The morning light was pale, barely reaching through the bunker's small window. Shen sat at the table, sorting the remaining medicine boxes. He had made twenty boxes of hemostatic paste, twenty pain relief pills, and twenty bottles of antidote over the past two days. Now he counted them again, stacking them in neat rows.
Lin was asleep against the wall, her short sword across her knees. Her breathing was slow and even. Qiang sat by the door, his mechanical arm resting on his thigh, eyes half closed. He had been on watch since midnight. Jiang was in the back room, folding bandages into neat squares. Su Wanting sat in the corner, her notebook closed on her lap, eyes shut. She had not moved for an hour.
The bunker was quiet. The only sound was the soft scrape of Shen's fingers on the ceramic boxes.
Then came the footsteps. Many of them. Heavy. Deliberate.
Shen's hands stopped. He looked up. Lin's eyes opened instantly, and she was on her feet without a sound. Qiang rose, his mechanical hand curling into a fist. Jiang stepped out from the back, her hand on her dagger. Su Wanting opened her eyes but didn't stand.
"Outside," Shen said. "Ten, maybe fifteen."
A voice called from beyond the door. Rough, mocking.
"Shen Yangui! Come out. We need to talk."
Shen moved to the window. Through the gap in the boards, he saw a group of armed men surrounding the bunker. They wore mismatched clothes—leather jackets, torn shirts, dirty pants. Some had metal pipes. Others carried kitchen knives or rusted machetes. A few had pistols tucked into their belts. In front stood a stocky man with a shaved head and a scar across his cheek. The same kind of scar as the man Shen had killed weeks ago.
"Who are you?" Shen asked through the door.
"Dark Hand. You killed our brother. The one they called Scar." The man spat on the ground. "But that's not why we're here. Your father, Shen Wei, took a job from us. He was supposed to retrieve something from the Sunken Ruins. A black stone. He took the payment, then he disappeared. We never got the stone."
"I don't know anything about that," Shen said.
"Not my problem." The man's voice hardened. "You have three days. Find the stone and bring it to us. Or we come back with twice as many men, and we burn this place to the ground."
Su Wanting stood and walked to the door. She pulled it open and stepped outside, her badge visible on her chest. The morning light caught the silver triangle, making it flash.
"Door Court," she said. "This is private property. You have no authority here."
The scarred man laughed. "Door Court? You think I care? The old man owed us. The son pays. That's the rule." He looked at her badge and curled his lip. "You can tell your bosses. We'll be back in three days."
Su Wanting didn't move. "If you attack a Door Court investigator, it's treason."
The man's smile faded. He looked at her for a long moment, sizing her up. She was smaller than him, unarmed except for a pistol at her hip. But her posture was steady, her eyes cold.
He shrugged. "Then don't get in the way." He raised his hand, and the men behind him readied their weapons. Pipes were lifted. Knives were drawn. The few pistols were pulled from belts.
Shen stepped out beside Su Wanting. "I told you. I don't have the stone. I don't even know what it is."
"Then you'd better find out." The man dropped his hand. "Take them."
The first wave rushed forward.
Qiang met them at the door. His mechanical arm swung like a club, catching the first man in the chest. The man flew backward, crashing into two others. Another lunged with a knife. Qiang caught the blade with his metal hand, bent it sideways, and shoved the man back into the crowd.
Lin darted past him, her short sword flashing. She didn't kill—she disabled. A cut to a wrist, and a pipe clattered to the ground. A slash to a thigh, and a man fell, clutching his leg. She moved like water, slipping between attackers, always one step ahead.
But there were too many.
Jiang stayed inside, using her mark to push aside a thrown club. The weapon spun in the air and hit the wall. She reached out with her power again and yanked a knife from a man's hand, sending it skittering across the floor. Then a blade grazed her forearm—a shallow cut, but it bled. She hissed and stepped back.
Shen grabbed a heavy iron pot from the table and threw it into the crowd. It struck a man in the shoulder, and he went down. Shen pulled his bone hook from his belt and parried a swinging pipe. The metal clanged. He kicked the man's knee, and he fell.
Through the chaos, Shen saw Su Wanting standing still. Her hand was raised, but she hadn't used her mark. She watched the fight like a spectator, not a participant.
"Help us!" Shen shouted.
Su Wanting's eyes flicked to the scarred leader. The man was shouting orders from the back of the group, directing his men. She raised her palm. A silver light shot from her wrist—thin, bright, like a chain—and wrapped around the man's legs.
He froze. His eyes widened. He couldn't move, couldn't even twitch.
Two seconds. That was all she gave him.
But it was enough.
