"Grave trouble…"
Old Man Shaw's heavy words hung in the air of the small, dim "Bai Cao Tang," thick with the scent of herbs, landing like a cold anvil on Alan's heart, which felt like it had stopped beating. The heavy wooden door was firmly shut, sealing out the sounds of the East End night but trapping a suffocating, unprecedented tension within.
In the yellow lamplight, Grandfather leaned against the door, his chest rising and falling slightly, his rheumy eyes fixed on Alan, who still sat slumped on the floor, face chalk-white. The emotions swirling in those eyes were terrifyingly complex: fathomless fear, anger bordering on betrayal, a resignation to fate, and a sliver of… a steely resolve Alan had never seen before.
"Grandad… I…" Alan croaked, his throat raw, voice barely a whisper. He wanted to explain, to justify, to insist he'd just "fallen" in the shipyard, but the cold, hard weight of the Warden card in his hand and Grandfather's violent reaction made his lies feel pathetic.
"Quiet!" Grandfather snapped, his voice raspy but carrying undeniable authority. He stopped looking at Alan and began pacing the small shop like a cornered, aging lion. His steps were heavy, each thud on the worn floorboards hammering Alan's frayed nerves. His gaze swept over Alan again, more meticulously this time, more… professionally. His nostrils flared, no longer scenting danger, but seemingly detecting faint, imperceptible "traces" lingering in the air.
"Docks… abandoned shipyard… rust… cheap machine oil…" Grandfather muttered under his breath, eyes closed, brow furrowed deeply, as if deciphering an invisible code. "…And… heavy blood scent! More than one kind! Mixed with… non-human musk! Were-pups… and the cloying stink of those 'fang-bats' (vampires)! Yes!" His eyes snapped open, the sharp gaze piercing Alan again. "You're covered in their 'stench'! And… a residue of incredibly chaotic, violent energy! *That's* what drew the Wardens' Hounds!"
Alan was speechless, stunned by this near-supernatural perception. Just from scent and residual "traces," Grandfather had reconstructed most of his hellish experience! Wardens… Hounds… the words chilled him to the bone.
"Tell me! Everything!" Grandfather's voice rose sharply, carrying an irresistible pressure. He stepped close, looming over Alan. "Every detail! What did you see? Hear? That 'pulse'… what happened?! Why did that Warden give you that 'beacon'?!"
Under the weight of that knowing gaze and the overwhelming presence, Alan's final defenses crumbled. Concealment was pointless. Fear and a desperate need to unburden himself took over.
He sat trembling on the floor, voice thick with unshed tears, and began to recount the nightmare. Hearing the sounds on his shortcut home, hiding behind the container, witnessing the impossible battle between vampires and werewolves; the despair as the berserk werewolf locked onto him; the volcanic eruption of uncontrollable energy inside him, unleashing the ripple that disrupted the fight; Lena White descending like an avenging angel, driving back the werewolf with her crackling baton, pinning the vampires with strange talismans; her icy warnings about "The Veil" and "Anima Field Disturbance"; and finally, this cold metal card…
His narrative was disjointed, filled with terror and confusion, but he described the pale, deadly figures (vampires), the moonlight-warped brutes (werewolves), Lena's efficient, impossible combat style, and her sharp, unguarded suspicion of the "anomaly" within him in as much detail as he could muster.
Grandfather listened in stony silence, his face darkening, brow furrowing deeper. When Alan described the invisible energy ripple bursting from him, Grandfather's pupils contracted sharply, his body swaying almost imperceptibly. At the words "Wardens," "Lena White," and "beacon card," the last vestige of hope vanished from his eyes, replaced by profound despair.
"So… it's begun…" Grandfather finally breathed out, a long, weary sigh that seemed to age him another decade. He stopped pressing and turned towards the counter.
From a concealed compartment beneath it, he retrieved a small, ancient-looking brass compass. Its surface was etched with intricate patterns, a dark green, non-metallic needle embedded at its center. He then swiftly selected specific herbs from the cabinets: a pinch of dried Silverthread powder, a few petals of Moonlight Bloom emitting a cool aura, and a small fragment of a strange, pitch-black stone Alan had never seen, icy to the touch.
Grandfather carefully placed these materials into a shallow depression in the compass's center. Then, extending a gnarled but unnervingly steady index finger, a faint, almost invisible golden light shimmered around its tip. With this finger, he traced the intricate patterns on the compass's rim with rapid, precise movements, his lips moving in a low, guttural chant, the syllables ancient and rhythmic.
Hum—
As Grandfather traced and chanted, the brass compass began to vibrate softly, emitting a low thrum. The dark green needle at its center started spinning wildly! The Silverthread powder and Moonlight Bloom petals in the depression seemed to ignite from an unseen force, instantly transforming into tendrils of silvery-white and pale blue smoke! The smoke didn't dissipate; instead, it was drawn to the compass's patterns, swirling and coiling around the spinning needle.
Expression grave, Grandfather slowly moved the spinning compass closer to Alan's body. As it neared Alan's chest, the change was drastic!
The needle's spin accelerated to a blinding speed, emitting a high-pitched whine! The silvery-blue smoke became turbulent, roiling violently! More horrifyingly, within the swirling smoke, threads of incredibly faint yet profoundly chaotic dark red and murky grey energy began to seep out! These red and grey energies clung like parasites to the silvery-blue smoke, attempting to corrode the dark green needle!
