Mingya sensed something different about Lei Jin after he woke up, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. But as long as Lei Jin was unharmed, he could relax. He really needed to sleep now. He hadn’t closed his eyes in days.

“How long have we been trapped here?” The cramped space left them barely able to move, their bodies stiff. Lei Jin estimated it had been quite some time.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Mingya doesn’t know. Mingya tried digging a way out, but every time I moved, more of these white stones fell. So I stopped.” Mingya hung his head in shame. He was supposed to protect Lei Jin, yet here they were, helpless.

Lei Jin stretched his neck, his eyes adjusting to the dark. The faint glow from the crystal veins revealed their position—wedged in a corner, relatively safe. Tapping the wall produced a dull thud, suggesting hollowness beyond. This was the second door behind Mingya. His memory of that moment was blank. He didn’t even know how he’d dragged Mingya’s massive beast form out. If Mingya was right, they’d barely escaped before the tunnel collapsed. The cold air meant they wouldn’t suffocate, at least.

“Lei Jin, what are you thinking?” Mingya nuzzled his shoulder.

“How to get out.” Without food, they could last, but without water, they wouldn’t survive long. Rescue in this wilderness was unlikely.

The thought of water made his throat burn. He licked his cracked lips—dry and peeling, yet his mouth tasted strongly of blood. At first, he thought he was bleeding, but found no wounds.

“Mingya?” Lei Jin nudged him, sensing something amiss.

The moment he touched Mingya, he realized Mingya was burning up like a furnace. No wonder it was so warm.

“En?” Mingya rubbed his sleepy eyes, forcing himself alert.

“How have we survived without water? And why are you feverish?” Lei Jin’s hands groped for Mingya’s paws in the cramped space.

“Mingya’s fine. Just tired.” Mingya tucked his paws under his belly, hiding them.

Lei Jin fixed him with a sharp, disbelieving stare and yanked his forepaws out. What he saw made his heart clench—large patches of fur had been torn away, leaving raw, bloody wounds.

“Did you bite these open yourself?” Lei Jin asked after a steadying breath.

“En, Mingya was thirsty. Wanted water.” Mingya traced circles on the ground, nervously avoiding his eyes.

“How could you be this foolish?” Lei Jin felt utterly helpless with Mingya.

“Mingya’s grown now. Can protect you.” The boy’s gaze was clear and resolute, shedding his earlier pitifulness.

“Let me bandage these.” Lei Jin avoided his eyes, unwilling to shoulder another’s devotion. It was too heavy, he couldn’t bear it.

“No need. It stopped bleeding.” If bandaged, Lei Jin couldn’t drink from them.

Lei Jin insisted, tearing his undershirt into strips with trembling hands. The makeshift bandages were clumsy, leaving them both sweating and exhausted.

Over the next two days, Lei Jin tried digging again, but as Mingya warned, each movement brought more collapses.

“Mingya, we might really die here.” Lei Jin’s throat was parched, his attempts to swallow futile. He refused Mingya’s blood, but the boy kept him from biting his own wrist, pinning him down the whole time.

“Eldest Brother and Second Brother will save us.” Mingya’s faith was unshakable.

“Xiya and Moya…” Lei Jin chuckled bitterly. Even if they forgave his betrayal, would they arrive in time? Mingya’s fever burned relentlessly. Without him, escape meant nothing.

“Mingya, do you have a wish? Something you’ve always wanted?” Returning home had driven Lei Jin this far, but now it felt hollow.

“Yes.” Mingya’s immediate answer startled him. He had always thought this little guy, always airheaded and happy-go-lucky, didn’t have much desire.

“What is it?” Lei Jin teased absentmindedly, expecting childish whims.

“Mingya wants you to be his mate.” The boy’s voice dwindled to a whisper, courage faltering.

Lei Jin chuckled. “You’re still thinking of that now?”

“If—if we live, will you agree?” Mingya lifted his head from Lei Jin’s chest, his eyes pleading.

Lei Jin meant to deflect with a joke, pretending not to understand, but the boy’s earnestness disarmed him. He could only reply, “We’ll talk after escaping.”

“If Mingya dies here, you don’t have to—”

“Enough. I agree.” The words tumbled out, sealing his fate.

