The city slept beneath a blanket of silence, but Lin Mo was wide awake, eyes locked on the girl standing at his doorway.
Qin Yue.
In his past life, he'd barely remembered her name. A quiet, polite girl. Always sitting in the back row. Never making a sound. She died young—hit-and-run, if he remembered correctly. Unimportant. Forgettable.
But now, she stood trembling in front of him, clutching a wrinkled flyer in both hands.
"His name is Xiao Lei," she whispered, voice tight. "My little brother. He didn't come home last night. The police… they think he just ran off. But I know him. He wouldn't do that. Never."
She handed the paper to him.
A smiling boy stared back at him from the black-and-white print. Ten years old. Big ears. Bright eyes.
Lin Mo's gaze hardened.
"Where was he last seen?"
"Construction site near Eastside District," she said, wiping her eyes. "He uses it as a shortcut on the way back from school. It's… not exactly safe, but… it's faster."
Lin Mo's expression turned serious.
In his previous life, that area had collapsed mysteriously during his early cultivation days. Authorities blamed it on bad foundation work—but later, rumors surfaced in certain practitioner circles. A dead leyline. A spiritual node. Disturbed. Corrupted.
No one investigated.
Now it was all making sense.
"Let's go," he said, grabbing a hoodie from his closet.
Qin Yue blinked. "W-What? Right now?"
He met her eyes. "You came to me because you trust me, right? So let's go. Every second matters."
---
The chain-link fence surrounding the abandoned lot was rusted and sagging. A warning sign hung sideways, flapping lazily in the breeze.
Lin Mo pushed aside a bent metal panel, holding it open for Qin Yue. She slipped through quietly, flashlight trembling in her grip.
The site was a skeleton—exposed concrete pillars, scaffolding like ribs jutting toward the sky. Puddles of muddy water reflected the moonlight. The silence was thick.
They walked carefully, Lin Mo's senses stretched wide.
Then he stopped.
There.
Blood.
Not fresh. But recent.
He crouched and touched the ground.
Warm. The faintest trace of **spiritual residue** clung to the blood. Twisted. Dark. Definitely not from a child.
"This way," he said.
They followed the trail through twisted scaffolding, across cracked foundations, until they came to a gaping pit—two stories deep.
And at the bottom, hidden behind debris and discarded rebar, was a **metal hatch** bolted into the concrete.
Qin Yue shivered. "What is this?"
Lin Mo didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the hatch.
Several talismans were plastered across it. Old. Crude. But active.
He recognized the style immediately—**forbidden seals**. Meant to hide spiritual fluctuation from ordinary people.
"Whoever put this here didn't want to be found," he said coldly.
He touched one of the talismans. It fizzled and burned out instantly under his qi.
Qin Yue stepped back. "Lin Mo… are you… like them?"
"No," he replied. "I'm worse."
With a groan of metal, he pulled the hatch open.
A foul stench spilled out—mildew, rust… and blood.
Stone steps led downward, into darkness.
They descended in silence.
The passage was narrow and steep. Moss clung to the walls. Water dripped from rusted pipes. Torches flickered ahead—someone was down here.
Then voices.
Low. Chanting. A language not of Earth's modern world.
Lin Mo signaled for her to stop. He crept forward and peeked around the final bend.
The chamber opened wide.
Five robed figures stood in a rough circle around a stone altar. In the center, a boy lay bound and gagged—Xiao Lei.
One of the cultists raised a ceremonial dagger, muttering a final phrase.
Qin Yue gasped behind him, but Lin Mo had already moved.
He snatched a rusted steel pipe from the floor and sprinted in.
The dagger fell.
The pipe slammed into the man's ribs, sending him flying across the room into a stone pillar. The impact echoed like a bell.
Screams erupted.
Lin Mo didn't stop. He dropped the pipe, sprinted to the altar, and ripped the gag off Xiao Lei.
"You're okay," he whispered. "I've got you."
But just as he turned a woman stepped from behind the altar, silent, elegant. She wore a black robe, her face veiled. Only her eyes were visible—**and they glowed faintly red**.
Her presence was cold. Not like a seasoned cultivator, but like someone touched by something unnatural.
She didn't speak at first. She just stared at Lin Mo.
Then she smiled beneath the veil.
> "You're not just some boy."
Lin Mo narrowed his eyes.
"And you're not just some cultist."
She raised her hand.
Black qi swirled around her fingers like smoke.
"Let's see what kind of monster you really are… little immortal."