Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Chapter 485: infiltrating the station 3

Lucas maintained his steady pace as he moved along the row of converted storage buildings, his posture relaxed and disciplined like any other guard on routine inspection, yet beneath that exterior, his attention was razor sharp, every step calculated as he subtly shifted his path closer to the structures they had already identified as likely holding areas. Darmian remained within sight at his assigned position, while Patrick continued to play his role flawlessly, occasionally issuing quiet instructions to other guards to maintain the illusion of authority, giving Lucas just enough freedom to move without drawing suspicion.

As Lucas approached the first of the reinforced storage doors, he paused just long enough to make it seem routine, his hand brushing lightly against the handle as he opened it with controlled ease, stepping inside without hesitation. The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt it again, that unnatural suppression pressing against him, heavier inside than it had been outside, as though the very air rejected the presence of Qi, and his senses, which had been sharp moments ago, dulled instantly, unable to grasp anything beyond the physical.

Inside, the space was dimly lit, the structure stripped of its original purpose and crudely repurposed into a holding area, and it did not take long for his eyes to land on a figure seated against the far wall.

Sage Raph.

Lucas’ gaze hardened slightly as he took in the man’s condition, because the once composed and knowledgeable figure he remembered was now barely recognizable, his body frail, his posture slumped, his breathing shallow, as though whatever had been done to him had drained not just his strength, but something deeper. Lucas stepped closer, careful to maintain the act even now, his voice shifting slightly as he called out in the tone of a guard, "You, get up," keeping it firm but not overly aggressive, just enough to avoid suspicion if anyone happened to be listening.

There was no response.

Sage Raph did not move.

Lucas’ eyes narrowed slightly as he crouched just enough to get a better look, his voice lowering as he repeated, "Can you hear me," but still, nothing came from the man, not even the slightest reaction, and for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossed Lucas’ expression as he studied him more closely, confirming what was already clear.

He was alive.

But barely responsive.

Lucas straightened slowly, his jaw tightening as he understood the situation, because whatever state Sage Raph was in, he would not be able to move on his own, not without help, and that complication settled heavily in his mind as he stepped back, forcing himself to remain composed before turning and leaving the room as naturally as he had entered.

He closed the door behind him and continued along the row, his pace unchanged, his expression neutral, yet his thoughts now sharpened with urgency, because finding one of them had only confirmed that they were on the right path, but it had also revealed just how fragile their situation truly was.

He moved to the next storage building, repeating the same process, opening the door with controlled ease and stepping inside, his senses again dulled by the suppression field, his gaze scanning the dim interior until—

He stopped.

There.

Standing within the confined space, her figure worn yet unmistakable.

Lady Isabelle.

For a brief moment, time seemed to still, not outwardly, not in any way that would betray him, but internally, because after everything, after the uncertainty, after the search, he had found her, and though her appearance had changed, marked by exhaustion and captivity, there was no mistaking who she was.

His expression remained controlled, his posture that of a guard, but his eyes met hers, and in that single moment, something passed between them, silent yet undeniable.

Recognition.

And confirmation.

He stepped further inside, closing the door behind him with quiet precision, his voice low now, no longer carrying the tone of a guard as he said, "Lady Isabelle," keeping it just above a whisper, controlled and steady, yet carrying the weight of everything that had led to this moment.

Lucas held her gaze for only a brief second longer after speaking her name, because even that alone was already a risk, and the last thing he could afford right now was drawing unnecessary attention, so before Lady Isabelle could respond or take a step forward, he gave the slightest shake of his head, his expression tightening just enough to convey urgency without panic. His eyes flicked briefly toward the door and then back to her, and with a subtle motion of his fingers at his side, he signaled clearly, a silent instruction shaped through intent rather than words.

Wait.

I will return.

Lady Isabelle stilled immediately, her breath catching softly as she understood him without hesitation, because even without words, the meaning was clear, and though everything in her wanted to speak, to close the distance between them, she restrained herself, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides as she gave the faintest nod in response. Her voice did not come, but her eyes said enough, trust, relief, and a fragile but growing hope.

Lucas did not linger any longer.

He turned, his posture shifting back into that of a guard as if nothing had happened, and with calm precision, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him without a sound. The moment he was outside, his expression returned to neutral, his pace steady as he resumed his patrol route, blending seamlessly back into the flow of movement within the compound as though he had simply completed a routine check.

