Chapter 24 The Pulse That Waits

The Elite Riders run into Tiantan like a storm of steel and determination. Their arrival paints the air with the colours of urgency and resolve. General Vanguard leads them, his armour still bearing the scars of recent battle, his mind sharp as the blades at his sides.

At first, the young general’s heart sinks with the terrible thought that they have arrived too late. They expect the howls of Yaoguais, the desperate cries of a town under siege. Instead, they are met with something far more unexpected—the sound of cheering.

Not screams. Not panic.

Cheers.

The kind of sound that echoes through the soul like morning bells, carrying with it the weight of gratitude and the lightness of hope.

The townsfolk spill into the streets like a dam breaking, their faces a tapestry of exhaustion and joy. Faces Vanguard does not know, yet lifting hands and voices in a chorus of gratitude that seems to fill the very air with light.

“Look, the Elite Riders!”

“They saved us!”

“Is he the General Vanguard?”

The words dance around him like autumn leaves caught in a gentle wind, each one carrying the weight of a hundred prayers answered. Vanguard and the Riders step forward slowly, lowering their weapons, still processing the impossibility of what they are seeing.

His armour hisses as it disengages. Ash still clings to the plates like shadows refusing to let go, and his legs ache from the last fight with a pain that speaks of battles fought and won. He hasn’t had time to feel any of it until now, until this moment of stillness in the eye of the storm.

The townsfolk bow before him. A few weep openly, their tears catching the light like morning dew. One old man, his face lined with the wisdom of years and the fear of recent minutes, lowers himself to the ground to bow to the Riders.

“The Yaoguais were everywhere; we thought they’ll devour us all,” the old man weeps, his voice trembling with the memory of terror and now gratitude. He looks up at the General with eyes that hold the kind of reverence reserved for the divine. “Thank you for saving us all.”

“Thank you, General. Thank you, Elite Riders.” The townsfolk follow to kneel and bow.

“Please, good people of Tiantan, it is our honour to serve.” Vanguard returns his bow to the old man. He helps the old man up with his arms, gestures the townsfolk to do the same, and guides him back to his family.

Around him, his Riders exchange glances that carry the weight of unspoken questions. No one has drawn a weapon since their arrival, for there is no enemy to face. There are no casualties scattered across the ground, only debris from a battle fought and won.

Just wreckage.

And traces of something immense. Something that speaks of power beyond human understanding, beyond the scope of the Riders’ might and mortal courage.

“General,” Captain Chen murmurs beside him, his voice carrying the weight of careful observation. “No further signs of Yaoguai activity. But the ground…”

Vanguard nods, his eyes as fluid as water flowing over stone, and scans the earth with the observation of one who has battled years against the supernatural.

“Captain, get the Riders to lead the people back home, and ensure their safety.” Vanguard orders quietly. “Then secure the scene and contain the perimeters.”

Captain Chen nods, and announces: “Kind people of Tiantan, let us help you back home to safety. Riders, check if anyone’s hurt, ensure everyone’s together with their families!”

The Riders salute and proceed to walk with the townsfolk, the air mixed with exhaustion, relief, and now excitement—especially from the children. Captain Chen remains stoicly by the battle scene, as Vanguard crouches down to examine the wreckage.

The soil tells a story of its own. It is cratered, blackened in places, bearing the scars of forces that have passed through like a firestorm. Traces of Black Husk Soldiers’ broken fragments, ripped Fox Spirit fur, and lumps of scattered Rock Guai remains.

“The craters… the way this Rock Guai has been burst open… I’ve never seen this magnitude from any CelestCore nor Shadow powers…” The General observes the scene and ponders. “It’s like the Yaoguai’s just… exploded… It doesn’t make sense.”

The question hangs in the air like a sword suspended by a single thread, its weight felt by the two men witnessing the mystery.

“Captain Chen,” Vanguard calls, “what do you make of this?”

Captain Chen snaps from the same confoundment, as if waking from a dream. He crouches beside the General, touching the earth, then stands to survey the flattened granary, the way the destruction seems to follow no pattern he recognises.

“Sir,” Chen says slowly, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of military experience, “I’ve fought against the East, South, and then Yaoguais as an Elite Rider. I’ve seen all kinds of CelestCore and Shadow powers… but this…” He gestures at the cratered ground, then traces the Rock Guai’s head and limbs at different sides of the town—the impossible devastation. “This is something else entirely.”

“Something else saved this place…” the General muses, the realisation settling over him like a cloak of truth.

“General?”

“Well done, Captain. You fought valiantly.” Vanguard turns and pats on Chen’s shoulder, his voice carrying the authority of command and the warmth of camaraderie. “I shall report to the Emperor your bravery today.”

“Thank you, Sir. What are your next orders?”

“Captain, organise aid distribution. See to the wounded first, then assess what supplies the town needs, so we can procure them from the nearest garrison urgently.”

“Understood, General.”

“Sworn Rider Jiang!” Vanguard calls to the younger Rider. “Light the lanterns. Once you have helped the townsfolk, watch the post for any further hostilities.”

“Yes, Sir!” Jiang salutes and moves with the eagerness of youth.

As the Riders disperse to their tasks, Vanguard moves through the town with methodical purpose. His trained eyes catalogue everything—the pattern of destruction, the Yaoguai’s remains, the way the earth itself seems to remember something impossible.

He finds himself before a collapsed building, its structure reduced to splinters and memories. A man kneeling before the debris, sobbing quietly.

