Chương 62: Backdrop

The communicator was still vibrating.

"Rowan! Where the hell are you?!"

"Don't tell me you ran off to the black market again?!" Rowan did not reply at once. First, he took off his mage robe, quickly cleaned the mud left on the cuffs and soles of his boots, then sprayed the inner lining of his coat with a cheap deodorizing mist. He stuffed the return outer-ring tag from Antler Camp into the hidden compartment in the corner of the wall, but kept the Gray Deer Concealment Talisman Plaque on him. That thing was small, and its fluctuations were faint. He could bring it.

The thing he absolutely could not mix up was something else. Rowan crouched down and lifted a loose sheet of iron beneath the bed board. Under the iron sheet was a flat shockproof case. Inside, two recording crystal disks lay quietly. The first disk was darker in color. Along its edge were the encrypted traces Grey Raven had originally left behind. That was the complete version. The Flesh Armament Art. Rowan's gaze lingered on that disk for a breath. Then he looked at the second one beside it.

The shell of the second crystal disk looked very similar to the first. Unless someone compared the underlying indexes section by section, it would be difficult to tell the difference at first glance. But the contents inside had already been processed. The Tier 1 Flesh Armament Art was retained. The opening section of Tier 2 was retained. Several tempting flesh armament patterns, blood-storage structures, and exoskeletal load-bearing formulas were also retained.

But starting from the middle section of Tier 2, every index, jump link, steganographic marker, and fragmentary technique related to the Flesh Loom had been erased by him. Rowan lightly pressed the edge of the redacted crystal disk with the pad of his finger. He was not sure how much the organization behind Grey Raven actually knew. If they already knew about the Flesh Loom, then this disk was a flaw. If they did not, then this disk was the mission item.

At the very least, it could make the other party believe that "Grey Raven" was still delivering the item according to the original plan. Rowan pressed the complete version back into the bottom of the case, closed the shockproof case again, and pushed it deep into the hidden compartment. As for the redacted crystal disk, he placed it inside the interlayer of an ordinary disk folder. From the outside, the interlayer contained nothing more than a few offline data disks commonly used by students.

Only after finishing all of this did he pick up the communicator.

"I'm almost there." Rad replied almost instantly.

"You'd better actually be almost there!" … When Rowan rushed to the street corner, a grey-white magitech shuttle bus was already parked there. A temporary sign was pasted on the side of the vehicle: [Starlight Tower · Event Staff Shuttle] Under the sign was another line of small text. [Please complete identity verification before roster confirmation. Late arrivals will be automatically disqualified.] Rad was standing beside the door, his face so dark it looked as if he had just crawled out of a pollution discharge pipe.

"Do you know what time it is?" Rowan glanced at the time.

"I'm not late yet."

"You want to wait until they slam the door in your face before it counts as late?" Rad grabbed him and dragged him onto the bus. There were already more than a dozen people sitting inside. Most of them were young Transcendents around their age. Some wore school uniform jackets that had been washed until they had gone pale; some had deliberately changed into clean shirts; others had combed their hair with excessive neatness, as if they were about to interview for some position that could change their lives.

The inner wall of the shuttle bus kept playing event reminders. [Staff must maintain a neat appearance.] [Unauthorized filming of exhibits is strictly prohibited.] [Actively approaching distinguished guests is strictly prohibited.] [Entering unauthorized floors is strictly prohibited.] [Violators will be transferred by event security to the Upper District public security system.] The driver was a broad-faced middle-aged man with an unlit synthetic cigarette dangling from his mouth.

He glanced at Rowan through the rearview mirror and snorted.

"Last one. Half a minute later, and I would've left." Rad pulled Rowan down into the back row.

"Thanks, Uncle Ke."

"Don't thank me." The driver turned the steering wheel.

"Thank the roster verification system for not kicking you two out yet." The shuttle bus slowly left the lower-level street corner. Outside the window, pipes, neon lights, exhaust fumes, and hanging cables slid backward. After sitting down, Rowan first steadied his breathing. Rad stared at him for a few seconds.

"Where did you go?" Rowan answered, "Had something to deal with."

