104: Chapter 105 The Old Track

The sound of the knock was very light, yet it felt like it struck the nerves of everyone.

The grey wind on the surface of the bridge seemed to freeze for an instant.

Qiao Ye gripped the shield handle tightly, while the three old spikes of Wen Zhao emitted a faint tremor simultaneously; even the blood lines in the fire wire box retreated by half a fraction.

"There is... something down there?" Qiao Ye spoke in a voice extremely low, as if he feared disturbing the darkness beneath the bridge.

Ning Yanqiu did not retract the Cold Mirror Auxiliary Seal; instead, she pressed it down another three inches.

The cold white light shone into the maintenance slot beneath the bridge, and the copper-black old track shimmered with the rust of ages in the halo, resembling a sleeping snake.

Yet, after that knock just now, a new mark had appeared on the old track—it was very fine, as if something had just slid across it.

Lu Jin stared at the mark, black fire silently circling between his fingers.

"It is not a living creature," he said, "The accumulated dust in the track gap was shaken down by the wind."

Wen Zhao shook his head: "Accumulated dust cannot collapse so evenly. This mark is straight, like..." He paused, leaving the rest unsaid. Like someone had given it a push from inside.

Instructor Han Tiecheng's iron fire order was suspended outside the door, its fire patterns already glowing once more: "A quarter of an hour has passed. No matter what is down there, retreat first."

Lu Jin did not move. He looked down at the half-plate plaque, the rat-tooth copper spikes on its back shimmering with a dark red hue under the faint light of the fire platform.

The arrangement of those copper spikes did not look like it was for fastening; instead, it resembled some kind of gear sequence—identical to the holes in the maintenance slot beneath the bridge.

"This bridge was not built for people to walk on," Lu Jin suddenly said.

Wu Fu was applying medicine to the wing bones of Night Wing; upon hearing this, she looked up: "What do you mean?"

"It is a material transport track," Lu Jin said, his fingers tracing the edge of the plaque, "The rat-folk craftsmen built an underground slot beneath the bridge; they were not repairing the bridge, but the track. People walk on the Lock Bridge, while materials move underneath. In the past, the fire supply for the Outer Fire Well was transported up through this track."

Grey Pupil's cane paused: "So the broken slot did not collapse; it was dismantled by someone from below."

"Who dismantled it?" Qiao Ye asked.

No one answered.

Wen Zhao pried the old spikes from the surface of the bridge, his movements very light, fearing he might disturb something.

All three old spikes were damaged; the body of the first spike was as thin as paper, the second had cracks at the tail, and the third still had that speck of black-grey blood on its tip. He tucked the spikes into the bottom layer of his leather pouch, placing them alongside the other three old spikes.

"There are three old spikes left," Wen Zhao said, "Further down, we must switch to a new method."

Lu Jin nodded. He looked toward the grey-red fire mist behind the door; the half-door anchor was still nailed above the broken slot, like a thorn wedged into the darkness.

The anchor line was very thin, only enough for a single person with low fire to pass, but it had, after all, connected the path.

"Retreat," Lu Jin finally said.

Qiao Ye breathed a sigh of relief, pulling the shield base out from the bridge gap, bringing a puff of grey dust with it. He took one last look at the dark slot beneath the bridge, then turned and followed Wen Zhao back.

Ning Yanqiu retracted her mirror, and Master Crow shrank back behind her shoulder, its wing edges still stained with a bit of cold dust from the Grey Fire Well.

Wu Fu carried Night Wing back to the carrier; the little creature still had the taste of the copper-black plaque in its mouth, its claws grasping vaguely at the air, seemingly still wanting to explore the underside of the bridge.

Wu Fu slapped it on the head: "Explore again, and I will dismantle your wing bones to use as spikes."

Night Wing let out a wronged cry and retreated into the corner of the carrier.

The group retreated to the threshold one by one. Lu Jin brought up the rear, his black fire circling along the half-door anchor to stabilize the anchor line at a position three steps behind the door before he retracted the door seal.

