The Inquisition Black Prison, a structure locals dubbed the "Grave of Eternal Sleep," resembled a jagged obsidian nail driven ruthlessly into the heart of the Mid-Sector. Its exterior walls were forged from light-absorbing obsidian alloy, a material so unnatural it seemed to swallow the very beams of the searchlights roaming its surface.
Gu Hanzhou stood in the shadows a hundred meters from the main gate. His ragged grey cloak had been replaced by a crisp, deep-grey officer's uniform belonging to "Shen Bai," a quartermaster from the frontier legions.
"The Shen Bai identity was meticulously crafted by that 'Old Fox' merchant," Su Qingyue's voice whispered through his micro bone-conduction earpiece from the safety of a distant alley. "But under Duke Mordent's watchful gaze, even a micro-expression out of place will get you shredded. Are you certain about the front gate?"
"The most dangerous place is often the safest."
Gu Hanzhou adjusted his high-collared tunic, his fingers brushing against the hilt of [Black Order]. The divine blade was now wrapped in strips of dull grey cloth, disguised as a standard-issue military saber.
"Mordent is hunting for a 'mine-slave' carrying a wounded woman. He would never suspect that his prey is wearing his uniform, carrying his supply manifests, and walking through his front door with a sneer."
Gu Hanzhou stepped out of the shadows.
He didn't sneak. He walked with a steady, rhythmic gait, embodying the slight lethargy and arrogance of a mid-level official who had spent too many years in the logistics department. It was that specific "greasiness" common among corrupt frontier quartermasters.
At the main entrance, four guards encased in heavy hydraulic exoskeleton suits snapped their electromagnetic halberds into a cross-guard.
"Halt! This is a restricted zone. Unauthorised entry is punishable by death!"
Gu Hanzhou stopped, his expression one of cold, professional exhaustion. He didn't speak immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out an expensive synthetic cigarette, and lit it. He took a long, slow drag, letting the smoke curl around his filtered mask before leisurely producing a micro-chip ID and a supply manifest stamped with the bright crimson seal of the Emerald Street Supply Bureau.
"Shen Bai, Logistics Division C," Gu Hanzhou's voice was distorted by his mask, carrying a raspy, impatient edge. "The 'Blood-Ignition Serums' Lord Lin ordered were heavily depleted during the recent riots. Headquarters has issued a batch of premium reserves for immediate restock. If Lord Lin's experiments are delayed because of you lot, do your heads weigh enough to pay for it?"
The lead guard took the ID and slotted it into his wrist-mounted scanner.
Beep—
[Identity Confirmed: Shen Bai, Rank: Lieutenant. Authorization Level: Tier 3.]
"Lieutenant Shen," the guard's tone softened slightly, but his eyes remained sharp behind his visor. "There was an... incident with Lord Lin at Warehouse 3. The Black Prison is currently under Duke Mordent's direct jurisdiction. All incoming supplies must undergo a deep-scan by the 'Eye of Truth'."
Gu Hanzhou's heart skipped a beat. The Eye of Truth was a high-tier Order-resonance sensor designed to detect the slightest fluctuations in the surrounding 'laws.'
However, he merely let out a derisive snort and patted the heavy metal transport crate behind him. "Scan away. But if these serums lose their potency due to light-sensitivity during your 'deep-scan,' make sure you record the loss under your names on the report."
That specific brand of veteran-slacker entitlement made the guards relax their guard. To them, this was just another arrogant bureaucrat worried about his paperwork.
Gu Hanzhou stepped calmly into the scanning corridor.
Blue laser grids swept over his body like a fine-toothed comb. At that moment, the Imperial Gold blood within him retracted, hiding deep within the marrow of his spine. In its place, he allowed the mundane, low-frequency Blood-Ignition pulses—carefully mimicked from Shen Bai's records—to flow along his skin.
Ding—
[Result: Normal. Cargo: High-Concentration Order Serums (Authorized).]
"Clear! Open the gates!"
The massive alloy blast-doors let out a low, tectonic groan as they rumbled upward.
Gu Hanzhou pushed the metal crate, his boots echoing on the cold, damp, and despair-laden tiles of the Black Prison's corridors. As the doors slammed shut behind him, sealing him within the fortress, the lethargy in his eyes vanished. It was replaced by a predatory calm and a singular, lethal intent.
He bypassed the first patrol zone and turned directly toward the elevators leading to the lower levels.
"I'm in," he whispered into the transmitter.
"Be careful," Su Qingyue's voice was trembling. "I can feel it... Mordent's will is lingering around the third subterranean level. You must pass through the central hub on the second level within five minutes, or the shift-change scan will catch the timestamp discrepancy on your manifest."
Gu Hanzhou pressed the 'Down' button. The elevator shuddered violently, beginning its descent into the dark heart of the world.
He touched his sleeve, feeling the hard outline of a concealed thermal-vibration grenade.
If he couldn't find his father, or if Duke Mordent personally appeared to block his path...
Then he would tear this "nail" out of the Iron City's heart, even if it meant burning the whole mountain down.