48: Chapter 48 Roy King's Letter

At two in the morning, Iron Cross Street was shrouded in a heavy fog, so thick it seemed impossible to disperse.

Leonard Mitchell was on his routine patrol along the east road of the old Textile Factory. His flashlight beam was dim, barely piercing the Darkness a few meters ahead of him.

He stopped before the iron railing at the back door of the Pumping Station and swept his hand over the Sealed Artifact symbol on the bars.

The symbol was intact, the wax seal smooth, without a single crack.

After confirming everything was in order, he continued on. His leather boots clicked against the stone pavement, creating a rhythmic and monotonous echo that reverberated through the silent street.

Upon reaching the middle of the alley, Leonard suddenly turned off his flashlight.

No strange noises came, only a trace of an unusual scent that quietly crept into his perception.

It was the smell of blood. Extremely faint, dissolved in the humidity of the night fog, almost imperceptible.

But this unfamiliar scent made his spirituality tighten instantly.

Leonard lowered his body, hugging the wall as he advanced quietly. His left hand drew the standard-issue short staff from behind his waist, holding it in readiness.

At the end of the alley, the old iron gate leading to the Textile Factory ruins stood half-open.

It had been sealed with a standard Nighthawks seal, which should have been firmly locked, but now, the wax at the edges of the seal was slowly dripping.

The marks clearly indicated that it hadn't been torn open by external force, but had been slowly melted through from inside the gate by high heat.

Leonard used his short staff to gently push open the iron gate; the old hinge let out a faint groan, instantly swallowed by the thick fog.

Inside the ruins' courtyard, a person lay on the ground.

That person was curled up beside the concrete base of an abandoned steam engine, a small patch of dark blood spreading beneath him, slowly soaking into the ground.

Across the palm of his left hand was a deep, old scar that ran from the web of his thumb through the entire palm.

Leonard knelt on one knee and checked the person's pulse.

It was still beating, but extremely weakly, and the fluctuations of the spirituality circuit were almost completely silent.

Especially the skin of that old scar, which was bone-chillingly cold, not at all like the body temperature of a living person.

He sheathed his short staff and pulled out the copper whistle at his waist, blowing it.

The clear, resonant whistle pierced through the layers of night fog, drifting into the distance.

Within a few minutes, Dunn Smith and Daly Simone arrived at the scene.

Before even entering, Daly Simone put on her Spirit Medium gloves. The silver-patterned rings on her fingertips rippled with a faint blue light in the mist.

She crouched beside the injured person, hovering her palm over his chest.

Wisps of Spirit Medium light spilled from her fingertips, slowly seeping into the shattered spirituality circuit.

A moment later, Daly Simone withdrew her hand.

"His spirituality circuit is collapsing rapidly, and his consciousness has shattered into several pieces." She lowered her voice, her tone grave. "The person who did this was extremely precise, avoiding all vital physical points and targeting only the core of the spirituality circuit."

"It's like finding the main circuit breaker and pressing it gently to completely sever all connections."

Dunn Smith asked in a low voice, "Is there any saving him?"

Daly Simone did not answer immediately.

Her fingertips plucked gently in the void, as if stroking an invisible spiritual string.

A Spirit Medium's spiritual soothing was the last lifeline for a dying Beyonder. It could use external spiritual resonance to stabilize a spirituality circuit that was about to snap.

At this moment, the injured man's spirituality was already shattered like broken glass, but between the fragments, subtle spiritual connections still remained.

Daly Simone's fingertips tapped slowly; each light touch built a bridge of shimmering resonance between the broken circuits.

Threads of fine blue light acted like sutures, stitching the broken spirituality back together bit by bit.

After a long time, a low, weak groan escaped from the throat of the injured man on the ground.

Dunn Smith dimmed his flashlight and leaned in to illuminate the person's face.

Pale and gaunt, with deep-set eye sockets, cracked lips, and the whites of his left eye covered in dense red bloodshot veins.

It was Ince Zangwill.

A fine drizzle covered the entire Tingen City.

Ince Zangwill was taken to the confinement cell on the first underground floor of the Nighthawks headquarters.

Leonard Mitchell returned after escorting him, walking through the cool corridor. He took off his raincoat, which was soaked by the rain, and took the dry towel handed to him by Daly Simone to wipe away the moisture.

"There were clear signs of a struggle at the Textile Factory ruins, but Roy King was long gone."

He opened his patrol log and placed it on Dunn Smith's desk.

"A broken snake-patterned ritual dagger was left at the scene, and Old Neil has already taken it for analysis."

"Also, the old scar on Ince Zangwill's left palm had been precisely burned by spiritual flames. It didn't damage the spirituality circuit, only scorched the surface of the scar; it's an extremely concealed tracking mark."

At the door of the confinement cell, Daly Simone raised her hand, hovering her palm outside the peephole of the iron door.

Pale blue spiritual tentacles of a Spirit Medium extended from her fingertips, silently seeping into the confinement cell.