"You'd better have. Any later and I really would've left without you." The others in the vehicle were also talking. Two girls in the front row were whispering about whether the service uniforms at Starlight Tower would be ugly. Beside them, a tall, thin boy sat with his arms folded, his expression not looking very good. His clothes were very clean. There was not a single wrinkle at the collar. His shoes had been polished until they shone.

Placed against the scratches, oil stains, and old chewing-gum residue on the carriage floor, he looked especially out of place. Rad leaned over for a look and whispered, "Who's that guy?"

"Don't know."

"Doesn't look like someone short on two thousand Terra Credits." Rowan glanced at the boy. The tall, thin boy seemed to notice the gaze and immediately turned his face toward the window, as if unwilling to let others see that he was sitting in the same vehicle as this group of temporary waiters. The bus headed toward the Upper District. The closer they got to the upper levels, the wider the streets became, the fewer exposed pipelines there were, and the steadier the blue glow from the air filtration towers grew.

Someone in the bus suddenly asked, "Is this art exhibition really that impressive? Isn't it just a Vanguard Art Exhibition hosted by the Starlight Consortium?" The driver let out a laugh through his nose.

"If it weren't impressive, why do you think Starlight Tower would temporarily recruit young Transcendents at Tier 1 and above as service staff? You need to check a crystal core grade just to serve drinks?" The person who had asked was immediately choked silent. Rad's interest was instantly piqued.

"Uncle Ke, you know something from the inside?" The driver shifted the unlit cigarette away from the corner of his mouth.

"You think anyone can just be the driver for this job?" Someone in the front row leaned over.

"Tell us." The driver watched the road ahead, his tone lazy.

"On the surface, this is the Starlight Consortium's Vanguard Art Exhibition. The organizer is Lydia Hill, a new-school curator from the Starlight Consortium."

"Hill?" Someone immediately reacted.

"The daughter of that Tier 3 Soul-Nexus Archmage?" The sounds in the carriage instantly dropped. Tier 3. Soul-Nexus. Those two words carried a natural weight in the Seventh Abyssal Hive. Teachers in schools, full-fledged mages in the Association, and the underhive bosses who propped themselves up with prosthetics and external slots could all be discussed, mocked, and haggled over. But a Soul-Nexus Mage was different. A Tier 3 Mage was no longer a powerhouse in the ordinary sense.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. That was someone who could truly change the structure of an entire region. The driver grinned.

"The daughter is only the person on stage. The one who really made all those Upper District lords run over is her father, Edwin Hill."

"Wasn't Master Hill supposed to return to the Seventh Abyssal Hive for retirement?" a girl asked. The driver laughed. It was a very light laugh, but it carried obvious mockery.

"Retirement?" He asked in return, "If he were really retiring in glory, would he come back to the Seventh Abyssal Hive?" The carriage went quiet for a moment. The driver continued, "Sector 3 has cloud sanatoriums. Sector 2 has military-exclusive medical pods. The capital circle even has pollution-free domes and private floating gardens. If someone really has money and power, would he come back to the Seventh Abyssal Hive in his old age to smell mine slag?"

The tall, thin boy frowned, as if he did not particularly like the driver's statement.

"Maybe it's nostalgia for his hometown," he said. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

"You can believe that if you want." Rad could not help asking, "So he's not retiring?" The driver did not answer immediately. The bus turned past a section of elevated road, and the lights of the Upper District floated out of the haze in the distance.

"People outside are saying Master Hill's project in the capital circle had its funding chain snap. Several laboratories shut down, partner consortiums withdrew their investment, a batch of students ran off, and the creditors are more enthusiastic than idol-chasing fans." Someone in the carriage sucked in a cold breath.

"Bankrupt?"

"Don't say that carelessly," the driver said.

"Publicly, it's called adjusting his research direction, returning to his homeland, and enjoying his twilight years." He paused.

"In plain language, he came back to look for money." Rad's eyes widened as he listened.

"A Tier 3 Soul-Nexus Archmage can run out of money too?" The driver looked as if he had heard some joke.

