The air in the storage room they'd managed to reach was thick with dust and fear. Xiao Bai, trembling, pressed himself against the crack in the door.
"They don't seem to be coming... For now."
Lin Wei sat on an overturned crate of empty scrolls. Before him, on the dirty floor, he'd sketched the symbols he'd seen in the terminal with charcoal from burned-out wiring: the schematic fall and the digits 14-9-22.
"Explain the 'Seal of Silence' again. Who uses it and why?"
Xiao Bai, without turning from the door, spoke in a rapid whisper:
"It's an ancient, marginal practice. From early, pre-system versions of Diyu. It was believed that if you committed a grave misdeed but didn't want to bear the karmic retribution, you could... redirect it. To another soul. For this, you had to mark the victim with a special sign — so the 'debt' would find its address. And you had to drive the victim to suicide, because a voluntary departure breaks a soul's natural defenses, makes it a 'receiver'. After that, your sin is supposedly erased, and its consequences are hung on the one who 'wanted' to die. In modern Diyu, this is strictly forbidden. The punishment is immediate erasure."
"But someone is still using it," Lin stated. "And judging by the erased evidence, they have protection from above. These digits. What are they? Doesn't look like the date of death. It was on the 11th."
"Diyu has its own notation systems," Xiao Bai finally left the door and approached the drawing. "14... Could be a sector number. Or a category code. 9 — a subcategory. 22... A cell number? A case number?"
"If it's a code, it's taken from somewhere. From some registry or archive." Lin stood up, wiping charcoal from his hands. "Where does Diyu store information about karmic debts? About sins not yet atoned for?"
Xiao Bai froze, looking at him with fresh horror.
"You want to get into the Karmic Mark Repository? They'll tear us apart atom by atom! Even mid-level judges don't have access there! That's where the original, uncorrected records of every soul are kept! It's the core of the system!"
"Exactly," a dangerous spark flashed in Lin Wei's eyes, the same as in the courtroom. "If someone wants to write off their debt, they need access to that core. To change the record. Or, at the very least, know the number of their 'debt' in the registry. 14-9-22. Looks like an inventory number, doesn't it?"
The idea was monstrous and brilliant at the same time. They weren't looking for a person. They were looking for a record. A sin that someone was desperately trying to erase.
"Suppose you're right," Xiao Bai spoke as if trying to convince himself. "How do we find this record? We don't have access!"
"We have you," Lin retorted mercilessly. "You're a clerk. You know the system from the inside. You know how data moves in it. Where are the junctions? Where might these 'ledgers' interface with the general database? Where could there be a backdoor?"
Xiao Bai covered his face with his hands.
"Oh, great voids... Alright. Alright! There is... one place. The inter-sector synchronization node. Data from all registries temporarily gets dumped there for verification before being distributed to archives. It's chaos. An information dump. Sometimes fragments get stuck there... including unfinished ones or ones marked for deletion. Sometimes garbage data is dumped there before final erasure. If our 'debt' was really being cleaned, its traces might have appeared there for a moment."
"Lead the way."
The synchronization node turned out to be not a place, but a state. It was a vast, dark hall, in the center of which a vortex of glowing symbols, digits, holograms, and scrolls rotated. It resembled a digital black hole slowly grinding information. Along the edges of the hall, behind barriers of dim light, stood figures of ghost-technicians, observing the process through massive lenses. The noise was deafening — the howl of data being erased and reborn.
"We need to get to the buffer zone," Xiao Bai whispered, pointing to a narrow gallery encircling the vortex. "That's where fragments that haven't been processed yet settle. But there are also traps there. The system monitors the integrity of the flow."
They crept along a dark passage, emerging onto the gallery. The air here vibrated, making their ears ring. Fragments of other lives flew past them: a child's laughter, a death rattle, the clink of coins, a whispered prayer. Lin Wei felt the seal on his wrist begin to heat up, reacting to the proximity of Diyu's data core.
"Search by pattern!" Xiao Bai shouted to overcome the roar. "14-9-22! Any mention!"
They began scanning the streams rushing past. Lin Wei, having no access to magic, could only rely on sight and intuition. And then he saw it. Not the digits. But a familiar energy signature. That same feeling of cold, alien will he'd sensed in Zhang Mei's memories. It flashed in one of the fragments — a scrap of a confessional scroll spinning at the very edge of the vortex.
"There!" he lunged forward, almost falling off the narrow gallery, and grabbed the ghostly scroll with his hand.
At the same moment, a siren rolled through the hall. Low, bone-penetrating.
"FLOW INTEGRITY BREACH. FOREIGN ENTITY IN BUFFER ZONE. ISOLATE."
The barriers along the gallery's edge flared crimson. The space around them began to contract, the gallery walls sliding towards each other, threatening to crush them.
"Lin!" Xiao Bai screamed.
But Lin Wei was already devouring the scroll with his eyes. There wasn't much, but it was everything.
«Debt Record #14-9-22. Attached to soul: ZHANG MEI. Debt donor: [DATA DELETED]. Debt nature: Breach of fidelity oath (family vow). Weight: 87 karmic units. Status: REASSIGNMENT. Executed. Write-off receipt: #455-667-YAMA-HENG.»
The judge's name. His service code was on the write-off receipt. He wasn't just covering up the crime. He processed it. He was the notary of this infernal fraud.
The walls were already a centimeter away. Xiao Bai was frantically jabbing at his disk, trying to hack the isolation protocol.
"Hold on!"
Lin Wei, not letting go of the scroll, looked at the closing walls, the crimson light, the vortex of data. And a mad idea was born. He raised his hand with the blazing defender's seal and thrust it directly into the heart of the light vortex, into the stream of unprocessed data.
