Chu Qianli noticed he had turned his back, so she lay back down as well, nearly wanting to roll around on the ground, pitifully saying, “Xingxing, come sit here—lie down with me for a bit…”
Tan Muxing heard her acting spoiled. “…It hasn’t even been a full minute yet.”
“Come on, come on, lie down with me!” Chu Qianli stared at him with wide, pleading eyes, patting the ground beside her wildly, like an overly eager little seal.
Tan Muxing heard her even using doubled words now. He glanced back at her and reminded, “You should sit up and eat.”
Chu Qianli was lying flat on the glowing map and clearly hadn’t eaten properly.
“Come here—lie down, and I’ll eat right away!”
“…”
Chu Qianli had always been good at clinging relentlessly. She even bargained with Tan Muxing and finally managed to coax him over.
She enthusiastically patted the space beside her. “Lie here, right here!”
Tan Muxing sat down beside her, still puzzled, and lay down as instructed—only to immediately understand the reason for her persistence.
The gap in the ceiling above opened directly to the sky. Beneath the vast and boundless starry sky, faint and shifting streaks of light shimmered like colorful silk. The soft beams floated gently, intertwining like graceful seaweed dancing beneath the sea, rendering the stars in the night sky dim by comparison.
“This is…” Tan Muxing was stunned by the breathtaking scene before him. He asked tentatively, “The aurora?”
“Yep, but it hasn’t officially started yet. Right now it’s just a little.” Chu Qianli sat beside him, eating as she looked up at the brilliant beams. She said wistfully, “I wonder how many years ago the founder of Haomen sat under the same sky and saw a similar sight.”
The compass was a token of Ziwei Haomen, so this place must have been left behind by the founder.
In China, it’s rare to see a true aurora. Usually, what people see are noctilucent clouds in high-latitude regions. Who knows what the founder thought when he saw this view in a foreign land?
The dreamlike night sky gathered countless celestial phenomena. Mysterious and unpredictable, nature draped its brilliance over all beings.
After finishing her meal, Chu Qianli tidied up her lunchbox and set it aside. She leaned against Tan Muxing and lay down, gazing up at the scene above.
In the night sky, more and more green gauzy streaks appeared, with blue and purple edges decorating their fringes, weaving a mesmerizing net of light.
The two lay in silence, enjoying a long-awaited moment of peace.
Tan Muxing felt her shoulder resting against his. Together, they watched the flowing light, welcoming the starlight that had traveled across the vast universe to reach them.
“Actually, before you came, Xingxing, I was doing divination here, trying to find out about the ruins.” Chu Qianli had been concerned about the Seven Stars Alignment and the mystery of the ruins, and had made time to investigate through divination.
“Did you get any results?”
“It kind of said something, but also kind of nothing. It just told me to focus on the process.”
Everyone receives different amounts of information from divination. She couldn’t determine a precise result—not necessarily because she performed it incorrectly, but perhaps because the answer exceeded her imagination.
The past is always easier to calculate than the future. That’s because we can understand the past through cases and history, but no matter how one tries to deduce it, the future remains untouched—only fragments and vague words can describe it.
Chu Qianli sighed. “So then I just lay down here, trying to experience what the founder felt. I thought maybe if I empathized with him, I could figure it out.”
She hoped to simulate the founder’s state of mind and understand his reason for creating the mechanisms.
Tan Muxing asked curiously, “So, did you figure it out?”
“Not at all. Empathy’s just too hard.” Chu Qianli raised her eyebrows proudly and boasted, “But when you think about it, the founder had it rough too—no one brought him food, no one watched the aurora with him, he probably didn’t even have a phone or flashlight…”
“…If you think about it like that, no wonder you couldn’t figure it out.” He suspected that if the founder heard that, he’d rise from the grave and give this brat a beating.
“But even though I didn’t figure out the ruins, I did feel something else.”
“What was it?”
Chu Qianli lay next to him, gazing at the dazzling starry sky. Her heart stirred slightly, and she gently closed her eyes, smiling softly. “I feel really happy right now.”
This brief moment, tiny in the scale of the universe, was enough to make her feel happiness.
