On the [Order Keeper] feed, black-and-white wings flared like ink and chalk, blocking most of the inky vines. It drank Lujin Lushi’s Mana dry like winter sap. Seeing Night Frost hauled clear, the two poured Mana into sealing the Abyssal Rift, like stitching a wound with cold light.

The rift closed inch by inch, like lips pressed shut. No vine lunged out this time. The smoothness felt eerie, like silence before thunder.

“I figured the Twelfth District was nothing much. Looks like you’ve got some bite…” The side door of the [Order Keeper] branch swung open with a hush like a tide receding.

Space ripples faded like rings on a pond. A black-robed woman stepped through. Her voice was a woman’s, low and sure. She ignored the Array Pattern glowing at her feet like frost-script, and walked straight to Blade and Moon Owl, her steps neat as a metronome.

“I’m a messenger from the [Seeker]. You can call me Yunling. I’m a Cantata Two. I’m here to use my wisdom to rebuild the Twelfth District.” Her words landed like polished stones.

Moon Owl and the locals bristled like cats in rain. It was old history etched in bone. Born in the Twelfth District, raised on their elders’ warnings, they had no warmth for the [Seeker].

Yunling wore a sheen of arrogance, a glaze on a porcelain cup. She said “Ms. Moon Owl, Ms. Blade” with honeyed tongue, yet her gaze skimmed past them like cold wind. Moon Owl couldn’t find a heartbeat of sincerity in those eyes.

They wanted to drive her out like sweeping dust at the door. But she was a [Seeker] envoy, and the [Seeker] had promised to send aid. The District had opposed, yet a river doesn’t stop for one stone.

[Order Keeper] HQ and the [Seeker] worked together like two gears. The Twelfth District branch had received favors too. In reason and in feeling, they couldn’t throw her out in daylight.

So they let her stay for now, like a hawk hooded on the perch. If she stepped out of line—even a toe—she wouldn’t be allowed to remain in the Twelfth District.

Blade and Moon Owl traded a look, a spark across still water. No words, yet the plan clicked into place. Clever minds share the same lantern.

Blade wouldn’t let Yunling roam alone. She’d wait for the seal on the rift to set like cooling metal. Then she’d take Yunling to the staff quarters. Yunling stared at the screen, eyes fixed like a needle, with no hint of leaving.

On-screen, Night Frost panted like a runner in winter air. She soothed her rattled spirit, exhaling a cloud of stale fear. Her mind wobbled like a lantern in wind, her body heavy as wet cloth.

She’d only used hawk-eye sensing, a quick sweep like a kestrel’s pass. Yet something impossible flashed across her mind.

“An organ? A pancreas?” The word stood like a thorn.

A vivid red organ flickered in her thoughts, wrapped in Abyssal Aura like a heart in smoke. Its shape was blurred by that murk. Yet it was alive, beating its own quiet drum.

It drew in Abyssal Aura and breathed out thicker fumes, like a bellows feeding a forge. Dark vines sprouted from its flesh, night-thorns from a scar. That felt like the core of it all. And it felt far—far as a storm beyond the horizon.

Lucky it was distant. Up close, her mind would have shattered like thin ice. One shock, and she’d be rattled stupid.

Whatever it was, she’d leave it be. She’d slipped the noose by luck. That thing was far beyond her tier, like a mountain to a sparrow.

Spent in both Mana and spirit, Night Frost was lifted by attendants trailing Lujin Lushi like shadows. They slid her onto a stretcher and carried her to the nearest ward. She’d left the hospital a week ago. Now the doors swallowed her again.

She stared up at a ceiling both familiar and estranged, like a home seen in a dream. She could only sigh. The [Order Keeper] casualty rate was a hard, cold number. A nurse dabbed medicine on her wounds with the gentleness of falling ash. Night Frost closed her eyes, letting sleep fold around her.

When she opened them, orange light washed the room like late autumn. For a beat she thought she’d never left that place. She looked around, then remembered: the underground hospital of the [Order Keeper] branch.

Dusk now made her flinch, a small PTSD tremor. The Abyss was endless dusk, a sky stuck between breaths. One glimpse of that light, and she felt dragged back into the Human Abyss. And that Abyss mirrored the Twelfth District like a warped twin.

She pulled the Mana IV from her wrist, the tube snaking away like a shed skin. Mana had seeped back into her veins, a slow tide. She guided it to knit her wounds. Scabs formed like frost. Then she followed old memory through long corridors toward the council hall.

Blade was there, wrapping up loose threads like tying off stitches. Moon Owl had slipped away like an owl at dawn.

The screen was frozen on the instant Lujin Lushi’s combo technique snatched Night Frost from the jaws of those vines. Blade compiled a report, piecing together morning findings on the Human Abyss, each line a nail in the board.

It was the first large-scale, newborn Abyss formed from humans’ grudges and refusal—the thick poison of negative emotion. A landmark in the history of Abyss research, a new scar to map.

