Every event in life is merely a re-enactment of the past, offering little of note and, for the most part, proving rather unremarkable.
The plaza opposite the hotel was nameless, though it had once been known simply as ‘Municipal Plaza’.
The plaza was embraced on three sides by towering mountain walls. This site, once a bustling mine, had been abandoned as its rich mineral veins dwindled. Following extensive backfilling by the local government, portions of the hollowed-out mountainside were repurposed to house the governmental institutions of Sixty-One Workers City, while the open expanse cradled by the peaks was meticulously transformed into a public plaza.
Though the notion of government agencies operating from within a mine shaft might strike one as peculiar, even undignified, for an institution dedicated to serving its citizens, its physical location ultimately held no bearing on its capacity to fulfill its essential duties.
Indeed, the local populace took considerable pride in their unconventional government building. As the sole governmental body on Vega established within a mine shaft, it had, over time, even evolved into a rather popular tourist attraction.
Following Xuanji Star’s occupation of Sixty-One Workers City, a statue of Long Xiao was erected in the plaza. However, they chose not to continue utilizing the pre-existing mine shaft for government offices. Instead, a new government building was constructed diagonally across from the plaza—the reason it wasn’t built directly opposite, rumor had it, was due to considerations of Feng Shui.
Despite Xuanji Star’s frequent assertions of its ‘modernity,’ it held an unusually strong regard for ancient Feng Shui theories. Consequently, many of its seemingly illogical urban plans were, in fact, dictated by these very principles.
They would never countenance using a mine shaft—a location so detrimental to their carefully cultivated image—as an administrative hub. Thus, from the moment of Xuanji Star’s occupation, the mine had exclusively functioned as an armory. It was only on the eve of the territorial exchange that vast quantities of munitions were finally moved, leaving the cavern now utterly deserted.
While the area was now freely accessible, Xuanji Star had prudently installed warning signs at numerous entrances. These signs cautioned that the mine’s interior was an intricate labyrinth, making it alarmingly easy to become disoriented, and explicitly stated that all who entered did so at their own peril.
Yet, these warnings were primarily intended for the former inhabitants; the Independent Observation Group, however, evidently considered themselves exempt. Polaris, for instance, brazenly disregarded the cautionary signs, setting up a lively barbecue deep within the cavern…
It was a scene reminiscent of two days prior, only this time the festivities had relocated from Worldly Affairs City to Sixty-One Workers City. Witnessing them virtually engulfed in plumes of smoke, one couldn’t help but harbor genuine concerns about potential carbon monoxide poisoning…
Only Ke Yiyi possessed such a compassionate heart; to the other academies, it was merely a spectacle, akin to observing a troupe of anthropoids attempting to mimic human grandeur.
Polaris suffered from an abysmal reputation, wielding virtually no international voice or influence outside the realms of politics and military affairs. Their public discourse consisted almost entirely of outrageous pronouncements that elicited widespread ridicule, coupled with boorish, uncultured grandstanding—making them practically indistinguishable from uneducated barbarians. Consequently, Polaris’s propaganda films and various materials, including videos, audio, and even literary works, were strictly prohibited from dissemination within many academies. External perceptions of Polaris rarely extended beyond the official narratives propagated by other academies and the sensationalized caricatures found in popular pulp fiction.
To such an extent that in the eyes of many academy citizens, Polaris was perceived as a collection of barbarians only recently introduced to civilization. It was assumed they not only lacked any concept of carbon monoxide poisoning but likely didn’t even know what carbon monoxide itself was.
