Translator: CinderTL
As a member of both Crimson and the Night Watcher, Luo He was privy to many secrets. After all, both organizations shared the same origin.
Yet, he often chose to selectively forget that past.
Crimson's members were selected from the thirteen founding families of the Night Watcher. As soon as they displayed their talents, they were taken from their families and sent to live in a strange place.
There, they were forbidden from mentioning their past, their families, or even their names.
Vibrant faces were replaced with cold numbers, from 1 to 13. Each unfamiliar designation represented a person.
It was a cold, emotionless place. The thirteen children trained, studied, and honed their skills day after day.
A large, four-story building housed their entire upbringing.
Outside, a walled courtyard offered a rare respite, only accessible on fine days and contingent upon good behavior.
The building was lead-gray, and so were the impossibly tall walls, resembling the face of an old man who had been dead for ages.
They had thought they were the only children here until one day, the door at the end of the corridor opened.
It was an iron gate that seemed to hold countless stories. Its ancient hinges emitted a grating screech as it swung open, releasing a cloud of dust that swirled into the air.
It was like a long-sealed box overflowing with untold tales.
Curious eyes widened, fixed on the scene beyond the iron gate. The space was small, resembling a solitary confinement cell.
There were no windows, only a single incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Strapped to a custom-made iron bed lay a child about their age. The bed was tilted at an unnatural angle, making it look deeply uncomfortable.
The child's body was riddled with countless tubes, surrounded by various machines with colorful lights blinking on their panels.
As if sensing their gaze, the child slowly turned their head, revealing a pair of eyes through the gap in the head restraints.
The moment their gazes met, the watching children were struck by a sensation they had never experienced before.
It was as if they stood on the edge of a precipice, heads bowed, staring into an abyss.
This was their first encounter, ending in an atmosphere of eerie strangeness, even terror. Several of the younger children fainted outright.
Much later, they would learn that the child's name was Zero.
He had arrived long before them.
And the place they were in—this small area enclosed by towering walls—was an orphanage.
Within the Night Watcher organization, it was also a forbidden zone, known as District 13.
A containment center directly under the jurisdiction of Night Watcher Headquarters.
It was here that they were forged into the sharpest and most loyal blade in the Night Watcher organization.
"I watch in the darkness, hoping that more will sing praises to the dawn," Pi Ruan murmured, staring into the flickering candlelight.
"Enough!" Luo He snapped, rarely losing his composure. He disliked the phrase because it dredged up memories he wanted to forget.
"Relax, relax. I won't say a word," Pi Ruan said, rubbing his face. He then put on his usual cheeky grin, squinting at Luo He's cold expression. "Number 3, you didn't come here just to reminisce, did you? Tell me, what did you find?"
"Crippled Liu is none other than Ancestor Yamamoto, a former disciple of the Door," Luo He said. "I found Yangzi and entered her dream."
"In her subconscious, there's a vague sense of familiarity with Crippled Liu. And..." He paused. "I discovered something quite interesting."
"Go on," Pi Ruan said, his interest piqued.
"Do you remember the child Yangzi was holding?" Luo He asked meaningfully.
Pi Ruan frowned.
In the next moment, Luo He lowered his voice. "Her child died two years ago. At the time, the influence of the Easterners was still strong. They gathered and performed a ritual for the child."
As he spoke, Luo He opened his book and pulled out a yellowed, aged photograph.
It showed a group of Easterners in traditional attire. The men wore swords at their sides, while the women leaned forward slightly, kneeling respectfully on either side.
Judging by the scene, all the Japanese present were of high status. Standing among them, facing the crowd, was a man.
Due to the angle, his face was obscured.
But it was clear he was a man.
He held a child in his arms, his attire both bizarre and magnificent. His long skirt trailed on the ground, and people naturally cleared a circle around him.
Even the arrogant Japanese men instinctively lowered their heads in respect when facing him.
"It's that Great High Priest," Pi Ruan said, taking the photo. The eerie and solemn scene immediately brought this to mind.
Near the Great High Priest, a woman's profile was visible, kneeling on the ground.
Staring at the photo, Pi Ruan identified her and said gravely, "It's Yangzi."
If that was the case, the child wrapped in white cloth in the Great High Priest's arms must be Yangzi's child.
Her child was already dead.
"Take a look at this one," Luo He said without pause, immediately presenting another photograph.
The scene was clearly similar, likely taken on the same day. However, in contrast to the solemn and rigid atmosphere of the previous photo, this one felt much more relaxed.
Pi Ruan's gaze slowly swept across the image. Suddenly, her eyes stopped, as if a bizarre suspicion in her mind had been confirmed. "So it really is like this..."
The child who had been held in the Great High Priest's arms now walked closely beside him, their hands clasped together as they ascended a makeshift platform.
Whether due to the lighting or some other reason, the child appeared exceptionally dark, almost like a shadow.
The surrounding Japanese men and women were even more reverent than before, with some kneeling on the ground, their foreheads touching the earth in a posture of devout worship, as if celebrating the coronation of a new king.
The scene on the high platform was blurred, as if veiled by mist. But with careful observation, one could make out a figure through the haze.
It was a tall silhouette, far taller than an ordinary person, with limbs and a physique that were disproportionately thick. It stood motionless in the mist, an eerie sight.
By this point, Pi Ruan had already guessed what was on the platform.
It was a scarecrow.
A massive scarecrow unlike anything they had ever seen.
"This was a ritual," Pi Ruan said, setting down the photo with certainty. "The child was already dead before the ritual began, but after it concluded, he came back to life."
"Hmph—" Luo He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle flame before him, the fire dancing in his eyes. "No, this wasn't just a resurrection ritual. It was a传承—a传承 of lineage."
"I looked up the child's name," Luo He said, tilting his head. "He was also called Ancestor Yamamoto."
(End of the Chapter)
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