At eleven, the Public Security Bureau cleared a small dining room for the seven of them.

  A long table. Eight trays. Eight pairs of eyes.

  The food was simple and steaming—white rice, soft bread, glossy chicken legs, fried eggs crisp at the edges, a clear broth with a few floating greens. Steam curled up and vanished into the cold air. Fleeting. Fragile. Like breath.

  YiChen sat at the far end. He ate neither fast nor slow, calm to the point of danger. Every motion measured, deliberate—as if this were only lunch, not the meal before battle.

  Logan devoured rice in heavy gulps, biting a drumstick until the bone cracked. He chewed like he could grind the unease to dust, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Hot food before a mission? Already a blessing.”

  Han Yue never looked up. The sniper’s eyes flicked across faces like a scope, landing finally on his reflection in the spoon—cold, still.

  Jack reached for a dish. His chopsticks trembled; he froze them, pressing fingers to his palm as if steam had seared him.

  No one said goodbye.

  No one said come back safe.

  They cleared the table in silence and left.

  ?

  The transport truck crouched in the lot, matte gray swallowing the thin winter light. A beast at rest, claws sheathed in steel.

  YiChen climbed in first.

  The cabin was stripped and efficient:

  ? Left wall: tactical axes, grips wrapped in cord.

  ? Right wall: crossbows and ammo belts.

  ? Center: medical kits bolted beside rations and crates of magazines.

  ? Overhead: a slim rack of throwing knives—titanium, numbered, perfectly balanced; blades already blood-tested.

  One by one the others boarded. Buckles clicked shut—sharp, mechanical—like boots falling in unison. Xu Wei came last; his boot slammed the door, the clang echoing like a gunshot down an empty street.

  The engine roared awake. The dashboard glowed cold blue. Blackpine Forest lay an hour away. Not a second to waste.

  YiChen’s voice cut through the engine hum—low, clear.

  “Spirit descent isn’t chance. It’s the barrier thinning.”

  He didn’t turn, but each word landed heavy.

  He told them what the creatures were: where their soul-cores nested, how Spirit Force moved, how fear and death fed the breach. He laid out how humans might begin to draw on it—small at first, then controlled.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  When he mentioned the Minor Cycle Circulation Method, seven pairs of eyes sharpened.

  YiChen lifted his palm. A thread of silver light shimmered at his fingertip, rippling like liquid starlight.

  “Feel the heat. Guide it up the spine. Circle it back to the dantian. Again. Again—until it flows.”

  Logan clenched his fist; faint dark-red veins pulsed beneath the skin.

  “That’s what happened to me. Fire boiled up—and then—bang. It burst out.”

  David Smith’s grin spread wide, hungry and reckless.

  “So basically—we’re turning into super-soldiers?”

  YiChen closed his hand. The silver winked out. His voice was iron.

  “Not super-soldiers. Warriors.

  Remember this—fear feeds the Fiends.

  Your anger, your courage, your faith—those are the blades that cut them down.”

  The truck pushed forward. Outside, the city receded, streets folding into gray. Inside, seven people leaned into a lesson that might save a hundred thousand lives—or end them.

  The mists were already waiting.

  The vehicle rumbled into the outskirts of Blackpine Forest.

  Cell signal dropped to zero.

  The navigation screen bled into static.

  Only them—

  and a world drowned in mist.

  ?

  The truck stopped at the old forest park.

  Once, this had been a place of leisure:

  wooden walkways winding through pines, swings drifting above soft grass, a brook whispering beneath the bridge, tourists crowding the lookout deck.

  Now—

  silence.

  A veil of silver mist draped it whole.

  This fog was not morning haze.

  No chill. No damp.

  It shimmered faintly, motes of silver dust adrift, weightless as breath.

  When it touched skin, hair rose—

  not from cold, but from clarity.

  As if dulled nerves had woken.

  YiChen reached into the drifting veil.

  “This is Spirit Energy. Strongest under sunlight—light feeds it. At night, it thins. That’s when Fiends come… to hunt the light beasts.”

  Jack’s hand slid toward his gun.

  “Light beasts?”

  “Pure energy given form,” YiChen said, eyes fixed deep among the trees.

  “To Malevolent Spirits, they’re delicacies. Once spotted, they swarm and devour them to nothing.”

  David muttered, “They don’t fight back?”

  “The strong do.” YiChen’s tone was even.

  “The weak flee—

  or die.”

  His gaze swept the squad.

  “But humans… can forge a bond with them.”

  At last Han Yue spoke, voice low as wind through needles.

  “A bond?”

  “Yes. A pact. A light beast links to your soul, fights at your side. Spirit and light fused—your strength doubles. So does your chance to live.”

  He gestured into the misted woods.

  “Combat. Healing. Defense. Illusion. Each kind is different. If fortune favors you, you’ll find the one that answers your heart.”

  Logan cracked a grin, knuckles popping.

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s grab a few.”

  “Not grab.” YiChen shook his head, voice grave.

  “A contract. They choose you.”

  His eyes locked on the silver depths—

  where faint glimmers stirred, beckoning.

  “Remember: don’t scatter. Spirit-rich zones push evil back, but they’re never safe. Other beasts lurk. Some look harmless—until they strike.”

  ?

  The squad checked gear.

  Weapons primed.

  Steps heavy.

  They entered the mist.

  Wooden planks groaned beneath their boots.

  Tall pines loomed, crowns swallowed in fog.

  Sunlight fractured through the canopy, scattering pale shafts against silver haze.

  Ryan brushed a thread of mist with his fingers, whispering,

  “This place… unreal.”

  YiChen gave no reply.

  His eyes narrowed forward.

  Voice low.

  “Something’s coming.”

  His hand closed on the axe.

  At once the squad braced—

  weapons raised, eyes sharp as steel.

  The mist stirred.

  A pale-violet shape leapt onto the railing.

  It tilted its head, studying them.

  A cat-shaped light beast.

  Body glowing lavender.

  Tail drifting like cloud.

  Eyes—two blazing stars.

  YiChen looked at it.

  For once, his gaze softened.

  “…A light beast.”