No more rushing to prolong life, no more thrilling pursuits—just the stars and him.
Tan Muxing noticed the serenity in her tone. It wasn’t her usual joking or banter, but a genuine sense of contentment.
He said softly, “Me too.”
The two lay shoulder to shoulder, sharing this rare tranquility.
Until the ground suddenly shook violently.
Tan Muxing sat up abruptly, instinctively shielding her as he scanned for the cause of the unexpected change.
Chu Qianli looked up at the blue-green aurora above and said calmly, “It’s finally starting.”
They had been waiting for the moment when the light was at its strongest. Now, the compass ruins were activating.
The beams shining through the cracks in the ceiling grew even more intense, overpowering even the glow from the phosphorescent minerals in the darkness.
Chu Qianli had studied it earlier—the glowing map here was a miniature of the country’s famous mountains and rivers, including many sites of great geomantic significance. It was a rare and precious collection of examples.
Now, several sections of the map began to rotate suddenly under the mechanism’s control. The resplendent landscape shattered in an instant—the beautiful mountains and rivers collapsed continuously, painting a picture of total annihilation!
Except for the area where the two of them were sitting, all other zones were engulfed by storm-like chaos, filled with gleaming blades and flashing arrows. Countless cold, sharp projectiles rained down furiously on every inch of the ruins, clashing with deafening metallic crashes—there was nowhere to hide!
Tan Muxing saw a stray arrow bounce off a rock and fly toward them. He reacted swiftly, knocking it aside before it could even brush her clothing.
Chu Qianli watched the breathtakingly perilous scene and muttered, “That was careless. I shouldn’t have told Sister Ru Jing that she was sneaky with her hidden arrows—clearly, my founder was way better at launching surprise attacks.”
The Sanqing Bell’s location merely triggered a round of cold arrows. The compass’s location, on the other hand, unleashed an entire storm of arrows, leaving no chance of survival for those who failed to solve the puzzle.
The aurora activity in the night sky grew more intense, yet the ground felt like doomsday had arrived.
Everything shattered, the surface trembled, and a rain of arrows scoured the earth.
Facing such a scene, an indescribable emotion welled up in her heart: “What a pity.”
A pity that the mountains and rivers broke apart, that the land crumbled; a pity that the peaceful happiness was so brief.
When the Founder completed the construction of the mechanism and watched its effects, did he feel the same way?
Moments later, the fierce arrow storm finally subsided, and everything returned to silence.
Those outside had heard the commotion and hurried in, asking, “Was that an earthquake!?”
Chu Qianli quickly called out, “Wait! There are arrows on the ground, don’t step on them!”
Reminded by her, the others refrained from rushing forward and cautiously stood to the side.
“We’ll go find something to clear the way, so you two can get out.”
Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing were still in the center of the map. But now, the glowing map had disappeared, surrounded by a bottomless darkness, leaving them unable to discern directions. Fortunately, the team had night vision equipment—even though the lighting wasn’t great, it was enough to navigate.
Liu Jun, holding the communication device, said, “There’s news from the main hall: the fifth orb has dropped.”
With Tan Muxing’s help avoiding the ground covered in projectiles, Chu Qianli retrieved the compass from the stone pillar and reached into her pocket for the Tarot cards. “That just leaves the Tarot cards and the seventh slot.”
Once the Tarot cards were placed, six orbs would be set, but the seventh was still a mystery.
“The main team has arrived, and it’s too late today—let’s return to the embassy.”
It was deep into the night, and with the backup team now present, Liu Jun naturally arranged for everyone to head back.
At the ruins’ entrance, Chu Qianli followed the crowd out and couldn’t help but glance back. “I wonder how long it’ll take for the mechanism to reset. We should try placing the compass again after some time—it’s quite the spectacle.”
She truly admired the Founder’s design.
“If no one gets hurt, it’s definitely spectacular,” Tan Muxing added with deep feeling. “It was like the end of the world.”
The glowing map flipping and disappearing in an instant had left a profound impression on him too.
“If it were really the end of the world, what would you want to do?” she asked.
Tan Muxing was taken aback and thought for a moment. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
Chu Qianli teased, “Ah, then the world can’t end yet—Star hasn’t even figured out what he wants to do.”
