By morning, the story had already escaped containment.
A live-stream from a rooftop phone showed Lin Feng emerging through smoke, Qian Juxiao in his arms, Xu Shanyue at his side.
No words.
Just proof.
Proof that the fire had been real. That someone had tried to kill them. That power wasn't just corrupt—it was afraid.
City Hall – Emergency Media Briefing
Luo Zixuan stepped up to the podium, tailored and calm.
"An unfortunate electrical fire," he said. "A tragic coincidence during an unauthorized incursion."
He smiled thinly.
"But rest assured, we will investigate any irregularities."
The press erupted with questions.
"Why was the fire suppression system offline?"
"Why did Xu Shanyue—Crimson Circle—arrive at the same exit point?"
"Is Lin Feng under arrest or protection?"
Luo didn't blink.
He simply walked away.
Behind him, Greycoat whispered, "You're losing the middle."
Luo's voice was steel. "Then we stop playing in the middle."
Crimson Circle Safehouse
Lin Feng leaned against a cold brick wall, eyes half-lidded. Burns wrapped. Voice low.
Su Qingyue stared at him.
"You really weren't going to stop, were you?"
He didn't answer.
Across the room, Xu Shanyue spoke instead.
"You've become something dangerous, Lin Feng."
"Only to those who burn people alive," he said.
"Luo will escalate," she warned. "You've taken his power, but not his teeth."
Lin Feng's gaze didn't waver.
"Then I break his jaw next."
Xu studied him. Something flickered behind her calm.
Not fear.
Respect.
And something else.
Midnight Broadcast – Anonymous Feed
A video appeared.
Footage from within the tunnel blaze.
Thermal signatures.
Fire suppression overrides deactivated manually.
A voiceover:
"They tried to make ghosts out of the living.
But ghosts remember.
And this one has friends."
By dawn, the city's walls were covered with graffiti:
"WE BURNED AND SURVIVED."
"THE GHOST WALKS."
"REMEMBER THE TUNNELS."
Silver Circle Boardroom – Private Crisis
"This isn't just about Lin Feng anymore," one director hissed. "We're becoming symbols of the wrong side of history."
Luo Zixuan said nothing.
Just stared at a black-and-white photo on the wall—a portrait of his father, the founder of the Circle.
"Then we make him history first," Luo whispered.