The trail vanished. Su Yao’s eyes narrowed, tracking the spiritual signatures. Twelve distinct echoes shot across the city, splintering the assassin’s escape into a masterpiece of misdirection. The deception was brilliant, designed to leave any pursuer chasing ghosts.
“Annoying,” Su Yao muttered, the word a blade of cold air. Yet, a flicker of professional respect sharpened her gaze. She could not chase all of them, especially with her aunt, Xiao Ling, swaying faintly beside her.
With a sharp intake of breath, Su Yao bit the tip of her thumb. She flicked twelve droplets of blood into the air. The drops shimmered, swelling, and hardened into twelve perfect copies of Xiao Ling.
“Find them,” she commanded.
The twelve clones nodded as one, launching themselves like arrows into the night. Su Yao, the original, stayed put. She gently guided her aunt to a low, stone bench.
“Just breathe, Auntie. The city air is heavy tonight.”
The psychic feedback struck her a few minutes later as a series of physical jolts.
Clone 3:
It chased a flickering shadow down a storm drain. Then the concrete floor dissolved. A pool of liquid darkness swallowed the space beneath its feet. Skeletal, piranha-like shapes swarmed. The last sensation was a thousand needle-teeth tearing its spiritual form to shreds. Gone.
Clone 7:
It stood in a silent, abandoned subway tunnel. The trail ended at a rusted steel door. As the clone reached for the handle, ancient, glowing script flared to life on the grime-caked walls. A dry, final voice echoed, “Trespasser. Be purged.” A whip of condensed curse-energy lashed out, slicing the clone in half. Gone.
Clone 11:
It entered a derelict temple. The clone’s steps echoed in the vast, empty space. A massive, ethereal figure with tattered armor and empty sockets for eyes materialized. The phantom figure raised a halberd. The clone barely had time to raise its hands. “DIE!” The memory ended with a sound like shattering glass. Gone.
More deaths followed, a rush of failures. A fall from a collapsing radio tower. A cave-in at a construction site. The assassin had led each clone along a false trail that ended in a pre-existing death trap.
The final memory hit hardest. That clone had followed the most convincing scent into the walk-in freezer of a closed butcher shop. The air was frigid, the darkness absolute. Then, a glint of metal flashed in the shadows.
A spiritual bullet, cold and precise, took the clone in the forehead. As it dissolved, its fading vision caught a glimpse of the shooter: a figure in matte-black tactical gear, face hidden by a smooth, light-absorbing helmet. The assassin had waited personally to clean up the most promising trail.
Back on the bench, Su Yao’s body jolted one last time. A thin trickle of blood ran from her nose. She wiped it away with her sleeve. Her expression one of cold, thrilling exhilaration.
Her aunt looked over, concerned. “A-Ling? Your nose!”
“Allergies,” Su Yao said flatly. The enemy is good. They weaponized the entire city against me.
She helped her aunt rise. “Let’s get you home. You need rest.”
Su Yao flagged a taxi, bundled her confused aunt inside, and shut the door. “Go straight home,” she instructed the driver, slipping him a large bill. The moment the car pulled away, her expression shifted from caring niece to focused predator.
She followed the silence. The one direction where the spiritual echoes had been perfectly, professionally cleaned.
It led her to a rooftop overlooking the slaughterhouse district.
The assassin waited, leaning against a ventilation shaft. Their matte-black helmet reflected no light, a void in the city glow. They made no move to run.
“You're more trouble than the briefing suggested,” a synthesized voice grated from the helmet.
In a blur, the assassin drew a spirit-metal dagger and lunged. Su Yao sidestepped. The blade passed so close it parted the air by her cheek. She retaliated with a palm strike, a blow that should have fractured concrete. The assassin twisted, the blow grazing their armor in a brief shower of sparks.
They were incredibly fast and strong. Each block and counter was precise, stripped of any wasted movement, brutally effective.
Su Yao laughed, a genuine sound of delight. She blocked a kick aimed to take her head off. “You're this powerful! Why all the tricks? The false trails? The traps?”
The assassin spun, their dagger tracing a deadly arc. “What kind of assassin would I be if I didn't use tricks?” the synthesized voice rasped, even. “Strength is a tool. Deception is the craft.”
They fought across the rooftop. The assassin used every advantage, throwing micro-explosives for blinding flashes, kicking up gravel to mask movement. It was the most challenging, most entertaining fight Su Yao had enjoyed since waking up in this era.
Finally, she saw an opening. She feinted high, then swept the assassin’s legs, sending them crashing onto the gravel. She planted a foot on their chest, pinning them.
Su Yao studied the prone figure. She could end it instantly, but that would be a waste. The thrill of the chase and the rarity of the skill deserved more.
“You fight well,” she said, removing her foot. “Get up.”
The assassin rose warily. “You're letting me go?”
“This was the most fun I've had in ages,” Su Yao admitted. “It would be a shame to end it here. So, I’ll make you a promise. Get stronger. Much stronger. And find me again. Let’s do this properly next time.”
