Chapter 52

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Chapter 52: Title

Outside the valley.

Neither Yun Yu nor Gu Qian could recall how they’d exited the valley—one moment their vision blurred, and the next, they found themselves standing beyond its boundaries.

“The path vanished. What’s happening? Did we teleport elsewhere?” Yun Yu gaped at the sheer rock wall before them.

Gu Qian frowned, staring at the clearly visible trail leading into the valley. Why would he claim it was gone?

“Yun Yu—” Her voice faltered as he interrupted.

“Signal’s back. Contacting the Special Bureau now.”

Swallowing her words, Gu Qian watched Yun Yu’s turned back as he made the call. She approached the path’s entrance and cautiously extended her hand.

A powerful recoil sent a numbing shock through her palm. Repeated slaps yielded only vibrating numbness—the entrance had sealed itself.

Special Bureau Headquarters, 15th Floor, Information Section 2.

In an emergency-labeled office, Wu Ming lifted the receiver.

“Special Bureau headquarters. How may I assist?”

His free hand initially scribbled routine notes, but the casual motion froze mid-stroke. The pen dug into paper as his posture straightened.

“Confirmed validity? Understood. Initiating immediate escalation protocol.”

“Dispatch a field team first. The informant’s registered as Yun Yu…” After cross-verifying critical details, he bolted from his station.

Wu Ming—former archivist for the Ghost in Red case, now reassigned to Information Section 2’s first unit since the Spiritual Network’s activation—normally filtered regional reports through standardized classification protocols. Today’s alert shattered that routine.

Three rapid knocks preceded his entry into Chief Liang An’s office.

“Wu Ming?” The chief glanced up from geological charts. “Priority breach?”

“Kunlun Mountain incident.” He thrust forward his notepad, flipped to timestamped call records.

Liang An’s fingers whitened around the pages. Kunlun—the ancestral mountain range haunting every Zhongxia myth—had shown eerie calm since its dragon vein’s awakening during the Spiritual Energy resurgence. Permanent monitoring teams provided scant comfort against its legendary weight.

A phone chime interrupted. Wu Ming forwarded fresh field data from Kunlun’s outpost. Liang An scanned the update, then sprang upright.

“Alert the deputy director. Dismissed.”

En route to executive elevators, Liang An dispatched copies to Lin Jing—their strategic analyst currently buried in Shennongjia flora reports and Yellow River carp-leaping-dragon-gate phenomena.

Lin Jing’s teacup froze mid-sip as the notification flashed. One glance at Kunlun’s seismic readings darkened his expression. Tonight’s planned dinner with thermal imaging reports dissolved into bitter coffee and catastrophe models.

A few days ago, an incident occurred at Shennongjia. This morning, the Dragon Gate emerged on the Yellow River, and suddenly three dragons appeared beneath the Special Bureau’s surveillance satellites… Now fresh disturbances are arising in Kunlun.

Each successive event proved more astonishing than the last. Lin Jing mechanically printed the documents, thinking even an alien invasion would barely ruffle his composure now.

Xi Ning’s Office:

As the Special Bureau’s acting manager, Xi Ning handled current affairs while Yan Hua remained secluded, utterly absorbed in studying a cultivation method left by ancient practitioners, surfacing only for critical matters.

"Deputy Director, have you reviewed the materials I sent?"

"Nearly finished." Xi Ning’s customary smile faded as he scrolled through the digital files. The Yellow River report had barely been digested when Kunlun’s emergency surfaced.

"Your assessment?" Xi Ning looked up at Liang An after completing the documents.

"You should consult Lin Jing for analysis. My expertise lies in procuring materials, which I can have delivered immediately." Liang An shrugged, recognizing the gravity yet staying within his operational boundaries.

"Has Lin Jing been notified?"

"Affirmative."

"Route all materials to him." Xi Ning decided after brief consideration.

Liang An departed briskly – had this not involved Kunlun, his busy schedule wouldn’t permit personal involvement.

Alone, Xi Ning dialed Tang Tong, Chief of Comprehensive Section 5.

"Tang Tong here." Her voice came sharp and efficient.

