Volume One, Chapter Fifty-Five: The Ruins

Late in the Old Calendar era, the traces of human civilization had spread to nearly every corner of the world. Some of its most splendid creations were not eroded or dissolved by the passage of time, but persisted into the new age.

Yet, at the dawn of the New Calendar, humanity’s ventures into the unknown were far from smooth. Countless cities and outposts were established, only to be destroyed in succession. These abandoned sites and relics from the Old Calendar were collectively known as “Ruins.”

In this era, searching for ruins was no easy task—and once found, the challenge of “unlocking the door” was a whole new ordeal. Those ruins that could be easily accessed had long since disappeared into the river of ages. Those who defied the ravages of time had their own ways to remain hidden.

The ruin into which Mode and Mu Qing had stumbled was one whose entrance had been fortuitously opened by the sandstorm tornado. After resting, each took up a torch, preparing to explore the site and search for an exit.

A cursory inspection revealed they were inside a vast, deep well. Something covered the well’s upper opening; likely, the desert where they had previously paused lay just above. Below, a passage led deeper into the ruin—a narrow, dark tunnel, too tight for both to walk side by side.

Mode led, Mu Qing followed, and together they ventured into the passage. The crackling torches cast a flicker of light, dispelling only the darkness immediately ahead, while its limited glow seemed to deepen their sense of unease. Their footsteps echoed monotonously in the silence.

Mode, however, was unfazed, having endured even more oppressive environments. He did not, as was his custom, banter with Mu Qing; his focus was wholly fixed on the path, wary of any mechanism or trap that might appear.

As for Mu Qing, she had no reason for girlish fright. Through the clarity of her tea-colored sunglasses, darkness no longer existed; all was laid bare. She felt only boredom, as her companion’s vigilance left no room for chatter.

They pressed on for about twenty minutes before the corridor’s end revealed a change—a bronze door barred their way. Mode knocked, ensuring no traps lurked behind it, then demonstrated his newly acquired powers: two slender threads of metal formed in his hands, which he slipped into the lock, illuminated by the torchlight.

Mu Qing held the torch, suppressing her urge to comment. She had never seen anyone so eager to test their abilities by picking locks right after their breakthrough. Yet this door was far sturdier than the villa’s doors they’d encountered before; she doubted Mode could open it with just two wires.

A muffled click sounded, and Mu Qing realized her concerns were unnecessary.

Mode signaled her to step back, braced his hands against the door, planted his feet, and pushed with all his strength. Fortunately, the desert’s arid air had spared the lock and hinges from severe oxidation. Inch by inch, as Mode strained forward, the bronze door gradually yielded.

Mu Qing had already extinguished her torch and, like Mode, held her breath. They were unsure whether the air within the ruin, after all these years, was still breathable.

As Mode pushed open the door, he felt a breeze from the other side—a sign that airflow within the ruin remained functional.

Carefully tucking away the spent torch for future use, Mu Qing, ever frugal, produced two glowsticks from her storage ring. She bent them, handing one to Mode.

Under the cold light cast by the glowsticks, they discovered they were now in a spacious hall. The hall was empty, the floor sparsely littered with toppled cabinets—likely overturned in haste during evacuation.

Mode crouched by a file cabinet, examining it while Mu Qing wandered, searching for other clues.

As expected, the cabinets were all empty; even their labels had been removed. Whoever had evacuated had taken every scrap of useful information with them. This made their task all the more difficult.

“There’s a door over here,” Mu Qing called from the hall’s far end.

“Any way to open it?” she asked, crouching beside the alloy door, looking up at Mode.

“There isn’t even a lock. How am I supposed to open it?” Mode glanced at the card reader beside the door, his tone irritable.

Not only would his wires be useless, but even if the key card were at hand, they wouldn’t be able to open it. The reason was simple: this ruin, buried under the desert for who knows how many years, had long since lost its power source. The access system, cut off from electricity, had locked itself down.

“I checked earlier—this is the only door leading deeper. This place was likely a lounge or small storage room, nothing valuable left.” Mu Qing tucked the glowstick under her arm, hands in her sleeves, sizing up the alloy door.

“It’s solid,” she remarked, giving it a light kick. The door barely dented. She turned to see what Mode would do next.

Mode tapped the alloy door, then moved to the card reader, knocking it with his knuckles.

“What, are you going to negotiate with it?” Mu Qing was curious about his actions.

“No need to negotiate, just punch a hole.” A metallic sheen enveloped Mode’s hands. He stepped back, feet braced, and drove his hand like a blade straight into the card reader.

“Power really is handy. In the past, trying this would have ruined my nails,” Mode mused, shifting his grip to claw, tearing apart the device and its wiring, then swinging his arms to smash and dig through the concrete wall piece by piece.

Mu Qing watched in astonishment as Mode clawed through machinery and wiring, then demolished the wall beside the door, creating a gaping hole. Most would chip away at a wall for a shaft of light; he simply smashed through to make his own path.

With a final kick, Mode opened a sizeable hole in the not-too-thick wall. Dusting off his hands, he beckoned Mu Qing to follow. “Luckily, the walls here are old reinforced concrete. If they were made from the same alloy as the door, we’d be in trouble.”

“The doors are built strong to prevent forced entry. If the whole base was made from that alloy, construction costs would be astronomical.” Mu Qing stepped over rubble into the room beyond.

It was a corridor, widening as it led inward, splitting at the end into three branches, each leading to a room. The doors were identical, showing no outward difference.

“Which one?” Mode tilted his head, seeking Mu Qing’s opinion.

“Doesn’t matter, I have no idea where they lead.” She shrugged, leaving the choice to him.

“Counting flowers, counting doors, wherever the rhyme ends...” Mode recited a travel rhyme taught by Li Changsheng, tapping each door in turn until his finger rested on the leftmost one.

“Let’s go.” With brevity, Mode set about punching through the wall again, making quick work of it. Mu Qing observed that his tunneling technique was becoming ever more practiced—he was getting quite adept.

A new room, yet the same old emptiness. They searched it thoroughly, but found only two more alloy doors. This time, a mark on one caught Mode’s attention.

In the rush to evacuate, whoever was tasked with obliterating signs managed only to smear the lettering; a small symbol remained partially intact. Despite the passing years, a faint green glow shone in the darkness. The broken arrow pointed to the door through which Mode and Mu Qing had entered.

“Any clues on that side?” Mode flexed his fingers, asking as Mu Qing returned from inspecting the other door.

“Nothing—cleaner than a face.” She had searched but found nothing. “What was this place for? We’ve wandered so long and haven’t felt any of the thrill ruins are supposed to provide—‘ruin’ feels like a misnomer.” Mu Qing had expected an adventure as exhilarating as a dungeon crawl; instead, the place was empty, not even a scrap of paper left.

“If we enter here, we should reach the core area.” Mode pointed at the broken green symbol, then turned to continue his excavation.

“Emergency exit?” Mu Qing, well-informed, quickly recognized the meaning of the damaged green sign. Though now obsolete, during the transition between calendars, fluorescent green emergency exit signs were common in public and private spaces. The special paint glowed in the dark when power was lost, guiding evacuees.

For safety, evacuation routes typically ran straight from the core area to the outside, allowing everyone to flee quickly in an emergency.

In other words, by moving against the evacuation route, they stood a good chance of reaching the heart of the ruin.