Chapter Sixty: The Gathering

Apartment in Setagaya Ward. Junxia Kinami issued imperious commands as she had Tianxing Zhao carry bags piled high upon his back. Turning away, a playful curve crept to her lips—she would, of course, never tell him delivery was an option.

Inside the cramped elevator, Tianxing Zhao sensed something amiss. He lifted his head to glance at the camera, but the elevator gave him no chance to ponder further, gliding quickly and smoothly to the floor where Junxia Kinami lived.

Just as Junxia Kinami stepped out, Tianxing Zhao’s expression changed. He reached out, grabbing the hem of her coat. About to protest, she was silenced by his hand over her mouth. Startled, a thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. Could it be that after a whole day of shopping, the man still harbored some animal vigor?

But Zhao’s next words dispelled those blush-inducing notions. “Someone’s been here,” he muttered, his tone shifting to alertness as he slipped into a defensive posture and stepped cautiously from the elevator. The sensor hidden behind his ear, nestled beneath his hair, should have responded as soon as they were within ten meters of Junxia’s apartment. Yet, even after the elevator doors opened, nothing—no signal at all. There was only one explanation: someone had sabotaged his surveillance devices.

“Could it be a thief?” Junxia whispered nervously.

Zhao did not answer. Unless their visitor was some legendary pirate king, no ordinary thief could have bypassed his micro-alarms so easily.

Junxia held the elevator open, anxiety mingling with curiosity. What could have disturbed Zhao’s composure so drastically?

She soon had her answer. As Zhao, having just taken the smart key from her, entered the apartment, it was as if he’d stepped into a cage with a wild beast. The sound of a fierce struggle erupted, drawing a cry from Junxia.

Moments later, a large man came hurtling out. Zhao emerged from behind the door, brandishing a fruit knife. As he was about to strike, a glance at Junxia softened his hand, and the blade veered, burying itself in the intruder’s shoulder.

Zhao Tianxing was not a cold-blooded man. For an ordinary burglar, he’d simply recover the stolen goods and let him go. But this man, lying in ambush at the door, was no common criminal. Faint traces of a unique, metallic tang clung to him—a scent Zhao remembered from the labs at Deer Academy, where certain living specimens for Supernatural Appraisal class had come from the Cult of Fleshy Desire.

The man’s crazed expression and inhuman strength further confirmed Zhao’s suspicion. But there was no time to deal with the unconscious intruder. He seized Junxia’s hand, his tone brooking no argument. “To the parking garage. Now.”

She pressed the elevator button, finally daring to ask, “Why?”

Zhao, retrieving a compact communicator from his jacket, fitted it to his ear as he explained, “That man isn’t just a thief. He’s with a cult. I don’t know why they’re after you—maybe for the seal. He got here maybe twenty minutes before us, installing equipment when I arrived. He wouldn’t come alone; there must be a team supporting him. For now, we need a safe place.”

He didn’t let her question further. “Katherine, this is Tianxing Zhao. I’ve encountered members of the Flesh Cult at Junxia Kinami’s home. Requesting backup.” Silence. He repeated the call. Still nothing. As the elevator doors slid open, Zhao looked out warily, ceased his attempts, and placed Junxia behind him.

“Close the elevator. Go to the ground floor. Come down again in three minutes,” he ordered. “And don’t call the police.”

Junxia nodded fearfully. Outside, the garage lights had been smashed, and only a few flickering bulbs remained, their faint glow reflecting eerily in the eyes lurking in the darkness.

When the elevator sealed, Zhao unwound his special belt and wrapped it around his hand, his face expressionless.

Within the elevator, Junxia paced anxiously. She wanted to call for help, but Zhao’s calm instilled a strange trust. After a moment’s hesitation, she let her phone screen fade and waited the full three minutes before pressing the button. The doors slid open.

Zhao, unable to unfasten his blood-stained belt, leaned against the wall, catching his breath. At the sight of Junxia, he grabbed her hand, pulling her along as he asked, “Where’s your car?”

Her face blank, she whispered, “I don’t have a license.”

“That’s fine. I do.”

