52: Chapter 52 Talismans

The distant, heavy tolling of a bell penetrated layers of brick and stone, descending deep into the dark drainage branch.

The surrounding air suddenly stagnated, becoming as viscous as blood-soaked mud.

The concentric circles of mold layered on the stone wall vibrated in unison. The three fungal bands, varying in depth, acted like old strings plucked by invisible fingertips, emitting an almost imperceptible low-frequency hum—fragmented, eerie, and penetrating the rock strata.

Lu Li knelt halfway beside the outermost blocking rune, the cold white beam of his flashlight fixed steadily on the damp stone wall.

The blurry human face evolved from the interwoven mycelium was slowly turning.

It avoided the vigilant Leonard beside it, ignoring all traces of living beings nearby. Its sole orientation was directly above the center of the tunnel circle—the location where the main seal of the Chanis Gate lay dormant.

The bell was not a warning, but an activation.

It awakened the hidden spiritual structure of the mold roots buried deep beneath the rock, causing this concentric circle array, which had been entrenched for years, to switch completely from its original position-locking mode to a summoning and guidance state.

"The center of the circle is receiving the rhythm of the bell."

Lu Li raised his flashlight, the beam falling onto the entirely blank stone wall at the center of the circle.

The rock surface, originally without patterns and flatly silent, was slowly revealing a layer of dark, ink-green rune veins. Its basic framework shared the same origin as the backup rune Ince Zangwill had left in the ventilation shaft, but the layered, nested patterns and complex, intertwined spiritual circuits were several times more intricate and eerie than the former.

"Roy King pre-buried a second backup rune beneath the concentric circle array," he stated the truth in a low voice, his tone steady. "Using the generational growth of the mold mycelium as a cover, and borrowing the dormancy of the rock's spirituality, he completely concealed the rune's fluctuations and aura."

Leonard raised his hand to draw the short staff from his waist, its tip flowing with a faint light as it swept across the newly emerged ink-green patterns.

He clearly saw a terrifying cycle—the new runes were constantly protruding from within the stone bricks, tightly intertwined and symbiotic with the spreading, tangled mold roots. The color of the entire fungal circle was fading rapidly, turning grey and withered at a visible rate, while the ink-green patterns of the rune on the stone wall became increasingly rich and deep, so dark they were almost black.

"It is devouring the mold's spirituality," Leonard's eyes narrowed slightly. "Using the vitality of the entire fungal array as nourishment to forcibly ripen the seal-guiding rune."

At the entrance of the branch, Klein stood guard silently, two paper figurines tucked between his fingers, his spirituality constantly on edge.

In the night outside the Pumping Station, a second gunshot boomed. The revolver in Dunn's hand was precise and steady; each shot caught the rhythm of the messenger's advance, suppressing the opponent's momentum and keeping that filthy, terrifying divinity blocked outside the door.

Klein's fingertips moved slightly, activating the paper figurines.

Two thin paper bodies pressed against the damp, cold stone wall, sliding silently into the darkness deep within the branch. The moment they brushed past Leonard, a wisp of light grey mist rose from the back of one of the paper figurines, automatically outlining neat, cold, spiritual analytical text.

[rune spiritual structure: Three-layer nesting.]

[Inner core: Antigonus bloodline mark, dormant at the base.]

[Middle layer circuit: Mold root supply channel, continuous power supply.]

[Outer layer interface: Aurora Order blood sacrifice pulse receiving array, synchronous resonance.]

[Current state: Continuously receiving blood sacrifice supply from downstream of the Hoi River, activation countdown: three minutes.]

Lu Li's gaze fell upon the text, his flashlight beam suddenly narrowing and focusing intensely, locking onto the flickering dark red patterns on the outermost layer of the rune.

The pulsing frequency of that dark red was completely in sync with the blood sacrifice pulse that had spread from downstream of the Hoi River, without the slightest deviation.

Megose stood atop the lighthouse, continuously pouring out blood sacrifice energy; the hidden rune pre-buried underground by Roy King was the ground anchor for this ritual hidden in the North Borough of Backlund.

