Volume One, Chapter Five: An Old Acquaintance

Northern Tibet Plateau, atop a solitary peak, a towering man clad in thick winter clothing narrowed his eyes and stared through his goggles at a terse obituary on his phone. He lingered in silence, saying nothing, only tapping his heel lightly against the ground. In the next instant, the entire mountaintop rose from the earth. The colossal beast beneath him, no longer at rest, carried the man away from the mountainside, leaving behind nothing but a heap of twisted, sunlit metal under the plateau’s cold, clear daylight.

The beast thundered forward, yet the man stood upright upon its back, motionless as a mountain. After some hesitation, he fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Crescent Moon? It’s me. Area C6 is cleared. Send someone to clean up the battlefield. Yes, I already know. After I finish with the Third War Zone, I’ll return for a while—make up an excuse for me... Oh? Is that what the Tree said? ...Very well. Then I won’t return.”

He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, falling briefly into a daze.

A low rumble from the beast beneath his feet reminded him they were nearly at their destination.

He removed his goggles and face mask, stowing them in his storage pouch. Braving the harsh, biting wind and frost of the plateau, he scrubbed his face vigorously and drew in deep breaths.

His breathing was long and heavy, like a second giant beast, echoing through the vast expanse.

Far ahead, a blinding swath of reflected light was disturbed. Within the black sea, streaks of silver and a glint of gold appeared. This slowly advancing metallic realm seemed to bristle at the intrusion of an unwelcome guest. The golden glimmer rose into the air, its serpentine head fixing a deadly gaze on the oncoming giant. A guttural warning reverberated from deep within its throat.

With a mighty step, the man launched himself skyward. The beast beneath him stumbled but, clearly accustomed to such antics, shrugged it off and charged into the metallic sea.

The golden beast king, hovering with wings outstretched, seemed provoked. Its crimson-gold scales bristled, ignoring the insignificant figure hurtling toward it, and dove to block the giant beast’s rampage through its subjects.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the heavens.

“What are you staring at?” An immense, inexplicable sense of peril struck the beast king’s every metallic nerve like a thousand-ton hammer. It opened its jaws again, but only hoarse growls echoed in its throat.

Wind and snow gathered in icy frost. The sky froze in its cold realm. Murderous intent filled the void.

“Look at me, whelp!”

Thunder rolled anew.

Black light pierced golden armor. Silver blood scattered across the firmament.

Crescent Moon removed her headset and glasses, rubbing her reddened nose and ears. She closed her eyes to rest. No doubt, in a moment, another call would come, summoning her to organize a cleanup crew for the battlefield. Rarely had she seen that man so angry—the tone alone warned her that the scene would be a mess, and the cleanup squad would be kept busy.

To her, “Tide” was not a close circle. She was still in her probationary period; apart from her brother, she hadn’t met any other members in person. “What a situation this is...” She propped her chubby, baby-faced cheek on her hand, growing rounder still. “Barely started this job and the old veteran’s already passed away. This is just too dangerous. My brother must be setting me up again...” Absentmindedly, she twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger, winding and unwinding it, again and again, amused by the simple motion.

“Changsheng...” She didn’t know the name well, only hearing her brother mention it a few times. “If the old veteran fell, how many times can my scrawny arms and legs endure... Maybe I shouldn’t take this full-time assignment after all. Suddenly, being an intern slacker sounds pretty good...” She pulled out her phone and stared forlornly at the bright task reminder under her code name, “Crescent Moon.” “Maybe... talk to my brother and skip this one? I remember you get kicked out after three failed missions. This is only my second... Should be fine...”

“Zhou Nansheng! What are you doing? Area C is about to turn into chaos!” The shout startled Crescent Moon so much she nearly dropped her phone. “Okay, okay...” She quickly pocketed her phone, donned her headset, and began coordinating communications for Sector C, all while continuing her mental calculations, not missing a beat.

Her real name was Zhou Nansheng, codenamed “Crescent Moon” in the Tide, and her internship was nearly up.

As for her brother, his real name was Zhou Beimou, codenamed “Scholar” in the Tide, wielder of judgment.

...

“...All right. I’ll let them know when they return.” Hanging up, the man unconsciously raised a can of cola to his lips, then set it down as the news weighed on him. He pressed his dry lips together, pondering how best to inform the others.

He ran a small inn, out of the way but always prosperous.

Business was good, mostly because it was the only place of its kind for hundreds of miles—the sole smoke rising for leagues around.

Happy Heaven Inn, offering food, lodging, information, and corpse collection.

...

Besides being the innkeeper, he was known in the Tide as “Cola,” responsible for intelligence gathering and transmission in the extreme southern forbidden zone.

...

“This autumn’s rain falls on today’s sorrow, old friends and old stories buried in old papers.” The blue-robed Daoist took a sip of his wine, gaze lingering on the drizzling rain outside, and murmured softly, “I never thought, after parting from Changsheng all those years ago, we would never meet again.”

“Old Liu, how did that fellow... In all the Tide, he was the slipperiest, best at fleeing when things went south. I once blocked his path for four or five months and still couldn’t make him drink that cup of wine. How could he be gone, just like that...” Across from him, a swordsman sat cross-legged, sighing deeply.

“Man plans, Heaven laughs; better not to plan at all.” The Daoist sighed again, abandoned his cup, and drank straight from the jug. “Heaven forsakes me, cultivation misleads me, beauty betrays me, only wine still brings me solace.” Leaning on the pavilion’s railing, his robe askew and sleeves rolled up, the Daoist let memories of the past surge with the present, mourning with a song, pouring out his grief.

“You’re drunk again...” the swordsman grumbled, tugging at his lips in resignation. He then lay back, resting his head on the railing, eyes closed to rest.

It was not the first time the swordsman had bid farewell to an old friend. Yet each time, he wished it would be the last.

“Life is lonely; I wander with my sword.” Ignoring the drunken Daoist, the swordsman listened to the rain’s gentle descent and drifted into a deep sleep, sword in his arms.

All who belong to the Tide, upon hearing the news, felt their own tide of emotions—whether longing, pain, anger, or sorrow. A thousand hearts, a hundred tangled feelings, each deeply moved.

Old friends pass, the tide flows on, and we, the living, see them off.