[Modern Arc Side Story]

A city in northern China.

On a sweltering summer afternoon without even a whisper of breeze, the meteorological bureau issued a notice that a heavy thunderstorm would arrive shortly, advising citizens to remain indoors.

Many residents were perplexed upon receiving this message.

The sky was completely clear—how could there be any sign of impending rain?

Yet surprisingly, within fifteen minutes, thick clouds accumulated overhead, and the sky darkened with astonishing speed.

The downpour arrived suddenly, accompanied by rolling thunder.

When purple lightning tore through the clouds, from a distance, it resembled a terrifying claw reaching from the heavens toward the earth.

Then, as if “pricked” by a lightning rod atop a tall building, it retracted.

In truth, this storm was “man-made”—created to conceal the unusual phenomena caused by the China Special Affairs Department (or simply “Special Department”) as they activated a formation to connect with another world.

The lightning was similar to an aircraft, and the lightning rod functioned as a terminal.

The moment the lightning touched the rod, two figures descended with it—Xiang Haikui and Yin Changli.

Spiritual energy radiated from them both, deflecting the torrential rain.

“It’s exactly as Director Qu Song said—my spiritual power has been severely suppressed,” Xiang Haikui remarked before she’d even opened her eyes.

Her spiritual power had been reduced by at least seven-tenths, leaving her with only thirty percent of her normal capacity.

This was due to the different spiritual attributes between the two worlds.

She would need time to adapt.

“I’m fine,” Yin Changli said after examining himself.

“Of course you are,” Xiang Haikui retorted with an eye roll as she finally opened her eyes.

Without his core, he was already rebuilding his cultivation from scratch and hadn’t recovered much spiritual power, so the difference in spiritual energy barely affected him. “How’s your body?” she asked.

Crossing between worlds severely drained physical strength—even the normally energetic Xiang Haikui felt the strain, let alone him.

Yin Changli smiled gently: “I’m alright.”

“Really.”

“Mm.”

Xiang Haikui knew he was lying but didn’t expose him. “Is it okay to leave just like that?” she asked.

Before they left, Bai Xingxian had already begun releasing the prisoners from the Mountain and Sea Realm.

Yet Yin Changli had handed everything over to leave for Earth with her.

“Without you there, aren’t you concerned those powerful beings might break their promises and refuse to follow Xiao Bai’s orders?”

“Since they gave their word, whether I live or die, they won’t renege,” Yin Changli replied confidently.

“But what if some of them were just being expedient, agreeing temporarily but planning to go back on their word once freed?” Xiang Haikui asked, then immediately shook her head.

She realized her question lacked insight—if the powerful beings of the Mountain and Sea Realm were that clever, they wouldn’t have been captured in the first place.

Yin Changli answered anyway: “Setting aside those who disdain lying, two of them physically cannot tell falsehoods. One is Di Ting, who is innately incapable of lying. The other is the Frog Dragon—its skin changes color with its emotions: red when happy, yellow when sad, and green when lying. I don’t even need to guess.”

Xiang Haikui nodded calmly.

As the spiritual storm caused by the formation connection gradually subsided, Yin Changli smiled and raised his hand to smooth the hair at his temples that had been tousled by the wind.

“That hairstyle suits you,” Xiang Haikui noticed that his once-loose black hair was now tied up high in a ponytail. “Coming back to meet my family, and you’ve specially changed your hairstyle—you’re taking this quite seriously.”

It looked good.

Xiang Haikui smacked her lips appreciatively.

She’d always thought this man suited an elegant, aloof style, but unexpectedly, with his hair in a ponytail, he transformed into a handsome young man, radiating vigor and youthful energy.

Indeed, attractive people could effortlessly pull off any style.

“Of course, I take it seriously. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Yin Changli said, making sure to agree with her regardless of his true thoughts.

Xiang Haikui raised an eyebrow.

Today could be considered her triumphant return, and she, too, had dressed with care.

After a thunderclap, Xiang Haikui heard a deep male voice say, “Miss Xiang, we meet again. And this must be Yin Changli, Senior Yin.”