Each time the dark red pulse washed over, the complex runes sank a fraction, embedding themselves firmly into the depths of the rock, continuously drawing closer to the core structure of the Chanis Gate main seal. In just three minutes, this hidden guiding rune would take root completely, connecting with the main seal and tearing open a narrow fissure capable of prying loose the dormant power.

"We cannot let it fully integrate."

Lu Li lowered his hand to pull out the copper bottle of holy water from his waist, unscrewing the stopper. The clear holy water covered his protective gloves, rippling with a faint, light-blue spiritual glow—pure, holy, and the natural nemesis of filthy spirituality.

He did not pour the holy water directly.

He held his palm a few inches above the rune, using the Prometheus Pathway's extreme perception of temperature and spiritual fluctuations to clearly discern the energy flow and layer distribution of the entire rune.

The innermost Antigonus bloodline mark was the foundation of the entire rune; its spirituality was extremely cold and dead, like a thousand-year-old ice core frozen deep within the rock, dormant and motionless, waiting for the opportunity to finally integrate.

The middle supply circuit was crisscrossed, continuously transporting and nourishing the core bloodline mark with the spirituality extracted by the mold.

The outermost blood sacrifice interface had the highest temperature; every time a downstream pulse arrived, it would explode with a blinding dark red spiritual glow, maintaining the entire cross-regional blood sacrifice ritual.

Directly splashing holy water would only kill the withered mold mycelium on the surface; it could not reach the rune veins buried deep within the stone bricks, nor could it shake the bloodline mark at the very bottom.

To break the situation, one must first peel it away.

By completely stripping the entire nested rune set from the rock, exposing all spiritual structures, the holy water could thoroughly cleanse the foundation and eliminate future troubles.

Lu Li turned his head to look at Leonard, his voice steady: "How much longer can the blocking rune hold?"

Leonard tapped the three silver-grey runes on the ground with his short staff. The blocking spiritual light, which had originally flowed with a bright luster, had dimmed significantly, and signs of spiritual disorder were becoming increasingly obvious.

"Daly's spiritual medium interference is still ongoing; the opponent's spiritual positioning remains in a state of misalignment and delay, unable to lock onto our coordinates," he quickly assessed the situation. "But the energy of the blocking rune relies entirely on the short staff. The day the staff's seal runes are exhausted is the day the barrier fails. There isn't much time."

"That is enough."

Lu Li opened his left hand and took out a fragment of the worm of time.

The dark brown, fragmented insect body vibrated gently in his palm, with light and shadow rapidly alternating at intervals of less than half a second. The moment it sensed the Antigonus bloodline mark dormant deep in the rock, the fragment automatically entered into deep resonance.

There were no external fluctuations or unusual movements, only a secret, homologous spiritual frequency quietly connecting.

Borrowing this secure, synchronous resonance, Lu Li mobilized the subtle spiritual tentacles of the Marauder Pathway, probing inch by inch along the rock crevices and rune veins toward the ice core mark at the deepest part of the rune.

The moment the spiritual tentacles touched the bloodline mark, a bone-chilling cold suddenly swept over his fingertips.

This was not a physical low temperature, but a dead, silent chill originating from the source and transcending conventional spiritual systems. It was exactly the same as the cold chill he had felt in the Underground Channel Secret Room when his memories were overturned and his past pried into by the lingering will of the Snake of Fate.

That bloodline mark lay quietly dormant—not attacking, not moving, not leaking fluctuations. Its sole purpose was to wait for the moment the rune fully integrated with the main seal to completely unlock the guiding power.

Lu Li collected his thoughts and began to peel it away layer by layer.

A faint Prometheus spiritual flame seeped from his fingertips, its temperature suppressed to the extreme, precise and controllable. It was sufficient to melt the spiritual channels supplied by the mycelium, yet it would never stimulate or trigger the rune's self-defense mechanism.

Subtle, silent snapping sounds rang out in succession within the crevices of the rock.

The crisscrossed middle supply circuits snapped and dissolved inch by inch in the low-temperature spiritual fire. The energy chain maintaining the symbiosis between the rune and the mold was completely shattered, and the originally continuous spiritual supply came to an abrupt halt.

The ink-green spiritual light in the middle layer of the rune rapidly dimmed and faded, and the Antigonus bloodline ice core buried deep at the bottom was completely exposed.

