As the eerie fog consumes the west wing and the surrounding area, I realize I am in danger. I hold back a panicked scream that would be all-to-natural, and feel a sense of pride in not giving away my position immediately. Instead, I rely upon my finely honed instincts to flee without a second thought. I turn and run, leaving Yang Lide to fend for himself, and dart into the billowing darkness.

‘Best of luck, Mister Yang, you seem more compet—ack!’

I slam headlong into an impassable barrier and rebound flat onto my back, dazed and in pain. I start nursing my battered nose with my hands and peer upwards, or in this case, back towards the west wing, to see how much danger I am in. My eyes widen in horror and I start scrambling to my feet.

A creepy, pasty-white naked woman with a too-wide mouth of vicious, pointed-teeth and a lower-body made of smoke, locks eyes with me. It is just long enough for me to realize I need to hide and for her to figure out that I am a very vulnerable victim. I don’t know what her grudge against me is, but I curse my bad luck, because I have no way to defend against a malevolent ghost-woman who wants me dead.

She wails like a predatory banshee, and I respond in kind, crying and screaming as I scramble back to the barrier and try to push my way through the fog. Despite looking like wispy clouds, the fog feels a lot like stone under my hands. Either way, I am not escaping through there, so I resort to the last thing I can think of: fighting back!

I take up a stance and prepare to strike the ghost, but just before we clash in my inevitable death, silvery chains sprout from the ground behind the ghost woman and latch onto her arms and torso, halting her charge. In the blink of an eye, Yang Lide twirls by, drawing his sword and re-sheathing it all in one immaculate motion. I let out a sigh of relief as the ghost woman’s head falls from her shoulders and her entire body erupts into a cloud of smoke and ash.

“Are you alright?”

His voice is filled with genuine concern for my well-being, so I nod and wipe the blood from my battered nose on my sleeve and rise to my feet.

“Stay behind me and I will keep you safe. However, we shouldn’t stay here.”

“What is all this?” I inquire without thinking.

“This? It is a domain created by a powerful ghost, but… that can wait until later, come with me!”

I nod again and scurry along behind him while watching the west wing out of the corner of my eye. The smokey ghost-lady wasn’t the only ghost, and not everyone had mister Yang protecting them. Several of the guards are dead, but despite their battered and broken bodies, they rise again under the compulsion of some evil entity to fight their former comrades.

More ghosts, in a variety of guises, assault the others, but have also taken to fighting among themselves. My knowledge of ghosts is very limited, so I can’t even speculate why they are turning against each other, but it is undoubtedly in my favor. If they keep each other busy with infighting, I have more time to escape!

“This will be good enough, I think,” Yang Lide whispers as we come to a stop further down the street.

I cannot fathom why. It is just as exposed as before. “Here? Shouldn’t we be hiding inside somewhere?”

He watches me gesture frantically to a small shop half-consumed by the perimeter of the barrier and shakes his head. “No, hiding won’t do us any good. We want to stay behind them.”

Yang Lide indicates the other daoists led by the gaunt-faced man. He has them organizing and fighting the ghosts as a cohesive unit, and it actually looks like they are winning. I hear them shouting, but only make-out-bits and pieces. The gaunt-faced man orders them to deploy a formation, and then they disperse.

‘Is he hoping the ghosts kill off his rivals?’ I peer at him with suspicion.

He seems to catch on to my concern. “The Xueliu sect are ghost cultivators, so they are experts at handling this type of situation.”

“Ghost cultivators?”

“Mhm. See the ghosts fighting each other? Some of those are under the influence of the Xueliu cultivators. As long as you keep behind them, you will be safe.”

“Me? What about you?” I wring my hands nervously as he starts walking away.

“What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t save those in need? I’ll send anyone else I can find your way, so make sure you let them know it is safe over here.”

I blink, stunned by the responsibility foisted upon me. “Eh?”

But he is already gone, so I scoot back a few paces and duck behind a stack of crates. The fleeting sense of security does a little to calm my nerves, but when a mother and two young children start coming my way, looking for the promised safety I signify, I grit my teeth and abandon my hiding spot.

I wave my arms frantically. “Over here!”

Gui Shengyue comes to an abrupt halt and fixes his gaze upon the west wing of the Clear Water Inn and groans. The air rumbles from high in the back of his throat, deep and guttural, not unlike someone suffering from severe constipation. Considering his gaunt-faced countenance and frail-looking body, it could be that, or any other number of afflictions plaguing his constitution.

“It seems the divinations were correct,” he mutters mostly to himself. “I can feel the veil weakening.”