“Oh, right. Don’t go to Room 1509,” Blade said, voice like a low chime. “A [Seeker] visitor’s here. Our relations aren’t great.”

Night Frost nodded, a blade of light flicking in her eyes. She wasn’t fond of certain Magic Maidens anyway. Before she understood them, she wouldn’t step close.

Blade pushed the bonus to her card. Not much, and nowhere to spend it here, a coin in a locked box. Night Frost still took it. Useless in the Twelfth District, useful elsewhere. You can’t travel on empty pockets.

It was getting late, the sky steeping like tea. Night Frost headed for the temporary school. At the doorway she ran into Chen Xiaoyin, who looked like she’d waited for ages, worry pressed into her face like a thumbprint.

“Xiao Yao! You’re awake! Thank goodness. I heard you were hurt—we were worried sick!” Chen Xiaoyin grabbed Night Frost in a hug, clutching her like driftwood.

Night Frost gave a wry smile, patting Chen Xiaoyin’s back like calming a horse. She said she was fine—just Mana drained, then blacked out.

“Also, this is a public place. Don’t call me that.” She meant Lingchen Yao. That name was for private rooms. In the open, she was “Ling Shuang.”

“I won’t nag today. The District’s outskirts are swarmed by border forces, gnats at dusk. I dealt with some, then heard you got hospitalized again. Can you please take care of your—”

Night Frost covered her ears, a child warding off rain. Chen Xiaoyin caught herself, glanced at the clock like it had bitten her, then cut through a Moon Owl space doorway. The oval rippled like glass water as she dashed to the border.

Moon Owl’s power was a gift—radiating across the Twelfth District, a traveler’s talisman and a general’s map. Strategically, it was priceless. Thinking that, Night Frost stepped through a space passage and surfaced like a swimmer breaking air.

There was a portal near her rental. She dove into another entry, a swift fish, and came home.

Qianchun worried for Night Frost, yet her hands were full like a juggler’s. As a nominal [Order Keeper], she couldn’t step into that hospital anyway.

Qianchun’s eyes were locked on the computer screen, a city of cells and numbers. A few days ago, the computer was dead as stone. Night Frost followed the power cord outside like a trail and saw a generator humming next door. Her doubt untied itself.

Aklatia had taken sponsorship from the Twelfth District [Order Keeper] and grew like bamboo after rain. For now, it was good. They accepted aid and developed fast, lying low with the [Order Keeper], free from official stones thrown on the path.

Aklatia was local. Before its ruin, it had a few ugly reports, gossip like crows. The worst was a failed live experiment, the subject escaping. The Twelfth District officials ended that story.

Ordinary people don’t parse experiments. Not only Aklatia ran them; the official side had accidents too, like sparks in any forge.

Now everyone knew Aklatia had shelved experiments. They were building the Twelfth District, setting bricks instead of beakers. Popularity spiked like a festival lantern. Pay and benefits weren’t bad either.

Five jin of rice every three days, a small mountain in hungry hands. Contribution points could be traded for tools or food. For those short of grain and water, it was a clean well.

With those edges, Aklatia added two hundred peripheral members in a week, new shoots on an old stump.

Qianchun was busy registering them, and using her funds to buy water and grain from other districts or border groups, like trading wind for rain. She was also negotiating with Blade and her team to form their own caravans for trade.

Don’t be fooled by the rubble—the Twelfth District still had teeth. The Monsters running wild were a trove.

Monster hide made fine cloth, tough as winter bark. Edible Monsters’ meat and bone cooked into solid meals, steam rising like prayers. Claws became sharp weapons, night-bright. Blood and other keratin fed Array materials, red and horned. Magic Stones were sky-high prices, stars you could sell.

With these, Qianchun and the Twelfth District [Order Keeper] made a tidy haul, coins ringing like rain. Add in approved funding, and it was enough to keep the District’s heart beating. Reconstruction moved steady, a cart on firm ruts.

Standing behind Qianchun, Night Frost could see the spreadsheet forests. Qianchun scanned row by row, a gardener’s eye, keeping useful talent and pruning the restless.

Watching her work so hard, Night Frost felt a small ache, a knot in the chest. She herself felt like a hands-off boss, a banner without a hand.

“Here’s the bonus Blade gave me. See where it helps. The caravan’s doable, but we need veterans. We can partner with Blade.” Her words fell like pebbles building a dam.

She paused. The sun outside was dusty and dim, like a lamp behind paper. She drew the curtains, then turned back to Qianchun.

“Also, we can’t lean too much on the Twelfth District. We’re an underground group. We need hidden cards. If the District stumbles, we need capital to resist, right?”

“Last thing. A [Seeker] is in town. Blade told me to keep a guard up. Find a few people to ask around, quietly.”

Qianchun noted it all, then dove back into the computer, a swimmer in data. Night Frost checked the fridge, found what ingredients still had life, and cooked a simple meal for Qianchun, steam curling like morning fog.