Inside the iron door, Ince Zangwill's spiritual fluctuations were weak but had already stabilized.

A moment later, she withdrew her hand and said in a low voice:

"His spirituality circuit suffered heavy damage, but there is no fatal injury."

"The person who attacked him had control over power that was refined to the extreme; either their Sequence level is extremely high, or their Pathway is inherently adept at such precise operations."

Dunn Smith nodded slightly: "How long until he wakes up completely?"

"Soon."

"I completed the initial spiritual soothing at the Textile Factory scene; his shattered spirit has basically finished fusing, and now only ordinary flesh wounds remain."

Inside the confinement cell, the iron frame bed was cold and hard.

Ince Zangwill lay quietly, the old scar on his left palm already properly bandaged.

About an hour later, he slowly opened his eyes, his voice hoarse and low as he spat out the first name.

"Roy King."

Dunn Smith stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze calm: "Where is he?"

"Last night, he was lying in wait in the Pumping Station power distribution room."

Ince Zangwill panted slightly, his speaking pace slow and difficult.

"His target was the backup rune fragments I hid there, three Antigonus Sealed Artifact fragments, and that snake-patterned dagger... the very one Old Neil found in the ruins."

He raised his right hand, gently rubbing the bandage on his palm.

"That night at the Hoi Family banquet, he used a Substitute rune in advance."

"This secret technique requires implanting a homologous snake emblem mark on a living person beforehand; the moment the seal is triggered, all damage and backlash can be completely transferred."

"He found a debt-ridden bottom-tier thug on Iron Cross Street and carved the snake emblem onto the back of the person's neck."

"The substitute took the full force of the silver snake key's sealing power for him. Taking advantage of the chaos in the seal and the interference with everyone's spiritual perception, he quietly escaped the Hoi Mansion through the side door of the secret room."

Dunn Smith was silent for a moment, then raised a point of doubt:

"The carving technique for the Substitute rune is not recorded in the public documents of Antigonus. Where did he learn it?"

"It wasn't learned; it's a bloodline inheritance."

Ince Zangwill coughed lightly and continued to explain.

"He has thin traces of the Antigonus bloodline in his body; the purity isn't high, but it's enough for him to naturally master some family secret techniques, and the Substitute rune is one of them."

"On the day of the annual banquet, he said one thing to me—'The backup runes you carved were all created by my ancestors. If you borrow items from my clan, you must pay them back with interest.'"

"After the banquet, he never left Tingen; he has been hiding in this city all along."

"The consecutive cases of missing homeless people at the East Borough wharf were all him looking for living test subjects for the substitute secret technique."

"I have reviewed the team's anomaly records; at least three of the missing persons' cases occurred at locations no more than five hundred meters from his hiding spot."

Dunn Smith turned his head and exchanged a glance with Daly Simone at the door.

The files on the missing persons cases that Leonard Mitchell had previously reviewed were still lying on the coffee table in the lounge, the records clear and distinct: all the missing persons had identical burn marks on the back of their necks, which were exactly a corner of the snake-ring rune.

The morning after Ince Zangwill was transferred to the second underground floor confinement cell, an anonymous letter appeared abruptly at the entrance of Blackthorn Security Company.

It was a plain kraft paper envelope, with no stamp and no postmark, only a line of neat Hermes script: To the Nighthawks.

Rozanne held the envelope with tweezers and carefully delivered it to Dunn Smith's desk, where the latest preliminary spiritual inspection report was placed beside it.

The test results showed no residual contamination on the surface of the envelope.

However, a layer of extremely faint spiritual fluctuation was attached to the letter paper, its frequency perfectly synchronized with the aftershocks of the seal outside Chanis Gate.

Dunn Smith put on anti-contamination gloves and slowly opened the envelope.

The handwriting on the letter was identical to the rune handwriting on the half-finished twelve-pointed star array in the secret room of the Hoi mansion.

The strokes were solid and neat, and the endings of the strokes carried the upward-curving hook unique to Antigonus engravers; the spacing between every letter had been precisely calculated.

The content of the letter was short, with every word carrying a flamboyant provocation.

[Respected Tingen Nighthawks Squad: Thanks to your team's 'hospitality' at the Hoi annual banquet, I will keep it in mind. I hereby announce that on the seventh day after the full moon, at the third section of the Iron Cross Street underground drainage branch, I will demonstrate the complete version of the Spirit Descent Ritual for you all. I hope you will all attend on time. P.S.: Please prepare in advance the three Sealed Artifact fragments that Ince Zangwill owes me. This is a debt, not a request. — Roy King]

Dunn Smith placed the letter gently on the desktop, his eyes grave.

"The seventh day after the full moon is exactly the critical point when the fungus root system's dormancy ends."

"This letter is not just a provocation; it is telling us that he has a thorough understanding of the status of all the seal nodes on Iron Cross Street."

