A girl in a red coat stood under the streetlight, its glow casting light on her somewhat petite frame, while shadows danced around her feet.
Hidden within these shadows were pairs of watchful and inquisitive eyes—one of which caught sight of an approaching “outsider.” This made the girl in the red coat instantly notice Yu Sheng and his group.
“Sorry, the taxi took a bit longer,” Yu Sheng waved to her, “Have you been waiting long?”
“Just a few minutes,” the girl in the red coat replied casually, turning her head aside, “I’ve already sent my wolf to scout the area. Nothing unusual reported, so today the ‘museum’ should be stable. It’s a good day for action. By the way, did you read through the materials I gave you?”
“I did.” Yu Sheng nodded, following her gaze to the large building that stood quietly in the night.
Yet, it wasn’t a “museum”; it was an old theater that had been closed to the public many years ago—though the entrance to this so-called “museum” lay within that very theater.
“After the ‘Museum Night’ opens, do not touch the exhibits that emit breathing sounds, do not maintain long eye contact with human-like paintings, and do not enter the red room.
If you see plastic mannequins in guide uniforms, pay attention to their gestures, and avoid entering any door they indicate or suggest—there are really only a few rules to watch out for,” the girl in red instructed with a hint of concern, “The museum is a relatively stable foreign realm.
Its depth usually stays around L-2. As long as you follow the rules, its inherent dangers are manageable, so the danger level is rated as second tier…”
Listening to her repetitive instructions, Yu Sheng couldn’t help but think of the “entry materials” he had seen in the encyclopedic resources he had consulted while familiarizing himself with “border communications” at the Special Task Agency.
Those resources were perhaps his greatest gain after registering with the agency—an organized set of foundational information about the extraordinary world, including knowledge about the “depth” and “danger level” of foreign realms, which he had heard about from Li Lin and Xu Jiali but had never fully understood.
Depth, simply put, refers to the “degree of deviation” of a foreign realm from the real world, with the real world considered as zero level.
Depth increasing from zero to five indicates increasing foreign characteristics.
An L-1 realm might just appear slightly odd, and ordinary people could accidentally wander into it, while an L-5 realm is one where survival is nearly impossible aside from exceedingly rare survival cases, and even experts cannot confirm whether L-5 realms have real “exits.”
Typically, the depth of a foreign realm remains relatively stable but may exhibit minor fluctuations due to time or specific conditions.
Exploring a realm with shallower depth is usually the safer choice, while sudden changes in depth are the leading cause of demise for many spiritual world detectives and investigators.
The danger level is another important parameter for measuring threats from foreign realms.
In most cases, the danger level is directly proportional to the depth of the realm—the shallower the realm, the safer it is; the deeper it is, the more perilous it becomes.
However, there are exceptions—some shallow realms can generate particularly terrifying entities, and even some L-3 realms (generally considered high-risk) may contain stable safe zones.
Because of these exceptions, danger level and depth have become independent parameters.
Additionally, danger level can assess the threat level of “entities” on their own.
The group walked toward the entrance of the old theater.
“To be honest, according to the rules, I shouldn’t be taking a ‘newcomer’ like you into a L-2 foreign realm like this museum. Most spiritual world detectives and investigators start from L-1 since shallower realms are more stable and easier to retreat from,” the girl in red said as they walked, “But you can’t be considered an ordinary ‘newbie’—you managed to handle the Nightshade Valley, so aside from lacking experience and knowledge, your strength is already above the standard.”
“It’s not a big deal; we’re here to gain experience,” Yu Sheng said nonchalantly, glancing curiously at the girl next to him, “By the way, I suddenly feel… you seem quite accustomed to taking care of others?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You usually seem mature and aloof, but once you start working, you ramble about so many things, especially when guiding us ‘rookies,’ like a parent leading a group.”
The girl in red paused for a few seconds, her expression somewhat subtle.
Yet she didn’t respond, just scrunching her lips before continuing onward.
“You understand the concepts of depth and danger level, right?” she broke the silence after a few steps.
“I get it; in simpler terms, depth refers to ‘how strange this place is,’ and danger level indicates ‘how deadly this place or thing can be,’” Yu Sheng waved his hand, “It’s pretty easy to understand.”
