The week before Inspector Mo's arrival was a frenzy of controlled panic. The mine underwent a superficial cleaning. Records were meticulously, and often creatively, updated. Slaves were warned to be on their best behavior. The air was thick with the unspoken fear of the man who held the power to end careers and lives with a stroke of his brush.
Shen was everywhere, a portrait of efficient management. But I saw the shadow in his eyes. His alliance with me, however pragmatic, would be his undoing if Mo discovered its true nature. I was his biggest gamble.
Scholar Hong, terrified of his life's work being dismantled, redoubled his efforts to demonstrate my value. He prepared presentations, charts, and ledgers showing the massive increase in efficiency and safety since my integration into the research team. He was planning to sell me as a miracle of modern spiritual resource management.
I prepared in my own way. I had the collective scour every memory, every piece of information we had absorbed about the Main Family, about audits, about bureaucracy. We needed to understand the mind of our enemy. We learned that Inspector Mo was a man of rigid routine, impeccable manners, and utter ruthlessness. He was not corruptible by bribes and was immune to flattery. His only god was the bottom line of the Main Family.
The day came. Inspector Mo arrived not with fanfare, but with a quiet, chilling efficiency. He was a small, neat man with a perfectly trimmed mustache and eyes that held no warmth whatsoever. He moved through the mine like a ghost, his two silent assistants taking notes on spirit jade tablets.
He observed everything. The mining operations, the processing facilities, the guard rotations. He interviewed Elders Zhu and Li separately. He spent hours with Shen, going over every log, every report. His questions were precise, penetrating, and designed to trap you in contradictions.
Finally, it was my turn.
I was brought to a stark, formal office they had prepared for him. He sat behind a simple desk, his hands steepled. Scholar Hong stood nervously to the side, ready with his charts.
"Subject Wa Lang. The 'Stone Eater'," Mo said, his voice as dry as dust. He didn't look at me as a person, but as an entry in an inventory list. "Scholar Hong speaks highly of your... utility. You have apparently increased operational efficiency by thirty-seven percent and reduced slave fatality rates by twenty-two percent in the last quarter. Impressive numbers."
He paused, letting the silence hang. "Explain the mechanism."
I gave him the same spiel I had given the Elders, focusing on the Dark Seed's analytical capabilities and its function as a spiritual data processor. I was a living supercomputer, nothing more.
Mo listened, his expression unchanging. When I finished, he asked, "And the incident with Young Master Jin Lai?"
"It was an incompatibility, Inspector," Scholar Hong jumped in. "The Young Master's cultivation method was too forceful for the delicate interface required—"
"I was asking the asset," Mo interrupted, his gaze finally settling on me. It was like being stared at by a reptile.
"My collective interpreted his spiritual pressure as a hostile threat," I said, repeating the official line. "It triggered a defensive shutdown to preserve the asset's integrity." I used the word "asset" to describe myself, speaking his language.
Mo's eyes seemed to look right through me, into the swirling mass of consciousness within. "A defensive shutdown that caused a Core Formation candidate to suffer a psychic break. A significant risk." He made a note on his jade tablet. "The potential for similar 'defensive' actions against other Main Family members is unacceptable."
My blood ran cold. He was seeing me not as an asset, but as a liability. A flawed product.
"Inspector, the benefits far outweigh—" Scholar Hong began, but Mo silenced him with a raised hand.
"Benefits can be quantified. The risk of damaging a scion of the Main Family cannot." He looked back at me. "Your knowledge, however, is valuable. Scholar Hong, you will compile a complete transcript of all knowledge obtained from this asset. Every spiritual formula, every tactical insight, every piece of data. Once the transcript is verified, the asset will be decommissioned."
Decommissioned.
The word hung in the air, final and absolute. It meant my mind would be mined like a vein of ore, and then my body would be destroyed. I was to be erased.
Scholar Hong paled. "But Inspector! The asset is a unique phenomenon! The knowledge is still growing! To decommission it now would be—"
"—a necessary precaution to mitigate an unacceptable risk," Mo finished for him. "The decision is made. You have one week to complete the transcript."
He stood up, indicating the audience was over. "Dismissed."
As I was led out, I saw the look of utter defeat on Scholar Hong's face. I also saw the grim resignation on Shen's, who had been waiting outside. He had heard everything. Our alliance had just been rendered null and void by a single, unyielding man with a ledger.
Back in my room, the collective was in turmoil. Panic, rage, despair—all the emotions I had been suppressing flooded through us. We had one week. One week until execution.
'The time for subtlety is over,' Liang Jie's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and clear. 'We fight.'
'How?' cried the voice of the young girl. 'They will kill us!'
'They will kill us anyway!' Liang Jie roared back. 'Would you rather die on your knees, or on your feet, tearing out their throats?'
The strategist was silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice cold and hard. 'Liang Jie is right. Our only chance is to create chaos so great that Mo's orderly execution becomes impossible. We use the network Tua Bangka built. We turn the slaves. We turn the disgruntled guards. We use every piece of knowledge we have to sabotage the mine from within.'
'And then what?' I asked, my own fear a tight knot in my chest.
'And then,' the strategist said, 'we make a break for the one place they would never expect us to go. The one place too dangerous for them to follow.'
A realization dawned on me, terrible and absolute. 'The Heart of the Parasite.'
'Yes,' the strategist confirmed. 'We break the seal ourselves. Not to awaken it, but to seek asylum. To hide in the belly of the beast. It is the only place they will not dare to tread.'
It was a desperate, insane plan. It meant trusting the ancient entity we had barely communicated with. It meant potentially unleashing the very apocalypse we had tried to prevent. But it was our only shot.
We had tried compliance. We had tried manipulation. We had tried reform. Now, there was only one path left.
Rebellion.
I looked out the window at the red, oppressive sky. One week. We had one week to turn a mine of slaves into an army, to bring the mighty Demon Servant Clan to its knees, and to throw ourselves into the jaws of a primordial monster.
The Belalang was done being inspected. It was time to swarm.