So-Called Karma 2

The passage was deep and narrow, wide enough for only three or four people to walk abreast.

Every dozen meters or so, a wall lamp cast a dim yellow glow, like eyes silently watching each passerby.

Lu Mingqiu didn't break the silence. On missions, she never made small talk.

She was thinking.

From the base's condition, it was clear the occupants had evacuated long ago—methodically and in good order. They'd wiped all data, left a few members to wrap up, and the rest had gone.

Before entering the passage, she'd sent Ger to check the bar's third floor. They didn't need to be overly cautious on the way out—Ger had turned into a dragonfly and zipped along the normal route.

Now he reported: the third floor was empty too.

This base had been abandoned.

The tip about Stinger had been a decoy—a way to kill two birds with one stone and cause the Resistance trouble.

What had made them give up the Nanjin stronghold?

Given the two organizations' history of bitter enmity, if the Church knew the Resistance was stationed there, they wouldn't simply retreat. Rallying forces to fight would be the usual response, so Lu Mingqiu hadn't hesitated. She'd organized this operation expecting to wipe out everyone inside.

But they'd found nothing. What could be more urgent than opposing the Resistance?

Yan Xianchuan walked silently, her steps softer than a falling snowflake. She took point automatically, scouting ahead.

But there was truly nothing—just one patch of light after another on the concrete walls, and nothing else in the entire corridor.

Passing another rectangular wall lamp, she stopped. "No more path ahead."

That wasn't quite accurate.

Lu Mingqiu stepped up and stared down at the dim sewer network below, her expression grim.

It wasn't that there was no path—there were too many, and they had no idea which to take.

"Let's go," she said.

For now, interrogating the captured prisoners was the priority.

The operation had been a bust, but Lu Mingqiu didn't feel disappointed or dejected. She'd long known that not every effort would yield positive results.

At least the team sent to the docks hadn't lost anyone, though two unlucky ones had been grazed by stray bullets and would need a few days to recover.

The prisoners were taken to the medical room, where their monitoring chips were removed one by one. Once the anesthesia wore off, they all woke up.

These five weren't wearing church robes, but they had necklaces with the Eye Without a Pupil—compared to the pendant Yan Xianchuan had seen on the clergy at the church, it lacked the wheat stalks through the eye, leaving only the eye itself.

Their expressions were like mannequins from the same factory—each ready to sacrifice themselves for the Mother Goddess. Even captured in enemy territory, they were haughty and disdainful, as if they wouldn't waste words on ignorant civilians.

Lu Mingqiu paid their resistance no mind.

Every prisoner brought in for interrogation was like this—firmly refusing to say a word. But it didn't matter; their opinions were irrelevant. This wasn't a kindergarten where they needed to be coaxed into talking.

Lu Mingqiu hypnotized each of them and handed them over to others for separate interrogation.

These were small fry, unable to provide any useful information. They didn't know where the other branches were, where the supply crates were headed, or what they were for—clueless across the board.

Orders came down to transport the crates, so they moved them. As for what was inside, none of them knew, and they hadn't asked—they just followed orders.

Still, one person did offer something useful: he remembered the license plate on the truck that came to pick up the goods.

The others hadn't spoken, but they felt disheartened. After all that effort, all they got was a license plate—was that any different from getting nothing?

No matter how skilled Hei Ge was, he couldn't search every city's traffic network to trace the truck's route. Besides, given the Church's caution, they'd likely switch vehicles halfway.

Lu Mingqiu remained composed. She said a few reassuring words and left with Yan Xianchuan.

On the way back, she acted as if nothing had happened.

Yan Xianchuan stole glances at her expression but couldn't read anything.

"If you have something to say, just say it. Hesitating like that isn't like you," Lu Mingqiu said, glancing over while driving.

"You don't seem too disappointed," Yan Xianchuan said. "I saw several people outside sighing."

"Is the conflict between the Resistance and the Church so great? They seemed more upset than missing a meal."

Lu Mingqiu chuckled. "You know the Church is an underground organization propped up by the conglomerates. They help with shady dealings on one hand, and fight us on the other."

"The conglomerates hold absolute power. If they want something done, they don't need to hide it—no one can overthrow them. Everyone's used to it."

"The first clash between our organization and the Church was seven years ago." Lu Mingqiu's gaze drifted into memory. "I wasn't part of it then, but I watched the action footage. 'Tragic' doesn't even begin to describe it."

"The Church frequently conducted human experiments. They captured drifters by various means—no one cared about those wandering folk. Our organization found clues, went to rescue them, and ran into the Church."

"The Resistance won, but fewer than one in ten survived. As for those poor souls, used as test subjects—many couldn't even be called human anymore..." Her eyes flickered. "They all died in the end, not long after."

"From then on, we knew each other existed. Even now, operations to dismantle Church labs continue. It's just that nothing's surfaced in my jurisdiction recently."

