11. Nocturne

Outside the Fifth Ring of District 17.

A sweeping snowfall covered the entire city in a flawless white shroud.

It was past midnight. A man dressed in black, his face obscured, walked hunched through the deserted streets and stopped at the mouth of a narrow alley.

“This must be the place. Damn this cursed weather, it’s freezing,” he muttered under his breath. Turning, he entered the alley, removed his cloak, folded it into a perfect square, brushed dust from the ground, and placed the cloak gently in a corner.

He glanced up at the towering apartment buildings on either side of the alley, flicked away the cigarette burning down to his lips, and exhaled a heavy breath, the warm air coiling into a visible plume of white in the frigid night.

Then, touching his fingertips together, a faint blue flame flared between them. He parted his hands in a circle, tracing a blue sigil in the air, murmuring softly, “Imprisonment, Formless Barrier.”

In the next instant, the blue sigil flashed swiftly toward the mouth of the alley, halting there to form a web that radiated outward, then faded from view.

Were any ordinary person present, they would have seen nothing—the barrier was invisible to untrained eyes. Should someone approach, their consciousness would be gently nudged, leading them away from the alley without ever realizing why.

This blue web contained the mysteries of space, visible only to Travelers, and could only be conjured by trained Timewalkers.

“Captain, the barrier is set,” the man whispered, touching his right ear.

“Commence the operation! Liu Dazhuang, you and the others hold the barrier. The rest, follow me inside. Move!”

“Yes, sir!”

Meanwhile, atop a building, a dozen black-clad figures darted soundlessly into the night, each taking a different route through the veiled barriers woven across the area.

With his task complete, Liu Dazhuang pulled the cloak back over his shoulders and huddled in the corner, shivering against the wind and snow. “Guard, guard, guard… Fifteen years and I’m still stuck as a gatekeeper.”

He muttered quietly, well aware that if the captain overheard, he’d be skinned alive.

Water dripped rhythmically from the edges of the tall buildings, forcing Liu Dazhuang to shift his position to avoid getting soaked. Still, droplets found their way down his collar, and he wiped them away, growing more dejected.

“They say a top Timewalker arrived tonight… If only I could travel through time like him—make a name, punish the wicked. Just thinking about it makes my blood race.”

“Same people, different fates…”

Lost in thought, Liu Dazhuang lit another cigarette. The Time Bureau’s Ninth Division existed because of Travelers; they handled only Traveler-related incidents, and each field team was assigned two or three gatekeepers to lay down barriers—internally called “Goalies.”

Fifteen years ago, after his own crossing, Liu Dazhuang’s abilities proved to be of the confinement type, so he joined the Ninth Division as one of the team’s three Goalies.

For all those years, he’d watched his teammates leap between skyscrapers, envying their true Timewalker prowess. He, meanwhile, was nothing more than a glorified doorman.

Still, envy aside, he was devoted to his work. As the breadwinner, the job paid well—enough to support his family.

The thought of his sweet, obedient daughter waiting at home warmed him. Every night, she would prepare a steaming basin for his feet, letting him soak away his fatigue. In those moments, he knew every hardship was worth it.

So what if he was a gatekeeper? As long as he provided for his wife and child, he could swallow his pride.

Besides, at over forty, dreams and ambitions were little more than illusions.

Before long, five or six cigarette butts had accumulated at his feet. As if each smoke could stave off the biting cold just a little longer.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A steady sound echoed from deep within the alley.

The sudden noise snapped Liu Dazhuang to attention. He stood, peering into the darkness.

He could see nothing.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound grew closer.

His right hand gripped the curved blade at his side—Windshadow of the Moon. His pores tingled, and his hand trembled slightly. Maybe tonight was the night his name would be made.

As the sound approached, a stretched-out shadow crept from the alley, resolving into a human figure.

Liu Dazhuang’s breathing quickened. All his muscles tensed. Talking about fame was easy; earning it often meant risking your life.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Each step echoed through the silent night, pulling his nerves taut as a wire.

A beggar?

The figure drew near, and Liu Dazhuang froze.

Damn, it’s just a beggar.

His tension melted away, replaced by irritation. He glared at the beggar, annoyed at being startled.

“Hey, beggar! This alley’s blocked—you can’t get out. It’s freezing out there. Go back inside before you freeze to death.”

The beggar slowly raised his head, staring at Liu Dazhuang without expression.

“Did you hear me? Don’t wander around at night—no one will help you if you freeze. Move along!” Liu Dazhuang’s tone hardened.

The beggar’s face and hair were filthy, his feet bare, his clothes tattered, yet he didn’t seem to feel the cold at all.

After a moment, the beggar looked at Liu Dazhuang, then glanced at the alley’s mouth, and began to turn away.

“Wait.”

Just as the beggar was about to go, Liu Dazhuang called out.

The beggar paused, reaching slowly into his breast.

“Here, go buy yourself some shoes. Aren’t you afraid your feet will freeze off?” Liu Dazhuang sighed heavily, fished a hundred-yuan bill from his coat’s inner pocket, and handed it over.

“Damn, guess I’ll have to bum smokes off the others for the rest of the month,” he grumbled. That was his cigarette money, and it stung to part with it, but he didn’t pull his hand back.

The beggar, hearing his words, stopped his movement, then turned to face Liu Dazhuang again.

“Take it. I’m not sticking it in your pocket, and I need to get home,” Liu Dazhuang urged.

The beggar took the bill with trembling hands, stared silently at Liu Dazhuang for a moment, then shuffled back into the alley.

Liu Dazhuang shook his head and returned to his spot in the corner.

“This damned outer ring…”

Before long, static crackled in his earpiece.

“Captain, we’ve found someone—looks like a beggar.”

“Wait, he’s not a beggar, he’s armed!”

“What—he… he’s… so… strong…”

A beggar?

At the mouth of the alley, Liu Dazhuang stood frozen for a moment, then suddenly bolted inside.