The Phoenix of the Slums

The cold air outside the Tiangang shipyard clung to Tianming's skin like mist, but his blood ran hot with adrenaline. The warehouse battle had drained him, every joint aching, his ribs throbbing where Madam Yurei’s kick had landed.

But he had no time to rest. She had escaped in the chaos after he disarmed her, leaving behind nothing but a faint trail of blood and the echo of her final words: "This isn’t over."

Tianming clenched his fists.

He knew she was right.

She had whispered something else in her native tongue just before vanishing through the shadows, something he couldn’t shake: “Kuro no kodō wa mada hajimatta bakari da.” — The Black Pulse has only just begun.

Back in the hideout, Lu Qingshan stood beside an old table strewn with documents, photos, and maps. As Tianming entered, his face hardened.

"You’re hurt."

"It’s nothing."

"You faced her, didn’t you?"

Tianming gave a sharp nod.

Lu Qingshan looked away for a moment, then slowly reached into a drawer and pulled out a faded photograph. In it were five people—one of them unmistakably younger versions of Lu Qingshan and Madam Yurei. The others were unfamiliar, but all wore matching black badges in the shape of a falcon.

"The Black Falcon Circle," Lu said gravely. "We were all part of it once. A covert group during the shadow wars of the east. What we learned, what we created... it wasn’t meant to survive."

Tianming’s eyes narrowed. "And Madam Yurei?"

"She was our best," Lu said bitterly. "Until she broke away and sold her soul to something darker. Something we called... the Crimson Doctrine."

Before Tianming could question further, a sharp knock echoed at the hideout door. Lu Qingshan immediately signaled him to move aside.

It was Zhang Wei, the contact Tianming had met during the casino infiltration. The moment he entered, he tossed a blood-stained envelope onto the table.

"This just came in. Courier's throat was slit halfway across Denggang Pier. He died before he could speak."

Tianming opened the envelope. Inside was a single photograph—grainy, black-and-white, of a research lab. He recognized one of the men in the corner—Dr. Meng Haoran, a once-disgraced virologist rumored to have vanished years ago.

And in the background, standing with her face partly turned—Madam Yurei.

She hadn’t just been working with smugglers or weapons dealers. This was bigger. She was part of something that had ties to biotechnological warfare. The same shadows that had touched his father’s downfall.

Back in the room, Lu Qingshan looked over the photo with haunted eyes.

"If Meng Haoran is involved," he muttered, "then we’re not dealing with ordinary black-market syndicates. This is something ancient. Buried."

Tianming frowned. "Ancient?"

Lu nodded. "There was once a project hidden beneath the mountains near Qiyan Valley. Classified beyond military levels. It involved not just biotech, but the resurrection of something far older—something related to what they believed were 'precursor civilizations.'"

"Prehistoric?"

"Prehistoric, and dangerous. A realm where science and mysticism blurred. That’s where I think they’re going next."

Tianming processed the words carefully. From Madam Yurei’s elegant, calculated style to this deeper game involving ancient technology and vanishing doctors, the lines between present danger and long-lost history were merging faster than he’d anticipated.

He turned to Zhang Wei. "Any leads on their next move?"

Wei nodded. "One. A ship registered to a shell company owned by the Black Falcon remnants is scheduled to dock at Mount Kuixing port two nights from now. The manifest lists medical equipment and fertilizer. But there's chatter about something called 'Project Yanluo' hidden in its hold."

Lu Qingshan paled. "Yanluo... the Gatekeeper of the Underworld. That project was destroyed ten years ago."

"Apparently not," Tianming said grimly.

He took a breath. "I’m going to that port."

Lu placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Not alone. You’ll need backup. And... you’ll need this."

He handed Tianming a small, ancient scroll wrapped in black silk. The characters etched onto it shimmered faintly, as though alive.

"This is a medical scroll passed down from the Old Tong Sect. It contains formulas of ancient treatments, rare herb mixtures, and more importantly, defensive acupuncture techniques that can stimulate your nervous system in battle. You’ll need it if you face Yurei again."

Tianming took the scroll, feeling its weight both physically and spiritually. The world he had stepped into was no longer just one of revenge and bloodshed.

It was becoming something deeper. A war not just of power, but of history. Of what was buried. And what was now rising from the shadows.