69: Chapter 69: The Ancient Tree Trial Begins! He has already written two sequences.

Henry sat at the base of the wall, his back against the brick surface shattered by artillery shells.

The blue light of his phone screen illuminated his face; the contours of his cheekbones were more prominent than they had been three days ago.

The encrypted call went through only after the second attempt.

"Professor!"

Marcus's voice squeezed in from Zurich, traveling across more than half the planet, carrying an irrepressible anxiety.

"The authorities are saying it was an 8.2 magnitude earthquake—are you alright? When are you coming back? The ethics approval for the Phase III clinical trials is next week..."

"Marcus."

The student fell silent.

Henry stared at a crater in the distance that had collected a bit of rainwater, the moonlight falling onto the surface, fragmented.

"You will lead the team to complete the Phase III clinical trial for the immune checkpoint inhibitor."

There was a dead silence on the other end of the line for three seconds.

"Teacher, what are you saying?"

"I am not returning to Zurich."

Marcus wanted to persuade him. He opened his mouth twice.

But he had followed Henry for nine years and knew this man too well. Just like his sudden decision to fly to the War Zone to serve as a battlefield doctor, once he had decided on something, not even the explosion of the Earth could change it.

"...Is it dangerous?"

Henry thought of the image of the sky splitting open. He thought of Isaac lying on top of him, with sheet metal and broken bricks pressing down on both of them, that faint, shallow breathing against his ear. He thought of that twelve-year-old child, asking him before his pupils dilated— "Am I going to die soon too?"

He smiled. His voice was very soft.

"Marcus, if you could trade ten years of your life for a drug that could cure any disease—would you be willing?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

Henry said, "I am currently on the path to obtaining this drug. Don't worry, I am doing well."

Finally, he took that photograph out of his shirt pocket. Isaac's wife and son, smiling, in some sunny courtyard.

"Help me find someone. Isaac Abdullah. His wife's name is Sarah, and his son's name is Yusuf. In my personal name, donate ten million."

He paused for a beat. "He protected me."

He hung up. The phone screen went dark, and the moonlight reclaimed this ruin.

Henry folded the photo and tucked it back into his inner pocket along with the bronze piece. The surface of the photo still held his body heat, while the bronze piece had already gone cold. Both items pressed against his chest, one light and one heavy.

Jingzhou, Siheyuan. The first thing Lin Xiaoman did after coming out of the teleportation array—was to rush into the bathroom.

The door closed, the lock turned all the way, and she slid down the door panel to the floor.

The hot water was turned on, and the sound of the showerhead drowned out everything else.

She crouched under the water, hugging her knees. The water washed away the mud, washed away the blood, washed away the brown stains of iodine, and washed away that sickeningly sweet smell of gangrene from the War Zone.

But the things it couldn't wash away remained in her mind. The boy who drew houses with mud. The body losing its warmth lying in iodine. The feeling of closing her eyes and waiting for death the second the sickle came down.

She cried. Without a sound. Water fell from the showerhead and her eyes at the same time, making it impossible to distinguish which was hot water and which were tears.

Five minutes, five whole minutes. Then she stood up, turned off the water, dried her hair, and changed into a clean hoodie. She lay on the bed in her room, burying her face in the pillow.

The scent of laundry detergent entered her nose. Clean. Safe. Alive.

She fell asleep in three seconds.

When she woke up, it was already evening. The sky outside the window had changed from gray-blue to dark orange, and the eaves of the Siheyuan cut out a black silhouette.

Lin Xiaoman sat on the edge of the bed, dazed for a while. She took the bronze piece out from under the pillow. The two characters "Kindling" shimmered with a dull luster in the twilight.

She clenched it, the metal edge pressing into her palm. Those images from the War Zone flooded back. But this time, Lin Xiaoman did not close her eyes. She stared at the two characters on the bronze piece for a long time.

Then she stood up, stuffed the bronze piece into her hoodie pocket, and zipped it up. "Today, it's today."

Torch Base. The moment Lin Xiaoman took her first step into the stone corridor, she knew—something was different.

The concentration of golden light in the air had increased at least threefold. With every breath, she could feel fine energy particles brushing against her nasal cavity and throat; they were warm, carrying a faint tingling sensation like an electric current across her fingertips.

The ancient tree's rhythmic breathing was deeper and steadier, the interval between each expansion and contraction lengthened by a full second, like a larger heart beating.

Passing through the stone corridor, she stepped into the altar plaza. She stopped. To the right of the altar—was the area that used to be a virtual projection of ruins. Collapsed palaces, shattered domes, overturned statues.

Now, that area had turned into a circular Training Grounds. The stone tile floor was polished even smoother than the altar.