It was Qu Song.

Xiang Haikui didn’t recognize him by voice alone, but rather by his distinctive manner of speaking.

Just hearing his voice, one could tell he was an “emotionally reserved” person.

She looked toward the sound and saw Qu Song walking toward them from a distance.

He had short hair and wore a navy blue Zhongshan suit with an old-fashioned fountain pen clipped to his chest pocket.

Behind him stood a row of subordinates in suits and ties, one of whom held an umbrella for him.

Quite impressive.

She’d heard he was a person from the Song Dynasty.

Qu Song came before them and cupped his hands respectfully to Yin Changli: “Senior Yin.”

Yin Changli politely returned the gesture: “Alliance… Leader Qu.”

Qu Song then extended his hand to Xiang Haikui: “Miss Xiang, welcome home.”

Xiang Haikui quickly took his hand: “Thank you, Director Qu.”

She and Yin Changli had landed on the roof of a forty-something-story building, surrounded by other tall structures and flashing neon lights. “Is this the headquarters of the Special Department?” she asked.

“Yes,” Qu Song nodded.

“It seems to be right in the middle of the city?” In Xiang Haikui’s mind, the headquarters of a cultivation alliance would be located on a mountain.

A Taoist temple or something similar.

She never imagined it would be an office building.

Was this what they called hiding in plain sight?

“That’s right.”

“Aren’t you concerned about ordinary people discovering a formation being activated on a rooftop in the city center?”

“The storm provides cover—any unusual phenomena can’t be seen through it,” Qu Song said, looking up at the sky. “As for the rooftop, there’s an isolation formation.”

“Technology can’t break through it?”

“Our formations have been improved with technological enhancements.”

Xiang Haikui was deeply impressed.

The department staff behind Qu Song all knew that, according to standard protocol, activating formations that affected weather phenomena should be done using “lightning rods” near the northwest deserts, minimizing disruption to ordinary citizens.

But this young Miss Xiang, who had already reached the ninth rank despite her youth, was a talent the Director desperately wanted to recruit. Although she had agreed to join the Special Department, she hadn’t yet formally signed a contract and could be poached at any moment.

If Miss Xiang had landed in the desert, the Director would need time to reach her and more time to bring her to headquarters, creating ample opportunity for other Chinese factions to step in first and steal her away.

The contract was already prepared, ready to be presented.

But Qu Song didn’t mention this matter and instead turned to Yin Changli: “Senior Yin, you arbitrarily abducted people from our world, violating our laws. Although no serious consequences resulted, you still need to face punishment. My sister Qu Yue should have informed you of this, correct?”

Yin Changli nodded: “I’ve come precisely to face judgment.”

“‘Judgment’ sounds too severe,” Qu Song said, cupping his hands. “My sister should have told you that according to our laws, you have two choices: either spend a year or so in prison, or make amends through service.”

“He chooses to make amends through service,” Xiang Haikui said directly. “But he’s currently unwell. Whatever task there is, I’ll do it for him.”

She was planning to join the Special Department anyway, so handling both public and private matters together was a win-win.

But Qu Song replied seriously: “Miss Xiang, that won’t do.”

Xiang Haikui frowned: “Why not? Didn’t your sister say family members could substitute?”

The words “family member” flowed from her throat like fine wine, intoxicating Yin Changli completely.

With his lips curled slightly upward, he became momentarily dazed, unaware of what they were disputing.

Qu Song clarified: “Substitution is allowed. When I say it won’t do, I mean that the tasks you perform as a substitute must be unpaid and free of charge. Those are the rules.”

Xiang Haikui let out an “Ah.”

The people behind Qu Song twitched at the corners of their mouths, especially the one holding the contract, whose wrist trembled.

Yes, this behavior was very “Director-like,” but the contract hadn’t been signed yet! At least wait until she’s been coaxed into signing before revealing your true nature!

“Director, it’s not much money anyway. Don’t leave Miss Xiang with a bad impression, or she might refuse to join us,” his secretary transmitted mentally.

“It’s not about the money—there’s simply no such provision,” Qu Song refused to budge.

