Lin Ye didn't enter the Lower North District.
Not yet.
He stopped on a low rooftop—high enough to observe without being obvious, close enough for the Eye of the Threshold to catch irregularities. The night below was active, but not alive. Movements were precise, synchronized, as if someone had reduced the margin of error to zero.
—This isn't a raid —he murmured—. It's a reorganization.
Su Yanlin crouched beside him, her face grim.
—They're rotating shifts —she said—. Pulling witnesses. Closing secondary routes.
Yan Mo, concealed a little farther back, watched without interfering.
—This isn't improvised —he added—. Someone gave a clear order… and resources.
Lin Ye drew a slow breath. His body complained about holding the position too long, but he ignored it. He activated the Eye of the Threshold only to observe active transitions, without touching anything.
The world pushed back immediately.
Pain.Pressure at his temple.A faint buzzing—like time itself brushing against a sharp edge.
He saw fragments.
A door closing… twice.A corridor that used to lead to three exits… now leading to only one.A moment repeated too cleanly.
—They're moving him —Lin Ye said.
Su Yanlin looked at him.
—Are you sure?
Lin Ye nodded slowly.
—Yes. And not toward a quick execution.
Yan Mo frowned.
—Then they want something more than silence.
Before they could analyze further, the Eye reacted differently. Not as a warning.
As interference.
Someone else was using something similar.
—There's another bearer —Lin Ye whispered, going tense—. Not of the Threshold… but close.
Su Yanlin clenched her jaw.
—Divine Eye?
—A fragment —Lin Ye replied—. A Temporal Echo… or something like it.
Lin Ye's pulse quickened.
—He's replaying past routes —he added—. Making sure nothing "new" happens.
That was bad.
Very bad.
—If someone with that power controls movement —Yan Mo said— any rescue attempt will get caught in predictable loops.
Lin Ye closed his eyes for a moment.
—And I can't intervene without breaking something.
—Not here —Su Yanlin confirmed—. Not like this.
Down below, in a windowless room, Tao Wen sat facing a smooth wooden table. The ropes binding him weren't tight. They didn't need to be. Fear had already done the first part of the work.
Across from him, a young man reviewed a tablet calmly. His eyes held a strange gleam, as if they were reflecting scenes that weren't happening in that room.
—You're still alive —the man said without looking up—. That means you're still useful.
Tao Wen didn't answer.
—Your friend —the man continued—. Lin Ye. He moves carefully. That tells us a lot.
At last, he lifted his gaze.
—Tell me —he asked—. Do you think he'll come for you… even if he can't win?
Tao Wen held his stare.
—Yes.
The man smiled faintly.
—That's what I thought.
He snapped the tablet shut with a dry crack.
—Prepare it —he ordered—. If Lin Ye wants to watch… give him something to see.
On the rooftop, Lin Ye's eyes flew open.
The Threshold had just shifted direction.
It wasn't a warning.
It was a forced invitation.
—They're showing us the path —he said, voice tight.
Su Yanlin looked at him.
—To where?
Lin Ye pointed to a specific spot in the district.
—To where I can't reach without paying a price.
Silence held for one heartbeat.
Then Yan Mo spoke.
—Then the question isn't whether you'll go.
Lin Ye nodded slowly.
—It's how much I'm willing to lose when I do.
Down below, a metal door shut with a heavy sound.
The access wasn't sealed.
That was the first thing Lin Ye confirmed when they climbed down from the rooftop and moved into the side street indicated by the Threshold. There were no visible formations, no guards, no spiritual barriers. The path was too available, as if someone had deliberately removed obstacles.
—They're guiding us —Su Yanlin said in a low voice—. And I don't like it.
—Neither do I —Lin Ye replied—. But if I ignore it, they'll close another route.
They moved forward.
With each step, Lin Ye's body protested a little more. Not with sharp pain, but with growing resistance, as if something inside him were trying to stop him from continuing. The Fragmented Threshold Sutra reacted with constant warnings, layered over one another.
"Transition not recommended."
"Insufficient operational margin."
"Coherence risk: high."
—Don't force it —Su Yanlin whispered—. If you cross incorrectly…
—I'm not going to cross —Lin Ye replied—. I'm going to slide.
He stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid wall. There was no door. No crack. And yet the Threshold clearly indicated a minimal interruption—the precise space between "here" and "not here."
—Someone's on the other side —he said—. And they want me to see them.
He activated the Eye of the Threshold only for the instant of transition.
The world didn't bend.
It didn't break.
It blinked.
Lin Ye took a step… and he was no longer on the street.
The room was narrow and elongated, lit by low lamps that cast shadows far too orderly to be natural. The air was still, heavy, as if it had been used many times and never renewed.
Su Yanlin entered behind him, a restrained curse on her lips.
—This isn't a hideout —she said—. It's a control corridor.
Before Lin Ye could answer, something activated.
Not a trap.
A memory.
The world around them overlapped with another moment: repeated footsteps, already-spoken voices, movements that didn't belong to the present. Shadows of prior actions slid through the corridor, repeating trajectories with mechanical precision.
—Temporal Echo… —Lin Ye murmured—. He's forcing continuity.
The bearer revealed himself then, at the far end of the corridor.
A young man with a pale face, eyes shining with an irregular reflection, as if they were watching several scenes at once. On his forehead, a barely visible symbol pulsed with a steady rhythm.
—You're late —he said calmly—. But you arrived exactly as I expected.
—Where is the boy? —Lin Ye asked without preamble.
The man smiled.
—Close —he replied—. Close enough that every decision you make carries weight.
Su Yanlin stepped forward.
—Release him —she ordered—. It won't benefit you to face us here.
—I don't plan to face you —the man replied—. I plan to demonstrate.
He raised his hand.
The corridor filled with echoes.
Attacks that had already happened replayed in shadow: cuts that didn't touch, blows that didn't land… yet forced movement exactly as before.
—He's not creating anything new —Lin Ye said, forcing analysis—. He's only repeating.
—Exactly —the bearer of the Temporal Echo Eye nodded—. And you, Lin Ye… you can't do the same thing twice without breaking.
Lin Ye's body trembled. The margin was dropping fast.
—Su Yanlin —he said—. Don't try to attack.
—I'm not staying still —she snapped.
—If you attack —he continued—, he already knows how it fails.
The bearer took a step forward.
—The boy will be released —he said—. If you cross the entire corridor without using your power.
Silence fell.
Su Yanlin turned her head toward Lin Ye.
—That's a trap —she whispered.
—I know —Lin Ye replied—. But it's a measurable one.
He drew a deep breath and took the first step.
The echo of his previous step overlapped, forcing him to adjust his balance. The second step was worse. The third triggered a spasm of pain that tore through his back.
—Stop —Su Yanlin warned.
—No —Lin Ye said through clenched teeth—. If I use the Threshold here… I lose.
Halfway down the corridor, the margin had almost vanished.
Then it happened.
One of the echoes didn't align.
It was minimal. A fraction of a second out of place. A memory that didn't fit with the rest.
The Eye of the Threshold reacted on instinct.
It didn't open a path.
It corrected one.
The corridor trembled.
The bearer of the Temporal Echo frowned for the first time.
—What did you do?
Lin Ye didn't answer. He couldn't. Blood filled his mouth and the world narrowed.
But the broken echo had left something behind.
A door.
It hadn't been there before.
And behind it, Lin Ye felt a presence he recognized.
—He's there —he said, voice ruined.
The bearer of the Eye stepped back.
—That shouldn't exist…
The door began to open.