“And you?” Tan Muxing asked. “What would you want to do?”
Chu Qianli tilted her head. “Right now? Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
Shrugging casually, she walked straight to the SUV and said lightheartedly, “I had something I wanted to do, but I’ve already done it—so I don’t have any regrets.”
Tan Muxing looked puzzled and followed closely behind her, the sound of twigs and snow crunching underfoot as they walked.
Their footsteps left two uneven trails in the snow.
By the car, Chu Qianli turned to look at him. Her eyes were full of light as she smiled and said, “I’m really happy you came with me, Star. So now, I have no regrets.”
Just him accompanying her to Country H was enough.
When the compass mechanism activated and the arrow rain descended, she truly didn’t feel any regret.
Tan Muxing was stunned. He opened his mouth, trying to reply, but no words came out.
After speaking, Chu Qianli climbed into the car first.
Tan Muxing stood silently outside. Somehow, her words felt like a farewell.
Xu Zaiyuan walked over, saw him standing still, and reminded, “Time to go.”
“Right.” Tan Muxing shook off the thoughts in his mind and got into the car as well, ready to return.
The group safely returned to the foreign embassy and could finally rest after the series of thrilling events.
—
The next day, the Chinese side and Mondsen held a meeting to track the whereabouts of the Ruinstone and Joe.
In the conference room, a long wooden table separated the two sides. Pan Yicheng sat with Chu Qianli and the others on one side, while an elegant elderly man with gold and white hair sat across from them. Next to him was the long-absent Lin, followed by the pendulum-wielding Ebner.
Chu Qianli was intrigued by the unfamiliar old man and guessed that he must be Lin’s superior.
Lin’s gaze darkened slightly upon seeing her, but he remained composed for Q’s sake.
“We’ve made a preliminary judgment that the Ruinstone was stolen by Country A. Yesterday, we found evidence of their infiltration near the border. There are likely still people hiding around the ruins.”
The high-latitude region was sparsely populated, and Country H shared borders with neighboring countries. If someone wanted to sneak in, there were definitely ways. Though the surrounding countries weren’t powerful, that didn’t stop others from coming here to compete.
Pan Yicheng said worriedly, “If the conflict escalates, the consequences could be serious.”
His team consisted of armed police, not soldiers deployed for combat in Country H. But with so many countries getting involved, it could very well spark real chaos. The Ruinstone hadn’t even been revealed yet, and things were already this complicated. If the ruins were truly activated, it might trigger an outright war. China was willing to develop the site peacefully, but they couldn’t stop others from playing dirty.
Q said, “The Ruinstone has already been placed. As long as the ruins are opened within seven days, Country A’s actions won’t matter.”
Pan Yicheng didn’t respond, but he clearly wasn’t convinced.
Seeing his doubts, Q added, “We understand your concerns. Going forward, we’ll increase security. The H country military will be mobilized to safeguard the ruins. Lin will be in charge—rest assured and continue your exploration.”
Ebner was a mystic scholar, not suited to lead teams. Q had to reassign Lin, who was more familiar with Country H.
Hearing this, Chu Qianli didn’t speak directly but muttered quietly, “Great… now I’m even less reassured.”
Q had replaced Ebner with Lin—wasn’t that making things ten times harder?
Lin could even mobilize the military. Who knows, he might dig a hole and bury her somewhere.
Pan Yicheng quickly intervened, “There’s no need to go that far. Our cooperation with Mr. Ebner was just fine.”
“But now that there are armed spies in Country H, clearly Mr. Ebner can’t handle it…”
“No problem, we also have armed police protecting security. Changing personnel now would be even more troublesome.”
Ebner: “Am I quite popular then?”
Q pondered for a few seconds, noticing how firmly the Chinese side insisted, and said surprisingly, “I didn’t expect Ebner to get along so well with everyone in just a few days.”
He was beginning to doubt Ebner’s true nature.
Chu Qianli glanced at Ebner, then looked at Lin, and tactfully explained, “There’s an old Chinese saying: ‘The face reveals the heart.’ We still tend to choose those who look better.”
Lin: “!!!”
