57: Chapter 57 The Catastrophe of Tinggen

At exactly twelve midnight, the seal of the Chanis Gate, which had been silent for a hundred years, suddenly shattered.

There was no gradual cracking or decay, no warning signs of peeling layers. The three layers of ancient rune arrays nested within the core of the seal lost all their gilded spirituality in the same instant, becoming completely dim and dead.

In the underground seal maintenance room, the dozen needles on the precision monitor in front of Old Neil vibrated in unison, slamming hard against the end of the red alert zone. A harsh, shrill alarm bell instantly tore through the silence of the underground. The next second, a cluster of cold, dark green sparks exploded inside the instrument, the glass dial cracked inch by inch, and all the metal needles snapped and fell onto the console.

A surging backflow of spirituality roared back in retaliation.

Old Neil's body jolted, and he stumbled back two steps. The end of the staff in his hand scraped heavily across the hard stone bricks, carving a harsh, deep groove. The crystal core at the head of the staff, which had condensed years of spirituality, shattered upon impact, turning into a sky full of fine crystal dust.

He pressed tightly against his chest, which was surging with intense pain, a metallic taste rising in his throat. With all his might, he squeezed out a hoarse and heavy warning:

"The seal is broken! Everyone evacuate the Chanis Gate immediately!"

Before his voice had even faded, the entire underground of the Saint Selena Cathedral began to tremble violently. The vibration, centered on the Chanis Gate, instantly swept across the entire Tingen.

The gas streetlamps along Iron Cross Street all extinguished suddenly, the brilliant lights instantly reduced to zero, and the entire long street plunged into an Abyss of pitch-black Darkness where one could not see their own fingers.

A winding, narrow fissure split open from the middle of the smooth stone pavement of Zoutland Street. From the deep crevice, a dark green mist, carrying the scent of decay and rot mixed with a strange, sweet, fishy odor, slowly welled up and spread silently along the ground.

Outside the city, the water level of the Hoi River rose strangely. The murky river water broke through the embankments, backflowing into all the sewer entrances along the bank, submerging and sweeping away the strange mold mycelium that was entrenched and spreading in the drainage pipes.

The next second, over a hundred large and small clock towers in Tingen, without anyone striking them or operating them, had their heavy internal bronze bells vibrate and toll on their own.

Each toll was deep, ancient, and profound, piercing through the night and the buildings, echoing in every corner of the city. It was not the clear sound of ordinary bells, but rather like an ancient bell that had been silent underground for a thousand years breaking through the soil. Carrying endless oppression and desolation, it vented the roar accumulated over eons toward the human world, so heavy that it made people's hearts feel suffocated and their souls tremble.

In the stone corridor outside the Chanis Gate, Dunn steadily supported the unstable Old Neil, whose blood was surging, with one hand and turned to entrust him to Daly, who had rushed over.

His dark gray trench coat had been torn by several uneven rips from the raging spiritual shockwave, the hem ragged and flapping, yet his tall, straight figure remained as steady as a rock. His deep voice carried not a ripple, calm to the point of coldness:

"All personnel, listen up. Immediately initiate Tingen's highest-level emergency evacuation plan."

"Leonard, Daly, immediately head to the East Borough and the Dock District, and guide all civilians to evacuate to the northern suburbs highlands."

"Klein, Lu Li, you are responsible for Zoutland Street and the University District. Clear out all remaining personnel."

"Old Neil, stay with me to guard the Chanis Gate."

Old Neil's breathing was unstable, his brows furrowed: "Captain, just the two of you cannot block the contamination leaking from the seal!"

Dunn turned his head slightly, his pitch-black eyes as heavy and condensed as the night. He directly interrupted his concern, drawing the revolver from his waist with his right hand, his thumb steadily cocking the hammer. The light mechanical click of the metal was exceptionally clear in the trembling corridor.

"I never intended to hold the seal."

The night and the vibrations reflected on his calm profile, every word resonant: "I am only buying enough time for the evacuation of all the city's residents."

