Volume One, Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Ferryman

“Are you sure you want to lift the restrictions on the Extradition System? You know, that thing was created by Changsheng, and we only have partial management rights. No one even knows where the servers are located, and the identities of the ‘Ferries’ who provide intelligence haven’t been uncovered at all. Besides, the information stored within the Extradition System is invaluable. If you really lift the restrictions, will Qinbao be able to use it wisely?” Dressed in white, she was somewhat surprised by Shu’s decision. Her almond eyes were filled with doubt—it was only recently that they’d decided to temporarily seal off the Extradition System to protect Qinbao.

“Qin has already completed his first awakening during the Calamity Apostle incident, and in less than a day, he broke through to the Inspiration Realm,” Shu said, raising a cup of jasmine tea and gently blowing on its steaming surface.

“What? Qinbao actually awakened successfully? But wasn’t he suffering from Anomaly Deficiency Syndrome?” The news startled Baiyi so much that she sprang upright from her armchair. “And his deficiency is acquired, not innate. Does this mean…”

“It must be a contingency left by Changsheng. Now that Qinbao is advancing so rapidly in the cultivation of anomalies, the position of ‘Ferryman’ should be returned to him. That old fox paved the way for Qinbao long ago; whatever choice he made, I believe it wouldn’t harm the child. With the intelligence support of those ‘Ferries,’ Qinbao might be able to grow even faster.” Shu ran her fingers through her hair, a hint of worry flickering in her eyes. “I can’t shake the feeling that this full-moon-level Lunar Tide is only the beginning. Who knows what this strange world will become? What if the fourth…”

“Stop it, stop it, don’t jinx it with your words…” Baiyi quickly interrupted, palms pressed together as she bowed to the ceiling in a half-solemn, half-panicked gesture. “How did you get so superstitious all of a sudden? Don’t be so pessimistic—the future will always be better. By the way, I’ll be officially on leave starting tomorrow. Might as well take advantage of this Lunar Tide to clear out my dad’s matchmaking backlog. You three are holding the base, right?” Her fingers danced across the virtual keyboard, finally pressing the central icon on the screen, officially unsealing the Extradition System and reinstating Qin as the Ferryman.

“Xiaoyue is still growing, and Lunar Shadow will accompany her and feast a bit during the Lunar Tide. I’ll also be retreating to try to break through my bottleneck.” Shu started reviewing the paperwork piled on her desk. During the entire Lunar Tide, everyone in ‘Tide’ would lose contact with one another, which was almost like a long vacation, and so everyone began to busy themselves with their own affairs.

Once all the documents were processed, Baiyi extinguished the screen, stretched lazily, and said, “Let’s hope Qinbao gets along well with those seven Ferries…” She stood, took off her white coat, and pulled out a huge suitcase from under her desk, beginning to pack for her trip home.

“Let’s hope so.” Shu took a sip of tea and murmured, “If I could break through directly, everything would become much simpler.”

“Purify your thoughts—when you break through, don’t let a single stray thought arise. I don’t want to lose another old friend next time I come back,” Baiyi said solemnly, pausing her packing and looking up.

“I know.” Shu let her hair down, pressed her palm to her cheek, and swept her fingers backward through her locks. As she lifted her head, all the worry and fatigue in her eyes vanished, replaced by a pure, piercing gaze that seemed to cut through the ceiling and walls, reaching far into the distance.

“The Three Awakenings Abyss—I’ll face it with everything I’ve got.”

-------------------------------------

October 1st, Sunday. Overcast. The warning for the imminent Lunar Tide had already been publicly announced throughout Qin City on Friday morning. All industries began preparing for shutdown, households stocked up on emergency food, and Tianshui High School, where Mode was, declared a holiday, combining it directly with the winter break. But when school let out on Friday, every student found themselves carrying two large bags, each filled with the official Winter Homework assignments.

Mode, who had buried himself in study since dawn, was suddenly interrupted by a vibration from his phone. He put down his pen and checked his messages.

Sure enough, it was a Tide Alert, but upon opening it, Mode found his interface had changed.

The word “Extradition” now appeared in the menu bar, with a new notification hanging above it. Upon clicking, a deep gray background replaced the usual white, and a dense list of headlines filled the screen, with a pinned announcement at the top.

Pinned Announcement: Ferryman Li Changsheng has been replaced by Ferryman Qin.

