The Swan Takes Flight!

Sitting in the car, Fang Xiaoxia trembled, her eyes wide with terror. She, too, saw those marionette-like corpses and heard Luo Jiu's furious bellow. Had people from the boy's family arrived? A night parade of a hundred demons gathering fairies to back up their young master? A queen striding out from Gensokyo with a sword in hand? Yet the monstrous, ghastly appearance of these figures instantly shattered Fang Xiaoxia's fantasies. Her skin crawled as she recalled Bai Zhou talking about "seeing ghosts"... Could this guy really have come from the underworld, where ghosts and monsters gathered? Fang Xiaoxia's heart pounded erratically. However. Bai Zhou was the one who was truly seeing ghosts right now. "What in the living hell..." Bai Zhou's grip on his purple-gold saber imperceptibly tightened a fraction. The purple-gold blade no longer pointed solely at Luo Jiu and the others in front; angling slightly, Bai Zhou locked his peripheral vision firmly onto these uninvited guests drifting in with the mist from his flank. The similar cut of their clothes gave rise to a few guesses about these mysterious figures, but he felt none of the joy of meeting old acquaintances in a foreign land—because he knew for a fact they couldn't be visitors from Wancheng. Wancheng had long since been reduced to ruins. It was gone; he had seen it with his own eyes. And robes of that design were not something even the Black Robe Great Elder of Wancheng wore regularly; he donned them only during certain grand sacrificial rites, seemingly as a symbol of some special status. Bai Zhou had seen it only once or twice, but it had left a deep impression. Yet these figures, resembling walking corpses from an ancient mountain village, wore them as everyday attire. Since it was impossible for the dead of Wancheng to rise from their graves, there was only one explanation. They likely shared some unknown connection with Wancheng's Black Robes. Were they from the Blood Worship Cult? Doubts rose in Bai Zhou's mind. In Luo Jiu's eyes, these figures were a clandestine faction backing Bai Zhou, finally unable to hold back from stepping in when Bai Zhou was in dire straits. But to Bai Zhou, that notion was utterly implausible. According to the decrypted files, even the Wancheng stronghold itself had been an experimental ground semi-abandoned by the Blood Worship Cult. If they had been keeping eyes on Bai Zhou all along, he wouldn't have been completely oblivious to it, nor would he have escaped death by a hair so many times under the Major. *What's going on?* Thinking of this, Bai Zhou suddenly grew alert. Could these people... be after the forbidden tome? If the Blood Worship Cult knew that the *Dead Sea Secret Scrolls*, over which they and the authorities fought openly and secretly, was in Bai Zhou's hands, Bai Zhou wouldn't be surprised no matter what kind of big shot was mobilized. But if they were able to locate the forbidden tome, the *Dead Sea Secret Scrolls* would never have fallen into Bai Zhou's hands, and it made even less sense for them to only come knocking now... Bai Zhou blinked, his peripheral vision flicking toward the girl sitting in the car. So, were they here for Fang Xiaoxia as well? Thoughts raced through his head, but Bai Zhou's hypotheses were merely conjectures. The similarity lay only in the loose cut and stiff drape of the robes; this alone couldn't verify their identity. There were no special patterns or unique markings to prove who they truly were— it was just that Bai Zhou was sensitive to anything he had witnessed in Wancheng, and whenever he saw a black robe, he would compare it against the Black Robes he knew. Having lived in Wancheng for eighteen years, Bai Zhou had only ever seen one person—the Black Robe Great Elder—wear similar garments, and only twice. Compared to the Great Elder's usual black robe, it was neither magnificent nor mysterious, looking plain and rigid instead, which was why it had left such a lasting impression on Bai Zhou. Back when Base 36 was invaded, the Blood-Robed Elders from the Blood Worship Cult had worn lavish, ostentatious attire, completely unlike this. This led Bai Zhou to a bold conjecture— Perhaps these Tinghai natives had never seen this style of black robe either! One could tell just from Luo Jiu. As a Titled Extraordinary who had read countless classified files compiled by the Major, he still hadn't recognized the newcomers' identities. Beneath the streetlamp, that experienced, battle-hardened Master Painter from the Fine Arts Society was also sizing up these newcomers in suspicious hesitation, keeping his mouth shut. *They're really mysterious...