Chapter 179: Spiral Marks in the Pipe Gallery
The stagnant water in the pipe gallery washed over his boots. The icy, foul water, carrying fine silt, made every step feel heavy and sluggish, accompanied by a dull splashing sound.
The beam of his headlamp was the only source of light in this pitch-black darkness. The narrow passage stretched infinitely in both directions. Massive main water supply pipes ran horizontally overhead, their walls coated with a layer of icy condensation. Droplets fell into the stagnant water with a steady, rhythmic drip, drip, echoing endlessly in the enclosed space.
Lin Yan moved forward slowly, his body hunched over. The spectrum analyzer hung from his chest, its screen displaying faint dots of light hovering just above the baseline. Those were the psychic spores—thin and scattered, like pollen floating in water. An ordinary cultivator's perception would easily overlook them. Only the fissure that spanned his Sea of Consciousness could capture this wisp of same-origin chill from the abyssal supreme ruler.
The squad had split up, with each person responsible for a branch pipe gallery. They had agreed to report their positions to the military police guarding the manhole every ten minutes.
"East District Branch Corridor No. 3. Spore concentration is stable, slowly rising," Lin Yan reported in a low voice into the communicator at his collar. He immediately turned off the transmission to prevent the sound from echoing excessively in the sealed pipe and disturbing whatever was lurking within.
The air in the pipe gallery grew increasingly frigid. It wasn't the intense corrosive breath of the underground rift; rather, it was a coldness that seeped into the marrow of one's bones. It carried no foul stench, yet it caused the blood and qi in his limbs to slowly stiffen.
After walking about 120 meters forward, a T-junction appeared ahead. Here, the main pipe branched into two separate routes, leading to the northern and southern residential areas of the East District.
The instant he reached the junction, the dots of light on the spectrum analyzer suddenly multiplied, and the values spiked dramatically.
The spore concentration here had surged several times over.
Lin Yan stopped in his tracks, holding his breath. The beam of his headlamp slowly swept across the surrounding pipe walls.
The stagnant water formed a small whirlpool at the junction. Countless invisible psychic spores, seemingly drawn by an invisible gravitational force, swirled and gathered here like a hidden reservoir.
He slowly lowered the light, letting it fall on the side wall of the massive water pipe.
The moment the light swept across it, Lin Yan's breath caught in his throat.
The gray-black anti-corrosion outer wall of the pipe was densely covered with miniature spiral marks.
They were identical to the patterns on the edge of the wasteland rift and the buoy wreckage, merely scaled down significantly. Each spiral was only the size of a fingernail, layered and crammed together, spreading along the curvature of the pipe and extending deeper into the bastion in the direction of the water flow. The patterns were shallow and non-reflective; if not illuminated by the headlamp at an angle, they would have blended seamlessly with the grime on the pipe wall, easily missed at a glance.
They had not been carved by external force.
The marks seemed to be slowly seeping out from within the pipe wall itself. Neither the metal nor the anti-corrosion coating was damaged, yet the spiral patterns materialized out of thin air on the surface. A faint chill continuously radiated outward from the patterns, ceaselessly releasing spores.
This was a spore dispersion node within the pipe gallery.
The abyssal supreme ruler hadn't dispatched priests or scaled beasts to infiltrate the city. Separated by layers of rock strata, it had planted countless such tiny markers within the subterranean pipeline network. The spiral patterns served as incubators for the spores, continuously breeding and releasing psychic particles, spreading them throughout the entire bastion via the water and air currents along the pipe network.
Lin Yan slowly raised his hand, hovering it a dozen centimeters away from the pipe wall, not daring to touch it.
Merely being near it caused the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness to tremble uncontrollably. That familiar, vast, and indifferent aura was transmitted through the countless layers of faint spores. There was no impact, no illusions, just a pure "proof of existence." It had marked the blood vessels of this city. The water supply pipelines that humanity relied on for survival had been conscripted into channels for sowing seeds.
