78: Chapter 78 The Bystander of the Longevity Society

The meeting of the remnants of the Longevity Society was not lit.

This was not because they were trying to be mysterious.

In the center of the table sat a cracked Life Lamp.

Half of the lamp wall had been burned through, and a ring of unremovable grayish-white marks clung to the charred edges.

Those marks were not created by ordinary fire; it was more as if something had started from inside the wick, burning the entire lamp's lifespan, ritual methods, and pollution into an empty shell.

It originally belonged to the previous Lamp Watcher.

After the underground auction, the Lamp Watcher's Life Lamp was burned through by the Purifying Flame.

He did not die right there in front of everyone, but he never returned in one piece.

Within the Longevity Society, they claimed he was in seclusion for repairs, but in reality, only a few knew that the person in charge of guarding the lamp room heard coughing coming from the cracked lamp for three consecutive nights.

After the fourth night, the sound was gone too.

So now, no one was willing to sit in the seat that originally belonged to the Lamp Watcher.

The end of the long table was empty.

Sitting next to it was the Remnant Lamp Recorder.

He was not a Lamp Watcher, nor did he ever claim to be one.

He was only responsible for organizing failure records, residual lamp reports, and the inventory of losses from the Old Object Chain.

In the past, such a person was not considered prominent.

In the Longevity Society, those who were more respected were the ones who could light lamps, borrow life, extend lifespan, and preside over old rituals.

But now, no one dared to underestimate him.

Because those who were still alive had finally begun to be willing to look at the failure records.

"The delivery chain for the communication market has been broken," someone said in a suppressed voice.

"The losses for that batch of Old Object mobile phone fragments have exceeded seventy percent, and Li Guibing's line has also been targeted by Torch.

If this continues, the Old Goods Circle will become increasingly afraid to accept our goods."

Another person sneered: "The Old Goods Circle was always just a bunch of dogs that only came around when they smelled money.

If they are afraid, then we will just switch to another batch."

The Remnant Lamp Recorder did not respond.

He pushed a stack of photos to the center of the table.

The photos showed the street corner outside the Qinghe Safe House, the driverless bus pinned down by firelight, the old mobile phone screens that had all gone dark at the same time, and several delivery points that had been burned by grayish-white fire marks.

The photos were all very blurry.

But blurry did not mean they were incomprehensible.

"You have always regarded Torch as a group of people who are good at fighting," the Remnant Lamp Recorder began, his voice a bit hoarse.

"That is why you think that by switching to a new batch of old goods dealers, changing a route, or using a few decoys, you can drag them into a war of attrition."

The person who had just sneered frowned: "Isn't that the case?

They have few people, yet the city is getting bigger and bigger.

As long as there are enough anomalies, they will sooner or later be unable to keep up."

"Perhaps that was the case before."

The Remnant Lamp Recorder picked up another report.

It was the record of residual lines sent back from the Jiangbei Old District.

Paper sedan chairs, the Night Bus, red threads, and mobile phone deliveries—several traces that should have been scattered and spreading were suppressed one after another in the same area.

It was not a natural extinguishment.

Nor was it an official blockade.

Those nodes were pinned down by grayish-white firelight, cut off from the circulation paths in reality, and lost their subsequent delivery value within a very short time.

"Now, it is not," he said.

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

The Remnant Lamp Recorder pointed to a flash of firelight falling from the night sky in the photo.

"Someone is able to arrive in time."

He pointed to the delivery points that had been burned.

"Someone is able to mark them."

He then pointed to the evacuated ordinary people and the faint lamp marks left at the entrance of the Safe House.

"Someone is able to protect the crowd."

Finally, he spread out the backtracking map.

"There is something behind them that is archiving, tracking, and reviewing.

What you see are a few people suppressing anomalies on the scene; what I see is a net that is turning all anomalies into records."

Someone subconsciously looked at the cracked lamp on the table.

It was after underestimating this very thing that the previous Lamp Watcher had his Life Lamp burned through by that fire.

It was not a defeat at the hands of someone who could fight.

It was a defeat at the hands of a system of order he had not had time to understand.

"They are not evil sorcerers, nor are they an official secret force," the Remnant Lamp Recorder continued.

"Evil sorcerers are greedy, and official forces are slow.

The most troublesome thing about Torch is that they record every failure and every victory, turning them into the rules for handling anomalies the next time."

"What is so scary about rules?" someone whispered.

"Aren't those ancient methods also rules?"

The Remnant Lamp Recorder finally looked up at that person.

"Those rules eat people," he said.

"Torch's rules save people."

This sentence made the air in the conference room grow even colder.

The Longevity Society had been able to exist for so long precisely because of the fear of ordinary people, the greed of the wealthy, the wishful thinking of the Old Goods Circle, and the hesitation of official forces.

The more chaotic the anomalies, the more gaps they had to exploit.

But if one day, ordinary people began to believe that the firelight would come, the Old Goods Circle began to proactively return goods, official forces began to provide information, and peripheral informants began to deliver clues into the hands of Torch, then the gaps they relied on for survival would be blocked off bit by bit.

This was more troublesome than the death of a few members.

It was also more terrifying than losing a few old objects.

"Therefore, we cannot continue to test the Fire Keeper head-on," the Remnant Lamp Recorder said, pressing his hand on the report.

"The high-level starfire incident in Jiangbei has already demonstrated that, at least for now, no one knows the upper limit of his personal descent."

Someone asked unwillingly: "Then we are just going to let them expand?"

The Remnant Lamp Recorder looked at the map of Qinghe on the wall.

The Safe House, communication market, old goods warehouse, hospital, and residential buildings—several points were connected by red lines, like a net that had not yet been completely tightened.

"No matter how strong the net is, someone still has to tie the knots."

His fingertips landed on the perimeter of the Safe House.

"Candidates, peripheral collaborators, intelligence lines, and logistics nodes—these are the parts that Torch is truly spreading out right now.

The Fire Keeper is too far away, and the first-generation official members are too tough; do not touch them for now."

"Then who do we touch?"

The Remnant Lamp Recorder did not answer immediately.

He pulled out three photos from the documents.

One was Li Guibing's old goods warehouse.

One was the anomaly video tracking path left by the Spirit.

And another was the blurry figure captured by distant surveillance when Lin Zhao led ordinary people to evacuate from the back door outside the Qinghe No. 1 Safe House.

"Do not be in a hurry to kill," he said.

"Killing will only make Torch tighten the net faster."

"Make them suspicious."

"Make the peripheral people feel that they will drag Torch down."

"Make ordinary people feel that even if the firelight comes, it might not be in time."

He pushed the three photos under the lamp.

"The next time, it will not be to win."

"It will be to measure where this net is the thinnest."

The cracked lamp on the table suddenly made a soft sound.

Everyone fell silent at once.

Deep within the grayish-white charred marks, it was as if a spark that had almost been extinguished jumped.

The Remnant Lamp Recorder stared at that spark, his fingers subconsciously tightening.

He knew very well that it was not their lamp coming back to life.

It was a wound left by Torch, and it had not yet cooled even now.

A moment later, he covered the cracked lamp again.

"Let us begin," he said.

"Do not let anyone call themselves a Lamp Watcher anymore."

"That position has already been burned empty."

After this sentence fell, no one in the conference room retorted.

In the past, they always felt that the Longevity Society was good at hiding in the shadows and watching others struggle, but now it was their turn to sit in the shadows, waiting for a fire to shine in.

This feeling was not good.

What was even worse was that they knew that fire would come sooner or later.