CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR:The sea was a mirror of steel under the bruised morning sky. Clouds pressed low, churning with the same restless energy that burned in Billy’s chest. The patrol vessel hummed beneath his feet as he and Owen scanned the horizon through binoculars. Somewhere ahead, just beyond the fog line, Monsieur’s cargo ship cut through the water, slow and deliberate.Every second mattered now.Owen adjusted the radio frequency, his voice clipped. “Still no response from the coast-guard relay. Either he’s jamming us again or they’re out of range.”Billy’s jaw flexed. “Then we move without them. We can’t risk losing visual.”“Billy,” Owen warned, lowering the binoculars. “If we push too hard and he’s rigged that vessel, we’re not walking out of this.”Billy gave a dry half-smile. “Since when do we ever walk away clean?”Wind ripped across the deck, scattering sea spray against his face. It smelled of salt, oil, and danger. Every instinct told him that this was it—the moment when a

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX:The night pressed down on the city like a thick curtain, its silence broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the rhythmic clatter of raindrops against the glass. Billy sat alone in the dimly lit study, his eyes tracing the glowing map spread across the table. The Luoshen’s patterns, though now partially decoded, still pulsed with mysteries that refused to give themselves away completely. The faint light from the lamp flickered over his face, catching the exhaustion etched in every line.He had been at it for hours—deciphering, connecting symbols, chasing ghosts. Every revelation seemed to pull him closer to something monumental, yet each step forward also threatened to unearth more danger. The deeper he went, the clearer it became that the Luoshen wasn’t merely a map to treasures; it was a test of loyalty, intellect, and endurance. It demanded blood and patience in equal measure.A soft knock at the door broke his concentration.“Come in,” he muttered, rubbing

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT:The sky over the old port was painted in bruised shades of gray, the kind of dawn that promised trouble before a single word was spoken. The wind carried the smell of salt and rust, whipping through abandoned cranes and stacks of forgotten containers. Billy crouched behind the steering wheel of the black SUV, watching the horizon with a cold steadiness that came only after too many sleepless nights.Owen adjusted his earpiece beside him. “No chatter yet,” he murmured. “Monsieur’s men are quiet. Too quiet.”Billy’s knuckles whitened around the wheel. “He’s not quiet. He’s calculating.”It had been less than six hours since the warehouse ambush, but the images still looped behind his eyes—Monsieur’s smirk, the flash of gunfire, the device they’d recovered. Billy had spent the night trying to decode it, and what he’d found made his stomach twist: GPS coordinates. And not just anywhere—coordinates that pointed straight to the port.Now he knew why.Monsieur wasn’t fle

CHAPTER SIXTY:The morning broke gray and heavy, a mist rising from the mountain like the earth itself was exhaling after years of holding its breath. Billy stood at the edge of the ruins, mud caked to his boots, staring at the valley below where the storm had spent itself. The world looked bruised — trees stripped bare, stones scattered, air thick with silence.Behind him, Owen spoke softly into a comm unit, coordinating recovery teams and cleanup crews. “The tunnels are gone,” he said after a long pause. “Nothing left down there. Not even debris worth retrieving.”Billy didn’t turn. His eyes stayed locked on the charred outline of what had been the mining site. “Good,” he said quietly. “Let it stay buried.”But the words rang hollow even to his own ears.Owen joined him, his expression worn, the lines of exhaustion cutting deep into his face. “You should rest. You’ve barely slept in two days.”“I can’t,” Billy murmured. “Not yet.”The truth was, even if he lay down, his mind wouldn’

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO :The descent from the mountain should’ve felt like relief — like the air itself was letting go of the tension that had strangled them for hours. But for Billy, every step downward only made something coil tighter inside him. The Luoshen fragment in his pocket felt heavier than a stone. More like a heartbeat.The team moved carefully along the narrow trail, their boots crunching against fractured gravel still warm from the explosions earlier. Owen walked ahead, flashlight sweeping the mist, his shoulders tense. Tyla stayed close behind Billy, but she barely spoke. She just kept looking at him in that silent way that said she had questions she didn’t dare voice — not yet.The clouds above were bruised, swollen with rain. Dusk hadn’t even settled, but the sky already looked like evening pressed its palm over the world. Billy kept glancing back at the ruins up the slope — or what was left of them. Smoke still curled upward, thin and restless, like whispers escaping a gr