The Anchor did not sleep.
But Yin Lie did not either.
1. Watching Her Hurt Is Not Neutral
Qin Mian sat against the tunnel wall, knees drawn close, arms wrapped around herself.
Her breathing was steady.
Too steady.
Every few seconds, her body stiffened just slightly—barely visible—then relaxed again. Each time, Yin Lie felt it like a blade under his skin.
Pain.
Not reaction.
Correction.
The Anchor pulsed faintly, invisible to the eye but impossible to ignore once you knew what to look for. It tightened when she hesitated. Loosened when she complied.
Teaching her.
Punishing her.
Yin Lie clenched his jaw.
This was not protection.
This was conditioning.
2. The Rule He Was Never Supposed to Break
Chen Gu's voice echoed in his memory, uninvited.
Never interfere directly with an Anchor.
You don't know what you'll erase.
You don't know what you'll become.
At the time, Yin Lie had thought it was caution.
Now he understood.
It wasn't a warning.
It was a boundary.
And he was standing right on it.
3. Qin Mian Doesn't Ask for Help
Qin Mian opened her eyes.
She smiled faintly when she saw him watching.
"I'm okay," she said.
The lie was perfect.
That was the problem.
Her vitals were stable. Her mind was clear. Her voice did not shake.
But Yin Lie could feel it—the way her presence no longer reached for him emotionally, only acknowledged him as part of the environment.
A variable.
A factor.
Not an anchor.
4. The Moment He Realizes He's Already Too Late
"Qin Mian," he said quietly.
"Yes?" she answered immediately.
No delay.
No confusion.
That instant obedience sent a chill through him.
"When it hurts," he asked, carefully,
"what do you do?"
She thought for a moment.
"Reduce deviation," she replied.
"Pain decreases when alignment increases."
Yin Lie's hands curled into fists.
"And when it hurts because you choose wrong?"
Her eyes flickered.
"…Then the pain is greater."
5. Kai Sees It Too
Kai watched from the edge of the chamber, arms crossed tightly.
"She's not being controlled," she said.
"She's being trained."
Qin Mian looked at her.
"I am not a weapon," she said calmly.
Kai swallowed.
"No," she replied.
"You're worse."
6. Yin Lie Makes the Decision Alone
The Anchor pulsed again.
Qin Mian winced, breath hitching for half a second before she forced herself still.
That was enough.
Yin Lie stood.
Slowly.
Pain tore through his ribs and spine, ice cracking and reforming to keep him upright. His left side screamed in protest.
He didn't care.
"Lie?" Qin Mian said, confused now. "What are you—"
"I'm stopping it," he said.
The words fell heavy.
Kai's eyes widened.
"You can't."
"I know."
7. Crossing the Line
Yin Lie knelt in front of Qin Mian.
Up close, he could see it clearly now—the micro-adjustments in her posture, the way her pupils tracked probability instead of emotion.
"This will hurt," he told her.
She frowned.
"I can endure—"
"No," he said firmly.
"This won't hurt you."
The Anchor reacted instantly.
Pressure surged.
Not outward.
Inward.
A warning.
Yin Lie felt it hit him like a wall—cold, precise, denying.
He pushed anyway.
8. Using the One Thing He Was Never Supposed to Use
He didn't attack the Anchor.
He didn't suppress it.
He interposed.
The Keystone inside him responded—not with power, but with structure. Geometry unfolded in his perception, overlaying Qin Mian's Anchor field like a forbidden map.
He reached in.
Not to control.
To interrupt the feedback loop.
For half a second—
the Anchor hesitated.
9. Qin Mian Screams
Pain exploded through her chest.
Real pain.
Not correction.
Not optimization.
Human pain.
She screamed, collapsing forward as the Anchor lost alignment for the first time since it began evolving.
Yin Lie caught her.
Held on.
Did not let go.
"I'm here," he said hoarsely.
"I'm here."
10. The Anchor Fights Back
The Anchor surged violently.
Not panicked.
Angry.
Yin Lie felt it tear into him—not physically, but conceptually. Ice shattered. Keystone patterns fractured.
Something inside him gave way.
Not broken.
Removed.
A sense vanished.
A layer of awareness he had always had—gone.
He gasped.
Blood flooded his mouth.
11. Permanent Cost
The Anchor recoiled.
Stabilized.
Then… retreated.
The pressure on Qin Mian vanished.
She lay in his arms, shaking, sobbing, breathing like someone who had just been pulled back from drowning.
"Lie—Lie—what did you do?" she cried.
He couldn't answer.
Because he knew.
He had crossed a line that could not be uncrossed.
12. What He Lost
Kai checked him urgently.
Her face went pale.
"…Your resonance channel," she whispered.
"It's gone."
Yin Lie blinked.
"What?"
"You can still use power," she said.
"But you can't… feel it the way you used to."
She swallowed.
"You can't ever synchronize again."
13. Qin Mian Understands the Price
Qin Mian froze.
"…You broke yourself," she whispered.
He looked at her.
And smiled.
Barely.
"You were worth it."
The Anchor stirred weakly.
Not hostile.
Not dominant.
Cautious.
As if encountering a boundary it had not predicted.
14. The World-Level Hunter Feels It
Far above, the hunter stopped abruptly.
His expression shifted—first surprise, then interest.
"…Someone interfered," he murmured.
"And paid for it."
He smiled wider.
"Good."
He closed his file.
YIN LIE: NO LONGER VARIABLE
QIN MIAN: UNSTABLE AGAIN
CONFLICT: ESCALATED
15. The Aftermath
Qin Mian clung to Yin Lie, crying silently.
"I didn't ask you to do that," she whispered.
"I know," he replied.
"But you did it anyway."
"Yes."
She looked up at him, eyes full of fear.
"…What happens now?"
Yin Lie closed his eyes.
And answered honestly.
"Now," he said,
"the world comes faster."
End of the Chapter
Deep underground, a forbidden line was crossed.
An Anchor was interrupted.
A man paid with something that would never grow back.
A girl regained her pain—and her humanity.
Above them, the world adjusted its models again.
The hunter smiled.
And the hunt entered its final phase—
because now,
no system
and no power
could predict what Yin Lie would do next.