“Didn’t we already violate standard protocol by activating the transmission formation at headquarters today?”

“Above standard protocol, there are special protocols, but regarding payment, there’s no basis whatsoever.”

“…”

The secretary gave up arguing—there was no winning this one.

“Fine, I accept!” Xiang Haikui found it reasonable after consideration. “What needs to be done? Should we start now?”

She disliked being indebted.

Qu Song quite appreciated her straightforward personality: “Actually, you don’t need to substitute. I have a question, and if Senior Yin can help answer it, that will count as making amends.”

Yin Changli returned to awareness: “Oh?”

Qu Song handed over a jade slip.

Yin Changli accepted it.

He also gave Xiang Haikui a folder.

Xiang Haikui opened it to find text, photographs, and videos.

Recently, in a coastal city, several bizarre death cases have occurred.

All victims died while swimming in the sea, with horrific injuries resembling animal attacks, but the bite marks couldn’t be identified as belonging to any known species.

The videos only showed the victims struggling in the water before blood turned the surrounding area red.

Authorities suspected some unknown marine species.

That section of the sea had been cordoned off.

Later, similar cases occurred in another city.

Not by the sea—the victims all died in their homes, likewise killed by something that had eaten them, with the species still unidentifiable.

One victim’s home had a security camera that captured his death.

In the footage, nothing was visible except the victim.

Yet the victim seemed to see something terrifying—his pupils contracted, he screamed in horror, fell to the ground thrashing, and his flesh was torn apart by some invisible force.

“Cases like these are classified as special affairs and fall under our jurisdiction,” Qu Song explained to Xiang Haikui. “Our people rushed to the scene but couldn’t detect even a trace of demonic aura.”

Yin Changli, clearly intrigued, studied the materials carefully for a long time before shaking his head: “I’m not sure.”

Everyone was disappointed.

If even a leader from the Classic of Mountains and Seas didn’t know what these creatures were, how could they investigate?

Xiang Haikui felt a chill down her spine and tugged at his sleeve: “Could they be ghosts?”

Yin Changli smiled wryly: “Don’t forget, I used to work in the Underworld. I’m more skilled at identifying spirits than beasts.”

“Director!”

At that moment, a crisp female voice rang out.

Xiang Haikui watched as she approached with an umbrella, wearing emerald green clothes. She was delicate and refined, with bright, intelligent eyes like dewdrops on lotus leaves.

“Qu Yue?” Xiang Haikui asked.

“Yes.” Yin Changli cupped his hands, showing more respect to her than to Qu Song: “Miss Qu, I trust you’ve been well.”

Qu Yue returned the gesture, smiling: “Senior Yin, I trust you’ve been well too.”

Xiang Haikui examined her carefully—her cultivation wasn’t high, seemingly not even sixth rank, far below her ninth rank.

Yet she had captured Yin Changli and taken him to the Nightmare Ruins, then arranged his early release. Truly curious.

Seeing Xiang Haikui staring intently at her, Qu Yue was about to speak when Qu Song said stiffly: “To business.”

Qu Yue’s expression immediately tightened as she stood at attention like a soldier before a superior: “Director, we just received news that three more cities have simultaneously reported ‘Shadow Beasts,’ specifically…”

“Shadow Beasts” was the codename they’d given to these invisible creatures that left no trace of their aura.

“Jiangbei City?” Xiang Haikui heard the name of her hometown and frowned.

She nudged Yin Changli with her elbow. “I just returned today, and this happens—could it be… targeting me?”

“How could that be? The Shadow Beasts first appeared two or three months ago,” Yin Changli squeezed her hand, thinking to himself that her habit of taking responsibility for everything would never change. “Two or three months isn’t long, but due to the time difference between our worlds, for us it’s almost four or five years ago.”

Xiang Haikui let out a relieved breath.

Meanwhile, Qu Song commanded: “Get to work.”

Everyone responded: “Yes!”

“Director Qu, I’ll go to Jiangbei too,” Xiang Haikui stepped forward. “I’ll bring Yin Changli along—perhaps after visiting the scene, he might recognize something.”