"You think Tier 3s live on air? Laboratories, students, computing power, materials, mana-stabilization pods—which one doesn't burn money? The bigger the figure, the faster the burn. If people like you from the bottom owe a hundred thousand, you get sent to the mines. If he owes a billion, other people still have to serve him wine and say, 'Master, you've worked hard.'" The tall, thin boy in the front row suddenly said, "But Master Hill is a Soul-Nexus Mage, after all.

As long as he's willing to take students, there will definitely be people willing to invest." The driver glanced at him.

"That's why tonight is lively." Rad asked, "What do you mean?" The driver said, "I heard there's a piece in the exhibition called The Boundless Martial Diagram. Some people say it contains the mental afterimages left behind when Master Hill was deducing combat systems." The people in the carriage immediately sat up straighter.

"Really?"

"Why would I care that much? Go see for yourselves later." The driver continued, "There's also a rumor that Master Hill might use this diagram to choose his final student this time after returning." Once those words came out, the atmosphere in the carriage visibly changed. The people who had still been laughing earlier grew quieter. Choosing a disciple. The disciple of a Tier 3 Soul-Nexus Archmage. Even if it was only a rumor, it was enough to make a group of young people around Tier 1 breathe more lightly.

The tall, thin boy's fingers subconsciously pressed against his knees, the joints faintly turning white. He quickly realized what he was doing, withdrew his hand, and pretended not to care as he straightened his cuff. Rad saw it. The corner of his mouth moved.

"You're nervous?" The tall, thin boy's expression stiffened.

"I'm only here to provide temporary etiquette assistance." Rad blinked.

"Etiquette assistance?"

"That's what the official notice called it." Rad thought for a moment.

"So isn't that still carrying trays?" Someone nearby almost laughed out loud. The tall, thin boy's face immediately flushed.

"I'm different from you people." After saying it, he himself realized something was wrong and immediately shut his mouth. The smile on Rad's face faded a little.

"Different how?" The tall, thin boy did not answer. He turned his head toward the window, his Adam's apple moving slightly. The driver gave a soft tsk but did not interrupt. Rowan glanced at the boy. He more or less understood. This person was not from the bottom. Nor did he believe he belonged to the bottom. But people who were truly from the upper levels would not be sitting on this staff shuttle. Rad was too lazy to keep bothering with him and leaned back into his seat.

"What's your name?" The tall, thin boy was silent for a moment.

"Noah."

"Which school?"

"Northwind Applied Magitech Academy." Rad gave an oh.

"A private school. Not bad." Noah's expression eased slightly, but he quickly realized Rad's words did not sound like a compliment, and his face tightened again. Rowan did not join their conversation. Starlight Tower was going to be very chaotic tonight. … Twenty minutes later, the bus drove into the outer edge of the Upper District. The view outside the window changed noticeably. There were no exposed pipelines on either side of the street, nor were there sewage ditches.

The walls were clean, the streetlights steady, and even the air carried a hint of carefully blended imitation plant fragrance. Through the window, Rowan saw an entire vertical green wall hanging down the exterior of a high-rise. The leaves swayed gently in the circulating wind, their roots embedded in transparent nutrient channels. Every drop of nutrient fluid was cleaner than ordinary coolant from the black markets of the Lower Hive. The bus continued forward. Starlight Tower soon appeared in view.

It was a silver-white high-rise, its outer facade like a cut crystal. Around the middle of the building, a ring-shaped platform extended outward, with enormous projections hanging from its edge. In the projection, a woman in a long white dress stood before an abstract screen of light. Behind her were lines, limbs, and combat afterimages that kept shifting form.

[Starlight Vanguard Art Exhibition] [The Body, Combat, and New Magitech Aesthetics] [Chief Curator: Lydia Hill] Below that was an even more eye-catching promotional line. [Special Exhibit: The Boundless Martial Diagram] The carriage fell silent again. Even after listening to the driver mock the event for half the ride, when they truly saw those projections, quite a few people still unconsciously straightened their backs. Rumors of a Tier 3 Soul-Nexus Archmage's bankruptcy were one thing.