“NUMBER… T… WO…” Vanguard squints his eyes at the sign on the ground. “Why’s this man lamenting to this collapsed public toilet?”

“Excuse me,” Vanguard approaches, his voice carrying the respect he shows all citizens. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“General! My inn… my beautiful inn…” The man looks up, recognition dawning in his tear-streaked face, and gestures helplessly at the wreckage. “A customer paid with a crystal, I can’t find it in this wreckage. Oh, my livelihood!”

“Oh, your inn… right…” Vanguard’s interest sharpens. “So, this crystal, what kind of crystal?”

“A pink one, your honour. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Glowed like it was alive. A monk from the Western Golden Orders paid with it.”

“A monk from the West, you say?” Without hesitation, Vanguard uses his gauntlets to resonate with CelestCore energy. Moving slowly through the debris, at first nothing registers—just the residual energy from his own armour and that of his Riders.

Then, at the corner of his eye, a glow catches his attention.

He moves two collapsed boards aside, their wood splintered and crushed. There, jammed between the wreckage, a pink spark shines through brighter than the stars.

Vanguard reaches down and picks up the crystal. It fits in his palm, no larger than a cherry blossom petal, yet it radiates warmth that seems to pulse with its own rhythm. His gauntlet’s scanner should detect CelestCore signals, but this crystal is beyond his armour’s comprehension.

But more than that, it feels alive.

Not just warm. Not just glowing.

Alive.

Like a heartbeat captured in crystal, like something that breathes and remembers and waits.

“General! You found it!” The innkeeper jumps with joy, then kowtows like a woodpecker. “Thank you! Thank you! My livelihood! I can rebuild my inn!”

Vanguard studies the crystal, turning it over in his fingers. The pink light seems to respond to his touch, pulsing gently, as if aware of his presence.

“Mr Innkeeper,” Vanguard says, his voice carrying both authority and kindness, “do you understand that this is CelestCore, and therefore it must be in the hands of the officials.”

The innkeeper’s face falls, but he nods with the resignation of one who surrenders to the Imperial Law. “Of course, General. It’s an honour that a peasant like me could offer something for the Empire.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Vanguard reaches into his pouch and takes out his emolument. “I won’t leave you empty-handed. Here—this should help you rebuild your… inn.”

The innkeeper falls to the ground and kowtows again, gratitude and relief mixing in his voice.

“Please, at ease, at ease, good Innkeeper.” Vanguard continues, his tone that of a careful investigator. “Tell me about the customer who gave you this crystal.”

“Ah yes, yes!” The innkeeper complies eagerly. “Two peculiar customers from out of town. A tall Golden Order Monk from the West. A soft voice behind the mask, a nun perhaps? Travelling with a girl from the North.”

“A monk from the Western Kingdoms? That’s ten thousand li away. No one from the Golden Order has visited Tiantan since Tiantan’s flood.” The General ponders. “And why would a monk travel with a Northerner girl? They’re continents apart.”

“Do you know what business they had in Tiantan?”

The innkeeper shakes his head. “They didn’t say, General, I thought the pilgrimage’s back. They just paid for a room. Then the Yaoguais came. Never saw them again.”

Vanguard thanks the innkeeper and wishes him well, then steps away from the wreckage and puts the pink crystal into his pouch.

His thoughts hang unfinished in his mind, a question too profound to complete. What force saved this village? What is this crystal that exists beyond Heartland CelestCore, beyond mortal understanding? Who are these two customers from different continents? Are they all connected?

He wants to investigate this. He needs to find answers. He must understand what happened here, and who—or what—possesses power of this magnitude.

But then—

“General!” Rider Jiang’s voice cuts through his thoughts, urgent and concerned. The young Rider approaches with two girls in tow—their faces streaked with tears, their eyes wide with panic.

“General Vanguard, sir,” Jiang says quickly, “These girls are looking for their friend. They can’t find her anywhere.”

“Please, General!” Ailin steps forward, her voice trembling as she bows. “Our friend Tutu was with us during the attack. We were all together until I passed out, and then… we can’t find her. She’s gone!”

Lanshu nods frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We’ve searched everywhere in town. She’s not with the other families. No one’s seen her.”

Vanguard’s mind races. The investigation can wait. The crystal can wait. The mystery of what saved this village can wait.

Civilians matter more.

“Don’t worry, good maidens, we’ll help you find your friend.” Vanguard reassures them. “What are your names?”

“Thank you, General.” Lanshu bows. “My name is Bai Lanshu.”

“And I am Wu Ailin.”

“Jiang,” Vanguard’s voice carries the authority of immediate command, “take Maiden Bai and search through the town. Check every building, uncover every debris. Make sure no one is left behind.”

“Yes, Sir!” Jiang salutes and turns to Lanshu. “Please Maiden Bai, show me around your town. We’ll find her.”

“Maiden Wu,” Vanguard addresses the other girl, his tone gentle but firm, “where does your friend live? Perhaps she has headed home?”

“The Gongsun homestead,” Ailin says quickly, pointing toward the woods beyond the town. “It’s through the forest, down the hills.”

“Then we’ll search the path to the Gongsun homestead,” Vanguard says. “Please lead the way. We’ll find your friend, and I can check on the Gongsuns too.”

Ailin nods, relief and fear mixing in her expression.

The crystal still feels alive in his pouch, a question that will not let go, its gentle pulse a constant reminder of unanswered questions.

Just not now.

First, he must ensure that every life is accounted for.

He must find Tutu.