Head lowered, she mumbled, “I don’t have a car, either.”

Zhao paused, momentarily baffled how someone so lavish could lack a vehicle. He ran back to the bodies of the cultists, searching them without hesitation. Finding a set of keys, he returned.

“Where are we going?” Junxia’s voice trembled with fear, laced with excitement—the heat of youth not yet cooled, still yearning for adventure.

“We’ll talk in the car,” Zhao replied, his tone brusque but undeterred. Junxia did not protest; Zhao’s focused search for the vehicle’s beeping signal made her blush for reasons she could not name.

The car was an old, unremarkable model, its shabby interior betraying its owner’s modest life. Zhao inserted the key and began to back out. Though tension hung in the air, Junxia couldn’t help but laugh at his third stall. Zhao’s usually stoic face showed a rare hint of apology. “I’ve never driven manual.”

After a few more tries, he got the hang of it and steered smoothly toward the exit.

“So, where are we headed?” Junxia asked again.

Zhao didn’t answer immediately. His mind was racing—why were the cultists here, why Junxia, was it really the seal? But even with the Deer Academy’s seal, it was useless without the owner’s unique spell signature. Besides, the Tokyo branch was nearly defunct, its resources meager. After a brief analysis, Zhao remembered to answer his companion.

“What do you think the men in the garage have to do with the one in your apartment?”

“They’re probably accomplices,” Junxia replied after a moment’s thought.

“Exactly. I have allies too. I’m going to find them.”

Junxia murmured an “oh” and fell silent.

“Where did you put the seal?” Zhao finally asked. Whatever the cult wanted, it was surely supernatural, and the seal was best kept away from Junxia for her own safety.

Her eyes flickered, and she said warily, “I’ll only give it to you once I’m safe. Otherwise, what if you just leave me after getting it?”

Zhao nodded, and silence returned. He didn’t know why he remained so gentlemanly; in past missions, he’d never been sentimental. Deep down, he realized, he simply didn’t want to see the girl with that face suffer.

As Junxia secretly inhaled the unique scent of the man beside her, Zhao, thinking she was observing him, spoke softly: “Even if you didn’t have the seal, I’d still keep you safe.”

Her cheeks reddened. She pretended not to hear, gazing out at the city streaking by. Her heart should have been light, but the thought struck her—Zhao was only seeing another person in her. That fragile joy was quickly drowned by a wave of melancholy. They were mere strangers sharing a car, barely acquaintances, not even friends. The ache made her force her eyes away from his gentle profile.

Zhao, believing she hadn’t heard, said nothing more. For Junxia, perhaps it was better left unsaid.

“Maybe it’s because you remind me of someone I once knew. She was just as beautiful.”

Three hours earlier, after stowing their shopping back at the hotel, Katherine was about to rest when Avra grabbed her arm. “The day’s only half over! Such fine weather can’t be wasted,” Avra declared.

A promise to spend the whole day out was sacred to Avra; even an hour less didn’t count. Nighttime Avra was a different person from the daytime one.

For Ji Ning, nightfall was when the city truly came alive. This was Japan, after all, where most Chinese men’s impressions of nightlife were shaped by the unspeakable movies on the internet.

Qin Mo, since joining Deer Academy, had been in perpetual cram mode; now, she relished the rare chance for fun. Even the typically reserved Katherine was swayed by the city’s allure. Unable to resist Avra’s persistent coaxing, she joined her out into the neon-lit streets. After all, they were still young, not yet at the age for early nights.

Thus, after dinner and a brief rest, Ji Ning and the group dived once more into the Tokyo night.

As streetlights flickered to life, travelers drifted through neon kingdoms, everything dreamlike, cities polished like crystal globes by sharp interior lights.

Suddenly, Ji Ning clutched his stomach. “Ah, my stomach hurts. You go on ahead, I’ll rest at the hotel—must’ve been too much ice cream.” He dared not meet Qin Mo’s gaze, fearing she’d see through him.

“Pathetic. Only three ice creams and you’re down? I had five and I’m fine,” Avra boasted, nibbling a raindrop cake, her eyes full of disdain.