Amidst these myriad outlandish and preposterous rumors, the people of Polaris territory were painted as exceptionally indolent, content to simply sow their fields and then recline, idly awaiting the autumn harvest. Their society, it was claimed, was devoid of propriety and shame; men and women engaged in casual coupling openly on the streets, with even close relatives and friends being no exception. Moral depravity, such as liaisons between grandfathers and granddaughters or sons and mothers, was reportedly commonplace. The populace allegedly suffered from a dire lack of clothing and food, consuming anything with legs, and their scant attire was reminiscent of a primitive society, utterly lacking any sense of right or wrong. There were no political parties, no elections; the Polaris Dean was revered as a living deity by his people, leading a life of unbridled extravagance. He was said to consume a hundred dishes daily, openly indulge in licentiousness, wantonly exploit underage females, and reside in a resplendent golden palace where even the toilets were fashioned from solid gold. His greatest pastime, both day and night, was supposedly the random selection of individuals for execution by firing squad, while criminals were met with cannon fire. He was, by all accounts, worshipped ceaselessly…
The official observers from these academies, being worldly and discerning, naturally saw through such preposterous, populace-brainwashing rumors. If Polaris were truly as depicted, how could they have possibly triumphed in a world war? How could they have successively conquered Xuliang Star, Canshang Star, Hegu Star, and Yaoguang Star to ascend as one of the Eastern Continent’s three dominant powers? Nevertheless, they felt no inclination to clarify anything on Polaris’s behalf, instead finding a perverse satisfaction in Polaris’s various aberrant behaviors. The more dysfunctional such an anti-human regime became, the less of a threat it posed to the wider world—and fortunately, Polaris currently confined its ravages to the Eastern Continent, targeting only the Blaze Clan. This presented a minimal threat to the other academies; after all, the Blaze Clan was numerous, and the slaughter of hundreds of millions was deemed inconsequential. Everyone, it seemed, delighted in witnessing the Eastern Continent’s Blaze Clan tear itself apart. Once this most populous ethnicity in the world had completely collapsed and fractured, it would forever cease to pose any threat to the peoples of other academies…
For reasons unknown, Enfinietta found herself gripped by an unusual curiosity about the mine shaft today, a desire to delve within and explore its depths. To ensure her safety, Gan Lan swiftly followed her. Ke Yiyi, after considerable deliberation, felt a persistent unease and decided to trail behind them as well. Shortly after Ke Yiyi departed, Li Yuyi also caught up, joining the impromptu expedition…
The four individuals proceeded in a single file through the mine shaft, their path illuminated by powerful flashlights and guided by a meticulously detailed map, ensuring they did not lose their way.
The mine’s interior proved astonishingly complex; far from the simplistic, room-by-room layout one might envision, it was an immense, multi-layered subterranean network, its sheer scale utterly breathtaking.
This very mine marked the genesis of the city, with Sixty-One Workers City growing around it as its central hub. As the mineral deposits dwindled, the mine shafts were interconnected, forming an intricate, sprawling underground network that penetrated virtually every corner of the city, often even linking with subway lines and subterranean waterways.
Judging by the surviving remnants, it was clear that this subterranean realm once boasted not only sprawling underground commercial districts and vast shelters, but also subterranean power stations and a comprehensive array of infrastructure, truly akin to a hidden kingdom beneath the earth.
It was precisely for this reason that the guerrillas of Sixty-One Workers City were able to sustain a protracted urban warfare campaign. Even with Xuanji Star controlling the primary underground thoroughfares, the myriad hidden, smaller passages remained perpetually beyond their complete grasp. To effectively seal off these minor conduits would demand an exorbitant amount of manpower. Moreover, the entirety of the city was constructed atop this intricate subterranean network; any attempt at large-scale demolition risked widespread partial collapse, which would inflict substantial damage upon Xuanji Star’s vital wartime industrial production. Conversely, undertaking small-scale demolition projects would involve an unprecedented amount of work, for the sheer number of these underground passages was far from a mere few thousand or tens of thousands…
In the aftermath of the war, Xuanji Star systematically damaged and sealed off sections of the underground network, striving to quell any lingering guerrilla resistance. As time wore on, the number of resistance fighters steadily dwindled. Beyond Xuanji Star’s blockades, the territorial shifts precipitated by the truce between Vega and Xuanji Star had also deprived these individuals of their very *raison d’être*—for, by the new territorial divisions, they were now citizens of Xuanji Star, no longer of Vega.
