"In this world, there are only two organizations that would accept a Fusionist: the Fusion Faction and the Twilight Society."
Han Meng's voice was calm, as if piercing straight into the deepest secrets of Chen Ling's heart.
"The Fusion Faction are entirely composed of Fusionist, but their members are typically fanatical advocates of 'fusion' and 'evolution,' believing that divine paths are shortcuts that don’t belong in humanity’s evolutionary direction... If you were with the Fusion Faction, you wouldn’t have debated good and evil with me just now. Instead, you would’ve urged me to abandon the divine path and embrace true evolution."
His words were deliberate, methodical.
"Therefore… you’re from the Twilight Society."
Hearing this, Chen Ling frowned slightly beneath his mask. He hadn’t expected Han Meng to stay silent earlier just to lull him into lowering his guard, waiting for him to speak first…
Han Meng had deliberately only mentioned the "Crimson Sky Cult" and the "Twilight Society," omitting the "Fusionists"—a carefully laid trap to determine which faction Chen Ling belonged to.
"Can’t I just not belong to any faction?" Chen Ling countered.
"Of course you can." Han Meng paused briefly. "I’ll admit, there was some guesswork involved… but it seems my bet was correct."
Trying to bluff me again?
Chen Ling recalled the first time Han Meng had tricked him. He’d avoided it then, but this time, he’d fallen for it… This old fox. He should’ve just left earlier. The longer he stayed around Han Meng, the more flaws he’d reveal.
Still, even with his Twilight Society identity exposed, Chen Ling wasn’t particularly flustered. After all, even if Han Meng hadn’t probed him, he would’ve found a way to reveal it himself eventually.
The black mask studied Han Meng for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle, as if amused by something.
"You’re clever. Ever considered joining the Twilight Society?"
"No." Han Meng refused flatly.
"Why not?"
"Because I’m an enforcer. And you… are criminals who seek the world’s destruction."
"We only wish to reset the world." The crimson eyes on the mask bore into Han Meng. "You said it yourself—enforcers don’t represent righteousness. So what makes us criminals?"
"Resetting the world is destroying it. How else would you start anew?"
Chen Ling was momentarily speechless.
"The Aurora Domain may be rotten to its core, but it still shelters millions… And enforcers exist to protect it." Han Meng met the mask’s gaze steadily. "I don’t care what other enforcers do. But I, Han Meng, will fulfill my duty to the end."
A cold wind swept across the gray sky as the two figures stood facing each other—one in a black coat, the other in crimson robes—their garments fluttering sharply in the gale.
"Very well… You may leave." The voice from behind the mask was icy.
Chen Ling had revealed his Twilight Society affiliation to test whether Han Meng could be swayed to their side. He’d thought Han Meng, a super-genius suppressed, sidelined, and exiled outside Aurora City, would be the perfect target for recruitment.
But Han Meng’s answer, while disappointing, wasn’t unexpected.
Han Meng, too, understood that the other had saved him in hopes of recruiting him. Now that he’d outright refused, the red-robed man had lost all interest in him.
The fact that he wasn’t killed on the spot and was instead allowed to leave was already beyond Han Meng’s expectations.
With nothing left to probe, Han Meng said no more. He cast one last glance at the crimson robes billowing in the wind, then turned and strode toward the convergence point where he’d first entered the Gray Realm.
In this monochrome world, the two figures—one black, one red—parted ways.
As the black silhouette gradually vanished into the distance, massive, swaying shadows once again emerged on the horizon, creeping toward the direction Han Meng had gone. The faint tremors underfoot seemed to herald impending disaster.
Alone on the desolate earth, the crimson robes swayed soundlessly. The black mask stared in that direction for a long time before shaking its head with a resigned sigh…
---
Hearing the distant screeches, Han Meng’s heart sank.
As expected, the only reason he’d been able to traverse the Gray Realm safely for so long was his proximity to the mysterious red-robed figure. Now that he’d left, the Calamities had locked onto him again…
Having rested for a while, Han Meng’s body had mostly recovered. He took a deep breath, then shot into the air like a black arrow!
The convergence point wasn’t far now. At full speed, he should be able to make it back before the Calamities caught up.
As he ascended, the gray vortex hanging in the air came into view—but around it, swarms of shadowy figures were madly pouring back in. They were the same shadow centipedes Han Meng had fought earlier.
His expression darkened.
They’re going back?!
These shadow centipedes had gone berserk, fleeing from District Three into the Gray Realm, only to wander aimlessly before suddenly turning back… And judging by their numbers, at least a hundred had already returned.
A flash of urgency crossed Han Meng’s eyes. He blasted toward the convergence point at full speed, but the distance was still too great. By the time he’d crossed half the remaining gap, the last of the centipedes had already slipped through.
"Damn it…!"
Suppressing the pain from his wounds, Han Meng pushed himself even harder, plunging headfirst into the gray vortex.
A familiar dizziness washed over him as his feet stumbled onto solid ground—he was back in the steel factory.
But the ruined factory was now eerily silent. Through the countless holes in the walls, not a single shadow centipede remained. They had all vanished.
Han Meng rushed outside just in time to catch glimpses of dark shadows disappearing into the thick fog. Their direction—the heart of the district.
The shadow centipedes must have realized Han Meng was trapped in the canyon, leaving District Three defenseless. So they’d circled back for a killing blow. And they were right. Without Han Meng, no one in District Three could stop a fifth-tier Calamity.
Han Meng’s heart sank like a stone. Even if he raced to District Three now, it would be too late. The offspring had already scattered across the streets. No matter how strong he was, he couldn’t be everywhere at once. By the time he hunted them all down, District Three would already be drenched in blood.
His fists clenched tightly. Forcing himself to steady his breathing, he was about to charge out in a desperate attempt to eliminate them one by one when light footsteps sounded behind him.
Han Meng whirled around.
Standing atop the factory roof, its edges wreathed in mist, was the familiar crimson-robed figure, sleeves fluttering gently.
"Why are you here?" Han Meng demanded, brow furrowed.
"The Gray Realm was boring. I came out for some air." The exaggerated smile of the black mask was partially obscured by fog as it looked down at him. "And to give you a warning."
"A warning?"
"Light the Beacon Fire. They will come for it."
Chen Ling slowly spread his arms, his wide scarlet sleeves spreading like butterfly wings as he leaned forward, as if embracing the sky—
Then, in an instant, his body dissolved into a storm of paper butterflies, scattering into the distance.
Amid the fluttering swarm, a single playing card drifted down, landing at Han Meng’s feet.
It was the [6 of Hearts].