The ancient Royal Court door closed back to the half-line, the gap narrowing, and the grey wind was pushed back into the outer ring, like an unwilling beast panting softly behind the door.

Instructor Han Tiecheng watched them retreat; the record on the iron fire order did not stop: "Bridge line nailed, deep-entry order temporarily sealed. Lu Jin, the next leg of your vanguard line will be decided after the three parties reach a consensus."

Lu Jin had no objections. He knew Instructor Han Tiecheng was right—the four words Ding Gu Workshop were too heavy, too heavy for a single vanguard line to handle alone.

The Temple Inspector stood at the observation position, but his gaze kept darting back to the plaque. He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, he only lowered his head to make a note in the platinum ledger, the handwriting heavier than usual.

Pei Chengxu stood beside the Inspector, the signaling fire at his cuff flickering slightly. He looked at Lu Jin, his gaze shifting between the plaque and the cuff of Lu Jin before retracting as if nothing had happened.

Lu Jin noticed, but he ignored it.

He handed the plaque to Wen Zhao: "Enter a secret note. For the public record, write only 'Lock Bridge old plaque, pending verification'."

Wen Zhao took it, his fingertips lingering for an instant on the row of rat-tooth copper spikes on the back of the plaque: "What should the secret note say?"

Lu Jin looked at the grey-red darkness behind the half-line door, his voice calm: "Write Ding Gu Workshop. Write that the old track is not broken. Write..." He paused, "Someone has dismantled the path below."

Wen Zhao looked up.

Lu Jin did not explain. He turned and walked to the fire platform, taking out the Grey Fire Well thin sheet; the return line on the edge of the sheet was still glowing, pointing in the direction of the broken slot of the Lock Bridge.

And on the back of the sheet, at some unknown point, a fine mark had appeared, as if it had been lightly scratched by something. That mark and the new mark on the old track beneath the bridge were in the same direction.

Ning Yanqiu walked to his side, the Cold Mirror Auxiliary Seal glowing faintly at her cuff. She did not look at the thin sheet, only saying in a low voice: "The signaling fire of Pei Chengxu has moved."

"I know."

"He is reporting to Young Master Pei Tiange."

"Reporting or not makes no difference," Lu Jin said, tucking the thin sheet back into the deepest layer of the fire platform, "The plaque is in our hands, and the anchor line is under our feet. If the Pei family wants to come in, they will have to wait in line."

The corners of the mouth of Ning Yanqiu seemed to curve, then quickly flattened. She raised her hand, and Master Crow spread its wings, shielding her from a gaze cast from outside the door—it was the observation deacon beside the Temple Inspector, who was secretly sizing them up.

"What is next?" Ning Yanqiu asked.

Lu Jin looked toward the back of the fire platform.

The empty bone carriage was still trembling gently; the resonance after the plaque entered the fire had not stopped, only become extremely faint, like a heartbeat.

On the frame of the carriage, in a previously blank area, a very faint copper-black pattern slowly emerged, identical to the rat-tooth copper spikes on the plaque.

Wu Fu saw it too; she clutched the carrier, her eyes wide: "The carriage... is growing bones?"

Grey Pupil walked to the carriage, his cane pressing against the bottom of the frame, and the Sacrificial Fire seeped in along the tip of the cane. A moment later, he retracted his cane, his expression darker than before: "It is not growing bones. The carriage is recognizing the path."

"Recognizing the path?" Qiao Ye leaned in, "What path?"

Grey Pupil looked toward the area behind the half-line door: "Recognizing the path to the Ding Gu Workshop. This carriage came out from that old track years ago; now that it smells the scent of the old track, it wants to go back."

Wen Zhao was organizing the Line-Marking Nails; upon hearing this, his movements paused: "You mean... this empty bone carriage is a material transport vehicle from the workshop?"

"It once was," Grey Pupil said, "Later, someone unloaded it from the old track and threw it into the Outer Fire Well. Now that the track is not yet broken, the carriage wants to return to its place."

Lu Jin stared at the copper-black pattern on the carriage, suddenly reaching out to press his hand into the center of the frame.