"Dispatch a team to investigate the Yellow River perimeter."

"Confirmed."

"Coordinate with naval forces at East Sea. Request access to Shunfeng ship for reconnaissance – those dragons unsettle me."

"Engagement protocols?"

"…Tong Tong, cultivate some feminine grace. Violence shouldn’t be your first recourse." Xi Ning’s eye twitched at her growing combativeness from field operations. This temperament hardly boded well for marital prospects.

"Understood."

"Prioritize negotiation. Victory through force remains uncertain." Xi Ning referenced Lin Jing’s alarming report about the dragon race’s formidable capabilities. Most myths agreed Eastern divine dragons commanded awe-inspiring power, discounting deliberate underestimations.

"Noted."

"Adequate personnel?" Division 5’s workload dwarfed other departments.

"The inaugural student cohort has graduated." Her tone betrayed nothing, though these recruits still shuddered remembering her grueling written exams.

"You may select five. Cui Ming claims priority on promising candidates."

"Ten."

"Six maximum."

"Division 5 requires eight minimum. Critical staffing shortage."

"Deal." Xi Ning gave a nod.

"Select your own candidates—personnel transfers fall under Division 5’s jurisdiction."

"Understood." Tang Tong replied curtly before terminating the call.

Having settled two pressing matters, Xi Ning felt some tension ease from his shoulders. Though Tang Tong possessed a fiery temper, her judgment in critical affairs had never faltered.

"Now… who to dispatch to Kunlun…"

*

"Kunlun’s in trouble?" Leng Xingwen blinked, casting an incredulous glance at his grandfather.

"Review these." Xi Ning slid the documents across the table.

The elder remained silent as he examined the materials, his weathered hands pausing intermittently. The revelation of an unknown ancient practitioner residing in Kunlun’s depths sent ripples through his composure.

Within the hushed meeting room, Lin Jing addressed the family patriarch. "Cold Senior, could you estimate this practitioner’s cultivation level?"

"Soaring on a sword requires at least tier two mastery," the old man stroked his beard. "Moreover, I suspect this ancient practitioner shares profound ties with Kunlun itself."

"She called the area a forbidden sanctuary veiled by barriers, warning against touching the sealed gate."

"This aligns with tales my grandfather recounted during my youth."

"What manner of tales?" Lin Jing leaned forward, aware their group held knowledge beyond what fragmented cultivation techniques and half-translated scrolls could offer.

"Xingwen’s cultivation reaches tier two, Xiao Tianji tier three, while I linger at tier two’s pinnacle." The elder’s eyes glinted as he voiced the unspoken question haunting the Special Bureau. "You’ve all wondered about practitioners beyond our ranks, haven’t you?"

Lin Jing met his gaze squarely. "We’ve entertained the notion, yes. Though broaching the subject seemed… indelicate."

"Lower-tier practitioners lack longevity to survive the eras. Higher-tier ones could theoretically endure by conserving spiritual energy—yet none walk among us."

"My grandfather’s story dates back a millennium, when foreign demons corrupted Jiuzhou’s lands. Chaos reigned as dark ambitions fueled endless wars."

"Every tier two and above practitioner joined the conflict. They sealed the invaders through mass sacrifice, though the battle ended swiftly."

"The sealing site…"

"Legends point to Kunlun." The elder spread his hands helplessly. "Truth and myth intertwine like dragon veins beneath mountains."

"Couldn’t any high-tier practitioners have survived?"

"Had they lingered," the patriarch’s voice turned grave, "this world would reject them. We ancient practitioners are relics of the last spiritual epoch—orphans of bygone eras. The Awakening of Spiritual Energy rouses the Heavenly Dao’s operations, and we… we are but stepchildren in Heaven’s reborn order."

Xi Ning’s brow furrowed. "Rejection?"

"Precisely. Though we endured the end-time and witnessed spiritual energy’s resurgence, the cosmos itself strains against our continued existence." The elder’s sigh carried the weight of collapsing star systems. "The Dao favors newborn saplings over ancient roots."

Leng Xingwen’s grandfather cracked a joke, while the young man beside him wore an indescribable expression, his folding fan concealing twitching lips.

