The docks at eleven p.m. were sparsely lit.
A salty, fishy wind swept past rusted containers and decrepit warehouses. Far off on the river, the lights of a cargo ship drifted slowly across the water like wandering stars.
At the eastern entrance, Chen Zhenghao stood with three men.
He wore dark combat attire beneath a black trench coat, expression grim. The three beside him were Chen family elites—two at level 35, and one at level 38: the silent, broad-shouldered Chen Tieshan, rumored to have trained his body to the point of withstanding bullets.
"Where are the Association people?" Chen Zhenghao asked quietly.
"They're not here yet." Chen Tieshan's voice was coarse and gravelly. "Young Master, could this be a trap?"
"That old fox Wang wouldn't dare." Chen Zhenghao sneered. "Old Master Lin personally called Association headquarters yesterday. They have to show respect."
No sooner had he spoken than two figures stepped out of the shadows ahead.
Chen Jing and Li Zhenguo.
"Young Master Chen, sorry to keep you waiting," Chen Jing said, her face unreadable. "Director Wang was called away. He sent us to receive you."
Chen Zhenghao frowned. "We agreed he would take us in himself."
"The situation changed," Li Zhenguo said gruffly. "There's abnormal energy fluctuation in the dock area—likely the Ghost Organization's doing. Director Wang went to deal with it and told us to escort you to the command post."
Suspicion flickered in Chen Zhenghao's eyes as he weighed their words.
Then—a distant explosion.
A muffled thunderclap.
Followed by shattering glass and twisting metal. Flames blazed to the east, staining half the sky red.
"That's Warehouse No. 3!" Chen Jing's face darkened. "Move!"
Everyone rushed toward the blast.
They had barely left for ten seconds when Lu Chen stepped out from behind a nearby container.
He watched their retreating figures, the corner of his mouth tilting upward.
That explosion had been his doing—using a remote bomb supplied by Old Ghost, calibrated to draw attention without causing excessive damage.
The goal was simple: drive all parties to Warehouse No. 3.
The Ghost Organization was waiting there for their "Hummingbird" deal.
The Association was on alert.
The Chen family had come to "negotiate."
Three forces converging—perfect chaos.
Lu Chen didn't follow. He turned in the opposite direction—toward Director Wang's true command post, whose location he had already memorized from the layout map.
A three-story office building in the northwest corner of the docks.
Two Association guards outside, around level 20.
Lu Chen circled behind the building and climbed the drainage pipe. His movements were soundless; Breath-Veil was still active, and the night concealed him completely.
A second-floor room glowed from within.
He pressed close to the window, peering through a crack in the curtain.
Two people inside.
Director Wang, standing before a multi-panel surveillance screen showing nine live feeds across the dock area.
And a young technician typing rapidly at a computer.
"What's the situation at Warehouse No. 3?" Director Wang asked.
"Blast came from a small remote bomb—not strong, but it started a fire," the technician reported. "Leader Li and Leader Chen are already on scene. The Chen family moved with them."
"The Chen family…" Director Wang snorted. "Chen Tianxiong is reaching too far."
"Should we report to headquarters?"
"Not yet. We'll speak once we have the Ghost Organization in hand and evidence secured." Director Wang stepped to the window, watching the flames in the distance. "This operation must be decisive. Headquarters places great importance on the 'Ark Core.' We cannot afford a misstep."
"Understood."
Lu Chen slipped back and climbed to the roof.
Antennas, solar panels, a ventilation shaft—perfect.
He pried open the grate and slid inside.
The duct was cramped but passable. According to the building schematics lodged in his memory, the ventilation system connected to every room.
He crawled like a gecko through the metal passage until he reached a vent above Director Wang's room.
Through the slats, he had a clear view.
He didn't drop in immediately. Instead, he pulled a miniature listening device from his pack, lowered it through the vent on a thin wire, and fixed it to the chandelier.
Then he reeled the wire back and began listening.
Director Wang was on the phone.
"…Yes, they've already begun. The Chen family is involved as well—Chen Zhenghao brought three experts."
The voice on the other end spoke; Director Wang's brows knit.
"I know the risks, but this is too good an opportunity. If the 'Ark Core' is real, it may surpass earth-rank artifacts. Headquarters has hunted it for years…"
A pause.
"Understood. If we haven't secured it by one a.m., initiate Plan B—force the entrance shut."
He hung up.
Director Wang switched the screen to a new feed: a broad clearing in the center of the dock area, where glowing runes spiraled across the ground.
The entrance to the secret realm.
It would fully open in roughly an hour.
Lu Chen checked the time. Eleven twenty.
He had forty minutes.
Outside Warehouse No. 3, the three sides had already clashed.
Chen Jing and Li Zhenguo led five Association operatives; the Chen family's four elites faced them. From the warehouse, eight Ghost Organization members, including their masked leader "Hummingbird," had rushed out.
A tense triangular standoff.
"So the Association plans to rob us?" Hummingbird sneered through his bird-beak mask.
"Rob you?" Li Zhenguo stepped forward. "Vermin like you—no one's robbing anything. We're just cleaning house."
