#5
Yu Ruishu's second dawn in this world began with thick fog and an unnatural silence. The chaos from the previous night had left its mark—faces more guarded, movements quicker, fear deeper. But today, he had a purpose: to gather information about the foreign watcher and understand what the "Collectors" were really after.
He pretended to rummage through trash near the eastern exit, the spot where the watcher had been seen last night. His eyes scanned every inch of ground, every torn cloth, every shard. His analytical habits treated waste as data—who discarded what, from where, and where it might go.
Then, behind a moss-covered stone, he saw it.
Not ordinary trash. A sheet of paper—good quality, smooth, ivory-colored, sharply contrasting with the animal hides or dry leaves used in Mercy Grave. Partially torn and soiled, but the writing was still legible.
He carefully picked it up and hid it beneath his clothes.
Back in the underground hideout, under Xiao Mei's candlelight, they examined the fragment.
This was no ordinary writing. It was some kind of note or report, written in dense black ink, with strange symbols in the margins.
A rough translation Yu Ruishu could make out:
No. Code Age Soul Condition Karma Quality Delivery Status
...7 L-03 45 Faded, Restless C- (Dirty, Moderate) PROCESSED
...8 L-07 12 Pure, Traumatized B+ (Clean, High) SENT – Priority
...9 B-11 32 Stable, Neutral D (Very Dirty) REJECTED – Waste
...10 L-09 16 ???, Sharp ???, Isolated OBSERVED – Potential
At the bottom was a broken wax seal, but part of a symbol remained visible: a balanced scale over an open book.
Xiao Mei hissed, pointing to the last row. "L-09. Age 16. 'Observed – Potential.'"
Yu Ruishu felt a chill. His age in this body was around 16. "Sharp." "Isolated." That's him. And "Potential"? Potential for what?
Grandmother Liu, peering over their shoulders, paled. "That… that's the Karma Office Seal. From the Celestial Balance Yamen."
"Celestial Balance Yamen?" Yu Ruishu asked.
"An official city institution," whispered Grandmother Liu. "They evaluate people's karma, record merits and sins. They're supposed to be neutral… but this…" She pointed to the "Karma Quality" column. "They assign a value. Like merchandise."
"And they send those with 'Clean, High' karma as priority," Yu Ruishu murmured. Souls with high, clean karma. For what? Cultivation? Ritual? He recalled Bu Lan's words: "processed, like plant roots."
Suddenly, Si Bisu, who had been silently observing, made a motion. He pointed upwards, then clenched his fist beside his cheek—a symbol for sleep. Then he gestured along the tunnel.
"Does he know where the watcher sleeps?" Yu Ruishu guessed.
Si Bisu nodded firmly. Then he stretched out his hands, indicating something large, and made a throat-slashing gesture, then shook his head. Not to kill.
"Are we taking something from him?" Xiao Mei asked.
Si Bisu nodded again, eyes gleaming. He produced a small knife from his belt—sharp, well-maintained, very different from the makeshift weapons in the graveyard.
The plan formed quickly. Si Bisu would lead them through the tunnel to the watcher's resting place—a deserted shack on the outskirts of Mud Block, seldom visited. They would search it, gather information, perhaps even discover identity or orders. Not to kill, as murder would cause major problems. Only to steal data.
That afternoon, when the sun was high and most people hid from the heat, they moved. The tunnel branched like roots, and Si Bisu knew it well. They arrived beneath a shack that felt quieter. Through a gap in the floor, they could hear deep snoring.
Si Bisu signaled: he would ascend first, neutralize quickly if necessary. Yu Ruishu and Xiao Mei would follow to search.
With surprisingly silent movements for his size, Si Bisu pushed aside a trapboard and climbed. There was the sound of quick movement, a grunt, then silence. He signaled it was safe.
The room above was dark, the windows covered with cloth. On the floor, the thin man lay unconscious, bound and gagged by Si Bisu. Younger than expected, perhaps in his twenties, with a forgettable, ordinary face. But on his arm was a faint tattoo—the same symbol from the paper fragment: a scale over a book.
Xiao Mei immediately searched his belongings. She found several silver coins, a small bottle of clear liquid (likely a sedative), and—most importantly—a thin leather notebook.
Yu Ruishu opened it. The contents were more detailed.
Observation Notes, Sector 7 (Mercy Grave)
Priority Targets:
1. Code L-09 (Yu?): Stable anomalous soul, unaffected by environmental karma. Potential as a "Empty Vessel." Strictly observed.
2. Code L-12 (Xiao M.): Inherent spiritual perception indicators. Potential as a "Sign Interpreter." Observed.
Secondary Targets: Several names with soul condition "faded" or "dirty."
Orders: Do not take until confirmation from superiors. Premature acquisition could damage "material quality."
On the last page, there was a simple sketch: a diagram showing Mercy Grave as a "Filtering Pool," with arrows pointing to a grand city building labeled "Soul Distillation Tower."
Yu Ruishu felt nauseous. Mercy Grave wasn't just a dumping ground. It was a harvest field. They let people suffer, waiting for their karma to "ripen" or "stabilize" under certain conditions, then collected the high-value ones.
He was an "Empty Vessel." Xiao Mei was a "Sign Interpreter." They weren't trash—they were rare commodities.
"We must go," he whispered. "Now. Before the 'confirmation' comes."
But as they were about to descend back into the tunnel, the watcher's feet moved. His eyes half-opened, trying to focus. He saw them. And though his mouth was gagged, his eyes suddenly filled with a strange emotion—not anger, but deep desperation—staring straight at Yu Ruishu.
The watcher shook his head slowly, as if warning. Then, with great effort, he nodded toward the window, then to the notebook in Yu Ruishu's hands.
Go. Take that. Quickly.
Why? Why would a watcher help his target?
There was no time to ask. Outside, footsteps approached. Si Bisu quickly pulled them down into the tunnel, closing the trapboard. They heard someone entering the shack, then shouting upon finding their comrade bound.
They ran through the tunnel, back to the main hideout, hearts pounding and the notebook now burning in their grip.
The information they had obtained was a double-edged sword. They now understood the scale and horrific nature of the threat. But they also knew that within the system itself, there might be cracks—like the watcher whose eyes were full of despair.
Yu Ruishu opened the notebook again, last page. Behind the sketch of the Soul Distillation Tower, in tiny almost illegible writing, was a sentence:
"Balance is an illusion. The Ledger has been manipulated. Save what can be saved."
The sentence wasn't an official report. It was a personal message, a restrained cry.
Who wrote it? The watcher? His superiors?
One thing was clear: their fight was no longer just about surviving in the graveyard. It was a battle against a massive machine that harvested human souls in the name of "balance." And somehow, Yu Ruishu, the "empty" one, and Xiao Mei, the "Sign Interpreter," were keys inside it.
That night, underground, they no longer planned a distraction. They planned an escape and an investigation. They had to get out of Mercy Grave, into the city, and uncover the truth about the "Soul Distillation Tower" and who really controlled the manipulated "Ledger."
But for that, they needed more than secret tunnels. They needed new identities, resources, and perhaps—stronger allies within the city itself.
And the desperate gaze of the watcher continued to haunt Yu Ruishu's mind. One question lingered: within this monstrous system, were there still people trying to resist?