The assassin stared, disbelief evident even through the helmet. “You're insane.”
“I’m not mad at all. I’m just differently sane.”
Su Yao moved faster than the eye could track and lunged forward. Before the assassin could react, she bit down on their neck, just above the armor’s seam.
Her teeth pierced the skin. A single drop of her demonic essence, mixed with a complex sealing formula, entered the assassin’s bloodstream. She released them and stepped back.
The assassin clutched their neck. A faint, intricate mark already glowed there. “What did you do?”
“An incentive seal,” Su Yao said calmly. “It will settle near your heart. If you don’t grow significantly stronger and provide me with a worthy rematch, let’s say, within five years, it will stop your heart. Consider it a deadline for your training.”
The assassin touched the seal, feeling the potent, dangerous energy thrumming within them. It was both a death sentence and an irresistible challenge.
“Now,” Su Yao said, turning her back and walking to the roof’s edge. “Get out of here. Go train. I'll be waiting.”
Standing on the rooftop after the assassin departed, Su Yao touched her own lips. A thoughtful frown creased her brow. The residual energy of the custom-made seal tingled on her tongue.
Why didn’t I think of this sooner? she mused, watching the city lights twinkle below. All those promising challengers, all those drinking buddies who got soft and boring… I should have branded them all.
A permanent, ticking motivation to improve. It was so elegant. Instead of lamenting the decline of worthy opponents, she could actively curate their growth.
The seal’s design, an intricate pattern binding itself to the target’s life force, floated in her mind’s eye. The current trigger was ‘failure to achieve a predetermined power level within a timeframe.’
But that wasn’t its original purpose.
A dry chuckle escaped her. The Adulterer’s Lament.
That was what her old friend, Jinse, the Goddess of Binding and Contracts, had called it.
Jinse, a minor deity famous for marriage fidelity seals, had created this specific design for a heartbroken river goddess. If the goddess’s philandering husband so much as kissed another woman, his heart would stop. Permanently.
Gods, demons, humans, Su Yao thought with a wave of dismissive amusement. They’re all the same thing. Just different job titles assigned by a celestial HR department. A ‘god’ is just a spirit with a government pension plan. A ‘demon’ is a freelancer they failed to tax.
She smirked at the memory. Jinse, a ‘deity,’ had been a gossipy, paranoid mess who loved spicy rice cakes.
She looked toward the direction the assassin had fled. The seal on their neck was a masterpiece of ironic repurposing. A tool for punishing broken vows had become a tool for enforcing self-improvement vows. It was almost poetic.
Much better use, she decided, turning to leave the rooftop. Preventing cheating is a petty concern. Forcing someone to become a better fighter for my amusement? Now that’s a worthy application of divine art.
She made a mental note to dig up more of Jinse’s old designs. The celestial world was probably still using them to stop spouses from straying. What a waste. She could use them to build an entire stable of rematch-ready opponents.
The night was still young. Suddenly, the future looked a lot more entertaining.
Su Yao’s phone buzzed as she walked home. A text from Zhang Wei.
Zhang Wei: Hey. About the amusement park this weekend. I think we should cancel. I’m getting a bad feeling. There’s news about ride safety issues.
A second message followed, a link to an article: “Sky-Rocket Roller Coaster at Fantasia Park Shut Down After Unexplained Malfunction; Management Claims Issue Resolved.”
Su Yao skimmed it. The report was vague, citing ‘technical difficulties’ and ‘sensor ghosts,’ but assured the public that all problems were fixed.
She typed a reply.
Xiao Ling: The article says the problem has been fixed. What’s the issue?
Zhang Wei: It’s not just that one ride! Other people online are talking about weird stuff. Cold spots. Things moving. It’s not safe!
Su Yao’s eyes gleamed. The anomalies bore the unmistakable signature of spiritual disturbance. The park’s systems were failing because something powerful was attacking, its presence strong enough to disturb physical machinery.
Xiao Ling: So the professionals have inspected it and given the all-clear, but you know better?”
Zhang Wei: I just have a bad feeling! Can’t we just cancel our trip instead?
A slow, predatory smile spread across Su Yao’s face. She now wanted to go to the amusement park more than anything.
Xiao Ling: Let me guess. This sudden concern for ‘safety’ wouldn't have anything to do with you having already made plans with another woman for Saturday, would it? This is just a convenient excuse.
The response was immediate and panicked.
Zhang Wei: WHAT? NO! Of course not! It’s not like that at all! I’m just concerned!
Xiao Ling: Good, then your concern is noted and dismissed. We are going to the amusement park. I want to see these ‘sensor ghosts’ for myself.”
She put her phone away. An entity strong enough to haunt the machinery of a modern amusement park hinted at power and danger, a situation that promised a real challenge.
The ‘technical difficulties’ were an invitation. Su Yao never turned down a fun invitation.
Except, a dry, venomous thought surfaced, for that one time.
