SES Chapter 125 Part 2

He didn’t give chase. “Mu Dai?” he called.

It had been only seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, he heard her faint reply.

Luo Ren exhaled, feeling a cold sweat prickling his back, and hurried a few steps forward. He saw Mu Dai getting to her feet from the ground.

Only then did Cao Yanhua come to his senses and shout from behind, “Little Master, are you all right?”

That was exactly what Luo Ren wanted to ask.

Mu Dai stood up and, after a long moment, shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said.

Luo Ren went over and gave her a light hug. She was breathing hard and trembling. After a while, she suddenly broke free, let out a small sound, and asked, “Where’s the thermal imager?”

She had actually charged in holding the thermal imager.

Luo Ren took it from her without looking and said, “Do you know you shouldn’t have rushed in like that at a time like this?”

You don’t go barreling forward when you don’t know what you’re facing. You observe, you watch from the dark—don’t attack head-on.

Mu Dai answered softly, “I know.”

She’d realized it in mid-air, but she always had this fault—maybe from the martial training—her body sometimes moved faster than her mind.

Luo Ren’s tone hardened slightly. “If you know, then change it.”

He swept the thermal imager around. The woman was gone—either vanished or out of range. At least the immediate area was calm and safe: the wind was just wind, the rice just rice.

Mu Dai stood with her head down for a moment, then started to walk away on her own.

Cao Yanhua was still rattled. It was ironic—he’d just been the one dragged into danger and yet hadn’t seen a thing. Bleary-eyed, he asked Yi Wan San, “What happened just now?”

Luo Ren came up and asked Cao Yanhua, “What were you doing? Why did you reach back like that?”

Cao Yanhua stammered.

He couldn’t explain it. At that moment, he’d felt as if a cold gust struck the back of his head—yes, a single pipe of cold air. He reflexively reached out; the instant the wind brushed his fingers, it dissolved.

Then Luo Ren had yanked hi,m and they’d fallen to the ground.

When Luo Ren finished speaking, he turned to Mu Dai: “What about you?”

Mu Dai bit her lip.

On the thermal imager, the woman had been lying pressed to the ground. Mu Dai had suddenly risen because she saw the woman beginning to move rapidly across the ground.

She didn’t fully stand up—she pushed off with forearm and back leg and shifted at high speed within the imager’s view, like a quick, agile reptile.

Luo Ren had urgently asked, “Who was closest?”

She answered, “Cao Yanhua!”

By the time she said it, the woman had already reached the edge of the rice field and practically arced to a stop on her heel. Through the scope, Mu Dai saw a bizarre sight.

At the woman’s chest—where a blaze of heat showed on the thermal image—a pale-blue beam, like a pillar of light, shot straight at the back of Cao Yanhua’s head.

In that instant, Mu Dai had forgotten she was watching a thermal image; she only knew she felt Cao Yanhua was in danger. Acting on impulse, she used the momentum of the Tengma statue and lunged to knock the woman down.

Only as she leapt did her eyes finally leave the imager and she realized what she’d seen was a temperature map; in reality, people were people, shadows were shadows.

But she’d already committed. She struck the woman and they tumbled into the rice.

As she told the story, her voice quivered and she fell silent for a moment, as if some memory chilled her.

Luo Ren assumed his earlier tone had upset her and reached out to take her hand, motioning for her to sit on the round platform. “I’m not angry,” he said softly.

Mu Dai forced a smile, then shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“We rolled together. She fell on top of me and I reached out to push her.”

Her hand had landed on the woman’s chest—at the heart. What she hadn’t expected was that her hand sank in.

The outer fabric covering the chest was only a thin disguise. When her hand went in, it felt like it had slid into a hollow—into the chest cavity itself.

Through the clothing, she felt warmth under her palm, and not just steady warmth—a rhythmic undulation, like a heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her mind went blank; she didn’t even try to stop the woman when she suddenly fled. Mu Dai lay there for a long while, her hand still outstretched.

Cao Yanhua listened for a long time before he could pull himself together.

He looked at Yi Wan San. “Is this… the ‘Xiongjian’ thing?”

