It started when a bloody rain was about to fall.

"Contact the National Earthquake Administration Data Center."

After carefully examining the diagrams on the tablet, Shi Linglong began to speak.

Her voice was like a mountain stream flowing through a crevice in the rocks—clear and steady, with a strange rhythm that could soothe all restlessness.

The sound wasn't loud, yet it seemed to penetrate the tent canvas, pierce through the rock strata, and reach some distant place.

"Requesting access to the raw microseismic waveforms from all monitoring stations in North China over the past three months. Do not use processed data, I need the raw waveforms."

At the same time, she raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping past Qin Lan and landing on the majestic, silent mountain shadows outside the tent.

In the afternoon sunlight, the mountain's shadow took on distinct layers of bluish-gray. Every fold was etched with the vicissitudes of millions of years; every shadow held countless unsolved secrets.

Then Shi Linglong continued:

"Expand the sampling grid. Collect samples from all major streams and seepage points within a ten-kilometer radius of the camp, at different soil depths. Perform heavy metal content spectral analysis and precise radioactive isotope detection. This improves detection accuracy by two orders of magnitude."

Just then, outside the tent, several team members, as if they had overheard Shi Linglong's words, began preparing their sampling equipment. One of the young male team members even peeked into the tent and whispered:

"Engineer Qin, should we increase the soil sampling depth? I'll go get a longer soil sampling drill."

Qin Lan nodded, giving a gesture of agreement, and the other person quickly left.

This young male team member is named Ding Hai. He is lean and capable, with prominent veins on his arms, and walks with a brisk pace.

As he went to get the soil drill, he wondered to himself: What's going on today? First the data was abnormal, and now we have to expand the sampling. Could there really be something underground?

"Sister Linglong, you suspect..."

Then Qin Lan lowered her voice, and the sunny disposition on her fair face was replaced by a solemn expression:

"Was it a deliberate leak? Or... an undisclosed deep-experimental study?"

At the same time, her brain was already racing—if it was a deliberate leak, where might the source of the pollution be; if it was a deep-sea test, which department conducted it and when?

Various possibilities flashed through Qin Lan's mind like a revolving lantern, and she quickly evaluated, filtered, eliminated, or retained each one.

As Qin Lan spoke, a wisp of hair slipped from her high ponytail and fell to the side of her face.

She casually tucked it behind her ear, a movement so relaxed and natural, yet carrying a touch of girlish charm.

It was a beauty that was completely unnoticed, a beauty that caught you off guard, a beauty that evoked tenderness in you.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the beautiful curve of her earlobe.

A small, almost invisible mole on her earlobe echoes the one on her collarbone, adding a touch of hidden allure to her radiant beauty.

Upon hearing Qin Lan's conjecture, Shi Linglong did not rush to answer. Instead, she held the tablet computer in her left hand and turned to walk towards the edge of a seam in the tent canvas.

The way she performed the movement was as if the still landscape scroll had been suddenly given life—smooth, natural, full of inner tension, yet not at all abrupt.

As she walked toward the edge of the tent, a beam of strong afternoon light, which pierced right through the seams of the canvas, enveloped her with the precision of a stage spotlight.

Tiny dust particles danced wildly in the beam of light, swirling around her hair and shoulders—

Like billions of stars surrounding a single, quietly burning star core, it is sacred and holy.

At that very moment, the mountain wind suddenly intensified.

The wind billowed the tent, making a dull thumping sound, and also ruffled the hair at her temples and forehead.

A few strands of her dark hair broke free from their restraints, brushing across Shi Linglong's jade-like cheeks and her elegant neck—leaving fleeting, soft marks on her pale skin.

That was the only dynamic element in the picture—

But that is precisely why it is even more moving.

But it also makes people realize that beneath this icy skin and jade-like bones, there is warmth, and traces can be left.

In the backlight, her silhouette was clearly defined.

From the forehead to the tip of the nose, from the tip of the nose to the chin—the lines flowed as if the Creator had drawn them in a single stroke with the finest brush.

Without the slightest hesitation, without the slightest excess, every inch is precise, every inch is perfect, like an impeccable silhouette.