Just at this moment, a violent blood sacrifice pulse, far exceeding all previous waves, surged from downstream of the Hoi River.

The rock strata of the entire drainage branch vibrated violently, and gravel fell with a rustling sound.

The blood sacrifice interface on the outer layer of the rune was instantly activated, and a blinding red light exploded, eerie and scorching. The two remaining concentric circles of mold on the stone wall suddenly collapsed and gathered inward. All mycelium detached from the crevices of the stone bricks, pulled by an invisible giant force and gathered above the center of the circle.

Countless dark green mycelia intertwined, squirmed, and piled up, condensing into a viscous sphere that pulsed continuously.

Inside the sphere, a miniature Spirit Descent Ritual pattern was forming at high speed.

Without the need for a complete twelve-pointed star base, the massive amount of mold medium and this extremely violent blood sacrifice pulse were enough to temporarily construct a secondary guiding structure. It would connect and merge with the primary rune at the bottom, creating a double superposition to forcibly tear open the outer seal of the Chanis Gate.

At the entrance of the branch, Klein instantly perceived the crisis.

During the aggregation of the mycelium, countless fine spiritual dust scattered and drifted, turning into a pale green mist that spread rapidly along the airflow of the drainage pipe toward the outside of the Pumping Station. Once it leaked and spread, it would easily trigger unknown, filthy mutations.

He raised his hand to tear open a bag of purification powder, the grey-white powder scattering out and evenly covering all paths where the mist was spreading.

The moment the powder came into contact with the filthy mist, a fine "hissing" sound rang out. The fallen spirituality was instantly adsorbed and solidified, turning into countless fine grey particles that fell to the ground, clearing the hidden danger instantly.

Immediately after, Klein flicked his fingers, and the two paper figurines flew apart in mid-air.

One went straight to the fungal sphere forming above the center of the circle, monitoring the evolution of the miniature rune in real-time; the second crossed the dark tunnel, rushing to the front door of the Pumping Station to track the standoff between Dunn and the messenger.

Outside the Pumping Station door, the standoff had already entered its third minute, reaching a white-hot stage.

Daly's spiritual medium interference remained effective, continuously distorting and delaying the messenger's spiritual vision.

All of the opponent's advances, predictions, and pursuits would encounter a delay of several seconds in information—a miss by an inch, a loss by a thousand miles.

Dunn's revolver, taking advantage of this fleeting error, intercepted accurately every time, keeping the opponent firmly blocked outside the door.

However, the effectiveness of the spiritual interference was rapidly decaying.

The messenger's filthy will was constantly adapting and becoming immune during the continuous confrontation, and the delay error was shortening with each instance. The restraint shrouding its perception was already tottering, and it would completely dissipate in at most two more rounds of attacks.

In the dead of night, the messenger slowly straightened its hunched body, raised its hands, and held a rusted ritual dagger horizontally in front of its chest.

The blood sacrifice patterns engraved on the blade of the dagger lit up with a dark red eerie glow on their own. It was attempting to trace the source backward using its own blood sacrifice circuit, lock onto Daly's spiritual medium contact point, and sever this annoying perceptual interference.

Dunn's eyes narrowed; he would not give it even the slightest window to cast a spell.

Two gunshots rang out in succession, short and decisive.

The first shot grazed the edge of the messenger's hood, the bullet nailing into the brick wall behind, sending gravel flying; the second shot accurately hit the blade of the dagger, the huge impact vibration directly knocking the weapon away.

The ritual dagger spun and landed on the muddy ground in the distance, completely out of control.

Deep in the drainage branch, the final supply circuit was completely melted.

Lu Li did not hesitate any longer; the spirituality of the fragment of the worm of time in his left hand surged, using the homologous frequency to lock firmly onto all spiritual flows of the Antigonus bloodline mark, completely freezing its dormant guiding authority.

His right hand flipped the copper bottle, no longer probing.

He pressed the cold, hard mouth of the bottle deeply into the exposed rune groove in the rock, letting the clear holy water pour in along the fractured rune veins, layer by layer, reaching straight to the core bloodline ice core and the outer blood sacrifice interface.

The moment the holy water touched the fallen runes and the filthy bloodline, a shrill, piercing screech suddenly exploded.

