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Chapter 36: Homecoming
Li Xingyuan had been bracing himself for something to go wrong, but so far, nothing had happened.
Lin Song appeared perfectly normal—laughing, talking, and seemingly unbothered by their predicament. Compared to Li Xingyuan, who was still wandering half-naked in the freezing cold, Lin Song seemed almost too ordinary.
But Li Xingyuan couldn’t forget the bruise on Lin Song’s back—a deep, livid purple mark that looked less like an injury and more like some grotesque parasite clinging to his body. It was seared into his mind, as vivid as if it had been branded onto his retinas.
Maybe it was just frostbite or temporary discoloration from poor circulation after recovering from hypothermia—Li Xingyuan tried to reassure himself.
They found their vehicle where they’d left it, thankfully parked far enough away to avoid damage. Inside were spare clothes taken from the Tibetans’ convoy. They weren’t a perfect fit, but they served their purpose well enough. Modesty mattered little at this point.
The thick layer of snow was slowly melting under the sun’s rays, yet paradoxically, the temperature dropped further. Old Liu bundled himself tightly in one of the heavy Tibetan robes, while Lin Song, much like Li Xingyuan, showed no signs of discomfort despite the biting chill. Still, he draped a coat over his shoulders.
Their car was buried in snow, making progress excruciatingly slow. Fortunately, the rugged off-road capabilities of the vehicle allowed them to inch forward, albeit with constant jolts and bumps. Despite the difficulty, all three men agreed on one thing: under no circumstances would they abandon the vehicle.
In this now-alien world, the car was their fortress—the last bastion of human ingenuity keeping them safe. Leaving it behind meant certain peril on the journey to Jiangcheng.
Though Li Xingyuan’s body had undeniably changed, gaining abilities like unlocking and locking mysterious keyholes, he didn’t feel invincible. Clenching his fists, he felt no surge of superhuman strength. A quick test with a pocketknife revealed his skin could still be cut easily, with no miraculous healing to follow.
All he seemed to have gained was immunity to the cold—and the strange power to open and close locks.
Seated securely in the back, he experimented cautiously with his newfound ability. He confirmed that his fingers could manipulate not only the abstract, light-formed keyholes but also physical ones—car doors, locked boxes, and other tangible mechanisms.
It wasn’t entirely useless. In peacetime, this skill might’ve earned him a reputation as either a master thief or perhaps a magician—though magicians generally faced fewer risks of arrest. Either way, opening real-world locks followed logical, intuitive rules. But those ethereal, abstract keyholes? Their meaning eluded him. When he’d “locked” the service station window, the bird-like monster had been unable to enter. Did this mean he could seal spaces?
And what about unlocking? Unlocking himself had led to visions of the Silver Gate and transformed him into… whatever he was now. Unlocking Lin Song had saved him from hypothermia—but was that all? Or was there more to it?
Lost in thought, Li Xingyuan barely noticed when the car came to a halt.
“Good Lord,” Lin Song whispered in awe, his voice trembling with reverence. “This is… incredible.”
Curious, Li Xingyuan stepped out of the car. What he saw explained Lin Song’s reaction completely.
Footprints.
The footprints of the godlike entity.
They were imprinted deeply into the earth, cutting clean through the highway before them. Each print spanned hundreds of meters wide, plunging deep underground and fracturing geological layers. Pipes, cables, and any buried infrastructure lay shattered beneath its colossal tread. The strata exposed by its passage revealed millennia of compressed history, now crushed underfoot.
This wasn’t merely a canyon—it was a divine scar carved into the land. And it wasn’t alone. Every few dozen kilometers, similar footprints marred the landscape, each one a testament to the being’s casual passage.
This devastation wasn’t intentional; it was simply the natural consequence of its movement. Who pays attention to how deep their footsteps sink into mud? Yet for Li Xingyuan and his companions, the impact was catastrophic. The highway was impassable.
“Can’t we just go around?” Lin Song asked.
“We could,” Li Xingyuan replied, “but the surrounding fields won’t make it easy.”
“Let’s take the back roads,” Old Liu suggested. “About a kilometer back, there’s a provincial road leading to Jiangcheng Bridge. We can cross from there.”
Lin Song looked utterly dejected, his face falling. “I just want to get home faster.”
“Who doesn’t?” Li Xingyuan patted Lin Song’s shoulder reassuringly. “It won’t take much longer. If we’re lucky, we’ll be sleeping in our own beds tonight.”
Perhaps imagining the comforts of home lifted his spirits slightly, because Lin Song perked up a bit.
Jiangcheng Bridge was a relatively new structure, spanning the Yangtze River with grandeur. Li Xingyuan remembered attending its inauguration ceremony years ago—an impressive feat of engineering. Towering high above the water, it facilitated endless streams of traffic without obstructing river navigation below. Cruising beneath it while enjoying freshly caught fish and scenic views was once considered a luxury.
The bridge symbolized Jiangcheng itself. Once across, it was only a short drive along the expressway to reach downtown. That final stretch would truly mean coming home.
This long, arduous journey was nearing its end.
Still, questions lingered in Li Xingyuan’s mind. What was the light Chen Yancheng mentioned, waiting for him in Jiangcheng’s lab? What awaited him there? How could they possibly combat the enigmatic Black Tide looming over humanity? And what did all these changes happening to him even mean?
Setting aside those uncertainties, returning home was undeniably a relief. He was exhausted—three days of sleep wouldn’t be enough to fully recover.
Regardless, the mood inside the car brightened once again. Lin Song, who hadn’t spoken of his wife’s kindness or his son’s charm in ages, began sharing stories with renewed enthusiasm. He laughed heartily, unlike during their somber departure from The Ember Base. This time, both Li Xingyuan and Old Liu joined in. Li Xingyuan spoke fondly of his aging father, an engineer in the capital nearing retirement, while Old Liu reminisced about his mother—a humble, hardworking woman living quietly in the countryside.
The warmth of camaraderie filled the car until they discovered Jiangcheng Bridge had been washed away.
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