Uncle Hung’s words dropped into the seemingly calm air of the tenement?house office like a heavy stone falling into still water, sending ripples spreading outward.

  “Kowloon Walled City.”

  For someone like Auntie Fung, who worked in certain local “special industries,” those four words carried weight.

  Not only because of the real?world legend of a lawless zone, but because in the supernatural world, the name referred to a uniquely dangerous, historically layered, and power?entangled living domain.

  And the “place” Uncle Hung spoke of was clearly its most hidden and perilous core.

  Inside the detective agency, even the lights seemed to dim under his presence and the two shadowy masses behind him.

  Auntie Fung, usually brash and unrestrained, actually toned herself down, invited him to sit, and personally poured him a cup of hot tea.

  Uncle Hung didn’t touch it.

  His thin yet rock?steady fingers tapped the table.

  His gaze swept across the room before he spoke—slow, deep, and clear, like pronouncing a verdict that allowed no objection.

  “Kowloon Walled City is not the demolished relic you think it is. In our world, it never disappeared. In fact… it has layers.”

  He raised three fingers.

  “First Layer: the Human Realm.”

  “A reconstruction of the old Walled City, housing roughly thirty?five thousand… residents.

  Some are original inhabitants whose souls never left after demolition—bound by obsession or special circumstances.

  Some are drifters caught between life and death.

  Some are living people who wandered in and stayed, drawn by the city’s peculiar energy field.

  It has its own rules—chaotic, but functional.

  It is the foundation, and the layer most connected to the real world.”

  He paused, then continued sharply:

  “But recently, the population of the First Layer has surged past fifty thousand.

  No new migration.

  No expansion of space.

  So where did the extra people come from?”

  Lin Che pushed up his glasses, answering almost reflexively, his tone calm to the point of cruelty.

  “Based on recent communications with spirits, we estimate… a significant portion of those ‘residents’ are spirits who don’t even know they’re dead. Their cognition remains frozen at the moment of death, so they naturally ‘blend in’ and get counted as population.”

  He added:

  “A rough estimate puts these cognitively confused spirits at over fifteen thousand.”

  The image of fifteen thousand spirits—believing they were still alive—living among the cramped chaos of the First Layer sent chills through the room.

  Uncle Hung nodded.

  “Dr. Lin is correct. And worse—there are gangs in the First Layer. They don’t care whether you’re alive or a spirit who forgot you died. They only know that territory is limited, resources are limited, and suddenly there are thousands more ‘people’ competing with them. Some behave strangely—spirit traits—and don’t follow the ‘rules’.

  This threatens their business.”

  His tone carried a hint of mockery.

  “So the gang leaders held a meeting and made a decision:

  Since the police don’t interfere with the inside of the Walled City, and since some of these newcomers cast no shadows under light, or walk through walls without realizing it…

  they’re not ‘people’.

  Thus, they’re planning a purge.”

  “A purge?”

  Ye Lingyun frowned. He was no stranger to gang conflicts, but targeting non?human beings in a place like this felt especially disturbing.

  “Chicken?blood?anointed blades.

  Sticks soaked in black dog’s blood.

  Crude but effective folk exorcism tools.”

  Uncle Hung’s voice remained flat, but the brutality of the scene was unmistakable.

  “They’ll strike at night, identify targets, and cut them down one by one.

  To them, it’s cleaning up ‘trash’.

  To us…”

  He looked at Sunri.

  “It’s a disaster waiting to explode—one that could trap countless wronged souls, rupture the domain, and spill its rage into the real world.”

  When Ye Lingyun heard “blades that can cut spirits,” his eyes lit up.

  The frustration of being toyed with by invisible entities, the suffocation of being unable to swing his sword—suddenly all found an outlet.

  He straightened, hand on his sword, a long?dormant martial sharpness rising from within.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He couldn’t help muttering under his breath:

  “At last… something I can actually cut.”

  Even he found himself amused by how relieved he sounded.

  Windbeak, perched on the cabinet, shot him a sideways glance and clicked his metal beak, but said nothing.

  Uncle Hung continued:

  “This is the First Layer’s issue. Someone must stop the purge, calm the panic, and prevent resentment from spiraling.

  Young Master Ye, this suits you well.”

  He turned to Windbeak.

  “And you—can you assist with reconnaissance?”

  Windbeak bristled, ready to snap back, but Sunri gave him a gentle, steady look.

  Windbeak huffed, turned away, and muttered:

  “…Fine! I—I’m just going to collect energy data!

  It’s research!

  Not helping you lot!”

  Classic sharp tongue, soft heart.

  “Second Layer,”

  Uncle Hung raised his second finger, expression darkening.

  “We call it the Shadow Walled City, or the Spirit Layer.

  It is the mirrored reflection of the First Layer—the main reservoir of accumulated spirits, memories, and emotions.

  Normally, the two layers stay balanced.

  But recently, the Second Layer has become unstable—space warping, rifts forming, energy flows turning violent.

  It even shows signs of devouring the First Layer.”

  Auntie Fung paled.

  “Why would that happen? The Second Layer’s always been stable…”

  “Because someone is meddling,” Uncle Hung said grimly.

  “Tampering with feng shui nodes.

  Setting up reckless reversal arrays.

  Extracting or injecting chaotic energies.

  Even forcibly twisting spirits for personal use.

  We’ve identified the culprit.”

  He spoke four words:

  “The Maoshan Taoist.”

  Auntie Fung gasped.