“That’s a rough understanding… but it’s quite illustrative,” the girl nodded, “The depth of the museum is L-2, which is a ‘standard’ foreign realm depth. It shows very obvious differences from the real world; the environment itself begins to warp, making it quite dangerous for ordinary people. However, overall, the spaces inside still adhere to ‘common sense’ and human perception and logic, so as long as we stick to the rules, nothing should go wrong…”
Before she could finish, Yu Sheng interjected, “A danger level of 2 means that it won't cause death actively, and it doesn’t possess malevolent intent, but not following the rules could still lead to serious injuries or even death—right?”
“That’s right; you remember well, so I’m not worried,” she replied casually, then halted.
They had now entered the old theater’s entrance, and beyond the slightly ajar old iron gate lay a hall with dark green floor tiles.
Corridors led into the theater on both sides, while directly in front of the entrance were several dark ticket windows.
However, Yu Sheng’s attention quickly fell to a curious apparatus sitting in the center of the hall.
It was a black, gray metal prism, wider at the base and narrower at the top, roughly the height of a person.
Its top had several dimming lights, and from within came a low, intermittent buzzing sound, clearly indicating it was in operation.
“This is placed by the Special Task Agency; we call this a ‘node,’ its full name is ‘Constant Node Generator,’” the girl pointed at the metal prism, “The low-frequency cognitive interference it emits can keep ordinary people away from known dangerous areas within the boundary zones. The effect is actually quite weak but sufficient to deter those who haven’t awakened spirituality.”
“…Are there many of these things in this city?” Yu Sheng looked at the device known as the “node” in wonder, “I’ve never noticed…”
The girl shot him a glance, wanting to say, “Because you were an ordinary person before, so you wouldn’t have approached this thing at all,” but she swallowed her words.
Even she felt that the fox beside them had more awareness than Yu Sheng…
“How effective is it? Can it really stop ordinary people?” Yu Sheng asked curiously.
“The effect is decent, but no safety measure can guarantee a hundred percent interception.
Even if you seal this place with reinforced concrete, some will still come equipped with hydraulic pliers and power drills to self-destruct,” the girl sighed, “There will always be reckless or particularly gifted individuals who, despite feeling dizzy and experiencing cramps in their calves, are determined to ‘explore,’ or simply unlucky souls whose natural instinct is high and unaffected by the node.
So we often have unfortunate cases falling into foreign realms waiting for us to rescue them—they either end up as the payment for spiritual world detectives and investigators or become cautionary tales within the Special Task Agency’s notifications.
In a few rare cases, they might even become new detectives, investigators, or Special Task personnel after undergoing grueling experiences and receiving psychological treatment.”
“Why not just tear this place down?” the fox beside them suddenly asked.
“Tear it down? That would be quite the fun,” the girl knew the fox lacked knowledge in this area, so she simply shrugged in exasperation, “What you’d be destroying is just an already identified ‘entry point.’ The foreign realm itself doesn’t exist in the real dimension. If you tear down a known and controllable entry, no one would know where it might open next time.”
Hearing the girl’s explanation, Yu Sheng felt a sense of realization; it truly seemed that self-destruction was a human instinct that couldn’t be stopped…
Meanwhile, the girl stepped forward to the “node,” swiping her identification card across its top.
“This registers entry and exit information,” she turned back to show Yu Sheng her document, “Just in case something happens inside, the recovery team will know where to find us. Once you enter a foreign realm, all external communications generally get cut off. Registering at the node is the last stop for spiritual world detectives and investigators to leave a trace in the real world.”
Seeing this, Yu Sheng, along with Ai Lin and Hu Li, stepped forward to register as well, all while lamenting, “Thank goodness I got them registered…”
A faint buzzing sound emanated from the node.
Then, the girl in red led Yu Sheng and the others past the “node,” reaching the end of the hall.
She paused in front of the dark ticket windows.
The long-abandoned old theater meant that all the ticket windows were likewise defunct.
Out of the four windows, two were covered with crisscrossing plastic barriers, and of the remaining two windows, one was empty, filled only with unwanted clutter; the other still housed a ticket machine—now coated in dust.
The girl in red halted in front of the window with the ticket machine and checked the time on her phone.
After two or three minutes, she suddenly reached out and tapped on the glass of the ticket window.
“Night session, Museum Night, four tickets.”
Suddenly lights flickered into the empty ticket window—despite the broken lights, a warm, bright glow filled the dusty little compartment.
It was as if a ghostly ticket seller, forgotten in time and memory, still sat behind that window.
The old ticket machine creaked as the empty paper feed turned round and round, beginning to spit out admission tickets.
(End of Chapter)