The Phoenix of the Slums

They moved through the maze of Tiangang’s eastern port with urgency in every step. The blood trail on Tianming’s shoulder was light but persistent, and every time Xiaoqing looked at it, her brows furrowed deeper.

“You need to stop and wrap it,” she said, panting slightly.

“No time. We’re exposed. That Wraith didn’t come alone,” Tianming replied. “He was a distraction. Or a test.”

Xiaoqing looked over her shoulder. “To test what?”

“To see if I’d use the Key,” he said darkly.

She froze. “Wait—you didn’t...”

Tianming didn’t answer.

Xiaoqing grabbed his arm. “You activated it, didn’t you?”

He met her gaze. “Only a spark. Just enough to parry him. But he felt it. That’s why he went all in.”

Xiaoqing clenched her fists. “Then they know now. That you still have it.”

“They’ve always known,” he said quietly. “But now they believe it.”

They reached a drainage tunnel under a collapsed rail yard. Inside was a hidden alcove used by smuggling gangs during the Syndicate Wars. Tianming pushed aside a rusted iron crate, revealing a narrow passage lined with old cables and a sealed door at the end.

“Orchid cache vault,” he explained. “Lu Qingshan left a few behind for emergency fallback. It won’t be much, but we need rest, and I need a map.”

They stepped inside.

It was damp, lit only by a low-power lantern. In the center sat an old military chest and a rusted terminal built into the wall. Tianming opened the chest and found what he was looking for: a folded data-silk map etched with tiny geomantic veins—an ancient fusion of tech and feng-based positioning.

“A bleeding compass,” he whispered. “I haven’t seen one of these since…”

“Since you were a child?” Xiaoqing asked gently.

He nodded. “Lu Qingshan used them. Said they were impossible to fake. They react to the blood resonance of the holder.”

He pricked his finger with a splinter of broken glass and touched the center of the map.

The veins lit up instantly.

Glowing crimson lines began crawling across the silk, forming patterns and connections—routes, ley lines, and energy nexuses all across Tiangang and beyond. But one pulsing red dot flickered away from the rest, isolated.

Xiaoqing leaned in. “What’s that?”

“A core relay node. Underground. Beneath Shisan Tower. That’s where the Seraph protocol leads. If they want to activate global control, they’ll need the origin key—me—and the access core in that tower.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean the massive underground sector below the High Commission? That’s suicide. It’s one of the most heavily surveilled zones in the country.”

Tianming clenched his jaw. “We won’t hit it directly. Not yet. But we need to intercept the data stream before they reconstruct the protocol.”

He opened the other cache compartments. Inside were three weapons, a few vials of accelerants, and a sealed document titled “ECHO PLAN.”

“What’s that?” Xiaoqing asked.

He hesitated, then opened it.

Inside were five names. All of them crossed out. Except one: Yan Renshu.

Tianming’s eyes went cold. “He was Lu Qingshan’s contingency. A sleeper.”

Xiaoqing’s voice was hushed. “Where is he?”

Tianming pointed to the bleeding compass again. A secondary path had just lit up—this one winding northwest through the ruined Old Ward of Tiangang. The district had been sealed off after a chemical attack during the Syndicate Wars. Anyone who went in never came out.

“He’s hiding in the Black Lung Zone,” Tianming said. “If he’s still alive, he’s the last person who might know how to dismantle Seraph.”

“Then we go now.”

But before either of them could move, the terminal flared to life. A distorted voice played through the old speaker system, repeating a name:

“Subject 017… Tianming… return to the Fold. Your evolution is incomplete. The next cycle begins.”

Xiaoqing’s blood ran cold. “They found us.”

“No,” Tianming said. “They wanted us to find this place.”

He looked up at the terminal and saw the truth in its flickering display. A small camera lens blinked with red light.

“This cache vault—it was bait. Not a fallback. They let Qingshan leave this behind to trace whoever accessed it.”

A subtle clicking sound echoed through the narrow passage.

Then another.

Then dozens.

“Detonators,” Tianming breathed. “MOVE!”

They rushed out the passage just as the cache exploded behind them. A fireball roared through the tunnel. The shockwave threw them forward, tumbling across gravel and broken rails.

Tianming covered Xiaoqing with his body as debris rained down.

Silence fell again—but only for a second.

Distant footsteps.

Lots of them.

Figures in sleek armor emerged from the far end of the tunnel mouth, rifles raised. Not Lotus Clan. These were government operatives. Their patches bore the twisted serpent emblem of the Neural Integrity Bureau

Tianming pulled Xiaoqing up. “We’re outnumbered. We split.”

“No! I’m not leaving you—"

“Trust me.”

He tossed her a small capsule. “Activate this. It creates a mirror decoy with your biometrics. You’ll get out.”

She stared at him.

“I’ll meet you at the Black Lung boundary.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated.

Then: “Yes.”

She activated the capsule and vanished in a burst of pale smoke, her image fleeing left. The real Xiaoqing darted right, vanishing into the ruins.

Tianming stood and faced the oncoming agents.

The leader stepped forward. “Tianming, Subject 017, classified anomaly. You are ordered to submit. You carry unauthorized root code that violates the Sovereign Code of 2093. Comply, or be terminated.”

Tianming said nothing.

His hands rose—only to clench into fists.

“I am not your property,” he growled.

And then he attacked.