"Grandfather, you’ve truly been corrupted by modern times. Grandmother would have boxed your ears if she were here."

"Does this bring harm to you?" The question drew fresh attention from the group.

"Overstepping the world’s tolerance brings consequences. Cultivation means defying natural limits for personal growth, yet submitting to Heaven’s will in cosmic order."

All mortals seeking immortality wage wars within themselves while challenging celestial principles… Not foolishness, perhaps, if one possesses strength to rival cosmic forces – such defiance might even earn recognition from the unseen barrier.

"As legacy Practitioners, do modern cultivators incur Heaven’s displeasure too?" Lin Jing inquired without lifting his pen from notebook pages.

"Heaven’s Dao holds no preferences. Consider it an intricate mechanism maintaining worldly operations." The elder stroked his beard. "Balance between good and evil forms its core directive."

"In our current era, wielding power beyond Tier One disrupts universal equilibrium. Though imperceptible to us, such acts register within celestial records."

After decades of cultivation, Leng Xingwen’s grandfather delivered this explanation with meditative certainty.

"What of contemporary Practitioners then? Those Yellow River Carp that transformed into dragons – surely their power exceeds Tier One?" Lin Jing pressed with academic curiosity.

"This old man remains uncertain. The dragon race belongs to antiquity, their era distant as myths and legends. Surviving records offer little beyond folk tales."

"We request your assistance for a Kunlun Mountain expedition." Deputy Director Xi Ning’s proposition hung between them after measured silence.

"Both of us?" Leng Xingwen’s fan stilled in surprise. The Special Bureau typically deployed their own Practitioners before requesting external aid.

"Let the boy go. My wandering days conclude." The elder waved dismissively.

"Xingwen idles too much. Even Youyang pursues ambitions among your generation."

"But Grandfather, I was cultivating-"

"Does my word no longer hold sway?" The patriarch’s eyebrow arched like drawn steel.

"Your wisdom guides me always." The young master dipped his head in deference.

"We appreciate the intrusion, Deputy Director." Leng Xingwen rose with ceremonial poise, hands folded in salute.

"Your participation honors us." Xi Ning’s shoulders relaxed marginally – Kunlun’s temperamental guardian had already detained three reconnaissance teams.

"I’d bring additional assistance, with permission."

"Who might that be?"

…

Twin vehicles streaked across mountain highways. In the rear compartment, Leng Xingwen balanced notebook calculations against his knee, ink brush darting like silverfish.

Xu Li blinked rapidly at the shifting symbols – static diagrams to others, but writhing sigils to his awakened sight. His trembling hand found dark glasses.

"Cease." The admonishment came without lifted gaze from the teenage prodigy.

"Master, these formulae burn my eyes!" The apprentice pleaded to his youthful teacher – this baby-faced ancient Practitioner who’d somehow collected academicians as disciples.

Xu Li’s internal lament echoed through the suspension’s hum: What madness led me to apprentice under someone whose junior disciples lecture at MIT?

This was still manageable, but Xu Li recalled the day he discovered Director Yan Hua coming to seek his guidance – that had nearly turned him to stone.

Knowledge remains power across all eras.

The youthful-appearing Practitioner named Fei Ran possessed extraordinary talents in formations. Beyond his personal research, he now collaborated with the Special Bureau’s Scientific Research Division 6 on pioneering technologies merging modern science with ancient formations.

Fei Ran set down his pen, lifting his gaze from the notebook to meet Xu Li’s eyes directly.

"Those eyes of yours are your greatest gift."

"Do not squander them."

Xu Li swallowed his protest. It wasn’t that he resisted learning – had that been true, he’d never have sworn apprenticeship. Yet for someone barely escaping academic mediocrity, these complex formations constantly made him question his IQ adequacy.

Particularly during Fei Ran’s explanations, when his intellect felt ground beneath a merciless millstone, leaving him doubting his basic mental capacity.

"Ziqing," Leng Xingwen called from the window seat, amusement coloring his tone, "First-time masters should instruct disciples progressively."

Fei Ran’s courtesy name was Ziqing.

