Chapter Thirty-Seven: Lessons Learned

A gently wavering melancholic blue light radiated from the shoulder of both Qi Chen and his companion, the flickering glow emanating from multiple strange entities that had taken the form of fireflies. The sorrowful power they carried seeped deep into their hearts.

“Don’t touch them just yet,” murmured the warm-hearted man, lowering his voice as if he feared even the slightest sound might startle the tiny insects perched atop their shoulders. “It seems our reasoning and direction are correct—we’re getting closer to where the source is likely concentrated.”

Qi Chen agreed wholeheartedly, turning his head slightly to observe the little firefly still resting dazedly on his shoulder. He didn’t sense any threat from it. Nor did the Overlord within him give any warning; while his own senses might fail, the Overlord’s never would.

“Let’s go. We should hurry to the building where the fire broke out,” Qi Chen signaled to his companion, then quickened his pace toward the site of the fire, guided by the directions in his earpiece.

He was eager to uncover the true nature of the bizarre occurrences plaguing the Xingfu Residential Compound. Were these fireflies merely a manifestation of its eerie power, or did they encompass its entirety?

Residential compounds in the Age of Mist weren’t usually large, especially not ordinary ones like Xingfu. Beyond the entrance and a central circular plaza, fewer than ten buildings stood within the compound.

The site of the disaster lay almost perfectly at the center of all the dwellings: an old building of six or seven stories. “Was the fire really this devastating?” Qi Chen gazed in surprise at the accident building, which stood out starkly against the warm-hued facades of the surrounding blocks. Now, the stricken building was pitch-black, a lifeless mass visible even from the outside.

“Are you holding up?” The warm-hearted man suddenly wiped away tears, several clusters of blue fireflies now clinging to him. The supernatural force pressed upon his spirit, drawing him into an endless loop of mournful memories.

“I’m fine,” Qi Chen replied, though his eyes were slightly reddened and his chest felt tight. He hadn’t been through as much as his companion; his previous life had seen no great tragedies—unless one counted solitude as a sorrow, which might have been his only regret. In all else, joy still outweighed sadness in his heart.

“Officers, the building ahead is the site of the fire. According to the Administrative Bureau’s records, the blaze started on the ground floor and spread upward. That’s why,” the voice in their earpieces continued, “the death toll was so high in the end.”

The briefing gave Qi Chen and his companion a deeper understanding of the building they were about to enter.

“Large-scale loss of life, under the right conditions, can naturally give rise to a supernatural phenomenon,” the warm-hearted man sniffed, “Let’s head inside. I can already feel the atmosphere in there is much thicker with supernatural energy than outside.”

Qi Chen felt the same. While the strange energy outside was scattered and diffuse, inside the building it was much more concentrated.

“Once we’re inside, stay absolutely alert. Don’t let yourself be lulled into carelessness just because nothing so far has shown tangible hostility,” his companion warned.

Heeding the advice, Qi Chen cautiously stepped into the building.

In the Age of Mist, residential buildings were rarely split into separate units. Once inside, Qi Chen realized this was less like an apartment block and more akin to the dormitory buildings of his previous life.

A single staircase ran upward, flanked by long corridors. Each doorway, charred and broken by the fire, marked a household.

This layout maximized the number of people who could live in a single building.

“It seems to be upstairs,” Qi Chen signaled with his eyes. Although the fire had raged most fiercely on the ground floor, the supernatural presence here was not as dense. His senses told him the strongest spiritual force was yet higher.

“Wait here for now. I’ll go up first—follow once I’m up there,” said the warm-hearted man. As he spoke, an orange glow of kindness floated from his body and then wrapped itself around him once more.

To Qi Chen’s eyes, it was as if his companion had donned a shell of supernatural “kindness” as armor.

“This is one way to use supernatural power—fusing the user with the phenomenon. You could see it as a kind of special transformation. In this state, the anomaly walker becomes the anomaly itself. But you’re not ready for this yet—wait until you can control your emotions,” he boasted, raising an eyebrow as he ascended.

Qi Chen noticed that with every step his companion took, the solid stairs beneath him seemed to become soft and yielding—explaining how he moved in utter silence.

This method allowed him to be a perfect infiltrator, able to slip by without alerting any supernatural presence.

After ascending one floor and finding nothing amiss, the warm-hearted man beckoned Qi Chen to follow. Qi Chen crept after him.

“There’s something uncanny over there…” Qi Chen instinctively held his breath. The sorrow within him grew stronger, and in the direction he looked, dozens of blue lights flickered and danced in the air—fireflies.

“Let’s ignore those for now. We need to head straight for the strongest source of energy… I feel like I’ll be crushed by grief if we delay any longer…” The warm-hearted man’s eyes were red, silent tears streaming down his face.

A veteran like him possessed a will as strong as steel, but the supernatural power of the sorrowful fireflies directly attacked the spirit. Tears were a natural reaction—not enough to hinder action, perhaps, but impossible to resist.

“Why aren’t you crying?” his companion asked, surprised.

“I… I don’t know.”

The weight of grief pressed down on Qi Chen, and he felt the urge to weep. Yet, beneath the sorrow, he sensed another, deeper emotion lurking below the surface.

“The rooftop. There must be something on the rooftop!”

Ignoring the question, Qi Chen abruptly looked up.

“Your intuition is probably more accurate than mine,” the warm-hearted man said gravely. Sensitivity to supernatural energy depended somewhat on experience, but far more on the strength of one’s spirit. The stronger the spirit, the keener the perception.

Qi Chen’s rating must be correct.

They moved swiftly and silently up the stairs. Nothing interrupted their ascent, but they noticed the higher they went, the more blue fireflies there were.

In moments, they reached the entrance to the rooftop—a locked iron door.

The warm-hearted man glanced around, picked up a broken brick, and activated his power. The brick softened in his grip, and he jammed it into the lock. After waiting a moment, he made the brick hard again. Now, with its shape molded from the inside, the brick acted as a key.

Qi Chen learned another lesson: supernatural power wasn’t just for combat.

Click.

The half-brick protruding from the lock twisted, but the warm-hearted man’s expression turned awkward. “The lock’s broken. It won’t open.”

Qi Chen stepped forward without a word. The Overlord appeared, and with a steely finger, he thrust into the lock and twisted forcefully.

Creak…

The iron door slowly swung open.

Another lesson learned: sometimes, brute strength was the most efficient solution.