"Many of our members were saved from lab tables." Lu Mingqiu sighed. "They hold deep hostility toward the Church, so it's natural they'd be disappointed by this empty result."

Yan Xianchuan nodded with an understanding look.

But she didn't really care about the other members. She'd spoken just to talk—to communicate.

Before, she would initiate conversation to grab attention, show off, test reactions. Now she spoke without purpose.

Yet finding a topic had become oddly difficult. When she wanted to say something, she didn't know what to talk about.

In the end, they drove back home in silence.

By the time they arrived, dawn was breaking. Iron-gray clouds were streaked with red and purple as sunlight climbed from below. Lu Mingqiu smiled softly at her. "Go get some sleep. It was a long night."

Yan Xianchuan glanced at her collarbone for no reason. "It wasn't hard. You rest too."

She pushed open the opposite door to her room, showered, and lay down.

The thin blanket was smooth as silk, cool to the touch. Yan Xianchuan rested her arm on it, her mind wandering.

Meanwhile, Lu Mingqiu returned to her room but didn't sleep.

She'd barely sat down when a video request came in. She accepted, and a blurry figure projected in front of her.

"That truck—it has to be tracked," she said, her tone serious. "The Church's actions worry me."

"It is unusual," the projection said, its voice distorted. "I'll have someone handle it. You'll have an answer by tomorrow."

With that, the figure flickered and vanished.

Lu Mingqiu relaxed somewhat, but her brow remained furrowed as she pondered the Church's anomaly.

Even for supplying an underground branch, they wouldn't buy such huge quantities of compressed food through shady means. The Church had legitimate purchasing channels.

Take the Resistance as an example: building branch bases, supplying weapons and ammunition, and keeping logistics running all require massive cash flow. But every one of their above-ground businesses could serve as cover, so there was no need for such elaborate measures.

The Resistance could keep its accounts clean. Could the Church not?

Unless the food had to be completely hidden, because they couldn't guarantee their businesses weren't infiltrated, so they bypassed official channels entirely and operated in the dark.

So the question was: what did the Church need all that compressed food for? It wasn't for feeding pigs, surely.

Lu Mingqiu rubbed her brow, weary. After a quick wash, she forced herself to stop thinking and fell asleep.

She needed to stay sharp at all times.

****

At seven in the morning, Guo Cheng's alarm went off. He stumbled to the bathroom with bed hair, and after the rush of water stopped, he came out fully awake, eyes wide and alert.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed two sandwiches from the fridge, and nuked them in the microwave. Then he took out a carton of milk, sat at the table, wolfed down the sandwiches in big bites, drained the milk in one go, and tossed the wrappers in the trash.

While eating, he kept his eyes on the floating screen, scrolling through videos and chuckling.

Once breakfast was done, Guo Cheng wiped his mouth and pulled out a uniform with a yellow chest badge. The round badge read: Department of Transportation.

He lived in the dormitory—just an elevator ride and a short walk to the administrative building.

Many people like him stayed in the dorms, all in uniform, only the badges different—some blue, some green.

"Hey!" Someone with the same yellow badge bumped into him from behind, grinning. "So, how'd it go?"

"Not great," Guo Cheng said, face falling, looking glum.

"Shouldn't be." The man scratched his head, puzzled. "I asked around—she's single and pretty."

"I'm the problem." Guo Cheng let out a heavy sigh. "She didn't want me. The moment I said I was just a low-level clerk, she deleted me."

"Oh... well, that's her loss! No taste!" The man gave an awkward laugh.

"It's 'no eyes for Mount Tai,'" Guo Cheng said, exasperated. "Ming, how did you even pass the culture exam?"

"Eh, just... passed it," Wan Ming said, quickly changing the subject. "Hey, did you see the message? We've got a job. Team Leader Zheng wants us to look up a license plate."

They walked into the elevator together, pressing for the 22nd floor. Others in different uniforms joined them, and the car was quiet, so they both shut up.

The doors opened and closed repeatedly until they reached the 22nd floor.

"I haven't checked," Guo Cheng said. "Hit-and-run again?"

"Doesn't seem like it," Wan Ming said. "He didn't say. Probably another side job."

He lowered his voice on the last phrase, making it sound garbled.

Guo Cheng felt a bit of disgust but also helplessness. Working in the system meant learning to curry favor. Extra tasks from superiors—official or personal—had to be done, or you'd face consequences.

He had no connections at home, purely passing the exam to get in. After four years at the bottom, while his peers had climbed a step or two, he was still stuck.

Over time, Guo Cheng had made peace with it, but the resentment lingered.

He and Wan Ming pushed open the office door. One colleague was already inside; the office had four people total, and one was still absent.

Wan Ming dropped into his chair, turned on the computer, and drawled, "Alright, let's get to work."

He typed "JDS96681" into the search bar. The system automatically scanned all vehicles in the city. After about ten minutes, it found a hit.

"Let me see... last night's," Wan Ming said, swiping his finger across the touchscreen and pulling up last night's traffic cameras. "Wenming Street, Lanshan Road, Baihua Road... left the city."

