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Black fog engulfs the people.

With a sound that sends shivers down the spine, it swallows them whole, biting at their skin and leaving wounds. Along with the itch and sting of encroaching pain, the sand fly injects Leishmania into the unsuspecting humans. Once inside, the parasites start to move actively, multiplying as if they are not bound by any incubation period.

A vicious cycle.

A nightmare-like scene where even the basic laws of the ecosystem have been distorted.

In that chaos, there was little that people could do.

They simply screamed, desperately trying to escape the fog, while those consumed by it flailed about, struggling not to end up as the next ‘patient.’

A wave made of insects.

Fog made of insects.

How cruel and surreal that sight is.

Isn’t it a vision more terrifying than a nightmare…?

“I absolutely can’t understand this. I just can’t….”

Watching that dreadful scene, an old man with a long beard quietly murmurs.

When did it appear?

He gazes at the people frantically running to escape the insects, one who, in a panic, tries to swat the bugs off with his outer garment, only to be engulfed and bitten by an overwhelming number of them. He sees the sand fly enter the mouth of a screaming person, only to witness it biting and inserting its parasites within. He observes another person trying to call upon the power of their faith to overcome this crisis.

It is a scene that touches upon the nature of humanity.

It intersects with the primal essence of life.

As the old man gazes at this,

Ashtosh Singh quietly murmurs.

“How difficult it is, the essence of flame, of humanity, of truth….”

Flames begin to rise from his body.

The invocation he internally recites scatters sparks like flint, and those sparks start to consume his frail body like firewood. The fine hairs on his skin ignite first, and turquoise flames swirl around his body like heat haze.

Although he had cast a magical layer to protect his skin, ensuring it wouldn’t burn directly, the cost begins to gnaw at his body slowly.

Terrible pain.

A searing agony as if boiling water is poured over his skin.

The torment of his flesh cooking cooks his spirit, ringing insanity’s alarm, urging him to stop the spell immediately.

Yet, through such suffering, Ashtosh Singh merely strokes his beard, with solemn eyes directed at the hospital.

“What is the understanding of the other? What is the difference between myself and others? The flame, the truth.”

Even seeing a visage reminiscent of a portion of hell does not evoke pity, but rather contemplation.

A single question that has haunted him from childhood now dominates his mind.

“What a sight that transcends my ignorant understanding. I thought I understood, but I was wrong.”

Ah.

“The truth, to be one with God, is indeed so difficult….”

Ashtosh Singh sighs these grumbling words and feeds the flames even more.

Then with a swift motion of his arm—

Whoosh!

He incinerates the black soup of fog.

* * *

He feels some of the insects have disappeared.

It seems the insects reborn from ash have returned to ash.

Park Jinseong detects a signal near the Indian border.

Where could it be?

He senses a congregation in a narrow area, so it’s likely a hospital.

He feels the insects at that spot vanish in an instant.

Annihilation.

It feels as if they were obliterated by medicines or flames.

Not just the sand flies but even the parasites have been wiped out, so it’s highly likely it was the flames.

If that’s the case, the most probable conclusion is that,

‘The Flame Sage was near the border.’

It means that the Flame Sage, fire sorcerer Ashtosh Singh, was lying in wait near the border.

He knew Park Jinseong was attempting to enter China and had warned him…. Likely, he was waiting near the border in case someone tried to slip in through the India-China border.

Those Sikhs, referred to as ‘firewood’ by him, must have been sent off to another border.

It’s not a bad judgment.

Especially considering the possibility that Park Jinseong would be distracted by the ‘firewood’ and not focus on him, if that’s the case, it’s truly commendable. Whenever someone becomes troublesome or must fight, striking first at their base is a method he had practiced since before his return.

Thinking in those terms, it would indeed be a wise decision to protect India, the most crucial base that could immediately counter Park Jinseong’s powerful spells….

Yet sadly, Ashtosh Singh has failed.

Park Jinseong has already succeeded in entering China.

* * *

The scent of eight-cornered incense.

A distinct odor from spices primarily used in southern China.