“Really? You’ll be Mingya’s mate?” The boy trembled with joy and asked eagerly.

“…Yes.” Lei Jin sighed, rubbing his eyes. In his heart he thought, we’re probably dying anyway. Let him have this.

He didn’t yet realize this promise would bind him for life—with no take-backs. He had sold himself out, and when he had been eaten down to the bone, it would be too late for any regrets.

In the dark, Mingya’s blue eyes shimmered. He licked Lei Jin’s lips, grinning like a fool.

Days blurred into delirium. Lei Jin, dehydrated, drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of metallic warmth trickling into his mouth. He wanted to refuse, but his lips wouldn’t obey.

The days moved slowly with nothing to do but wait. But Mingya’s body was cooling his arms and Lei Jin had lost hope. Gathering his last strength, Lei Jin held him close and let darkness claim him.

Not long after they lost consciousness, a white fox wriggled through the rubble. Finding them, it yipped excitedly, stomping on Mingya’s head before sniffing him and whining mournfully.

“Little fox! Did you find them? How are they?” Xiya’s voice echoed from outside. He and Moya had searched for two days, battling monsters until luckily the little fox found this hidden entrance and led them here.

Moya tilted his head to listen closely, then began digging carefully. “They’re close.”

When the rubble cleared, revealing the motionless pair, Xiya and Moya nearly collapsed, seemingly having no energy to move any closer. Eventually, biting their teeth, they checked for breath and sagged in relief, shirts soaked with sweat.

They carried them to a temporary cave, where warm water waited. Lei Jin stirred after gulping salted water, but Mingya’s leg was dire—bone protruding, flesh blackening. Without treatment, he’d lose it. But they had followed in a hurry and only had some hemostatic herbs on them, good for the two front paws but not for the hind leg.

“To the Tiger Tribe.” Xiya decided immediately. The Tiger Tribe was relatively the closest and there at least they could find a healer.

“En, let’s go to the Tiger Tribe to deal with it first, and then rush back to find Chunji as soon as possible. Hopefully there will be a solution.” Moya was scrubbing Mingya’s wound with salt water. It was surely painful, but the little brother who was always afraid of pain didn’t react at all. Moya felt that it should not only be a problem of inflammation of the wound, they must not delay any longer.

“You are talking about Chunji? Is he a young man in his twenties with blond hair and blue eyes?” Xiya and Moya’s whole attention was on the two people they had just rescued, and they didn’t notice when they were being followed.

“Who are you?” Xiya looked at the strange old man wrapped in black standing at the entrance of the cave.

“Tell me first, is the Chunji you mentioned like I described?” The new arrival seemed very anxious. If either Lei Jin or Mingya was awake, they would recognize that this was the mysterious old man they met when they came to the forbidden area.

“Just who are you?” Xiya was a little impatient. His youngest brother and Lei Jin were both injured, so he had no time to deal with this strange person.

“If you tell me, I will help you save him.” The man in black laughed strangely and pointed his finger like a dead branch at the unconscious Mingya.

“Chunji’s skills came from me. Only I can heal those wounds.”

“You’re Chunji’s ‘damn old man’ master?” Moya recalled Chunji’s rants.

The stranger cackled. “Where is that brat? I haven’t seen him in ten years!”

With the strange old man’s help, they bypassed the Tiger Tribe. By the time they reached home, Mingya had stabilized, though they still took him to Chunji.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

At the doorstep, infant wails greeted them. Chunji, scowling, froze at the sight of the old man, his eyes reddened then he dragged him inside, grip tight. “Damn old man, you’re alive?! Help me with this baby!” His actions seemed rough but the hand supporting the old man did not let go.

As the door slammed, Lei Jin stirred in familiar arms.

“I think I heard that child crying again.”

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It was past midnight, and any lingering interest had long faded. So when Liu Si, her beautiful eyes half-lidded, wrapped her smooth arms around him with clear intent, Lei Jin declined, claiming exhaustion. Fortunately, Liu Si was tactful and didn’t press further. With a soft “goodnight,” she took her side of the bed and drifted off.

