Chapter 31: Underground City

The task of tracking Xu Xianyue had been issued by Shi Zui to Aether a full month earlier.

It all started that night when Shi Zui had dropped Xiao Qiu off for her meeting. An unusual aura and sensation had piqued Captain Shi’s vigilance, and the base placed immense trust in such instincts.

That very evening, Aether had pulled the records: Xu Xianyue had booked a ticket to Beijing on the evening of July 11th. That clearly contradicted her claim to Xiao Qiu about doing some tutoring—it was an obvious lie. She simply hadn’t wanted Ye Jingqiu to know.

The last time Xie Pingzhi had spotted Xu Xianyue at Mist Spirit Mountain, it had undoubtedly been her in the flesh. And in the days of tracking since, Xu Xianyue’s movements had overlapped almost perfectly with the base’s detected elemental fluctuations. She always seemed to zero in precisely on Xiao Qiu’s location.

Yet she never showed herself. She merely watched from a great distance.

“Doesn’t look like she’s stalking Xiao Qiu,” Shi Zui said, flicking the screen with her finger. “More like she’s following Xiao Qiu… searching for something.”

“You mean the Dragon Lair?” Zhou Xianhui blurted out in surprise. “But she’s not an Awakener. How could she know about any of this?”

Four years ago, the Dragon Breath Disaster had blanketed a vast area. Leaving aside the victims claimed by the Dragon Flame that night, the sheer number of people who had laid eyes on the Candle Dragon itself was more than twenty times the attendance at the Jingtang Building trade fair.

S-rank Exotic Beasts were exceedingly rare, with fiercely territorial instincts. Within the base’s known records, the Candle Dragon was the sole hegemon across the entire East Asian Continent for thousands of years. Such a creature possessed world-shattering power and could even bestow primal Instinct upon ordinary beasts with ease.

That was why the mass memory wipe hadn’t been entirely foolproof. The base had initiated a decade-long monitoring program for those two thousand-plus witnesses, ensuring none of them mutated into Awakeners under the Candle Dragon’s influence.

These checks were utterly silent. Perhaps the moment they passed through a subway security gate, Aether had already updated its database.

Just four years had passed since the disaster. Xu Xianyue, who had lost her parents in it, was naturally on the watchlist. But the reports showed her consistently as a non-Awakener.

Only the Center Group had the authority to alter database entries, and none of them would bother concealing the status of some ordinary girl.

“Maybe Messiah told her the truth,” Shi Zui murmured, her right hand resting on the control panel, her words coming slow and deliberate. “But why would Messiah use a student for this?”

To exploit her hatred? Or because she was Xiao Qiu’s friend?

None of it was clear. Besides, the intel they’d gathered so far wasn’t enough to justify dragging Xu Xianyue into an interrogation room. Shi Zui could issue a hard order if she wanted, but tipping their hand was the last thing they needed.

If Messiah aimed to stop the base from slaying the Candle Dragon, one non-Awakener wouldn’t cut it. For the base, playing the long game to hook the big fish was the way to go.

“Still…” Zhou Xianhui turned to look at Shi Zui. “Have you told Xiao Qiu about this?”

As an S-rank Specialist, Ye Jingqiu held clearance second only to Ying Tian and the Center Group. Shi Zui and Zhou Xianhui had already filled her in on everything about Xie Pingzhi. But as for Xu Xianyue becoming half a suspect in the base’s eyes? Shi Zui hadn’t breathed a word, given their friendship.

