24: Chapter 24 Three Journeys to the East China Sea

Jingzhou, western suburbs, second underground level.

Grayish-green paint covered the entire corridor, and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling grooves were chillingly white.

Laboratory B-07, triple biological safety doors, negative pressure environment.

The bronze piece and the scroll were placed on the magnetic levitation tray in the exact center of the laboratory bench, as quiet as two fakes picked up from Panjiayuan.

It had been six days.

Twelve experts spanning material science, quantum physics, archaeology, and cryptography had taken turns working, eating, and sleeping on folding beds next door.

X-ray diffraction, Raman spectroscopy, neutron activation analysis—every piece of cutting-edge equipment they could think of had been used.

The conclusion was disheartening.

The bronze piece was just ordinary brass.

The scroll was just ordinary silk fabric.

There were no microscopic structural anomalies, nor any hidden nanoscale encoding.

Academician Zhou from the materials group took off his goggles and rubbed his temples.

The sixty-seven-year-old man had been grinding away in this laboratory for four days and four nights, his eye sockets deeply sunken.

"We can't detect anything."

Section Chief Han Zheng stood outside the observation window, staring at the bronze piece through three layers of bulletproof glass.

The instrument readings were flat on the zero line, motionless.

Then, the alarm exploded.

Inside the laboratory, everyone turned their heads abruptly.

On the magnetic levitation tray, the bronze piece was vibrating.

A high-frequency, subtle tremor; the magnetic field balance of the tray was instantly broken.

The bronze piece sprang up from the tray's surface.

It wasn't a bounce.

It was a rising.

A slow, solemn, rhythmic rising—exactly the same as that time at Wang Hao's house.

Golden light seeped out from inside the bronze piece, first from the crevices of the engravings, then from the entire surface.

The bronze piece hovered one meter above the laboratory bench, the golden light seemingly breathing, brightening and dimming, contracting and expanding.

The readings on all the instruments simultaneously spiked to their upper limits, the needles twitching wildly.

"Record! Record everything!"

Academician Zhou put his goggles back on, his hand pressing the start button, though his fingers were shaking. "Save the data from every single instrument for me!"

"What about the temperature? What about radiation?"

"The temperature instantly climbed to one thousand degrees! But radiation is zero! Electromagnetism is zero!"

A young researcher's voice had changed pitch. "This doesn't conform to the conservation of energy! What exactly is this energy—"

"I don't know! My instruments don't have a category for this!"

The laboratory was in chaos.

Section Chief Han Zheng did not go in.

He stood outside the observation window, staring at that mass of golden light; his first reaction was not to research it.

"Where is Wang Hao?"

The subordinate behind him froze for a second. "Reporting to Section Chief Han, he is in Training Room 3."

"Call him here."

Academician Zhou interjected over the internal communicator. "Section Chief Han! We conducted a comprehensive physical examination on Wang Hao; his physical fitness is actually lower than the average for his age, and he has no extraordinary characteristics! From a scientific perspective—"

"Academician Zhou." Section Chief Han Zheng's voice did not get louder, but it cut the other man off.

"Are you trying to talk science with it?"

"Bring Wang Hao over."

Ten minutes later, Wang Hao appeared in the corridor wearing a military-green training uniform.

Sweat hung on his forehead, and his hands were wrapped in boxing bandages, the edges soaked through with sweat.

Ever since he agreed to join The Seventh Division, he had been training every day.

Not because he thought he could become some kind of extraordinary powerhouse.

He just felt that if that day happened again, he couldn't be weaker than the version of himself who stood in front of his wife with a bent steel bar.

"Section Chief Han, another check-up?" Wang Hao walked over while unwinding his bandages. "My blood has almost been drained these past few days—"

Section Chief Han Zheng pulled open the laboratory's heavy isolation door.

Wang Hao's words stuck in his throat.

He saw the bronze piece floating above the laboratory bench, the golden light brightening and dimming, like a beating heart.

His chest felt a sudden heat.

Section Chief Han Zheng noticed it.

He subconsciously pressed his hand against his chest, his pupils dilated, and his breathing changed abruptly.

It was exactly the same as when he saw the golden light at home last time.

"Go in."

Wang Hao swallowed his saliva and walked into the isolation chamber.

As his foot stepped onto the first floor tile, his spine tingled—not from fear.

It was the feeling one gets when staring down into a bottomless well; he wanted to retreat, but his legs wouldn't listen.

All the instruments were instantly aimed at him. The gazes of the twelve top experts followed his footsteps.

