Day 18 back in the squad, the internal Administration investigation began.
The target was clear: Logistics Department Head Wang Mo, 38 years old, 12 years of service, had handled all B-07 squad's scrapped equipment. In the photos Accountant provided, he was transporting boxes stamped with B-07 serial numbers into the old district warehouse. Timestamp: 03:17 AM.
"He'll go again tonight." Gu Yan's tactical tablet pulled surveillance records, "Every Wednesday at dawn, fixed route, fixed time, fixed buyer."
"Who's the buyer?" Shen Xingyao asked.
"A black-masked buyer, identity unknown." The footage on the tablet was blurry, like rule interference had distorted it, "But body data comparison shows 87% similarity with Image Master's doubles."
"That's Image Master." Tang Lan's oscillating blade was already drawn, humming softly in its sheath, "Capture alive?"
"No." The chief shook his head, "Capturing him is useless—Image Master can copy his memory, we'll get nothing. We capture the goods at the transaction scene."
"The goods?"
"Wang Mo transports equipment boxes with scrapped rule stabilizers inside." Zhou Fang pulled up the inventory, "But the stabilizer cores were removed, replaced with unrefined Rift Zone cores. These cores are raw materials for the black market's wish stones."
"How much this time?"
"Twelve boxes, equivalent to three months' production." Gu Yan adjusted his glasses, "If they hit the market, conservatively three hundred students will be eroded."
"Action plan." Shen Xingyao went straight to the point, "Intercept the convoy, seize the goods, spare Wang Mo."
"Handle Wang Mo how?"
"Dismissal, transfer to judiciary." The chief said, "But we need evidence. Lin Jin, your task—use your pencil to write 'tamper-proof' rules at the scene, solidify the evidence."
"Solidify how?"
"Make the Rift Zone cores 'confess' at the rule level that they're stolen goods." White Gloves explained, "This way, Image Master can't copy their 'innocent' definition."
"Understood." I nodded, "Tag the stolen goods."
"Correct." Shen Xingyao checked her watch, "Operation at 23:00. Prep now."
---
23:00, old district freight dock.
Wang Mo's delivery truck arrived punctually—a black van, license plate GY-731. He parked before an abandoned shipping container, killed the engine, got out, lit a cigarette. Purple smoke—Administration special blend, faint rule-stabilizing effect.
The buyer emerged from behind the container, black mask, cloak, body identical to surveillance.
"That's him." Shen Xingyao's voice came through the encrypted channel. She was on a derelict building rooftop three hundred meters away, spatial marks already enveloping the entire dock area, "Tang Lan, block escape. Zhou Fang, jam communications. Gu Yan, record the transaction. Lin Jin, prepare to solidify."
"Copy."
Tang Lan surfaced from underwater—she'd been lurking in the dock's sewage for half an hour, oscillating blade on her back, unsheathed. Her task: block the water route, prevent the buyer from escaping by water.
Zhou Fang was in a crane cab east of the dock, jammer aimed at the transaction zone, frequency maxed out, capable of blocking all non-rule-level communications, including any double-summoning by Image Master.
Gu Yan was atop the shipping containers, tactical tablet hidden under his cloak, micro-camera aimed at Wang Mo and the buyer—every frame backed up to three cloud servers in real-time.
I crouched behind a fuel barrel west of the dock, pencil hidden in my sleeve, sync rate stable at 40.1%.
The transaction began.
Wang Mo opened the van's rear doors, twelve boxes neatly stacked. The buyer didn't inspect, just handed over a case of cash.
"Pleasure doing business." Wang Mo's voice held no emotion, like reciting lines.
"Pleasure." The buyer's voice was electronically synthesized, "Next time, ten more boxes."
"Ten? Too risky."
"Risk?" The buyer laughed, "Afraid the Administration will investigate?"
Wang Mo said nothing, just lit a second cigarette.
"Relax." The buyer said, "The Administration is busy dealing with Image Master now, no time for logistics."
"Image Master is your people?"
"No." The buyer shook his head, "We're buyers too. Buy stories from him, sell to you."
"Stories?"
"Right." The buyer pulled a sheaf of papers from his cloak, "Here's next week's script—B-07 squad will fight this convoy in an encounter. In the script, Lin Jin gets eroded, Shen Xingyao exposes her spatial sovereignty core to save him. We know in advance, we prepare ahead."
Wang Mo took the script, scanned it, his face changed: "This... is this real?"
"Image Master wrote it, 99% accuracy." The buyer said, "The remaining 1% is Lin Jin's pencil."
Wang Mo fell silent, clutching the script, fingers trembling.
Now.
Shen Xingyao's voice rang out: "Move."
Tang Lan charged first—not from the water, but from the buyer's shadow—she'd pre-placed a spatial mark there, a folded space hidden in shadow. Her fist rose like an iron hammer from hell, smashing into the buyer's abdomen.
The buyer's mask shattered. Beneath it, no face—just a mass of golden text.
"A double." Gu Yan said, "The real body isn't here."
"Then seize the goods." Shen Xingyao teleported beside the van, spatial marks landing on the twelve boxes, preparing mass transfer.
But the boxes didn't move.
"Anti-mark." She said, "Each box has a rule-lock, needs a key."
"Where's the key?" Zhou Fang asked.
"In his head." She looked at the buyer, "Shatter the mask, read the rules."
Tang Lan's blade was drawn, the spine chopping at the buyer's skull. But the blade halted mid-air—not by her, but by rule-locks—seven golden texts flew from the buyer's cloak, chains wrapping the blade.
