Ghostform

After stepping into the train car, Chen Chuan found an empty seat and sat down. There were few passengers at this hour. The few nearby glanced at him and conscientiously kept their distance. Even though he wore plain clothes today, the fact that he was carrying a weapon openly in public, combined with the faint oppressive aura he radiated, marked him unmistakably as a fighter. Once the doors closed and the tram started moving, a news program began broadcasting on the overhead projection screens. "Hello everyone, this is The Luo Qi Show! Yesterday, yet another violent attack involving fighters occurred on Ceshu Street—the twelfth such incident this month. "Yes, only twelve verifiable incidents! These numbers were officially compiled by the administrative bureau, so they're absolutely, positively accurate!" On the screen, footage showed a convoy of patrol cars wailing toward a building as traffic on both sides scrambled to clear the way. One car swerved too late and slammed headfirst into the roadside guardrail, its driver leaning out the window to spew furious curses. "Look at that! Our city patrol officers are on their way to the scene once again!" Behind him, scene after scene played of emergency vehicles speeding through the city. Countless clips layered over one another in a dense, dizzying flurry until a hand slammed down over them with an audible slap. The screen quickly cut back to Luo Qi's face with his cockscomb hairstyle, which looked surprisingly presentable. "Do you know what? It suddenly reminds me of the rats in the city sewers—gathering eagerly around a corpse like it's a feast, and once that corpse is gone, waiting for the next one. "Of course, I’m definitely not referring to our hardworking, dedicated patrol officers. Remember what our honorable Director Bao said?" His tone dropped, becoming solemn and subdued. "'Center City spans an immense area with so much to oversee. Our patrol officers often have to rush to the next scene the moment they finish handling one. Most officers can barely manage two meals a day...' "Oh, sure," he continued in an exaggerated caricature, "all you people lost was your safety—but we lost a meal!" Chen Chuan watched the screen. Crimes committed by fighters happened every day. On fringe channels, the tally sometimes exceeded a dozen in a single day—they simply never made it to the mainstream broadcasts. Of course, security was tight in the bustling, prosperous districts, so such incidents were genuinely rare there, and the residents felt insulated from it all. But out in the fringe districts and hidden corners, conflicts erupted countless times a day. In truth, the city patrol could only handle minor public-order disturbances. Gang clashes, fighter crimes, or people suffering from functional disorder syndrome were beyond their capability. They were merely scapegoats put forward to absorb the public's venting and outrage. As he watched, the tram reached the next stop. A moment later, he sensed something unusual: someone had boarded and taken a seat right beside him. There were plenty of empty seats, and most passengers stayed clear of him, yet this person had sat directly next to him. Not only that, but after sitting down, the man stared blankly ahead, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath. Wu Bei's tense voice sounded in his ear: "Brother Chen, this guy's biological field is a complete mess, and he's loaded with implants. It looks very likely he's got a trance affliction..." Chen Chuan glanced at the man. He wasn't sitting facing forward, but facing away from him. As if sensing Chen Chuan's gaze, the man whipped his head around. His body remained still, but his head twisted completely backward—clearly the result of skeletal modification. His pupils were mismatched in size, dilating and contracting erratically as they shifted back and forth several times. Chen Chuan watched calmly. Though the man's pupils continuously dilated and contracted, his gaze was hollow and numb. The muscles under his facial skin twitched incessantly, and his muttering never ceased. Chen Chuan could faintly make out: "Give it to me... Give it back to me..." Moments later, the man's entire body convulsed. His expression twisted into a savage sneer, and his jaws snapped wide as if he wanted to lunge and bite. A hand came down gently onto his shoulder. As a wave of jin sank into him, he froze, completely immobilized. Only his mouth continued to open and close, making cracking bone-on-bone sounds as drool dripped from the corner of his lips. In a tram car filled with blaring commercials and news reports, this minor commotion drew virtually no notice. Outside, the scenery slid smoothly past, while inside, the passengers remained glued to their boundary credentials. It was as if no one saw what was happening. Chen Chuan contacted the tram's platform control via his boundary credential to report the situation. When they pulled into the next station and the doors slid open, the station master and patrol officers hurried aboard. They were experienced in such matters. An officer stepped forward and skillfully secured the man with a restraint cable, while a medic administered an injection, causing the man to instantly slump into a limp heap. The station master spat in disgust. "These damn maggots. They shove any second-hand implant into their bodies and undergo whatever sketchy surgery they can find. They ought to just rot away in the shantytown mud." Turning to Chen Chuan, he said gratefully, "Thank you for the report, sir." Chen Chuan nodded faintly. He watched the man being taken