens. Chen Chuan read through it and declined without a second thought. Leaving aside the fact that he had no intention of receiving implants, if this kind of data was transmitted to the platform, it wouldn't just expose his movements—it would mean his personal information was completely laid bare to others. It might make training easier, but it would also make countering him far simpler. He preferred to remain an adherent of the intuitive school—or perhaps a Purist Faction member. As he stepped into the elevator on his way up to his room, two messages came in succession. They contained several photos sent by Tan Zhi. Judging by the timestamps, the guy was still at the ball even now. The photos showed him surrounded by alluring young women in daring outfits. In one photo, Tan Zhi was arched backward with one hand across his forehead and the other stretched out behind him as far as it would reach, wearing an expression of ecstatic transcendence. Around him gathered a ring of women with their hands raised high and their feet off the floor in midair, skirts swirling in an intensely dynamic scene. His fellow student Tan Zhi actually had some decent dance moves. Chen Chuan casually marked it as read and swiped it away. He then looked at the second message. It was from an instructor at Wuyi sent via the academy's internal platform. The instructor stated he had learned from the platform that the newly arrived student had deficiencies in combat technique, and offered to provide guidance. If Chen Chuan was interested, he could get in touch. Past reviews and ratings were attached as well. Chen Chuan glanced over it, saved it to his bookmarks to review later, and stepped out as the elevator doors opened. He walked quickly back to his dorm, freshened up, changed his clothes, and ate a few tubes of nutritional paste. Then he rummaged through his luggage, finally pulling out an upper jawbone lined with sharp teeth. This was the remnant left behind after resolving the Mountain Ghost urban legend. He made a point of keeping remnants from past urban legends. This upper jawbone might serve as an item to bind the current one. Whether it would work required testing, as he had never done anything like this before. But based purely on the materials Bureau Director Lei had given him, it was feasible in theory. Moreover, he didn't need to command or deploy the urban legend for anything; he only needed to trap it and keep it close at hand. Thus, the difficulty would be quite low, involving only the most basic level of application. If he wanted to harness and command it, the complexity would likely increase exponentially. That meant the person who had driven that massive esoteric ritual back then must have possessed exceptionally profound mastery in this craft—no wonder Molan Company had invested in him. After retrieving the item, he brought along the volume of documentation as well, packed them into a sturdy tote bag, left the academy, and took the tram once more back to the shantytown. Old Qi's car was gone; he had presumably gone to handle Xiaoman's funeral arrangements. Chen Chuan returned alone to the backyard of Xiaoman's home, buried the upper jawbone as well, placing it right over the mannequin's chest. Then he spread the documents out before him, flipped to a certain page, brought out the last bit of ritual materials, and began tracing stroke by stroke according to the guide. Because this ritual diagram was rather intricate, he had no choice but to copy it directly from the reference. He worked for a good while, nearly exhausting the ritual materials down to the last scrap before finally completing the pattern. Fortunately, no mistakes were made along the way. He stepped back a few paces. Whether it succeeded now depended solely on waiting for the result.