He took out his portable recorder, increased the sensitivity, and slowly rotated the lens to capture the成片 (clusters) of spiral marks on the pipe wall. Then, he took out a sealed sampling tube and carefully collected a small tube of stagnant water from the junction. The water was teeming with massive amounts of spores, completely invisible to the naked eye; only the spectrum analyzer could prove their existence.
"This is a spore convergence node. T-junction pipes. Massive amounts of miniature spiral marks on the pipe wall. Spores are dispersing along the north and south branch routes," Lin Yan reconnected the communicator, reporting the coordinates in a hushed voice. "Recommend immediately sealing off the entrance to this branch corridor. Do not rashly send personnel in for close-quarters eradication."
Scholar Su's steady voice came through the communicator: "Received. Maintain position and stand guard. Do not continue deeper into the branch. Our isolation squad and oscillation engineers will arrive at the maintenance shaft shortly. Remember, do not actively perceive the marks for extended periods. It can lock onto the position of your Sea of Consciousness through the spores."
The moment the words were spoken, Lin Yan's brow suddenly tightened.
The countless spores that had originally been floating aimlessly in the air suddenly shifted direction slightly, all turning toward him.
They had merely been drifting and reproducing without purpose, but now, it was as if they had been synchronously mobilized by a signal.
Using the spore network of this spiral node, the consciousness from the abyssal depths had perceived him.
Unlike the tailing on the wasteland, this time the distance was closer, the space was enclosed, and he had nowhere to retreat.
An endless sense of indifference descended upon him. Once again, there was no explosive attack, no surging illusion tide. Yet, Lin Yan could clearly feel countless fine psychic threads extending from the thousands of spiral patterns on the pipe wall, gently wrapping around and probing the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness.
[A suitable vessel is right within the walls.]
The silent intent sank into his consciousness once again, clearer than the last time.
It was evaluating, measuring the capacity of this fissure. It knew he was here, entirely alone, situated at the center of the spore network it had laid. The enclosed pipe gallery was the perfect cage.
Lin Yan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to retract his outward-spreading perception. He tightly gathered his Sea of Consciousness, ceasing any resonance with the spores. Step by step, he slowly backed away, keeping his back to the spiral-marked pipe wall, retreating toward the maintenance shaft he had come from.
The spores did not chase him. They remained clustered near the T-junction, but those dense, tiny spiral patterns seemed to silently "stare" at his departing silhouette in the darkness.
He didn't dare to run. Intense emotional fluctuations would cause the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness to open further, which would be equivalent to voluntarily opening the door to it. He could only stabilize his breathing, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm of retreat.
The short, hundred-plus-meter return journey felt exceptionally long. The only sounds were the dripping of stagnant water, his own heavy heartbeat, and the continuous, faint hum of the spectrum analyzer.
Only when Lin Yan climbed back up the maintenance shaft, emerged onto the surface, and felt the sunlight on his face did the icy layer of perception enveloping his consciousness slowly fade away. Seeing Scholar Su and the others hurrying over, he handed over the recorder and the water sample. His voice was slightly hoarse: "T-junction node. Clusters of miniature spiral marks. Spores are dispersing from here in two directions. This isn't the only node; there should be more in the pipe network."
Scholar Su reviewed the footage transmitted from the recorder, zooming in on the dense small spirals on the pipe wall. His expression sank bit by bit. Several researchers beside him, looking at the screen, felt a chill run down their spines.
"We previously thought the spores were permeating aimlessly along the groundwater veins. Now we understand," Scholar Su said, tapping the screen. "It had pre-arranged a series of fixed nodes within the pipeline network. The spiral marks are stable generators. As long as the nodes exist, spores will be continuously produced. Even if we clear this one, the other nodes will continue to spread them."
"Can we use low-intensity directional oscillation to destroy this patch of spiral marks?" the engineering squad leader asked.