The remaining mold mycelium on the entire wall, as if struck by thunder, twitched and twisted frantically, all ejected from the crevices of the stone bricks, swaying wildly in the air.

All dark green hues faded instantly, rapidly turning grey, dehydrating, and disintegrating, turning into fine powder filling the sky, falling with a rustling sound.

The fungal sphere above the center of the circle lost its energy support, and the miniature Spirit Descent Ritual pattern formed inside cracked and shattered in response.

One by one, the rune veins broke and dissolved, and the dark red spiritual sparks were extinguished in succession.

The plump, squirming fungal mass, like a skin bag with its core drained, rapidly shriveled, collapsed, and dissipated without a trace.

The blood sacrifice interface on the outer layer of the rune short-circuited completely; the flickering dark red light points extinguished one by one, leaving no more fluctuations.

The Antigonus bloodline ice core at the deepest point emitted a low, short hum from the rock strata, then fell completely silent, devoid of any spirituality.

The sky full of grey-white powder fell onto both their shoulders and hat brims.

Leonard raised his hand to brush the debris from his face, the tip of his short staff pushing aside the remaining fungal remains on the ground.

On the stone wall, the complex and eerie three-layer nested rune had completely perished, leaving only shallow grooves where the rock had been corroded—empty and vacant, with no trace of spiritual luster or any filthy aura.

He let out a long breath, his tone filled with the lightness of having survived a disaster: "It's done."

Outside the Pumping Station door, the standoff suddenly collapsed.

That messenger, enveloped in shadows and exuding filthy divinity, suddenly froze, its chest heaving violently, and the fallen spirituality diffusing around its body instantly became disordered and dissipated.

A few seconds later, it slowly raised its bloodshot vertical pupils, gazing deeply into the pitch-black doorway of the Pumping Station, the remnants of violence and unwillingness from the complete failure of the ritual remaining in the depths of its eyes.

But the anchor point was destroyed, the rune had completely collapsed, the blood sacrifice circuit was completely severed; the entire layout had fallen through.

It no longer held the standoff, slowly retreating a few steps, its figure merging into the thick night fog by the river, disappearing without a trace in an instant.

Daly, who had been remotely controlling the spiritual medium interference, slowly withdrew all her spiritual tentacles, her forehead covered in fine cold sweat, her lips slightly pale, and her breath slightly short.

"He has retreated." She adjusted her breathing, her voice remaining steady and calm. "He also has the snake emblem engraved inside him. The moment the underground array was completely destroyed, the backlash of the ritual failure was transmitted back simultaneously, forcing him to abandon all tasks."

Dunn put away his revolver, stepped toward the entrance of the drainage branch, and asked about the battle situation in a deep voice.

Deep in the tunnel, Leonard's reply penetrated the darkness, carrying an undisguised excitement: "The rune has been completely stripped, all mycelium withered, and the core structure of the entire guiding ritual has been irreversibly damaged! I must make a key entry in my patrol log later!"

In the Chanis Gate seal maintenance room, Old Neil slowly lowered his staff.

The azure light of the crystal alert at the head of the staff faded layer by layer, finally returning to a gentle light blue, flashing once, and then extinguishing completely.

The frantically jumping needles of the monitoring dials fell back one by one, and the disordered spiritual curve of the seventh outer ring sensing node slowly smoothed out and returned to stability.

He picked up the slightly cool black tea on the table, took a sip, opened the heavy work log, and wrote down concise and neat characters on the page for the night of the full moon:

[rune stripping successful, mold concentric circle array completely destroyed, supply circuit completely severed.]

[Roy King's pre-buried backup anchor point invalidated, Megose's cross-river blood sacrifice pulse lost its ground connection, the entire Spirit Descent Ritual completely bankrupt.]

Pen down, signature, close the log.

Outside the window, the moonlight on Iron Cross Street remained clear and scorching white, quietly covering the entire dilapidated neighborhood.

The remaining water in the drainage ditch flowed slowly through the stone crevices, washing away the last bit of mold powder.

The cold moonlight passed through the gaps in the Pumping Station iron gate, falling onto the wet bluestone slabs, coating every Nighthawk who returned through the night, covered in dust, with a layer of quiet, bright silver radiance.

The dormant crisis, tonight, temporarily came to an end.