he stoplight above Lin Mo's office pulsed crimson.

He hadn't even stepped out of the elevator when the Bureau's overhead comms came alive with clinical finality.

"Director Lin, you are hereby suspended from duty. Effective immediately."

No warning. No hearing. No appeal. Just a sentence dropped like divine decree.

"Per Article 9 of the Divine Sovereignty Act," the voice continued, "your unauthorized audit of sealed celestial forges constitutes a violation of protected mythological assets. The Celestial Council has filed a Sovereign Intervention Notice."

Lin Mo walked the remaining corridor in silence. The walls, lined with mirrored panels etched in sigils, reflected his silhouette like fading copies. By the time he entered his office, three Bureau agents were waiting—back straight, hands tense. Between them stood a god.

Not just any god.

He wore ceremonial cloud-stone armor that rippled like vapor frozen mid-motion. Silver hair crowned his brow, and his pupils were forged mercury—inhumanly still. Above his head floated the sigil of the Celestial Council: three concentric rings orbiting a white flame.

He stepped forward, voice polished and condescending. "By order of the Council, surrender all investigative material pertaining to the Octagonal Furnace. Immediately."

"Under which subclause?" Lin Mo asked, without blinking.

"Subclause 117‑B. Post-Forge Immunity."

Lin Mo didn't flinch. Instead, he reached inside his coat, drew out a small silver plaque, and raised it to eye level.

"I invoke Protocol 315," he said evenly. "Special Motion Clause."

For a moment, the room froze.

The agents looked at each other, visibly unnerved.

The god's gaze narrowed. "You would weaponize mortal bylaws against divine oversight?"

"No," Lin Mo said. "I would apply the rules. That's what you're afraid of."

He stepped to his desk and unlocked a drawer. From inside, he withdrew a thick sealed folder,old-world paper, official red thread binding. He dropped it onto the table with a hollow thump.

"Clause 315 allows counter-investigation when obstruction, corruption, or divine interference compromises Bureau function. I'm filing a Special Motion. You have 48 hours. Then I'll give you everything you want,assuming I don't trigger a tribunal first."

The god's face remained unreadable. Then, without a word, he dissipated into mist. The agents stood for a moment, unsure, then turned and followed.

Alone again, Lin Mo locked the door. His hand trembled slightly. He sank to one knee beside the western wall.

A panel,long dismissed as ornamental,gave way with a quiet magnetic hiss.

Behind it, coated in dust and old memory, sat a forgotten console.

Not Bureau-issued. Not divine-grade.

Personal. His mother's.

It didn't hum when activated. It breathed,a warm, old breath, like fire barely alive in coals.

Glyphs blinked to life on the display, spilling ancient case files across the screen like bleeding ink. Most were corrupted. But one glowed faintly, as if aware of his presence.

Case ID: CRV-0714-Ω

Filed by: M. Lin

Subject: "The Alternate List of the Worthy Dead"

He tapped it.

A voice.

Faint. Strained. Familiar.

"If you're hearing this, Mo... it means I've run out of time."

His heart stopped.

Her voice.

"I found something buried. You thought the Investiture ended with the names on the list. But there was a second version,written in shadow, stored inside the gray band of the Civilizational Filter. It's subtle. Reality bends around it. Some souls weren't meant to ascend. Or reincarnate."

Static. Then:

"My last lead was someone marked as 'deleted from the mythos registry.' A recursion error. Shen Gongbao's remnant. I tracked it to."

The file glitched. The voice snapped off.

But the console stayed lit.

A new prompt blinked on a side screen:

"Initialize Civilizational Filter Ghost Key?"

Lin Mo hesitated.

Then pressed YES.

The room darkened. Light folded like paper around him. A projection blossomed above the console,a woman's figure, spectral and weary.

His mother. Or what remained of her. A consciousness fragment. A data-husk.

"If you found this," she said, voice brittle, "they've already started rewriting the story."

Lin Mo stepped closer. "What were you trying to stop?"

"Not stop," she said. "Delay. The list you know isn't complete. Someone edited the myth,altered the Investiture. But it's deeper than names. It's about the code behind them."

The projection crackled. She smiled, faint and tired.

"And you... you're not on the list either."

Lin Mo stood frozen as the light vanished.

Alone again, in a room filled with ghosts and secrets.