Volume One: Entering the City Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Glimpse of the Truth

Fang Hao opened the car door and gazed at the cluster of squat houses at the foot of the mountain. Following the clues he'd gathered, he arrived before one of the dwellings. He fiddled with the keyhole for a moment, and the door soon yielded to him.

Inside, the house was dilapidated; every table and chair was battered, missing a corner or standing on a broken leg, and a thick layer of dust covered everything. With a frown, Fang Hao gently closed the door behind him, took out his flashlight, and moved cautiously around the room. He picked up a small piece of wood and tapped every surface, one by one. At last, when he struck a section of wall, a hollow sound echoed back.

Unmoved by this discovery, Fang Hao continued tapping, calmly and methodically. Soon, he had outlined the hollow space. “Judging by its size, it should be a door,” he murmured. He marked the spot and quickly finished inspecting the rest of the house. “No anomalies elsewhere. It must be here.”

He demolished the hollow section of wall, and as the dust settled, a staircase descending into darkness appeared before him. After a moment’s thought, he donned a gas mask and began his descent.

At the bottom, Fang Hao found himself in a small basement. Directly opposite the stairs stood a statue—not a serene deity, but a vicious demon with a twisted, malevolent face. He averted his gaze from the statue. The altar before it was barren, lacking even a single incense burner; its emptiness was striking. Were it not for the slightly lighter patches of dust on its surface, Fang Hao might have doubted its purpose altogether.

In front of the altar were two ragged mats, one placed behind the other. Fang Hao studied them, concluding that someone had once sat facing the stairs on the mat closest to the statue, leaving the second for visitors or supplicants.

He frowned; all of this was far from what he sought. Surveying the basement, aside from these items, not a single extra character or clue could be found.

Still, he did not give up. He meticulously searched the room again, and at last, in the right-hand corner near the statue, he discovered a heap of rotting fabric.

“This…” Fang Hao rubbed the scraps between his fingers. “A curtain.” Squinting, he scrutinized the corner by the light of his flashlight.

“As expected, this corner was added later.” He took out his tools and broke through the wall, pulling aside the battered curtain. Before him was a round door.

He stepped forward and examined the six shallow grooves carved into the door. At last, a smile crossed his lips. From his pocket, he produced his own and Deng Zhi’s half-key, pressing them into two of the grooves. The keys fit perfectly; a mechanical hum began to sound.

Yet the round door did not open. Fang Hao frowned and retrieved two more half-keys—one originally belonging to Xu Yuanbin, the other acquired from Lu Yi. When these were inserted, the ancient door trembled and finally, after a moment’s hesitation, slowly opened, granting Fang Hao passage.

He nodded in satisfaction. “Not too excessive. If it required six keys, whatever’s inside wouldn’t…” His thought was interrupted as his brow knit again. The round door did not slide aside but instead split from the center, retracting into six petals, each vanishing into the wall.

At that moment, a metallic screech reached his ears. Fang Hao glanced over and saw the four keys warping and twisting. Before his eyes, they all shattered. Fang Hao hissed, “No plans for a second opening? That’s not good news.”

The mechanical rumbling faded completely. Fang Hao stepped inside. The room was hexagonal; at its center stood a desk, and at each of the six corners was a bookshelf.

“Six people, six keys, six bookshelves. If something was meant to be hidden, destruction would be safest. So this was deliberately left behind by the city?” Fang Hao habitually reached for his glasses, only to remember he wore a gas mask.

He strode quickly to the edge of the room, extracting a book from each shelf to identify their corresponding owners: Lu Yi, Fang Hao, Deng Zhi, Xu Yuanbin, Dong Xingten, and—upon seeing the last name, Fang Hao’s face registered surprise. “Unexpected. I never would have guessed.” He clicked his tongue in astonishment.

Having sorted out the identities, Fang Hao returned to the desk in the room’s center. Upon it lay a simple group photograph of six people, and a phrase engraved into the wood: “Between the six desires, leave quickly if nothing is needed.”

Even with Fang Hao’s intelligence, the meaning of the phrase eluded him. He set it aside and pulled the sole book belonging to him from his shelf.

Under the flashlight’s beam, Fang Hao quickly leafed through its pages. A pleased expression soon appeared on his face. “It’s here, just as I thought.”