“I’ll do it soon,” Shi Zui said with a nod.

~~~

“Is the elemental fluctuation really this uniform?” Ye Jingqiu leaned in to peer at the map report, which condensed the base’s round-the-clock buildup of dense resentment energy. She couldn’t help her curiosity.

Ning Wan, who had just moved in days ago and barely slept, yawned. “Yeah. The department’s been arguing nonstop about it. Some think we’re at the make-or-break moment for the world’s peace and safety. They want to bring in excavators and dig up three feet of mountain to find this dragon’s sleeping spot.”

There was no way to hide something that massive in the glass house. Alchemy and Daoist arts were human inventions to counter Exotic Beasts—these creatures couldn’t craft their own pocket spaces.

Ning Wan, the weary office drone, stared blankly ahead before sighing in despair. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“I say we shouldn’t stop the Candle Dragon at all. Wouldn’t it be fun if we all went down together?” Ning Wan shifted to a smile that sent chills down the spine, though her simmering frustration leaked through every word. “Office drones just want to end the world!”

Within the surveyed area, the hotspots for Aether elemental anomalies were White Dragon Pool in the northeast corner of the capital, Tiger Gully to the northwest, Cat Ear Mountain to the southwest, and the Canal to the southeast. But their fluctuation averages were virtually identical, leaving investigators stumped.

Ye Jingqiu stared at the screen for a long while. If she connected those four anomalous points, the area they enclosed was nearly the whole of Beijing.

“Could it be right under the entire capital?” Ye Jingqiu wondered aloud, recalling the golden palace she’d glimpsed in the Mirror Domain. Such grandeur and scale rivaled the legendary Qin Shi Huang Mausoleum. Only the vast ten thousand square kilometers of the Imperial Capital could house a world like that.

Ning Wan shook her head at once, dismissing the idea. “This is the capital, crisscrossed by over a dozen subway lines. They’ve combed through nearly every inch. How could anything be hollow underneath?”

“The deepest subway is only about thirty meters, right? What about deeper? Hundreds, thousands of meters?” Ye Jingqiu pressed, thinking it over.

Ning Wan sucked in a breath. “Huh. Maybe?” The reminder jogged her memory. “Yeah, there was that one case.”

Xie Pingzhi craned her neck from not far away—this was her wheelhouse. “You mean the Kola Borehole? Zhouzhou and I went there before.”

The Kola Drilling Rig was one of the Soviet relics from the Cold War era. By 1994, scientists had bored down to twelve thousand meters underground. But that bizarre project, born of rivalry, had sputtered to a halt after a few intermittent years. The public excuse was lack of funding.

No one had questioned it—the Iron Curtain had already crumbled. But only the base knew the truth: they’d stopped mainly because the scientists had unearthed a dead Exotic Beast at the bottom.

Koxiche the Undying, the other absolute overlord on the continent. She and the Candle Dragon had divided the land with Lamdaler Peak as the boundary, ruling it together.

After that incident, the base took over the drilling site. Investigations revealed that Koxiche had likely been forcibly sealed underground in the eighteenth century—the twenty-seven silver nails and witchcraft runes embedded in its body served as irrefutable proof.

At that time, the Kola Peninsula was still under the rule of the Romanov Dynasty, and the death of this S-rank exotic beast marked one of humanity’s triumphs in reclaiming the world. It was hard to imagine the staggering risks involved in subduing such a colossal monster, but that victory undoubtedly owed much to the aid of Catherine the Great.

Even now, the base maintained round-the-clock surveillance on the motionless “corpse” that showed no signs of breathing. When dealing with these creatures, humanity could afford no moment of complacency.

Having heard the full story, Ye Jingqiu rubbed her chin and turned back to Ning Wan. “In that case, why don’t we…”

Ning Wan instantly grasped her meaning, her gaze turning kindly. “Don’t even think about it. Unless we’re absolutely sure that dragon is sleeping ten thousand meters underground, the base would never take the risk. The Base Leader couldn’t shoulder that kind of expense. Last year’s budget deficit was nearly three billion dollars—the treasury’s cleaner than my face.”

“Oh, right. And in dollars, no less.”

Ye Jingqiu, who had been about to offer to chip in some funds: …

Never mind. Sorry to interrupt!

“Others back at headquarters have probably thought of the Koxiche precedent by now,” Ning Wan said with a yawn, sounding thoroughly fed up. “They’ll likely be bothering Minister Yi to recall earth-element awakeners from the branch divisions en masse soon enough. Whatever—I’m heading off for some sleep. I’m the one doing the actual work with you all; no need for me to go in and make up the numbers.”

Ye Jingqiu let out a fake yawn of her own. “I’ll catch some shut-eye too.”

“Weren’t you just getting up?” Ning Wan asked, puzzled.

“That doesn’t stop me from being sleepy right now,” Ye Jingqiu replied righteously.

Ning Wan, who had been working nonstop for three straight days, fixed her with a death glare and offered some earnest life advice. “The young who don’t strive will only weep in old age, dear Classmate Xiao Qiu. Slack off now, and tomorrow you’ll be living on fresh air.”

