The old manor sat on the outskirts of Suānchéng, a fog-draped district forgotten by modern maps but not by memory.
Once, it had been the pride of the Yè family — a sprawl of ancient stone, cherry-wood beams, and symbols carved so deep even moss couldn't smother them. Tonight, the gates were broken open.
A van idled outside, its black paint reflecting no light.
Inside the courtyard, five figures moved with mechanical precision. No chatter, no hesitation. They wore gray coats marked by a faint sigil — E.T., three letters burned into fabric like a scar.
One of them — tall, slender, moving like silk through smoke — led the rest. Her face was half-hidden under a hood, her voice calm, almost pleasant.
> Huáng Nián Qīng: "Check the east wing. The old sigil chamber should be beneath the second floor. If the relic's missing, we burn the ledgers."
Follower: "What about the villagers? Someone might've seen us."
Huáng Nián Qīng: "Then make them remember something else."
She crouched beside an ancient tablet inscribed with sigils. The runes shimmered faintly — reacting to her touch.
> Huáng Nián Qīng: "So it is true… the Soul Arm originated here."
Her gloved hand pressed against the symbol. The wood shivered, releasing a ghostly chime.
CUT TO:
The campus cafeteria was noisy and bright — the exact opposite of the old house.
Yè Yī stood in line, phone in hand, earbuds out for once. Students chattered around him.
> Student 1: "I swear Professor Liao's class is a sleep spell."
Student 2: "Still better than Advanced Mechanics. At least there we can cheat."
> Student 1: "Bro, we got our midterm back. Guess who topped again?"
Student 2: "Let me guess — robot one or robot two?"
Student 3: "Both! Qiū Huà Bǐ and Yè Yī. I swear they're secretly competing."
He tuned them out, scrolling through news updates.
Then his phone buzzed. Caller ID: Lǎo Āyí (老阿姨).
The name made him pause. She wasn't family — just the old farmer woman who sometimes watched the Yè property, the one who always brought baskets of persimmons when he visited the village.
He hadn't spoken to her in months.
> Yè Yī: "Āyí? What's wrong?"
Lǎo Āyí: (breathless, panicked) "Ah, child, thank heavens! People are in your family's old house! Strange ones — black coats, moving like thieves! I saw a van outside!"
Yè Yī: "The ancestral house?"
Lǎo Āyí: "Yes! They broke in! Lights—blue ones—filling the windows!
Yè Yī had only been there a few times. He'd gone because the orphanage director said the name matched his on an old record.