* Bai Zhou thought with grave concern. Those drifting, flickering zombie-like figures emerging from the mist were a mysterious variable bursting onto the battlefield... Would they bring him fortune, or disaster? However. Facing Luo Jiu's interrogation, a voice came from the murky gray mist, sounding alternately distant and near, tinged with a hint of doubt: "Him?" The chilly, damp gray mist rolled forward as if endowed with a consciousness of its own. Deep within the mist, a gaze reached across the distance and landed on Bai Zhou. Through the gray fog, that distant gaze fixed upon him, making Bai Zhou feel as if plunged into an icy cavern in an instant. It felt as though an invisible, frigid viper were slithering up his spine, or as if his entire body were sinking deep into a foul, rotting swamp, destined to melt into rotten mud under the crushing cold. Fortunately, this terrifying erosion lasted only for a split second. The gaze from the depths of the gray mist withdrew quickly, having only swept over him for an instant. "...We have no intention of interfering in your petty disputes." The voice sounded once more, shifting from far to near, as if emanating from every corner of the mist, or resonating directly in the depths of everyone's minds. Accompanying the words were two quiet chuckles. Yet that laughter sent an instinctive shiver down everyone's spine. For they finally realized with horror the bizarre truth concealed within the words and laughter... Every single word—even every subtle syllable of the laughter—came from a different shadowy figure in the mist— The "We" came from the dark silhouette on the far left, "have" came from the frontmost silhouette, and in the blink of an eye, "no" drifted from deep within the fog. That was why the voice sounded both near and far. Yet the transitions between words were eerily seamless, without the slightest delay or pause. The low, deep timbre was completely identical, making it impossible to detect anything amiss at first listen... It was as if the vocal organs of these dozens of dark silhouettes belonged to a single throat. Then— *Whoosh!* Without warning, every hooded figure suspended in the mist turned their head in unison. No precedence, no lag, not a fraction of error. Dozens of silhouettes turned in lockstep at the exact same angle, like puppets manipulated by strings held by a single puppet master. Their movements were completely synchronized; so many bodies acted as one, casting their gazes across the hazy gray mist in the pouring rain to fix squarely upon the big-mouthed Luo Jiu. Luo Jiu: "?" His menacing teeth were concealed as he shut his mouth, his brutal grin vanishing. Suddenly the focal point of all those gazes, Luo Jiu felt his heart drop, yet he quietly backed away behind "Picasso." Then, that eerie voice—arising from dozens of silhouettes yet blending into a seamless whole—slowly seeped out from the churning mist once more. Floating within the fog, they looked at Luo Jiu from afar. "Newborn." They shook their heads in perfect unison, an image deeply chilling and sinister, and murmured faintly: "We... are here for you." *What do you mean, here for me?!* Luo Jiu's eyes widened in an instant. He immediately pointed a finger at Bai Zhou. "Aren't you the people backing him... Who the hell are you?!" "..." Bai Zhou subtly shifted to avoid Luo Jiu's pointing finger, saying nothing and keeping an exceptionally low profile. But no one in the mist answered Luo Jiu's question. The murky gray mist surged forward, an icy chill creeping over everyone's chests. Drifting alongside the mist were those rigid dark silhouettes resembling walking corpses from an ancient mountain village. In the blink of an eye, they had arrived right before them. Luo Jiu's eyes flashed with vicious fury. "—Tear them to shreds!" At this point, no more words were needed. Where words ended, blades began. Whatever the other party had said no longer mattered. Once all these posturing freaks were dead, the truth would reveal itself naturally. Anyone who stopped him from taking Fang Xiaoxia was an enemy he must slaughter. Bai Zhou was one, and these figures—would certainly be no exception! *Rumble!* The Black Warriors moved on command. The colossal monsters charged forward bearing giant shields, smashing directly into the shadowy mist like an iron torrent. They completely disregarded the gray mist's erosion, seemingly possessing some unique resistance. Yet soon, layers of dark shadows swarmed around, flickering behind the behemoths. The gray mist merged with their robes and sleeves, radiating ripples of mist that shattered the flesh and blood of the behemoths. Yet when a behemoth casually swung its arm back at one of the dark silhouettes— it was smashed into nothing more than a piece of black cloth on the ground. No flesh, no blood. "Tricks and parlor magic..." Watching the slaughter grind to a stalemate, Luo Jiu ran out of patience. With a cold snort, he dropped into a deep horse stance. Then, he opened his massive mouth and took a deep breath. *Bzzzt...