“Want me to walk you back?” Qin Mo offered, worried. She regretted not stopping him from competing with Avra—what’s so great about eating more ice cream?

“No need, a hot shower and some sleep will fix me. You enjoy yourselves. Don’t worry.” Ji Ning avoided her eyes, feeling guilty. If she pressed, he wasn’t sure he could lie.

Katherine started to ask, but Qin Mo squeezed her hand, signaling silence. Even she could see through Ji Ning’s clumsy lie; Qin Mo surely knew better.

Of course, Ji Ning wasn’t sick. He had no intention of wasting a single moment in the dull hotel; there were things he had to do alone.

As a young man, his first encounter with Japan had been through his hard drive. Kabukicho’s Ichiban Street had always been top of his Tokyo to-do list.

Flagging a taxi, his awkward Japanese barely needed words; the universal smile between men soon made his intentions clear. He set off for Shinjuku’s east exit, heart pounding in anticipation.

Upon arrival, he donned sunglasses and a hat—props he’d hidden in his jacket, hands over his stomach feigning illness as he’d planned ten minutes before slipping away.

But plans never keep pace with change. Even disguised, there was one person who could always spot him.

“Ji Ning.” The voice was familiar, calm, laced with anger. Qin Mo never tolerated lies. Her usually tranquil heart was unsettled.

“Sorry, you’ve mistaken me.” Ji Ning pulled his hat lower and turned to leave, regretting his rashness. He should have waited until everyone was asleep.

“You’re speaking Chinese,” Qin Mo said, grabbing his arm.

“All right, then I’ll speak Japanese—just pretend nothing happened?” Ji Ning stammered, embarrassed. Better to be caught early than be discovered twenty minutes later, sprawled on the floor of a certain kind of establishment, weeping as massage oil dripped from his body. The mere thought made him wish for the world’s end.

Qin Mo snatched his hat, twirling it on her finger. “Why are you here?” She didn’t know this was Kabukicho’s main street, but a woman’s intuition and the pink-lit shops made her blush, knowing it wasn’t a wholesome place.

“Curiosity drives human progress. I’m at my most curious age, and this isn’t the kind of place to visit with a bunch of girls. So, I came alone to satisfy that curiosity,” Ji Ning tried to sound confident.

“Pervert!” Qin Mo tugged his ear but didn’t pull hard. “Forget it. Come walk with me somewhere else.”

She looked again at the bustling crowd, her ears flushing. “Hurry, let’s not stay here.”

Once out of the dazzling street, Qin Mo whispered, “It’s been a long time since you walked with me like this.”

There was a trace of complaint in her tone, a hint of coyness that made Ji Ning’s heart race. He felt like a scoundrel, guilt silencing his words.

He gazed at her profile, the glow of the streetlights casting her skin in a soft, inviting hue. This was his first love, and like all boys, he was clumsy and unsure. He’d only come for curiosity’s sake, and if it had come to the real thing, he’d probably have fled in embarrassment—he’d never even held a girl’s hand.

At Deer Academy, their routine was simply dinner together and a walk. It sounded naive, but the relentless pace of their studies left little time for romance.

Qin Mo, like all girls in love, could be clingy, but she couldn’t bear to see him force a smile when exhausted. She preferred he rest than strain for her sake, so their time together was always brief.

Since arriving here, something soft had begun to stir, thoughts she had long ignored quietly awakening.

Sometimes she missed Ji Ning’s embrace, shy to admit it, but she loved the feeling of being held. He hugged gently, as if afraid to hurt her—a warm, cherished sensation.

“You haven’t hugged me in a long time.”

One simple sentence, and all Ji Ning’s guilt and love overflowed. He embraced her from behind, whispering, “You are a star, fallen by chance from the gods into my world. I know I should hold on tight, but it’s my first time meeting a star—I don’t know how to show my joy. If you ever feel neglected, you must tell me, for what I fear most is losing my star in silence.”

