20. The Song of Death

Halfway up the mountainside, in a secluded courtyard, an elderly man sat across from a beggar clothed in rags.

“So, you’ve met him?”

The old man’s beard quivered gently as he spoke, his voice wafting through the air. The flowing white beard, moving with each word, lent him the aura of a transcendent sage.

“I have.” The beggar replied, his tone suffused with reverence.

The old man, hearing this, turned his gaze intently to the star nebula before him. On that blue expanse, comets occasionally traced long-tailed arcs across the sky. At the center, a new star shone brilliantly, shrouded by layers of mist and confusion.

“Wang Hao, that fellow—even the director wants him to take over.” Whether by design or not, a hint of delight colored the old man’s face as he spoke, as if offering the beggar a veiled suggestion.

“He’s the Spirit Heir?”

The beggar’s eyes swept over the new star in the nebula, then settled on the old man.

The old man did not answer directly, only nodding gently.

“A new star rises, and time and space shift. Is it true?” the beggar asked again.

“How long have you been away, Fengxiao?” the old man countered instead.

“Ten years and three days,” Fengxiao replied, remembering the exact count with unusual clarity.

After a long silence, the old man finally spoke. “Come back. He needs you.”

Fengxiao nodded. “How strong is he?”

“I cannot see through him.”

The old man shook his head, a shadow flickering between his brows—he still could not fathom Lu Feng’s fate among the stars.

After a pause, the old man said, “Aren’t you going to see for yourself?”

At these words, the beggar rose and left the small courtyard.

…

A convoy of off-road vehicles roared down the road, their engines wheezing and coughing like overworked old horses, barely able to keep up.

“What a piece of junk!”

Hearing the voice, Lu Feng suddenly realized that Qing Zhou was behind the wheel.

“When did you get in?” Lu Feng asked curiously.

“Hmph! Like a stubborn patch, clinging and impossible to shake off!” Lin Doudou sneered, her disdain for Qing Zhou plain as day.

“Captain Lin, you’re mistaken! I’m Brother Feng’s loyal follower—wherever he goes, I go.” Qing Zhou replied with a theatrical shake of his head, earning a glare from Lin Doudou, who was grinding her teeth in annoyance.

“Enough chatter, just drive properly!”

“On it!” With a stomp of the accelerator, the vehicle lurched forward, sending everyone momentarily weightless. Lin Doudou promptly gave Qing Zhou a sharp rap on the head for his troubles.

“Any leads?” Lu Feng turned to Lin Doudou.

“Yes. Still in the Southern Fifth Ring.”

…

Lu Feng’s wariness spiked. Why had the Southern Fifth Ring become so eventful lately?

“So many people disappeared together—was there any warning?”

“There are only so many people in Division Nine; we can’t keep track of everyone. We only noticed because they failed to report at the designated contact points.” Lin Doudou explained. Lu Feng understood—just over a thousand people were responsible for more than three hundred thousand. It was impossible to manage everything.

“Did you check their residences?”

“We did. Nothing unusual. Just like the six before—vanished without a trace.”

“They’re usually so discreet. How were they discovered?”

“You mean…”

“Is it possible someone exposed them?”

“An inside agent?”

After a brief exchange, Lu Feng found himself at a loss. He had neither the talent nor experience for investigations—most of his life had been spent in hospitals. Though he’d read detective stories, theory and practice were worlds apart.

Fortunately, he could manipulate time, which made things easier. Sixty-nine people in total—he didn’t have the mental strength to review each one. The last time he watched his sister being abducted, his energy was nearly depleted and he’d almost perished at the hands of the man in black.

Thankfully, Lin Doudou later told him his sister returned safely. Presumably, after Lu Feng killed the man in black, his sister managed to escape. Since all traces were erased and she didn’t recognize him, there was no harm done.

With Qing Zhou’s reckless driving, the off-road vehicle sped all the way to the Southern Fifth Ring.

Sixty-nine people—where should he begin?

Lu Feng was still pondering when the vehicle screeched to a sudden halt. The spinning tires left a long black streak on the road, filling the interior with the smell of burning rubber and smoke.

Caught off guard, Lin Doudou and Lu Feng slammed into the front seats.

“Hiss…”

Lu Feng was about to explode when Qing Zhou, unfazed, turned around and said, “Boss, we’re here.”

“To hell with you!”

“To hell with you!” the two cursed in unison.

Qing Zhou looked back at them with an innocent expression, as if bewildered by their outburst.

Timewalkers had already sealed off the entire Southern District.

After getting out of the car, Lu Feng and Lin Doudou were approached by the lead Timewalker, who looked equally baffled at the sight of the two rubbing their heads. But the case itself was headache enough.

“Where did the most recent missing person live?” Lu Feng glared at Qing Zhou and asked the Timewalker.

The leader pointed ahead and answered quickly, “Just up there.”

“Lead the way,” Lu Feng ordered, following him to a second-floor room.

Upon entering the room, Lu Feng reversed time.

He saw a medium-built young man staring intently at a holographic projection. The projection was shrouded in mist, from which an ancient, haunting melody could be heard.

The young man then rose from his bed, his eyes glazed, and walked slowly toward the projection. Reaching it, he stretched out a hand and touched it lightly. In an instant, he was absorbed into the projection.

Lu Feng was momentarily stupefied.

How could this be?

A projection that devours people?

The young man had merely brushed his hand against it, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Yet, the melody was so beautiful that Lu Feng thought it might be the most enchanting sound in the world. If he weren’t within the confines of a mirrored timeline, he might have been drawn into the mist himself.

Leaving the temporal echo, Lu Feng’s expression grew grave.

“What did you see?” Lin Doudou asked anxiously.

“Next one,” Lu Feng replied, offering no explanation as he moved on.

Again, the same mist, the same melody…

“Next one.”

Again.

“Next one.”

And again.

…

The same scene played out before Lu Feng over and over. After several repetitions, sweat beaded on his forehead, his face turned ashen, and his lips lost all color.

There was no need to look further. Instinct told him that everyone had seen the same mist and heard the same song.

“Lu Feng? Lu Feng?” Lin Doudou watched him nervously.

“They all saw a mist, heard a haunting song, and were drawn into the mist,” Lu Feng muttered.

“That’s… impossible,” Lin Doudou and the lead Timewalker both found it hard to believe.

“It’s what I saw,” Lu Feng replied weakly, his mind struggling to process it.

“It’s the Death Singer.”

Just then, as silence fell, a figure appeared behind them.

“The beggar?”

“Fengxiao?”

Lu Feng and Lin Doudou turned, astonished, calling out the name in disbelief.