Closure

In the Confluence, within the Jibei Circuit Command Post, telegrams came and went in a frantic stream. Qiao Weiting, the officer in charge, stood before the operational map, observing the markers indicating troop movements. Just then, a liaison stepped forward and presented a report. "Report, sir! Half an hour ago, abnormal troop movements were detected among the forces of the former imperial house." Qiao Weiting took it, glanced over the contents, and said in a grave voice, "The nobility's private troops?" Ever since the Fumu splitting began in Center City, their primary objective here had been to pin down the army of the former imperial house. Under this pressure, even if the former imperial house committed forces toward Center City, the numbers would be limited. However, the nobility's private troops were another matter entirely. Highly independent, they shared a co-governing relationship with the current former imperial house. Unless a conflict escalated to the level of a national war, they generally took no part in clashes between the two sides. Yet now they were on the move. This situation was exceedingly abnormal. He said, "Instruct our informants to find out what is going on immediately." "Yes, sir!" Qiao Weiting waited for about ten minutes before his adjutant hurried back with the liaison who had just left, holding another telegram. Surprised, he asked, "So fast?" The adjutant told him, "Our informant transmitted it right after." He handed the telegram over. "One of their Auxiliary Generals was slain at the front." Qiao Weiting paused in surprise, reaching out for the telegram. "We haven't engaged them..." Then he realized. "The fissure?" "Yes!" the adjutant said. "They found a fissure leading into Center City, but they encountered fierce resistance there, and an Auxiliary General fell in battle." "Is it confirmed?" "Confirmed!" The adjutant was visibly excited. They had fought the former imperial house for so long, yet a victory of this magnitude was still relatively rare. Titled commanders like that usually remained deep within heavy layers of protection, and possessing formidable personal martial prowess, they could typically retreat even if bested in direct combat. Now one had been slain outright at the vanguard. If disseminated across every command post, the news would provide an immense boost to morale. After finishing the telegram, Qiao Weiting pondered for a moment. "So the deployment of those noble private troops is due to this? Or..." "Report! Urgent telegram from the rear!" Another liaison rushed in, saluted, and swiftly presented a telegram to Qiao Weiting. Qiao Weiting's expression hardened as he took it at once. After reading it, his expression turned graver than ever before. He looked up and barked, "Notify the Defense Department and the Center City Administrative Hall of this news and the corresponding situation immediately! Tell them to prepare defenses by any means necessary—and be quick!" "Yes, sir!" the liaison answered loudly and bolted out. Qiao Weiting glanced down at his wristwatch. "Let's hope there's still time." *** Inside the fissure, Chen Chuan glanced toward the outside. He knew that even if he and Chen Bitong joined forces, they would be no match for a martial artist. He said, "Teacher Chen, there's still time to leave now." Chen Bitong shook his head, speaking in a firm voice. "Captain Chen, as I said, I will fight here until my final breath. I'm not going back." With that, he suddenly turned and threw a booming punch toward Chen Chuan, a faint shimmer of light rippling across his fist. Chen Chuan reacted purely on instinct, thrusting a palm forward. Fist and palm collided instantly. The next moment, a surge of power welled through his body, propelling him backward. At the very same instant, a wave of spiritual power imprinted itself into his mind, bearing an abundance of understanding and legacy with it. Chen Chuan was driven all the way outside the fissure before regaining his footing. When he looked up, his gaze met eyes full of hope and a profound entrustment. "Captain Chen, go back." Having spoken those words, Chen Bitong turned and strode resolutely toward the far end of the fissure. Hearing his final parting words, Chen Chuan stood firmly in place and did not step back inside. He knew this was Chen Bitong's own choice, and he respected it. Right then, an extraordinarily powerful draft swept outward, whipping the ends of his hair back. He watched Chen Bitong's silhouette emerge from the other side of the fissure and vanish into the mist and glare. A moment later, the entire fissure flickered rapidly several times and closed completely. Chen Chuan gazed at the vast expanse of open ground before him. Across it flowed the river, the sound of rushing water exceptionally clear in the quiet. He looked down; at his feet lay the half-face mask Chen Bitong had dropped, resting upon the great standard that had just been blown out. He bent down, picked them up, and wiped away the dust with his hand. "Captain Chen?" Chen Chuan turned around. Several dozen meters away, security personnel stood in formation. Behind them lay freshly dug trenches, coiled barbed wire, and barricades. These were presumably the response units deployed to seal off this location. All of them were gazing at him with eyes brimming with reverence. They saw that Chen Chuan's military overcoat was torn and ruptured in multiple places, scorched by smoke and fire, while his clothes and cap were stained with blood—the unmistakable signs of a truly brutal battle. Chen Chuan glanced over and noticed the scabbard of the Xuejun Saber had also been swept out by the draft. At least