The sound of the guards' footsteps pounded against the hallway floor, growing louder—closer. Their shouts now blended with the chaos of other staff who had begun to panic, startled by the fierce, threatening commands.
Luckily, his hand shot out like lightning, grabbing the dirty trays from the table at the end of the corridor. He held them to his chest as if he'd just finished clearing the table. Zhen continued his task until it seemed complete, then strolled toward the inner area of the cafeteria—calm, yet deliberate. Every step was calculated. He mimicked the cafeteria workers whose expressions revealed only the dull fatigue of a shift not yet over.
At that exact moment, a man in a guard's uniform rushed past him, his breath ragged and urgent. Still, the flick of his eyes scanned each cafeteria worker's face, even if only for a split second.
"Scan everyone who looks suspicious!" he barked to the others. "If you have to, search them all!"
Zhen dipped his head slightly and leaned to the left as he slipped through the kitchen door. That's where he turned—a single step into a hidden corridor known only to a few of the ordinary staff.
The passageway was narrow and dimly lit, illuminated only by a faint yellow glow from a crystal lamp dangling from the ceiling. The sharp, distinctive scent of raw ingredients and spices filled the air, masking the lingering trace of tension.
He couldn't wait. His pace quickened into a light jog toward the core kitchen area—exactly where Rusty had told him to go. And just as expected, the room was wider, quieter than the rest. Several narrow paths branched out to seven metal doors, each half-hidden along the back wall.
Zhen approached one of the doors and tried the handle.
'Locked.'
He shifted to the next, his movements as smooth as silk.
'Damn it.'
He kept going, door after door, until the seventh. Still nothing. All were locked.
Zhen remembered the needle he'd acquired and planned to use it. But then it hit him—he had forgotten.
The System was in its Death Hour.
'I can only rely on my brain now! Damn it!'
Footsteps again—this time even closer, like they were headed straight for him.
Without hesitation, Zhen ducked behind a stack of spice containers in the corner, slipping into the narrow space behind them and sinking into the shadows.
The two guards passed by the stack of containers. Their voices grew heavier, more rushed, as they exchanged a few brief words.
Zhen remained hidden in the narrow gap, his back drenched in sweat, waiting until their footsteps finally faded into the distance.
Only then did he slip out of his hiding place, every step stealthy, creeping deeper into the shadows in search of another way out. His hand brushed against the edge of a shelf near the final door—where, strangely, a single fork had been left. Almost as if on purpose.
'Rusty... did he gauge my skill? Is that why he left the fork? Seriously?!'
His fingers deftly worked the metal fork, carefully coaxing the lock's mechanism into place.
The door clicked open.
A gust of cold air swept over his skin, as if the darkness itself welcomed him in.
Before him stretched a narrow path leading to the back fence and the dormitory blocks—areas less tightly guarded than the inner sections.
Just as he prepared to take that first step onto the path, another shout echoed through the air.
Zhen let out a deep breath. Once again, he had to halt.
'What now? Damn these guards!'
The uproar sounded like a chase.
He turned back, peering from behind the open door toward the main kitchen. There—he could just make out the blurred silhouette of someone running.
'Xiran?'
A thousand thoughts exploded in his mind, interweaving like tangled threads, until they converged into a single, chilling realization.
The figure's black cloak was torn at the shoulder, exposing a fresh, bleeding wound. And yet, his face bore the twisted grin of a devil utterly pleased with himself.
Zhen's breath caught. This wasn't part of the plan.
'Xiran doesn't wear black... Did Rusty disguise himself as me? Then why is Xiran—?'
And then it struck him.
'Bait.'
And now, every guard was distracted.
He was beyond the safe zone—there was no way he would waste this crucial moment. Without hesitation, he slipped through the narrow path, his feet moving swiftly and almost soundlessly. Thankfully, his memory was razor-sharp, making it easy to recall the map Rusty had given him.
Finally, a faint smile crept across Zhen's face as he spotted the withered grass and crumbling bricks—shapeless remnants—surrounding the ancient well he had been searching for.
He approached the well, crouched down, and used his fingers to brush aside the moss, revealing a faintly etched circular groove on the stone beneath.
'This part should be pressed.'
One gentle push… nothing happened.
He closed his eyes for a second, shifted his pressure slightly to the right.
A stone shifted, sliding open to reveal a dark gap beneath. A rush of cold and heat enveloped his blood—his adrenaline rising—as a sly grin curved at the corner of his mouth.
'My bloodlust has awakened again! This tunnel reeks of a powerful killing aura.'
Without a second thought, Zhen leapt down into the opening. The gap sealed shut behind him, and his figure vanished into the dark, swallowed in silence.
His feet landed on damp earth. Instantly, the scent hit him—wet soil and iron. A sharp, metallic smell.
This tunnel was unlike any ordinary underground chamber. It was cold. Watching. It felt as though unseen eyes were tracking his every step. Hundreds of them. Yet he pressed forward, each footstep careful, deliberate.
Then, after fifty paces, the stench arrived.
A foul, piercing odor so strong it made him hold his breath—he couldn't afford even the slightest sound escaping his lips.
Zhen's eyes widened. There it was—the river.
A thick, black stream flowed sluggishly, its surface glistening like oil. Still… far too still.
But he knew. This was the river Rusty had spoken of.
'A silent stream that drowns all.'
His reflection appeared on the surface of the river—then changed. It was no longer his face. It was a version of him with dark, hollow eyes and a long scar slashing across his cheek.
His body froze in that instant, breath halted—because he heard it. A whisper rising from the water:
"It's been so long since I tasted the sweetness of thick blood… If not for you."
Zhen held his breath even deeper. But he knew—he couldn't utter a single word. So he waited.
"You've brought three ghost blossom petals. My mummies' favorite flower. That means… you've paid me respect. So there's no need to wait."
Suddenly, without warning, a small dagger—its source unknown—flew toward him and landed precisely at his feet.
"Take the dagger!"
Zhen reached for the small blade and wrapped his fingers around it without hesitation.
"Let your blood touch this river. I can already smell it from you!"
He obeyed. Without hesitation, he slit his wrist. A slow, steady stream of blood began to fall—drop by drop—into the water.
The once-silent river began to tremble, gently at first… then violently. The water split open like a cracking bloom. All of it was being sucked into a void—a monstrous pull from deep beneath. Within mere minutes, the black river had drained completely.
Zhen crossed the dried riverbed in silence, the temperature shifting noticeably with each step.
Now, a sweet, floral scent filled the air—replacing the foul stench from before.
When he reached the edge of the now-empty river, his gaze lifted. The walls were covered in ancient carvings—depicting humans and dark-robed beings sitting side by side.
It reminded Zhen of someone.
"His figure… just like that healer."
As he reached the end of the corridor, a faint green glow appeared—as if welcoming him.
And there… Five hundred glass coffins stood in perfect rows, each containing a single mummy in a meditative pose. Not a single one showed signs of decay.
Zhen stepped closer, overcome with an emotion he couldn't name. Not fear. Not awe. Something in between. Something deeper.
When he stopped before the seventh coffin, the mummy's eyes suddenly opened—Startling him.
But no sound came from its mouth.
Instead, a voice pierced directly into his mind:
"You brought the petals..."