"Tsk…" Grandfather hissed, his face turning grim. "Potent invasive residue! Vampiric taint… Lycan rage-essence… and… the tracking mark and ionic interference left by that Warden woman! Worst of all…" He stared fixedly at a few nearly invisible, stubbornly swirling threads of almost transparent, twisting "energy" hovering near the compass center, over Alan's heart. "…The chaotic energy you unleashed! Faint, but its nature… incredibly impure! Like violently forced fusion of conflicting forces! This is the root of the 'Anima Field Disturbance'! It's an unstable bomb inside you, ready to blow you apart at any moment! And it acts like a beacon, drawing every foul thing for miles!"
Grandfather's words plunged Alan into an abyss. A bomb? A beacon? Blown apart? He felt like a walking catastrophe.
"Must be cleansed. Now!" Grandfather acted decisively. He set the compass down and retrieved a small porcelain vial and a flat jade box from the compartment. He opened the vial, revealing a viscous, milky-white liquid with a strange, clean fragrance. Dipping his finger in, he swiftly dabbed small amounts onto Alan's forehead, over his heart, the center of each palm, and the soles of his feet. The liquid was icy, carrying a peculiar soothing power that slightly eased the agony and weakness inside him.
Next, he opened the jade box, revealing a fine, starry-silver dust. Taking a deep breath, his expression solemn, he flicked a small amount into the air!
"Tiandi Xuanhuang, Qi Yin Guizang! Huiqi Bucun, Lingtai Ziqing! Chi!" (Heaven and Earth, Profound and Yellow, Qi returns to its store! Filth cannot remain, the spirit platform purifies itself! Command!)
With a low, powerful incantation, the scattered silver dust didn't fall. It hovered, swirling in the air! As if guided, it coalesced into countless tiny silver sparks, like living things, and darted unerringly towards the points on Alan's body where the compass had detected the different contaminating energies!
Hiss… Sizzle…
Faint sounds, like water hitting hot oil, filled the air. Alan felt sharp pinpricks and heat where the silver sparks touched his skin. He watched in horror as the dark stains on his clothes began to visibly fade and vanish under the sparks' touch! Simultaneously, the faint, sickly-sweet scent (vampire), the animal musk (werewolf), the faint ozone tang (Lena's baton), and an indescribable chaotic odor were rapidly stripped from his body and purified!
The process lasted about a minute. As the last silver spark faded, Alan felt as if an invisible, crushing weight had lifted. His body was still weak, but the deep-seated pain and inexplicable "clogged" sensation had lessened significantly. The foul odors in the air were almost gone, replaced only by the shop's herbal aroma and a faint, incense-like residue of purification.
Grandfather's expression eased slightly, but the gravity in his eyes remained unchanged. He picked up the brass compass again and brought it near Alan. This time, the needle merely trembled gently, its spin much calmer. The silvery-blue smoke was stable. The contaminating red, grey, and chaotic transparent energies were gone.
"Surface contaminants are temporarily cleared," Grandfather said wearily, carefully stowing the compass, vial, and jade box. "But the chaotic energy you unleashed… it's left a 'mark' inside you. Like a riverbed scoured by a flood, the traces remain. It's dormant now, but it could erupt again if your emotions run high, or if you're hit by strong external energy. More importantly…"
His gaze became piercing, boring into Alan's soul. "…That Warden woman, Lena White. What she gave you isn't a 'beacon.' It's bait! A tracker for the Hounds to mark their prey! As long as this card is on you, or if you crush it, they can pinpoint your location instantly!"
As if to confirm his words, the cold metal card in Alan's hand seemed to pulse with an incredibly faint light beneath the lamplight, the miniature Warden emblem flashing for a split second – so fast it could have been a trick of the light.
Alan flinched, almost dropping the card as if it had burned him. Fear seized him anew. "Then… then I'll throw it away!" he stammered.
"Fool!" Grandfather snapped. "Throw it away now? Do you want to tell them you found the trap, force them to 'neutralize' you immediately?!" He took a steadying breath, forcing down his agitation. "Keep it! Pretend you know nothing! As long as you don't crush it, it's just a piece of metal. Remember, never crush it! Unless… unless it's a true life-or-death moment, your absolute last resort!"
Grandfather's words sank Alan's heart. He felt caught in a vast, dark whirlpool, an invisible net tightening around him. Wardens were Hounds, the card was bait, and he was the marked quarry.
"Grandad…" Alan's voice was thick with tears and helplessness. "Those… vampires… werewolves… the Wardens… and this thing inside me… what are they? What… what *is* this world?" His eighteen years of mundane reality were shattered. Overwhelming questions and terror threatened to drown him.
Grandfather looked at his grandson's terrified, lost face, a deep pain and struggle flashing in his eyes. He was silent for a long time, so long Alan thought he wouldn't answer.
Finally, Grandfather spoke, his voice low and rough, each word weighted as if dragged from a great depth. "Alan… this world… is far more complex, and far more dangerous… than what you've seen or known. Beneath the 'Veil' that ordinary people live behind… lies another world. A world of 'Animates.' Vampires, werewolves… are just part of it. And the Wardens… are the official organization that maintains the surface order of the 'Veil,' handling… 'incidents'…"
He paused, his clouded gaze seeming to pierce the walls, staring into an infinite darkness, his voice heavy with a sense of fate.
"And you, my boy… that power inside you… the world you saw… it means the 'Veil' has cracked open for you. Trouble… has found you. The 'Hounds'… have caught your scent."
Grandfather's focus snapped back to Alan, his expression more serious than ever before. "From tonight, forget the life you knew. You must learn… how to survive… in this hidden world."