Chapter 77: Chaos

The shrine of the Shinto Exhibition Hall was now devoid of any unnecessary people, for the fire here was the most intense. As for the exhibits... anything not enclosed within a display case had been swallowed entirely by the flames.

The powder fire extinguisher I used managed to quench the peculiar fire, leaving even the firefighters at a loss for explanation, forced to assume that the blaze was simply too ferocious to be easily subdued.

Father and son, Qi Yan and Qi Guoheng, had just dashed over to the Brahman Exhibition Area, only to be swept apart in the crush of panicked crowds pushing and shoving from behind.

Qi Yan fared better; in this moment of crisis, he cared little for “order”—this was no race for a bus or queue for a movie ticket, but a desperate escape for survival!

Qi Guoheng, however, was less agile; his somewhat portly frame was shoved against the wall by the surging throng.

Qi Yan was about to flee with the crowd through the fire escape when he noticed his father was nowhere to be seen...

In such chaos, shouting was futile; he could only rely on his own eyesight, searching the crowd relentlessly, undeterred by the jostling bodies.

But it was not easy—hundreds of people, and overhead the fire suppression system showered water onto the blazing flames, creating a thick mist that mingled with the earlier smoke and dust, blurring his vision.

“Dad!... Old Qi!... Qi Guoheng!”

At a time like this, there was no taboo about a son calling his father by name—if he only called “Dad,” who would know which of the many calling for their kin he was?

“Qi Guoheng! Where are you?!”

He called five or six times without any answer, and panic crept in. If his father had already been swept out by the crowd, it would be fine; but if his middle-aged, slightly overweight father couldn’t keep up, a stumble could be disastrous—not suffocated by smoke, but trampled underfoot...

While others ran out, Qi Yan moved in the opposite direction, returning to the Brahman Exhibition Area. A uniformed staff member stopped him, “Sir, please evacuate through the fire escape…”

Before the sentence finished, Qi Yan shook off his hand, “Don’t touch me! My father is still inside!”

His mind, seized by anxiety and fear, surged with impatience; ignoring the staff’s obstruction, he charged back against the flow.

The overhead pipes continued to pour water, and in that brief moment, the red flames had diminished, but a thin layer of water now coated the polished floor.

Every step splashed up water, and the marble tiles, slippery by nature, became even more treacherous when wet.

---

Distracted by worry, Qi Yan lost his balance and fell backward, landing hard.

The pain in his backside didn’t delay him for long; he scrambled to his feet, still searching for his father’s silhouette in the mist.

Just as he was about to call out again, a flickering white light shone through the water vapor ahead.

A camera flash!

Qi Yan’s spirits soared; he rushed toward the light, sliding across the thin layer of water with a few swift strides.

Sure enough, Qi Guoheng had been knocked over by the crowd, lying on the ground and twisting his legs, one hand clinging tightly to his camera, the other clutching his chest.

When Qi Yan reached him and turned him over, he saw a grimace of pain contorting his father’s face.

“Dad, are you alright? Don’t scare me—were you trampled?”

Qi Guoheng gritted his teeth, and with Qi Yan’s help, managed to stand, though he appeared to be in severe pain.

“I’m… fine… why are you still here… hurry and run!” Though in such a wretched state, he tried to act tough, waving his hand lightly.

But no matter how hard he tried to hide it, his expression betrayed him—he was clearly suffering, and without Qi Yan’s support, he might not even be able to stand.

Seeing him clutching his chest, his shirt twisted out of shape, Qi Yan’s eyes widened in realization, “Dad… do you have a heart attack?”

Qi Guoheng’s symptoms were unmistakable: shortness of breath, a twisted face, hand pressed to his chest... signs of coronary heart disease.

This illness was dangerous. Initially, it manifested as occasional chest pain, especially during emotional stress or physical exertion.

Many middle-aged people ignored such symptoms; in the early stages, there might be no obvious signs.

Even if it flared up only every few days or weeks, the pain would eventually subside if endured.

But that was mere luck! Like cancer, if not detected and treated early, the condition worsens, and ultimately… any sudden attack could prove fatal.

Qi Yan had no time to ask further; he slung his father’s arm over his shoulder, and despite the difference in their weights, was determined to help him escape.

---

Delayed by these events, the Brahman Exhibition Hall was now nearly empty; most people and staff had already left. Compared to the previous chaos, a hush had fallen.

Thankfully, the fire was under control, no flames visible, though water still poured from above.

Qi Yan used all his strength to support his father toward the exit—running was no longer possible, so they could only move as quickly as circumstances allowed.

They avoided the fire escape, as the main entrance was nearer; father and son walked slowly through the water mist.

Though the threat of fire had passed, Qi Yan’s anxiety was even greater than before…

Once outside, he must get his father to a hospital at once—for heart disease, any delay could be fatal. Damn it—everyone else had fled so swiftly, there was no one nearby.

Fortunately, Qi Guoheng’s pale face had improved a little; the angina seemed to have eased for now.

Ahead, through the mist, a dark figure appeared in their view, standing before the Shiva statue encased in glass, not making any move to escape.

Qi Yan considered calling for help, but as he approached, he recognized the young man—it was the delicate-faced stranger from earlier!

Watanabe Shinji’s hair and clothes were soaked, yet he stood calmly, turning his gaze to the father and son. The three faced each other through the mist, all surprised.

Qi Guoheng was now better, though still weary and weak, but able to speak. “Young man, what are you doing standing there? Hurry up and get out!”

Qi Yan instinctively moved his father behind him, whispering, “Dad… leave him be. Don’t talk to that man.”

Watanabe Shinji looked intently at Qi Yan; this scene was reminiscent of their encounter at Haimu Valley—both times “rain” poured down, though last time was an outdoor storm, and this time, indoor fire sprinklers.

Qi Yan checked his pockets, pulled out the Yin talisman, gripping it tightly, his gaze fixed ahead, his vigilance heightened to the extreme.

Watanabe glanced indifferently at him and his talisman. “Save your strength. Look around—do you know what kind of place this is? The evil spirit in your Yin talisman doesn’t dare reveal itself here…”