away, and once the tram was back underway, he asked Wu Bei, "Brother Wu, did that tracker appear just now?" Wu Bei answered, "No, there was no sign of him the entire time." Chen Chuan pondered: could it have been a coincidence? It truly seemed to be just an accident. Up until the tram reached his station and he made his way back to Xuan Palace Building, nothing else happened. Yet in a corner of the building diagonally across the street, someone watched in his direction, keeping their gaze fixed on him until he stepped into the building. Only after lingering a while longer did the observer leave. The following day, because it was his scheduled radiant light irradiation day at the Haijing Grounds, Chen Chuan left early in the morning. Perhaps because his evaluation score had improved, the academy had not only scheduled last month's irradiation quota for him, but had also avoided pushing this month's quota into the next. Consequently, he bundled his quotas from the Disposal Bureau and from Cao Guixi together this time to maximize the length of a single session. Keeping yesterday's incident in mind, he stayed in touch with Wu Bei throughout the trip. The journey passed without incident. He only broke contact upon entering the perimeter security zone of the Haijing Grounds, where boundary credentials could not be used, making it equally impossible to track him through field technology. As for whether anyone would choose to ambush him here— Though the Haijing Grounds looked desolate, security patrols blanketed the surroundings, watchtowers lined the route, and if trouble broke out, the vast, open terrain offered nowhere to run. Thus, he reasoned that even if someone meant him harm, they wouldn't choose to strike here. Just as he anticipated, the half-hour walk after getting off the tram went smoothly. This time, he spent seven full hours at the Haijing Grounds, only emerging at seven in the evening. Night had fallen completely. There were no streetlights around, only the flashing red beacons atop distant watchtowers. Patrol cars passed by on occasion, slowing to hail him from afar before moving on. Chen Chuan reached the station without trouble. After waiting briefly, he boarded the tram. It was quiet again at this hour, the car mostly empty, with only an occasional passenger getting on and off. After two stops, the tram exited the Haijing Grounds' perimeter zone. Chen Chuan intended to re-establish contact with Wu Bei, but for some reason, there was no response. Right then, he noticed the lights in the tram car flickering erratically. The tram seemed to have entered a dark, somber tunnel. The outside scenery grew blurred and dim, leaving only the droning clatter of the moving tram. Concurrently, a faint spectral blur began manifesting over his Second Self. An urban legend? Or... His eyes shifted slightly. He reached out to turn off his boundary credential, yet the surrounding phenomenon persisted. This didn't appear to be a light-and-shadow effect created by an artificial field. Yet he sensed a discordant note in all of this. Setting aside the boundary credential, he directed his Second Self to absorb the encroachment of the biological field. In an instant, everything around him vanished. So it really was a problem with the boundary credential. However, that faint sensation of encroachment still seemed to linger. He reflected for a moment. This method didn't fit Wei Wusheng's style. Someone else had set their sights on him, and they wouldn't have prepared just this much—there had to be more to follow. If this was directed against him, he wanted to see what other tricks they had in store. After deliberating, he did not continue blocking the biological field's encroachment, choosing instead to let it in. Within moments, his surroundings reverted to the scene he had just witnessed. Abruptly, as if after a single flicker, a figure wearing a skull mask appeared at the far end of the train car. Its hollow eye sockets were turned in his direction before it took a step forward, walking toward him. Its pace quickened step by step until the final strides broke into a sprint. Chen Chuan saw that as the figure approached, the blurring of his Second Self deepened. Rather than letting the figure close in, he calmly raised the Xuejun Saber and swept it forward. The instant the saber made contact, the skull-masked figure vanished into thin air. Everything returned to normal. The tram continued speeding forward, and the nighttime neon outside bathed the car once more in vibrant color. Had the other party voluntarily retreated? Chen Chuan glanced at his Second Self; the signs of spectral blurring remained. In a dim building somewhere in Shenwei District, a hunched figure sat in silence. The four walls were riddled with holes, and long, vine-like branches reached in from outside, coiling around his body. At the very moment Chen Chuan swept away the skull-masked figure with his saber, the hunched figure snapped his eyes open. His sclerae were shot through with red veins. They rolled twice as he rasped in a hoarse voice, "It worked." Slowly rising to his feet, he walked over to a stone shrine pedestal before him. On it stood a bizarre statue resembling an upright civet, with protruding eyes and mouth, holding up a stone dish with both forepaws—an exceedingly grotesque sight. He picked up a small knife and slowly sliced open his own chest. Once the opening was wide enough, he reached inside, excised several fragments of mutated tissue, and scattered them onto the stone dish. Then he stepped back a few paces and prostrated himself with a heavy bow.