Ye Jingqiu replied politely, “In that case, make it seventy percent sweet with coconut chunks and tapioca pearls, please.”

Utterly impervious to reason.

Before Ning Wan could even roll her eyes, the studio door swung open. Shi Zui stood there gripping the handle, her tone mild.

“Xiao Qiu, I need to talk to you.”

The words acted like a switch. In the blink of an eye, Ye Jingqiu—who had just been talking about sleep—sprang to her feet and bolted out the door at a speed that would make world champion Bolt jealous.

Ning Wan: “…Try saying you’re sleepy again, why don’t you?”

Ye Jingqiu was already out in the hall, deaf to Ning Wan’s accusation and ignoring the stare boring into her back.

She had spent enough time around the captain by now that Xiao Qiu had tested the waters enough times to realize her tolerance toward her was increasing. And so…

She planned to push an inch further for every inch allowed.

“Captain, Captain, what’s up?” Ye Jingqiu sometimes liked repeating a name twice. She casually slid the sliding door shut behind her and leaned back against it. “Is something the matter?”

Without any preamble, Shi Zui handed her the tablet. “Yes. It’s about Xu Xianyue.”

Ye Jingqiu froze for a second, then snatched the tablet and scanned it eagerly. “Has something happened to Teacher Xiao Xu? Was she attacked by an exotic beast…?”

“…?”

She uttered the final word hesitantly.

The screen showed a dozen photos of Xu Xianyue, all against backgrounds Ye Jingqiu knew intimately—the very lands she had surveyed with the other base members.

Ye Jingqiu flipped through the information rapidly. Once she had pieced together the full sequence of events, a long silence stretched out.

“When… did Teacher Xiao Xu go to Beijing?” After racking her brain, it was the only question she could muster.

“July twelfth, the morning of the trade fair at Jingtang Building,” Shi Zui said. Noticing Xiao Qiu’s visibly downcast expression, she added by way of explanation, “We suspect she was tempted by Messiah into doing something.”

She put heavy emphasis on the word “tempted.” Ye Jingqiu looked up, rallying a bit of spirit. “Why Teacher Xiao Xu?”

“The exact reason isn’t clear yet, but it’s highly likely that Xu Xianyue has regained her memories of the Candle Dragon.” Shi Zui pulled up records from a disastrous Task A that had cost the base dearly. “On May twelfth, 2016, Xu Xianyue was out for a stroll near the Huangpu River with her family. That same night, the Candle Dragon arrived at the Yangtze River Mouth and sparked a massive fire. Her parents were among the victims.”

Shi Zui didn’t go into too much detail, since the fire was something Ye Jingqiu had learned about back in her first year of high school.

Ye Jingqiu’s left hand clenched involuntarily. “So… Teacher Xiao Xu wants to take revenge herself?”

Shi Zui nodded. “The base’s psychologists have submitted a report. The Candle Dragon is likely a hatred she’ll carry for the rest of her life.”

The atmosphere chilled once more, and the two fell silent for a long while.

Once Ye Jingqiu had digested the facts, she sensed something and looked up at Shi Zui. “In all those missions where exotic beasts appeared… there are victims like Teacher Xiao Xu, aren’t there?”

“Yes. More precisely, every member of this base has been a victim at some point,” Shi Zui said calmly. “Fighting them is incredibly difficult. Without that bone-deep grudge to fuel you, few would stick with it this long.”

It was a stark, chilling statement, yet Shi Zui delivered it in an utterly matter-of-fact tone, pulling back the veil for Ye Jingqiu once and for all.

This was information that should have been shared with Xiao Qiu much sooner, but the sudden awakening of the Candle Dragon had derailed the original plan. Still, it wasn’t too late now—this was a truth every awakener had to face.

“A-Xie’s lover, Zhou Xianhui’s older sister, Base Leader Ying’s parents—they all died at the hands of exotic beasts.”

It was an eternal clash and entanglement between two races. Compared to these world-shattering, astonishingly resilient exotic beasts, humans were fragile as ants, their lives as insignificant as a breath from the Candle Dragon.

The shadow of death hung over humanity like the Sword of Damocles. The deadlock had only shifted in the last century or so before Christ, when instinct granted humans the right to fight back. Elemental weapons provided the chance for a counteroffensive, and technology offered a glimmer of real hope.

Yet the dark clouds that had loomed for thousands—tens of thousands—of years had yet to fully dissipate. Still, there were always those willing to become the thunder itself.

Blood and tears were a power that could endure for ages. When a person knew exactly why they swung their sword, that blade became unstoppable.

In the eras of long ago, what truly mattered was not what humans thought, but what the exotic beasts thought. Those who wielded power and authority could reign supreme over the world forever. No one could defy their will; the only outcome for those who resisted was death.

“Some might call it a fate of powerlessness, but the successors proved one thing—that the so-called inevitable, crushing destiny…”

Shi Zui suddenly turned her head. The pendant faintly visible at her chest caught the sunlight streaming in from the window.

“…can also be changed.”