Guo Cheng leaned over from his chair. "Found it?"

Wan Ming pointed at the screen. "A truck. No idea why we're looking for it. It's on Route 298 now."

"Better not guess what the higher-ups are thinking," Guo Cheng said, still sounding sulky, as if his happiest moment was eating breakfast and scrolling videos.

"True," Wan Ming said with a shrug, and reported to his superior.

Their boss, a man called Team Leader Zheng, received the news and passed it up to his superior, along with a bunch of apologies for the delay.

It went up the chain until it reached a woman in a suit. She knocked, and upon receiving permission, entered. "The license plate you requested this morning has been found."

"Keep monitoring it. I want to know its final destination." A cold, stern female voice came from behind the chair. "You'll handle it personally."

"Yes, Minister." The suited woman responded respectfully and left the room.

A moment later, Lu Mingqiu was roused from sleep by a special notification. She opened her eyes fully alert. "Route 298... heading north."

At least they had a lead. She lay back down, a weight lifting from her chest.

Members temporarily transferred from other regions had been in Nanjin City for a day. In that single free day, a dozen or so people went in a group to visit the Holy Healing Church, as if it were a tourist spot.

Not only did they look, they muttered among themselves, drawing glares from faithful believers. But these thick-skinned folks didn't care about dirty looks.

The Mother Goddess Italu was still beautiful—merciful and full-figured. If such a god existed, She must be one who loved all beings.

Unfortunately, it was all a lie.

To fabricate history, they forged murals and ancient texts. Much of pre-Great Cleansing history had been lost, and history itself could be rewritten.

All it took was changing textbook content, controlling all media, and enforcing a single narrative. Rewriting history was simple.

The younger generation grew up in such an environment, fed false culture. They didn't know what truth was, because no truth was shown to them.

The Holy Healing Church disguised itself as a sect with millennia of lineage, the religious system of the long-extinct ancient Era civilization, backed by fabricated archaeological murals.

In this era of suffering and oppression, when resistance seemed futile, people desperately needed spiritual solace—a reason to live.

The Church gave them hope. That, in itself, wasn't bad.

But using it to preach resignation and submission to the status quo was a fatal flaw.

The Church was a massive obstacle. The Resistance wasn't just fighting the conglomerates; it was fighting countless deluded masses.

It was hard, but everyone held some hope. Every Resistance member was a foolish idealist.

That dozen-strong crew made noise for a day and then returned to their respective outposts the next day.

On the weekend, Yan Xianchuan was curled up on the sofa playing games when Lu Mingqiu called her. "Pack up. We're going on a trip—leaving this afternoon."

"Where?" Yan Xianchuan blinked.

"Walnut Town," Lu Mingqiu said.

Yan Xianchuan blinked a couple more times, completely unfamiliar with the place.

"That's the final destination of those supplies," Lu Mingqiu said, pursing her lips. "Bring a jacket. It's much colder there than here."

The person on the sofa nodded, looking almost obedient.

Not that Yan Xianchuan had questioned her orders before, but she'd been awfully well-behaved lately. So long without "exercise," and she still stayed home without complaint—no tantrums about needing something bloody. Compared to her earlier state of going feral after two or three days without action, she was a different person.

Unbelievable.

But since it was a positive change, there was no need to dig into the cause.

The two packed their luggage. To reach Walnut Town, they first had to take an airship to Lipeia City, then transfer.

Walnut Town was a small township, but due to population loss, only a few thousand residents remained—oddly few.

The town was isolated. Lu Mingqiu had spent ages digging through records to find any mention of it. In the past, it had survived by selling walnuts—but that was before the Great Cleansing.

After the Cleansing, no records remained.

From Nanjin to Lipeia took six hours by airship. Business class had signal, so it wasn't too dull, though the in-flight meals left much to be desired. Even in business class, the food was edible at best, not tasty.

Yan Xianchuan wasn't picky, but living with Lu Mingqiu had spoiled her—her palate was subtly sharpening.

Lu Mingqiu handed her a peach, which was sweet and refreshing. Maybe she'd noticed Yan's reluctance during the meal.

The moment she stepped off the airship, Yan Xianchuan felt the temperature change. It was autumn, but Nanjin was still sweltering like an oven; rain brought brief relief, but on dry days, moisture turned to steam, and the whole city became a steamer, baking people inside.

Lipeia was different—its coolness hit you right in the face.

Yan Xianchuan checked the weather: eighteen degrees C, and that was indoors.

They were still in short sleeves. Lu Mingqiu pointed to the lounge. "Let's get our jackets out and put them on, or we'll be cold outside."

Sure enough, once they put on jackets and stepped out, Yan Xianchuan nearly got knocked over by the wind.

Glancing around, others were bent over, clutching their clothes, moving against the wind like ascetics.

Lu Mingqiu had had the foresight to tie her hair up. She raised her voice over the wind: "Told you it'd be cold."