“What do we do, master?”

He ignores Ling Zi, one of his four disciples, and places his hands behind his back while two of the guards scramble to greet them. Shengyue makes a mental note to reprimand Ling Zi later because she should know the answer to her own question by now. Alas, she is still the most promising of the four.

“I apologize, but we must ask that you turn back. This area is part of an ongoing investigation.”

Shengyue sways as exhaustion seeps into his body, and after an uncomfortable silence that has the guards questioning their next moves, his dark eyes lock with the guard that spoke. “I will speak to the officer in charge, and graciously forgive your lack of proper respect.”

The two guards tense up and quickly bow. “I am sorry! Please, forgive me.”

Shengyue resists the urge to discipline the pair right here in the street and grits his teeth. “If you force me to delay any further, no amount of begging will suffice. Either show me the way or stand aside!”

The guards recoil from his sharp command and beckon for him to follow. Shengyue lets his frustration simmer, rather than boil over, and proceeds without further comment. The more these fools delay him, the greater the risk. Every moment counts.

Shengyue’s arrival does not go unnoticed, and the frustrated officer disengages from the futile efforts of calming the woman in order to greet him. He bows politely, revealing that he is not a fool, unlike those under his command.

“He Fan greets you, daoists. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“The circumstances are precisely why I am here,” Shengyue mutters. “Someone, or something, is weakening the veil that separates us from the underworld, and I must find them and put a stop to it before it is too late.”

“The… the underworld? Here?” The officer glances to the now-barred door. “That woman’s husband was murdered this morning, and she and another woman have barricaded themselves inside. I thought they were merely grieving… how could they—”

Shengyue clicks his tongue. “The second woman is likely the problem here. It would not surprise me if we discover she is a charlatan with just enough skill to be dangerous.”

Considering the circumstances, the most likely culprit is a medium, legitimate or otherwise, who convinced the widow she can commune with her deceased husband and discover who murdered him. Unfortunately, these untrained hacks merely cause problems because they do not understand that the division between the mortal realm and the underworld is almost entirely one-way. It is disturbingly easy to enter, but almost impossible to leave — unless they have help.

Poking a hole in the veil might allow a singular ghost to escape, or in this instance, be bound and consulted. However, a medium does not really coax or coerce a ghost out of the underworld since they all crave freedom. The slightest opportunity will be seized, and that tiny hole is at risk of being torn open, allowing desperate and vengeful ghosts to spill free.

“What should we do? Consider my men at your disposal.”

“For now, I will take command, so just stand aside. We must put an end to this immediately!”

The hairs on the back of Shengyue’s neck rise, a mere moment before a woman screams. The chill that overcomes him is not a natural one, and his senses, opened to more than just the mortal realm, flare up. Howls and shrieks fill his ears, and an overwhelming pressure assails his sense of balance. Shengyue knows it is too late.

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As the second woman screams and is cut off, he takes hold of the officer’s collar and that of the guard with him, and then tosses them to the ground behind him as if they were disobedient children. Without missing a beat, he turns to the source of the underworld energies and growls.

“Shai Zi!” Shengyue’s hands come together and form a complex sign, just as the blue-black fog pours forth.

A roar echoes in the night as the entire area around the west wing is plunged into darkness. However, Shengyue, his disciples, and the few guards in close proximity, are not affected. The mighty ghostlord, Shai Zi, takes form around Shengyue in the guise of a wispy apparition mimicking his master’s hand seal.

“Defend yourselves!” Shengyue commands as a small, yet powerful barrier extends from Shai Zi’s silhouette. The qi barrier rebukes the swarm of lowly ghosts and hellish energies that threaten to wash them away like a tidal wave.

In the blink of an eye, the initial onslaught is behind them. Shengyue releases his hand seal and Shai Zi surges forward to engage the ghosts in battle, each of his four arms wielding cursed weapons that shred their ghostly bodies like paper. He is soon accompanied by the bound servants of his disciples, but there are far more ghosts escaping than he would like.

Unfortunately for them, they have nowhere to go. Whatever ghost established this hellish domain is not powerful enough to release them entirely, so they are confined to the west wing and the nearby streets. Even if they can not escape, Shengyue worries there may be hundreds of people in that small area, and they are completely defenseless.

He reaches to his hip, takes hold of his weapon’s hilt, and begins to draw it from the scabbard, but it belies its initial appearance as a sword. The thin metal blade is long, flexible, and pools at his feet until its entire length has been drawn. Shai Zi is certainly powerful, and more than capable of dispatching innumerable lower-tier ghosts on his own, but Shengyue is not one to stand idly by while his servant does the heavy lifting.

