这是一段充满宿命感
The satellite settlement was of modest scale, yet to Xiao Lin, beholding a township of Victorian aspect for the first time, it possessed a certain novelty. The air hung heavy with dampness; the avenues were broad, flanked by slender, narrow dwellings adorned with intricate tracery.
Yet, the town lay desolate. Few wayfarers traversed the streets, and those who did moved with hurried steps, casting an aura of loneliness over the landscape. From the distant reaches, a heavy, rhythmic beating echoed—the slow, labored breathing of industrial machinations.
As they paced the flagstone thoroughfare, Lin Nian assumed the role of guide with dutiful grace.
"This hamlet belongs to the Azure Dragon Mining Company," she intoned. "Three years past, the Company dispatched our Burgomaster, Lan Shiyu, to raise this settlement. The populace now numbers near five thousand."
"And its sustenance?" Xiao Lin inquired.
"Coal, primarily. The town harbors an industrial quarter yonder, where the seams are mined. The yield is rendered unto the Azure Dragon Company."
"So, the inhabitants are all delvers of the earth?" Xiao Lin asked.
"Nay, not entirely. While mining is the official trade, it constitutes but a fraction. We host other tributary souls—actuaries, grain merchants, envoys of minor guilds... and sundry vagrants. Though, I must warn you, some among them are of ill repute."
"Tell me, were I to dwell here, must I also render tribute?"
"In principle, aye. Yet, Master Xiao Lin, you might labor in our stead, working in lieu of coin."
"Labor is a path I shall not tread; I possess a fortune," Xiao Lin declared.
Lin Nian regarded him, her gaze filled with a profound pity.
"What? Is there an issue?" A shadow of unease crossed him.
"The ancient systems of currency have long since crumbled into dust. Paper notes are but withered leaves, worthless save within the enclaves of the Financial Order Consortium—and they, too, are men of dark character."
Xiao Lin fell silent. He had toiled to amass nearly ten million, believing it a bastion of security. Yet, before a single coin could be spent, he had been cast into this realm, reduced to penury once more.
"What then serves as tender? Gold and Silver?"
"Precisely. Gold for grand commerce, Silver for the daily bread. One gram of gold commands a hundred of silver."
Here, Lin Nian's demeanor brightened with zeal. "However, Master Xiao Lin, your Institute is a treasure of immense worth! It could purchase this entire township. Our Burgomaster casts envious eyes upon it."
A spasm of annoyance twitched across Xiao Lin's face. To sell out your Burgomaster so casually... is this truly appropriate?
"The Institute is not for sale," he stated firmly. "That place holds significance for me."
"I comprehend. Yet, Master Xiao Lin, beware the Grave Robbers."
"Grave Robbers?"
"Aye. Those who make their living scavenging the ruins and the wastes. They, too, are not men of virtue."
This one is wicked, that one is wicked—why is this world so steeped in corruption?
Xiao Lin, weary of the litany of villains, was about to press further when Lin Nian suddenly darted forward, halting before a desolate ruin.
"Ta-da! Welcome to the first wonder of the Satellite Town—The Corpse of the Madman."
"The Corpse of the Madman?" Xiao Lin started.
Only then did he perceive the crumbling low wall behind her, upon which a colossal form lay prone.
It was a carcass, some five or six meters in length, clad in dark-grey scales. Membranous wings stretched from its flanks, and its limbs ended in thick, cruel talons.
It resembled a dragon, yet it was not—a spine curved in agony, a skeleton bearing the likeness of man. A chimera of dragon and human.
Yet, it was headless. The severed neck was withered and blackened, as if struck down by a singular, mighty blow.
Before the wall lay the remnants of forgotten rites. Rotten bouquets lay prone in the mud, and lumps of white wax had congealed into grotesque shapes.
"What manner of beast is this?" Xiao Lin asked, awe-struck.
"Not a beast," Lin Nian corrected softly. "A Transcendent. And one of the ancient order."
Xiao Lin scrutinized the corpse. It appeared potent and intricate, inspiring dread. Though death had claimed it eons ago, it bore no mark of decay, having assumed the quality of stone.
He raised his camera, intending to capture images for Yue Taizhou to behold this night.
"They say, in life, this one was a lunatic," Lin Nian murmured suddenly.
"A lunatic?"
"Aye. A 'Professor,' they say. He believed the Mystical Invasion would bring about the world's end and sought to halt it. The world endures, yet he perished. A pitiable fate."
Xiao Lin's hand froze mid-motion.
He lowered the camera, his gaze fixed unblinkingly upon the corpse.
He knew.
This was the remains of Yue Taizhou.
...
From the end of the street, a wind laden with moisture swept through him, bringing a chill that defied description, leaving Xiao Lin momentarily stunned.
Yue Taizhou...
Wherever he walked, there were flashes of light, scribes of the news, and countless accolades. The world had pinned its hopes upon him; he was deemed the one most likely to sever the Mystical Invasion and save the world.
And now, he lay here in state, without a grave, without a stone, his name forgotten by the ages.
Men knew him only as a delusional madman, unaware that he had stood upon the very precipice of salvation...
Yue Taizhou deserved not such an end.
Xiao Lin stepped forward slowly, reaching out to touch the sharp talons of the massive corpse. The sensation of roughness and cold seeped through his palm into his arm.
A memory surfaced, unbidden. He recalled asking Yue Taizhou: "If we fail, what then?"
Yue Taizhou had stood beneath the blazing morning light, his voice gentle: "We shall not fail. So long as we strive, we have not failed. We shall persist until the very last hour before the world's destruction."
Slowly, a resolve hardened within Xiao Lin. He would not let the Salvation Plan perish here...
Not for the sake of the world, but for them.
He would take up the mantle of Yue Taizhou, and walk this path to its conclusion.