Perhaps Xuanji Star’s decision to abandon this site stemmed from reasons beyond its unsuitability for the government’s status. It might also have encompassed concerns such as ‘the government agencies of Sixty-One Workers City being too intimately interconnected with all parts of the city, thereby compromising security and protection’.
“Enfinietta, why did you choose to come here?”
Ke Yiyi examined the walls of the underground network. They were not merely rough, primordial rock faces, but had been meticulously polished and adorned, clearly indicating a former, more significant purpose for this particular section. Throughout their journey, some tunnels had retained their raw, unworked mine shaft appearance, flanked by barren rock walls, evidently serving no function beyond emergency routes. Yet, other passages had undergone various degrees of reinforcement and widening, suggesting they had served different pre-war purposes, perhaps as shelters or similar facilities.
Enfinietta remained silent, her gaze fixed on the map as she continued to navigate their path.
The map she held was no ordinary civilian chart, but a military-grade document laden with classified information. Its markings revealed that the underground network extended far beyond a mere few layers; certain areas boasted even deeper, more concealed passages…
Enfinietta’s brow furrowed in concentration. She halted her steps, intently scrutinizing the map clutched in her hand.
Gan Lan directed her flashlight beam onto the map, and the others clustered around, their eyes tracing its intricate lines.
“If we intend to reach this point, which path should we take?”
Enfinietta’s finger landed on an unmarked region—one of many such blank spaces on the map. From their previous experiences, these areas typically comprised empty, desolate shelters. The others found themselves perplexed by Enfinietta’s objective in seeking out such a place.
“I’ll give it a try.”
Li Yuyi lifted his flashlight, illuminating the way as he led them down a branching passage.
He paused, then turned to offer a supplementary remark.
“Still, don’t place all your hopes on me. Should I lead us astray, I hope you’ll forgive the error.”
“No matter. Any offer of assistance is always welcome.”
Enfinietta deactivated her watch’s illumination, falling in behind Li Yuyi. The small group then vanished into the labyrinthine depths of the underground network.
Before the war, this place had been amply lit. However, with the abandonment of the subterranean network, the lighting fixtures had fallen into disrepair, their bulbs long since failed. Only an occasional, flickering light now cast an unsettling, spectral glow, capable of startling any unsuspecting passerby.
Numerous sections had long since collapsed from years of neglect. The air hung heavy with the pervasive odor of dampness and mold, while stagnant pools of water spread across the floor. Occasionally, the unsettling sound of dripping water or the faint scuttling of small rodents would break the oppressive silence.
Enfinietta meticulously wrapped her ‘Zero-Intellin’ tablet, safeguarding it against any errant drops of water.
What proved rather surprising was that, for a research scientist, she exhibited not the slightest aversion to the squalid surroundings, nor any fear of the pervasive darkness. Even as her pristine white socks accumulated streaks of black grime, she remained utterly unfazed, boldly leading the group. This demeanor stood in stark contrast to the rigid, doctrinaire stereotype of a researcher, perpetually confined to a laboratory, spouting technical jargon.
When the group finally encountered a collapsed passage, rendering further progress impossible, they had no choice but to halt. Their journey, it seemed, had reached its definitive end.
Enfinietta let out a helpless sigh. It was the first time Ke Yiyi had witnessed her display such profound disappointment, yet this despondency was but a fleeting shadow, quickly dispelled as Enfinietta regained her composure.
Her original intention had simply been to help a colleague locate their former workplace. Now, it was clear that the site was irretrievable, buried deep beneath the rubble of the recent collapse.
The group, having achieved nothing, began their retreat, with Li Yuyi once again taking the lead.
Though he possessed no intimate familiarity with the place, he appeared decidedly more experienced than the other three—for he had, in fact, been here before…
During the war, to be precise…