He moves, dancing forth to aid his servant, whirling the metal whip around his body like a ribbon-dancer, until a target presents itself, and then he strikes like a viper. The ghost, and three of its fellows, are split in two, howling in anguish as their energies are disrupted and pulled back into the underworld.

Ghosts swarm them, intent on claiming their bodies for themselves, so only a few seek out distant targets. One such ghost, a woman with a lower body of smoke, wails and charges a young lady struggling to escape the domain. He grits his teeth in frustration, because the ghost is well out of his reach, even with his metal whip, so there is nothing he can do. The girl will be just one of many casualties.

To Shengyue’s surprise, she survives, but not on her own. A familiar face comes to her rescue. His presence irks Shengyue, and he can’t help but scornfully growl his name.

“Yang Lide…”

The Taiyi sect fool has been a thorn in Shengyue’s side for some time, and he is blatantly trespassing an Xuelie sect territory, but his transgressions are temporarily forgiven. He saved the young lady and took her to safety behind them. Yang Lide may be a nuisance, but he is not a heartless one.

“We must put an end to this!” Shengyue shouts to his disciples. To their credit, and his pleasure, they are holding strong, but just fighting the ghosts as they come is insufficient. “Disperse and establish the Primordial Spirit-dampening Formation. Split into pairs and work together.”

Shengyue uses his freehand to pluck a talisman from his robe and then activates it, summoning forth a small bundle of stakes adorned with flags. They fall and clatter to the ground, but Ling Zi quickly divides them among the other disciples. Properly armed, they follow his orders and disperse.

“Officer He, get your men organized and in formation behind me,” Shengyue orders.

He Fan does not question him, nor does he hesitate. He promptly relays the orders to his beleaguered and struggling survivors and they start gathering around their officer. They have suffered casualties, but their resilience has impressed Shengyue. He makes another mental note, this time to commend them to their superior, whether they survive or not.

Shengyue is observant enough to get a sense for Yang Lide’s plan. Surviving residents are already making their way to the young lady he saved and placed behind him, so his strategic relocation of He Fan’s men will shelter them from harm so long as they live.

His whip lashes out, severing the legs of a red-skinned, wild-maned ghost who rushes at Shai Zi and furiously claws at the ghostlord. Shai Zi, showing some signs of distress from holding back so many ghosts on his own, merely drives one of his four swords down through the fallen ghost and banishes it without sparing it a glance.

Others come and fall against their wall of blades, and Shengyue begins pouring out qi to draw them in like a fiery beacon. His disciples are strong and reliable; he taught them well, after all, but taking on more burden to keep them safe is his role as their master, so Shengyue plans to face them all if he can.

And it appears to be working.

He senses the first flags of the formation a moment later, and gets a sense of where the remaining are. He only has to hold for a short while at this rate, but Shengyue starts to worry. Perhaps he bit off more than he can chew? He is an anxious man, and he knows it. His fears are many and they readily rear their heads, so Shengyue has a habit of quashing them all without properly reflecting upon them.

He groans again.

This is far too exhausting. Why is it always him? Why does he always have to deal with problems that are far too big for just him to solve? He remembers he is not alone. His disciples are here with him. This is a task suitable for the five of them. They will be fine.

Shengyue blinks in surprise as he feels a pain in his left arm.

He looks down to see a child-sized ghost has latched onto him and bitten deep into the flesh. Blood seeps from the wound and the pain begins to recede with it. It is not a concern. It is merely a bite wound.

No!

Poison!?

Shengyue dispatches the child-ghost with the spiked-pommel of his sword-whip. It pierces the ghost’s skull with ease and it vanishes with a cry. However, the damage has been done. Paralysis? No, he has been immune to poisons for many years. Half-distracted, he commands the whip with expert flicks of his wrist and turns his injured arm over.

Blackness oozes from the wound, but not blood. “Ah, I see…”

How long has that thing been biting him? He has no idea. However, it cursed him by doing so. The distractions, the idleness in his thoughts, the anxiety and worry, has it all been the curse?

How did the child-ghost even bite him in the first place?

Shengyue looks up at Shai Zi.

“So, that’s what it is.”

He hadn’t been bitten at all. Shai Zi, the ghost of a legendary warrior, and veteran of numerous wars and uncountable battles, has been pierced by a writhing black tentacle. Despite such grievous damage, Shai Zi fights on as if nothing happened. However, the curse transferred from the ghostlord to Shengyue through their bond, and the ghostlord’s manifested body is starting to crumble.

“Shai Zi! Return!”

