175: Chapter 175 Lanterns and Crow Lanterns

The moment the second floor of the Old Lighthouse went dark, Bai Ya first smelled the scent of damp feathers.

It wasn't the warm, fishy-smelling dampness of a bird's nest on the seaside reefs, but rather more like a dead bird that had been soaking in the deep sea for dozens of days, washed ashore by the waves, only to be picked up and slowly roasted beside a dying lamp wick.

Damp, cold, and wrapped in the salty stench of decay, yet it was entwined with a hint of the burnt smell of an extinguishing spark, slipping in through the window cracks and sticking to the surface of his skin, refusing to go away.

Shen Qinghe raised her hand and pressed it against the Fire Seal on her wrist. The lingering echo of the Fate-Illuminating Bronze Bell vibrated gently in the depths of her consciousness, a faint humming that sounded as if it had been muffled by seawater.

She heard more than one drop point.

The emergency light at the North Bank settlement, the Guardian Lamp device at Jiangbei Liuqiao Old Station, the warning light at the Qinghe No. 1 Safe House, the shadowless lamp that stayed lit in the Linhai Hospital emergency room, plus the hidden lamp fragment from Deputy Captain He Yuan, the Starry Sky Station coordinates, and the crow feather printed paper in Bai Ya's palm—all nodes carrying the Torch fire Qi were strung together by a cold, damp, and sticky thin line. The string, soaked in black salt, was crawling back along his line of sight.

"It isn't coming for the lighthouse." Shen Qinghe's voice was tight, her fingertips slightly numb, the vibration of the bronze bell traveling up her arm toward her shoulder and neck. "It is using you to track all the fire points. The deeper you pursue, the clearer it can trace them."

Bai Ya sat motionless in the darkness, his fingertips still resting on the crow feather printed paper. The Fire Seal patch on the corner of the table emitted a very faint light, outlining his profile with a cold edge.

"I know."

"If you know, then why not retreat?" Shen Qinghe was almost laughed in frustration. "Any further and you'll reach the core anchor point of the Black Shore. If you charge in alone, you'll only be throwing your life away."

"If I retreat, this line will break." Bai Ya's tone was flat, devoid of emotion. "If we want to drag it out next time, we'll have to sacrifice a few more lamps and a few more people."

Suddenly, Zhao Ye's voice came over the channel, accompanied by the sound of panting. He was clearly rushing back after settling Zheng Xiang. "I heard that. Shen Qinghe, don't praise him. He's acting exactly like I do when I lose my head."

Bai Ya ignored him.

In the darkness, the crow feather printed paper on the table suddenly floated up on its own. The black feather patterns on the surface began to crack from the edges, peeling off like water-softened cardboard, eventually coalescing into a dripping wet black bird. It had no eyes, black salt seeping from its hollow sockets, but its beak was precisely pointed at Bai Ya's brow, tapping lightly again and again, like it was knocking on a door.

With every tap, a new scene was poured into Bai Ya's mind.

Under the dim yellow emergency light at the North Bank settlement, families huddled in the corner holding their children; the Guardian Lamp operator at Jiangbei Liuqiao Old Station was bowing his head to wipe the lamp body, his back hunched as if carrying the wind for a long time; the duty officer at the Qinghe Safe House was dozing on the desk, an unfinished log pressed under their hand; the lights in the Linhai Hospital emergency room were blindingly bright, nurses running through the corridor pushing a crash cart, their shoe soles making rapid sounds against the floor.

All the lights were reflected under the same Black Sea surface.

If the Black Shore wished, it could follow these reflections at any time and touch every single Lamp-Keeping Zone. It didn't need a frontal assault or a beast tide; it just needed to seep in bit by bit, snuff out the lights, and carry away those who were lost.

This was what it truly wanted.

It wasn't just to extinguish a lamp.

It was to make Torch never dare to light a lamp again.

Bai Ya suddenly gave a low chuckle, the sound very light, wrapped in a touch of chill.

"You're dreaming."

