Chapter Three: Twelve Water Stations

Dozens of palms struck it from outside, keeping the same rhythm as the chants rising from the stands. The stairs led beneath the pitch. The deeper they went, the more the cheering resembled a tide. After forty-seven steps, they found not an exit but an old scoreboard embedded in rock. It had no power, yet red digits glowed: 04/12. A water-damaged seating plan lay beneath it. The twelve stations formed a circle whose center was below the VIP stand, not midfield. Six digits marked every node. Beside 031742, arrows pointed to East Three, the seventeenth minute, and control relay forty-two beneath the scoreboard. Lin Xi finally understood.