They didn't stop until their lungs burned.
Only when the fractured tunnel narrowed into a dead-end chamber—half-collapsed, barely reinforced—did Kai signal them to halt.
"Here," she said.
"This place confuses depth mapping."
Yin Lie leaned heavily against the wall, breath shallow, vision swimming.
Qin Mian reached for him—
and missed.
Her hand passed through empty air for half a second before snapping back.
She froze.
Kai saw it.
"…That wasn't normal."
Qin Mian swallowed.
"I know."
The Anchor Pushes Back
She tried to steady herself.
Tried to pull the Anchor field inward, like she always did.
But something resisted.
Not forcefully.
Not violently.
Like a joint that had been bent too many times and no longer returned to center.
Her head throbbed.
A sharp pain bloomed behind her eyes, then spread down her spine.
She gasped and dropped to one knee.
"Qin Mian!" Kai was beside her instantly.
"I'm okay," Qin Mian lied.
Her voice sounded far away—even to herself.
Inside her perception, the Anchor field looked wrong.
Threads that once aligned cleanly now jittered, slightly out of phase. Every time Yin Lie shifted, the field overcorrected—then lagged.
Like it was learning… badly.
Yin Lie crouched in front of her, panic breaking through his usual control.
"Hey. Look at me."
She did.
For a moment, relief washed over her—
then her vision doubled.
Two Yin Lies.
One solid.
One… heavier.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I think," she said slowly, choosing each word,
"I tried to anchor something that doesn't accept anchors."
Kai's jaw tightened.
"The thing in the wall."
Qin Mian nodded.
"It doesn't resist," she whispered.
"It doesn't push back."
Her hands trembled.
"It just… ignores the concept."
Weight Leaves a Mark
Yin Lie felt it too.
Not pain.
Aftereffect.
Like stepping off a ship after days at sea—the ground felt wrong.
He pressed his palm against the stone.
For a brief moment, the surface distorted.
Not cracking.
Not freezing.
Just… compressing.
Then it snapped back.
Kai stared.
"You didn't do that before."
He pulled his hand away quickly.
"I didn't mean to."
That scared him more than if he had.
The man with the graying beard appeared at the chamber entrance, face drawn.
"You left a trace," he said.
Yin Lie looked up sharply.
"I tried not to."
"I know," the man replied.
"That's the problem."
He crouched, touching the ground where they'd passed earlier.
"The tunnels are… denser," he said slowly.
"Paths that used to flex don't anymore."
Kai frowned.
"What does that mean?"
The man hesitated.
"It means the underground noticed you twice," he said.
"Once as disturbance."
His gaze lifted to Yin Lie.
"And once as structure."
Silence followed.
Qin Mian felt cold.
"…That's bad."
"Yes," the man agreed.
"Very."
The Underground Remembers
Murmurs spread among the residents who had followed at a distance.
"This happened before," someone said.
"No," another replied.
"Not like this."
The woman with the mechanical eye stepped forward, her lens adjusting rapidly.
"Long ago," she said,
"there were places where the ground behaved differently."
She looked at Yin Lie.
"They were avoided."
Kai crossed her arms.
"Why?"
"Because things that stayed too long… stopped being movable," the woman replied.
"People. Equipment. Even ideas."
Yin Lie felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"…I don't want that."
"We know," the man said quietly.
He looked at Qin Mian now.
"And neither do you."
Qin Mian hugged herself.
"I didn't choose this," she said.
"I just didn't want him to fall apart."
The woman's expression softened slightly.
"That's how it always starts."
Above, Something Shifts
Far above them, beyond layers of stone and forgotten infrastructure—
a system recalculated.
Not alarms.
Not sirens.
A pause.
Models updated.
A discrepancy flagged.
In a clean white room, a display flickered once.
A new parameter appeared.
ANOMALOUS DENSITY IN SUBSTRUCTURE
STATUS: UNCLASSIFIED
PRIORITY: PENDING REVIEW
For the first time in years, something below the city
did not resolve into noise.
It resolved into weight.
A Limit Is Named
Back underground, Qin Mian slowly stood with Kai's help.
Her legs shook.
"I can still hold him," she said.
"But not like before."
Kai looked at her carefully.
"How long?"
Qin Mian didn't answer immediately.
"Until I can't," she said finally.
Yin Lie clenched his fists.
"Then we don't stay," he said.
"We move before—"
"No," the man interrupted.
Yin Lie looked up.
The man met his gaze steadily.
"If you run now," he said,
"you'll drag this instability with you."
Qin Mian's breath caught.
"So what do we do?"
The man exhaled.
"For now?"
"You stay still."
He gestured around the fractured chamber.
"You rest in broken places," he said.
"You avoid coherence."
Kai frowned.
"That's not a solution."
"No," the man agreed.
"It's a delay."
Yin Lie closed his eyes.
He could feel it now.
Not the thing in the wall.
Not the city above.
But the truth settling in his bones.
Every step he took
reshaped the ground behind him.
And sooner or later—
something was going to follow the trail.