The three of them reached the center of the sports field. Officer Li lit a cigarette for himself and Qi Xia.

Han Yimo smiled awkwardly, placed the cigarette between his lips, and asked, "How do you smoke this?"

Officer Li reached over, plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and shoved it back into the pack. "Like hell you’re learning! Do you know how much I envy non-smokers? This thing is all harm and no benefit. Best if you never start."

"Huh?" Han Yimo blinked in confusion. "But Officer Li, you just said..."

Qi Xia raised his hand, cutting him off. "Han Yimo, what is the {Seven Evil Sword}?"

"Ah...?" Han Yimo froze. If Qi Xia hadn’t brought it up, he might have forgotten that strange event altogether.

In his previous instance, Han Yimo had been pierced through the abdomen by the {Seven Evil Sword}.

He paced back and forth a few times before finally raising his head. "Sixty years ago, there was a notorious figure in the martial world, known everywhere as the {Punisher of Evil}, called {Chu Qi}. He wielded a heavy greatsword and, paired with his elusive qīnggōng[1], would {reward the virtuous and punish evil} however he pleased. Those he deemed {virtuous} were rewarded with one and seven-tenth taels (85 grams) of fine silver, while those he judged {evil} were pierced through the dantian[2] by his greatsword. For a time, the entire martial world was in turmoil, with people unsure whether they would be seen as virtuous or evil."

"The greatsword itself was pitch-black—its blade, spine, edge, guard, pommel, tassel, even its scabbard all dyed in the deepest shade, which earned it the name {Seven Evil Sword}."

Officer Li, stunned by the tale, stepped forward and tapped Han Yimo on the head.

"Hey!" Han Yimo jumped. "What are you doing, Officer Li? I was in the middle of explaining—"

"You think this is the first time I’ve interrogated someone?" Officer Li asked with a crooked smile. "Rascal, the way you’re looking at me makes it obvious—you’re making this up. Cut the crap and tell me the truth."

"This is what I made up!" Han Yimo blurted anxiously. "I worked hard to come up with this story... I really put effort into it!"

"Is this your story?" Qi Xia suddenly asked.

"Yes." Han Yimo nodded. "According to it, this chivalrous man, {Chu Qi}, was eventually betrayed by a treacherous villain. Everyone thought peace would return to the martial world, but unexpectedly, the {Seven Evil Sword} didn’t disappear. It kept appearing and vanishing mysteriously, continuing to {reward the virtuous and punish the evil}. Yet no one ever saw its wielder. It was ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ as if the sword itself had gained life, and at the crack of dawn, it would pierce someone’s dantian..."

Officer Li tried to digest the bizarre account, then asked, "And what does that have to do with you being killed?"

"If anyone’s to blame, it’s my overactive imagination..." Han Yimo admitted with a sheepish look. "Have you ever felt like... the {inability to cork one’s imagination}?"

Qi Xia shook his head. "Sounds a little abstract."

"To put it simply," Han Yimo gestured at his forehead, "my mind is always overflowing. If I can’t find an outlet to release the torrent of thoughts inside, it feels like I’ll suffocate. So I’ve experimented with different ways. At first, I tried drawing. But I’d never had formal training, so my brush couldn’t capture what I saw in my head. Eventually, I turned to writing."

Officer Li took a drag of his cigarette, then chuckled. "I’ve heard of people spending their whole lives trying to be writers and failing, and you ended up {forced into it}?"

"Pretty much." Han Yimo nodded. "There’s always a world in my mind, waiting to spill out. I can’t stay locked in a confined space, or my thoughts spiral into uncontrollable chaos."

Qi Xia seemed to catch on. "So... you’re saying this sword is the product of your {chaotic thoughts}?"

"It has to be," Han Yimo replied, his face turning serious. "In that pitch-dark dawn, I was trembling. I’m terrified of darkness, afraid I might die in it. Then my thoughts started racing, and I began to worry that the {Seven Evil Sword}—just like in my story—would pierce my dantian."

Qi Xia paused, a faint realization stirring.

Back in the interview room, Han Yimo had also feared the harpoon would impale him. If not for Qiao Jiajin intervening, he would have {made his dream come true}.

"And in the end, I really was pierced..." Han Yimo gave a bitter smile. "This place is unbelievable. I’d recommend all writers come here once. Spend a single day here, and you’ll never run out of inspiration again."

"No, that’s not the point, is it?" Officer Li frowned, recognizing the absurdity. "By your logic... the {Seven Evil Sword} shouldn’t even exist. It’s just your imagination. So how could it pierce you?"

"I don’t know," Han Yimo shook his head. "It felt so strange... When I saw the {Seven Evil Sword}, I was both happy and afraid. Every writer dreams of seeing their world come alive, but when something from your story really does, who wouldn’t be terrified?"

Yes, it was an utterly bizarre feeling.

Qi Xia rubbed his chin, trying to piece things together.

Han Yimo had feared the harpoon would pierce him—so trembling and fear made sense. But what about the {Seven Evil Sword}?

How did that fit in? Did he somehow foresee it would pierce him, which was why he was so afraid all night?

But that sword, in theory, should never have existed. So what exactly was he afraid of?

{Beckoned Calamity}...

Qi Xia’s eyes slowly widened.

Wait a second...

If Han Yimo could foresee danger, then this {Reverberation} shouldn’t be called {Beckoned Calamity}, but something like {Calamity Avoidance} or {Precognition}...

So why is it {Beckoned Calamity}?!

In that instant, Qi Xia felt as though thunder had struck him. His entire line of reasoning was flipped upside down.

The harpoon never should have pierced Han Yimo!

The {Seven Evil Sword} never should have killed him!

All of it happened because of Han Yimo’s {summoning}! He believed the harpoon would pierce him, so no matter the obstacles, it inevitably struck.

He believed he would die by the {Seven Evil Sword}, so even if it had to materialize out of thin air, it would pierce his dantian.

As long as Han Yimo believed calamity would come, it would. That is what {Beckoned Calamity} truly meant!

Qi Xia took a slow step back. The young writer before him now felt like immense danger itself. He had once thought keeping him close might help avoid disaster—but Han Yimo’s very existence was a walking calamity.

The second bell still hadn’t rung; Han Yimo remained trapped within {Beckoned Calamity}.