Following breakfast, the faint aroma of porridge and the crisp scent of tea lingered in the room. Chi Jiu sat by the window, her slender fingers instinctively stroking the stark, cold tactical bracer clamped tightly against the skin of her wrist.
Lan Wu's question—"What if that spacetime rift opens up again one day and we suddenly transmigrate back to the modern world? Do you leave, or do you stay?"—was like a silent grain of sand, grinding a dull ache into the depths of Chi Jiu's heart. Her fingertips traced the rigid, engraved patterns over and over, as if touching a ghost that could awaken at any moment, attempting to feel for a lingering warmth of destiny within that dead metal.
This bracer was her most core piece of equipment as an elite operative. It had once been her lifeline, housing her medical monitoring suite, localized positioning, and passive defense systems. Now, however, this metallic band felt like nothing more than a soul-shorn shackle.
If the spacetime rift truly opened again, it meant she could return to that highly ordered, civilized society of neon lights, precision medicine, and absolute structure. There, she wouldn't have to worry about a localized infection turning fatal; she wouldn't have to ration every mouthful of dry rations in a dust-choked desert; and she certainly wouldn't have to shoulder the life and death of thousands across the Nine Fortresses.
Yet, that world contained its own indelible shadows—there, she was merely the codename "Chi Jiu," a high-precision component that could be replaced at a moment's notice, the sharpest yet most expendable blade in the hands of the Organization.
"This bracer..." Chi Jiu pressed her fingertips against the frozen engravings, her tone laced with a heavy gravity and bewilderment. "Ever since the three of us crossed paths, it inexplicably lost all functionality. Even the most basic biometric pulse sensor has gone dead."
Hearing this, Lan Wu sat up and mirrored the gesture, feeling the edge of her own identical wristband. The remaining traces of mirth faded from her face, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness. She picked at the rim of the bracer, half-hoping to coax out a brilliant amber holographic display as she used to, but nothing emerged from the dull, leaden metal.
"Yeah, this whole thing is deeply bizarre," Lan Wu sighed, leaning her head back against the chair with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Back then, Lan Yi swore up and down that this model utilized the latest solar tech—as long as there was light, it would run. On the entire journey back from the Southern Tang, I practically treated it like an ancestral deity. The moment the sun peeked out, I'd stick my hand out to bake. I tanned the back of my hand a full shade darker, and for what?"
Lan Wu flicked her wrist, letting the heavy metal band clink sharply against the edge of the wooden table.
"The damn thing won't even blink. Now it's just a useless piece of costume jewelry—and a cheap-looking one at that, worse than something you'd buy at a night market stall. If I knew this tech would go on strike the moment it hit antiquity, I would have told Lan Yi to forge the casing out of solid gold. At least I could melt it down right now, buy a couple of decent estates, and live comfortably as a landlord. Isn't that better than carrying a piece of scrap metal?"
Watching Lan Wu complain about her tan, the tight line of Chi Jiu's lips softened slightly, and the frost in her eyes melted a fraction. Yet, she knew better than anyone that the collective failure of their equipment was not a matter of battery life or a mechanical glitch. This was a systemic, fundamental severance.
"This bracer is our sole remaining anchor to that world—our only umbilical cord," Chi Jiu murmured, staring down at her wrist, her voice dropped so low it was as if she feared alerting some unseen observer in the void. "Now that it has gone completely dark, does it mean... the gateway to that era has closed on us permanently? We've been marooned in this timeline, Lan Wu."
The air in the room turned deathly still. Lan Wu's cynical facade completely vanished as their gazes locked across the space. The terrifying realization that they might never go back—that they might be lost forever in the dust of history—suffocated them for a fleeting second. It wasn't just the ache of losing their home; it was the crushing isolation of being anomalies in time.
Taking a sharp breath, Lan Wu forced a casual wave of her hand, shattering the suffocating silence. "Pfft, let it stay dead! What's the big deal anyway? It's not like that world had anything worth missing—just endless missions and systematic brainwashing. Look at us, Captain! We've already drawn up the entire blueprint for the Nine Fortresses of Zhanchuan. Ruling as founding figures, as the queens of this wasteland, beats going back to be an expandable tool prime for decommissioning. Am I right?"