"Rule priority: no melee." The buyer said, "Script line one from Image Master for you."
"Then ranged." Zhou Fang threw the jammer, high-frequency waves scattering golden texts, but they immediately reformed into new rules: [Ranged attacks, damage reflection]
"Damn." Zhou Fang cursed, "He predicted our prediction."
"I'll do it." I said.
The pencil slid from my sleeve into my palm. I wrote in the air: [Rule-locks, invalid]
Silvery-white letters flashed once.
All twelve box locks popped open simultaneously.
"Transfer!" Shen Xingyao shouted.
But the buyer laughed: "Too late."
He snapped his fingers. The entire dock began sinking, the ground turning into black text swamp.
"This is the real script." He said, "You thought you were catching me, but I'm catching you."
Hands of golden text rose from the swamp, grabbing at us.
"Spatial lock." Shen Xingyao said, "He turned the entire dock into a Rift Zone."
"Then Rift Zone versus Rift Zone." Gu Yan suddenly stood, tactical tablet expanding, running models I couldn't read, "Lin Jin, write an exit."
"Where?"
"On..." He paused, "On Tang Lan's blade."
I froze, but Tang Lan understood. She tossed her oscillating blade, edge-up.
I gripped the hilt, pressed the pencil tip to the blade, writing: [This blade can cleave Rift Zones]
The letters seeped into the metal, the blade gleaming silver.
Tang Lan caught the blade, slashing at the swamp.
The text-formed hands were severed, the swamp splitting to reveal concrete below.
"Go!" Shen Xingyao's spatial marks finally landed, the twelve boxes vanishing—teleported to Administration warehouses.
The buyer tried to flee, but Zhou Fang's jammer had locked onto his cloak frequency, disrupting its rules. He stumbled.
That stumble.
Tang Lan's blade spine struck his neck, knocking him unconscious.
The mask fell away, revealing a young face, no older than twenty, pupils silvery-white but pale, like diluted.
"Secondary adaptoid." Gu Yan said, "Image Master's puppet."
"What about Wang Mo?" I asked.
Beside the van, Wang Mo was gone. Only a purple cigarette butt remained on the ground.
"Escaped." Shen Xingyao said, "He knew about the ambush."
"What did we catch?"
"Caught goods, caught a person, caught a lead." She looked at the unconscious puppet, "And caught Image Master's script."
Gu Yan picked up the script, detailing every step B-07 would take, including Tang Lan striking from shadow, including me solidifying the boxes' rules, including Shen Xingyao's seventeen teleports.
But one line was crossed out—in pencil, silvery-white writing:
[The script fails here]
That was my crossing-out, from when I wrote on Tang Lan's blade, casually marking the script's backside.
"So." Gu Yan adjusted his glasses, "We won a battle, but won in the script."
"What does that mean?"
"Means," Shen Xingyao said, "Image Master deliberately let us win, to get that puppet into the Administration."
The moment she finished, the unconscious puppet's eyes suddenly opened. His pupils' silvery-white spun madly, golden text pouring from his mouth:
[Transaction complete, cargo delivered]
His body began glowing, like preparing to self-destruct.
"Scatter!" Shen Xingyao shouted.
We retreated, but the puppet didn't explode—he turned into a mirror standing on the ground.
Inside the mirror reflected Changzheng High's teaching building.
[30 days until Gaokao]
[Lin Jin, hand in your workbook]
Image Master's voice came from the mirror, no longer synthetic, real human voice, smiling:
"Don't want the workbook anymore. I want you, in the classroom, alone."
"Otherwise, your teammates die."
"How?" Shen Xingyao asked coldly.
"According to script." Image Master said, "In the script, Tang Lan's shield will be spatially torn, Zhou Fang's jammer will overload, Gu Yan will miscalculate by one digit, causing your sync rate, Lin Jin, to spike to 60%, and then—"
He paused, smiling:
"Then, you will personally kill Shen Xingyao."
The mirror shattered. The text dissipated. The dock returned to silence.
Only the five of us remained, with an empty mirror on the ground.
Zhou Fang broke the silence first: "Damn, that script is more twisted than Gu Yan's models."
Gu Yan said nothing, just stared at his tablet. The screen displayed every word Image Master had just spoken, being recalculated by his model.
"Probability." He said, "What he said has 89% credibility."
"The 11%?"
"11% is Lin Jin's pencil, potentially rewriting the ending."
I looked at Shen Xingyao. She didn't look at me, only at that mirror, the silver light in her pupils like ice.
"The plan remains." She said, "Return to headquarters, interrogate the data the puppet left, track Wang Mo's whereabouts, prepare for the next mission."
"What about Image Master's threat?"
"The threat isn't the script." She walked toward the helicopter, "The threat is, we must follow the script. Because not following it, we don't even have the 89% win rate."
She boarded first, not looking back.
We followed onto the aircraft. The cabin door closed, rotors thundering.
I sat by the window, watching the mirror on the ground shrink smaller, finally a speck, like a forgotten star.
I took out my pencil, writing on the cabin wall:
[The script, in Lin Jin's hands]
Silvery-white letters. But soon after, a line of golden small text appeared beside them:
[Nice pen, ugly handwriting]
I smiled, erased both lines with an eraser, then bit the eraser with my pencil, leaving a new crack.
Sync rate: 40.1% → 40.3%
The helicopter lifted off, flying toward the Administration's silver saucer.
On the ground, that mirror suddenly stood itself up, reflecting the helicopter's shadow, then the shadow began writing:
[30 days until Gaokao]
[Time to change workbooks]
Image Master is still writing the script.
And we've already become characters in it.