174: Chapter 174 There is no sea underground

The North Shore settlement was converted from an abandoned primary school.

Rows of temporary tents were set up on the playground, and the classrooms were filled with folding beds.

The blackboard hadn't been wiped clean, and in the bottom right corner remained half a sentence in crooked chalk writing: "Bring watercolors tomorrow."

The childish handwriting clashed with the panicked atmosphere filling the room, appearing particularly jarring.

It was in this building that Zheng Xiang lost contact.

When Zhao Ye arrived, only the emergency lights in the entire building were still clinging to life, flickering on and off, illuminating the corridor like a dying person gasping for breath.

A few family members huddled at the stairwell, their faces as pale as paper.

Someone was holding a sleeping child, who still clutched half a gnawed wheat cake in their hand, completely unaware of the strangeness surrounding them.

"Where is Zheng Xiang?" Zhao Ye asked in a deep voice.

No one answered.

An old lady tremblingly raised her hand, pointing toward the power distribution room at the end of the corridor. Her lips quivered for a long time before she managed to squeeze out a sentence: "He... he told us not to go over there."

Zhao Ye didn't ask any more questions and walked inside.

Just as he stepped into the corridor, a faint sound of water suddenly came from under his feet.

The ground was clearly bone-dry, yet the sound was as clear as if it were right next to his ear—seawater was surging up from underground, fine and icy, drilling into the bones along the wall cracks, door gaps, and human ankles.

In the flickering light of the emergency lamps, fine black salt was seeping out of the gaps between the floor tiles, like sand rising from the seabed.

Zhao Ye clenched his jaw, and the power of the Evil Suppressor settled heavily within him.

He lifted his foot and stomped down hard.

Thump.

A muffled sound slammed into the corridor, and the persistent sound of water stopped for an instant.

"Stop playing tricks," Zhao Ye said in a low voice, laced with Evil Qi, "There is no sea underground."

As soon as he finished speaking, the door to the power distribution room was lightly tapped from the inside.

"Brother Zhao?"

It was Zheng Xiang's voice. He was still alive, but his breathing was extremely shallow, as if someone were strangling his throat.

Zhao Ye reached out to pull the door, but the door panel felt like it was being held back by a thousand-pound weight from the other side.

Streams of black water seeped out from the gaps in the door; they crawled to his fingertips, as cold as a frost-tempered blade.

"How many people are inside?"

"Just me," Zheng Xiang gasped, cursed, his voice trembling, "And... something else."

"Can you get away from the door?"

"I can't," Zheng Xiang's voice was muffled, "It's grabbing my shadow."

Zhao Ye looked back.

The emergency light at the end of the corridor shone obliquely onto the power room door. Beneath the door, Zheng Xiang's shadow was stretched thin and long, like a rope being dragged into black water.

Bai Ya's voice came through the channel, very steady, but those familiar with him could tell it was a bit too steady: "Don't smash the door. The shadow is connected to the thing behind the door; if you smash it hard, he'll break first."

Zhao Ye almost cursed out loud: "Then what do I do?"

"I'm looking."

On the second floor of the Old Lighthouse, Bai Ya pressed his Crow Feather Seal tightly onto the Fire Map, fine bloodshot lines appearing in his eyes.

The images transmitted back by the Grey Net were as fragmented as old paper soaked in water: the settlement, drainage ditches, electrical boxes, the power distribution room, the black salt hand, the increasingly stretched shadow... every segment was shaking, ready to fall apart at any moment.

Shen Qinghe stood by his side and softly reminded him: "You're tracing too deeply; you'll be back-traced."

Bai Ya didn't look up, the Fire Seal on his fingertips brightening by a degree: "Zheng Xiang can't hold on."

"You will be targeted by it too."

"Then let it chase," Bai Ya pressed a Fire Seal onto the corresponding position on the Fire Map, his tone as cold as ice on the sea surface, "I was just worried it wouldn't show itself."

Inside the power distribution room, Zheng Xiang slumped against the wall, his left hand gripping a flashlight tightly, and his right hand pressing firmly against the main breaker of the electrical box.

That black salt hand reached out from the gap in the electrical box, gripping the shadow he cast on the wall.

His legs were clearly still attached to his body, but every inch his shadow was dragged inward, his bones felt like they were being hooked by iron claws and pulled out, the pain making his vision go white.

"You things..." He gasped, gritting his teeth and cursing, "Why do you all love dragging people into the water?"

The black salt hand did not respond.

The sparks bursting from the electrical box gradually turned black.

It wanted to turn off the lights in the entire building.

As long as the lights went out, everyone in the Lamp-Keeping Zone with unstable minds would once again hear the call of the Black Shore.

By then, they wouldn't need the first bus or a return ticket; this building itself would become a pier without doors.