"The risk is extremely high," Scholar Su shook his head. "If the oscillation intensity is even slightly miscalculated, the pipes will rupture directly, paralyzing the entire East District's water supply. Furthermore, once we take action against the nodes, it is equivalent to openly declaring to it that we have found the network it buried within the city. Who knows if it will immediately detonate all the spores in this area, causing a massive, short-term loss of control through citizen parasitism?"
Everyone fell into silence.
The wasteland outside the city was the frontal battlefield, with beast tides, priests, and blockade arrays—open and direct combat. But within the city was an invisible shadow war. The enemy hid within the pipelines of the city's foundation, relying on countless spores and spiral nodes to slowly erode. It was in no rush to harvest; it was merely expanding the base of parasitism bit by bit, waiting for the perfect moment to trigger everything.
Lin Yan stood by the well, looking down into the deep, pitch-black maintenance shaft.
He had just walked out of that darkness, knowing full well that the bastion's massive subterranean pipe network had already been transformed into a sprawling spiderweb. The abyssal supreme ruler sat at the center of the web, and the millions of ordinary people in the city were all prey waiting to be marked on the net.
And he, because of this fissure in his Sea of Consciousness, was the one it was paying special attention to.
Scholar Su turned his head to look at Lin Yan, seeing the exhaustion that could not be concealed in his eyes: "Today's exploration ends here. Return to the general hospital for a Sea of Consciousness re-examination first. Subsequent node inspections will be handled by other perception cultivators in rotating shifts. You are temporarily removed from pipe gallery duties."
Lin Yan did not argue.
That brief moment of consciousness contact just now had added another lingering, dull ache to the fissure, heavily draining his origin. He knew his own limits.
The sunset slowly climbed onto the bastion's dome. The city remained as ordinary as ever. Residents walked the streets, youths trained at the academy as usual, and defense soldiers took their shifts. The vast majority of people still didn't know that the dark pipe galleries crisscrossing beneath their feet were already crawling with the silent marks of the alien race.
In this long war of attrition, the battlefield was no longer just the wasteland rift. Within the bastion, darkness had already taken root.
End of Chapter.
The beam of his headlamp was the only source of light in this pitch-black darkness. The narrow passage stretched infinitely in both directions. Massive main water supply pipes ran horizontally overhead, their walls coated with a layer of icy condensation. Droplets fell into the stagnant water with a steady, rhythmic drip, drip, echoing endlessly in the enclosed space.
Lin Yan moved forward slowly, his body hunched over. The spectrum analyzer hung from his chest, its screen displaying faint dots of light hovering just above the baseline. Those were the psychic spores—thin and scattered, like pollen floating in water. An ordinary cultivator's perception would easily overlook them. Only the fissure that spanned his Sea of Consciousness could capture this wisp of same-origin chill from the abyssal supreme ruler.
The squad had split up, with each person responsible for a branch pipe gallery. They had agreed to report their positions to the military police guarding the manhole every ten minutes.
"East District Branch Corridor No. 3. Spore concentration is stable, slowly rising," Lin Yan reported in a low voice into the communicator at his collar. He immediately turned off the transmission to prevent the sound from echoing excessively in the sealed pipe and disturbing whatever was lurking within.
The air in the pipe gallery grew increasingly frigid. It wasn't the intense corrosive breath of the underground rift; rather, it was a coldness that seeped into the marrow of one's bones. It carried no foul stench, yet it caused the blood and qi in his limbs to slowly stiffen.
After walking about 120 meters forward, a T-junction appeared ahead. Here, the main pipe branched into two separate routes, leading to the northern and southern residential areas of the East District.
The instant he reached the junction, the dots of light on the spectrum analyzer suddenly multiplied, and the values spiked dramatically.
The spore concentration here had surged several times over.
Lin Yan stopped in his tracks, holding his breath. The beam of his headlamp slowly swept across the surrounding pipe walls.
