VOL.1 Chapter 2: The Secret Unit Assembles
11:30 PM, Temporary Command Center of the Sanxingdui Archaeological Site
An emergency assessment meeting had just drawn to a hurried close. The session lasted twenty minutes, with all specialists, supervisors and technical staff centering their discussion on two major anomalies: the simultaneous total failure of all equipment and faint subterranean resonance. They listed dozens of potential triggers, ranging from geological shifts and meteorological interference to electromagnetic disruption. In the end, they reached a unified official conclusion: short-term localized geomagnetic irregularities had disrupted signals from precision instruments, while the mild underground tremors were routine geological activity. The site posed no safety hazards or structural risks, and excavation work would resume at dawn the next day as scheduled.
The verdict was polished, compliant and safe, perfectly aligning with every rule of the official mortal system. It left no gaps, sparked no disputes and stirred no public panic once released to the outside world.
Peace prevailed on the surface. Reporters remained oblivious, and the public continued to view Sanxingdui merely as a fascinating relic of ancient civilization. No one suspected the uncanny disturbances that had unfolded deep within the site that night, much less the inter-realm crisis unfolding beneath its archaeological facade.
Yet every person who had sat through the meeting knew the night’s oddities could never be explained by mortal science.
The synchronized shutdown of all machinery defied all logic; the underground vibrations followed an unnatural, eerie rhythm; the abrupt site-wide temperature drop was utterly inexplicable. Every phenomenon broke established laws of geology, physics and meteorology—a set of anomalies with no rational earthly explanation whatsoever.
When the meeting adjourned, staff filed out one after another, filling the air with quiet murmurs of confusion and unease. The command center’s lights burned bright, yet the atmosphere grew heavier and more stifling by the minute, an invisible weight pressing down over the entire building.
While the mortal team wrapped up procedures, calmed frayed nerves and compiled official reports, a matte black official sedan glided silently through the site’s closed exclusive access passage.
The vehicle bore the highest-level national special archaeological permit, complete with full filings, top-tier clearance and unrestricted access to every protected ancient ruin across the country. Its body was plain and unmarked, blending seamlessly into the night, unremarkable enough to draw no second glance from anyone who passed by.
The car pulled smoothly into a designated parking bay outside the inspection building, and its engine died without a sound, as if it had never arrived at all.
The door swung open, and Jam stepped out first.
Standing one hundred and eighty-eight centimeters tall, he held a rigid, disciplined posture. His tailored black uniform coat clung neatly to his frame, and every small movement—closing the door, scanning the surrounding area—carried the sharp efficiency and vigilance forged by years of high-risk missions. His features were young yet grave, edged with a cold, cutting gaze that radiated the unshakable authority of a top field operative.
As captain of the Ruin Guardian Unit, codenamed Mountain God King, Jam oversaw the team’s overall coordination, tactical planning, official authority liaison and crisis judgment. He served as the unit’s strategic mind and primary line of defense. For decades, he had traveled to high-risk ruins nationwide to contain seal ruptures and Void incursions. Calm, decisive and ruthless when necessary, he always prioritized the greater good above personal emotion.
He lifted his eyes to the stagnant rain clouds hanging over the site, a flicker of gravity crossing his face as he murmured his judgment.
“Man-made seal suppression, fueled by Void energy. This is not natural decay—an outside force has deliberately stirred the anchor.”
One by one, four others stepped out behind him. None spoke a word as they fell into silent formation, unified in their sharp, guarded aura, each ready to fulfill their distinct roles.
Sage stepped forward next. Slender and cool-featured, her long hair tied back simply, her eyes sharp enough to catch faint traces overlooked by everyone else. As the unit’s runic decipherer, codenamed River God, she specialized in Xia Dynasty ancient seal script, binding arrays and the lost logic of ancient tribes. She was the only member capable of unraveling the hidden secrets of primeval seals, disassembling array frameworks and decoding fragmented runic ciphertexts.
She tilted her head toward the rain curtain, brushing her fingertips against the faint invisible energy drifting through the air, her voice soft yet steady.
“The runic fluctuations follow a deliberate pattern. This summoning array belongs to the Fallen Ancient Realm Wardens, precisely calibrated to target weak points along the secondary Wood Ruin Seal.”
Banbandin followed close behind, lean and sharp, his palms permanently lined with calluses. His bearing carried the meticulous precision of a master technician. As the unit’s mechanical and structural core, he mastered stratigraphic mapping, ancient trap disarmament, precision equipment modification and boundary array coordinate calculation. No mechanical fault, structural flaw or underground mechanism could escape his scrutiny.
He shook a portable modified terminal in his hand; faint light glowed from its screen, scrolling dense streams of Void energy data.
“Activity within the one-hundred-and-eighty-meter underground cavern has surged sixfold. Fractures in the bedrock are expanding at an accelerating rate, and the outer protective layer of the seal is suffering structural fatigue.”
Last to exit was Bangbangtu, broad-shouldered, stocky and deeply tanned, his eyes as piercing as an eagle’s, exuding the rugged aura of years spent traversing untamed wilds. As the unit’s wilderness and perimeter specialist, he excelled at forbidden zone survival, complex terrain navigation, external perimeter patrol and defense against Void entity ambushes. Blessed with an almost animalistic instinct for danger, he formed the unit’s impenetrable outer line of defense.