While organizing his documents at home, Fang Hao had discovered something odd. From the internet and various contacts, he knew his fame was due to exposing negative information about Xie Zhenpeng.

Yet, this event—his rise to notoriety and its significance—had left not a trace in his own home. Not one record, not even photos, except those he could find online.

Now, at last, he held the original photo. Its backdrop was a hotel under nightfall: a middle-aged man escorting a young woman—the girl unmistakably Xiao Wen—out of the entrance. This was but the tip of the iceberg that Fang Hao had revealed. As he leafed through more pages, his brow furrowed anew.

“No, these photos aren’t right.” Fang Hao shook his head. Among them were indecent images of Xie Zhenpeng and Xiao Wen, apparently taken at the same time as the original. More importantly, the angles varied greatly. If someone were caught in adultery, panic would ensue—no one would calmly continue, much less stroll out arm in arm afterward.

This left Fang Hao with two guesses: First, the original Fang Hao had acquired some ability, enabling him to sneak in unseen. Second, the images were not taken by a human at all.

Turning a few more pages, he found a transfer receipt—Dong Xingten had wired money to Fang Hao, the date just after the exposure.

He quickly flipped through the remaining pages, recording them with his camera. Then he pulled Lu Yi’s volume. As expected, Dong Xingten had funded Lu Yi’s studio at its inception. Next, he examined Dong Xingten’s book.

While he was sifting through these incriminating records, a strange wind stirred suddenly in the little house. The dust-laden air swept to the round door but could go no farther. As the dust settled, the stone door, previously withdrawn into the wall, began to tremble and extend outward again.

“So that’s it. The original Fang Hao’s goal was to topple Xie Zhenpeng’s enterprise and elevate Dong Xingten. In that case…” As Fang Hao spoke, his flashlight rolled across the table. He leaned down to retrieve it, adjusting his position as it rolled further away. At that moment, his hand brushed his own book. Fang Hao instantly sensed something amiss.

He picked up the flashlight and examined the book again. Soon, he pulled a photograph from between its thick pages. “So he was in that line of work, hiding a photo here.” But when Fang Hao saw the image clearly, his face stiffened. “So that's how it is. Everything makes sense now. Lu Yi, in the end, my judgment was right.”

Just then, a faint tapping sounded. Fang Hao turned quickly, only to find the round door had silently sealed itself. Red lines began to spread from the six corners of the room, igniting everything combustible in their path.

He rushed to the door, pulled out his pistol, and fired directly at it. The bullet ricocheted, leaving not a single mark.

As the desk in the center caught fire, Fang Hao felt the heat rising rapidly. The red lines had now covered the entire room. “So it’s a one-time mechanism—a self-destruct device.”

He watched as the red lines converged overhead, illuminating six crystal spheres embedded in the ceiling. Something seemed to stir within them.

“Six, six, between the six desires?” he repeated. “Six desires? Mine is the thirst for knowledge; Dong Xingten is…”

“The presence of those photos hints at some power or force. Xu Yuanbin’s films were widely criticized after release, but were popular at the time. And…” A sudden brightness shone in Fang Hao’s eyes. “So above me are the six desires. I should…” He raised his pistol and shattered the crystal spheres one by one.

As each sphere broke, a black substance was revealed, quickly intertwining and surging toward Fang Hao, the room’s sole living soul.

Enveloped in blackness, Fang Hao felt his greed swell uncontrollably. He sank down, struggling to restrain the flood of emotions, but the black substance crashed against him like a waterfall, impossible to suppress.

His mind grew foggy. As he verged on becoming a beast consumed by greed, a wave of energy surged from his body. Fang Hao opened his eyes; in their depths flashed a sharp gleam. The blackness seemed to be subdued by some unseen force, unable to invade him further.

“So this is what they call talent?” Fang Hao gazed at the ceiling. He reached for the shattered crystal spheres; they coalesced in his hand into a longsword. “Six desires—this is the true meaning of this room.”

He drew the sword and struck the round door with several powerful blows. The door exploded open.

Back outside, Fang Hao surveyed the ruined house, understanding that Death had intervened. Yet, with his overflowing strength, it had not harmed him in the slightest.

He brought up a photograph on his camera—the one hidden in the book. Looking at it, he smiled once more. At the same time, he felt the abundance of energy within him begin to dissipate, some vanishing into the air, others fleeing into the distance.