"You can try." Hummingbird flicked his hands; his seven subordinates spread out, drawing weapons—firearms, blades, even two energy weapons matching the scarred woman's earlier gear.
Chen Zhenghao stood in the middle, fury simmering. "Where's Director Wang?! Tell him to come out!"
"Director Wang is handling more urgent matters," Chen Jing said. "Young Master Chen, this place is dangerous. Please withdraw to a safe zone."
"Safe zone?" Chen Zhenghao laughed coldly. "You're using us as pawns and now want us gone? Dream on."
Before the words faded, Chen Tieshan charged.
A raging bull.
Two Association operatives intercepted him but were immediately slammed aside—his level-38 physique, reinforced by the Chen family's Dominating Body Art, made him monstrously strong.
The melee erupted.
Association vs. Chen family vs. Ghost Organization.
Energy blasts, gunfire, explosions, blade strikes—chaos churned under flickering dock lights.
Chen Jing squared off with Hummingbird.
His twin daggers whirled like phantom fangs, swift and unpredictable. But Chen Jing was no novice—her Thunderclap Sword flared with every stroke, lightning gathering along the blade.
"You Association types are so stiff," Hummingbird mocked while parrying. "Decades of practice, yet only a handful of tricks."
"As long as they kill you," Chen Jing replied icily.
She shifted her grip; lightning burst along the sword's length.
The killing move—Thunderstrike.
The air cracked as the blade thrust.
Hummingbird's expression tightened; he crossed his daggers in a desperate block.
Metal clashed—lightning rippled down into his arms, numbing them. He staggered back.
Elsewhere, Li Zhenguo and Chen Tieshan pounded at each other like living siege engines.
Each blow sent shockwaves through the concrete floor.
"Refreshing!" Li Zhenguo roared. "It's been ages since I had someone worth trading blows with!"
"You're good," Chen Tieshan grunted. "But still lacking."
He inhaled; his skin gleamed like burnished steel—Ironbone Stage, third layer of the Dominating Body Art.
His next strike doubled in force.
Li Zhenguo received it head-on—and was pushed back three full steps, arm numb.
"Damn…" he spat. "The Chen family's not playing around."
While the three sides fought bitterly, no one noticed the black figure slipping across the warehouse roof.
Lu Chen.
After confirming Director Wang's plan from the rooftop, he had circled to Warehouse No. 3.
Everyone's attention was locked on the battle; no eyes turned upward.
From the roof's edge, he assessed the battlefield.
Chen Jing pressing Hummingbird.
Li Zhenguo barely holding against Chen Tieshan.
Total chaos elsewhere.
Perfect.
He retrieved Old Ghost's "Blood-Boil Gas"—six glass ampoules.
Then, as light as a falling leaf, he slid down the warehouse's far wall and vanished into the shadows.
The nearest fighters were less than twenty meters away.
He held his breath and waited.
The moment came.
Chen Tieshan and Li Zhenguo collided once more, then recoiled from each other—Chen Tieshan's back facing Lu Chen, only fifteen meters away.
Lu Chen hurled a vial with all his strength.
The glass shattered on impact.
A dark red mist engulfed Chen Tieshan entirely.
"What—?" He inhaled on instinct—then froze.
His blood boiled like molten iron. His heart thundered violently. Energy rampaged in every limb. Veins rose like writhing serpents beneath his skin.
"ARGH—!"
His roar was pure agony.
Li Zhenguo inhaled a trace as well, but it barely affected him. Seeing Chen Tieshan's sudden collapse, he didn't know what had happened—but knew an opening when he saw one.
"Die!"
His fist smashed into Chen Tieshan's chest.
Tieshan tried to block, but half his strength was gone.
Crack.
His arm shattered. Blood—scalding hot—spilled from his lips.
Lu Chen did not pause.
He hurled two more vials: one toward Chen Jing and Hummingbird, another toward the densest melee cluster.
Shatter.
Shatter.
Red mist swept outward.
"Poison gas!" someone shouted.
Too late.
Hummingbird inhaled a mouthful; his movements faltered. Chen Jing's blade pierced his shoulder instantly.
The main battle zone fared worse—half the fighters dropped screaming, their bodies betraying them.
Momentum shifted at once.
Li Zhenguo pressed the attack; Chen Tieshan endured five more blows before a final strike sent him flying through a warehouse wall, unconscious and perhaps dead.
Hummingbird attempted to flee but took Chen Jing's blade through the throat.
Their leader downed, the Ghost Organization's morale collapsed; the survivors scattered.
The Association pursued.
At the edge of the battlefield, Chen Zhenghao stood trembling. He'd brought four elites—one down, two incapacitated, one barely standing.
Worse—he himself seemed to have inhaled a trace of the gas. His heartbeat surged uncontrollably.
"Retreat!" he ordered through clenched teeth.
The Chen family rushed to extract him.
Hidden in shadow, Lu Chen watched.
Almost.
He pulled out the last three vials—and injected himself with the suppressor.
Then he slipped behind the warehouse, where two Ghost Organization vehicles waited.
Keys still inside.
He started one, revved it, and rammed directly into the Association's chase line.