"Says the eternal bachelor lecturing on marriage," Fei Ran countered lightly.

"Never seen a pig run, but you’ve tasted bacon, no?" Leng Xingwen arched an eyebrow, intercepting Xu Li’s desperate look. "He lacks formation basics or the scientific grounding of those silver-haired researchers."

"Remember weeping by the Lotus Pond after your master’s reprimands during your novice days?"

"Fabrications!" Fei Ran’s pen creaked dangerously. He turned with icy disdain. "Who sought whose assistance today? Continue this farce and I depart immediately."

"Twenty years my senior doesn’t make you wiser."

As tensions escalated, Xu Li interjected hastily, "Master, I’ve reviewed Formation Fundamentals but need clarification."

Fei Ran’s attention snapped back, demeanor thawing.

"Which sections?"

Xu Li’s eyes pierced veils unseen by ordinary people and Practitioners alike – illusions, disorientation formations, barriers yielding before his innate perception. This revelation had kindled Fei Ran’s mentorship. His solitary lineage demanded continuation, and such formation talent couldn’t be wasted.

Among cultivation arts, formations, artifact-crafting, alchemy, and talismans stood as most arduous. While any literate person could practice basic cultivation techniques, these four demanded innate talent – without it, attempts proved futile.

"Truly disinterested in that barrier?" Leng Xingwen seized the lull, "That construct’s endured thousands of years."

"Disinterest would keep me in my research lab," Fei Ran retorted. To him, no locale surpassed his sanctum of formation studies.

The Special Bureau driver exchanged knowing glances with his Division 5 counterpart.

—Practitioners lost their celestial aura upon proximity. Behind their lofty facades lay ordinary humans, equally prone to quarrels and tempers.

In the trailing vehicle:

"First mission jitters!" chirped a down-clad woman in her twenties.

"Why my inclusion?" Bai Ye murmured while channeling spiritual energy.

"Perhaps you radiate availability," Yang Xingyu shrugged.

“Brother Yang, did they drag you into this mission out of boredom?”

“No, I’m just curious about what’s happening at Kunlun Mountain. I’ve always wanted to visit the ‘Eye of Hell’ someday.” Yang Xingyu shrugged casually.

“Almost forgot you’re that thrill-seeking outdoor streamer,” Bai Ye remarked with a wry chuckle.

“Looks like snow’s starting. See those flakes?”

“Wen Renyi, first mission jitters?” Yang Xingyu turned from the falling snow outside to smile at the woman across the aisle.

Wen Renyi.

Among the inaugural graduates who’d chosen to remain with the Special Bureau, she’d been assigned to their team. Her cultivation aptitude shone brightly—within days of graduation, she’d already awakened her sense of spiritual energy.

Yang Xingyu’s eyebrows rose when he heard the basic cultivation techniques had been systematized. Barely three weeks since the program launched? If they’d codified the fundamentals this swiftly, nationwide cultivation initiatives couldn’t be far off. Though how the government would roll it out remained a mystery—knowing the authorities, they’d opt for the most cautious approach.

“A month of drills finally paid off.”

“Call me thrilled.” Wen Renyi’s laughter rang clear as wind chimes. “Beats shuffling corporate paperwork any day.”

The two veterans exchanged knowing grins. They’d reviewed her file—the business administration grad who’d traded boardroom hegemony for spiritual pursuit. Rumor had it her recently retired father now sulked behind his resurrected CEO desk, mourning his thwarted retirement.

Their convoy rolled into the frontier town bordering the Eye of Hell, where the Bureau’s temporary field office occupied a surprising location.

“The post office?” Wen Renyi blinked at the Zhongxia Post Office sign. “This can’t be right.”

“Welcome to covert ops,” chuckled the black-uniformed agent emerging from the lead vehicle. “Zou Cheng, Division 5 mission coordinator. Apologies for the rushed introductions earlier.”

The three-story building’s second floor hosted their true destination. A broad-shouldered man hurried forward, hand extended. “Hong Hai, Comprehensive Section 5 branch chief. An honor to host headquarters’ team.”

“Zou Cheng, Division 5.” Their guide completed the diplomatic handshake before ushering everyone into a makeshift conference room.