Qin Mo felt his breath blazing against her cheek, her heart racing. In all her forgotten years, she’d never felt so loved—this was her first true flutter of the heart, and every future heartbeat would belong to this one person. She turned, gazing at his profile. “The star is meeting you for the first time too—it’s shy and doesn’t know how to say it.”

Ji Ning couldn’t resist. He leaned in, brushing her face with his lips. “You should’ve told me sooner. We wasted too much time waiting for the other to speak. Even if I’m shy, you’re the girl I love most—I’ll work to overcome it.”

“Don’t say such things—it’s too embarrassing!” Qin Mo turned away, her face aflame, but her heart bounced with joy.

“Loving you isn’t a crime. I’m your rightful boyfriend; even a kiss is justified.”

He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the soft, delicate scent.

“Don’t! That tickles,” she protested, her voice barely a whisper, unfamiliar with such intimacy.

Ji Ning, seeing her blush, blew gently on her neck, making her shiver.

Despite her shyness, his unguarded affection made her happy. She gently pushed him away, her earlier annoyance at his secret outing forgotten.

Such is first love: the smallest gesture erases all grievances.

While Ji Ning and Qin Mo wandered hand-in-hand, Avra, on another street, spotted a familiar figure. She squeezed Katherine’s hand. “That looks like the person in the photo!”

Katherine pulled out the image, scrutinizing the figure under the streetlights—a woman in a flowing black pleated dress, high heels, and a casual handbag, checking her phone like a rose waiting for her lover.

Qin Mo’s drawing was so skilled that the composite was strikingly lifelike. Katherine instantly recognized the woman.

Ji Ning and Qin Mo hurriedly ended their date. Ten minutes later, the “Seekers of the Forgotten” group had surrounded their target, but Katherine hesitated, curious about the woman’s organization and motive.

“What do we do if we catch her? Show her Tokyo’s true heat?” Ji Ning grumbled over the comms, angry that his evening with Qin Mo had been cut short. He hoped to make it up to her, certain she hadn’t realized where they’d been earlier.

The others paused—he had a point. The woman had only exploited their lack of knowledge; she’d even opened a subway door for Ji Ning.

They were still young, not yet hardened enough to repay pain with pain.

Avra suggested, “Maybe make her compensate us?”

Qin Mo, uncertain, whispered, “Or just make her apologize, have her compensate our losses, and hand her over to Deer Academy?” She was less angry now, feeling generous, though she hadn’t forgotten Ji Ning’s dislocated shoulder.

As Katherine pondered how to handle the woman, their target began to move. “Follow her. Let’s see what she’s after,” Katherine ordered.

The woman—Chao Yan Chu—drifted through the city like a tourist, but soon Qin Mo noticed a pattern. “She’s tailing the young man in the black hoodie and gray jeans, twenty meters ahead.”

Chao Yan Chu had been to Japan many times, but those warm memories felt distant. Now, she was alone.

Most people drift through life oblivious, safe in their hothouses. If fortune fails, only unwavering faith can carry one through the harsh world outside.

Chao Yan’s life split in two at her eighteenth birthday. The day she joined Anderson Robotics, her mission became clear: only when the last cultist of Fleshy Desire was gone would she consider a normal life. Endless hatred fueled her every step.

A month ago, she’d learned of a gathering in Tokyo—today was the day those flesh-obsessed zealots would meet. She’d tracked her target, Tetsuya Egawa, for a week.

A good hunter knows patience: only when prey slips does the hunt begin. Egawa’s week of sordid routines, she merely observed.

Today, Egawa finally acted. He checked his phone, scanned his surroundings, and, seeing no one watching, headed to the pier and boarded a long-docked cruise ship.

At last, Chao Yan understood—no wonder she hadn’t found the meeting place. What better venue than a mobile ship?

She bought a ticket for a different cruise departing Tokyo Bay and walked briskly to the docks.

As her figure vanished aboard, Qin Mo, lowering her binoculars, mused, “Was she really just sightseeing?”

Ji Ning patted her shoulder. “Tourist or not, we should still have a word with her.”

Katherine, absorbed in her laptop, looked up. “Tickets are bought.”