"He knows the time of the fungus's reactivation, and he also knows that we have recently been recalibrating the seventh sensing node of the outer ring."

Old Neil picked up the letter and examined it carefully against the light for a moment.

"The ink is just ordinary carbon ink mixed with a trace amount of blood."

"He deliberately left his own spiritual characteristics as a signature; it was by no means an oversight, but a blatant show of defiance."

"He is telling us that he has been hiding in Tingen all along, right under our noses."

"Furthermore, at the moment the letter was delivered, the dormant fungus root system had already completely reactivated."

"This morning's monitoring data shows that the temperature of the third branch pipe has risen slightly; the increase is weak, but the trend is clear."

Dunn Smith stood up and walked to the map of Tingen City on the wall.

A red pen fell, circling three key locations: the third drainage branch of Iron Cross Street, the seventh sensing node of the outer ring, and the old Textile Factory ruins.

The three circled areas overlapped, perfectly encompassing a two-hundred-meter radius around the Pumping Station power distribution room.

"From now on, completely seal off the Iron Cross Street underground drainage system, and add two-person posts at all entrances and exits, with 24-hour surveillance."

"Leonard Mitchell, Daly Simone, you are responsible for monitoring the seventh sensing node of the outer ring; rotate every two hours. If you find any abnormalities in temperature or spirituality, report them immediately."

"Klein Moretti, Lu Li, go to the third branch pipe, re-sample and test the fungus activity, and update the data records."

"I will guard the main seal of Chanis Gate; the silver snake key will be sealed in the safe and will not be used for the time being."

"Roy King deliberately mentioned Ince Zangwill's debt to induce us to conduct an in-depth investigation of the old seal traces. The more carefully we check, the more likely the seal system is to develop subtle flaws, which would just give him an opportunity."

Everyone accepted their orders and went to their respective duties.

Nightfall slowly descended, and Tingen's rain clouds hung lower and darker.

The gas streetlights on Iron Cross Street were wrapped in thick fog, turning into clusters of hazy, dim yellow halos.

Deep in the dark drainage branch, phosphorescent stones cast a cold white light, illuminating the quietly reactivating and slowly spreading fungus hyphae on the stone walls.

Klein Moretti crouched at the end of the branch pipe, holding a flashlight, scanning the damp stone wall inch by inch.

Above the long-dormant root system, tender white hyphae broke through the soil and extended, winding along the cracks in the stone bricks.

He placed the Spirit Medium compass close to the area where the hyphae were densest, and the needle swayed slightly from side to side.

The degree of deflection was already twice that of the last test.

He quickly recorded the data and handed the log to Lu Li beside him.

"The spiritual activity of the hyphae has recovered to one-third of the level before dormancy."

"The temperature curve continues to rise, with the core area of the concentric circle half a degree higher than the periphery, and the state has completely reversed."

"It used to be heat-gathering at the center, but now it is heat-releasing at the center."

Lu Li leaned over, his fingertips hovering a few centimeters close to the center of the circle on the stone wall.

Relying on the extreme sensitivity to thermal energy of the Theft Pathway, he clearly captured a faint warmth continuously spreading outward.

The flow was completely reversed.

The spirituality was no longer converging inward, but radiating outward from the center, spreading in layers.

"The fungus is channeling spirituality to the entire pipeline." Lu Li raised his eyes, his tone steady.

"The final direction of the spread points directly to the seventh sensing node of the outer ring."

The two exchanged a glance, their expressions grave.

They quickly packed up the testing equipment, turned around, and walked quickly out of the depths of the pipe.

In front of the Pumping Station iron gate, Leonard Mitchell stared intently at the monitoring instrument in front of him.

On the screen, the temperature curve was climbing steadily at a slow but stable rate.

He looked up at the lead-gray, gloomy sky and clicked his tongue in a low voice.

At the same time, in the East Borough of Tingen, on the third floor of an abandoned apartment next to the old Hoi River wharf.

Megose stood by the window at the end of the corridor, holding a paper crane in her hand, which was surrounded by a faint cyan-green spiritual light.

She slowly unfolded the paper crane; the paper contained only a line of ancient Hermes script.

[The Tingen Nighthawks have received the notice. The fungus root system has reactivated on schedule. On the seventh day after the full moon, Iron Cross Street, the ritual begins.]

The signature of the paper crane was a hand-drawn snake-ring pattern.

Megose refolded the paper crane and tucked it securely into the inside of her bodice.

Her gaze crossed the gray river outside the window and fell on the dark, towering bell tower spire of Saint Selena Cathedral on the west bank.

In the deep shadows behind her, several hooded Aurora Order believers stood silently, bowing their heads and wiping the ritual daggers in their hands.

The Antigonus snake patterns engraved on the blades glinted with a dark, cold light in the weak daylight.

The night fog of Iron Cross Street became increasingly thick and dark.

The faint spiritual shimmer remaining on the letter paper flickered quietly in the Darkness, unnoticed by anyone.