Two twentysomethings bolted upright from their seats as the group entered. The woman’s fingers whitened around her chairback.

“At ease, everyone.” Hong Hai gestured to the ring of seats around the scarred oak table. “We’ve urgent matters to discuss.”

The seating hierarchy unfolded naturally—Hong Hai anchoring the table’s head, flanked by Division 5 operatives. Along the sides sat Leng Xingwen, Fei Ran, Yang Xingyu’s team, and finally the nervous local pair.

Zou Cheng claimed the floor with a nod to Hong Hai. “We’ve reviewed your reports about the valley incident. For clarity’s sake, could Mr. Yun Yu and Ms. Gu Qian recount that day’s events personally?”

“My turn, I suppose.” Yun Yu rose, sparing a glance at his trembling companion. The usually fearless Gu Qian seemed diminished under the weight of official scrutiny.

“Appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Yun Yu.”

“Just Yun Yu, please.” The young man adjusted his collar awkwardly. “It started when…” His account unfolded with military precision, each detail confirming the earlier report’s veracity.

There were slight discrepancies, likely due to the human brain’s tendency to blur memories over time.

As Yun Yu spoke, most listened attentively, though Fei Ran remained utterly disinterested.

His purpose here lay in the ancient formations and barriers from thousands of years past, drawn by the mysterious figure who’d teleported people from the valley with mere gestures. The remaining responsibilities fell to Leng Xingwen and his team.

Silence followed Yun Yu’s account.

Concern etched his features as he voiced the question haunting them all: "What about my friend? Is he in danger?"

"Will that person harm my brother?" Gu Qian interjected urgently.

"He should be unharmed." Leng Xingwen’s declaration snapped all attention toward him.

"From your account, even if she isn’t a sword cultivator, she’s clearly aligned with righteous Taoist cultivation. Such practitioners rarely slaughter indiscriminately." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Had she wished your friend harm, she’d have kept you all captive. Releasing you suggests a more permanent solution wasn’t necessary."

"Since you were permitted to leave, your friend likely remains safe."

"At worst…"

"At worst what?" Yun Yu’s voice tightened.

"At worst, he might be permanently confined." Leng Xingwen adjusted his glasses. "The white-clad figure – let’s provisionally term her the White Sword Cultivator – appears to guard that site. Her pattern suggests expulsion for those who refrain from touching the Bronze Door, but detention for those who make contact."

"Esteemed cultivators value honor over deception. Immediate execution would be preferable to prolonged imprisonment if death were intended."

"Your friend likely survives. Should we encounter this White Sword Cultivator, retrieval becomes feasible."

The Special Bureau’s protocols mirrored Zhongxia’s diplomatic principles – citizens in peril abroad warranted intervention. Now aware of Gu Cheng’s unexplained confinement, the Bureau’s involvement became inevitable.

This mission served dual purposes. While primary focus remained on establishing contact with the White Sword Cultivator and unraveling the valley’s secrets, the ominous designation "forbidden zone" demanded investigation. Zhongxia couldn’t risk an unstable anomaly within its borders, particularly after Bear country’s ongoing struggles with their emergent Land of the Undead.

Global crises multiplied daily. Major nations barely maintained stability, while smaller countries descended into chaos when confronted with supernatural phenomena. Though traditionally the UN’s most proactive member, Zhongxia’s current domestic crises left little capacity for international aid.

*

Valley interior

Gu Cheng rationed his water between dry biscuit bites, uncertain how long his provisions would last. His captor hadn’t appeared since yesterday. Starvation threatened as grimly as any mystical threat.

"Some infernal noise kept me awake all night," he grumbled, crouching as far from the ominous Bronze Door as possible. The door’s grotesque carvings seemed to writhe in peripheral vision, their bestial forms too lifelike for comfort.

"Few more days here and I’ll be either skeletal or mad."

"Damn lunatic!" His shout echoed through the stone chamber. "If you’re keeping me prisoner, at least state your purpose!" The fading echoes left him slumped defeatedly against cold stone, staring at the mocking serenity of carvings above.