Chao Yan sensed eyes on her. Pretending to check her makeup, she scanned behind but saw nothing; still, her instincts insisted.

She slipped into a restroom, changed into casual clothes, and sneaked into the captain’s cabin, subduing the staff with ease.

Glancing at her watch, the red dot on the map wasn’t far. She studied the controls and, after a few tries, recalled her old lessons. The little boat set off into the bay.

The tourists on deck checked the time, grateful for their early arrival. Crew members, curious, entered the cabin and never returned.

Katherine, pushing her glasses up, pointed. “She’s piloting now.”

“Did you see her enter?” Avra asked.

Ji Ning rolled his eyes. “Anyone can see—the boat’s swerving like a drunk.”

“Should we stop her?” Qin Mo fretted. There were many civilians aboard, and Chao Yan’s plan surely involved the ship.

Katherine hesitated. She wanted to know Chao Yan’s goal but couldn’t let innocents be harmed. She nodded to Ji Ning.

Taking a deep breath, Ji Ning knocked on the cabin door. When no one answered, he kicked it open. The crew lay unconscious, but Chao Yan was gone.

A gust of wind drew his gaze to the open window. Leaning out, he glimpsed her vanishing into the night—sliding by rope to another cruise ship. She disappeared over the rail—a perfect infiltration.

Though the security were not ordinary, Chao Yan, well-prepared, slipped inside. As long as she eliminated witnesses, her infiltration would be perfect—she had the makings of an assassin.

Crouched by a door, she listened through the cold metal, using her watch as a makeshift amplifier.

“Today, through flesh, we witness the glory bestowed upon us,” intoned a voice.

“The prophecy has come. When Arch-Sorcerer Yann descends, this flawed, stillborn universe shall be destroyed and remade into Ikunaan, a paradise. All will know salvation and joy.”

“I have walked the ice of dreams; faced the ancients in their desolate realm. I have borne their shameful power, crossed endless eons. I have witnessed worlds of death, slain Death herself. I have traversed our creator’s innards, watched eternity unfold. Our paradise draws near, and with our hands, we shall build it.”

Chao Yan strained to interpret the ancient Uralic phrases, but most was lost—only fragments made sense: “Ritual… replacement… descent… city…”

She was setting plastic explosives when a surge of unease made her step back. Suddenly, a hand punched through the iron door, spraying metallic shrapnel like blood. She rolled aside, dodging a second strike.

“Why eavesdrop? We don’t mind fresh flesh seeping in,” said a massive man, twisting his head into place with a crack, his face warped with hunger—the kind meant literally.

He licked his lips, revealing a mouthful of shark’s teeth, razor-sharp and glinting in the moonlight. His eyes held only pure, predatory hunger.

Despite his brutish strength, he was not ugly, but radiated a primal menace. His amber eyes reflected her terrified image, and just their gaze was enough to cow her.

All her experience was useless—the body’s fear overcame the mind. She instinctively stepped back.

Not wishing to test the man’s bite, Chao Yan fled, hurling smoke bombs. He caught one and crushed it before it went off, but she had thrown more, shrouding the deck in smoke.

Seizing her chance, she dashed for the railing. If she leapt into the water, her swimming skills—and the cultists’ rabid aquaphobia—gave her a chance to reach shore. But as she thought herself free, a giant hand gripped her shoulder. Bones cracked under the force, pain spasming her muscles and mind.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he sneered, mouth descending toward her throat. Just as despair set in, a hoarse voice drifted from the smoke. “Take her back—let the sacrament begin on her.”

The brute grinned, his teeth ghostly in the moonlight. Chao Yan thought of the cult’s lairs—whether mountain caves or cathedral basements, they all shared a feature: a path of broken limbs beside the altar, organic spines nailing victims to the crimson dais as proof of their rites.

She was bound to the altar like a lamb to slaughter. In the shadows, the congregation’s appetite filled the silent hall, the aged priest’s eyes greedy as he led the ritual. He had barely begun the prayers before his hunger for fresh blood and flesh almost overcame him. Only by bathing in the hot blood of the young did he feel truly alive.