The wet bird's movements paused.

Bai Ya raised his hand, reaching for the hidden lamp fragment left behind by Deputy Captain He Yuan on the table.

"Don't touch it directly!" Shen Qinghe's expression changed abruptly, and she reached out to stop him. "The fire properties inside the fragment are unstable, and the Black Shore has already coiled around it. If you touch it directly, you'll suffer a backlash!"

"It's fine."

"You said it was fine last time too, and you almost burned yourself into the Grey Net as fuel."

"I'm not entering the Grey Net this time." Bai Ya's fingertips were already pressed onto the fragment, warm firelight seeping out from between his fingers, baking a small warm edge into the darkness. "I'm entering the lamp."

The hidden lamp left by Deputy Captain He Yuan was merely a fragment of an old lamp, its internal wick long since charred and withered. But ever since the name was left in Torch, the true trace of Deputy Captain He Yuan's final lamp-keeping had been fixed within the fragment. It wasn't strong enough, nor complete enough; it couldn't be counted as a proper artifact, and it didn't even have the power of an ordinary Guardian Lamp device.

But it possessed one most precious thing—it knew where the Black Shore should not shine, and it knew which lights must never be reflected out.

Bai Ya pressed the fragment heavily onto the crow feather print. The grayish-white Purifying Flame burned out from the Fire Seal on his wrist bit by bit, seeping into the fragment along its patterns. The black water on the black paper struggled outward like a living thing, the wet bird opening its beak to emit a silent screech. The sharp shockwaves struck the inner wall of the lighthouse, and all the window glass on the second floor was simultaneously covered in white salt frost, emitting a faint cracking sound.

Bai Ya's vision suddenly went black.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing on a coastline without any lights.

Under his feet was black salt sand that sank half an inch with every step. The sky ahead hung so low it seemed about to press down, and countless extinguished lamps hung in the air, one after another, arranged along the coastline toward the depths, with no end in sight. Under every lamp crouched a dead bird, feathers matted into clumps, claws curled into stiff hooks. Some birds had red strings wrapped around their feet, some held half a return ticket in their beaks, and others had names written in charcoal on their wings. They all kept their heads lowered, facing the direction of the sea, as if waiting for someone to light the lamps again.

At the deepest part of the coastline hung a small, palm-sized black-feathered lamp.

The lamp body was pieced together from twisted feather bones, the shade covered in thick salt frost, with no fire inside.

Yet it was waiting for him.

A voice drifted out from the sea mist, like countless voices layered together, or as if bubbling up from the deepest part of the seabed, muffled and heavy.

"For whom do you wish to light the lamp?"

Bai Ya gazed at that lamp, not answering immediately.

He knew this was the Black Shore's probing. If he said "For Torch," the Black Shore would follow the Torch imprint and hunt through the three cities; if he said "For the dead," the regrets of the Court of No Return would be instantly pried open, and all the obsessions of the Guardian Lamps would become its nourishment; if he said "For myself," he would be branded with the new Patrol Lamp-bearer mark, forever remaining on this Black Sea shore, becoming a new lamppost.

The sea mist slowly coiled around his feet, cool and damp, like water-soaked cloth.

Bai Ya was silent for a long time, then suddenly spoke.

"For those who are lost."

The sea mist paused for an instant, as if it didn't understand.

He added another sentence, his tone very flat, carrying a hint of his usual mockery: "Not including you."

From the depths of the Black Shore, a sharp bird cry suddenly rang out, piercing enough to make one's temples throb. The dead lamps along the entire coastline swayed simultaneously, and the black salt sand kicked up a fine wave.

On the second floor of the lighthouse, Bai Ya opened his eyes abruptly.

The fragment of Deputy Captain He Yuan on the table had already crumbled into fine ash.

The crow feather printed paper had also burned, leaving only a small remnant edge that scattered with a breath of wind.