The bronze piece hung there.

The pulse frequency of the golden light changed as Wang Hao approached—it sped up.

From once per second, to twice, three times per second!

Academician Zhou's voice came through the communicator, suppressing immense shock. "Heart rate data... it's synchronized! The pulse frequency of the bronze piece is perfectly in sync with Wang Hao's heartbeat!"

Wang Hao stood one meter in front of the bronze piece.

He didn't know why, but he instinctively wanted to reach out and grasp it.

Section Chief Han Zheng shouted from outside the observation window: "Careful!"

"I know."

He reached out his hand.

His fingertips touched the edge of the golden light.

There was no burning, no repulsion.

The light flowed in along his fingertips—or rather, it seemed to be sucked in—surging along his arm toward his chest, converging at the location of his heart.

The area under his clothes on his chest lit up.

A pale golden light shone through the gaps in the fabric fibers, echoing the bronze piece's light at the same frequency.

Just then, the light from the bronze piece suddenly changed.

It was no longer an unordered pulse.

The golden light condensed in the air, turning into characters.

Every stroke was composed of pure golden light, suspended in the air, slowly taking shape.

In the laboratory, everyone froze.

Eighteen hours later.

East Sea.

Spatial fluctuation.

E-Rank Exotic Beast will arrive.

The moment the last character dissipated, the golden light retracted abruptly.

The bronze piece slowly descended, landing lightly back onto the magnetic levitation tray, returning to its dull, gray appearance.

The light on Wang Hao's chest also gradually faded. He stood where he was, his hand still held in the outstretched position.

No one in the laboratory spoke.

All the instruments simultaneously began printing data frantically, the sound of the printers ringing out like machine gun fire in the deathly silence.

Base conference room.

A dozen or so military representatives and researchers who had been pulled in temporarily were crowded around a long table, arguing for a full twenty minutes.

"You believe a few characters that came out of a bronze piece? What if this is psychological warfare by hostile forces?"

The speaker was a naval liaison officer, his hand pressing down on the tabletop. "There are hundreds of ships on the East Sea shipping lanes every day, the main artery of international shipping. If an order is given, who among you will take responsibility?"

"What kind of person can remotely control a piece of bronze to emit light? You try controlling one for me and see?"

The researcher in quantum physics pushed up his glasses, his voice low but his logic firm. "The sample size is too small. One golden light event, a string of data that cannot be reproduced—from a scientific perspective—"

"A week ago, we were also saying the sample size was too small."

The person speaking was sitting in the corner, his voice not loud.

It was the technical safety inspector from the factory where Zhang Tiezhu worked, the man who had waited on the perimeter until 3:00 AM on the night of the incident and had personally helped the workers onto stretchers one by one.

"And what was the result? Twenty-three people almost died in the factory."

He didn't say a second sentence.

But the volume in the conference room dropped a notch.

Section Chief Han Zheng sat at the end of the long table.

He hadn't spoken the whole time, twirling the encrypted communication pen in his hand, and only stood up after all the noise had died down.

"If, eighteen hours later, that thing really appears in the East Sea—"

His gaze swept from left to right.

"Who can take responsibility?"

No one answered.

"I have already reported it. The highest directive is: better to prepare for ten events and have nine come to nothing than to fail to prepare for the one that matters."

He stood the communication pen upright on the table; it made a crisp sound.

"Starting now. First, notify the Maritime Safety Administration to immediately implement temporary navigation control for a fifty-nautical-mile radius around the coordinates predicted by the bronze piece, under the guise of a military exercise."

"Second, the East Sea Fleet will dispatch three destroyers to form a formation to control the perimeter, and all civilian vessels must be cleared within twelve hours."

"Third, the three coastal cities will activate the highest level of earthquake and tsunami warning mechanisms, with the official explanation being abnormal geological activity."

"Fourth..."

He looked toward Wang Hao, who had been silent in the corner.

"You, come with me."

Wang Hao looked down at his hands. A faint, lingering warmth still remained on his fingertips.

He remembered how Chen Xiaohui looked, crouching in the corner protecting her belly.

He remembered Huzi riding on his shoulders, shouting, "Daddy is Ultraman."

He remembered those ancestors in the golden light—wearing coarse tunics, farming and blacksmithing, faces turned toward the yellow earth just like his—passing that bronze piece from one pair of hands to the next, generation after generation.

Pass it on.

Pass it on.

Pass it on.

Wang Hao stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a short sound.

"I'll go."