Black fire surged from his palm, sinking into the carriage. The carriage emitted a low hum, like some beast that had slept for many years being awakened.

The copper-black pattern suddenly brightened, then dimmed again, but the direction of the pattern had become much clearer—it pointed deep into the Outer Fire Well, toward the end of the old track, toward the darkness that even the half-door anchor could not reach.

"It is not the carriage that wants to return," Lu Jin retracted his hand, his voice very low, "It is something inside the workshop, calling for this carriage to return."

The fire platform fell silent.

Wu Fu clutched the carrier tightly, and Night Wing curled into a ball in her arms. Qiao Ye subconsciously gripped his shield handle, while the fingers of Wen Zhao clamped onto the old spikes in his leather pouch. The Cold Mirror Auxiliary Seal of Ning Yanqiu lit up silently, and the wing edges of Master Crow spread slightly, like a blade poised to strike.

The iron fire order of Instructor Han Tiecheng suddenly emitted a sharp cry.

The combat record on the face of the order turned a page automatically, and a new line of text emerged from the fire patterns—not written by Instructor Han Tiecheng, but pressed down directly from the higher-level Military Court fire seal—

"Ding Gu Workshop old case reopened. Outer ring deep-entry order, postponed by three days."

Instructor Han Tiecheng stared at that line of text, his brows furrowed tightly.

Lu Jin, however, smiled, though the smile did not reach his eyes.

Postponed by three days meant that all three parties would have to pile their chips onto this old line within these three days. The Pei family, the Temple, the Military Court, and the thing hiding deep in the Outer Fire Well that had not yet appeared—all of them would have to squeeze through this half-door.

He looked down at his own palm.

Within the black fire, a trace of the tremor from when the carriage resonated still lingered. The frequency of that tremor, the pulse of the half-door anchor behind the door, the return line on the Grey Fire Well thin sheet, and even the drop of black-grey blood on the old spike that had not yet dried... they were all the same.

They were all connected on the same line.

Wen Zhao walked to his side and said in a low voice: "Three days from now, the next leg."

"Three days from now," Lu Jin repeated, looking up at the grey-red mist behind the half-line door, "The next leg, enter the workshop."

Qiao Ye slammed his shield onto the ground and grinned: "Then I need to reinforce my shield during these three days. Those three gusts of well wind just now scraped all the grey glue out of my shield."

"I will help you repair it," Wu Fu suddenly said.

Qiao Ye was stunned: "Since when are you so kind?"

"Six times the material cost," Wu Fu said expressionlessly, "You pay."

"...Lu Jin pays."

"Lu Jin only pays for Night Wing's."

Qiao Ye looked at Wen Zhao, but Wen Zhao had already turned away to organize his fire wire box, leaving only the back of his head visible. He looked at Ning Yanqiu, but she was busy cleaning the dust from the wing edges of Master Crow, seemingly having heard nothing.

Qiao Ye sighed and hoisted his shield back onto his shoulder: "Fine, I will pay. Anyway, my life is almost over, so there is no point in keeping the material money."

The group dispersed one after another, leaving only Lu Jin and Grey Pupil in front of the fire platform.

Grey Pupil looked at the empty bone carriage and suddenly asked: "When the carriage resonated, what did you feel?"

Lu Jin did not answer immediately. He looked at the half-line behind the door, at the depths of the grey-red fire mist, as if he could see through the mist, see that copper-black old track, and see the tightly closed workshop door at the end of the track.

"I felt..." he said slowly, "Someone is waiting for me."

Grey Pupil looked up.

Lu Jin retracted his gaze and turned to walk into the inner side of the fire platform: "Or rather, waiting for the former owner of this carriage."

The cane of Grey Pupil tapped lightly on the ground, and he did not press further.

Behind the half-line door, the grey wind blew softly once more.

This time, there was a faint hint of copper rust in the wind, as if it had drifted up from a very far place, following the old track.

And within that hint of copper rust, there was another scent mixed in.

The scent of blood.

Identical to that drop of black-grey blood on the old spike.