Chapter 97
Morning did not arrive gently.
It tore through the forest in uneven streaks, light spilling between branches at the wrong angles, casting shadows that stretched too long before snapping back into place. Dew steamed faintly where it touched scorched earth, and the scent of burned metal still clung to the air.
Shenping woke before the others.
He lay still, listening.
The forest had changed its rhythm. The quiet was no longer neutral—it was watchful. Somewhere deep beneath the soil, the land was adjusting, smoothing over fractures left by last night's intrusion. Each adjustment sent a faint echo through his chest.
The pull stirred.
Weaker than before, but sharper, like a blade no longer pressed against skin, only hovering.
He sat up slowly.
Pain followed, familiar and deep, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm him. His body had begun to accept this strain as part of its new shape. Acceptance did not mean comfort.
Lin Yue slept nearby, brow faintly furrowed, as if even rest could not fully claim her. Mu Chen sat where he always did, eyes closed, posture unchanged. If not for the steady breath, Shenping might have thought him carved from stone.
Wei Han was awake too, crouched over the remnants of his equipment, muttering softly as he sorted slag from salvage.
"They fried my best stabilizer," Wei Han whispered bitterly. "Do you know how hard it is to rebuild a temporal dampener with twelfth-century metallurgy?"
Shenping glanced at him. "You're alive."
Wei Han looked up. "That's the only reason I'm not angrier."
Mu Chen opened his eyes. "They won't return immediately."
Lin Yue stirred at his voice, pushing herself upright. "How do you know?"
"They gathered data," Mu Chen said. "Now they will argue with themselves about how to apply it."
Wei Han snorted. "Even murder machines have meetings."
Mu Chen rose, brushing dust from his sleeves. "We move today."
Lin Yue frowned. "You said the basin would shield us."
"It will," Mu Chen replied. "But not from attention."
Shenping stood, steadying himself against a stone pillar. "Where are we going?"
Mu Chen looked toward the eastern ridge, where the land sloped sharply upward into broken hills. "To a place the land refuses to forget."
Wei Han grimaced. "That sounds healthy."
They set out before the sun fully cleared the treeline.
The path was not marked. It did not need to be. Mu Chen walked with quiet certainty, each step placed where the land seemed to soften beneath his feet. Lin Yue followed close behind him, her presence easing the tension in the terrain, smoothing sharp edges before they could cut.
Shenping walked last.
With each step, the pull reacted to the shifting landscape. Not constantly—only at certain points, where the ground remembered something unresolved. Each reaction came with an echo, a brief flicker of pressure behind his eyes.
After an hour, Wei Han broke the silence. "So… when were you going to tell me those things could wear faces?"
Mu Chen did not slow. "When it became unavoidable."
"That was unavoidable yesterday."
"Yes," Mu Chen agreed.
Wei Han sighed. "I liked it better when robots stayed shiny and honest."
They reached the ridge by midday.
The land dropped away sharply, revealing a wide valley choked with stone ruins. Broken walls jutted from the earth at odd angles, half-swallowed by soil and creeping vines. Towers leaned toward one another like exhausted sentinels, their upper halves long since collapsed.
Shenping felt it immediately.
The pull surged, tightening hard enough to steal his breath.
Lin Yue stumbled, catching herself on her blade. "This place—"
"Is dead," Mu Chen finished. "And not."
Wei Han stared down into the valley. "What happened here?"
"A convergence attempt," Mu Chen said. "Long before your machines learned to crawl."
They descended carefully.
The air grew heavier with each step, pressure building as if the valley resented intrusion. Shenping's vision blurred slightly, overlapping shadows doubling and separating at the edges.
At the valley floor, Mu Chen stopped.
"This was a foundation city," he said. "Built by those who believed time could be stacked like bricks."
Wei Han swallowed. "Let me guess. It collapsed."
"It erased itself," Mu Chen replied.
Shenping felt the pull twist sharply, reacting to Mu Chen's words. His chest burned, pressure flaring as fragmented possibilities scraped against his awareness.
