The fog had gradually invaded the Second Waterway, the hazy, chaotic mist floating like a veil near the ceiling of the sewer corridor, giving the impression that the deep, heavy roofs had disappeared, and the Second Waterway was being gradually swallowed by the "sky."

A small, elderly man wrapped in an old coat was walking briskly through this strange and silent sewer corridor—decades had eroded his body. For many years, he had been unable to move so swiftly, yet for some reason, on this day, at this moment, he felt his body lighten again, as if youth had returned to his frame, the aching joints and weak muscles disappearing.

He walked faster and faster, the large wrench in his hand no longer as heavy as it had been at first. He quickly passed through the corridors and intersections he remembered, rushing purposefully towards a direction he could no longer recall, but which felt strangely familiar.

He had to catch up with the main force because the assembly time was approaching.

Suddenly, a pile of collapsed rubble blocked the old man's path.

"No way... no way?" The old man stopped, muttering to himself in astonishment as he looked at the collapsed stones. Chaotic memories reorganized themselves in his mind, trying to explain the existence of this collapsed area. He seemed to recall something—

Oh, explosives. The guards detonated the explosives buried in the corridor after retreating through the connecting shaft, so they could block the rebel army that had invaded the sewer.

But no, not entirely. This collapsed area seemed to be blocking more than just the rebels. Many years ago, when that young soldier lit the explosives... the corridor collapsed, blocking something else...

The old man stood blankly in front of the blocked corridor, then bent down and used the large wrench in his hand to knock on the stones in front of him, muttering incoherently.

This road should be open. It must be open, or he wouldn't be able to reach the assembly point. But it has collapsed. What should he do? A wrench can't fix collapsed stones...

A hazy mist suddenly appeared in his vision. The old man, who was knocking on the stones, looked up blankly, subconsciously taking a half step back. He saw wisps of mist escaping from the gaps in the piles of stones, slowly filling the entire corridor, filling his vision.

He heard distant murmurs and roars coming from the mist, followed by what sounded like a hoarse voice shouting, "Is this reasonable?!"

But no one appeared in the mist. As the mist drifted, the old man only saw the rubble blocking the road suddenly disappear.

The originally blocked corridor had become a clear path again. The gas lamps embedded in the opposite wall emitted a dim light. In the depths of the chaotic corridor, he could vaguely see black mud that seemed to have been dry for decades, quietly sleeping in the equally dry drainage ditch.

"The road is open... it's good that the road is open..."

The old man's mind faltered for a moment, as if he wanted to think about why the collapsed stones had suddenly disappeared, but soon, this question disappeared in his chaotic, entangled memories. He stepped forward without hesitation, stepping into the dimly lit corridor.

Agatha suddenly raised her head. The guardians and priests and nuns beside her also stopped immediately, everyone on edge, wary of any movement in the fog.

"Did you hear footsteps?" After two or three seconds, Agatha suddenly broke the silence. "Footsteps other than ours."

"Yes," the accompanying nun nodded lightly. "Just a moment ago, very faint, but very close, it was like..."

This was already deep in the Boiling Gold Mine. Following the direction pointed out by "Sergeant Bryde," Agatha and her team had arrived at this mine tunnel from the only passage in this direction, and even in such a deep place, the fog was still everywhere.

The lighting system was still working normally, the dim yellow light illuminating the supports in the mine tunnel and the track structure under their feet, and in the flickering light and shadows, there seemed to be some strange scenes.

Agatha saw two identical support pillars appearing on the opposite sidewall—the two support pillars were like mirror images, from the surface texture to the position of the stains.

And in another direction, she saw several crisscrossing roof beams piled together, their intersections seeming to be fused together.

The accompanying priest in the team raised his lantern, came to one of the strangely shaped support structures, observed it nervously, and then said in a low voice, "Gatekeeper..."

"I see it," Agatha interrupted the priest. Her tone was still calm. "Obviously, the 'counterfeits' are overlapping with our real world."

"The space where the counterfeits are located?" A guardian repeated subconsciously.

Agatha suddenly fell silent, as if she felt that annoying trance again, then she raised her hand to rub her forehead. "Yes, all the counterfeits should come from an abnormal space-time, and now all the evidence shows that this abnormal space-time is gradually approaching our real world, perhaps... perhaps we can call it a 'mirror'."

Cold, boundless cold, as if standing in an incredibly cold corridor, and the blood in her veins had long lost its heat.

But in the next second, this strange feeling disappeared, and the illusion of being in a cold, lonely corridor vanished. She was dazed for a moment, seeing her loyal subordinates still surrounding her, the light of the lanterns and gas lamps quickly dispelling the chill remaining in her consciousness.

"...is it because there's not enough time... or because it's too close..." Agatha muttered to herself subconsciously.

The nearby subordinates did not hear her mutter.

A guardian warrior was raising his lantern to look around, and suddenly seemed to have discovered something: "There's a person lying down over here!"

Agatha quickly came back to her senses, her expression straightened, and she quickly came to the place where the warrior had found the person.

A warrior wearing the equipment of the City-State Elite Guard was lying in the mine tunnel, looking like he had been dead for a long time.

Black combat coat, with a metal breastplate and steam-engine-driven power gauntlets on the outside, a steam backpack behind him, and a thick breathing mask on his face.

Agatha bent down, wiped the blood from the warrior's nameplate with her finger, and stared at the name quietly for a few seconds.

"It's Sergeant Bryde," she broke the silence softly.

Agatha didn't speak for a while.

The situation was the same as she had judged. A real Sergeant Bryde had fallen in this mine tunnel, and his replica had appeared in front of the church troops exploring the lower levels under the influence of the dense fog—the counterfeit was fake, but the information was real.

"There are corpses here too!"

Soon, another guardian warrior exploring forward raised his lantern high and called out in the distance.

More corpses appeared in the following mine tunnels.

Agatha quickly led the team forward and found more and more dead warriors in the depths of the mine tunnel—all of them were elite guards of the city-state, the trusted warriors of Consul Winston.

The causes of death varied, including wounds torn by sharp blades, blunt injuries caused by heavy blows, and even gunshot wounds.

Near these corpses, Agatha and her subordinates also found dried black mud, and if the mud were pieced together to form people, the number would probably far exceed the number of dead guards.

"...a long-lasting fierce battle. This force encountered enemies far outnumbering themselves in the mine tunnel, and they continued to advance hundreds of meters during the battle... Most of the warriors had run out of bullets, and in the end, they fought with bayonets and steam gauntlets."

Agatha checked the nearest corpses and made judgments based on the traces left on the corpses and the situation at the scene. At the same time, she felt a growing sense of unease in her heart.

Many warriors had fallen. The team led by Consul Winston was obviously in a bad situation, and this battle may have broken out hours ago—so much time has passed, is the Consul still alive?

As if to respond to the unease in her heart, a guardian warrior who was leading the way at the front of the team suddenly stopped.

"Gatekeeper, there's no road ahead!"

"No road ahead?" Agatha was shocked and immediately got up and walked forward.

The team arrived at the end of the mine tunnel, but there was only a flat, solid wall in front of them. There was no road, but this was obviously not normal.

Agatha quickly looked back in the direction she had come from, and saw the dead guard soldiers lying quietly in the darkness, and in these corpses, there was no sign of Consul Winston.

"There is only one road," Agatha immediately shook her head. "And based on the traces left at the scene, I don't think Consul Winston had a chance to find another way here with the remaining guards."

The priest frowned: "But this place is blocked..."

Agatha ignored him, but turned around and slowly walked towards the flat, solid wall.

After hesitating slightly, she stretched out her hand and tried to touch the wall.

Her fingers went straight into it.