They had shared a bed countless times—it should’ve been second nature by now. Yet tonight, Lei Jin felt inexplicably uneasy. His head throbbed, and despite lying still for what felt like hours, sleep eluded him. Giving up, he grabbed a robe, snatched a bottle from the liquor cabinet, and headed to the rooftop terrace.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Though summer lingered, the coastal city’s nights carried a chill. Lei Jin sprawled across a lounge chair, the wind clearing his mind. He tried recalling his dream, but the once-vivid fragments had blurred into obscurity. Just a dream after all. Pressing an arm over his eyes, he wrestled with the lingering unease until he realized—he’d brought up an unopened bottle of foreign liquor. Cursing under his breath, he vowed to stock authentic Chinese wine next time.

“Lei Jin, remember to come back!” The boy’s final cry pierced his thoughts.

“Mingya…” The name slipped out unbidden, stirring a rare pang of panic.

Just a dream. It’s over now. Stop dwelling. Lei Jin slapped his own cheeks.

Below, his bodyguards, alerted by the noise, rushed up with guns drawn—only to freeze at the surreal sight of their boss slapping himself in the middle of the night.

Holstering their weapons, one scratched his head and asked in concern. “Boss, what are you doing?” These two had been with Lei Jin since his street-fighting days. Though they respected him deeply, their rapport allowed for bluntness.

“Stargazing,” Lei Jin grumbled.

They exchanged glances. Did Sister Liu kick him out of bed? Their rough—no, unrestrained—boss stargazing? More shocking than the sun rising in the north.

“Boss, should we call Mr. Yu Ran over?” one ventured, wiping sweat. Other then Miss Liu who accompanied their boss the longest, everyone knew Yu Ran was Lei Jin’s latest flame—though based on the man’s aloofness, whether their boss had succeeded in seducing the other remained a mystery.

“Scram. I know what you’re thinking. Can’t a man look at stars?” Lei Jin lobbed the unopened bottle at them.

“Boss, the cerebellum controls movement, not thoughts,” the other quipped, catching it.

“Shut it. You think I don’t know you? Get lost.” Lei Jin waved them off, though their antics had lightened his mood. These men had stood by him through life and death. None of them had much of an education to speak of but they were all loyal and good brothers. If he ever vanished, they’d be his only regret.

If that world had been real, Roger was his sole link. Maybe he could start there and see if it had truly existed.

Outwardly, Lei Jin remained his uncaring self, but those close enough noticed the change—a newfound steadiness, sharper foresight. Most shocking? He’d stopped bedding partners. Rumors exploded in the Qinyan Gang: The boss can’t get it up! Soon, those who were ambitious began leaving pills, nourishing soups, and all kinds of secret recipes on Lei Jin’s desk under other pretexts.

So this city’s people would often see in corners, scenes like this:

“Will the boss recover?”
“One-to-two odds if yes, one-to-ten if no.”
“How long will it take?”
“One month—one-to-one. Two months—one-to-two. And so on.”

By the time Lei Jin caught wind, the gossip was unstoppable. Still, morale had never been higher.

Tonight, Lei Jin drank with the gang’s old guard at Liu Si’s club. But his mind wasn’t in it, he had asked someone to go to Europe to make inquiries. Twenty years was not a long time, but it was also not easy to find a missing archaeologist. Fortunately, Lei Jin was willing to spend a lot of money and finally got some information. However, to his disappointment, there was no such archaeological team twenty years ago, let alone missing people. Of course, more specific information would depend on the email sent. In fact, Lei Jin himself didn’t know whether he wanted to confirm whether the dream was true or false.

“Lei, you’re spacing out. What are you thinking” A scar-faced older man patted his shoulder, a drink in hand.

“Nothing. A toast, Uncle Kuan.” These elders had built the gang with his adoptive father. Though retired, their influence remained. They didn’t make trouble and Lei Jin was also willing to play nice—gathering once in a while and keeping in touch, though there wasn’t anything deeper than that.

“Don’t worry, young man. Rest up, and the future’s bright,” another old man in a dark traditional Tang suit added.

Lei Jin’s eye twitched. Knowing there was no point in explaining, he forced a smile. “Thanks, Uncle Zhou.”