Chi Jiu did not answer immediately. She simply pulled her sleeve down with a deliberate motion, concealing the silent metal band once more. Forcing that fleeting surge of nostalgia and unease back into the deepest recesses of her mind, she lifted her head, her gaze returning to its signature lethal calm.
"Forget it. We waste no more time analyzing this hardware," Chi Jiu said, standing up with efficient, crisp movements, effectively severing her ties with the past. "Its operational life has ended; ours is just beginning. Since there is no going back, we will claim this era as our own. Assemble the team. Ironing out the organization and defense structures of the Nine Fortresses is far more critical than studying a piece of scrap iron."
Seeing her captain return to her iron-willed, decisive self, Lan Wu immediately put away her playful demeanor. She rose, smoothing the creases of her skirt, her eyes burning with a renewed combat readiness. "Understood, Captain!"
As the two figures vanished past the veranda, the morning sun spilled across the tabletop, illuminating the abandoned porcelain teacup as its final wisp of steam drifted away into nothingness.
Chi Jiu and Lan Wu navigated the winding stone paths. The moment they stepped out of the main courtyard, they caught sight of a familiar figure lounging under the veranda.
Huang Qi was leaning elegantly against a vermilion pillar, idly playing with an exquisite ivory folding fan, her deep gaze fixed intently on the center of the courtyard.
Following her line of sight to the open training grounds, they saw the morning light washing over Chu Fengning, who was dressed in sleek, functional training robes. Holding a wooden practice sword, he was patiently correcting Qi Hao's horse stance and weight distribution.
"Keep your center of mass low, and let your breath break like thunder. Hao'er, while the Chu family style values elegance, survival on the battlefield relies solely on stability and ruthlessness." Chu Fengning's voice was steady and powerful, carrying the unmistakable edge of a man tempered by years of border warfare.
Despite his tender age, Qi Hao was already drenched in sweat, yet his teeth remained clenched. His youthful eyes burned with a fierce, stubborn determination far beyond his years. He meticulously executed the monotonous movements, the wooden sword slicing through the air with absolute focus.
Chi Jiu and Lan Wu slowed their pace, observing from the far end of the long corridor.
"Well, well. You're up early, Huang Qi. Enjoying the view as the manor's new dean?" Lan Wu crossed her arms, arching her brows suggestively. "With the way you're staring, are you playing some long-term 'character-cultivation game'? What kind of weapon of mass destruction are you planning to turn this little heir into? Going to have him conquer empires for you later?"
"Lan Wu, you've spent far too much time playing modern video games," Huang Qi countered smoothly without turning around. She snapped her ivory fan shut, using the tip to point toward the center of the training grounds. "I am observing Chu Fengning's instructional precision. Those are genuine killing techniques—devoid of any theatrical flourish. As for the boy, Qi Hao... his psychological resilience is remarkably high. In the corporate world, he would be classified as a blue-chip asset of the highest caliber."
Huang Qi paused, lightly tapping the ivory fan against her palm, her tone shifting to the calculated decisiveness of a corporate tycoon. "I am not playing a game. I am evaluating the future yield of this investment. If Chu Fengning's martial foundation can be paired with your advanced hardware, Lan Wu, and backed by Chi Jiu's special operations strategy... Qi Hao will eventually become a hidden trump card that catches the entire world off guard."
Chi Jiu looked at Qi Hao, who was pouring blood and sweat under the harsh sun, and then at Chu Fengning, who stood as a steadfast guardian by his side. She knew that in this barren wasteland of Zhanchuan, everyone was utilizing their own methods to claw out a path to survival.
"Then we shall wait and see," Chi Jiu spoke flatly, flicking her cloak behind her with a sharp movement, her eyes cold and piercing. "Whether you call it cultivation or an investment, we are currently facing the most primitive struggle for survival. Let us move to the council chamber. Settling the territorial distribution of those nine factions takes absolute precedence. After all, without a fortified territory, even the finest investment is merely a castle in the air."