"The first things to rush out of the seal will definitely not be the Snake of Fate itself, but the filthy contaminants and shattered remnant souls accumulated over a hundred years of sealing. Before Ince Zangwill defected, he had already secretly loosened three secondary seals from the inside; now, they have all failed."

"All the strange entities leaking out tonight will prioritize locking onto Beyonders across the city. We must complete the evacuation of all civilians before they fully spread and ravage the city."

Having said that, he said no more and turned to face the pitch-black, deep, and turbulent Chanis Gate, his back solitary and firm, shouldering the endless Darkness approaching him alone.

When the vibrations first began, Lu Li had already quickly left the Potion Room.

He did not rush toward the Chanis Gate. With Dunn holding the line and Old Neil providing support, that was the Nighthawks' frontline defense; it was not his place to intervene.

His target was the slums of the East Borough.

Tingen's East Borough, adjacent to the low-lying land of the Old Wharf, was home to over three thousand lower-class citizens—dock workers struggling to make ends meet, unemployed and destitute textile workers, homeless vagrants, and peddlers surviving on the streets.

In the original work, they were nameless beings no one mentioned. But tonight, they would become the first victims to perish in the catastrophe. Without the involvement of strange creature battles, simply due to the low terrain, old houses, and shallow foundations, when the Hoi River backflowed and the spiritual shockwave swept through, the entire slum area would be swallowed by floodwaters and filth in the first instance, burying all those humble lives.

Lu Li moved like the wind, sprinting east along the continuously trembling Zoutland Street.

While passing the intersection of the University District, he glimpsed Klein holding a flashlight, the bright beam piercing through the heavy night, orderly guiding the panic-stricken apartment students, constantly urging everyone to evacuate to the northern suburbs highlands. Klein's cuffs were stained with fine spiritual powder from paper figurines, his brows and eyes steady, methodically soothing and guiding every panicked figure.

Seeing Lu Li sprinting over, he only hastily raised his voice to urge: "The East Borough is yours!"

As the words fell, he turned and rushed toward another restless and chaotic apartment building to continue directing the evacuation.

Lu Li nodded in response, his footsteps not stopping, heading straight into the depths of the East Borough.

At the entrance to the slums, he encountered Leonard, who was striving to save people.

This usually carefree and free-spirited Nighthawk had his trench coat shredded by collapsing wooden walls, the corners of his clothes torn and flapping. Yet, holding a short staff, he knocked on the closed doors of the wooden houses one by one, his clear and powerful voice piercing through the chaos and noise, steadying the panicked minds of the crowd.

"It's not an earthquake! Evacuate to the northern suburbs highlands immediately!"

"Do not covet your possessions! Travel light and run fast! The Dock District has been flooded by the river; it is strictly forbidden to approach the river channel!"

Catching sight of Lu Li's arrival, Leonard pointed his short staff toward the deep, dark alleyway, speaking at a rapid pace: "In the four alleyways inside, at least two hundred elderly people and children haven't had time to evacuate. You go deep inside to guide them; I will hold the intersection to prevent anyone from turning back!"

"Understood."

Lu Li acknowledged and rushed into the dim, deep, and intricate slum alleys.

The next instant, the spirituality of the Marauder Pathway quietly unfurled.

The spiritual interference of Sequence 9 was already enough to slightly influence the consciousness of living beings. After advancing to Sequence 8, this ability became even more precise, covert, and efficient. He did not need to manipulate anyone's body or forcibly control anyone's actions; he simply used wisps of gentle spirituality to lightly stir the depths of the consciousness of every living person in the alleyways, turning the thought of [walk north, evacuate immediately] into an instinctive impulse rooted in their minds, impossible to resist.

In the dim shacks, Mothers holding young children, hesitating and wandering, not knowing where to go, suddenly had firm eyes. No longer hesitating, they hugged their children tight and turned to sprint north.

In the corners, drunkards who were still frantically packing up their meager belongings felt a sudden, inexplicable emptiness in their hearts. Feeling that worldly possessions were meaningless, they threw down their heavy bundles and stumbled into the flow of evacuees.

