Chapter 1: Waking From the Sea of Bones

He woke from the sea of bones.

“Yiluo, congratulations, you’ve retired early.”

At Gate 77 of an international airport in San Francisco, a ticket inspector in his thirties leaned closer to the young, handsome man, speaking softly so only the two of them could hear.

The young man smiled elegantly and shook his head.

“Sir, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.

My name is Smith Hill.”

He took the ticket and walked forward two steps, but as if remembering something, he turned back.

With a sly smile, in a congratulatory tone, he said, “Lin Hai, just three years left until retirement.

Keep it up.”

Then he lowered his voice even further, so only the two of them could hear.

“Don’t.

Die.

Okay?”

Seeing the inspector’s stiff expression and forced professional smile, the young man couldn’t help laughing aloud before turning and leaving without looking back.

“Oh, handsome inspector, retiring so early?

How unfortunate for San Francisco Airport.

Are you interested in a job that’s easier and pays better?”

A wealthy white woman, over fifty and weighing more than 200 pounds, leaned in with excitement and desire in her eyes as she handed over her first-class ticket.

The inspector’s expression did not change because of her attitude.

He stepped back just slightly in a graceful, natural motion to avoid her, scanned her ticket, completed the check, and returned it along with a business card hidden beneath it.

“Dear Mrs. Griffin, that was just a young passenger’s joke.

How could I retire so early?

I wish you a pleasant journey.”

Though disappointed, Mrs. Griffin could not be angry with such a polite and handsome man.

She shook her head, sighed “what a pity,” and boarded.

As for the inspector, after finishing all the checks, he watched the plane take off and whispered expressionlessly:

“Have a pleasant journey…”

Then he left the airport.

The handsome young man, after boarding, put away his luggage and instinctively scanned his surroundings—a professional habit.

Seeing nothing unusual, he sat in his first-class seat.

“Lin Hai…?

Didn’t expect the organization to send him to see me off…

Is there some conspiracy?”

Yiluo and Lin Hai were both members of an international intelligence organization backed by several top nations.

Each country had its own branch; they did not interfere with one another.

The only shared rule: never assassinate foreign national leaders or election candidates.

Yiluo, Chinese, age 30, orphan.

Raised by the organization as an all-purpose operative.

Began missions at 13.

Over 17 years, earned “Best Agent” of the year in his branch 13 times.

Completed over 100 S-rank and above missions.

His final mission was flawless.

He could finally retire, return to his homeland, and live out a peaceful life in a harmless civilian post arranged by the organization.

As for Lin Hai—

Forever second place in the branch rankings.

Retirement at 40…

If he survives.

Trying so hard yet never getting first place—

Such a pitiful rival of mine~

Yiluo thought silently as the plane ascended into the skies.

Through the window, endless cotton-white clouds spread beneath the sunlight.

Good weather for the journey home lifted his mood.

He closed his eyes, intending to relax completely and sleep comfortably.

“Well, whatever.

No more thinking.”

“When I wake up, I’ll see Qianqian and Zou’er~”

On the other side of Earth, two people were waiting for him.

At last, he could stay with them.

Twelve years of compensation—

He would never leave them again.

For the first time in many years, completely relaxed, Yiluo drifted into deep sleep…

However—

At tens of thousands of meters above the ground—

An explosion erupted.

A blast of violent fire swallowed the entire plane instantly.

Death swung its scythe, harvesting every life aboard.

No survivors.

The next day, Chinese national news reported:

A Boeing 787, Flight CO1012 from San Francisco to Kyoto, China, crashed.

All 43 crew and passengers perished.

According to airport records, no Chinese nationals were on board.

The international investigation agency suspected maintenance failure.

Domestic airlines were urged to strengthen safety—

Life is paramount…

◇

◇

Yiluo dreamed.

A long, long dream…

He relived his harsh training, became an agent, met Qianqian at 18 during a mission—she changed him.

They later had a daughter, Zou’er.

After retiring at 30, he lived happily with them.

He held his wife’s hand gently, watched his daughter grow up, marry, and have children of her own…

But later in the dream, a girl with pale-gold hair kept appearing.

She always held a beautiful sword.

Always fighting—

Fighting, fighting.

She said she fought for faith, for justice.

He said he had no such noble ideals—

He fought only for the sake of himself and those he cared about.

Everything else was lies.

The pale-gold girl didn’t argue.

In the end, she fought a golden-haired loli.

A brutal battle—

Countless armored soldiers and clergy were cut down by the loli’s massive scythe, dying under blood-red mist.

Only the pale-gold girl and the knight behind her continued fighting…

Fighting…

At the end of the dream, the girl’s sword pierced the loli’s body.

Her own body and face were drenched in the loli’s blood.

She looked at him, confused.

“Why… did it become like this?”

Yiluo didn’t understand what she meant.

He only knew her blue eyes were no longer resolute—

They had become lost.

He did not answer.

He simply watched her quietly.

An observer.

This lasted a long, long time.

Until he felt heat—

His whole body burning, suffocating.

He looked down.

Somehow, he had become her.

And in his chest—

A sword was embedded.

A sword marked with the sun.

.

.

Dream—ended.

Yiluo’s vision was tinted faint red, like night-vision.

No—

It was night-vision.

Because the entire space was darkness.

And before him—

An endless sea of bones.

Human bones.

He was standing atop a mound made of them.

A mountain of corpses, an ocean of bones.

Nothing more fitting.

The scene was so grotesque his mind refused to process it.

What… is this…

Creak—creak—

He tried to speak, but only bone-scraping sounds emerged.

Then the burning sensation returned, consuming his entire body.

He felt as if he were being burned alive, unable to breathe, ready to turn to ash at any moment.

He lifted his right hand instinctively—

And saw a crystalline, transparent skeletal hand surrounded by drifting red mist.

This… this…

Everything defied his understanding.

He wanted to close his eyes but found he couldn’t.

He raised his hand again—

Same bone, same blood-mist.

The burning was unbearable.

He was close to fainting—

Yet unable to faint.

To his left, the heat lessened slightly.

He turned with effort and saw—

A sword glowing faintly gold.

The light brightened as he looked at it—

As if calling to him.

A sense of familiarity.

Of intimacy.

It didn’t feel like a weapon—

More like a dear friend.

But—

Why…

Why does it feel like the sword is mourning?

As if…

It is in even more pain than I am…

So radiant, yet so sorrowful.

It called to him—

And lamented for him.

Yiluo, driven to near-madness by the heat, somehow grew more lucid.

She reached out with her skeletal hand and grasped the hilt.

In that instant, brilliant golden light filled the entire space.

And Yiluo’s mind went completely blank as her body collapsed.