Volume Three, Chapter Eight: Tang Xiaotang's Further Confession

The second night after the Clock Tower's mechanism was triggered, a heavy silence settled over Ulong City, punctuated only by a peculiar density in the air, as if every breath contained the subtle, insistent hum of an electronic prelude. Zhang Xiaowai, huddled in a temporary command post set up in the back alley of a convenience store, gnawed on a bowl of lukewarm instant noodles. The low, intermittent "ding-ding-ding" of his Ulong Halo still resonated in his ears, a persistent, almost irritating, digital whisper from the depths of his mind. His body ached from the previous night's ordeal, a dull protest against the continuous onslaught of bizarre events. He found himself constantly glancing around, half-expecting to see invisible soundwaves shimmering in the night.

Across from him, Tang Xiaotang sat unusually still, her phone resting untouched on her lap. Her gaze was fixed on some distant point in the inky blackness, a thoughtful, almost melancholic expression on her face. Her usual energetic demeanor, always ready to capture content, was replaced by a quiet introspection that was deeply unsettling to Zhang Xiaowai.

"Sister Tang?" Zhang Xiaowai ventured cautiously, gently prodding her instant noodle bowl with his chopsticks. "Your noodles are getting soggy." He tried to inject a note of normalcy into the tense atmosphere, but his voice felt strangely out of place, a mundane disruption in a night filled with the extraordinary.

She didn't react to his words directly. Instead, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. "I used to be a fan of Phantom Sound," she began abruptly, her voice as fleeting as the wind before a night market stall closes down for the evening. The confession hung in the air, a delicate, unexpected revelation. "I mean… a long time ago, back when he was still just 'Underground Soundwave Hacker'." Her words painted a picture of a different Phantom Sound, a figure of rebellious artistry rather than malevolent control.

Zhang Xiaowai almost choked on his instant noodles, spluttering in disbelief. "Wait, are you serious?!" The idea that the meticulous, content-obsessed Tang Xiaotang could have been involved with someone as nefarious as Phantom Sound was almost too outlandish to comprehend. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of the professional reporter with the enigmatic "underground soundwave hacker."

Tang Xiaotang didn't look at him, her gaze still distant, focused on the palm of her hand as if reading an invisible script. "His very first remix was launched on my channel," she murmured, her voice laced with a faint nostalgia. "That account… I closed it down years ago. But he still found me." A faint, bitter smile touched her lips, a grim acknowledgement of the inescapable tendrils of the past. The implication was clear: Phantom Sound hadn't forgotten her, and perhaps, her unique position in the digital landscape had always made her a target.

Liu Piaopiao, who had quietly appeared beside them, now cast the beam of her flashlight onto the convenience store wall, creating a stark, shifting shadow. Her voice was steady, analytical, despite the shocking revelation. "Did you know what he was planning back then?" she pressed, her detective instincts on high alert, sensing a deeper, more personal connection to the mystery.

"He was just an experimental maniac at first, then he became a control freak," Tang Xiaotang replied, a rueful, self-deprecating laugh escaping her. "I used to think he just wanted to awaken perception through soundwaves, but it turns out he wanted to awaken dominion." Her words carried the weight of a painful realization, a journey from naive admiration to disillusioned understanding. She had witnessed his transformation firsthand, from an innovator to a despot.

Zhang Xiaowai set his instant noodles down, his expression hardening with a rare seriousness. His voice was low, devoid of its usual sarcastic edge. "So, why are you telling us this now? Is it a sudden pang of conscience, or… are you hedging your bets?" The question was direct, unvarnished, cutting straight to the heart of his suspicion. He needed to know where her loyalties truly lay.

Tang Xiaotang shook her head slowly, a subtle movement that conveyed a deep weariness. From her pocket, she produced a small, irregular shard of a black vinyl record. The edges were rough, worn, bearing the marks of time and perhaps, a hidden journey. "This is a piece of the master recording from when I collaborated with him in the early years," she explained, her voice gaining a renewed purpose. "The sonic encoding on it is identical to the system he's using now… If you want to crack the control frequency, this might be the only key." The fragment, unassuming in its appearance, suddenly gleamed with immense significance, a tangible link to Phantom Sound's past and a potential weapon against his present machinations.

DJ Xiao K, who had been quietly listening, suddenly materialized beside them, his eyes wide with a mixture of reverence and awe. He carefully took the shard, holding it as if it were a sacred artifact. "This… this is incredibly rare! I need to digitize and save this immediately!" His artistic sensibilities recognized the unique value of the fragment, not just as a clue, but as a piece of sonic history.

"Don't upload it," Tang Xiaotang cautioned, her voice firm, a note of urgency in her tone. "This thing can knock people out, and it can also activate the resonance program Phantom Sound left embedded in the equipment." Her warning was stark, highlighting the inherent danger of the seemingly innocuous fragment.

Wang Dazhuang, who had been strolling over with his omnipresent thermos, overheard this last comment. His eyes widened in alarm, and he almost spilled his soup. "Are you saying we're carrying a singing time bomb right now?" he exclaimed, his voice incredulous. The idea of their key to victory also being a potent threat was a classic Ulong City paradox.

Liu Piaopiao's expression grew solemn. "No, this is a key," she countered, her voice resolute. "We might genuinely have to rely on this to directly confront Phantom Sound." Her conviction was unwavering, recognizing the potential power that the fragment held, even with its inherent risks.

Zhang Xiaowai suddenly remembered the looming threat of the second bell toll from the Clock Tower. His Ulong Halo flared with a renewed intensity, flashing a vivid red in his mind, a silent countdown. He looked at Tang Xiaotang, his gaze softened by a newfound understanding and appreciation. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice heartfelt. "Even if it's a few years late." The sincerity of his words seemed to break through Tang Xiaotang's guarded demeanor.

Tang Xiaotang lowered her head, her voice as soft as a breeze drifting through a forgotten alley. "He used to say that true dominion was making people willingly follow the melody. I used to think that was romantic. Now… I think it's a curse." Her words painted a poignant picture of lost ideals and the insidious nature of power. The romantic notion of a shared rhythm had twisted into a means of control, a chilling realization that now haunted her.

The sonic patterns on the black record fragment subtly shimmered, faintly glowing with an inner light. At that very moment, a deep, resonant "DONG!" echoed from the direction of the Clock Tower, cutting through the night air. The second bell toll had arrived, precisely as foretold, a stark reminder of the rapidly diminishing time they had left. Zhang Xiaowai knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his gut, that they had very few beats left to waste. Phantom Sound's conductor's baton, he sensed, was perhaps poised to deliver the final, crushing blow. The tension in the air was palpable, the symphony of chaos nearing its crescendo.