Translator: CinderTL
The night was deep.
There are always those who stay up late. A figure stood by the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city drenched in heavy rain.
From the man's perspective, almost the entire city lay beneath his feet.
Holding a black coffee cup, the liquid inside shimmered with a metallic luster, exuding a rich aroma under the faint steam.
He took a gentle sip, and the silver-embedded spoon clinked against the cup, producing a crisp sound.
It was like ringing a bell in his memory.
His gaze remained fixed outside the window.
But his thoughts had returned to a few hours earlier.
In that somewhat shabby parking lot, there was a man in a lead-gray suit, as heavy and sharp as a sword.
An Xuan had never felt such overwhelming pressure before, so strong that it gave him the illusion of not daring to defy, even when facing the old men in the confession room, it was just like this.
There was more than one person in the confession room.
In the depths of the darkness, there were others.
Although he couldn't see them, he could clearly feel the sharp gazes projected towards him, as if they wanted to dissect him entirely.
Looking at him clearly and seriously.
Gong Zhe.
That was the name the man told him.
He wasn't sure if it was true, and he didn't really care. What he cared about was Crimson, and the truth hidden beneath the dark waters of Crimson.
This man named Gong Zhe didn't speak very thoroughly, seemingly worried about causing unnecessary trouble for himself.
But An Xuan instinctively felt that wasn't the case.
The eyes that appeared in the rearview mirror didn't seem like those of someone who would worry about trouble.
In their brief exchange, the other party mentioned the asylum.
He had just been there a few days ago.
To visit his former comrades who had fought alongside him, now eroded and barely surviving.
He didn't know the exact number of eroded comrades in the asylum.
But he knew it was divided into 13 supervision zones.
The people placed there had increasing degrees of erosion.
Zone 1 was the mildest.
Zone 13 was the most severe.
Visits were no longer allowed after Zone 9.
As for Zone 13.
Privately, everyone was rumoring that it was a scene like hell, and those who entered there, even after death, the sins they committed would not be forgiven by God.
They represented the ultimate evil.
Until now, no one could confirm the exact location of Zone 13, some said it was in the deepest underground of the asylum.
Others said there was no such thing as Zone 13, it was just a legend.
"Why are there so many eroded and out-of-control Night Watchers?" Gong Zhe paused, "Have you ever thought about this question?"
The words of Gong Zhe echoed in his ears, and An Xuan's vision gradually blurred.
Of course, he had thought about it.
But only after meeting Gong Zhe did he figure it out.
Not all of this was Crimson's doing, some of it came from himself.
No.
It was the Night Watchers.
To fight against Crimson and the various nightmares, the Night Watchers secretly transformed their own comrades.
In their completely unconscious state, they severed their hands, making them sign contracts with the devil, attempting to control the power behind the Gate.
To fight the devil, one must become the devil.
This was the method.
After all, as self-proclaimed upholders of justice, eliminating Crimson and their followers, along with some of the villains wreaking havoc in the Nightmare, was only one of their objectives.
From its inception, the Night Watchers had only one goal: to end the Nightmare.
To end the Nightmare's erosion of this world.
Over the years, countless brilliant predecessors among the Night Watchers lived and died for this purpose.
If photos of each of them were gathered, they could cover the entire floor of the meeting room.
He wasn't afraid of death.
He believed his fellow Night Watchers weren't either.
But what they feared was being deceived.
And the betrayal that followed after losing their value.
After organizing Gong Zhe's words, An Xuan extracted a few key points of information.
First, a significant portion of their companions in the shelter were not, as publicly claimed, victims of Crimson. Instead, they were the products of failed transformations.
Not everyone had the ability to withstand the curse brought by the Gate.
Only a small portion of them had the aptitude.
Many people suffered mental breakdowns the moment they signed the contract, eventually being devoured by the power behind the Gate—or, more accurately, eroded.
He had pressed for the ratio, but after a few seconds of silence, Gong Zhe said he didn't know.
A rather careless evasion.
An Xuan noticed that as Gong Zhe said this, his expression darkened like iron.
It seemed the ratio was quite terrifying.
Lucky individuals like him were a minority among minorities.
Second, temporarily surviving only meant being preliminarily accepted by the Gate.
This was merely a qualification.
At first, this was difficult for him to understand, but Gong Zhe explained it as a kind of mutual selection.
Similar to... a blind date.
But in this selection, the Gate clearly held a higher position.
After you actively signed the contract, everything that followed would be subject to the Gate's control.
You could borrow the power behind the Gate, but at the same time, you would bear its curse.
The curse could not be lifted; it would only deepen over time. The only way to delay its eruption was to devour new Gates, but this would also further deepen the curse.
This was quite similar to drug addiction.
Third, if one failed to seize new Gates and ultimately couldn't withstand the curse, leading to its eruption, the contracted disciple would face a terrifying consequence.
Complete erosion by the power behind the Gate.
Becoming a walking corpse.
When Gong Zhe reached this point, his tone shifted subtly, and An Xuan suddenly felt an ominous premonition.
"They will completely lose their sanity," Gong Zhe said slowly. "They will become... a walking Gate."
"Eroding the world we live in."
The morning sunlight poured in.
On the pillow, only he remained.
He dressed and went downstairs.
Light streamed through the window, and the air carried a pleasant fragrance.
A graceful figure sat on the sofa, with several paper bags in front of her, the tops of which were soaked with grease.
"Morning," Lin Wan'er said.
Jiang Cheng couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
As if seeing through his thoughts, Lin Wan'er rested her chin on her hand and lazily explained, "Pi Ruan is sick."
Only then did Jiang Cheng seem to understand something, nodding as he sat down.
Since Pi Ruan was sick, Lin Wan'er didn't go directly to his hotel to pick up breakfast, although the secretary who answered the phone politely mentioned that the breakfast was already prepared.
Her boss was a man who valued his reputation.
Jiang Cheng felt that the two of them were quite similar in this regard.
He first went to the bathroom to freshen up briefly, then returned, opened the paper bag, and skillfully picked out Lin Wan'er's portion.
Next, he looked at the tea eggs, rolled up his sleeves, peeled them cleanly, and gently placed them in front of her.
Only after that did he attend to his own portion.
Lin Wan'er watched him quietly, her slender fingers resting by her ear, a beautiful light shining in her eyes.
(End of the Chapter)
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