“See? Lei’s resilient. He’ll bounce back.”

Resilient enough to keep lining your pockets? Lei Jin wondered why they had to get together for a drink for no reason? In fact, such things have been happening again and again since he took this position. He knew very well that the reason they supported him to take the position at that time was, firstly, that his power should not be underestimated, and secondly, that he could bring more benefits to the gang. It was normal for everyone to look to their own interests. It’s just that he was in a particularly bad mood today and didn’t want to deal with these hypocritical faces.

Lei Jin signaled Liu Si.

Once “business” concluded, hostesses flooded in, expertly revving the atmosphere. With Liu Si present, none dared approach Lei Jin—until she left to handle a disturbance. Then, his seat became prime real estate. After all, who wouldn’t prefer a young and handsome man to the old fogeys. But every industry had its rules and they didn’t dare to move from their spot. Still, the eyes couldn’t lie and the seductive glances cast from the corner of their eyes kept coming his way.

Rather than stoke the old men’s jealousy, Lei Jin summoned a male escort. The new manager, unsure of his tastes, asked for preferences.

“Just keep it clean.”

The boy who arrived had nearly white-blond hair, huge blue eyes, and a sweet, obedient demeanor. Lei Jin was taken aback.

The table barely blinked—Lei Jin’s bisexuality was old news. Only Zhou Hao, Uncle Zhou’s son and the gang’s second-in-command, snorted from his seat. Their mutual disdain was no secret. Lei Jin pretended not to hear. Zhou Hao was a man who had returned from studying abroad. He was arrogant, but he was at least loyal. Lei Jin always turned a blind eye to him. Of course, the fact that this guy had a very handsome face was also a major reason. At the beginning, Lei Jin had thought about him many times, but then he thought that it would definitely get him into trouble, so he gave up the idea early on.

“Brother Jin, I’ve admired you for so long,” the boy purred, curling into Lei Jin’s lap.

“Oh? What’s your name?” Lei Jin pinched his chin, flashing his trademark smirk.

This time Zhou Hao slammed the cup heavily on the table, stood up, brushed off the hem of his clothes, looked at Lei Jin and the people in the room, and said sternly: “Boss, uncles, I have something else to do, so I’ll leave first.”

By ten, the elders dispersed. Lei Jin took the boy—Ye Er—home. Undressing, showering, bedding him should’ve been routine. But as Ye Er knelt on the mattress, all Lei Jin saw were pleading blue eyes. His arousal evaporated.

He sent Ye Er to a guest room and retreated to his study. The email confirmed it: There was indeed nothing twenty years ago but two years ago an archaeologist by the name of Roger had disappeared. The attached photo showed a black haired, green eyed man at work, a pocket watch beside him—a very familiar pocket watch.

Not a dream. Those people really existed in his life, Xiya, Moya, Mingya, his child, Roger, and many other people were not his imagination. What was going on and why did this happen? The harder Lei Jin tried, the harder it was to remember. He only vaguely remembered these names, but he had a premonition that one day he would forget them all, not a single one, because he knew he could never go back.

A few days later, Lei Jin returned to the villa in the suburbs. Sister Zhou, who came once a week to clean up, left a letter saying that she found some things in the bathroom and put them in a box on the table in the living room. He opened it and found a pocket watch and a ring-shaped black jade. Lei Jin’s complexion was pale, but he calmly put away the pocket watch and found a chain to carry the black jade with him.

Five years later, all memories of that world had vanished—first the faces, then the names. Lei Jin remained unmarried, though he’d doted on Ye Er for years. Only Liu Si stayed constant, joking they should just grow old together. Lei Jin smiled, considering it—yet something always held him back.

The day Lei Jin fell into the sea, he was designated by the other party to go to the high seas in person to settle a big order. However, he was ambushed by a third party on the way, and Zhou Hao’s support was delayed in arriving. It was not uncommon for black eating black in the underworld. He didn’t have any particular regret for his death, but it was a pity for the brothers who had been following him. However, if they survived, Zhou Hao likely wouldn’t kill them all. After all, he had treated Zhou Hao very well in the past few years, and he should remember that at least.