"Look out!"
Operatives scattered.
Lu Chen skidded to a stop at the center of the battlefield, pushed the door open—and smashed all three vials at once.
Red gas filled the vehicle, then billowed out in a massive plume, covering a thirty-meter radius.
Including himself.
But the suppressant held.
The Association operatives were not so lucky.
"My energy—! I can't control—!"
"It hurts—!"
Screams echoed across the dock.
Amid the chaos, Lu Chen became a shadow slipping through the cracks—heading straight for the secret realm.
He snatched whatever was useful along the way: Hummingbird's twin daggers, Chen Tieshan's storage bag, an Association energy sidearm.
All into the backpack.
A few minutes later, he reached the entrance.
A rune-engraved clearing.
A shimmering vortex three meters tall, two meters wide.
Unstable, pulsing.
Four people stood guard.
Three Association level-25 operatives.
And Director Wang himself—level 63.
Lu Chen hid behind a container fifty meters out.
A frontal rush would be suicide.
He needed cunning.
He opened Chen Tieshan's storage pouch.
A few pills.
Cash.
And… a jade token.
Inscribed with the Chen family crest.
On the reverse: Bearer carries the authority of the Patriarch.
Excellent.
Lu Chen palmed the token, exhaled slowly, and stepped out of the shadows.
"Who goes there?!" a guard barked, weapon raised.
"Don't shoot!" Lu Chen lifted his hands, approaching. "I'm with the Chen family. Young Master Zhenghao sent me."
"The Chen family?" Director Wang narrowed his eyes. "Where is Chen Zhenghao?"
"The Young Master is injured and receiving treatment." Lu Chen offered the jade token. "He asked me to deliver this. He says the Chen family is willing to cooperate fully—so long as they receive a share."
Director Wang examined the token. Authentic.
"What does he want?"
"He said the Chen family can forgo the relics inside, but asks the Association to help save Elder Tieshan. And…" Lu Chen hesitated, lowering his voice. "The Young Master wishes to meet you privately. He has important information."
"What information?"
"About the Ghost Organization's 'Ark Core.' He says… he knows its true purpose. And how to extract it safely."
Director Wang's gaze sharpened.
After several seconds: "Lead the way."
"Yes, sir."
Lu Chen turned and led him toward Warehouse No. 3.
Thirty meters in, he stopped abruptly.
"What is it?" Director Wang asked.
"I think… someone's there." Lu Chen pointed at the shadow by a container.
Director Wang instinctively turned to look.
Lu Chen moved.
The energy pistol in his sleeve snapped downward—not toward Wang, but toward a manhole cover on the ground.
Bang.
The cover flew up.
Beneath it—not a sewer, but the bomb he and Old Ghost had planted earlier.
The largest charge.
He hit the remote.
BOOM—!!
A real explosion.
Ten times the force of the earlier one.
A pillar of fire erupted, flipping containers like toys.
Director Wang reacted instantly, raising his qi barrier—but the proximity was too close. He was blasted backward, coughing blood.
The three operatives were thrown unconscious.
Lu Chen had hit the ground before the blast, braced behind the Town-Sealing Tablet shards.
Golden light flared, shielding him from the worst.
He still spat blood. His organs felt crushed.
But he staggered to his feet—running.
The vortex lay ahead.
Director Wang rose from the rubble, blood dripping down his chin. Rage twisted his face.
"You're dead—!"
His palm lashed out.
A level-63 strike condensed into a giant qi hand.
Unavoidable.
Lu Chen grit his teeth, placing all four tablet shards behind him like a makeshift shield.
CLANG—!!
Like a massive bell ringing.
The shards shuddered, golden light flaring violently—but they held.
The force hurled Lu Chen like a missile—
—straight into the vortex.
"No—!!"
Director Wang lunged, fingers brushing the light—
The portal convulsed.
And began to close.
Director Wang reached the shrinking edge. If he entered now, he might be trapped—
He hesitated.
Just for a heartbeat.
And the gateway snapped shut.
Vanished.
Only faint runes glowed on the ground.
The others were rushing toward the scene, alarmed by the blast.
Too late.
The man…
The man with the Town-Sealing Tablet fragments…
Had entered the secret realm.
And no one knew when it would open again.
Tomorrow.
A month.
A year.
Or never.
Director Wang clenched his fists until blood seeped between his fingers.
He turned to the arriving Association members.
"Seal the area. No word of tonight leaves this dock."
"And the Chen family?" Chen Jing asked.
"Inform them their man acted without authorization and caused the premature closure." His voice was ice. "Let them deal with it."
"Yes."
As the crowd dispersed, Director Wang stood alone on the darkened clearing.
A sentence from headquarters' confidential directive echoed in his mind:
If the 'Key' is lost, or the entrance closes—activate the Erasure Protocol. Eliminate all related personnel and evidence at any cost.
He dialed a number.
"Initiate Plan B."
Then he hung up.
Night wind swept the docks, thick with blood and burning metal.
And somewhere in an unknown space—
Lu Chen was falling.
Down toward ruins.
Ancient ruins.
Littered with bones.