Gou Zai Punishment Division

The archives were filled with a lingering musty smell, mixed with the acidic odor of preservatives, thick like an invisible film that clung to the skin and refused to dissipate.

The old CRT screen was completely black. Even though the power was off, there was still a faint high-frequency static sound floating in the air, like something gently rubbing against your eardrum.

Chen Mo took a breath, his first thought being that it would be truly unreasonable if this godforsaken place couldn't claim an extra two hundred yuan in allowance.

He was certain that he had been standing just now, and he should still be standing now, but the sensation under his feet was starting to feel strange.

The shadows crept silently out from the soles of the shoes, spreading along the cracks in the floor tiles.

It wasn't the flow of a liquid, but more like an expansion that didn't require a physical form, like a shadow itself deciding to extend outwards.

When the shadowy figure touched the clump of dark green seaweed on the bill, the lingering fishy smell seemed to vanish instantly.

The aquatic plants disintegrated into fine ash, not even having time to dissipate the smell of decay.

Chen Mo instinctively tensed his body, preparing to face the backlash.

He expected extreme cold, tearing, or some kind of more difficult-to-name erosion, but everything turned out as usual.

My brain was unusually calm, so calm that it didn't seem like I had just been exposed to pollution.

The icy, demonic energy that had been trying to penetrate his consciousness was completely swallowed up by the black shadow beneath his feet, leaving not a trace behind.

But it swallowed more than just those.

Chen Mo quickly realized that what had disappeared was not the demonic nature, but the fear.

He stood there and did a quick self-check, then discovered something even stranger—

His craving for the lard noodles at the alley entrance had vanished.

The memory is still there; he knows the taste, price, and location of that bowl of noodles, and he knows he used to really like it.

But that urge to "eat" seems to have been cleanly cut out of one's mind, leaving only a morbid, lifeless silence.

This is less like an exchange and more like a selection process.

The dark shadow on the soles of my feet clung quietly, like a pre-existing mechanism rather than a temporary anomaly.

Chen Mo looked at the cup of warm tea on the table, a trace of sympathy and awe for his fellow human still lingering in his heart.

But he quickly realized that it wasn't something he was guarding; it was simply that the thing wasn't interested in him.

In other words, what he can leave behind now is entirely beyond his control.

The dark shadow under my feet is not an anchor point.

It's more like a sieve.

To combat the growing, yet undeniable, emptiness, he reached into the soaked pocket of his uniform and found the old train ticket.

The ticket was from three years ago, and the destination was a city he had never been to before.

At the same time, he was certain that he had indeed been there.

The two memories coexist in the mind, fitting together perfectly, as if it were always meant to be this way.

He pressed hard on the wound on his thumb.

The dull pain from the pen brought his thoughts back to focus, and he stopped himself from delving deeper, because he knew very well that there would be no answer if he continued to think about it.

As long as he's still calculating next month's rent, still thinking about that 600 yuan attendance bonus, and the shadow under his feet is still shielding him from those things, then at least for the time being, he can still be classified as a "human".

The emergency lights outside the corridor began to emit a faint buzzing sound.

The frequency of the tungsten filament vibration gradually overlapped with a heavier rhythm.

The sound of military boots came from above.

Before the sound even fully reached his ears, his body had already started moving.

His knees buckled, and he fell to the side, avoiding the broken glass on the ground, and plunged directly into the blackened puddle.

With hands behind his head and shoulders tucked in, the movements were so precise that they didn't seem like a spontaneous reaction, but rather the optimal solution left after countless revisions.

He was quite certain that he had never studied it.

But his body remembers.

The iron gate was violently pushed open.

As the cold wind rushed in, the white light of the searchlight also cut in, the light as cold as metal itself, making people's eyes sting.

The captain in protective suits stepped into the archives room, holding a brass compass in his palm.

The compass was empty except for a piece of blackened dead man's finger bone, which served as the magnetic needle.

As the gears turned, the finger bone rubbed against the scale, producing a dry, harsh sound.

The moment the probe wave swept across, Chen Mo clearly felt the shadow beneath his feet suddenly shrink.

It compressed from its original sprawling state into a layer of black film tightly adhering to the ground, as if it was actively reducing its presence.

The next moment, the finger bone in the compass slammed into the bottom of the scale, making a crisp, muffled sound.

stopped.

"zero."

A distorted electronic voice came from inside the mask: "No pollution detected, indicators set to zero."

At that moment, my finger bones actually trembled slightly, but the amplitude was so small that it was almost negligible.

The captain was unaware.

Chen Mo noticed it.

The indicator has been reset to zero.

Chen Mo pondered these two words in his heart. The dark shadow beneath his feet would henceforth be called "Zero".

The captain looked down at him, who was lying in the puddle, his tone carrying a sickeningly familiar contempt:

"You've learned your lesson today, lying down faster than a dog. Didn't you threaten to complain yesterday?"

This statement doesn't sound like a spur-of-the-moment remark; it's more like a repetition of a conversation that has happened many times before.

Chen Mo's mind went blank for a moment.

Several familiar, perfunctory phrases flashed through his mind in an instant, as if he had been mocked here countless times before.

So he chose the safest approach—to keep his mouth shut and not utter a sound.

He buried his face in the sewage, letting the dirty water fill his nasal cavity.

The trembling caused by suffocation is natural and real; this reaction requires no thought and is infallible.

The silence stretched for a few seconds.

The captain gave a cold laugh, as if he had lost interest in continuing to probe.

"Consider yourself lucky. Someone like you will eventually become just another resource for the logistics department."

The military boots turned and left.

The iron gate slammed shut, the sound of the latch locking echoing through the walls.

The vibration was transmitted along the wall.

A rusty screw on the overhead ventilation duct snapped and fell off with a "click".

The sewage rack sank down half an inch, and the cold wind blowing into the basement quietly changed direction.

The whole process was extremely natural, and everything happened in accordance with the logic of the structure itself.

It's like a long-delayed result that has finally been made up for.

After confirming that it was completely quiet outside, Chen Mo pulled himself out of the water and wiped the dirty water off his face.

My gaze naturally fell on the spot where the captain had just been standing.

There's something extra there.

A semi-solidified black mud footprint.

In the center of the mud, there was a piece of dried, dark green aquatic plant.

He was certain that the Yin energy here had been completely devoured by "Zero," leaving not even a trace.

Therefore, this thing can only come from another source.

—Brought in.

The person responsible for cleaning up the pollution was standing on the pollution itself, and according to the compass, that pollution was as if it didn't exist.

This is not a vulnerability.

This is a deviation allowed by the rules themselves.

Chen Mo remained rooted to the spot.

He stared at the piece of waterweed for a few seconds, as if confirming something, before lifting his foot and kicking the clump of black mud along with the waterweed into the corner.

The movements were very casual, as if they genuinely just found it an eyesore.

The next instant, the hum of the ventilation system suddenly became even deeper, as if something had been drawn into the structure below.

Chen Mo stood still, not looking back.