"What's up with Major Sting?" The attendant frowned. "Didn't you say we didn't need to worry about him?"
"That was then, this is now. He's not the same person anymore."
"Will he be a problem for us?"
"I don't know. And that's exactly why it's scary. He used to be a ball of light—dazzling, scorching, but so pure you could see right through him. Now, though, he's suddenly a bit mysterious. A hero with brains and guts, a shining leader, and now he's got a dash of mystery and depth—how am I supposed to sleep at night?" Cobra sighed, rocking back and forth in his chair, lost in thought.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly looked at the attendant. "By the way, the Heavenly Ranking should be updating soon, right? What's his new rank?"
"Still half an hour to go. I'll keep an eye on it."
"Alright, let me know when it's out." Cobra picked up a teacup, clutching it like a grandpa warming his hands, leaned back in his rocking chair, and squinted his eyes. "It's December... getting cold..."
Winter in Beijing is cold, but Beijing is far from the coldest place around.
At the intersection of Gansu, Qinghai, and Xinjiang, there's a region everyone in China knows well—Dunhuang.
This place was once a key gateway on the ancient Silk Road, giving birth to a thriving Silk Road culture. Even now, it's a major tourist spot and cultural site. But once you leave Dunhuang City and pass the caves, heading deeper into the desert and the Gobi, it's pure desolation. The west wind howls, yellow sand stretches forever, and the icy wind cuts through the wilderness. Out on the wasteland, someone is trudging forward step by step—Jasper Xiao.
His feet crossed the sea of sand without leaving a single footprint—just like his journey across half of China to get here, not a single surveillance camera or photo captured him.
This mission had to be carried out in total secrecy, as if he’d vanished—no one could know, not even the twins.
He chose to take this risk himself.
The wind tugged at his beard and hair. Jasper Xiao’s gaze was firm and resolute. After crossing the sea of sand and rounding a mountain pass, he arrived at a hidden valley. The unremarkable little valley was packed with troops—armed to the teeth, machine guns, artillery, all trained on a rocky crevice deep in the valley.
There were also variously dressed, swift-moving Chosen Ones, gathering and prowling around. From Jasper Xiao’s perspective, each bore unique marks of their powers. These were state-sanctioned Chosen Ones, the prototype of a new violent agency.
These precious forces had been sent to this godforsaken place for a reason—this place mattered. Once an archaeological site, it was now under military lockdown.
Jasper Xiao moved forward, not hiding at all. He brushed his right fingers, and a golden ring flickered into view at the base—then vanished, along with Jasper Xiao himself.
It was the One Ring!
Not only had it not disappeared, Jasper Xiao had brought it to Earth!
Jasper Xiao strode toward the military base, utterly unconcerned about being detected. Whether by high-tech gear or the state’s own oddballs, he was unfazed. He knew exactly how strong those oddballs were—many were under his command. As for the special equipment, those were Director Yan’s inventions, and he wasn’t sure of the details. But he was certain none of them were good enough to spot him.
The One Ring didn’t just make him invisible—it pulled him into the gap between the material world and the spirit realm. He was now half-ghost, walking the world’s edge.
Neither Bilbo nor Frodo ever managed this—because they were just bearers, not masters of the Ring. But Jasper Xiao now wielded the power of a true Ringmaster.
The Paladin walked the overlap between worlds, radiating a beacon to spirit realm creatures—like a bonfire in the night. One after another, powerful spirits sensed him, swarming like hungry wolves.
They wouldn’t miss a chance to return to the material world—a strong, living body straddling both realms was irresistible, sending them into a frenzy to possess it.
Jasper Xiao didn’t resist or even acknowledge them, letting the flood of spirits rush into him like a tide. Yet, like monkeys in a magical gourd, they vanished without a sound.
It was as if Jasper Xiao’s body contained a primordial abyss that devoured all shadows.
He kept moving, crossing barricades, weapon emplacements, minefields, and finally entered a rocky crevice. Not far in, he saw a pitch-black ancient structure—the Black Death Emperor’s tomb.
Iron mound, copper tomb, silver shell, golden coffin, jade shroud.
This was where the Black Death Emperor was born.
As he approached, all the fierce spirits scattered in terror, not daring to cross the threshold. Clearly, this tomb suppressed more than just the material dimension.
Now, a dozen specialists in airtight hazmat suits were busy running tests and calculations. They came from all walks of life—top experts to street sorcerers, anyone who might help.
Their mission: gather intel and samples on the mysterious doomsday weapon codenamed “Miasma,” crack its secrets, and find ways to counter it.