Signs written in the elegant calligraphy of Wang Xizhi, a beloved calligrapher of China, swirl before the eyes. The LED lights that entice customers dazzle the eyes, and the tones of Mandarin ring out everywhere. Children in pants with holes waddle along, while people carrying luxury goods roam around….

This is a market.

A night market tangled with tourists and locals.

And amidst all this, a man walks on.

With an appearance so ordinary that anyone would mistake him for a Chinese person.

Not particularly tall, with nothing about his physique standing out.

If there’s anything remotely unique, it’s just that he has many moles scattered across his exposed skin.

But even those are not particularly large or oddly shaped, merely a ‘person with a few more moles than average.’

The man, enveloped by the aromas of food wafting through the air, passes through the underground market.

He then hops into a taxi and speaks proficient Chinese to state his destination.

The taxi driver nods as if he understood, starting the car without delay.

After driving for a while,

Perhaps feeling bored, the driver turns to the seemingly ordinary man in the backseat and asks.

“Are you here as a tourist?”

“Yes. I heard this night market is famous, so I came to explore.”

“Where are you from? You seem to have a bit of an accent.”

“Oh, did you notice my accent?”

“Yeah. I’ve had plenty of customers here, there’s no way I wouldn’t notice. But your Mandarin skills are truly remarkable. Unless you’re someone as sharp as me, one might think you’re a Beijinger.”

The man in the back smiles at the driver’s words.

“That’s right, you’re accurate. I lived in the countryside and later moved up to Beijing.”

“That’s right! My intuition is spot on. This is just experience talking.”

“Oh, does that mean… you’ve had many customers, then? Any memorable ones?”

“Oh, absolutely. Just the other day, I was waiting for a fare while smoking a cigarette, when a turbanned person came right up to me. Other taxi drivers were trying to serve him as a foreigner, but I immediately sensed—oh, that guy’s a Chinese person from the west….”

The driver excitedly shares his stories, reveling in tales of passengers who were thought to be foreigners but turned out to be Chinese from regions with Hui culture, or identifying someone who others called Chinese as a Chinese person from Vietnam, based on observations.

All his stories were simply bragging about his own observational skills.

The man listened attentively to the taxi driver’s tales until they reached their destination.

He then pulled out his smartphone to scan the QR code and pay the fare, smiling brightly at the driver.

“Wishing you a great day.”

“Yeah. You too, take care.”

And so, the taxi driver and the passenger part ways.

The taxi driver turns and drives off into the distance, while the man stands by the side of the road, pondering the driver’s words with a smile.

“Indeed. He seems like someone who can manage his business without too much trouble….”

The taxi driver went on nonstop about how sharp his intuition was, how remarkable his observation skills were.

To a light ear, it seemed like nothing more than the ramblings of a boastful middle-aged man, and in truth, that was the content itself—almost like a boast of his own greatness. But because of the taxi driver’s unique eloquence, his words did not come off as dull.

But thinking back on it, it was clever.

Nothing perilous ever slipped into the conversation.

Even when the man said, ‘I moved from the countryside to Beijing,’ there wasn’t even a customary follow-up of “Oh really? Which countryside?” and instead the driver smoothly transitioned back to his stories.

Such behavior is quite clever.

It’s a method to avoid approaching dangerous places, steering clear of treacherous topics, and appearing harmless in front of any dangerous individuals, thus preventing any trouble.

“Yeah. It’s remarkably clever….”

The man,

Park Jinseong chuckled while recalling the taxi driver.

『 Internet communication disruption detected. Is it a DDoS attack by hackers? 』

『 Public Security authorities state, “The terrorist was subdued without incident, with minor damages.” 』

『 …

…

A criminal attempted an act of terror, but public security and special forces successfully contained the situation. There were 14 minor injuries, 3 serious injuries with no fatalities reported….

…

…

The area is currently under lockdown for restoration investigations….』

『 …The new economic policy has significantly boosted the economic growth rate, authorities announced. At a press conference today, the National Development and Reform Commission of the People’s Republic of China noted the necessity of rein in the runaway three-horse chariot to pursue stability, along with mid-to-long-term regional development policies. Investments for domestic expansion and regional development….』

Park Jinseong chuckled as he scanned the articles displayed on his smartphone.

“There’s just so much to talk about.”

 

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