Twelve stone boundary pillars, half a person's height, stood at equal intervals around the perimeter. Each pillar top was embedded with a fist-sized golden crystal, its light soft and steady, illuminating the entire Training Grounds clearly. It was real. Stepping onto it, she could feel the roughness of the stone joints.

Su Chen stood at the edge of the Training Grounds. He wasn't wearing a mask, his trench coat was open, and his twenty-five-year-old face looked ridiculously young under the golden light.

In the center of the Training Grounds, a silver-white figure was moving. Liu Yuyan. She was fully armed in silver-white armor, the Sword of Judgment held high above her head.

She held her breath. Mental energy and physical stamina were being drained simultaneously, like two rivers pouring backward into the sword's blade. The holy runes began to light up from the hilt, section by section; by the time the light reached the tip, the air around the blade twisted into visible ripples.

A wave of heat rushed from fifteen meters away onto Lin Xiaoman's face. Liu Yuyan gritted her teeth. She swung. A golden sword aura swept out.

A crescent-shaped curtain of light, three meters wide and half a foot thick, cut across the ground, carrying a scorching aura of holy light. The stone tiles split down the center line.

The crack extended straight for fifteen meters until it hit the spatial barrier, exploding into a sky full of golden fragments that floated in the air like a reverse meteor shower.

Lin Xiaoman's feet were nailed to the ground, her mouth hanging open for three seconds without closing. "...This is too intense."

Liu Yuyan knelt on one knee, panting heavily. The holy runes dimmed by more than half. Su Chen walked over, his pace unhurried.

"You have started to master it." Liu Yuyan stood up using her sword for support, her back straight, "The consumption is too great; one slash and I'm almost bottomed out."

"You can refine it slowly later." Su Chen's tone was as casual as if he were talking about the weather, "Use the least amount of force to deal the maximum amount of damage. You can't rush it."

"Yes, President." Lin Xiaoman hopped down from the stone steps and trotted over, circling the fifteen-meter-long crack twice, her eyes bright enough to act as a flashlight.

"Sister Yuyan, is this the power of a Tier 2? One sword slash is like driving an excavator!"

Liu Yuyan glanced at her. The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn't respond.

Su Chen withdrew his gaze from the crack and let it fall on Lin Xiaoman. "Are you ready?"

Lin Xiaoman froze for half a second. Then she nodded vigorously, her twin tails swaying along with her. "I've waited too long for this moment." She paused. "What about Professor Henry? Will he come?"

Su Chen turned his head to look at the teleportation array beside the ancient tree. "He will come."

Before his words had even finished, the golden light of the teleportation array flared up. A beam of light rose from the center of the array and then slowly receded. The figure of Henry Bernstein walked out from the light.

He had changed into a clean white shirt, but the dark circles under his eyes and the gauntness of his cheekbones could not be hidden. He had a new pair of gold-rimmed glasses—the old pair had a broken leg, which he had wrapped with medical tape, but in the end, he had thrown them away.

The blue-gray eyes behind the lenses were different from three days ago. No more confusion, no more hesitation. Only clarity remained.

"Professor, you're here!" Lin Xiaoman waved. Henry nodded, his gaze finally landing on Su Chen.

Su Chen stood beneath the ancient tree, not wearing a mask, the light from the pale golden sky falling on his shoulders.

"Lin Xiaoman." Her back straightened. "You completed the Kindling communication network, stood up in the ruins of the War Zone, and protected the people around you with your own hands."

Lin Xiaoman's lips pressed tight. Her eyes grew hot for a moment, but she forced the feeling back.

"Henry." Su Chen turned to him. "You did what Kindling should do in the War Zone. In the refugee camp, there are no nationalities, only humans." He paused for a beat. "You did very well."

Henry's Adam's apple bobbed. Sixty-two years, Nobel Prize acceptance speeches, honorary certificates from twenty-six universities, acknowledgments for citations in two hundred and thirty-seven papers. He stood beneath this glowing ancient tree, hearing a twenty-five-year-old young man say four words, yet his fingers tightened around the bronze piece in his shirt pocket.

Su Chen withdrew his gaze from the two of them and looked up at the ancient tree. The dark golden branches stretched out under the sky, the leaves expanding and contracting, the pulse of golden light stable and long.

"Let the ancient tree trial begin."

Lin Xiaoman gripped the bronze piece tightly, her palms sweating. She had seen what Liu Yuyan looked like during the trial—a golden beam of light shooting into the sky, the person lifted into mid-air, their soul pulled into another person's life. She knew all too well what that meant.

Henry stood to the side, his face calm. But his fingertips unconsciously brushed the spot on his shirt pocket.

Su Chen stood with his back to the two of them, facing the ancient tree. He placed his right hand against the dark golden trunk, and the familiar pulse came from his palm. He did not look back, the corners of his mouth curling up unconsciously. Two trials. Two sequences. The script had already been written.