The freezing water of the canal clung to Lin Xiyao's skin like a shroud as she scrambled onto the muddy bank, her breath coming in ragged, visible plumes. Behind her, the dark surface of the water broke as Lu Yan emerged, his presence instantly radiating a unnatural heat that cut through the winter chill. He reached out a hand, his fingers still tipped with the obsidian-black claws of his "Stability Pill" state, and hauled her upward with a strength that felt both grounding and terrifying.
Around them, the Weaver's District was no longer the rhythmic heart of industry. The clatter of the looms had been replaced by a low, dissonant vibration that seemed to thrum within the very stones of the street. Above, the rooftops were silhouettes against a moon that remained stained with a bruised, sickly crimson.
"The resonance," Xiyao whispered, her teeth chattering. She instinctively clutched her medical chest, which was miraculously still strapped to her side. "The altar is gone, but the frequency it released... it's acting like a ripple in a pond. The catalyst in the water is responding."
"Listen," Lu Yan commanded, his ears twitching as he scanned the horizon toward the palace.
From the maze of alleys, a sound rose—a human voice, high-pitched and filled with a primal, agonizing confusion. It was followed by another, and then a chorus of rhythmic howls that lacked the animal clarity of a wolf. It was the sound of the city's commoners whose bodies were being forcibly rewritten by the alchemical poison.
"Commander!" a voice hissed from the shadows of a nearby silk-drying rack.
Three figures emerged, moving with a predatory, low-slung grace. It was the three "Feral" survivors from the Rat-Hole. Their eyes were wide, the amber glow within them pulsing in synchronization with the red moon. The leader, a former guard named Gao, knelt before Lu Yan, though his hands were shaking.
"The wells, Commander," Gao rasped, his voice thick with a developing growl. "The palace water reached the public fountains an hour before the tremors started. The people... they are changing in their beds. They don't have the training to fight the madness. The district is turning into a slaughterhouse."
Lu Yan's jaw tightened, his amber eyes narrowing. "How many of our pack are left?"
"Just us, and five more we pulled from the gutters," Gao replied. "The rest couldn't resist the resonance. They've joined the mindless ones."
Xiyao stepped forward, her "Heavenly Forensic" System activating in an automated burst of sapphire light. She didn't need to touch Gao to see the data; the air itself was saturated with information.
[Heavenly Forensic System: Wide-Area Diagnostic] Environmental Status: Post-Resonance Fallback. Infection Rate: 15% of the district's population showing Stage 0.5 symptoms. Note: The "Wolf-Spirit" catalyst is dormant but reactive to the lunar light. Immediate Need: A stabilizing agent to prevent Stage 1 "Feral" collapse.
"I need a clinic," Xiyao said, her voice steadying as her "sub-personality of responsibility" took over. "Gao, is the old herbalist shop on the corner of the Street of Ten Thousand Silks still standing?"
"The owner fled when the howls started," Gao said. "But the doors are barred."
"Break them," Lu Yan ordered.
As they moved through the streets, the "Oriental Suspense" of their situation became visceral. They saw figures hunched over in the shadows, their bodies jerking with the rhythmic spasms of the mutation. Lu Yan moved at the front, his black-lacquered spring saber drawn but held low. He was no longer just a fugitive; he was the Alpha of a dying city, and the weight of that leadership pressed down on his shoulders.
They reached the herbalist's shop, a modest wooden building with a sign depicting a crane and a pine tree. Lu Yan shattered the lock with a single, efficient kick. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and dust.
"Light the braziers," Xiyao commanded, already sweeping the contents of a shelf into her mortar. "Lu Yan, I need you and the others to bring the people who haven't fully turned yet. If they reach Stage 1, I can't save them without a full dose of the 'Stability Pill,' and I only have enough ingredients for three more of those."
"And the ones who have already turned?" Lu Yan asked, his gaze fixed on her.
Xiyao paused, a silver needle poised over a jar of Realgar. The "complexity of human nature" was a bitter pill to swallow. "If they are hunting, they are gone. Protect the ones who are still screaming for help."
"I understand," Lu Yan said. He turned to Gao and the others. "We establish a perimeter. No mindless beast enters this block. If it wears a human face but hunts like a wolf, you put it down."
As the men vanished into the night to gather the "Stage 0.5" victims, Xiyao began the grueling process of mass-producing a 'Detoxification Incense.' Her "Golden Finger" guided her hands, highlighting the exact ratios of herbs needed to neutralize the airborne resonance.
"System," she whispered, her eyes burning with fatigue. "How long do we have until the moon reaches the horizon?"
[System Forecast: 4 Hours] Warning: Your 'Heart-Pulse Sensing' indicates Lu Yan's stability is at 42%. Hazard: Prolonged exposure to the resonance while protecting the clinic will trigger his Berserk state.
Xiyao looked toward the open door, where she could hear the clash of steel and the wet, heavy thuds of combat. Lu Yan was out there, acting as her shield once again, but he was burning his own life to do it.
"Then I'll just have to work faster," she muttered, her fingers flying through the herb drawers.
The chapter concluded as a new, high-value hook appeared: A rhythmic pounding began not on the front door, but on the roof of the shop. It was followed by a voice that was cold, cultured, and chillingly familiar.
"Physician Lin, you really should have stayed in the tunnels," the voice of Eunuch Wei drifted down through the chimney. "The Empress is gone, but the Emperor still requires his immortals. And I believe you have the final ingredient I need."