Zheng Xiang bit down on the flashlight, freed one hand, and pushed hard on the main breaker.

That movement caused his shadow immense pain, and tears almost burst out.

"Not allowed to go out," he said, with the flashlight in his mouth, his voice muffled but firm, "I haven't finished serving the porridge."

Outside the door, Zhao Ye suddenly felt his Suppression Domain being lightly nipped by something.

It wasn't an attack.

It was like a bird's claw, grabbing the sound of water he had suppressed and gently pulling it to the side.

Bai Ya's voice followed immediately, precise and sharp: "Bottom left, the third tile."

Zhao Ye didn't hesitate for a second, raising his foot and stomping down hard.

The tile surface exploded, revealing a section of black drainpipe underneath. A hand wrapped in a salt shell at the mouth of the pipe retracted violently.

At the end of the corridor, the stretched shadow suddenly slackened.

Zhao Ye took the opportunity to slam open the power distribution room door and hoisted Zheng Xiang up from the floor.

The flashlight in Zheng Xiang's mouth fell to the floor with a "clatter," and the first thing he said wasn't "thank you."

"Is the... porridge pot still on?"

Zhao Ye looked at his cold-sweat-drenched face, as pale as paper, and let out a laugh of exasperation.

"You're about to lose your damn life, and you're still thinking about porridge?"

Zheng Xiang leaned against the wall, gasping like a leaking bellows: "If they don't eat... they'll start running around in the middle of the night again."

In the Old Lighthouse, just as Bai Ya was about to relax his efforts and withdraw, the Crow Feather Seal on the Fire Map suddenly recoiled violently.

A drop of pitch-black water seeped out from the paper surface, and a blurry figure floated within the droplet. It had no face, and a soaked dead crow was perched on its shoulder.

The figure raised its head, as if looking straight into the depths of Bai Ya's eyes from across a vast, pitch-black sea.

[Patrol Lamper.]

[You found me.]

Bai Ya's fingertips suddenly went cold.

The next instant, all the lights on the second floor of the lighthouse went out simultaneously, and a thick darkness pressed down like an overwhelming tide.

After Zhao Ye slammed the door open, he first smelled a burnt odor. It wasn't the pungent smell of burning wires, but the fishy, astringent stench of seaweed dried by fire.

A large patch of wall plaster behind Zheng Xiang bulged, as if tidal water were slapping against the wall from inside. He hauled Zheng Xiang behind him and backhanded a punch at the wall, shattering the plaster—there was no water inside, only a large, clumped mass of black salt and a tangled, grey, dark shadow.

Zheng Xiang saw the thing, and his face turned even paler than before. Just as he was about to speak, Zhao Ye slapped him on the back: "If you can walk, walk; if you can't, I'll drag you."

Zheng Xiang winced in pain, still unconvinced: "Is this how you Torch people persuade others?"

Zhao Ye glanced at him: "I usually don't persuade."

Outside the corridor, the family members didn't disperse immediately. Some wanted to help, some were curious and wanted to watch, and others were simply scared senseless.

When Lin Zhao arrived, his first action wasn't to explain, but to plant his Guardian Lamp apparatus at the stairwell and sternly tell everyone to step back.

A man shouted in dissatisfaction: "What exactly are you hiding? Can't you just explain it clearly?"

Lin Zhao looked at him, his tone flat and without ripples: "Hiding the things that allow you to live until dawn."

The man opened his mouth, but in the end, he didn't say anything more and silently retreated.

In the darkness of the Old Lighthouse, Shen Qinghe placed her hand on Bai Ya's shoulder, the Fire Seal emitting a gentle, warm light to suppress his perception that was on the verge of chaos.

She didn't tell him to stop, only saying softly: "Don't dive into it alone."

Bai Ya replied in a low voice: "I know."

This time, he truly knew.

When the lights outside the power distribution room came back on, several children started crying loudly first.

The adults were a beat slower, as if they only dared to feel fear in hindsight at this moment.

Zheng Xiang was helped to a chair to sit down, and the first thing he asked was whether anyone was injured.

Zhao Ye told him to shut up and rest, and he actually closed his eyes for two seconds before he couldn't help asking again if the porridge had burnt.

Lin Zhao brought over a bowl of hot porridge and shoved it into his hands: "It's not burnt; eat it."

Zheng Xiang held the bowl of porridge, suddenly smiled, and as he smiled, his eyes turned red.

Later, he drank the bowl of porridge completely clean, not leaving a single grain of rice.

He said he wasn't hungry, it was just that he couldn't let it go to waste.

Lin Zhao didn't expose him; he picked up the empty bowl and turned to leave.

As he walked to the door, he heard a very soft "thank you" from behind him, the voice so small it was almost drowned out by the buzzing of the emergency light.