CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE :The cold, eerie silence of the hidden temple pressed against Billy like a living thing. The Luoshen murals stretched along the ice-laced walls, illuminated by the pale beams of their flashlights. Every figure etched into the stone seemed to be watching, judging, waiting. Billy’s boots crunched softly on the frosted ground as he moved, his eyes scanning the murals with a mixture of curiosity and dread.Tyla, carrying a compact scanning device, stayed a step behind him. “These markings… they’re not just art,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying over the low hum of the station’s failing systems. “They’re records. Stories… histories. Prophecies, maybe.”Billy nodded without answering, feeling a chill beyond the icy air. He had learned, painfully, that anything ancient connected to the Luoshen carried weight — and danger. The murals here depicted a pattern of the constellations, interwoven with human figures, some triumphant, others kneeling or recoiling. It was a

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN :The moment they stepped deeper into the temple, the air thickened, heavy with the scent of ice, stone, and faint ozone from the lingering relic energy. Billy felt the weight of the murals pressing against him—not literally, but in the way history seemed to converge around this place, demanding his attention. Every pulse from the walls whispered urgency: move carefully, every step matters.Tyla scanned the floor ahead, her device humming faintly. “The glyphs indicate the path splits here,” she said, pointing to two corridors carved into the rock. “One leads toward the next energy node, the other… toward what I think is the protector. But the readings are inconsistent. There’s something masking the true path.”Billy’s hand tightened around the strap of his pack. “So we’re going in blind? That’s just what we need—more surprises.”“Not blind,” Owen corrected, his voice low and measured. “We follow the energy signature. It’s weak, but it’s there. Whoever or whatever

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE :The Luoshen temple trembled beneath them, its massive stone walls groaning under the strain of the recently activated pillar. Billy’s heart pounded like a war drum as he and his team stared at the central star-point, which now emitted a beam of ethereal light that shot upward, cutting through the shadows of the temple with surgical precision. Dust swirled in the air, stirred by the rising energy, and the faint glow of the runes pulsed rhythmically, as if counting time in a language older than memory.Tyla’s voice was sharp, snapping him back from his trance. “Billy! We need to move! The structure can’t hold this much energy for long!” She grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the vibrating pedestal. Her eyes, wide with urgency, darted across the chamber. “Every second we linger, the temple becomes more unstable. The star-point’s resonance—it’s collapsing the foundations!”Billy’s teeth clenched. “I can’t just leave it—Owen, the beam—it’s aligning with the next c

CHAPTER 102 :Tyla paced slowly along the small safe house corridor, the soft creak of the floorboards marking each step. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of a map she had spread out on the table, one that detailed relic locations, energy fluctuations, and the aftermath of the Arctic temple collapse. The room was quiet except for the hum of the relic-linked tablet Billy had been examining earlier, its faint pulses resonating in tandem with the soft rhythm of his breathing.Billy sat on a worn chair, hands clasped together, staring at the floor as fragmented memories swirled in his mind. Despite the pain of the past days, his resolve had not weakened. But there was a question he could not ignore, one that had haunted him ever since the mural in the hidden temple had revealed his father’s face marked as a betrayer.“Tyla…” he began cautiously, his voice low. “There was something you saw in the temple… something you didn’t tell me. I can feel it—like it’s a piece of the puzzle

CHAPTER 103 :The safe house was quiet, but the silence felt like it had been stretched tight, ready to snap. Billy sat on the edge of a worn-out cot, rubbing his temples as the events from the Arctic station replayed in his mind. He could still see the engine beneath the ice, could still feel the pulse of energy it had emitted—an energy that hadn’t just been mechanical. It had been alive, and it had whispered his father’s name, Alexander Anderson, with an edge of accusation that refused to leave him.Tyla paced along the narrow corridor, her boots clattering softly against the wooden floor. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, though the warmth did little to calm her nerves. “We can’t just sit here, Billy,” she said, voice low but firm. “There’s too much we don’t know. Every second we waste, the Curator moves faster. And now, whatever’s left of that station… it’s probably tracking us.”Billy looked up, his eyes shadowed. “I know,” he admitted. “But sitting here preten