As darkness closed in, Lei Jin remembered everything. The foolish Mingya who’d traded his life for Lei Jin’s departure. If given another chance… maybe he’d choose differently.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Lei Jin, are you awake?” Mingya’s voice.

“Where are we?” Pitch-black.

“Mingya failed you.” He hadn’t expected Lei Jin to turn back for him. Now, they were both trapped.

“So I never left.” Lei Jin exhaled.

“Were you dreaming?”

“A long dream. But I’m awake now.” In every sense.

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Lei Jin and Mingya spent half the day searching the area. The ruins of collapsed buildings were everywhere, overgrown with weeds, but the towering city wall that seemed so close remained frustratingly out of reach. No matter how far they walked, they couldn’t seem to get any closer—as if they were going in circles.

“This place is seriously weird,” Lei Jin muttered, chewing on a blade of grass as he leaned against Mingya, one leg propped up and swinging idly. He couldn’t figure out what was going on.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Lei Jin, what should we do now?” Mingya rolled onto his back, pulling Lei Jin onto his stomach. The two had been lying on this overgrown path for a while now, and the ground was freezing.

“Quiet, let me think.” Lei Jin adjusted his position, resting comfortably on Mingya. This makes no sense. Is there some kind of barrier or illusion at work here? If so, they were in trouble—he knew nothing about this kind of thing.

Remembering Roger’s map, Lei Jin carefully pulled it out along with the black jade stones. But to his disappointment, Roger’s map mainly marked underground passages, with only a few surface structures—all inside that damn city wall.

“Huh?” Lei Jin frowned, noticing something strange.

“What is it?” Mingya perked up, scanning their surroundings warily.

“There are two strange symbols here. What do they mean?” Roger had probably explained them, but Lei Jin had only paid attention to the parts inside the city wall, assuming the rest wasn’t important. Now, ironically, they were stuck outside. There were annotations, but he couldn’t read Roger’s writing.

“Mingya doesn’t understand either.” The symbols were too strange—he’d never seen anything like them.

“Didn’t expect you to.” Lei Jin had been talking to himself anyway.

“But Mingya knows this word!” Mingya’s large paw covered the entire map, blocking Lei Jin’s view of whatever he was pointing at.

“Stop messing around. Let me see.” Lei Jin pushed his paw aside.

“That word means ‘tree.’ Mingya knows it—papa taught us.” Mingya insisted, anxious that Lei Jin didn’t believe him.

“Tree?” Lei Jin’s eyes lit up. He scrambled off Mingya and climbed onto a nearby rock, surveying their surroundings. Everywhere else was overgrown, but to the southwest, trees loomed thickly. Could the entrance to the forbidden area be hidden there? Guessing wouldn’t help—they had to check.

“Mingya, let’s go that way.” The more Lei Jin thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

Mingya obediently crouched, gesturing for Lei Jin to climb onto his back.

“This place…” Lei Jin’s brows furrowed. Why was it here?

Mingya landed in a small clearing.

“Huh? Isn’t this where Mingya first met you?” Mingya looked around at the familiar scenery. Back then, something had urged him to come here. He’d just perched on a tree when a beautiful, scantily dressed female climbed up. His heart had raced—he’d instantly known this was the feeling papa described when you liked someone.

With Mingya’s confirmation, Lei Jin was certain. Despite seasonal differences in the landscape, this was definitely the spot. So after all this circling, the way back is where I came from. That day, he’d felt something unsettling deep in the forest. Now he realized—he’d been looking toward the so-called forbidden area.

As dusk fell, the forbidden area loomed in the mist, exuding an ominous aura.

Gurgle… Gurgle…

“What was that?” Lei Jin turned to Mingya.

Mingya hugged his stomach and grinned sheepishly. “Mingya’s hungry.”

“The mood is practically ruined by you.” Lei Jin patted his head. They hadn’t eaten since morning—with his size, no wonder Mingya was starving.

“Let’s find something to eat.”

“Are we still going there?” Mingya hoped not. The place smelled weird, and he didn’t like it.

“Tomorrow.” Now that they’d found the entrance, one more night wouldn’t hurt. Besides, sunlight might make the place less eerie.

“Oh.” Mingya’s last hope was dashed. He really didn’t like that place, but if Lei Jin was going, he’d follow.

