Ring—ring—
The shrill ringtone exploded through the dorm room, like metal being struck again and again right beside his ear.
Li Ming frowned, turned over beneath the blanket, and reached for his phone out of instinct. His first thought was that he had accidentally set another alarm.
The moment the screen lit up, a burst of white stabbed into his eyes. He squinted.
Not an alarm.
The caller ID was nothing but a row of asterisks.
Most of Li Ming's drowsiness vanished in an instant.
He knew those asterisks all too well—his superior's "special requirement." No name. No number. As if every trace that could be followed had been deliberately erased.
He stared at the line of symbols for two seconds, a tightness creeping into his chest.
The call connected.
"Hello?"
His voice was still hoarse, but he had already lowered it unconsciously.
There was no greeting on the other end.
"Come now."
The voice was low and curt. "There's progress on last night's 'key.'"
Li Ming's brow furrowed immediately.
"Key" was internal jargon, referring to those anomalous trigger points that had been archived yet never fully explained. Most of the time, they lay dormant in the database for months—sometimes years—without ever being mentioned again.
"But I've got an eight a.m. class—"
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
A cold laugh came through the phone.
"When was the last time you actually went to an eight a.m.?"
Silence filled the air.
Li Ming opened his mouth, but couldn't find a single word to argue back.
Ever since he had "temporarily" joined that department half a year ago, his class schedule had become a formality at best. Overnight shifts, fieldwork, sudden assignments—this was normal now.
"I'll send you the location," the man said. "Be there in twenty minutes."
The call was cut off.
As the screen went dark, the dorm room fell silent again. Outside, dawn had yet to break; distant streetlights blurred into hazy yellow smears through the mist.
Li Ming sat on the bed and let out a slow breath.
06:13.
Moments later, the dorm was filled with frantic movement.
Cold water splashed against his face, forcibly driving away the last traces of sleep. Toothbrush, jacket, credentials—all shoved into his bag in one motion. He paused briefly before the mirror. The face staring back at him looked tired, but his eyes were sharper than ever.
The door shut behind him.
The chill of early morning air rushed to meet him.
Li Ming strode out of the dormitory. He didn't know what kind of "anomaly" awaited him this time, but he knew one thing for certain—
Whenever those asterisks lit up his screen, something had crossed a boundary humanity was never meant to understand.
And he had to reach the scene first.
Just as he left the dormitory area, his phone vibrated.
An encrypted message appeared—no sender ID, only a short line of text and a set of coordinates:
[Assemble at the eastern perimeter of District 13.]
He glanced at the map, his pace unconsciously quickening.
District 13 lay on the western edge of the city, an old quarter long marked for abandonment. Years ago, there had been proposals for full demolition, but disputes over property rights had stalled everything. Densely populated, structurally decayed—exactly the kind of place where nothing should happen, and where anything could.
Twenty minutes later, he spotted the familiar black isolation tape at the district's edge.
Police cars blocked the intersection without sirens. Officers stood by the cordon, faces stern, clearly under orders to keep silent. Pedestrians were diverted away, given no real explanation.
"Gas maintenance," "electrical failure"—excuses worn thin from overuse.
Li Ming showed his credentials and slipped past the perimeter.
At a corner, he found his people.
"Brother Zhou. Sister Lin."
"You made it," Lin Xi said with a nod.
"Right on time," Zhou replied flatly.
Zhou was his direct superior, though he never used Li Ming's full name. Lin Xi, like him, was a "temporary hire."
"You know the situation," Zhou said. "Preliminary assessment: a Class C paranormal incident. You're to enter the boundary and neutralize or dispel the anomaly, provided it's safe to do so."
He paused.
"Watch your timers. Leave at least thirty minutes for withdrawal."
"Copy."
"Copy."
Moments later, Li Ming and Lin Xi stepped into District 13.
"You have entered the boundary. Countdown has begun."
Zhou's voice crackled through the radio.
Li Ming looked down at the pocket watch on his wrist.
4:55:12.
—Still a five-hour threshold.
According to the research division, it was the maximum safe exploration time based on individual physical tolerance. Exceed it, and the risk of "contamination" rose sharply. In severe cases, sanity itself would be lost.
"Paranormal fluctuations detected," Lin Xi said quietly.
Li Ming raised his head.
Before them stood a five-story residential building. Its exterior was scorched and mottled, and the air reeked of blood so thick that instruments were almost unnecessary to confirm something was wrong.
"This should be it," Li Ming murmured.
The moment his words fell, the watch's hand twitched with a faint click.
The air changed.
What had merely been a sharp stench of blood suddenly deepened the instant they stepped onto the open space before the building—stirred, as if something had disturbed it, carrying a damp, ancient rot. Li Ming swallowed and forced himself to slow his breathing.
"Sensory perception is amplified inside the boundary," he warned.
Lin Xi nodded, her right hand already resting on the containment device at her waist, knuckles pale.
The building's entrance door hung half open, warped as though something inside had slammed against it with tremendous force. Charred marks clung to the frame, yet there was no ash—fire that seemed to have existed only for a moment.
Li Ming pushed the door.
Creeeeak.
The sound stretched unnaturally down the stairwell, echo upon echo, refusing to fade.
There were no lights inside.
The windows had been sealed with something black—plastic, paint, or some dried, viscous substance. Only the emergency exit sign still glowed, its sickly green light coating the walls like unhealthy moss.
"Time check," Lin Xi whispered.
Li Ming glanced at his watch.
4:53:41.
"Flow is normal," he said.
They stepped into the corridor, one after the other.
The instant their footsteps landed, Li Ming felt it.
Too clear.
The echoes weren't simply bouncing back—they were being caught, delayed by half a beat, then returned intact.
As if the building were listening.
"Don't turn around," he said suddenly.
Lin Xi halted, but didn't look back. "You heard it too?"
"Yeah."
It wasn't footsteps.
It was breathing.
Just behind them—woven into the echoes—faint, uneven, deliberately mimicking a human rhythm.
Li Ming said nothing more, only raised his hand in a silent signal to stop.
They froze.
The breathing stopped as well.
The next second—
Bang!
A heavy thud slammed from above, like something massive being dragged and hurled into a wall. The entire building shuddered; flakes of plaster rained down.
Lin Xi cursed under her breath.
"Not a single anomaly," she said quickly. "At least two reactive sources."
"Or—" Li Ming lowered his voice, "it's testing us."
Static burst through the radio as Zhou's voice cut in, fragmented.
"…signal degrading… your position… first floor?"
"Copy, but unclear," Li Ming pressed the earpiece. "Multiple anomalies confirmed. Suspected environmental response capability."
"Don't push deeper yet," Zhou said, his voice stabilizing briefly. "Locate the contamination source first."
Before he finished—
The green emergency light flickered.
Then went out.
The corridor plunged into total darkness.
Not the absence of light—
but a darkness so complete it felt as if even sight itself had been taken away.
Lin Xi sucked in a sharp breath.
"The light's been eaten."
Li Ming's heart sank.
This wasn't in the briefing.
He was about to speak when a voice whispered right beside his ear—so close it felt like someone leaning in, speaking almost gently:
"You finally… came inside."
The watch's hands began to turn backward.