The silhouette fell onto the tent wall, magnified and softened, like an ancient ink painting—elegant, timeless, and full of endless artistic conception.

At this moment, in front of her was the hazy light and shadow shining through the gaps in the tent canvas.

Behind her, Qin Lan watched silently, holding her breath.

She stood at the boundary between light and darkness, at the edge between the human world and the clouds.

At that moment, she didn't seem like a geological exploration researcher—

It's more like a mountain deity from some ancient legend.

It is the essence of Mount Tai, formed over millions of years.

At this moment, it is appearing in human form.

"No."

Only then did Shi Linglong turn slightly to speak.

At the same time, Shi Linglong's right fingertip precisely touched the center of the chaotic, turbulent, and strangely colored spectrum on the tablet computer in her left hand.

The moment her fingertips touched the ground, they carried immense weight—as if it weren't a thin tablet, but the geological map of the entire Mount Tai, and she was touching the pulse of the earth.

"No matter how well human activities are concealed, there are always patterns and elements that can be identified in their spectral characteristics."

Shi Linglong's voice was calm, yet it carried a subtle, almost imperceptible unease.

"Burning leaves traces of burning, explosions leave echoes of explosion, and even underground nuclear tests leave behind specific isotopic fingerprints. But this—this—it's more like the 'pulse' of some… colossal entity…"

Shi Linglong paused after saying this.

While everyone inside the tent was whispering about the conversation between Shi Linglong and Qin Lan, the atmosphere outside the tent was also subtly changing.

The two team members beside the portable seismograph stopped joking. One of them stared at the fluctuating waveforms on the instrument dial and frowned, saying:

"This geothermal signal... it's getting stranger and stranger. It's completely different from this morning."

The speaker was Wu Dayong.

He abandoned his usual playful demeanor, his brows furrowing as he stared at the undulating wavy line, a tightness gripping the back of his neck.

He'd been running around in the wild for so many years and had seen all sorts of waveforms, but this one—it looked like something alive was turning over underground.

Another person leaned over to look, their face also darkening: "The numbers are definitely wrong. Should we go in and ask?"

The speaker was Song Shuwen. He pushed up his glasses, and a hint of unease flashed in his eyes behind the lenses.

He never believed in ghosts or gods, but looking at these fluctuating numbers, a thought suddenly popped into his head: if the earth really had a pulse, its heartbeat must be erratic right now.

The two exchanged a glance but neither moved—Shi Linglong's voice continued to come from inside the tent, clear yet carrying an oppressive feeling that made people dare not interrupt.

The two young team members carrying the equipment boxes in the distance also stopped. Ma Xiaochuan, the young man who had previously exclaimed "each one better than the last," now lowered his voice and said to his companion:

"What are they talking about, 'the pulse of a colossal being'? It sounds so creepy..."

Ge Hongjun didn't respond, but silently placed the equipment box on the ground, his gaze unconsciously drifting to the thick rock layer beneath his feet.

He was fearless and had encountered wolves and flash floods in the wild, but he never backed down.

But at this moment, he suddenly felt that the ground beneath his feet didn't feel as solid as before.

Ding Haigang, the young male team member in charge of the soil-retrieving drill, was walking back with his tools when he heard the last few words outside the tent. He froze on the spot, almost dropping the soil-retrieving drill from his hand.

He opened his mouth, but ultimately didn't dare to make a sound and disturb them. He simply took two steps back and stood next to the other team members.

He thought to himself: So it wasn't just me who felt something was wrong. It turned out the stonemason had sensed it too.

Several people silently gathered together, their expressions gradually shifting from confusion to seriousness.

It was as if something unseen was slowly rising from the depths of the earth, and each of them vaguely sensed it.

At this moment, Shi Linglong's voice became even lower, even lower—

"...chaotic, disorderly, seemingly without any pattern. But at the deepest point underground, at least five hundred meters..."

The sharp, rational light in Shi Linglong's eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a faint yet profound searching.

That exploration contained confusion, awe, and also the instinctive fear and excitement of a geologist facing the unknown.

"I sensed an ancient, savage, and incomprehensible...inner rhythm."