Whether due to the cold or the forbidden area’s influence, it took them a long time to find any animal tracks in the snow. But their patience paid off—they caught a dragon pig.

“Life is complete.” Lei Jin had a complicated relationship with dragon pigs. One had attacked him on his first day here, and now, on his last, he got revenge. It might not be the same one, but close enough.

Rock shelters weren’t rare in the forest—with time and patience, you could always find one. Right now, Mingya was outside gutting the boar while Lei Jin gathered firewood. The damp branches were hard to light, and once they finally caught, the smoke was thick.

Lei Jin skewered the meat, scored it with his knife, rubbed it with salt, and roasted it over the fire. The heavy smoke gave it a smoky flavor. After scraping off the charred bits, the meat inside was tender. Dragon pig was finer than wild boar but more flavorful than farmed pork. They ate some and packed the rest for tomorrow.

Lei Jin woke in the middle of the night to find himself in Mingya’s arms again. Hot tears dripped onto his neck, searing his skin.

“Mingya…” Lei Jin sighed inwardly. This pure-hearted boy had stayed by his side from beginning to end, through all the twists and turns, from the beginning to the end.

Mingya turned his head, avoiding Lei Jin’s hand. His voice trembled. “Lei Jin, are you really leaving tomorrow?”

Lei Jin hummed lightly in affirmation.

“Will you remember Mingya?”

“I don’t know.” Lei Jin stared at the snow outside. He wanted to forget this world and start fresh—but could he? He wasn’t sure.

“Mingya will remember you forever. Elder Brother and Second Brother will too. Even if you leave, remember the way home. We’ll wait for you. Mingya will plant lots of grapevines in the yard so you’ll have grapes when you come back…” He remembered how much Lei Jin loved wild grapes in summer.

“I won’t come back.” Lei Jin hardened his heart and interrupted him.

“Mingya will wait and wait. Until you return.” Mingya clutched Lei Jin’s sleeve, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Don’t cry, Mingya.” Lei Jin tilted his head up in the dim firelight. Mingya’s blue eyes were glazed with tears, droplets rolling down his cheeks.

“How can I leave peacefully if you’re like this?” Lei Jin pulled him into a tight embrace. When he’d first arrived, this kid had loved curling up in his arms. Now Mingya was big enough to hold him in return—but he was leaving.

“Then Mingya won’t cry. Mingya won’t be sad.” Mingya bit his lip, sniffling hard.

Lei Jin’s heart ached, but he forced a smile, tilting Mingya’s chin up. “Let me see—are your eyes red like a rabbit’s now?”

“Mingya really isn’t crying.” Mingya buried his face in Lei Jin’s shoulder and refused to move, his voice thick with tears.

Then what’s soaking my shoulder? Lei Jin thought wryly. Mingya, I’m not worth it. You understand? Someone worthy wouldn’t watch you all suffer and still walk away. You, Xiya, Moya… you all deserve better.

Mingya cried himself to exhaustion. Lei Jin, however, couldn’t sleep. As dawn approached, the cold deepened. He tried to get up to add firewood, but Mingya stirred instantly.

“Lei Jin, where are you going? It’s still dark.” Mingya’s voice was uneasy.

“Just adding wood.” Lei Jin pointed at the dying fire.

“Oh.” Mingya scrambled up, sticking close.

Lei Jin smiled bitterly. Afraid I’ll run off in the middle of the night? He poked the embers, added branches, and blew on them until flames leaped up.

“Lei Jin, look—shooting stars!” Mingya dragged him to the cave entrance, pointing at the sky.

At first, there were just a few. Then, countless stars streaked across the sky toward the southwest—a meteor shower.

Under the same sky, Xiya and Moya were also racing against time.

“Lei Jin, do you have stars where you’re from?”

“Yes.” Though he’d never really looked at them.

“Does it snow there?”

“Yes.” Not like this, though—he hadn’t seen snow this heavy in years.

“…”

“…”

Since neither could sleep, they sat by the cave entrance, watching the stars and chatting idly until dawn. The time for parting had come.

