168: Chapter 168 Fire Doesn't Illuminate the Sea

The Shore Keeper stood in the heart of the pier, feet firmly on the ground, the soles of its shoes dry and untouched by even a hint of the sea's moisture.

It wore an old, washed-out deep blue station uniform, with the collar buttoned tightly to the very top, sealing out the sea breeze and damp mist. A black umbrella hung low at an angle, turbid seawater constantly dripping from its edge. Yet, as the droplets fell to the ground, they did not seep or scatter. Instead, defying all logic, they crawled back up the edge of the umbrella one by one, retreating entirely into the pitch-black canopy.

Silence filled the area; no one answered its question.

The wind in the port area abruptly died down, and even the sound of the tide ringing in their ears faded by more than half, leaving only a suffocating silence between heaven and earth.

On the distant reef of the Black Shore, countless wet, black crows perched. They turned their necks in unison, their countless pitch-black eyes aligning toward the pier, quietly waiting as if anticipating a name destined to fall.

The Shore Keeper slowly raised its hand, cradling a thin booklet in its palm that was soaked, swollen, and softened by seawater. The cover of the booklet was blank, covered in damp wrinkles and exuding the fishy stench and cold of years spent at sea. With a light flick of its finger, the yellowed, damp pages slowly unfolded, revealing dense handwriting that recorded every single spark of light that had ever shone in the Linhai Port Area.

Lighthouse beacons, emergency room lights at the hospital, Guardian Lamps at temporary shelters, sparks at the Third Anchor Point, maritime patrol warning signals... not a single one was missing.

At the end of each recorded spark, a thin black thread stretched inward. At the end of these threads, the names of living people were tightly bound.

"Wayfinder, report the shore."

The Shore Keeper's voice was flat, cold, and hoarse. Its moderate tone penetrated the dense fog and buildings, seeming to seep out from the depths of every hidden light in the city, echoing in everyone's ears.

A bizarre, bewitching power instantly swept through the city. Inside the shelters, many residents suddenly clutched their heads and squatted, their minds buzzing and their consciousness severely fracturing. In the hospital corridors, patients who had just stabilized opened their eyes in unison, their hollow gazes turning toward the Black Sea outside the windows. For those who had been named by the Black Shore and harbored deep obsessions, damp, fine black stains seeped from the skin of their wrists, their phone screens, and the edges of old family photos, bone-chillingly cold.

In front of the dispatch console, Tang Zhiwei stared intently at the flickering data screen, her expression dark and grim.

"It's tampering with the rules."

"It wants to convert the guiding lights of the mortal realm into a controllable list, one by one."

The next second, Lu Chen's calm and steady voice echoed clearly through the Xin Huo Interface into the dispatch room, cutting through the layers of panic.

"So, don't let it define the lights for us."

Tang Zhiwei froze slightly, instantly grasping the key point.

"What should we do?"

"Guard your heart, and guard the living."

Lu Chen's words were calm and resolute, breaking the deadlock with every syllable.

"What we are guarding are people, not the direction to guide the Black Sea."

Though the words sounded obscure and convoluted, Tang Zhiwei understood them in an instant.

She immediately adjusted the city's dispatch plan, abandoning all external illumination and guiding paths, shrinking all lights and defensive lines into an inner closed loop. The hospital lights only illuminated the wards and patients, shutting out the black mist outside the windows; the shelter's sparks only enveloped the gathered crowds, firmly protecting their minds; and the port area's Fire Beacons completely cut off their projection toward the sea, retaining only the calibration lights facing the city.

From then on, Linhai's fire would no longer seek a path of survival from the vast Black Sea.

The mortal sparks were meant only to keep the people close by safe, guarding the peace within the city's borders.

At the entrance of the shelter, Lin Zhao held a standard Guardian Lamp low in his palm. He had no powerful law vessel to bolster him, nor did he possess Zhao Ye's Heaven-Defying power to rewrite and suppress rules. He simply held a faint spark of the mortal realm steady, standing at the very front of the defensive line.

As the Shore Keeper's bewitching voice drifted into the shelter, countless people were beguiled by their inner yearning for home and the sound of the tide from the sea. Dazed and disoriented, their steps moved uncontrollably toward the Black Sea outside. Lin Zhao raised his hand and gently pushed the Guardian Lamp forward.

The warm light spread a shallow arc along the damp ground, firmly enclosing a safe haven.

"Stay in the light, don't go out."

A middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes stumbled forward, about to step over the threshold, when Lin Zhao held him back firmly.

"My wife is still out at sea..." The man's voice choked with emotion, his eyes filled with obsession. "I just want to take one look, just one look."

"And after you look?" Lin Zhao gazed at him quietly, his tone calm and clear.

