That faint grey-white light, originating from the deepest part of Lù Míngfēi's soul, a desperate yearning for 'life,' ignited like the single match struck in an endless winter night, weak, yet tenaciously resisting the fate of utter annihilation.
This miraculous infusion of faint energy, though unable to turn the tide, forcefully halted the train hurtling towards ultimate death, maintaining an extremely fragile balance on the brink of destruction.
Abyss of the Riverbed, Dark Gold Palace.
Time lost all meaning.
Only the extremely faint, yet no longer diminishing, breaths of the curled-up figure proved that some change was happening.
In the deepest reaches of consciousness, upon that desolate ruin.
Lù Míngfēi's wisp of consciousness, which should have dissipated, hung like a tattered doll suspended by the finest threads, hovering before eternal darkness.
That peculiar, gentle grey-white energy, in a way he couldn't comprehend, was infinitesimally slowly seeping in, repairing the very essence of his being, which was on the verge of shattering completely.
There was no pain, nor comfort, only a cold, mechanical sense of maintenance.
【—Unknown energy continuously inputting…】
【Stability +0.001%…】
【Consciousness dissipation rate reduced…】
【Analysis failed…】
【Energy source untraceable…】
The system's noise persisted, but with a hint of… confusion?
Constantine's consciousness fragments seemed to be slightly soothed by this gentle energy; the endless murmurs of cold and fear lessened considerably, like a child who has cried itself out, falling into a relatively stable sleep.
In this bizarre, fragile balance, Lù Míngfēi's remaining consciousness caught an extremely faint… echo from a distant place.
This echo was not sound, but more like a mental radio wave, cold, sharp, carrying scars of tough resilience, and a hint… of weakness and struggle that faintly resonated with his current state.
Who is it?
This thought floated up like a bubble from his nearly frozen mind, only to burst immediately.
He lacked the strength to think, instinctively, greedily drawing on the extremely faint 'sense of being' brought by that echo, a feeling that made him feel… not so alone in his march towards oblivion.
And on the physical level, imperceptible to him, beneath the skin at his heart where the grey-white light had flickered, an extremely subtle, grey-white vascular network, like the pattern on a circuit board, momentarily appeared and then vanished.
Cassell College, Intensive Care Unit.
Chǔ Zǐháng's fingertips twitched almost imperceptibly.
The precise instruments in the medical pod continued to emit steady ticking sounds, all vital signs slowly and steadily improving.
His fractured bones were forcibly healed by the Philosopher's Stone agent, internal bleeding had stopped, and his powerful Dragon bloodline was efficiently repairing his riddled body.
But beneath the calm surface, his consciousness was trapped in a bizarre and chaotic nightmare.
He repeatedly dreamt of those eyes—the left molten gold in pain, the right icy blue in brutality—staring at him from endless darkness.
Then came the bone-chilling cold, as if his soul would freeze, followed by the earth-shattering energy collision, tearing him apart with the shockwave… However, in the gaps of this nightmare, fragmented, unfamiliar sensory fragments, like static from a poorly tuned radio, intermittently invaded his mind.
A sense of… boundless weakness and cold, like the suffocation of drowning in a trench ten thousand meters deep.
A sense of… bizarre discomfort, as if his soul was torn apart and then forcibly pieced back together.
And a faint yet extremely familiar aftertaste of Lù Míngfēi's… unwillingness and persistence.
These fragmented sensations intertwined with his own pain and nightmares, making them indistinguishable, causing his brow to furrow tightly even in his unconscious state, as if enduring double torment.
Unnoticed, on the hilt of the almost scrap, cracked Murasame sword by his pillow, a faint, extremely faint grey-white light produced a barely perceptible… resonance with his heartbeat.
Cassell Command Center.
The atmosphere was still so heavy it could wring water.
Schneider, pinned to his wheelchair like a ghost, stared intently at the final report from the "Pure Land" squad and the chilling instant-kill footage on the main screen.
"Unknown ice-element authority… instantaneous destruction… recommend highest level evasion…"
These words echoed in his mind like a curse.
"Professor, the "Pure Land" squad has safely returned to Port 3. All personnel require deep psychological evaluation," a technician reported in a low voice.
Schneider slowly raised his head, his gaze beneath the metal mask sweeping across the pale, stunned, yet vaguely hopeful faces in the command center.
"EVA, using my authority, seal all subsequent data from the "Bronze Project." Encryption level: "Ragnarok."
His voice was hoarse, but carried unquestionable decisiveness.
"All participating personnel will sign the highest level confidentiality agreement. The official statement to the outside world: The mission encountered a dying counterattack from Norton, resulting in heavy losses; the target is confirmed annihilated."
"Understood."
EVA's projection flickered slightly.
"Then… what about Lù Míngfēi?"