Something left behind by a Tier 3 Soul-Nexus Archmage was another. The shuttle bus did not head toward the main entrance. It passed around the guest entrance at the front of Starlight Tower, where a silver carpet had been laid out, and turned into a narrower service lane on the side. A security array stood at the gate ahead. After the bus stopped, two floating scanner orbs slid over from both sides of the lane. Pale blue beams swept over the vehicle and the people inside. [Staff shuttle vehicle.] [Temporary roster verification in progress.] [Please disembark.] The door opened. Cold, clean air poured in. Rowan followed Rad off the bus. They had not taken more than two steps when a man in a black uniform was already waiting in front of the service entrance. The man appeared to be in his thirties. His hair was combed so neatly that not a single strand was out of place, and an event logistics supervisor badge hung on his chest. [Vann] His gaze swept over everyone's faces one by one.

"Everyone, line up. Identity terminal, Mage Association registration number, temporary employment confirmation code. All three will be checked. Miss one, and you leave immediately." No one spoke. Vann continued, "I don't care which school you come from, nor do I care whether you are full-fledged Tier 1. After entering Starlight Tower, you have only one identity: temporary service staff." He raised a hand and pointed toward the corridor beside him.

"The public exhibition floor is on the twelfth floor. Your work area today includes only the outer ring of the twelfth floor, the back-of-house food preparation area, and Service Corridor Three."

"The private preview area on the seventeenth floor is off-limits."

"The collection maintenance area on the twenty-first floor is off-limits."

"All floors above the twenty-third are internal floors. Do not approach them."

"Do not touch the VIP elevators."

"Freight elevators require authorization."

"During work hours, personal terminals will be rate-limited."

"Anyone who secretly films exhibits, actively approaches distinguished guests, or leaves their post for more than three minutes will be considered in breach of contract." He paused, and his voice grew colder.

"This is Starlight Tower, not your school training field. If you make a mistake, there will be no teacher here to plead for you." As Rowan listened to those floor numbers, his gaze shifted almost imperceptibly. The twelfth floor was the exhibition. The seventeenth floor was the private preview. The twenty-first floor was collection maintenance. The twenty-third floor and above were internal floors.

The handover information left by Grey Raven had only said: the end of the month, eighteen hundred, Starlight Tower, storage location to be confirmed on arrival. In other words, the real location was very likely not on the public exhibition floor. Vann soon began verifying the roster. Rad was in front of Rowan.

"Rad Cohen."

"Westpoint Magitech High School, Martial Artist candidate, temporary service number C-36." Rad pressed his palm onto the identification plate. The mana fluctuation of his crystal core was scanned, and his identification passed. Then it was Rowan's turn. Vann lowered his head and glanced at the list.

"Rowan Vance." Several people nearby looked up at him. Rowan placed his terminal on the identification platform and pressed his palm down. [Full-fledged Tier 1 Mage.] [Seventh Abyssal Hive Mage Association registration valid.] [Temporary service number C-39.] Vann looked at him.

"You are four minutes and twenty seconds late." Rowan said, "The roster hasn't closed yet." Vann's brow twitched. Rad's shoulders instantly tensed. A few seconds later, Vann looked away.

"Go in." Rowan withdrew his terminal. Noah was behind him. When verifying his identity, his movements were half a beat slower than everyone else's. Vann glanced at his confirmation code.

"Noah Bell. Northwind Applied Magitech Academy. Tier 1 Mage, Single-Phase. Wind element?" Noah immediately straightened a little.

"Yes." Vann looked at the screen.

"C-44. Outer ring, low-risk zone." Noah's expression stiffened slightly.

"I'm a full-fledged Tier 1." Vann raised his eyes and looked at him.

"I know." His voice had no fluctuation at all.

"The one thing we are least short of tonight is full-fledged Tier 1s." Noah's lips moved, but he failed to say anything.

"Next." Noah withdrew his terminal and walked into the corridor with his head lowered. … The changing area was inside the service entrance. The walls were grey-white metal, and the lighting was cold enough to feel devoid of temperature. Every temporary staff member was assigned a narrow locker. Inside hung a uniform. Black inner shirt. Dark grey waistcoat. Silver-edged cufflinks. A temporary service number on the chest. The outfit was actually not bad.

The fabric was sturdier than the coats worn by most people in the Lower Hive, the tailoring was clean, and it even had a faint anti-stain treatment. After Rad changed into it, he looked left and right.