The man froze, his throat bobbing, but he could not utter a single reply.

"If she really returns, the first thing she will look for is you, and home."

Lin Zhao's voice pierced the shroud over the man's heart, shattering the illusory bewitchment.

"It is not for you to take the initiative to step out of the defensive line and deliver yourself to the Black Sea."

The man stood frozen at the threshold, trembling all over. The obsession and terror in his heart pulled violently at each other, but in the end, he stopped his steps toward the darkness.

On the other side, Xu Minglan quickly moved to control the situation. She did not need secret arts or Divine Abilities; she used the simplest method to stabilize the people's minds. She stuffed identity cards filled with names, addresses, contact information, and medical histories into the hands of the dazed residents one by one. Whenever someone's gaze wandered or their mind faltered, a companion beside them would immediately look at the card and loudly call out their name and where they belonged.

"Don't answer. Don't respond on behalf of the darkness."

Xu Minglan instructed all the family members in a low, firm voice, every word resolute.

"Make sure he remembers for himself who he is and where his home is."

Cries, whispers, and suppressed sobs rose and fell, and panic gripped the people. Yet, under the shroud of the low sparks, the crowd never broke, and the defensive line stood firm.

The Incarnation condensed from the power of Torch quietly landed in the center of the port area. The Purifying Flame around him was restrained and silent, without a hint of ostentatious power. As the sea breeze swept past, his clothes fluttered gently, yet they did not carry even a fraction of leaked firelight, remaining quiet to the point of gentleness.

Yet it was this restrained true fire of the mortal realm that caused the nameless booklet in the Shore Keeper's palm to tremble violently, the edges of its pages curling, drying, and blackening under the invisible high heat.

The Shore Keeper looked up, staring intently at the restrained rhythm of the fire in Lu Chen's palm.

"You are hiding the fire."

Lu Chen did not deny it, standing there in silence.

"The fire should shine," the Shore Keeper said in a flat tone, carrying the unquestionable arrogance of its rules.

"Shine for whom to see?" Lu Chen retorted.

The Shore Keeper had no answer.

In that brief moment of silence, the Black Sea looming over the port area pressed down by an inch. Black clouds hung low, and the pressure suddenly intensified. In the distance, the lights of several shelters shook violently, flickering between brightness and darkness, and panic once again rippled through the people.

Lu Chen raised his eyes, scanning the entire city of Linhai.

Within his Grey Net vision, Tang Zhiwei bent over her desk, rapidly adjusting the dispatch routes, organizing them layer by layer into a closed-loop control; Xu Minglan threaded through the crowd, anchoring minds with identity cards; Lin Zhao guarded the entrance to the death, stopping countless living souls bewitched by their obsessions; Chen Jue leaned over his desk, writing out transport routes stroke by stroke, his handwriting hurried yet neat, with not a single detail missed or a word lacking.

These sparks were neither dazzling nor soaring; they could not pierce the heavy Black Sea, nor could they illuminate the distant fog.

Yet they were the mortal Foundation that the Black Shore could least plunder or taint.

Lu Chen withdrew his gaze and looked directly at the Shore Keeper before him, his words ringing clear and powerful.

"Whether the lights are bright or dim, and where they shine, should be decided by the people on the shore, not regulated by the Black Sea."

The Shore Keeper lowered the tip of its umbrella slightly, standing in silence. This was the first time since it had set foot on this shore that it had heard a mortal creed that violated its inherent rules and defied its understanding.

In the darkness, Bai Ya withdrew the crow shadow that had probed into the texture of the booklet. In the beak of the returning phantom was a damp, blackened thread.

The end of this black thread lay not at the port's Fire Beacons, nor in the coastal shipping lanes, but on the transport lists of Linhai that were repeatedly checked and confirmed. The Shore Keeper used the lights to lock onto those responsible, then dug out weaknesses along the obsessions of human hearts, seeking the most fragile, easily breached flaws in the entire city.

Bai Ya squeezed his fingertips, snapping the damp thread by force. His palm was cut with a fine, bloody wound by the residual dark power.

He murmured in a low voice, his tone bone-chillingly cold, "It is even filthier than the dossiers."

"Dossiers at least rely on words to define rules and guilt."

"It directly seizes people's obsession with returning home, using it to pave its path and slaughter lives."

Without turning back, Lu Chen's voice, steady yet immensely powerful, echoed throughout the entire port area.

"Then let everyone walk together. No one walks alone, and no one is left behind."

Tang Zhiwei immediately pushed this directive to all duty points, shelters, and transport lines. It was strictly enforced city-wide: no one was allowed to approach windows or doors alone, and no one was allowed to answer unfamiliar calls alone. This was not restrictive control, but a way to ensure that beside every heart, there was another person who could call out their name, anchor their mind, and stop them from stepping into the darkness.