A young researcher couldn't help but ask, his voice trembling.
"Are we… are we not saving him anymore?"
"Save?"
Schneider's voice suddenly rose, with an almost cruel calmness.
"How do we save him? An existence that can instantly vaporize a top Hybrid assassin, possessing unknown Dragon King-level power, in a highly unstable state? Do you want to provoke him again, or drag the entire college down with us?"
The researcher's face turned ashen, and he dared not speak.
"All we can do now is 'observe' and 'wait.'"
Schneider's tone softened, but became even heavier.
"Use all means to monitor that body of water, but never approach it lightly again. Meanwhile…"
He paused, his gaze drifting towards the medical department.
"We need a 'key.' Chǔ Zǐháng is the only one who has established a certain 'connection' with him. When he wakes up, perhaps we can learn more."
Hope and risk coexisted, and Schneider had to make the most ruthless choice.
Italy, Underground Bunker.
Pompeii Gattuso had regained his usual composure, a slight smile even on his lips, as if the previous rage over losing the "King Hunter Spear" had never happened.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, looking at the preliminary analysis report on the screen regarding the fleeting glimpse of ice energy.
"Absolute Zero… incredibly stable energy structure… with mental erosion properties… Interesting, very interesting."
He murmured to himself, his eyes flashing with the obsession of a scientist and the greed of an ambitious man.
"Sir, Cassell has completely withdrawn, announcing mission failure and target annihilation to the outside world."
Alpha reported.
"Closing the stable door after the horse has bolted."
Pompeii scoffed.
"Good. Let them draw fire for us. We can then… study in peace."
He set down his glass and rapidly manipulated the virtual keyboard, bringing up a highly classified document marked "Prometheus."
"Adjust the direction of the "Sacred Plan." Prioritize the analysis of the ice-element energy samples and attempt forced fusion experiments with the "Rhine Factor." We need to create beings that can… 'adapt' to or even 'control' that kind of power."
"The risk is extremely high, estimated mortality rate of test subjects…"
"Resource supply is unlimited."
Pompeii interrupted him, his tone casual but with a chilling cruelty.
"We want results, not the process. Also, let our "friends" in Japan continue to be uneasy. Send the energy fluctuation characteristics from the last transmission of "Hagakure" anonymously to certain radicals in the Monggui Sect."
He wanted to use fear as fuel to drive more hungry ghosts to test the depth of that abyss.
Japan, Genji Heavy Industries.
Tachibana Masamune stood before the large map of Japan in silence for a long time.
On the map, the red markers representing the Monggui Sect's activity areas were becoming active at an abnormal rate, especially in areas near underground drainage systems and straits.
"Patriarch, it seems the Monggui Sect has received some news about 'ice.' Several "Ryoma" and "Dragon Kings" are unusually agitated," Sakurai Nanami said in a low, worried tone.
"As expected."
Tachibana Masamune spoke slowly, his voice revealing no emotion.
"Gattuso's bait always has barbs."
He turned around, his eyes deep.
"Since that's the case, we will go with the flow. Strengthen defenses at all important nodes, especially the base guarding the "God." Let the "Kanto Branch" mobilize, under the guise of 'crushing rebellion,' to stir the waters."
"Then… that existence?"
"It is temporarily irrelevant to us."
Tachibana Masamune shook his head, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes.
"Let the European hyenas and the mad ghosts clash until they break their heads. The Snake Qi Eight Families need… to lie dormant and gather strength."
His gaze drifted out the window, as if seeing through time and space to the secret base hiding the white giant tower.
"The true 'God' can only be controlled by us."
Arctic Ocean, Black Ice Palace.
The blurry silhouette's fingertips moved again.
This time, a thought clearer than before formed like ice crystals:
【Connection attempt…】
【Abnormal resonance detected…】
【Source: Hybrid (high concentration?)…】
【Target: Heterogeneous Fusion Body…】
【Interference factors increasing… Observation continues…】
【Purge program… standby extended.】
The thought dissipated.
In the shadows beneath the throne, the sound of chains rubbing seemed to carry a hint of… impatience?
Three Gorges Riverbed, Dark Gold Palace.
The faint grey-white energy seemed to have exhausted its last strength and stopped injecting.
The fragile balance was still maintained, but neither Lù Míngfēi's consciousness nor Constantine's fragments had seen substantial improvement; they had merely stopped at the edge of the precipice.
That faint echo with Chǔ Zǐháng also became more erratic, as if it could be interrupted at any moment.
However, in this extreme silence and weakness, a deeper change seemed to be quietly gestating at the origin where the grey-white light had flickered.
Like a brand new, unknown sprout struggling in the ashes, trying to touch this cold and dangerous world.
The path to awakening is long and arduous, but the threads of fate have already subtly shifted by an imperceptible angle due to this resonance connection.