Yi Wan San said nothing, but of course it matched—the rhythmic hollow and that strange gust of wind.

Luo Ren said, “I think I roughly know what’s going on.”

Cao Yanhua didn’t believe him. “You know from that?”

“There are some inferences, but I’m about ninety percent sure.” He glanced at Yi Wan San. “And you reminded me.”

Yi Wan San frowned. “I reminded you of what?”

“You said it looked like an ancient altar,” Luo Ren replied.

He looked at the Tengma platform. “There’s a creepy story about this platform. People turn it into a game—late at night, one person alone at the edge presses an ear to the concrete and claims they can hear a heartbeat.”

“Most people might not care about the statue itself, but they love the game: the thrill, the bragging rights. A dare—it’s a test of courage, a wager, a prank. That’s why people like Ma Chao, Zhang Tong, Song Tie, and Sun Hailin showed up.”

Mu Dai’s eyes widened with understanding. “You mean those who framed me and Yi Wan San—the ones who lied—they all came here to the Tengma platform?”

Luo Ren nodded. “That’s the link. They’re different ages, different jobs, strangers in daily life—but they share one thing: they all visited the Tengma platform.”

Cao Yanhua mumbled, as if completing the thought: “And at night in this rice field, that strange woman appears?”

Luo Ren corrected, “‘Appears’ isn’t quite right. It’s more like ‘waits.’”

Yi Wan San’s heart jumped. Yes—she waits. The woman senses people coming, draws near, holds her breath, and waits.

“On nights like this, on that platform, people hold perfectly still and press their ears to listen for the so-called heartbeat—it’s almost ritualistic, like in ancient times when people listened for the gods’ instructions at an altar.”

“At that moment, the woman approaches silently. Maybe by the power tied to the Xiongjian, she can influence others—like…”

Luo Ren searched for a fitting image. “Like implanting a harmless-seeming virus that waits for the right moment to activate.”

“People infected go back to their lives—eat, sleep, work—but then, when the time comes, they suddenly become witnesses, or they’re arranged to act together, united in causing the same thing.”

Mu Dai murmured, “So, hearing the heartbeat and feeling that sudden gust are the prelude to infection?”

Luo Ren nodded. “Something went wrong this time. Mu Dai, you were the first to be exposed.”

She and Zhang Tong had come to the platform and mimicked the ritual of listening. Then she felt a wind strike the back of her neck and reflexively reached up. The wind vanished in an instant.

Luo Ren said, “You carry the power of the Phoenix-Luan clasp. That gust couldn’t touch you fully—that’s why you were revealed.”

Mu Dai managed a bitter laugh. “So that’s why she targeted me?”

“That night, the woman was probably nearby. After you left, she likely followed you and took note of your appearance. So later, when Zhang Tong had the accident on the bridge, the fabricated image that came to the witnesses’ minds matched how you looked that night.”

Yi Wan San sounded alarmed. “I was the second one exposed?”

Luo Ren nodded. “Your blood made Ma Chao go off the rails, but there’s a coincidence—at that moment, the woman happened to be nearby and temporarily arranged circumstances against you. The haste in that setup made it flawed, so once the surveillance footage came out, you were able to clear yourself.”

“Wu Yuping was an exception. She’s the only one whose false memories began to fade without contact with our blood and she probably never came to the Tengma platform. I think Ma Chao’s fall—when Wu Yuping rode her bike to the bridge and suddenly fell—was likely caused by someone. The woman may have deliberately caused her to stumble to briefly influence her. But because that influence didn’t originate at the Tengma platform, Wu Yuping’s memory didn’t hold.”

Cao Yanhua’s back went cold. He looked at Mu Dai and Yi Wan San. “I’m the third one exposed?”

Luo Ren didn’t answer; he simply turned back to stare at the Tengma platform.

Every name carved on that platform was the name of a living person in Nantian County—each a node of infection. If three people conspired, you could unravel the plot slowly, but what if every single person carved there took part?

What if among them were police, surveillance operators, people with influence—the kind who could drive the narrative and decide outcomes?

They were not safe now. They couldn’t face a tidal wave of framed accusations and slander.

They had to find that woman immediately—every second counted.