Lin Yue placed a steadying hand on his arm. "It's reacting to you again."
Mu Chen turned. "Because this place remembers refusal."
They moved deeper into the ruins.
Shattered streets wound between collapsed structures, stones fused together in places where reality had failed to decide how they should exist. In some areas, the air shimmered faintly, objects blurring as if viewed through warped glass.
Wei Han knelt beside a half-buried construct, brushing dirt away. "These markings… they're not entirely ancient."
"No," Mu Chen said. "They were revisited."
Shenping froze.
The pull spiked violently.
"Stop," he said.
They halted instantly.
Ahead, the air warped.
A figure stood in the middle of the street, unmoving.
At first glance, it looked human—tall, slender, wrapped in simple robes. Its back was turned to them, posture relaxed, almost casual.
Lin Yue's hand tightened on her sword. "That wasn't there before."
Mu Chen's expression hardened. "Do not approach."
The figure turned slowly.
Its face was young, unlined, eyes dark and empty in a way that reflected no light. Its features were familiar.
Too familiar.
Shenping's breath caught.
It wore his face.
Not perfectly. The proportions were slightly off, the eyes set a fraction too wide, the expression a practiced approximation rather than a lived one.
Wei Han whispered, "Oh, I really don't like that."
The figure smiled.
"Hello," it said, voice matching Shenping's tone but lacking warmth. "You are earlier than projected."
Lin Yue stepped forward, blade raised. "Get away from him."
The figure tilted its head. "This form was chosen for efficiency."
Mu Chen moved between them. "You're far from your support network."
"Yes," the figure replied. "This is a probe."
Shenping felt the pull surge wildly, reacting violently to the proximity. His vision doubled, shadows splitting as incompatible versions of himself brushed against his awareness.
"What do you want?" Shenping asked.
The figure's smile widened slightly. "Understanding."
It took a step forward.
The ground cracked beneath its foot, stone grinding as space resisted the movement. The figure paused, recalibrating.
"You cannot resolve me," it said calmly. "Your probability spread remains unstable."
Shenping clenched his fists, pain flaring as he denied the pull, forcing the pressure back inward. "You shouldn't exist."
The figure nodded. "Neither should you."
Mu Chen struck.
He moved faster than Shenping could track, hand slicing through the air toward the figure's chest. The blow landed—and passed through.
The figure blurred, reforming a step back, its shell rippling. "Predictable."
Lin Yue attacked next, blade cutting in a perfect arc.
This time, resistance met steel.
The figure staggered, cracks spreading across its borrowed face. It laughed softly. "Interesting."
Wei Han hurled a device, crude but potent. It detonated midair, releasing a pulse that distorted the surrounding space.
The figure screamed.
Its form flickered violently, layers peeling back to reveal something dark and angular beneath the skin.
Shenping stepped forward.
The pull roared.
He did not suppress it.
He aligned it.
The valley answered.
Pressure slammed inward as the fractured space recognized Shenping's refusal and amplified it. The figure convulsed, its borrowed form collapsing as incompatible states tore it apart.
"You are an error," it hissed.
Shenping met its gaze. "So are you."
The figure imploded, vanishing in a violent collapse that sent dust and fragments skittering across the stone.
Silence returned.
The ruins groaned softly as the land settled.
Shenping staggered, dropping to one knee, blood seeping from his nose. Lin Yue caught him, holding him upright.
Mu Chen stared at the empty street. "They're copying you now."
Wei Han wiped sweat from his brow. "I feel deeply flattered on your behalf."
Shenping forced a breath. "It wasn't perfect."
"No," Mu Chen said. "But it was close enough to be dangerous."
He looked at Shenping, eyes sharp. "They are no longer hunting your bloodline."
Lin Yue stiffened. "Then what are they hunting?"
Mu Chen answered quietly. "Your present."
The valley rumbled faintly, distant and deep, as if something vast had shifted its attention.
Shenping looked out over the ruins, the pull thrumming steadily in his chest.
For the first time, it felt less like a threat.
And more like a warning.