Several elderly people at the alley entrance who were arguing about the direction of escape and hesitating stopped their debate instantly. With tacit agreement, they turned their heads and walked steadily toward the direction of the northern suburbs highlands.

One, two, three... four alleyways.

Lu Li's spiritual perception was like a fine net, scanning every dilapidated shack, every dark basement, and every hidden corner inch by inch. He confirmed one by one, checking house by house, not letting go of any curled-up figure, urging all remaining civilians out of danger.

When the last resident walked out of the alleyway, it was an elderly woman carrying a tattered cloth bag.

She walked to the alley entrance and subconsciously looked back into the deep, dark, and empty alleyway. Seeing Lu Li standing there, a hoarse voice with a heavy East Borough accent rang out, sincere and simple:

"Young man, you run too!"

Lu Li nodded slightly, his voice calm and gentle: "I will leave immediately."

He watched the old woman stagger into the massive crowd of people evacuating north, confirming that all three thousand-plus civilians in the East Borough had stepped onto the safe passage, with no one left behind and no one missed, before turning to return.

While passing the path from the East Borough to Zoutland Street, he fully spread all his spiritual tentacles, repeatedly verifying the evacuation routes on the outskirts of the entire slum area. Confirming that the last batch of residents was completely away from the low-lying danger zones, he then turned his direction and rushed toward the core of the battlefield.

Just as he stepped back into the hinterland of Zoutland Street, in the direction of the Chanis Gate, a heaven-shaking battle suddenly erupted.

After the seal broke, the first wave of strange filth to break through the confinement was a boundless, shapeless mass of dark green fog.

This was the mold progenitor that had been suppressed by the Chanis Gate seal for hundreds of years. It was of the same origin as the mycelium growing in the Iron Cross Street sewers, but its concentration of contamination and strange power far exceeded ordinary mycelium by thousands and tens of thousands of times; it was the source of disaster that had been lurking underground for a century.

The thick fog surged out from the pitch-black doorway, rapidly spiraling and condensing in the air, turning into a massive vortex of fog that blotted out the sky. Fine, grayish-white scale-like substances continuously peeled off from the edges of the vortex. The moment the scales hit the ground, they would autonomously take root in the crevices of the stone bricks, breeding dense and insidious mold mycelium, which spread crazily at a speed visible to the naked eye, devouring everything around it.

At the entrance of the corridor outside the Chanis Gate, Dunn held his gun with one hand, the muzzle steadily locked onto the core of the fog vortex, his posture as tall and straight as a mountain, unmoving.

He did not fire.

Ordinary bullets could not harm this incorporeal, strange contamination at all.

The only thing he could do was to open up the powerful spiritual field unique to the Interrogator Pathway. An intangible and incorporeal mental barrier stood across the corridor entrance, firmly resisting the moldy fog that was crazily expanding outward.

The fog vortex collided with and tore at the barrier time and time again, each impact carrying a cold, soul-corroding power, constantly consuming and overdrawing Dunn's spirituality. In just a few breaths, fine cold sweat oozed from his broad forehead, slowly sliding down his contours, and his complexion was quietly tinged with a bit of paleness. Yet, the barrier in front of him remained as solid as ever, not retreating in the slightest.

Old Neil stood behind him; the crystal on his staff had long since shattered and become useless, but it did not affect his spellcasting in the slightest.

His left hand pressed against the cold stone wall, his fingertips moving rapidly, tracing along the faint spiritual patterns remaining at the seal nodes, outlining reverse purification runes one after another. Pale golden runes lit up in sequence, and layers upon layers of purification arrays continuously expanded and spread, steadily resisting the surging dark green fog.

The moment the mold fog hit the purification array, a continuous, harsh hissing sound rang out. The filthy black fog was dissolved layer by layer, turning into grayish-white powder that fell in rustles.

But the filth deep within the seal was endless; new thick fog poured out continuously, wave after wave, charging at the purification line without fear of death.

Old Neil gritted his teeth, his breathing heavy, and reported urgently in a low voice: "Captain, something is wrong!"

"There is an unknown entity pushing filth out from deep within the seal! It's not just the mold progenitor level of disaster!"