But Jasper Xiao’s goal was something else—
“The Black Death Emperor’s emergence was bizarre. Why did his tomb crack open at that moment? Why did a random tourist discover it? Why did it stay sealed for eighteen hundred years, only to break when the Chosen Ones appeared? And why did it end up in Shanghai right when the Destiny Bearer awakened?”
“Why did the jade in his brow crack from the start? Without that crack, would the Miasma have leaked and caused this ancient catastrophe?”
Jasper Xiao walked into the tomb, passing the experts. A strange light flashed from his fingers, and the experts instantly went blank. They’d remember nothing of the next ten minutes, not even under hypnosis. Jasper Xiao used more than illusion—he used magic.
Magic unique to Middle-earth—dark sorcery.
Jasper Xiao brushed the Ring, returning from the spirit gap to the material world, muttering to himself, “This isn’t a coincidence.”
“It’s fate.”
“Or it’s a conspiracy.”
“I’m not a conspiracy theorist.”
“But I don’t believe in fate, either.”
“What do you think?”
As soon as he spoke, black mist surged from Jasper Xiao’s body, swirling into a half-real, half-shadowy figure. The face was unmistakable—Sauron! The Dark Lord had hitched a ride to Earth with Jasper Xiao.
“I’ve seen your memories, but I can’t give you a definite answer,” Sauron whispered in Chinese, voice low and sinister. “But I know if this is a conspiracy, it’s flawless. No one but a stubborn digger like you would even notice. That means the schemer behind it is truly dangerous.”
“Dangerous, sure. But I know something else:” Jasper Xiao stepped into the final burial chamber, seeing the golden coffin. Lightning flashed in his eyes. “If this is a conspiracy, at least the blood debt of millions finally has a culprit. Time to settle accounts!”
He approached the golden coffin, inspecting the dragon pillars and the carvings—world fingerprints glimpsed on the axis of reality. Jasper Xiao studied every detail, then climbed into the empty coffin.
“I must bring justice to the millions of wronged souls, or the city will never find peace.” He gestured, magic sealing himself inside a silver shell.
“I must face the source of the Miasma and find a way to fight it. If the Black Death Emperor stirs, disaster will follow.” The heavy gold lid closed, sealing Jasper Xiao in darkness.
“I must uncover the mastermind behind all this, or the Shanghai tragedy will only be the beginning.” He lay where the Black Death Emperor once lay, hands folded over his chest.
Sauron’s voice echoed in his mind: “If you’re set on this, let’s dive into the ultimate chaos together.”
“Let’s go.” White holy light blazed, but black flames also burst from Jasper Xiao. He absorbed all of Sauron’s Miasma! Light and dark filled the coffin, clashing, merging, and creating a strange, indescribable chaos.
Chaos churned, and the world fingerprints carved into the tomb lit up, as if responding to something. Deep in the chaos, a unique point of white appeared.
White Night! A miniature soul tunnel, summoned by Jasper Xiao.
On the other side, a will of madness and darkness descended. Even a whiff would drive an ordinary person insane.
“Hiss—!” Jasper Xiao shivered in the chaos, like sucking cold air through his teeth in winter. He exhaled: “December’s here. It’s cold…”
Boom—the space rippled like an explosion, shockwaves spreading then sealed away by the coffin. The world fingerprints faded, and before the researchers regained their senses, everything was silent. No one knew Jasper Xiao had come or vanished into the golden coffin.
Meanwhile, at the original blast site in Shanghai, a goddess-like woman descended from the sky.
Complex, mystical patterns were etched in the sky. If she’d just stitched a ring before, now she embroidered intricate designs within. The runes covered two-thirds of the circle, shifting and merging with the world fingerprints—magical and alive.
One third remained, and though it was time to push through, she paused.
She had to make up her mind to do what must be done.
Starlight surged, and a bow of pure light appeared in her hands. She drew a starlit arrow from her quiver, cosmic threads weaving a massive “Seek” character.
A glow lit her brow, and a portrait flew out—it was Yang Qi. His image merged with the arrow, the “Seek” character stamping onto it before shrinking inside.
The arrow glowed like a lightbulb.
She drew the bow, loosed the arrow, and it shot skyward like a meteor, vanishing into the void. Minutes later, a point of starlight dropped into her pale palm.
The starlight faded, and the arrow shrank to the size of a needle. The seeking star needle floated in her palm, spinning before pointing steadily south.
“He really is back.” She pocketed the star needle and gazed south. The north wind blew, clouds heavy as lead, and Shanghai was shrouded in gloom. She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed: “It’s already December. I have to hurry…”