His servant disperses and Shai Zi’s qi returns to the upper dantian in Shengyue’s forehead. Two more flags are planted as Shengyue’s whip shears through a trio of ghosts, and unlike those that had come before, they are not replaced by more. Instead, another inky black tentacle slithers from the doorway. More follow, and soon, a writhing mass of screaming and wailing faces press against the doorframe, unable to push their bulky form through.

“Disgusting…” Shegyue shifts his position, moving opposite from the guards and drawing the amalgamation’s attention away from the survivors. “You will return where you belong!”

With a quick motion of his free hand, Shengyue purges the curse from his body and is immediately rejuvenated. Even the bite wound is gone!

However, the swarm of ghosts has become an abomination. Absent the medium who tore the hole in it, the veil has started repairing itself, and the ghosts are trapped between the mortal world and the underworld. Unable to break free, the ghosts are breaking apart as the underworld calls them back, but the ghosts aren’t all equal.

The strongest persist, and as the weak disintegrate, the strong consume them, and eventually, only one remains. The ghosts lost their bodies, but their psyche persists. Filled with the remnants of hundreds of ghosts, the amalgamation is a mindless mass of emotion and desire. It is dangerous, and it is powerful. It wants nothing more than to escape at all costs.

It lashes out at Shengyue, numerous black tentacles surging forth like spears, sprouting hands and bony blades to grab and pierce his body, but his whip meets them and proves greater. Large pieces of the amalgamation drop to the dirt and disintegrate in bubbling pools of hissing ooze, but plenty remain to replace them.

“Those fools take their time,” Shengyue chides his absent disciples. “I will have to double their lessons for next month.”

“What about you, Gui Shengyue. You’re holding back when you shouldn’t be.”

Shengyue tenses up and then shoots a glare at Yang Lide. “Mind yourself, or I will remind you of your place.”

“Yes, yes… I’ve gathered up all the survivors. There’s no need to hold back. Besides, I always enjoy seeing you in action.”

“Hmph… The youth have no respect for their elders. Does the Taiyi sect abandon respect along with the other virtues?”

Yang Lide flips a stool upright with the toe of his boot and sits down. “It is my distinct pleasure to annoy you and remain your erstwhile rival.”

“You have more in common with a rash than any worthy rival.”

Yang Lide shrugs.

“You shall get your wish. My disciples have finished establishing the formation. Sit there and learn why I am your better.”

Shengyue pours some qi into his whip and the long, flexible blade coils and retracts, forming a traditional sword which he quickly sheathes. The struggling amalgamation sees that he is defenseless and suddenly lashes out. Shengyue rushes forward, slipping through its mindless offense like a stitching needle through fabric. He skids to a stop and his hands come together to form another complex seal, and by doing so, he becomes the final pillar of the Primordial Spirit-dampening Formation.

“Return to the underworld where you belong.”

A barrier forms within the domain, promptly cutting off the furthest reaches of it and releasing the survivors from their foggy prison. The amalgamation screeches in a hundred voices as the fabric of its being is weakened to the point of unraveling. Shangyue changes his hand seal and uses a spell to summon ghostly arms from the ground which reach for the amalgamation and take hold. The implacable fingers dig in, burning away the writhing mass as they pull pieces off and drag them back into the underworld.

“I was hoping for something with a little more... flair.”

“Were I to entertain your whims, the entire wing would be destroyed,” Shengyue scolds Yang Lide. “This spell may appear simple, but it will purge the entire area of ghostly matter and leave only the physical bodies of the slain behind.”

“Oh! Can I invite you to clean my place?”

“Do I look like a maid to you, Yang Lide?”

“Not one I’d hire! But I should be going before your kids arrive. They aren’t as tolerant as you.”

While Shengyue maintains his spell, Yang Lide slips into the shadows of the night and disappears.

“Should we go after him, master?” Ling Zi asks as she and the others arrive just in time to see him retreat.

“No, our responsibility is here. That annoyance can be dealt with later.”

The amalgamation’s last tendrils are pulled apart and carried off to where they belong. Ghosts were meant to suffer in the underworld, not escape to elsewhere. That very suffering cleans them of their sins so they may reincarnation and live again, hopefully as a better person. Shengyue does not care for those who try to avoid their obligations or responsibilities.

“Hmph… Tolerant? What a joke.”

“What was that, master?”

“Nothing,” Shengyue waves her curiosity away with his hand. “We’re done here, so let’s tend to the wounded. It will be good practice for your basic skills. I hope you’ve been training your injury reversal techniques. If not, I will discover it today!”