According to Roger’s map, an underground passage between two trees outside the city wall led to the Door of Reincarnation. But after searching, Lei Jin and Mingya only found a collapsed entrance. Abandoning that plan, they followed a crumbling road hidden in the woods.

Up close, the city wall was made of massive stone bricks, weathered but still standing. The gates were two towering black monoliths—each weighing tons. How had the people who used to live here move them?

The gates, unused for years, creaked ominously as Lei Jin and Mingya pushed them open just enough to squeeze through.

Mingya wrinkled his nose in discomfort—the foul stench was getting stronger.

The sight beyond the gates sent chills down Lei Jin’s spine. He suddenly got the urge to turn around and flee, but his will was always strong and he butchered.

Mingya gestured for Lei Jin to climb onto his back.

A broad road stretched ahead, flanked by rows of intact buildings—evidence of past prosperity. But now, the place was eerily silent, shrouded in mist despite the sunlight outside. Shadows lurked everywhere, and Lei Jin felt like he was descending into an abyss.

Then, lights flickered in the windows—approaching.

“Run, Mingya!” Lei Jin shouted.

Mingya, sensing danger, took off instantly, flapping his wings. Behind them, strange creatures emerged—humanoid but covered in gray fur and unable to walk upright, with hooked claws and bat-like wings. Their glowing yellow eyes had been the “lights” Lei Jin saw.

Though Mingya was fast, the creatures were relentless. Plus with a larger number, they soon caught up.

“We need to hide!” Lei Jin said. Fighting blindly was too risky. It was likely that the werebeast disappearances around here were due to these creatures.

“There are only houses, where can we hide, Lei Jin?”

“Definitely not the houses!” Those things had come from inside—entering would be suicide. Even if not, cramped spaces would limit their movement.

As the lead creature swiped at Mingya’s leg, Lei Jin smashed it with a torch. It recoiled but kept coming.

Mingya hid Lei Jin in a thick tree.

“Stay here, Lei Jin.” Mingya nuzzled Lei Jin’s cheek reassuringly before turning to fight.

“Please be careful.” Lei Jin reminded, at this time he couldn’t be indecisive. He would only be a burden to Mingya.

Mingya nodded and turned to battle. Lei Jin couldn’t see the fighting situation clearly in the thick fog. He could only tell from the growls and blows that the battle was quite intense.

Lei Jin was anxious, knowing that no matter how brave and fierce Mingya was, it was impossible for him to handle so many opponents at the same time. But what should he do? What should he do?

Just as Lei Jin was wailing in his heart, a window under the tree was pushed open from the inside. A pair of turbid eyes stared at Lei Jin with a cunning light, and a whistle sounded from his mouth. Then, more creatures began gathering from all directions.

Lei Jin’s blood ran cold. Fine. Let’s see how you like fire. He lit all his oil-soaked torches and hurled them onto the rooftops. To his surprise, the roofs—whatever they were made of—caught instantly. The wind spread the flames rapidly. Seeing this, Lei Jin became a little worried, the forest wouldn’t catch on fire as well, would it? But there wasn’t time to worry about that.

A sound similar to that of a baby crying came from the houses, which made Lei Jin pause. However, when he saw that the fire had dispersed the thick fog and Mingya’s fur was stained red with blood, the last bit of softness in his heart disappeared and he threw torches in one after another.

There seemed to be something very important to them in the houses. Those strange creatures howled and rushed in one after another, but they never came out. The few remaining ones surrounded Mingya and attacked him madly and desperately.

“Mingya, come here.” Lei Jin shouted, came down from the tree, set all the clothes in the basket on fire and threw them at the remaining few creatures.

Though it likely wouldn’t kill them, the distraction bought them time to flee toward the temple at the road’s end. But the temple doors were locked. Lei Jin kicked and shoved, but they wouldn’t budge. The creatures were closing in.

Calm down, calm down. Lei Jin studied the door. There were some patterns on the door, but they were nothing like those in the tribe. The nine numbers from one to nine were represented by nine groups of holes, and there was a fist-sized hole under each group. Lei Jin put the other end of the torch in and tried twice, but it was blocked. The noise behind was getting louder and louder. Suddenly, Lei Jin remembered the time he went to the temple with Xiya. Many things in the temple could be combined in threes, sixs, and fives. Whatever, why not give it a try? He reached in and tinkered with them one by one. With a click, the door opened automatically. Lei Jin pulled Mingya in and slammed the door shut, two claws that had swiped after them got caught by the door and broke off.

