Chapter 4
The mountain breathed.
Mist rolled through the narrow ravine like a living thing, coiling around jagged stone and ancient trees whose roots clawed deep into the earth. Shenping felt it the moment he stepped beyond the cave's mouth—the pressure was stronger here, thicker, as though time itself had slowed and grown heavy.
The old man walked ahead, staff tapping softly against stone.
"This place rejects the careless," he said. "Mind, breath, intent—keep them aligned."
Shenping nodded, adjusting his pace. Sang Sang followed close behind him, silent as a shadow. She had not spoken since dawn, but her eyes missed nothing.
They climbed until the sun hung directly overhead, yet its warmth barely touched the ground. Strange markings appeared along the rocks—spirals carved deep, worn smooth by centuries.
"Who made these?" Shenping asked.
"Those who failed," the old man replied. "And those who survived just long enough to warn others."
They reached a narrow plateau where the air abruptly stilled. At its center stood a stone platform, circular and cracked, as if struck by lightning long ago.
"This is where it begins," the old man said.
Shenping stepped onto the platform.
The world lurched.
His vision blurred, colors draining as a violent force pressed down on his skull. His heart stuttered, then pounded, each beat echoing too loudly in his ears. He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched.
Time fractured.
Moments overlapped—his childhood lab, burning steel corridors, Sang Sang's village in flames, machines tearing through cities not yet built. All of it collided inside his mind.
He forced himself to breathe.
Slow.
Intentless.
The pressure eased slightly.
The old man watched closely. "You resist instinctively. Most try to fight it."
"I've learned," Shenping said through strained breath, "that force answers force."
Sang Sang stepped closer, gripping the talisman. The moment she crossed onto the platform, the markings ignited with faint silver light.
The air screamed again.
Shenping twisted toward her. "Get back!"
Too late.
The light surged upward, forming a pillar that wrapped around Sang Sang like flowing glass. She gasped, dropping to her knees as symbols crawled across her skin before fading beneath it.
"Bloodline resonance," the old man whispered. "It's begun."
Shenping lunged forward, but an invisible wall threw him backward. He slammed into stone, ribs rattling.
"Sang Sang!" he shouted.
She screamed.
The sound tore through the mountain, sharp and raw. The pressure spiked violently, cracking stone and sending debris raining down the slope.
Inside the light, Sang Sang clutched her chest. Memories not her own flooded her mind—endless skies split by war, people kneeling before unseen thrones, time unraveling like thread.
Then, silence.
The light vanished.
Sang Sang collapsed onto the stone, unmoving.
Shenping reached her side instantly, lifting her into his arms. Her body was warm. Breathing shallow, but steady.
"She's alive," he said, voice tight.
"Yes," the old man replied. "But she has been seen."
"By what?"
The old man did not answer.
The pressure in the air did not fade. Instead, it shifted—focused.
Shenping felt it lock onto him.
"Leave," the old man said sharply. "Now."
The first crack split the sky.
A thin black line tore open above the plateau, widening like a wound. Cold poured out of it, unnatural and absolute.
Shenping turned slowly.
Figures descended from the裂—humanoid, armored in smooth black metal that reflected no light. Their eyes burned white, empty and precise.
Enforcers.
The old man slammed his staff into the ground again. "You should not exist yet."
The lead Enforcer tilted its head. "Temporal contamination detected. Correction in progress."
Shenping set Sang Sang down gently behind him.
"You stay here," he said.
She grabbed his sleeve weakly. "Don't… disappear."
"I won't," he said, though the future screamed otherwise.
The Enforcers moved.
Time stuttered around them, each step compressing distance unnaturally. Shenping charged forward, intercepting the first with a brutal punch aimed at the head.
His fist stopped inches from the metal face.
Frozen.
The Enforcer's hand closed around his wrist, pressure increasing with mathematical certainty.
"Threat level reassessed," it said. "Erasure recommended."
The old man attacked from behind, staff blazing with condensed force. It struck the Enforcer's spine, shattering layers of metal and sending it crashing into the ground.
The grip released.
Shenping tore free, rolling aside as a blade of compressed time sliced through the air where his head had been.
He fought without pause, movements precise, calculated, desperate. Every strike carried intent stripped bare—no anger, no fear, only necessity.
Still, the Enforcers adapted.
One caught his arm and twisted. Pain exploded as bone cracked. Shenping roared, slamming his forehead into the metal mask again and again until the surface dented.
The old man staggered, blood running from his mouth. "You cannot win like this!"
"Then how?" Shenping shouted.
The old man's eyes flicked to Sang Sang.
"No," Shenping said instantly.
"She is the key," the old man replied. "And the lock."
An Enforcer raised its hand, energy condensing.
There was no time.
Shenping turned and grabbed Sang Sang, pulling her into his chest as he stepped fully onto the platform again.
The markings flared violently.
The pressure became unbearable.
Shenping felt his consciousness stretch, thin as glass. He anchored himself to one thought—protect.
Time collapsed inward.
The world went silent.
When sensation returned, Shenping was on his knees, the platform shattered beneath him. The Enforcers were gone. The裂 in the sky sealed itself as though it had never existed.
The old man lay against a boulder, barely breathing.
Shenping rushed to him.
"You fool," the old man whispered weakly. "You pulled her deeper."
"She's alive," Shenping said.
"Yes," the old man replied. "But now… she's bound."
Sang Sang stirred in Shenping's arms, eyes glowing faintly silver before fading back to brown.
She looked up at him. "I saw… tomorrow."
Shenping swallowed. "What did you see?"
She hesitated. "You standing alone."
The old man laughed softly, then coughed. "It has begun faster than expected."
Shenping looked out over the mountain, where the air still trembled faintly.
In the distance, unseen by mortal eyes, probabilities realigned.
THE CORE observed.
A variable had exceeded containment.
Time erasure would no longer be sufficient.
Assimilation was now required.
And far below the mountain, the world continued on, unaware that its future had already fractured.