The stagnant water formed a small whirlpool at the junction. Countless invisible psychic spores, seemingly drawn by an invisible gravitational force, swirled and gathered here like a hidden reservoir.
He slowly lowered the light, letting it fall on the side wall of the massive water pipe.
The moment the light swept across it, Lin Yan's breath caught in his throat.
The gray-black anti-corrosion outer wall of the pipe was densely covered with miniature spiral marks.
They were identical to the patterns on the edge of the wasteland rift and the buoy wreckage, merely scaled down significantly. Each spiral was only the size of a fingernail, layered and crammed together, spreading along the curvature of the pipe and extending deeper into the bastion in the direction of the water flow. The patterns were shallow and non-reflective; if not illuminated by the headlamp at an angle, they would have blended seamlessly with the grime on the pipe wall, easily missed at a glance.
They had not been carved by external force.
The marks seemed to be slowly seeping out from within the pipe wall itself. Neither the metal nor the anti-corrosion coating was damaged, yet the spiral patterns materialized out of thin air on the surface. A faint chill continuously radiated outward from the patterns, ceaselessly releasing spores.
This was a spore dispersion node within the pipe gallery.
The abyssal supreme ruler hadn't dispatched priests or scaled beasts to infiltrate the city. Separated by layers of rock strata, it had planted countless such tiny markers within the subterranean pipeline network. The spiral patterns served as incubators for the spores, continuously breeding and releasing psychic particles, spreading them throughout the entire bastion via the water and air currents along the pipe network.
Lin Yan slowly raised his hand, hovering it a dozen centimeters away from the pipe wall, not daring to touch it.
Merely being near it caused the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness to tremble uncontrollably. That familiar, vast, and indifferent aura was transmitted through the countless layers of faint spores. There was no impact, no illusions, just a pure "proof of existence." It had marked the blood vessels of this city. The water supply pipelines that humanity relied on for survival had been conscripted into channels for sowing seeds.
He took out his portable recorder, increased the sensitivity, and slowly rotated the lens to capture the成片 (clusters) of spiral marks on the pipe wall. Then, he took out a sealed sampling tube and carefully collected a small tube of stagnant water from the junction. The water was teeming with massive amounts of spores, completely invisible to the naked eye; only the spectrum analyzer could prove their existence.
"This is a spore convergence node. T-junction pipes. Massive amounts of miniature spiral marks on the pipe wall. Spores are dispersing along the north and south branch routes," Lin Yan reconnected the communicator, reporting the coordinates in a hushed voice. "Recommend immediately sealing off the entrance to this branch corridor. Do not rashly send personnel in for close-quarters eradication."
Scholar Su's steady voice came through the communicator: "Received. Maintain position and stand guard. Do not continue deeper into the branch. Our isolation squad and oscillation engineers will arrive at the maintenance shaft shortly. Remember, do not actively perceive the marks for extended periods. It can lock onto the position of your Sea of Consciousness through the spores."
The moment the words were spoken, Lin Yan's brow suddenly tightened.
The countless spores that had originally been floating aimlessly in the air suddenly shifted direction slightly, all turning toward him.
They had merely been drifting and reproducing without purpose, but now, it was as if they had been synchronously mobilized by a signal.
Using the spore network of this spiral node, the consciousness from the abyssal depths had perceived him.
Unlike the tailing on the wasteland, this time the distance was closer, the space was enclosed, and he had nowhere to retreat.
An endless sense of indifference descended upon him. Once again, there was no explosive attack, no surging illusion tide. Yet, Lin Yan could clearly feel countless fine psychic threads extending from the thousands of spiral patterns on the pipe wall, gently wrapping around and probing the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness.
[A suitable vessel is right within the walls.]
The silent intent sank into his consciousness once again, clearer than the last time.
It was evaluating, measuring the capacity of this fissure. It knew he was here, entirely alone, situated at the center of the spore network it had laid. The enclosed pipe gallery was the perfect cage.