"I am the defender in case #777! Request for emergency suspension of isolation procedure based on Clause 1-G of the Judicial Actions Protocol: 'In case of immediate threat of destruction of physical evidence!' I identify this data fragment as physical evidence!"
The Diyu system, built entirely on rules and precedents, choked. The request was outrageously brazen, but... formally correct. The defender's seal glowed, confirming his status. The fragment in his hand was indeed evidence.
For a moment, the siren went silent. The crimson light of the barriers flickered, then changed to yellow, warning. The wall compression stopped.
"...REQUEST ACCEPTED. ISOLATION SUSPENDED. EVIDENCE SEIZED. ENTITIES ORDERED TO IMMEDIATELY LEAVE THE SYNCHRONIZATION NODE AND SUBMIT EVIDENCE TO THE INVESTIGATIONS DEPARTMENT."
"The Investigations Department?" Xiao Bai gasped. "But that's Yama Heng's turf! He chairs it!"
"Exactly where we need to go," Lin said, firmly gripping the now tangible, cool scroll in his hand. The evidence had materialized. "We're going to file an official statement. And look him in the eye."
They exited the node, guided by irritated but non-aggressive scanner beams. The news was apparently already spreading through the system: the living defender had not only won a delay but also procured evidence from the very heart of Diyu.
On the way, Lin Wei looked at the scroll. Could the deleted name of the 'debt donor' still be recovered? Unlikely. But the receipt with Yama Heng's name was direct evidence against the judge. Or... bait.
"He couldn't be that stupid to leave his code," Lin mused aloud. "If he was covering it up, he would have erased that too. So, the code was left intentionally. Either as a warning to others that the case is 'his'. Or... to frame someone. Or precisely so that we would find him."
"You think it's a trap?" Xiao Bai asked, barely moving his feet from fear.
"Everything in this place is a trap," Lin replied. "But now we have an invitation to the very heart of the beast. We can't refuse."
They approached the majestic building of the Department of Internal Investigations and Judicial Oversight, finished in black jasper. At the door, a cold, emotionless clerk was already waiting for them.
"Defender Lin Wei. You are expected. Judge Yama Heng wishes to speak with you. Privately."
Lin Wei exchanged a glance with Xiao Bai. It said: "Don't you dare follow me." He nodded to the clerk.
"Lead the way."
The door to the judge's private chambers was even more massive than the courtroom door. When it closed behind Lin Wei, the external hum of Diyu disappeared, replaced by tomb-like silence. The office was ascetic: shelves with scrolls, a dark wood desk, and a high-backed chair where Yama Heng sat. He didn't look angry. He looked... tired.
"Sit, insect," he said, not looking up. "You've brought me a headache of unprecedented scale."
Lin Wei remained standing, placing the evidence scroll on the desk.
"I've brought proof of falsification and ritual murder. And your signature is here, Judge."
Yama Heng finally raised his parchment eyes to him.
"My signature is on thousands of receipts every day. It's an automated process. If a karmic debt write-off passes through my department via established procedure, the system puts my code on it. That's not proof of my complicity. It's proof of your ignorance of our procedures."
Lin felt the ground give way beneath him. The judge was right. It could have been a routine operation.
"But the deletion of the donor's name? The concealment of the wall signs?"
"Perhaps the work of some negligent clerk who has already been punished," Yama Heng shrugged. "You've found a pile of circumstantial evidence, defender. None of it points directly to the crime you're trying to prove. Only to the chaos of our system."
He stood up and walked to the window that wasn't there — only fog of condensed darkness.
"But suppose you're right. Suppose there is a conspiracy. And I'm part of it. Why would I set up this complex scheme with debt reassignment? I have the power to simply erase any protocol."
"Because you can't erase the debt itself," Lin Wei said quietly. "A karmic debt is part of a soul. It can only be transferred or atoned for. You wanted to get rid of yours. Or... the debt of someone very important. Someone you serve."
Yama Heng turned. For the first time, something sharp, dangerous flickered in his tired eyes. Not anger. Interest.
"Very perceptive for an insect. You're becoming more interesting. And more dangerous. So, you understand that even with this 'evidence,' you can't do anything against me. The system will protect me. And you... the system will either assimilate or erase you."
"Then I need to go outside the system," Lin replied without blinking. "Find the one whose debt was transferred to Zhang Mei. Find the real murderer. And then this whole house of cards you're guarding will collapse."
The judge looked at him for a long time. Then he slowly, almost imperceptibly, nodded.
"The hunt you've started may lead you to depths of Diyu from which even souls do not return. Are you ready for that, living one?"
"I have no choice," said Lin Wei. "I have 0.5 out of 1000 cases. And I intend to see it through."
Yama Heng smirked. It was a dry, joyless sound.
"Very well. Since you have formally provided new materials, the investigation into case #777 is extended for another three days. Use them wisely, defender. Because when the time runs out... I will personally ensure the sentence is carried out. Doubly so."
Lin Wei took the scroll from the desk. The evidence was weak, but it existed. And now he had a new goal: find the 'debt donor'. The shadow behind it all.
He left the office, where Xiao Bai was waiting for him, nearly weeping with tension.
"Well?"
"We've been extended for three days," Lin said, walking away from the Department doors. "And the judge just confirmed we're on the right track. The most dangerous enemy is the one who starts playing with you. Now he'll guide us. Right into the jaws of the one we're looking for."
He looked at his wrist. The progress was still 0.5/1000.
But the game was only beginning. And the stakes were higher than just his return.