Chapter Eighty-Three: Nowhere to Run

After leaving the Watching Tide Inn, the brother and sister in cloaks walked in silence, blending their figures with the shadows beneath the eaves at the street corner.

Soon, the clatter of armored leaves and steady footsteps echoed as a squad of Demon Suppression Division soldiers, long halberds in hand, strode slowly from the far end of the avenue. The leading cultivator’s gaze was sharp, sweeping over the shadows on both sides. The brother and sister held their breath and stilled their presence, waiting until the soldiers had passed far down the street before revealing themselves from the darkness.

At last, the elder brother could not restrain himself. He lowered his voice and spoke to the woman at his side, “Junior sister, there’s something wrong with that inn, no matter how you look at it. The moment we stepped inside, I felt a chilling, sinister air.”

“When we spoke of grievances, the clueless little clerk could be excused, but that man who looked nothing like an innkeeper—and that noble young lord in brocade—neither showed the slightest change in expression. It’s obvious they already know something.”

“If you ask me, that evil spirit may well be something they’re raising themselves!”

The woman’s delicate face, half hidden beneath her hood, looked even paler in the shadow. She shook her head lightly, saying, “You may have a point, senior brother. This place does have the look of a black inn. But we know nothing of their true strength, nor the extent of that evil thing’s power. If we act rashly, I fear it will end badly for us.”

She paused, then continued, “Moreover, did you notice the young lord’s guards? Their breathing was steady and deep, their technique reminiscent—seven or eight parts—of the Demon Suppression Division’s own cultivators. Such men are far from ordinary bodyguards. There’s just the two of us—how could we possibly contend with them?”

Her brother, recalling the surge of murderous energy when those guards had rested their hands on their blades, felt a chill of dread. His earlier bravado faded, replaced by lingering fear. “You’re right, as always. So what should we do? If we don’t find some evil spirit to bring back, our master will be short of materials for his forging again. He’ll probably pick one of our unlucky brothers to feed the furnace instead.”

The young woman was silent for a moment, then sighed softly. “Let’s look elsewhere first. Zhenhai River is teeming with all kinds—surely this isn’t the only place. If we truly find nothing, we can return to test the inn’s secrets later.”

Hearing this, her brother felt somewhat relieved, but suddenly remembered something and whispered, “Junior sister, can you guess what was on my mind when that Demon Suppression Division patrol passed by just now?”

She was silent for a moment before sighing, “It’s pointless, brother. In their eyes, we look no different from those demons.”

“To turn ourselves in would be to exchange one cage for another. Once imprisoned in the Demon Suppression Dungeon, in less than three months, we’d become nothing but monsters who know only slaughter.”

…

Night settled like ink, and the sea wind carried a chill.

In a quiet chamber behind the Demon Suppression Division’s offices, Lin Jianyan slowly awoke from her stupor. Her head throbbed as if it would split, her limbs heavy and weak. Yet the icy, haunting chill that had clung to her spirit had truly faded by more than half, leaving her mind much clearer.

She sat up slowly, taking in the room’s sparse furnishings: a bed, a table, a single chair. On the table sat a bronze mirror, quietly reflecting the waning crescent of the moon outside the window.

Steeling her nerves, memories before her fainting fit returned in a rush. She’d been ambushed by some evil thing in the inn, lost her grip on her senses, and was rescued by Commander Ling Jue and Young Lord Chu, who brought her back here.

Afterward, she’d entered the Soul-Cleansing Chamber and requested the Spirit Warden’s aid in driving out the evil…

It seemed she was out of danger now.

A great weight lifted from her heart. She was about to rise from bed when she caught, drifting in through the window on the night breeze, the faintest trace of singing.

“Moon shining bright, lighting the hall.
Little child sits, stitching a gown…”

Lin Jianyan went rigid, her blood seeming to freeze in her veins.

That song… that song…

She whipped her head toward the window, but saw only moonlight as pale as water in a silent courtyard—no sign of anyone.

Yet the song grew clearer and clearer, as if the singer were crouched right behind her, its breath tickling her ear.

“Take a strand of hair, make a red thread for me.
Lend me a pair of eyes, let me see your ghostly face.”

A strange, indescribable dread crept through every corner of the quiet room, as if countless venomous eyes watched her from the shadows.

Trembling, Lin Jianyan reached out, clutching the glass palace lamp at her bedside and hugging it tightly to her chest. The faint, pale flames within offered a little warmth, which eased her terror somewhat.

On the table, the bronze mirror reflected everything in the room.

Lin Jianyan swallowed hard, her gaze unwillingly drawn to the mirror. She wanted to check: had anything changed on her face? Was there something unclean perched on her shoulder?

Step by step, she moved toward the table. Each pace felt harder than braving a mountain of blades or a sea of fire. At last, gathering her courage, she looked into the mirror.

The face reflected back was still her own: delicate and oval, with wide, deer-like eyes now round with terror.

Nothing amiss.

She let out a long breath, ready to mock herself for her wild imaginings. Before her tension could ease, however, the face in the mirror began to change.

Her own lips slowly curled upward, stretching into a stiff, eerie smile.

“No… how can this be…”

Lin Jianyan’s mind went blank. She could not believe what she saw.

“I’ve already had the evil driven out…”

Just then, the “self” in the mirror cocked its head and asked in confusion, “Why did you drive me away? Why won’t you play hide and seek with me?”

Lin Jianyan’s pupils shrank in horror. Instinctively, she tried to raise her right hand to touch her face, to see if it matched the mirror.

But the thought had barely formed when it was her left hand that moved!

A surge of terror overwhelmed her. She tried to cry out, but found her throat would not obey—her mouth opened, but only a layered, giggling “hee hee” sound emerged.

At the same time, her reflection in the mirror started moving on its own. Before her terrified eyes, “she” picked up the comb from the table and began to stroke her hair, one stroke after another.

With the first stroke, a bloody crack split the lips of the girl in the mirror.

With the second, Lin Jianyan felt a tearing pain at the corners of her own mouth.

By the third, she saw her reflection had vanished; the bronze mirror now reflected the room—everything but her.

Snap!

Unable to bear it any longer, Lin Jianyan slammed the mirror face-down on the table, heedless of damaging government property.

But the eerie voices did not stop—instead, they echoed from all directions:

“Let’s keep playing hide and seek.
I’ll seek, you hide.”

The words had barely faded when she heard the creak of a wardrobe door opening behind her.

Lin Jianyan dared not look back.

Moments later, the sound of nails scraping wood came from beneath the bed—scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch.

She dared not lower her head.

Those terrifying, uncanny noises drew ever closer, step by step. She felt utterly trapped, with no way to escape.