Large swathes of precious trees had fallen, and those still standing were ablaze. The shrubs and lush grass fared even worse, being thoroughly destroyed. The ground was crisscrossed with black marks, cutting deep into the soil—each one nearly a meter wide, as if a burning giant plow had torn through.
“Just consider it clearing the field…” the Vice Principal said. “It’s actually better for you now. When I rushed over early this morning, the smoke was so thick I had to wear a gas mask.”
“My pyramid!” Anjou’ eyes bulged, red and bloodshot.
The black lava pyramid had stood for thousands of years in the jungles of the Americas, with rain only eroding its surface and edges, a testament to its sturdiness. But now, a massive crack split the top, exposing the sandstone core. It was hard to imagine what kind of impact could cause that, but the force must have been enormous—it had also collapsed part of the pyramid, scattering black lava stones around, making it difficult to reconstruct.
The elevator entered the long, dark tunnel that led to the Well of Oblivion. Anjou sat upright, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. He didn’t dare imagine the devastation there. The invader’s target had clearly been the Well of Oblivion, where each relic had cost vast sums of money and effort, including the Dragon Skeleton for which he had publicly clashed with the School Board.
All lost, just after one night’s sleep.
The elevator doors opened, and a wave of noise rushed in. Anjou was stunned for a moment. To those who knew, it was a visit to the ruins, but to those who didn’t, it seemed like they were entering a recording studio for an avant-garde band.
The vice principal turned on the lights. There was no avant-garde band—just a wild party. An alchemical music box played excitedly, Persian-style copper boxes intermittently spewed flames, and a silver-plated skull laughed at Anjou, its well-preserved teeth “clacking” as they snapped together. Without the alchemical field, these objects containing “living spirits” had all sprung to life, like a group of imps escaping from the depths of hell.
Anjou was in an extremely bad mood and kicked the silver-plated skull away. Clearly, this kick showed his years of effort—back in Cambridge, he had been one of the starting defenders of the soccer team.
The vice principal cried out in surprise and dove forward. Despite his growing belly, he managed to catch the skull mid-air with the skill of a rugby player.
“Don’t take your anger out on the collection.” The vice principal carefully placed the skull to the side. “Come, come, there’s a surprise.”
He led Anjou to the central metal altar, the most severely damaged area. The hard bronze surface was completely cracked, and congealed slag from melted metal was scattered everywhere—probably caused by some weapon that could cut through sharks and split pyramids, leaving countless marks across the ground. Walking on this altar felt like it could crumble at any moment.
With a magician’s flourish, the vice principal unveiled a black cloth, his eyebrows dancing. “Hey! Happy or not? Surprised or not? Sure, your fish is dead, your flowers have withered, and half your pyramid has collapsed… but your most treasured Dragon Skeleton is still here!”
The bronze Dragon Skeleton stood there quietly, intact, a cross-shaped skeleton exuding a martyr’s sacred aura… though someone had stuck a yellow sticky note to its forehead.
Anjou was stunned. Before coming down here, he had already prepared himself for the Dragon Skeleton being stolen. It was a sacred object coveted by hybrids all over the world, like a thief breaking into a cathedral and finding the Spear of Longinus—the spear that pierced Jesus. There was no reason not to take it, even if that wasn’t the thief’s original purpose. After all, who would take such great risks to infiltrate the Well of Oblivion if not for the Dragon Skeleton? Could it be that the thief had a sudden change of heart just before succeeding?
The vice principal removed the sticky note and handed it to Anjou. “Someone left us a message.”
The note had lazy, scrawled handwriting: “I suggest your college strengthen its security. If someone tries to steal it again, I might not be around next time.” There was no signature.
“So someone helped you keep your collection,” the vice principal said, patting Anjou on the shoulder. “It’s good news and bad news.”
“What do you mean?”
The vice principal pointed to the edge of the pool surrounding the altar, which was now completely dry. “This is the second largest alchemical field in the world powered by mercury solution. I’ve injected at least 1,200 tons of mercury here, but something with extreme heat seems to have evaporated all of it.”
Anjou was stunned. “I thought ours was the largest.”
“The largest one hasn’t been excavated yet. It’s in the tomb of China’s first emperor, Qin Shi Huang. Historical records say he carved a map of all of China in his tomb, using flowing mercury to represent water, which even rains down like mercury. This represents ‘circulation’ in ancient Chinese alchemy. Historians think it’s exaggerated, but anyone who’s studied alchemical fields understands that it’s a massive alchemical field, powered by mercury. It was too powerful, which is why those who opposed his tyranny never dug it up.” The vice principal sighed. “To instantly destroy my alchemical field, one would need the strength of a primeval dragon. Without a doubt, a primeval dragon was among the intruders, but they were stopped by someone else—meaning there was another being close to a primeval dragon in power. Maybe we can’t even call it ‘human.’” The vice principal raised an eyebrow. “Because very few hybrids can approach the level of a primeval dragon and damage the icehouse that severely. There might have been two dragons fighting here last night.”
“A dragon has awakened, and not just one, with power close to that of a primeval dragon. Even if the one who helped us was among them, we can’t be sure if they are friend or foe, right?” Anjou’s voice was low.
“Wrong. By your logic, all dragons are our enemies.”
Anjou nodded slowly.
“Don’t think too much about it. I’ll transfer the Dragon Skeleton to a new vault for safekeeping. The most pressing issue now is the investigation team. They sent out a notice this morning that despite the unexpected events, the hearing will go on as planned. They really can’t wait to bring you down, old friend,” the vice principal said.
Zhao Menghua sat blankly in the darkness, the metro rumbling loudly.
He had finally boarded this rusty train because he had nowhere else to go. On the platform, he had cried, yelled, and shivered behind a pillar—everything a desperate person would do, but no one paid him any attention. Not even any ghosts or monsters were willing to come out to scare him. Finally, he lay on the platform, panting, and remembered something a philosopher once said—that the terror of death lies not in pain but in eternal loneliness.
The train was empty, too, but rumbling forward. It was at least better than the platform. The train even skipped stations, the platforms brightly lit with passengers waiting, but it never slowed down. The passengers were calm, as if they hadn’t seen the train at all. Zhao Menghua tried shouting at the window, but the people outside continued reading, listening to music, and daydreaming. One mischievous child struck an Ultraman pose, though it seemed like he was just admiring his reflection in the glass door.
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