Chapter 883: Subway Station

In the depths of the emerald pupils, the yellow glow remained, but it was no longer the lazy, teasing glimmer of before; it had contracted into two tiny bright points.

The composed smile that had hung at the corner of the mouth before had completely vanished, replaced by an extremely solemn expression.

Huo Huo fixed that expression and stared intently at the Divination Office Xiao Bu Zhe before her.

Qingque felt a chill run down the back of the neck under that stare.

The figure slowly rose from the crouching position, the knees trembling slightly beneath the hem of the skirt, not from fear but because the squat had been held too long.

Probably, after standing she brushed the dust off her skirt, then brushed the pollen from her hands, and with as natural an expression as possible opened her mouth toward Huo Huo and silently said, "Wh—at—'s—up?"

Huo Huo clearly understood her lip movements.

Huo Huo simply did not reply.

Huo Huo continued to stare at Qingque, the two dark‑gold specks deep within the pupils rotating slowly, as if re‑examining the person before her.

"What did I just see?"

Can't quite recall.

The massive tree, the gray‑white long‑haired general standing in the center of the Bubbles, and the phantom of the Patrol Hunt Star God spanning half the sky—all these images began to blur the instant Huo Huo was ejected from the Memory space, as if something deliberately erased them from her Memory, leaving only a lingering afterimage, a silhouette that pressed on her so heavily she could barely breathe.

But there was one thing she remembered perfectly.

In the Memory space she simultaneously sensed two forces, Abundance and Patrol Hunt.

They coexisted, intertwining, each winding around the other, rooted deep within the same person's consciousness.

The aura of the Abundance emissary and the aura of the Patrol Hunt emissary emanated from the same body.

The person now stood before her, covered in wilted flowers, gray‑white hair tangled over the shoulders, staring with those dim, colorless emerald‑amber eyes, silently mouthing, "Miss Huo Huo, are you alright? Do you need to sit down and rest? You look pale."

Huan Long fell silent for a moment.

A Patrol Hunt emissary who had fallen into a demonic Yin body.

Standing before her.

Alive!

Perspective shift.

The steps stretched beneath their feet, each footfall producing a crisp clack that echoed through the narrow passage, layering into reverberations.

Dark‑green light strips ran along the wall corners beside the steps, the illumination so weak it resembled a row of dying nightlights, barely lighting the edges of the steps, any further inch remaining dark.

After climbing roughly thirty steps, Heimu noticed the walls on either side begin to change, transitioning from rough natural rock to artificially laid ceramic tiles, the off‑white rectangular tiles emerging from the darkness one after another, their surfaces spotless.

The arched ceiling above also shifted from rock strata to a white‑painted cement structure, with support columns protruding from the walls at intervals, each column bearing a faded circuit diagram sticker, its corner curled up slightly.

"It really is a subway station."

Heimu muttered, their boot heel catching on the final step before stepping onto the platform tiles.

The floor tiles were dark gray, their surface etched with fine anti‑slip patterns that glimmered coldly under the verdant lighting.

The platform was spacious enough to accommodate three or four rows of people side by side; the arched ceiling above held several daylight tubes, none lit, while all illumination came from emergency light strips on the walls, a ghostly green glow identical to the color at the tip of Ke Lai Yin's Tail.

Along the edge of the platform stood a row of out‑of‑service automatic ticket machines, their screens dark and the coin slots coated with a thin layer of dust.

On the opposite wall hung a massive circuit diagram board, densely marked with station names, yet the names were blurred as if something had deliberately smudged them.

"This place—"

Kesi Mo's voice came from beneath the helmet, the electronic echo reverberating in the cavernous subway station, "—still appears to be in operation."

Heimu followed her gaze.

The indicator light on the turnstile beside the ticket machines glowed, showing a green arrow permitting passage, the arrow blinking alternately, as if someone had just swiped a card but not yet passed through.

At that moment, a low rumble echoed from deep within the tunnel.

It sounded like thunder rolling underground, quickly growing louder and nearer, the rails trembling slightly, the dust on the platform tiles lifting in tiny hops.

A white flash pierced the darkness at the tunnel mouth, followed by the sharp screech of metal wheels grinding the rails, the air violently churned, a hot gust scented with engine oil rushing forward.

The train arrived.

The carriage was silver‑gray, a dark‑blue waistline running along its side, its headlamp dazzlingly bright.

The light spilling from the windows was warm yellow, forming a stark contrast with the platform's ghostly green glow.

The train decelerated slowly, emitting a long, resonant hissing brake‑release sound, then came to a steady stop at the platform edge.

The doors, aligned with the few of them, paused briefly, then, accompanied by a crisp chime, slid open outward from the center.

Warm yellow light poured from the carriage, bathing the dark‑gray platform tiles and painting a bright rectangle on the floor.

The carriage interior featured warm‑toned wooden décor, deep‑brown cushioned seats with slightly reclined backs, and a vintage brass‑colored luggage rack overhead.

The air vent above the windows quietly exhaled a mildly warm breeze, while a pot of green ivy in the carriage corner displayed leaves that shone with vivid green.

The entire carriage was empty, its quiet warmth reminiscent of an afternoon lounge.

"This—"

Kesi Mo stood in place, the warm orange pattern on the visor flashing briefly, then could say no more.

Ying took two steps forward, positioning herself directly in front of the doors; Ying's gray‑purple eyes swiftly scanned the carriage interior—under the seats, above the luggage rack, the transitional doors between cars—every possible blind spot passing through the gaze.

Then Ying turned her head aside and, in concise words, gave her assessment: "No traps. At least none within visual range."

"But there's no need to rush up."

Heimu pushed up the brim of the Witch Hat, clasped their hands to their chest, and their dark‑purple eyes slowly swept across the entire platform.

"The train won't depart immediately; Ke Lai Yin just said this area has been unlocked. This car is parked here, most likely waiting for us, it won't leave. Let's inspect the platform first, see if there are any other clues."

Ying nodded, already moving.

Ying walked right along the platform edge, the Foot‑long dagger in the left hand, its sheath staying a consistent inch above the tiles.

Kesi Mo walked left, the armored thrust wings glinting cold‑blue under the platform's green light, each step measured precisely, as if gauging the platform's length with the stride.