Shen closed the distance in three strides. He pressed his bone hook to the man's throat, the curved point digging into the soft skin under his jaw.
"Tell them to stop," Shen said.
The man's eyes were wide, but he could still speak. "Back off! Everyone back off!"
The attackers hesitated. Then they stepped back, lowering their weapons, forming a loose circle around the bunker.
The silver light faded. Su Wanting lowered her hand.
"Three days," the scarred man said, his voice tight. "Find the stone. Or we'll be back with everyone we have. And next time, we won't talk first."
Shen held the hook steady for a moment longer. Then he pulled it away. The man stumbled back, rubbing his throat, and walked off without looking back. His men followed, disappearing into the alleys.
The bunker fell silent.
---
Inside, Jiang sat on the cot, wincing as she wrapped a bandage around her forearm. The cut was shallow but bleeding steadily. Lin was breathing hard, leaning against the wall, her sword still in her hand. Qiang flexed his mechanical fingers, checking for damage. There was a new dent on the forearm plate, but the joints still moved smoothly.
Shen stood by the window, watching the last of the attackers disappear. He didn't speak for a long time.
"Three days," Qiang said finally.
"I heard." Shen turned to Su Wanting. "You could have done more."
Su Wanting closed her notebook. She had been writing during the fight. "I showed my badge. I used my mark. That's already more than Door Court regulations allow. If I had killed any of them, I would be court-martialed." She looked at him coldly. "I'm here to observe the Third Door, not to fight your battles."
"You're here to spy on us," Lin said. Her voice was flat, tired.
Su Wanting didn't deny it. "Call it what you want. I did what I could."
Shen picked up the hemostatic paste and handed it to Jiang. "Use this. It'll close the wound faster."
Jiang nodded. She uncorked the small ceramic box and scooped out a dab of the dark green ointment. She spread it over the cut. The bleeding slowed immediately, the edges of the wound pulling together. She wrapped fresh bandages over it.
Lin sat down on the cot beside Jiang. "You okay?"
"It's nothing." Jiang flexed her fingers. "Just a scratch."
Shen sat at the table and opened his father's notebook. The leather cover was worn, the pages yellowed. He flipped through them slowly, scanning the cramped handwriting. Most of it was about the Nine Doors—notes on the First Door, sketches of symbols, lists of supplies. He passed over them, looking for anything about the Sunken Ruins or a black stone.
After ten minutes, he found it. A single entry, written in hasty script on the back of a page about the Second Door:
"Sunken Ruins, third level. East side, stone coffin. Black stone, fist-sized, carved with lines. Client: Dark Hand. Deposit received. Delivery in two weeks."
The rest of the page was torn. The edge was ragged, as if ripped out in a hurry.
"That's all?" Jiang asked, looking over his shoulder.
"That's all." Shen closed the notebook. "I don't know where the ruins are. I don't know what the stone looks like. I don't know why they want it."
"I do," Su Wanting said.
Everyone looked at her. She was sitting in her corner again, her notebook open on her knee.
"The Sunken Ruins are an old world structure," she said. "Flooded during the Great Drowning. The Door Court has records of it. A few teams have gone in, but most didn't come back. The ones who did brought out strange artifacts—things that shouldn't exist. The black stone—I've heard rumors. It's supposed to open something. A door. Maybe one of the Nine Doors."
Shen stared at her. "Why didn't you say this before?"
"You didn't ask." She shrugged. "And I don't know how to get there. The entrance is underwater. You'd need a diving suit and a guide. Even then, it's dangerous. The ruins are deep, and the currents are strong. People drown."
Qiang stood. "Three days. We don't have time for a dive."
"Then we need another way," Shen said. He looked at Jiang. "Tomorrow, go to Ye Hongyu. She might know something about the stone or the ruins. She hears things in the black market."
Jiang nodded. "I'll go in the morning."
Lin sheathed her sword. "I'll come with you."
Shen looked at Su Wanting. "You're coming too."
"I have my own investigation," she said.
"You're on our team now. You come."
Su Wanting didn't argue. She closed her notebook and slipped it into her pocket.
The lamp flickered. Outside, the sun had climbed higher, but the bunker remained dim. The air was thick with the smell of blood and herbs.
Shen sat back down. He picked up the mortar and pestle and started grinding fresh herbs. The rhythm was steady—push, twist, push, twist.
Lin sat on the cot, cleaning her sword with a cloth. Jiang finished her bandage and began sorting the remaining medicine. Qiang stood by the door, watching the street through the gap in the boards. Su Wanting leaned against the wall, her eyes half closed, pretending to rest.
No one spoke. The silence was heavy, but it was not empty.