A Place to Land

After watching Wendy leave the room, Jack Li turned back to Ethan. 

"Can you release my teammates now?" 

"But that 'Yidang' member in your group…" 

"I'll handle it." 

Ethan nodded. "We'd prepared a 'welcome ceremony,' but I suppose that'll have to wait." He walked to the classroom door and opened it. Liam stood nearby outside. 

"Done talking?" Liam asked, then paused, scrutinizing Ethan's face. "Damn, what happened to your face?" 

"It's nothing." Ethan waved him off. "Liam, it was all a misunderstanding. Release Jack Li's teammates." 

Jack Li followed Liam to the school's second floor, where his team was gathered in a storage room at the end of the hallway. True to Ethan's cautious nature, they hadn't been locked up—instead, they'd been supplied with canned food, bottled water, and a chatty middle-aged woman tasked with keeping them occupied. The woman wore both a Buddhist amulet and a crucifix around her neck, presenting a perplexing combination of faiths. She was currently regaling Officer Liu with tales of village deities assisting police investigations. 

"Jack Li! You're here!" Officer Liu sprang to his feet like a drowning man spotting a lifeline. 

"Is everyone okay?" Jack Li asked. 

"Why wouldn't we be?" Officer Liu frowned. "What took you so long?" 

"I was with Ethan." Jack Li scanned the room. "Where's Barrett?" 

"Wasn't that punk with you?" Officer Liu countered. 

Liam, standing behind them, sighed. "The mad dog's in another room. I told him he'd get food and water if he calmed down, but he refused to listen." 

In the adjacent room, Barrett sat bound and fuming. 

"Hey! Liar!" Barrett barked, thrashing against his ropes. "Untie me right now! I'll pound this meathead into tears!" 

Liam's patience wore thin. "You really think your flashy tattoos scare me? Want me to show you what a real fight looks like?" 

"Bring it on!" Barrett sneered. "Liar, why're you siding with the enemy? They offer you a better deal?" 

"Not exactly," Jack Li interjected. "Barrett, they were going to release you, but your… enthusiasm made them reconsider." 

"Enthusiasm?! You call this enthusiasm?!" Barrett roared. "They tied me up and expect me to sing hymns?!" 

"You did throw the first punch," Jack Li reminded him. "Apologize, and maybe the ropes come off." 

Liam raised an eyebrow—expecting Barrett to apologize seemed ludicrous. 

"Sorry," Barrett blurted, ducking his head. "My bad. Now untie me." 

"What?!" Liam gaped. "Where's your precious pride?!" 

"If saying sorry gets me loose, then yeah, I messed up." Barrett grinned shamelessly. "Flexibility's my middle name." 

With the team reunited, Liam led them to a first-floor classroom in the north wing. Ethan had allocated them a space stocked with essentials: aged but clean bedding, bottled water, canned goods, lighters, and a flashlight. The floor buzzed with activity as other groups settled into neighboring classrooms, their chatter filling the twilight air. Compared to Jack Li's previous "survivalist" existence, this bordered on luxury. 

The team arranged their bedding while Barrett built a fire in a scavenged metal basin. Officer Liu heated canned provisions over the flames as nine people sat in uneasy silence. Jack Li studied his companions—Barrett, Tony, Officer Liu, Dr. Lee—weighing unspoken calculations. 

Liam reappeared in the doorway. "Settling in okay? Sorry about the tight quarters." 

"It's perfect, Shan-ge." Emma rose with a practiced smile. 

Officer Liu approached amiably. "Thanks for the setup. Got any smokes?" 

"Cigarettes…?" Liam reluctantly produced a half-empty pack. "This is all I've got…" 

"No worries." Officer Liu pocketed the cigarettes smoothly. "Thanks." 

Liam stared mournfully at his dwindling stash. "Hey… leave me one at least?" 

"Been too long." Officer Liu lit up defiantly. 

"Fine." Liam shook his head. "Rest up. Games start tomorrow." 

After Liam departed, Emma glared at Officer Liu. 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

"Take that outside," she snapped. 

"Right, right." Officer Liu turned to Jack Li. "Smoke?" 

Jack Li hesitated, then accepted a cigarette despite earlier claims of quitting. 

"Tony?" Officer Liu offered. 

"I… don't smoke," Tony stammered. 

"Time to learn." Officer Liu shoved a cigarette between Tony's lips. "It's easy—inhale, exhale." 

Jack Li caught on. "Let's give the others some space." 

The three men walked in tense silence, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. Every shadow seemed to harbor eavesdroppers. 

"The rooftop? Basement?" Officer Liu suggested. 

"No." Jack Li pointed outside. "The field." 

At the center of the sports ground, Officer Liu lit cigarettes for himself and Jack Li. Tony stared awkwardly at his unlit smoke. 

"How do I…?" 

Officer Liu plucked it from Tony's mouth. "Forget it. You're lucky. These things'll kill you." 

"But you said—" 

Jack Li cut in. "Tony—what's the Seven Black Swords?" Tony froze. The memory surged back—a blade piercing his gut in the previous cycle. 

"Sixty years ago," he began, pacing, "there was a legendary vigilante called Chuqi, the Punisher of Evils. He wielded a massive sword with seven blackened parts—blade, tip, spine, edge, hilt, tassel, sheath. He'd reward the virtuous with silver and impale the wicked through their dantian. The mere mention of his Seven Black Swords spread terror…" 

Officer Liu rapped Tony's skull. "Cut the fiction. What really happened?" 

"But that *is* my fiction!" Tony protested. "I spent weeks crafting that backstory!" 

"So the sword from your novel… killed you?" Jack Li pressed. 

Tony nodded grimly. "My imagination became reality. Every writer dreams of their world coming alive—until it tries to murder them." 

Jack Li's mind raced. Tony's fear of the harpoon strike, his dread of the fictional sword—it wasn't precognition. 

*He's not predicting disasters. He's manifesting them.* 

The realization struck like lightning. Tony's "gift" wasn't foreseeing danger—it was *summoning* it. Every anxious thought materialized as catastrophe. 

"The so-called 'Zhaozai'!" Jack Li breathed. "It's not precognition. Your fears *create* the disasters!" 

Tony paled. The implications hung thick—his very presence was a ticking bomb. And the second bell still hadn't rung. The calamities would keep coming.