Lin Yan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to retract his outward-spreading perception. He tightly gathered his Sea of Consciousness, ceasing any resonance with the spores. Step by step, he slowly backed away, keeping his back to the spiral-marked pipe wall, retreating toward the maintenance shaft he had come from.
The spores did not chase him. They remained clustered near the T-junction, but those dense, tiny spiral patterns seemed to silently "stare" at his departing silhouette in the darkness.
He didn't dare to run. Intense emotional fluctuations would cause the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness to open further, which would be equivalent to voluntarily opening the door to it. He could only stabilize his breathing, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm of retreat.
The short, hundred-plus-meter return journey felt exceptionally long. The only sounds were the dripping of stagnant water, his own heavy heartbeat, and the continuous, faint hum of the spectrum analyzer.
Only when Lin Yan climbed back up the maintenance shaft, emerged onto the surface, and felt the sunlight on his face did the icy layer of perception enveloping his consciousness slowly fade away. Seeing Scholar Su and the others hurrying over, he handed over the recorder and the water sample. His voice was slightly hoarse: "T-junction node. Clusters of miniature spiral marks. Spores are dispersing from here in two directions. This isn't the only node; there should be more in the pipe network."
Scholar Su reviewed the footage transmitted from the recorder, zooming in on the dense small spirals on the pipe wall. His expression sank bit by bit. Several researchers beside him, looking at the screen, felt a chill run down their spines.
"We previously thought the spores were permeating aimlessly along the groundwater veins. Now we understand," Scholar Su said, tapping the screen. "It had pre-arranged a series of fixed nodes within the pipeline network. The spiral marks are stable generators. As long as the nodes exist, spores will be continuously produced. Even if we clear this one, the other nodes will continue to spread them."
"Can we use low-intensity directional oscillation to destroy this patch of spiral marks?" the engineering squad leader asked.
"The risk is extremely high," Scholar Su shook his head. "If the oscillation intensity is even slightly miscalculated, the pipes will rupture directly, paralyzing the entire East District's water supply. Furthermore, once we take action against the nodes, it is equivalent to openly declaring to it that we have found the network it buried within the city. Who knows if it will immediately detonate all the spores in this area, causing a massive, short-term loss of control through citizen parasitism?"
Everyone fell into silence.
The wasteland outside the city was the frontal battlefield, with beast tides, priests, and blockade arrays—open and direct combat. But within the city was an invisible shadow war. The enemy hid within the pipelines of the city's foundation, relying on countless spores and spiral nodes to slowly erode. It was in no rush to harvest; it was merely expanding the base of parasitism bit by bit, waiting for the perfect moment to trigger everything.
Lin Yan stood by the well, looking down into the deep, pitch-black maintenance shaft.
He had just walked out of that darkness, knowing full well that the bastion's massive subterranean pipe network had already been transformed into a sprawling spiderweb. The abyssal supreme ruler sat at the center of the web, and the millions of ordinary people in the city were all prey waiting to be marked on the net.
And he, because of this fissure in his Sea of Consciousness, was the one it was paying special attention to.
Scholar Su turned his head to look at Lin Yan, seeing the exhaustion that could not be concealed in his eyes: "Today's exploration ends here. Return to the general hospital for a Sea of Consciousness re-examination first. Subsequent node inspections will be handled by other perception cultivators in rotating shifts. You are temporarily removed from pipe gallery duties."
Lin Yan did not argue.
That brief moment of consciousness contact just now had added another lingering, dull ache to the fissure, heavily draining his origin. He knew his own limits.
The sunset slowly climbed onto the bastion's dome. The city remained as ordinary as ever. Residents walked the streets, youths trained at the academy as usual, and defense soldiers took their shifts. The vast majority of people still didn't know that the dark pipe galleries crisscrossing beneath their feet were already crawling with the silent marks of the alien race.
In this long war of attrition, the battlefield was no longer just the wasteland rift. Within the bastion, darkness had already taken root.
End of Chapter.