Qu Song couldn’t have asked for more and nodded to a subordinate who handed over another folder: “Why not sign the contract first, becoming one of us? It will make operations more convenient.”

Xiang Haikui didn’t even look at it, opening to the final page and preparing to press her handprint on the signature line.

Yin Changli restrained her arm: “Xiao Kui.”

Xiang Haikui looked up.

Yin Changli gazed into her eyes and transmitted: “Have you thought this through?”

Xiang Haikui was confused: “What?”

Yin Changli knew her unwavering decision to join the Special Department stemmed from their crossing worlds to find her, and she wanted to repay that kindness: “Don’t force yourself. I’m willing to offer half the treasures in my palace…”

“If you’re willing to part with them, I’m not,” Xiang Haikui brushed his hand away. “This is just an employment contract, not selling myself into slavery. Is it that serious?”

Yin Changli wanted her to be carefree, not living to repay anyone’s kindness, and proposed: “I can give them everything—would that buy your peace of mind?”

“You’re overthinking this. I’m not doing this to repay any debt—I genuinely want to see what’s happening,” Xiang Haikui’s head ached. “In your world, I acted out of survival necessity. Now it’s different—this is voluntary…”

Saying she felt a “sense of responsibility” seemed too pretentious.

But the Special Department had expended immense resources and manpower searching across worlds to bring her home when she disappeared, perfectly embodying the meaning of “responsibility” and giving her a profound lesson in “patriotic education.”

Unable to explain clearly, Xiang Haikui pressed her handprint and handed it over.

From now on, the Special Department would be her place in the world.

“Qu Yue,” Qu Song instructed, “escort Miss Xiang and Senior Yin to Jiangbei, guide them, and help her quickly understand how the department operates.”

Qu Yue: “Yes!”

Qu Song: “Senior Yin, I have urgent matters to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Yin Changli: “Please go ahead.”

Soon, only the three of them remained on the rooftop.

Qu Yue asked: “Senior Yin, can you currently activate your spherical flying device?”

Yin Changli nodded: “I can.”

“That’s good,” Qu Yue visibly relaxed and turned to Xiang Haikui. “Sister Xiang, within Chinese territory, we cannot fly freely. For travel, it’s best to use ordinary transportation.”

“I understand that,” Xiang Haikui made an “OK” gesture, pretending to be ordinary, blending in with ordinary people, and avoiding using spiritual powers as much as possible.

“However, exceptionally fast flying devices like Senior Yin’s black sphere, which move too quickly to track, are permissible,” Qu Yue explained while jumping onto the ledge, then mimicked a bird call from her elevated position.

Moments later, a flash of light landed on the rooftop.

It was a man carrying a coffin on his back, with ash-gray long hair concealing half of his expressionless face.

Xiang Haikui was startled—what incredible speed!

Yin Changli explained: “This is Miss Qu’s husband, Jiu Huang. The coffin on his back is a flying magical treasure, similar to my little black sphere.”

As he spoke, he summoned his black sphere.

“Let’s depart then. Please follow our direction,” Qu Yue jumped into the coffin, pulled the lid closed, and Jiu Huang hoisted it onto his back again. With a light push from his foot, he flew beyond the building’s barrier, merging with the rain like a raindrop, disappearing without a trace.

Xiang Haikui stared blankly, sighing: “Is this the world I lived in for twenty years?”

Yin Changli urged her to enter the black sphere quickly, amused: “Though our realm is only a small world, it has everything you could imagine, and you’ve likely seen most of it. Why do you look so inexperienced?”

Xiang Haikui waved dismissively: “You don’t understand—this is different.”

Going to another world was inherently entering the unknown—no matter how strange, one could quickly accept the new reality.

But discovering that the world she’d grown up in had hidden attributes felt profoundly bizarre.

“Besides,” Xiang Haikui crossed her arms, looking at the round black sphere before her, then thinking of Qu Yue tucked inside the small coffin on Jiu Huang’s back, she narrowed her eyes, “why do I suddenly feel that your treasure-filled black sphere palace isn’t so appealing anymore?”