The Shore Keeper silently flipped through the small booklet in its hand, the friction of the pages making a damp, soft rustle.

The pitch-black tip of the umbrella suddenly lifted, pointing precisely at the Fire Beacon of the port's Third Anchor Point.

"Third Anchor, report the shore."

As the words fell, Linhai's steadfast Fire Beacon trembled slightly, its light dimming.

The Black Shore, entrenched on the sea in the distance, pressed forward by an inch. The black mist surged, and killing intent suddenly flared.

Bai Ya released all his crow shadows, sending them gliding low over the roofs of the port area, tracing backward along the black threads extending from the booklet to find their source.

In moments, he saw through to the truth and warned in a low, hushed voice, "Its shore beacon is not in the sea."

"It's hidden in the old maps of the port."

The Space Venerable reacted instantly: "Is it the abandoned berth at Pier Seven?"

"No," Bai Ya flatly denied, his gaze growing increasingly grim. "It's deeper. It has attached the shore beacon anchor point to our evacuation route."

Tang Zhiwei immediately retrieved all manual transport trajectories and evacuation records in the port area, screening and comparing them line by line. Finally, she caught a bizarre, anomalous marker on a pilot vehicle route that had been activated last night but was now abandoned.

This route had been used specifically last night to transport emergency hospital supplies.

One of the dispatched vehicles had not yet returned.

It was the Tyrannosaurus King's tow truck.

The next second, a rough voice laced with static came through the walkie-talkie, filled with suppressed anxiety and shock.

"On my end... the road is gone."

Tang Zhiwei's expression sank instantly, her tone tense: "Report your position!"

"It's the exact coordinates you gave me!" The Tyrannosaurus King cursed under his breath, his voice filled with unbelievable anxiety. "But all I see is the sea! There is no road at all!"

On the pier, the Shore Keeper, who had remained silent all along, seemed to hear something highly pleasing, and the cold aura around it rippled slightly.

"Wayfinder, enter the shore of your own accord."

Zhao Ye took a step forward. The Evil-Suppressing Fire Pattern dormant in his palm suddenly throbbed, burning hot, but he forced it down with all his might.

"I'll go pull him back."

Shen Qinghe immediately raised her hand to stop him, her tone resolute: "You can't go. You are the strongest source of fire in the entire city. If you move, you will leave behind the clearest and most fatal locking line for it."

Zhao Ye's jaw tightened, his eyes filled with anxiety and restraint, but he had no way to argue.

In the instant the deadlock froze, at the deepest part of the pier, that line of fire—hidden beneath layers and restrained to the absolute limit—quietly lit up.

There was no soaring flame, no dazzling light.

Only a faint, grayish-white glimmer slowly spread and unfolded forward from beneath the damp, dark ground. It did not illuminate the surging Black Sea, nor did it shine upon the Shore Keeper before it. It merely lay dormant on the road surface, visible only to those who stepped upon it.

Lu Chen's fire-wielding Incarnation slowly stepped out from the end of this underground dark fire.

He possessed none of the world-shaking power he had shown when suppressing the Black Sea before. The Purifying Flame around him was completely restrained, with only an almost imperceptible grayish-white glimmer floating at the edges of his clothes—gentle yet firm, steady and fearless.

For the first time, the Shore Keeper truly cast its gaze upon him, a faint ripple of emotion passing through its eyes.

"You have also lit a lamp."

"I have," Lu Chen answered calmly.

"Report the shore," the Shore Keeper repeated the cold rule.

This time, Lu Chen completely ignored its command, not answering a single word.

He slowly raised his hand, and a wisp of warm true fire of the mortal realm from his palm gently fell onto the hovering electronic map of the port area.

All external evacuation routes and pilot trajectories on the map dimmed completely, devoid of any light.

Only the tow truck route that had been swallowed by the darkness and vanished into thin air, along with the coordinates where the Tyrannosaurus King was trapped, was precisely marked out and firmly locked onto once again within the Grey Net vision.

This spark of the mortal realm did not shine outward to illuminate the sea.

Moving against the trajectory of darkness, it followed the names of every living person busy on the road, every soul yearning for home, shining its way back inch by inch from the depths of the vast Black Sea, back into the city, back to the mortal realm.

The handwriting in the blank booklet in the Shore Keeper's palm suddenly blurred and faded, and countless black threads snapped and dissipated inch by inch.

Its ancient, unchanging cold rules were broken for the first time by a mortal spark.

It frowned slightly, a strange stagnation finally appearing in its eyes.

Lu Chen stood quietly on the pier, looking at the Black Sea and the figure before him, his words clear and resounding.

"The lights of the mortal realm do not report the shore for the Black Sea."