* In this moment, time and spatial distance seemed to lose all meaning. The world seemed reduced to that gaping maw, split almost to the ears and packed with rows of razor-sharp teeth. The mist seemed sucked away, visibly thinning by several layers as the torrential rain and gale spiraled into his mouth, everything seemingly swallowed like water into a whale. Luo Jiu's chest swelled high. An inhuman hum brewed within his mouth. The mere prelude caused surrounding rainwater to flash into white steam, the ground trembling slightly as small pebbles bounced up and down. The very next instant— "Die for me!" His chest deflated, and the resonance brewing within Luo Jiu's mouth erupted, turning into a visible sonic cannon blast that blasted toward the overlapping dark shadows in the mist ahead. The sonic waves rolled forward, and the gray mist churned instantly as if swept up in a titanic wave. The foremost silhouettes were like sculptures weathered for thousands of years, turning in an instant into grayish-white drifting sand in the wind, scattering and disintegrating into dust amidst the sonic blast. Even the battling Black Warriors met the same fate, reduced in an instant to dust that melded into the sonic blast. *So powerful... Is this the full power of a Titled Extraordinary?* Even though he was not in the direct path of the sonic blast hitting the gray mist, Bai Zhou's eardrums bled from the collateral shockwaves, every inch of muscle in his body shuddering in the sonic tremor. A tornado-like gale swept across the elevated expressway in an instant, causing the entire viaduct to tremble slightly. The sea beneath the bridge churned with massive waves. Such mighty force seemed drawn from nature itself—how could mortal flesh contend with it? Bai Zhou hastily mobilized his spirituality for protection, clamping his hands tightly over his ears. Yet he still stood before the pale yellow Maserati, unmoving as a boulder. *Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!* The saber qi swirling around him clashed violently against the leaking sonic waves, wearing each other down like a foolhardy traveler braving a desert tornado. Meanwhile, in the main clash where the sonic blast struck head-on, that sudden thick fog rapidly contracted and thinned, many dark silhouettes blown away into grayish-white sand on the wind. The entire gray mist seemed to ebb, evaporate, and rapidly retreat. Retreating again and again, it finally receded to the edge of the mist— where several figures strikingly distinct from the other dark silhouettes flickered into view! One was hunched, one was tall and imposing, and another closely followed the tall silhouette, seemingly holding a notebook and recording something. All of them wore loose robes that completely enveloped them from head to toe. Like elusive wisps of shadow, nothing about them could be clearly seen, and they vanished back into the depths of the gray mist in the blink of an eye. Yet in the split second they appeared, Bai Zhou caught a fleeting glimpse of the hunched figure raising a piece of... a withered branch? Its movement was extremely slow, even stiff, yet like a conductor's baton in a musician's hand, it tapped with absolute precision onto some mysterious node within the raging sonic wave. Then, noiselessly— The terrifying sonic wave that shook the viaduct and churned the sea underwent an incredible, startling transformation. The rolling sonic waves, the air-tearing ripples, and the deafening roar seemed to lose their attribute of "sound" in that very instant, stopping dead in their tracks. Everything fell completely silent. The ferocious sonic wave turned into scattered, disordered currents of air, dispersing into nothingness as if stripped of all Spirit out of thin air. The air was even so quiet it felt awkward, with only the wispy gray mist regenerating and slowly creeping back. "What is this... How can this be?!" Luo Jiu's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, sweat pouring down his forehead. "Someone discovered the fatal flaw in your secret technique... like striking an acupoint of death." "Picasso's" low voice came slowly, carrying a strange fervor: "Seeking the unnatural within nature, seeking discord within harmony—such a philosophy also circulates within the Fine Arts Society, though none have mastered it." "—It seems we are dealing with a master!" Luo Jiu nodded, his expression extraordinarily grave. "The one hiding in the shadows is very likely stronger than us, perhaps even above Rank 6..." "Yet I don't understand why an existence like that would target someone like me who has never shown his face in Tinghai..." Luo Jiu's voice was hurried, his gaze dark. "Something has definitely gone wrong. I must report this to Father!" "Indeed, but for now, we need to consider joining forces to break out," "Picasso" said steadily. "Fortunately, even an existence above Rank 6 cannot stop us." As if aware of the trump cards Luo Jiu held, "Picasso" said leisurely, "Just use what your father gave you." "Yeah, things have come to this; there's no other way." Luo Jiu nodded with an ugly look. "However..." Before breaking out, there was one thing he had to do. Luo Jiu's sinister gaze turned toward the Maserati not far away. —Fang Xiaoxia, he had to take her! Yet the moment he turned his head, he froze. For