"Not bad. Looks better than the school uniform." Noah stood in front of the mirror without moving. He looked at the C-44 number on his chest, and his face gradually turned pale. He kept feeling that after putting on this uniform, he had been branded with some kind of cheap label. The cuffs were clean. The buttons were bright. The fabric was even better than the coat he usually wore. But standing there, he felt like a clown.

Every gaze around him seemed to carry three parts contempt, as if everyone was looking at his collar, his sleeve badge, and the temporary service number on his chest. As if they were saying: So you can only stand here too. But in truth, no one was looking at him. Rad was checking whether the trouser legs would affect his exertion. Several girls were complaining that the soles of the shoes were too hard.

Someone was excitedly discussing whether they would be able to take a distant look at The Boundless Martial Diagram. As for Rowan, he stood beside his changing locker, confirming the depth of the uniform's inner pocket, the range of motion of the cuffs, the position of the temporary access badge, and the floor permissions displayed on the service terminal. Inside Starlight Tower, anyone who put on this outfit would automatically become part of the background. Guests would not remember their faces.

Security would not remember their names. Even the green wall in the lobby would draw more second glances than they would. Noah thought he had become a clown. In reality, he had only become part of the building. His presence was probably just slightly higher than the greenery. Rowan slipped the redacted crystal disk into the deepest part of the uniform's inner pocket. The pockets of this uniform were more convenient than he had expected.

Starlight Tower would not allow service staff to carry unregistered spatial containers, but a few ordinary recording disks would not attract attention. What he truly needed to guard against was not the entrance scan, but the targeted inspections that might appear later. Vann walked into the changing area and clapped his hands twice.

"Everyone out." The group quickly formed two lines. Vann held a thin control panel in his hand.

"I'll say this one last time."

"The twelfth floor is the public exhibition floor."

"The core exhibit, The Boundless Martial Diagram, is in the central exhibition hall on the twelfth floor. There is a perception array within three meters of it. You are not allowed to approach it or secretly film it." Someone could not help asking, "Not even one look?" Vann looked at him.

"No one cares if you pass by normally. If you stand there staring at it for more than ten seconds, that is dereliction of duty." The person immediately shut his mouth. Vann continued, "Some distinguished guests will enter the private preview area on the seventeenth floor. That is not your work area. Unless the service team leader temporarily assigns you there, no one is to enter."

"The twenty-first floor is the collection maintenance area. It is sealed."

"Freight elevators, cold cabinets, maintenance shafts, and backup collection rooms all require authorization." Rowan lowered his eyes and listened very carefully. This location information was more valuable than the art exhibition itself. Vann gave the group one final look.

"You are not guests tonight." He said, "Do not fantasize about being noticed by some important person. Do not try to display your talent in front of an exhibit. Do not initiate conversation. Do not block the way." Rowan raised his eyes and looked toward the end of the service corridor. In the distance, the elevator doors were opening. Silver-white light leaked out from within, clean and bright, carrying the particular cold indifference of the Upper District. He followed the group inside. The elevator rose.

The numbers changed one by one. [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] The doors opened. The public exhibition floor of the Vanguard Art Exhibition appeared before everyone's eyes. The vast white exhibition hall was like a hollowed-out crystal shell. Different works of light and shadow floated on the walls, and the floor was so clean it reflected the soles of their shoes. In the distance, the central exhibition hall was screened off by a semi-transparent curtain. Behind it, a huge dark scroll could be seen indistinctly.

The scroll had not been fully unveiled yet. But Rowan merely swept his gaze over it from afar, and the auxiliary core deep within his mental sea gave a faint tremor. It was not an attack. Nor was it an illusion. It was more like some extremely distant trajectory of motion gently brushing the edge of his perception through the curtain. The mana vortex formed by the Lancer Mana Channeling Art also slowed by half a beat in that instant. Rowan stopped for a moment.

Beside him, Rad whispered, "That's The Boundless Martial Diagram?" Rowan did not answer. The next moment, an extremely faint itch suddenly came from the center of his right palm. It was as if something beneath his skin had awakened.