he wouldn't have to custom-order a replacement. Just as he was about to walk over, he saw Fang Zhixin step forward, take the initiative to pick up the scabbard, and offer it to him, an inquiring look in his eyes. Chen Chuan looked back at him calmly. Fang Zhixin's eyes dimmed with sorrow. Once Chen Chuan took the scabbard, Fang Zhixin stepped aside. Several men in trench coats and fedoras approached. "Assistant Fang, will you come with us now?" Fang Zhixin took one last look in the direction where the fissure had been, nodded, and allowed them to put handcuffs on him before following them away. Another person stepped forward, saluted Chen Chuan, and presented an object with both hands. "Captain Chen, Commissioner Liang instructed us to give this to you." Chen Chuan took a look; it was a vial of recovery medicine. Taking it, he looked up at the sky. The blood-red glow still lingered above. This Fumu splitting was clearly far from over. *** In the Lower District, an armed convoy belonging to the Lianwei Heavy Control Company was traveling through the tunnels. Unlike the urban districts above, the road conditions and environment here were exceedingly convoluted. Taking the shortest path was often impossible, requiring endless turns and detours, and occasionally stopping to negotiate with locals. This was because most of the Lower District's tunnels were controlled by various gangs and factions. Everyone was on high alert at the sight of such a heavily armed convoy passing through. Several factions that had previously reached agreements with them had even backed out at the last moment, turning them away. Che Gaoyi's expression was cold. Displeased though he was, he knew resorting to violence here was out of the question. Once they opened fire, every subsequent path would be choked with obstacles; no one would trust them again, and everyone would fight tooth and nail to block them. Their mission was to escort cargo out of here, not wage a war. Getting bogged down was the last thing they needed, so each time, they chose to take a detour. However, this made their route even longer. He knew that if this dragged on and the splitting wave above concluded, the Disposal Bureau would have hands free to pin them down, trapping them down here for good. After another hour or so of stop-and-go driving, he glanced toward the passenger seat beside him, where a plump, middle-aged man in an imported formal suit sat. He asked, "Mr. Pan, how much longer until we get out?" Mr. Pan's brow was drenched in sweat, whether from anxiety or heat. Hearing the question, he hurriedly answered, "Mr. Che, half an hour at most! The fellows occupying the road up ahead are old brothers of mine. They will never stop us." He wasn't bluffing. The journey that followed went smoothly; the factions along the way allowed them passage without causing any further trouble. After traveling a bit further, Mr. Pan peered outside and said excitedly, "Mr. Che, right up ahead! There's an exit just ahead. Once we get out through there, we'll be clear of Center City!" Che Gaoyi did not share his excitement. He calmly spoke a few words into his boundary credential, and a scout vehicle immediately drove forward. Several minutes later, an anxious voice came through the boundary credential: "Mr. Che, there's a Disposal Bureau checkpoint at the exit ahead! They say they've sealed off this exit and won't let us through!" Che Gaoyi's expression sank. "The Disposal Bureau? How could the Disposal Bureau possibly be here?" As he spoke, he shot a cold glance toward Mr. Pan. Mr. Pan panicked instantly and rushed to explain, "Mr. Che, I have no idea! It has nothing to do with me! This route is a safe passage that the higher-ups of our Iron Fist Society and Lutong Logistics spent years establishing. There's no way the Disposal Bureau should know about it!" Che Gaoyi understood internally that someone had leaked the information in secret. Rather than obsessing over why this leak had occurred, he focused strictly on his mission: the cargo had to be transported out. He spoke into the boundary credential, "Can we force our way through?" The voice on the other end responded solemnly, "Mr. Che, we've scouted it. There's a third-limit fighter guarding the post. Although we could force our way through, it would definitely alert the Disposal Bureau, and we might not be safe once we get outside." Che Gaoyi narrowed his eyes. At such a critical juncture, the Disposal Bureau had to stretch every ounce of manpower as far as possible, yet they had stationed a third-limit fighter right here. That made it clear they attached immense importance to this spot—and they undoubtedly possessed concrete intelligence. He thought for a moment, then asked, "I remember you saying that besides this route, there's another path?" Old Pan stammered in haste, "Y-yes, there is another one deeper underground, but it runs close to the Plague Cult's territory. It... it might be a little dangerous." Che Gaoyi had heard of the Plague Cult, but he didn't care about that. Every one of his men was equipped with protective suits and face masks. He said, "Then we take that route." The entire convoy immediately altered its course, and ten-odd minutes later, it veered into a tunnel located even deeper underground. Che Gaoyi looked around. This place was indeed different from the rest—there were no sun vines here at all, leaving it virtually devoid of light. When the vehicle headlights swept across the walls, dense illustrations appeared. They looked like nothing more than messy graffiti, but after gazing at them for a few moments, an inexplicable wave of discomfort welled up from the depths of his mind.