Bai Zhou, who had been standing before the car, had slipped back inside at some point. The tense standoff had granted Bai Zhou an opening to quietly slip back into the car. The tempestuous wind and rain drowned out the soft click of the car door shutting. The Black Warriors' charge into the gray mist had opened a gap in their encirclement around the Maserati. This seemed to have given Bai Zhou an opportunity. "But..." "What does he think he's doing?" Luo Jiu wondered in bewilderment. With them here, where could Bai Zhou possibly go? Fang Xiaoxia wanted to know the answer to that question too. "Plan A is bust; Plan B is a go." Bai Zhou asked out of the blue, "Ready?" "What?" Fang Xiaoxia was thoroughly confused. Then, she watched as Bai Zhou started up the battered, dented Maserati, the engine beneath them roaring to life once more. *Vroom!* The aerodynamic flaps on both sides of the chassis suddenly deployed, adjusting their angles with a few low whirs to tilt upward. Like an elegant swan spreading its wings. Then Bai Zhou took a deep breath, slammed the accelerator to the floor, and violently jerked the steering wheel. *Roar!* The pale yellow hood charged like a beast bursting from its cage. No longer elegant, driven purely by raw kinetic energy, it hurtled forward as if on a suicide run— Its rear turned toward the crowd, eight exhaust pipes spewing fire, the Maserati slammed brutally toward the guardrail along the elevated expressway's edge like a mad bull charging a wall to kill itself. *CRASH!* The violent collision sent massive tremors through the vehicle. The reinforced carbon fiber and alloy composite bumper instantly twisted, cracked, and caved in under the tremendous impact. Debris scattered, the hood warped and popped open, sparks flew, and the rear half of the Maserati vaulted straight into the air, tumbling. Inside the car, the world spun wildly; Fang Xiaoxia screamed. Yet this was only the beginning. Flames erupted from the eight exhaust pipes as Bai Zhou kept feeding gas, wrestling the steering wheel. The thrust from the burning exhaust, combined with the vehicle's forward momentum, allowed the car to tumble and leap straight over the guardrail, as if jumping clean off the spot. Weighing several tons, the Maserati tumbled clear of the bridge deck, trailing flying debris as it boldly launched into the sky beyond the viaduct. The aerodynamic flaps guided the Maserati into a glide. Facing the howling wind and torrential rain, beneath lay the boundless, surging ocean. The swan— had taken flight! "Has this bastard lost his mind? Is he committing suicide?" Luo Jiu was dumbfounded. At this moment, all eyes were glued to the Maserati rocketing into the sky. Even the dark shadows in the mist halted their movements, watching from afar this swan that had suddenly gone mad in a dead end. "Dropping from this height, the car is practically guaranteed to be destroyed and its passengers killed. There's zero chance of survival." "Besides..." Luo Jiu could not comprehend Bai Zhou's actions. "He threw so many Black Warriors into the sea earlier, and they're all prowling in the water right now!" "However, Fang Xiaoxia—" Luo Jiu's face darkened, and he immediately turned to "Picasso" beside him. "Don't worry. Leave it to me." "Picasso" nodded in understanding. He stamped his foot. Colors like oil paint spread outward. The sea beneath the viaduct faintly shimmered with ominous hues, like a sprawling variegated net waiting for prey to plummet straight into its trap. And beyond the net, numerous hideous Black Warriors lurked like water ghouls; knocked off earlier by the Maserati, they now lay in ambush to seal the Maserati's doom. "Fang Xiaoxia won't die." "That kid still doesn't get it. As long as he remains under our watch, there is no chance he can escape..." The Master Painter sneered, "—Unless he can fly!" Inside the car, Bai Zhou had unbuckled his seatbelt at some point. The weightlessness of hanging in midair was palpable even through the car; after a brief glide, the vehicle began to plummet. "Aaaahhh! Bad luck, bad luck, bad luck, bad luck!" Amidst Fang Xiaoxia's screams, Bai Zhou—an out-and-out lunatic in her eyes—took his hands completely off the steering wheel. He even opened the car door, letting the car plunge toward the sea at breakneck speed as howling winds and slanted rain poured inside. His dark hair whipped in the wind, his trench coat snapping violently. Turning to look at Fang Xiaoxia, he sliced through her seatbelt with a flick of his hand. "Ready?" Under Fang Xiaoxia's look as if he were insane, the youth seemed entirely confident. Right in front of her eyes, he reached into his coat and pulled out a... paper airplane? A thoroughly unpretentious paper airplane, crumpled and even a bit ugly, just like the ones Fang Xiaoxia had folded in elementary school. Holding the paper airplane, he crouched by the car door, radiant with spirit, looking as though he were anticipating something grand. He said: "—Ready to take flight?"