Inside, the temple was pitch-black. Lei Jin didn’t care about the deity but he still cupped his fists in respect. He then headed straight for the third room behind the altar, where Roger’s map indicated a hidden passage.

After entering, Lei Jin was taken aback. The tunnel walls were translucent, emitting a faint glow—crystal veins? Lei Jin thought of Chunji, who’d mentioned his homeland’s crystal mines which was why he had a lot of crystal vials at home. But this time in order to keep his leaving a secret, he never even said goodbye to him.

“Mingya, let me check your wounds.” Lei Jin collapsed, exhausted but feeling like they were out of danger for the moment.

“Mingya’s fine.” For some reason, Mingya avoided Lei Jin’s approach.

“You’re covered in blood. How is that fine?” Lei Jin insisted.

“It’s their blood.” There’s no time, Lei Jin, there’s no time. As the houses caught on fire and collapsed, Mingya felt as if the crystal tunnel was also starting to tremble.

“Are you really okay?” Lei Jin lowered his eyes and looked at him, somewhat unconvinced.

“En.” Mingya stood up and shook his fur. The beads of blood yet to dry were shaken off by him, and the silver fur became much cleaner immediately.

Lei Jin was relieved then, turned around and led the way with a torch in hand.

But the winding tunnel eventually led back to the collapsed entrance outside the city wall.

“Mingya, go home from here. The rest is my journey alone.” Lei Jin wasn’t disappointed, only relieved—this way, Mingya wouldn’t face those creatures again.

“Mingya wants to watch you leave.” Mingya crouched in the shadows, refusing to step into the sunlight.

“Fine. But remember—go home after.” If Mingya followed secretly, it’d be worse.

The whole time, Lei Jin didn’t see Mingya’s injured hind leg dragging blood behind him.

At the tunnel’s end stood a translucent door engraved with star patterns like those in the tribe’s temple. Lei Jin fitted the three black jade stones into the third groove and turned them. The door began to rise—and Roger’s pocket watch, silent until now, started ticking. Lei Jin’s heart picked up in excitement. This should be it.

But the door stopped after rising just an inch—barely enough for a mosquito to pass.

“What’s wrong?” Lei Jin anxiously checked for more mechanisms but found none.

Although he knew it was unlikely, Mingya was still afraid that Lei Jin would accidentally see his wound, so he quietly moved to the corner. Inadvertently, he seemed to touch a protruding object. He accidentally pressed it and the door actually began to rise again.

“Lei Jin, the door is opening.” Mingya said in surprise, staring.

“Strange. Did it just jam earlier?” Lei Jin muttered.

Beyond the door was a white void, nothing visible as far as the eye could see.

“I’m leaving, Mingya.” Lei Jin tried to sound casual, but the weight in his chest belied his words. It turned out that when the time to leave really came, he wasn’t as relieved and happy as he thought.

Mingya was already crying silently, unable to speak. He only crouched on the ground, unmoving.

“Don’t cry so much in the future.” Lei Jin turned away, not allowing himself to hesitate any further.

“Lei Jin, remember Mingya! Remember to come back!” Mingya finally broke, crying out loud.

Lei Jin clenched his fists, then unable to resist, he glanced back—and froze.

Because as this door rose, another stone slab was descending behind Mingya, trapping him.

“Mingya, run!” Lei Jin’s vision darkened as he lost consciousness.

“Mingya…”

“Who are you calling, Brother Jin?” Liu Si mumbled, turning on the bedside lamp.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Liu Si?” Lei Jin avoided her outstretched hand, rubbing his throbbing temples. “Where am I?”

“Brother Jin, are you sleep-talking? This is your home. I was hoping for a nice evening, but you fell asleep in the bathtub. I barely managed to drag you to bed, and now you’re calling out ‘Mingya’? Male? Female?” Liu Si smoothed her long hair, poking Lei Jin with a manicured nail.

“Was it all just a dream?” But it had felt so real.

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