"The deep-level seals are collapsing one after another! The last thing I observed before the evacuation was that the spiritual curve of the Snake of Fate's remnant soul completely broke through the trough and surged to the peak—it has completely awakened!"

Dunn's eyes were heavy and condensed, asking in a deep voice: "How much longer can the defense line hold?"

"The purification array can still suppress this wave of mold contamination, but not for long." Old Neil's tone was solemn, "Once those more ancient and terrifying strange entities from the depths of the seal rush out, the effectiveness of my purification array will be greatly reduced, and it won't be able to stop them anymore!"

Dunn did not speak further. He raised his hand to draw the highest-level emergency signal flare he kept at his waist, aimed it at the heavy night sky, and decisively pulled the trigger.

A glaring red light, trailing a scorching tail flame, pierced through the pitch-black night sky, penetrated layers of clouds, and exploded over Tingen with a dazzling, blood-colored radiance.

This was the highest-level distress signal of the Tingen Nighthawks team, representing a city-level catastrophe. Any Nighthawk within the borders of Tingen who saw this signal must abandon all affairs and speed to reinforce the Chanis Gate at full capacity.

In the northern section of Zoutland Street, Klein, who had just cleared out the University District and sent away the last batch of teachers and students, looked up and saw the glaring red light in the sky.

The entire street had long since fallen into complete Darkness, with only the blood-colored afterglow of the distress signal suspended in the night sky, illuminating the dead city. His fingertips moved slightly, and the paper figurine hidden in his cuff quietly appeared. On the back of the paper figurine, a line of pale gray, misty writing emerged, the message incomparably clear:

[Chanis Gate in emergency, mold progenitor has broken through the seal, Dunn and Old Neil are resisting head-on. The second wave of high-level contaminants is about to rush out of the seal.]

Klein quickly put away the paper figurine, bent down to pick up the portable toolbox on the ground, accelerated his pace, and rushed rapidly toward the direction of the Chanis Gate.

At the same moment, Lu Li also saw the blood-colored signal that heralded the catastrophe.

He did not follow the crowd and head straight to the seal battlefield.

In a flash of thought, he had already locked onto the most critical node in all of Tingen—the Iron Cross Street underground Pumping Station.

This was the core intersection of the city's underground drainage network and also a secret space anchor point left over from the Battle of the Full Moon. The residual spirituality of all the seal nodes of the Chanis Gate converged along the crisscrossing drainage pipes into the ancient seal base beneath the power distribution room of this Pumping Station.

Lu Li quickly infiltrated the underground Pumping Station, crouched down, and pressed his palms tightly against the ancient base, which was covered in old runes and mottled with wear.

The weak spatial perception of the Apprentice Pathway was fully unfurled.

The spatial ability of Sequence 9 was still meager and insufficient to forcibly block the seal fissures or kill the strange filth, but the seal of the Chanis Gate that had shattered at this moment was itself the most solid and core spatial anchor point in the entire area.

Even though the main seal had already ruptured, the spatial structure, abandoned anchor points, and rune foundations left behind by the century-old seal were still deeply embedded beneath Tingen and had not completely dissipated.

Lu Li poured all of his pure spirituality into the ancient base. Using the Pumping Station core as a base point, he extended his perception and power along the dense drainage network to every abandoned seal anchor point on the outskirts of the Chanis Gate.

Stone brick crevices, copper foil fragments, rune grooves... all the seal wreckage that had weathered the passage of time were all connected and activated by his spatial perception.

A thin, tough, intangible, and incorporeal spatial reinforcement network instantly covered the entire core area outside the Chanis Gate.

This layer of net could not stop the Snake of Fate's remnant soul from breaking through the wall, nor could it kill the raging mold strangeness, but it could firmly imprison the terrifying spiritual shockwave triggered by the seal's collapse.

It locked the destructive vibration, which was enough to sweep through the entire Tingen and annihilate the surrounding suburbs, firmly within the city's core area.

Holding the last, and most critical, barrier of survival for all the civilians evacuating to the northern suburbs highlands.

The catastrophe of Tingen had already descended, yet the path of survival for the masses was still continuing.