  “That lunatic? The one who fainted while drawing talismans?”

  “Maoshan Taoist?” Sunri asked.

  “A fraud who claims to have inherited Maoshan teachings. In reality, he learned a few scraps and now runs around causing trouble.”

  Auntie Fung growled:

  “His spells are half?baked, his talismans look like chicken scratches, but he’s fearless and tries anything! I heard he was lurking near the Walled City, but I didn’t think he’d dive straight into the Second Layer!”

  “How did he get in?” Sunri asked.

  Uncle Hung shook his head.

  “No idea. Maybe a cursed artifact. Maybe he found a loophole.

  Either way, he’s the source of the chaos.

  He must be stopped, and the damaged nodes repaired.”

  He turned to Auntie Fung and Sunri.

  “You two will enter the Second Layer.

  Sunri, your artifact and your nature may counter his twisted techniques.”

  His gaze flicked briefly to Pardy, but he said nothing.

  Sunri felt the warm pulse from the pendant—reacting to the mention of the Taoist and the Second Layer.

  He nodded solemnly.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Third Layer,”

  Uncle Hung raised the final finger, but paused.

  His eyes swept over Lin Che and the quiet Mo?Dou at his feet.

  “This one is only rumor.

  We call it the Void Layer, or the Origin Rift.

  It is the oldest, deepest source of the Walled City’s anomalies—possibly a fissure connecting to something far beyond.

  Normally hidden.

  But when the first two layers destabilize, it may surface.”

  He lowered his hand.

  “Ancient notes suggest it holds the earliest secrets of this place…

  and perhaps traces left by travelers from other worlds.”

  His gaze lingered meaningfully on Sunri.

  Lunelle’s fragment?

  The pendant pulsed again.

  “Dr. Lin,”

  Uncle Hung turned to him.

  “Your methods—reducing spirit stagnation, easing resentment—are crucial to maintaining balance.

  With the First Layer’s spirit population swelling chaotically, we need order.

  Can you establish a temporary… clinic there?

  Treat confused spirits, calm those agitated by gang actions or Second Layer disturbances, and—”

  He glanced at Mo?Dou.

  “—deter malicious ones.

  Your presence is a stabilizing force.”

  Lin Che thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Academically, this is an excellent opportunity to observe a high?density spirit ecosystem and test intervention methods.

  I agree.

  But I’ll need a proper space and basic rules.”

  Mo?Dou hopped onto the table, golden eyes steady, as if saying: I’ll handle the rest.

  Uncle Hung allowed himself a faint smile.

  “I’ll arrange the space.

  You set the rules.”

  “Then the division of tasks is clear.”

  “First Layer:

  Ye Lingyun leads.

  Windbeak assists.

  Stop the purge and maintain order.”

  “Second Layer:

  Auntie Fung, Sunri, and Pardy.

  Find the Maoshan Taoist and repair the nodes.”

  “Dr. Lin:

  Hold the center.

  Sort the spirits.

  Stabilize the flow.”

  “I’ll monitor the outer boundary and watch for Third Layer activity.”

  He rose, tapping his cane against the floor with a dull thud.

  His gaze passed over Sunri, Pardy, Windbeak, and finally Mo?Dou.

  “I’m counting on you.”

  The weight settled on everyone’s shoulders—heavy, but no one backed down.

  Ye Lingyun’s eyes burned with long?suppressed battle spirit.

  Windbeak’s feathers glowed faintly with accelerating energy lines.

  Auntie Fung cracked her knuckles, eager to settle scores with the Taoist.

  Sunri held his pendant and Hello?Mitty?stickered peachwood sword, feeling both responsibility and guidance.

  Pardy clung to his father’s hand.

  Lin Che was already drafting a “spirit cognition correction protocol.”

  Mo?Dou licked his paw, golden eyes fathomless.

  “When do we depart?” Sunri asked.

  Uncle Hung looked toward the deep night outside.

  “Now.

  The Walled City is most active at night.

  I’ll have someone lead you to a special entrance.

  Remember—the layers aren’t fully separated.

  Too much disturbance will affect all three.

  Stay in contact.”

  He handed Auntie Fung an old bronze bell etched with runes.

  “Ring this if necessary. I’ll know.”

  And so, carrying their tasks and unease, they followed a silent guide out of Fuk On Building, through the dimming streets of midnight Sham Shui Po, into an increasingly deserted alley.

  The guide stopped before a graffiti?covered brick wall and tapped several bricks in a precise sequence.

  The wall slid inward, revealing a narrow gap.

  A rush of air spilled out—thick with dampness, age, cramped living smells, and a faint, chilling breath from another dimension.

  Inside, they glimpsed tangled laundry poles, stacked illegal extensions, and flickering yellow lights.

  Kowloon Walled City—its spiritual projection—opened its chaotic, dangerous, unavoidable gate.

  “Go,” the guide whispered, fading into the shadows.

  Sunri took a deep breath, squeezed Pardy’s hand, and stepped in first.

  Ye Lingyun followed, hand on his sword.

  Lin Che and Mo?Dou entered calmly.

  Auntie Fung muttered to herself for courage and slipped through.

  Windbeak fluttered in last, grumbling, “Such a hassle,” before diving inside.

  The wall sealed behind them, cutting off the real world completely.

  They had entered the Three?Realm Citadel—a Walled City suspended between yin and yang.

  In the darkness, something tore through the air:

  “Destroyer… I see you.”

  The Citadel Arc had begun.