All that remained was a palm-sized black-feathered lamp, lying quietly in his palm. The lamp body looked as if it were cast from a mixture of feather bones and dark bronze, the patterns fine and dense. It didn't feel hot to the touch, but rather had a warm sensation, like old feathers that had been basking in the sun for half a day. A tiny grayish-white spark burned at the wick, steady, unswaying, and not leaking any light outward.

Zero's notification appeared simultaneously on the Xin Huo Interface, the text appearing half a beat slower than usual.

[Residual lamp purification complete.]

[Prototype fire artifact confirmed.]

[Name: Patrol Crow Lamp.]

Bai Ya's fingers were trembling slightly.

It wasn't fear; it was pain.

The lamp fire burned into his blood vessels along the Fire Seal on his wrist, like tiny bird claws gripping his Meridians and slowly crawling upward, wrapped in a burning pain amidst the numbness and itch. It didn't unfold any earth-shattering power for him, nor did it allow him to confront the Black Shore's kin head-on; it only gave him a pair of eyes—or rather, many pairs.

Outside the North Bank settlement, a grayish-Bai Ya shadow hopped down from a streetlamp pole, tilting its head to look into the corridor.

Zheng Xiang had just finished washing the porridge pot and was leaning against the doorframe catching his breath. When he looked up, he met the pitch-black eyes of the crow shadow, and startled, he nearly dropped the copper spoon in his hand with a "clang." He was just about to call out, but the crow shadow fluttered its wings, flew up, and brushed against his sleeve cuff, leaving behind a few tiny sparks. They were warm and cozy, not burning his skin, and then it flew off along the wall eaves. Zheng Xiang stood stunned in place, touching his sleeve; the lingering warmth was still there, as if someone had gently patted his arm.

At Jiangbei Liuqiao Old Station, a Guardian Lamp team member was wiping the lamp shade when he suddenly heard a "tap."

He looked up and saw a gray crow perched on the blockade sign, bowing his head to peck at the black salt solidified on the corner of the sign. The black salt was pecked off, falling to the ground and turning into a wisp of thin smoke, leaving no trace behind. The team member rubbed his eyes, and when he looked again, the sign was clean, and the crow shadow was gone. He muttered "must be tired eyes" but his hand movements while wiping the lamp sped up a little.

At the entrance of the Qinghe No. 1 Safe House, Tang Zhiwei was checking the supply list when she suddenly looked up toward a blind spot in the surveillance.

She had just caught a glimpse of a black shadow darting past, very fast, like a bird. She pulled up the surveillance playback, but there was nothing in the footage, only a faint fire point signal flashing on the sensor, disappearing in an instant. Tang Zhiwei's fingertips paused, and she added a line to the end of the list: Qinghe No. 1 perimeter normal, no abnormal infiltration. She didn't write down the fire point, only noting it in her mind—something had patrolled the perimeter for them.

In the Old Lighthouse of Linhai, Bai Ya looked down at the small lamp in his palm, his complexion as pale as paper, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The new senses were too complex; the subtle sounds of dozens of lamps flooded into his mind simultaneously: the Safe House lamp sounded like someone panting in a low voice, the hospital lamp was wrapped in the cold scent of disinfectant, the lamp at Liuqiao Old Station carried the lingering sound of wheels crushing over tracks, and the fire in the Linhai Lighthouse was constantly being bitten by the sea wind, hissing.

In the past, these sounds were all separated by the Grey Net, like smooth waveforms on a screen; now they were pressed directly against his ears, dozens of sounds layered together, buzzing, making his temples throb.

He braced himself against the edge of the table for a long while before suppressing that wave of dizziness, managing not to throw up on the spot.

Shen Qinghe saw it all but didn't expose him, silently pouring a cup of warm water and pushing it to his hand. Bai Ya looked up, wanting to say "No need," but as soon as he opened his mouth, he coughed, his voice hoarse.

It was just at this moment that Zhao Ye kicked the door open and walked in.

He had just rushed back from the North Bank settlement, his jacket stained with black salt and wall dust, his pant cuffs wet, carrying the dampness of the underground tunnels. With one kick to the door, the wind poured in with him, blowing the papers on the table into a rustling mess.

