Lei scrambled onto the catwalk of the massive gantry crane, the metal scorching his hands under the relentless morning sun. The crane operator's cabin was a hundred feet above the water, its long arm extending directly over the deck of the Jian Hua.
He heard the rising shout of the Night Watchers below. They had spotted him.
"FREEZE! Drop the pack!" the voice boomed, amplified by a loudspeaker.
Lei ignored the command. He ran the length of the catwalk, his heavy soles clattering loudly—a sound he couldn't mute now. He reached the central carriage and pulled himself onto the crane's hoisting cable, which was thick and oily.
He positioned himself over the ship and pulled the release lever. The carriage began to glide, carrying him rapidly along the boom, shrieking against the metal rail. This sound was massive, sustained, and totally focused on the ship.
The Night Watchers reacted instantly. Three agents broke formation and sprinted toward the Jian Hua's gangplank, while two others scrambled up the crane's ladder.
Lei was now directly over the ship's massive stack of containers, thirty feet above the main deck. He looked down and saw the ship's First Mate—a burly man with a weathered face and a distinct anchor tattoo—standing near a specific, unmarked container, nervously checking his watch. The man was alone.
Lei released the cable and plummeted the final few feet, hitting a stack of wooden pallets on the deck with a painful, bone-jarring impact. He rolled clear, grabbing the Key of Leda stone firmly in his hand.
The First Mate didn't flinch. He simply pointed toward the unmarked container. "Get in. Now."
But the Night Watchers were already on the deck. The three agents who had taken the gangplank now converged on Lei, weapons drawn.
"Final chance, Key Master! Drop the device!" the lead agent yelled.
Lei had no time to reach the container. He was trapped between the three armed agents and the ship's railing. He pulled out the Sonic Pulse Dampener one last time. Its amber light was blinking rapidly, its power almost entirely drained. He had one, maybe two short bursts left.
He aimed the dampener at the ship's own massive emergency horn, mounted on the central bridge structure.
Lei pressed the contact pad for a full second. The dampened spike, barely audible to Lei, impacted the delicate tuning fork of the horn's mechanism.
Instead of silencing it, the dying burst of energy overloaded the horn's controls, forcing the massive, pressurized signal out.
The horn blared a monstrous, sustained FOG HORN BLARE—a deafening, overwhelming sound that completely negated the Quiet Hours' pervasive control. The sound swallowed the agents' shouts, the ship's engine rumble, and every other acoustic reference point.
The three Night Watchers on the deck screamed, clutching their ears, their highly tuned senses utterly destroyed by the close-range, unplanned sonic weapon. Their formations broke instantly, and they fell back, blinded by the raw power of the industrial noise.
Lei seized the moment. He ran to the First Mate and shoved the small, smooth stone into the man's waiting hand.
"The Key of Leda," Lei gasped.
The First Mate nodded once, his eyes wide with adrenaline. He led Lei to the container, which was cleverly lined with acoustic foam and reinforced steel. He threw open the door and Lei scrambled inside, surrounded by crates labeled "Machine Parts."
The door slammed shut. The latch clicked, securing Lei in utter darkness.
A moment later, the deep, powerful shudder of the ship's main engine shifted into its highest gear. The Jian Hua was pulling away from the pier.
Through the darkness, Lei heard the muffled roar of the remaining Night Watchers trying to reach the bridge, and the desperate chatter of their radios as they realized their target had escaped.
As the cargo ship moved into the open water of the Pearl River, Lei pulled out his burner phone—the one he'd recovered after it had drawn the first Ghost—and connected to the ship's low-orbit satellite WiFi, a service Mr. Hu had pre-paid.
He needed to confirm the truth had started to spread. He accessed a global news feed.
The top headline, displayed prominently on every major international news network, was not about the city's survival, but about its impossible oddity.
GLOBAL SENSORS BAFFLED: 'SILENT GHOSTS' FREEZE ACROSS GUANGZHOU
Early reports from China indicate a mass, inexplicable immobilization of the so-called 'Jìngwù' creatures. Experts confirm the total cessation of creature activity precisely at the 05:00 mark, coinciding with a massive, brief energy surge detected from the Pearl Tower. The creatures appear 'locked' in place, though Chinese authorities maintain standard Quiet Hours protocols are still necessary.
The world was witnessing the truth, but the government was already spinning the narrative.
Lei was exhausted, heartbroken, and hunted, but he had the proof of the conspiracy, and he had a destination: Macau. He knew the fight wasn't over. It had just gone global. He closed his eyes, the deep rumble of the cargo ship's engines now replacing the silence of the night, carrying him toward his next mission: turning the world's confusion into revolutionary knowledge. The silence was broken, but the war for the truth had just begun.