He did not head directly toward Patrick or Darmian immediately, because doing so too quickly would appear unnatural, instead, he maintained the rhythm of his assigned path, circling through the area with controlled patience, allowing enough time to pass before gradually adjusting his course. His eyes remained forward, but his awareness tracked their positions, and once the timing aligned, he shifted naturally, crossing paths with Darmian first.

As they passed each other, Lucas spoke just under his breath, his lips barely moving as he said, "Found them," the words so quiet they blended into the ambient noise, yet clear enough for Darmian to catch. Darmian did not react outwardly, his expression unchanged as he continued walking, but the slight tightening of his jaw was enough to show he understood.

Moments later, Lucas moved toward Patrick, who was still maintaining his role, occasionally addressing nearby guards with quiet authority, and as Lucas approached, Patrick turned slightly as if to give an instruction, using the moment as cover, and Lucas spoke in the same controlled manner, "Both of them, separate rooms, Sage Raph is weak, barely responsive," his tone calm but carrying the urgency beneath.

Patrick’s eyes sharpened slightly, though his expression remained composed as he replied in a low voice, "And Lady Isabelle," and Lucas answered, "Conscious, stable, but we can’t delay," his gaze shifting briefly toward the storage buildings before returning forward.

Patrick gave a small nod, his voice steady as he said, "Then we move soon, but not rushed, we only get one clean chance at this," and Darmian, now looping back into proximity, added quietly as he passed behind them, "We’ll need a distraction, something small, enough to shift attention without raising alarms."

Lucas considered that for a brief moment before responding, "No chaos, nothing loud, we create an opening, not a scene," his tone firm, reinforcing the need for precision over aggression.

Patrick exhaled slowly as he adjusted his stance, his voice calm as he said, "Then we control the guards here, reassign positions, thin the numbers near the storage, and when the moment comes, we extract them and leave before anyone notices," and Lucas gave a slight nod, his eyes narrowing faintly as he said, "Fast and clean."

For a moment, the three of them stood within the flow of the compound, appearing as nothing more than guards carrying out their duties, yet beneath that illusion, the final phase of their plan had already begun to take shape, and this time, there would be no turning back.

Patrick straightened slightly as the brief exchange ended, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly yet decisively into that of someone accustomed to command, and in that moment, he fully embraced the role his stolen armor represented, allowing the authority of a senior guard to settle naturally over him as he cast a measured glance across the area, his eyes sharp as he assessed the positioning of every guard within sight. Without hesitation, he began to move, his steps deliberate and confident, no longer blending in as just another soldier, but standing out just enough in the way a superior officer should, commanding attention without inviting scrutiny.

He raised his voice just slightly, not loud enough to alarm, but firm enough to carry as he addressed a nearby group of guards, saying, "You two, rotate to the outer perimeter, we’ve had reports of gaps along the fence line," his tone leaving no room for argument, and the guards responded instinctively, nodding as they immediately moved to comply, their departure subtly reducing the number of eyes around the storage section.

Patrick did not pause, already turning his attention elsewhere as he gestured toward another pair, his expression mildly irritated as he said, "Why are you still standing here, shift your positions and cover the west side, I don’t want anyone idling without purpose," and again, his authority held, the guards moving without question, their focus entirely on following orders rather than questioning them.

From a short distance away, Lucas observed the changes without appearing to do so, his gaze forward, his stance relaxed, yet his mind tracking every movement Patrick orchestrated, recognizing the precision behind it, because this was not random reassignment, it was calculated, thinning the density around the storage buildings while maintaining the illusion of structured patrols. Darmian, on the opposite side, mirrored that awareness, subtly adjusting his own position to align with the shifting guard placements, ensuring that when the moment came, they would all be exactly where they needed to be.

Patrick continued, moving through the area with controlled authority, occasionally stopping to correct a stance, redirect a patrol, or issue a quiet reprimand, all of it reinforcing the image that he belonged in that position, and with each order given, the space around the target buildings became just a little less crowded, just a little easier to maneuver through without drawing attention.

After a few minutes, he finally slowed, his eyes sweeping the area one last time before he positioned himself near a point that allowed him clear oversight, his expression calm, as though satisfied with the adjustments he had made, and without directly looking at them, he gave the faintest shift of his hand at his side, a subtle signal meant only for Lucas and Darmian.

Lucas caught the signal immediately, his posture remaining unchanged as he began to move, his steps measured as he adjusted his path toward the storage buildings once more, while Darmian followed suit from the opposite direction, their movements synchronized without appearing coordinated. There was no rush, no sudden urgency, only controlled intent, because this moment, fragile and fleeting, was the opportunity they had created.

And if they failed to use it perfectly, there would not be another.