His gaze snapped sharply toward the wooded western hills, his expression turning icy.
“Hidden presences lurk on the perimeter. Their Void energy signature is heavily muted, masked perfectly to evade mortal detection equipment—recon scouts belonging to the Orb Reavers.”
Finally, Daipithy stepped out of the formation and took his place at the rear of the group. Unlike the other four, who radiated sharp, unyielding intensity, his aura was quiet and restrained, indistinguishable from an ordinary junior field worker. Unassuming and harmless-seeming, he was nonetheless the unit’s sole bloodline core and array focal point.
The five-person Ruin Guardian Unit was fully assembled.
Publicly, they operated as a temporary special research task force sanctioned by the National Institute of Archaeology, fully licensed, regulated and assigned clear official duties to investigate deep-seated anomalies and trace cultural relic origins at Sanxingdui. They blended flawlessly into the mortal archaeological system, their true identities never suspected by outsiders.
In secret, they were the last living Ruin Guardians, the final inheritors of a three-thousand-year-old civilization’s protection order, the last barrier separating the mortal realm from the Void.
The five moved into a private dedicated inspection chamber. Jam twisted the lock shut behind them, sealed all external windows, audio recording devices and camera feeds, and activated layered physical shielding and spirit concealment arrays to block all outside surveillance entirely.
Harsh white light filled the silent, taut room, not a single extraneous sound breaking the tension.
Jam walked over to the holographic projection table and tapped the control panel. Instantly, full-site anomaly data from that night, records of the mass equipment failure and subterranean resonance waveforms materialized in crisp detail, laying every hidden irregularity bare before them.
“Discard all official mortal conclusions,” Jam stated flatly, his tone unadorned and unwavering. “There were no geomagnetic disturbances or natural geological shifts tonight. Every machine collapse, underground tremor and temperature drop stems from raw Void Core Anchor energy leaking upward and the outer seal array fraying.”
Sage pulled up high-resolution captured imagery of faint fragmented runic light patterns, countless shadowy thin lines shifting, splicing and rearranging across the screen.
“After three thousand years of static dormancy, the seal has begun active breathing for the first time. The Void Rift, once fully sealed shut, now seeps tiny traces of otherworldly power. This is not a natural process of erosion—it is a precise, forced disruption from an outside source.”
Banbandin pulled up a three-dimensional stratigraphic model, with deep red hazard zones covering the entire underground cavern structure.
“The load-bearing capacity of the outer seal continues to plummet. At the current rate of deterioration, the surface barrier will fail completely within seven days.”
Bangbangtu crossed his arms, his gaze cold and uncompromising.
“This cannot be dismissed as a single natural anomaly. Someone is manipulating events from the shadows. The Orb Reavers’ main force has arrived within Sanxingdui’s territory, with advance recon teams infiltrating early to agitate the seal’s energy and test our limits and strength.”
The atmosphere in the chamber sank to a crushing weight at his words.
Warmth lingered in Daipithy’s palm, his golden bloodline runes thrumming faintly, maintaining a constant link to the underground spiritual energy veins as he sensed the endless ancient pulse and roiling darkness far below. He lifted his gaze to the rest of the team, his voice low and steady.
“I witnessed the spectral vision of the ancient tribesmen sealing the ruin. This entire site was purpose-built as a secondary containment cage. Tonight, the rift stirs, and the darkness rages—this cage can no longer hold what lies trapped beneath.”
Jam’s sharp eyes swept across the group as he quickly finalized battle protocols and assigned each member’s responsibilities.
“Effective immediately, all personnel enter maximum alert status. Publicly, we maintain routine archaeological operations to mislead both civilians and our enemies. Privately, we deploy layered defensive measures. Sage, you will decode fragmented runes and monitor seal fluctuations. Banbandin, modify survey equipment and reinforce the outer barrier arrays. Bangbangtu, conduct full-site perimeter patrols and eliminate Void scouts. I will liaise with official authorities and control the overall operation’s pace. Daipithy, you will anchor the focal point and track movements of the primordial Void Core Anchor energy.”
The five moved in perfect, instinctive sync, years of covert teamwork ingrained into every reflex.
Meanwhile, deep within the western hills’ woodland.
Kaelor perched atop a treetop, three shadow figures kneeling single file behind him, their faint Void energy carefully contained to avoid detection.
“Captain, the Ruin Guardian Unit has fully assembled. They have activated their concealment array, and their energy signatures are locked in place,” one shadow operative whispered in a low report. “The Wood Ruin Seal’s weakening has reached our threshold; we may initiate the next phase of erosion at any time.”
Kaelor stared toward the brightly lit inspection building far in the distance, his eyes shadowed with three millennia of hatred and obsession.
“There is no rush. After three thousand years of hiding, a few more days mean nothing. We test first, wear them down second, and strike to claim what we want last. Shatter their defenses, drain their patience, then seize fragments of the Wood Ruin Void Core Anchor to force the collapse of the Central Plains’ primordial seal core.”
“We obey your will.”
The shadow figures melted silently back into the forest undergrowth. A full network of Void scouts spread out, wrapping the entire Sanxingdui archaeological site in an invisible shroud.
The rest of the world slumbered under the illusion of peace and stability. No one knew that a realm-defining struggle for humanity’s survival had officially begun amid Sanxingdui’s endless rainy night, marking the opening of the final act.