"Still alive?"

Bai Ya sat before the table, raising his eyes slowly. His face was pale, but his tongue remained as sharp as ever: "If you had come up any later, I could have written my own safety report and sent it to you."

Zhao Ye took two steps closer, saw the small black-feathered lamp in his palm, and paused for a moment.

"What is this thing?"

Bai Ya tucked the lamp into his sleeve, his voice still a bit hoarse, yet carrying a touch of long-lost flippancy: "Overtime pay. Can't stay up all night for nothing."

Outside the window, the black tide of the distant sea quietly receded by half a foot for the first time.

But beneath the deeper sea surface, something enormous slowly raised its head. It had seen this newly lit small lamp and remembered the scent of this Patrol Lamp-bearer. It had retreated half a step, but it hadn't left, as if waiting for this lamp to burn brighter before swallowing it in one gulp.

In the few hours after the Patrol Crow Lamp landed in his palm, Bai Ya didn't feel like he had become much stronger; he only felt the world was ridiculously noisy. The movements from every Lamp-Keeping Zone were transmitted back through the crow shadows—the sound of the wind, footsteps, the crackling of lamp wicks, and he could even faintly hear the babbling of children in the settlement. He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, filtering and separating them bit by bit, taking a long time to organize those sounds clearly so they wouldn't become a jumbled mess.

Zhao Ye pulled up a chair and sat down, picked up the water cup on the table, and took a sip. The water was cold; he frowned and put it back down, glancing at him sideways: "This overtime pay is quite a handful, seeing how pale your face is."

"At least it's more refined than your fists." Bai Ya drank some water, feeling much better. "Other than smashing walls or kicking doors, even your artifacts aren't as loud as you."

Shen Qinghe, listening from the side, couldn't help but curl the corners of her lips.

In Xinhuo Hall, Lu Chen stood before the stone tablet, watching the new node light up on the Fire Map, tapping his fingertips lightly against the monument.

Artifacts were never rewards; they were new burdens. From now on, every time Bai Ya lit a lamp, he would see the darkness sooner than others, and be more easily targeted by it. The more one could see, the greater the risk of being targeted; this was the unavoidable price for a Patrol Lamp-bearer.

Zero's notification popped up: [Elevate Bai Ya's operational permissions and open full access to the three-city Lamp-Keeping Zones?]

Lu Chen did not agree immediately. He stared at the faint glow of the crow lamp on the Fire Map for a few seconds, but instead added a restrictive command: [The Patrol Crow Shadow must not enter unknown high-risk areas alone; any range exceeding the three-city anchor points must be reported in advance.]

When the message reached Bai Ya's terminal, he was just fiddling with the lamp wick. Seeing the restriction, he raised an eyebrow and replied in the channel: "You don't trust me that much?"

Lu Chen's voice was very calm, coming through the channel: "It's that I don't trust you to cherish your own life."

Bai Ya was silent for two seconds, rarely not refuting.

The small crow shadow in the lamp wick fluttered its wings, as if it also felt that statement wasn't wrong.

When the firelight of the Patrol Crow Lamp first connected to the Grey Net, Zero experienced a brief delay. It wasn't because of insufficient computing power, but because the connectable paths exploded instantly—Old Object Chains, fire points, Lamp-Keeping Zones, anchor points, missing person records, Black Shore residual lines—countless thin lines lit up simultaneously, like an entire flock of startled birds taking flight, densely covering the edges of the Fire Map.

Lu Chen didn't let it all expand. He raised his hand and pressed it against the light screen, his fingertips swiping across, leaving only the paths inside the three-city fire map, while all unknown outer routes were temporarily reined in.

When a lamp is first lit, learning to control the light is more important than learning to shine it far.

The road must be walked step by step, and the lamps must be lit one by one.

As for those unlit lamps deep within the Black Shore, one day, they would all be relit, one by one.