"Bang!"
A muffled thud.
March 7th only felt a familiar dull pain, her vision instantly filled with stars, and then rapidly swallowed by darkness.
(Ugh... why is it always my head...)
This was her last hazy thought before losing consciousness.
Standing at the doorway was Jack, who had come at Black Herta's command.
She calmly watched the target softly fall backward, then quickly stepped forward, reaching out to support March 7th, who was about to fall to the ground, preventing a louder noise.
She then dragged the unconscious March 7th into the room, gently closed the door behind her, isolating them from the outside.
Jack looked down at the unconscious girl in her arms, her golden eyes devoid of any emotional fluctuation.
(Target has lost consciousness, vital signs are stable.)
She deftly helped March 7th to the bedside, then took out a pre-prepared small syringe containing a transparent liquid from an inconspicuous silver bracelet on her wrist.
She brushed aside March 7th's hair on the side of her neck, accurately inserted the needle into the skin, and pushed the plunger.
(High-efficiency sedative, injected.)
After doing all this, Jack looked around, her gaze settling on the sufficiently large wardrobe in the corner of the room.
She opened the wardrobe, moved a few hanging clothes aside, then carefully tucked the deeply unconscious March 7th inside, ensuring no abnormalities could be seen from the outside, before gently closing the wardrobe door.
(Target hidden.)
Jack walked to the bed, tidied the bedding, then, as if executing a program, calmly lay down, pulled up the covers, and closed her eyes.
Her breathing quickly became even and steady, as if she had truly fallen asleep.
Silence returned to the room, with only the steady breathing coming from inside the wardrobe.
Belobog's Trailblaze journey would welcome a "March 7th" tomorrow who appeared the same, but was fundamentally different in essence.
And the real March 7th would be in the wardrobe, having a long and... perhaps slightly aching dream.
Xianzhou Luofu, Commercial Street
Unlike Belobog's cold night, Luofu was experiencing a bustling evening, with lanterns just beginning to light up.
Floating lanterns emitted warm light, various shop signs shimmered with brilliant colors, and the air was filled with the aroma of snacks and the calls of vendors.
Amidst the crowd, a woman dressed in Xianzhou attire, primarily black with dark gold patterns, strolled leisurely.
She wore an exquisite black eye mask that covered her eyes, yet it didn't hinder her smooth movements at all; instead, it added a touch of mystery.
Her snow-white long hair sharply contrasted with her black attire, and a pair of white fox ears subtly twitched in the noisy environment, capturing surrounding information.
It was Baiheng, who had been ordered to procure supplies.
Compared to her previous slight unease, Baiheng appeared much more composed now.
The eye mask granted her special vision, allowing her to perceive various details more clearly, and the attire, infused with Black Herta's power, seemed to give her an inexplicable sense of confidence.
(Wow—it's been so long since I've seen Luofu's night market this lively! Last time I only rushed through it. This sugar painting looks so exquisite! That Qiongshi Bird Skewer smells so good!)
Her heart was fluttering like a bird released from its cage, but she tried hard to maintain the cold and glamorous demeanor that came with her outfit, though her slightly swaying fox tail betrayed her good mood.
She raised her hand and looked at a virtual list projected from her wristband, on which Cyrene had written her requests in elegant handwriting:
~~"Xianzhou starship Navigation Safety Guide (Latest Edition)"~~
~~"Imperial Jade Tile: Beginner to Master"~~
~~"Xianzhou Famous Delicacies: Snacks Edition"~~
"Honkai: Star Rail Astral Express Crew Observation Records (Unofficial)" (Searching...)
~~lotus root cake x 3 boxes~~
soda douzhier x 2 bottles (Hesitating...)
tapir bun roll x 5 boxes (Searching for the shop with the most flavors...)
Baiheng extended a finger clad in a black sheer glove and drew a virtual checkmark next to the completed items.
Her purchasing efficiency was extremely high; relying on her familiarity with Luofu and her current perception, she quickly completed more than half of the list.
("Observation Records"... which bookstall would have a book like this?)
She pondered as she walked towards a stall selling ancient books, her gaze sweeping over the dazzling array of volumes.
The stall owner was an old man with round glasses. Seeing Baiheng's extraordinary attire and demeanor, he warmly greeted her: "Young lady, what kind of books are you looking for? We have everything from rare editions to records of strange tales!"
Baiheng cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound calm and mysterious: "Do you have... any records related to the Astral Express?"
"Astral Express?"
The old man adjusted his glasses, thought for a moment, and then pulled out a somewhat crudely bound book with a Q-version train on the cover from under the stall. "Here, this one, 'Astral Express Anecdotes,' written by a traveling merchant who often runs interstellar routes. It has some interesting stories, I wonder if it suits your taste, young lady?"
Baiheng took the book and quickly flipped through it. It indeed recorded some fragmented observations about the Astral Express Crew (though some parts were clearly fabricated), which perfectly matched Cyrene's curiosity to learn about the outside world.
(This is it!)
She nodded in satisfaction, paid promptly, and drew another checkmark on the list.
Next, she headed towards the famous food street, purposefully searching for the remaining snacks on her list.
She personally detested the peculiar taste of soda douzhier, but Cyrene seemed very curious... (Never mind, I'll buy two bottles, maybe she'll like it?)
Wrinkling her nose, she quickly bought the douzhi'er from an old shop, then eagerly plunged back into the crowd to find the specialty shop rumored to have over a dozen different fillings for tapir bun rolls.
Her white fox ears twitched nimbly amidst the clamor, and her black skirt silently wove through the throng.
Xianzhou Luofu, Street Corner
The clear yet slightly desolate sound of the erhu, like weeping and lamenting, flowed through a corner of Luofu's bustling night market.
The performer was a graceful woman with snow-white hair tied into a neat ponytail and a black veil covering her eyes. This was Jingliu, the former Sword Master of Luofu, who was masquerading as an itinerant artist to conceal her identity while also seeking a moment of inner peace amidst endless darkness.
The bow slid skillfully between her fingers, and the melody was building to a passionate climax, as if pouring out all the pent-up thoughts and invisible sword intent into the strings.
However, at this emotional peak, her movement subtly, almost imperceptibly, paused.
A tremor from the depths of her soul, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, suddenly rippled out.
Her perception pierced through the clamor, instantly locking onto a direction—a fleeting glimpse of a figure in the crowd.
It was a woman dressed in Xianzhou attire with a predominantly black color scheme, snow-white long hair, and seemingly also wearing something to cover her eyes... More importantly, that aura, that sense of familiarity that, even with a completely different appearance, attire, and feeling, still inexplicably tugged at her long-frozen heartstrings?
Is... it her?
That old friend who, during the Shuhu Crisis, for their salvation, should have vanished into the river of history?
Jingliu abruptly "looked up" (though covered by the black veil), and the music ceased instantly.
But just as she focused, that black figure, like ink dropped into a river, was quickly swallowed by the crowd, disappearing without a trace, as if that momentary sensation was just an illusion from the vibrating strings.
The surrounding listeners, awaiting the rest of the music, stirred with some regret.
Jingliu, however, seemed oblivious, maintaining her upward gaze, "staring" in that direction for a long time.
Beneath the cold black veil, no one could see her eyes.
After a long while, she slowly lowered her head and murmured in a voice so low it was almost inaudible, with a hint of bewilderment she herself couldn't quite place:
"...Was it an illusion...?"
The bow returned to the strings, but it could no longer play the previous melody, leaving only scattered, broken notes, imbued with an unspeakable loneliness and a sense of searching.
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