Here, aside from himself, not a single living creature existed. He’d searched in vain for even an insect yesterday – an unnatural stillness permeated this place.

On the valley’s eastern cliff, a woman stood poised with sword in hand, the mountain wind whipping her robes into a frenzy.

"How troublesome. Has confinement of mere hours driven him mad?" Ye Linlang’s sardonic gaze fell upon the ancient Bronze Door looming in the valley below.

"That which lies entombed has slumbered for millennia. It’s not a task even my dear brother could resolve with mere words. Two days confinement seems generous."

"Let him simmer."

Her fingers flicked toward the shimmering barrier encircling the valley, conjuring a water mirror from coalescing mist. The spectral surface rippled to reveal a gathering in the meeting room.

"Prompt arrivals," she mused, lips curving. "But can your little troupe breach my defenses?"

A glint of recognition flashed in her eyes. "Ah… Those piercing eyes. They’ll unravel it." The mirror dissolved into vapor. "No surprise – a formation master wielding All-Seeing Eyes would find child’s play in such barriers."

"Best prepare my entrance. When they shatter the formations, the architect of this game should grace them with presence."

Within the meeting room’s heated confines, debate swirled like winter winds.

"This snowfall began hours ago," Zou Cheng cautioned, gesturing toward frost-rimmed windows. "Meteorologists predict blizzard conditions. Reaching the Eye of Hell requires full day’s travel – we risk everything venturing out now."

Leng Xingwen paced before crackling hearthfire, tapping his folded fan rhythmically against his palm. "While we cultivators could brave the storm, ordinary folk would perish in such cold."

"Wait," Fei Ran’s single word silenced the room.

Yun Yu’s knuckles whitened on his chair’s armrest. He knew protocol demanded silence from junior members, yet desperation edged his voice. "What of Gu Cheng?"

Yang Xingyu rubbed his temples. "We rationed provisions. With proper food intake, he should endure two days. Humans survive weeks without…"

"Cease your physician’s lecture," Bai Ye interrupted. "The real danger lies in traversing knee-deep snow."

"Then melt our path!" Yang Xingyu’s fist struck the oaken table. "Spiritual fire could clear-"

"Fool!" Bai Ye’s hand clamped the strategist’s shoulder. "Uncontrolled spiritual flames would raze entire mountainsides! Your ‘solution’ risks catastrophic wildfires."

The young fire-wielder straightened. "My control’s perfected. I’ll carve precise channels – not a single pine needle need burn."

Zou Cheng’s gaze swept the assembly before settling on Yun Yu. "We depart at dawn’s first light – when snows cease. Forgive our caution, but recklessness serves none."

Yun Yu’s nod held resignation. "I comprehend… though anxiety persists."

Beyond the leaded windows, snow devoured the landscape. Already, crystalline drifts reached boot-top height; by morrow’s light, they’d rise to thigh-level.

In the valley’s frozen heart, Gu Cheng scrambled into his makeshift shelter as first snowflakes fell. Curling into a shivering ball, he marveled at the cold’s intensity – sharper than daggers, deeper than mountain springs.

"Death by freezing… ironic fate for…" His muttering faded as eyelids grew leaden. Whether from cold or unnatural drowsiness, consciousness slipped away.

Darkness enveloped him – not mere absence of light, but primordial void. A susurrating voice coiled through the emptiness: "Come… come…" Limbs moved without volition, carrying him toward unseen purpose.

He awoke buried in snowdrifts, outstretched fingers centimeters from the Bronze Door’s weathered surface.

The door’s grotesque carvings loomed suddenly close – twisted faces screaming silent warnings. With feral cry, Gu Cheng scrambled backward, frost-numbed limbs protesting violently.

Blinking snow from his lashes, he stared bewildered at his collapsed shelter thirty paces distant. "Sleepwalking? But I’ve never…" Fragments of dark dreams resurfaced – the beckoning voice, the compulsion to approach…

Panicked inspection followed. No visible marks from the Bronze Door’s touch, yet… His head snapped upward, scanning cliffs for observers. Finding none, relief proved fleeting – searing pain suddenly lanced through his right leg.