Mode was baffled—how much had that guy done behind his back? And what was this “Ferryman” business?

As if anticipating Mode’s confusion, a system prompt popped up in the lower right corner.

System Notice: The Extradition System is an intelligence network established by the original Ferryman, Li Changsheng. The Ferryman is affiliated with the shadow organization ‘Tide,’ but the identities of the seven subordinate Ferries are kept secret, independent of one another, and only communicate directly with the Ferryman. Intelligence will be listed in order of importance, formatted as time-place-content. Reviewing intelligence requires payment, with the first item each month exempt from fees (excluding classified intelligence). Current Ferryman account balance: 100,000,000.

Note: Ferryman account balance cannot be converted to cash. Wishing the new Ferryman all the best.

Mode rubbed his eyes, counting the zeros after the “1” again and again—not too many, not too few, exactly eight.

In other words, Li Changsheng had left him a fortune worth a hundred million, though it couldn’t be converted to cash.

On the sofa nearby, Mu Qing, who had been sleeping like the dead, struggled up to use the bathroom. She returned, groggy, and asked, “What’s up?” Before Mode could respond, she flopped back onto the sofa and drifted off again. After a week of healing, Mu Qing’s recovery had exceeded Mode’s expectations—she now moved freely, had removed the bandages from her legs the day before, and returned the wheelchair to Third Hospital. Mode had to marvel at the self-healing ability of this trouble magnet’s body. Yet, with her injuries nearly healed, Mu Qing seemed lazier than ever, teaching Mode a bit each day, but otherwise devoting herself to eating and sleeping.

Mode took a while to recover from shock, not even realizing that Mu Qing had just spoken to him. Swiping through the menu, he saw the intelligence reports densely packed across the screen—he felt as though he’d plunged into an ocean of information, the sheer volume almost suffocating.

He took a deep breath and opened the search bar, tentatively trying to search for intelligence about his city.

He entered “Qin City,” pressed confirm, and a mass of reports were filtered and organized, neatly arranged on the screen.

One highlighted report immediately caught Mode’s attention.

9.22 Qinhuang Mountains, Calamity Church related

After a moment’s hesitation, Mode tapped it.

System Notice: This is classified intelligence, expensive, please purchase with caution. Mode smirked—he was now a tycoon sitting on a hundred million; how costly could one report be? He bought it without hesitation, ignoring the warning.

This report requires payment of 10,000,000 yuan. Actual payment: 100,000,000 yuan. Confirm purchase?

Mode sucked in a breath, his earlier air of dominance vanishing instantly. One report cost ten million—meaning all his funds would buy only ten such classified reports? This was ruthless!

He quickly clicked cancel—he wasn’t about to be fleeced. Frugality had always been his virtue since childhood!

Suddenly, Mu Qing shot up from the sofa, startling Mode so much he nearly dropped his phone. Mode hurriedly exited the system, watching Mu Qing, eyes glazed, walk back to the bathroom, then return, shaking her hands.

“What’s with you now?” Mode was rattled by her unpredictable behavior. Mu Qing, still half asleep, mumbled, “Forgot to wash my hands, hehe…”

...

Another routine Fire Transfer. When the void black flames on Mu Qing’s body finally subsided and the last embers surged into the black cord on Mode’s wrist, Mu Qing collapsed on the floor, spreadeagled.

Mode rotated his shoulders, working out the joints, calming the turbulent heat within. After each Fire Transfer, his abilities seemed to grow, the anomaly stream he could manipulate swelling ever larger. It seemed the Transfer itself was a kind of cultivation for him.

“What do you eat to grow like this? I feel like after one or two more Transfers, you’ll break through to the Receiving Realm. And I’ve never seen anyone with a foundation as solid as yours.” Mu Qing’s chest ached from the pressure; she lazily rolled over and continued lying on her back.

“I don’t remember what I survived on at first, but after meeting Uncle Changsheng, my meals became pretty normal,” Mode replied, unusually without retorting. “Get up, you’re covered in sweat—don’t catch a cold.”

Reluctantly, Mu Qing sat up, took the towel Mode handed, and wiped her sweaty forehead.

“I need to go out tomorrow,” Mode said as he tidied up the snack wrappers on the coffee table.

“But we’ve stocked enough food—what are you going out for?”

“Don’t forget the Three Rules. When I go out…”

“No following,” Mu Qing replied gloomily, her eyes downcast.