The memory was brief, an ugly flicker. An upstart demon lord, new to his power and bloated with arrogance, had invited her to a ‘private viewing’ of his newly acquired celestial treasures. The invitation was laced with a pathetic compulsion charm.
She’d gone, of course.
The ‘viewing’ in his opulent pavilion offered no treasures. He spent the evening making lewd suggestions, his eyes glued to her. A ‘jade beauty’ like her, he insisted, should ‘share the burden’ of his rule. He even had the gall to suggest she remove her robes to ‘cool down.’
Su Yao endured it for exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds. Long enough to confirm his intentions and finish her cup of wine.
Her past self stayed silent, expression calm. Setting the cup down, she met his eyes. “The only thing that will be removed tonight is your capacity for thought.”
Then, she unleashed a fraction of her aura, a fleeting glimpse of her true, oceanic power. The demon lord’s smug expression shattered into pure, primal terror. He collapsed to his knees, vomiting, his mind unable to process the magnitude of what he was sensing.
She left him there. His staff found him the next morning, permanently addled, endlessly muttering about “the abyss in a woman’s eyes.” His territory was absorbed by rivals within a week.
Shaking off the memory, Su Yao refocused on the park. Zhang Wei’s fear was pathetic, but the amusement park promised real fun. Something powerful enough to bend steel and circuitry to its will.
Her phone buzzed again with another pleading text from Zhang Wei.
Zhang Wei: Please Ling Ling, be reasonable!
Su Yao typed back a single, final response, her fingers tapping with decisive force.
Xiao Ling: 10 AM. Saturday. Bring your courage. Or don't. The rides await.
This invitation, she would accept. If something at the park had the poor taste to hit on her, she knew how to deal with that, too. But she had a feeling this would be much more interesting.
Su Yao was weighing the merits of sabotaging the Ferris wheel to make the park visit more interesting when a commotion erupted behind her.
A young man with overly gelled hair, clutching a massive bouquet of wilting roses, shoved his way through the crowd. He dropped to one knee directly in her path.
“Muyue!” he cried out, his voice cracking with self-induced emotion. “From the moment I saw you, my heart has been yours! Your smile is like the sunrise! Your laughter like wind chimes! I can’t imagine a life without you! Please, make me the happiest man alive!”
He thrust the flowers toward Su Yao, his eyes brimming with tears.
The crowd of students gasped, pulling out phones to record the spectacle.
Su Yao stared down at him. Her expression was utterly blank. He was a stranger to her. The name he'd spoken was entirely unfamiliar.
The young man blinked. His fervent gaze focused properly on her face for the first time. The adoration in his eyes flickered, replaced by dawning horror. The streetlight above chose that moment to flicker, shifting the shadows on Su Yao’s features.
“You... you're not Muyue,” he stammered, his face turning a deep, mortified red. He scrambled to his feet, clutching the roses to his chest like a shield. “The light... your hair... I'm so sorry! Wrong person!”
The crowd’s “awws” turned into snickers and laughs.
Su Yao looked from his mortified face to the cheap flowers, then back to his face. Her lip curled in a faint sneer.
“Your discernment is as poor as your taste in florists,” she said, her voice cold enough to freeze the pathetic roses solid. “The object of your affections is standing over there, by the vending machine. She appears to be trying to become one with the concrete.”
She pointed to a girl with a similar hairstyle who was indeed staring resolutely at a soda machine.
Without another word, Su Yao stepped around the humiliated boy and continued on her way. The entire incident was dismissed from her mind before she'd taken ten steps. Mortal courtship rituals were even more absurd than she remembered.
At least the demon lord had offered celestial treasures. This one had only offered poorly maintained vegetation.
Su Yao’s path home took her through a quieter, more commercial part of the city. The lingering annoyance from the botched confession faded as her sharp eyes caught a familiar, slinking figure half a block ahead.
Jian Feng.
He moved without his usual arrogant swagger, keeping a quick pace, shoulders hunched. His eyes darted nervously behind him. He took a turn into a narrow alley between a closed bookstore and a pawnshop, a passage that led only to rear doors.
Too suspicious for a simple errand, Su Yao mused, her interest immediately piqued. And far too nervous for someone just heading to a library study session.
She melted into the shadows, her presence vanishing. Jian Feng was taking a detour into a part of the city known for its lack of cameras and its surplus of discreet, often illicit, businesses.
Jian Feng stopped at a plain, unmarked metal door behind the pawnshop. He knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times in a rapid sequence. A code?
The door opened a crack. A sliver of dim light spilled out. Su Yao’s enhanced hearing caught a low, guttural voice from inside.
“You're late.”
“My apologies. It was difficult to get away,” Jian Feng whispered, his voice strained. He slipped inside, and the door shut firmly behind him.
Su Yao stood in the alley. The faint, acrid smell of something metallic hung in the air. This was a secret meeting.
A cruel smile touched her lips. The star exorcist, the righteous face of the Luo family, was sneaking around to meet someone in a back alley. After the revelations about the orphanage and the puppeteer, this reeked of something significant.
What are you up to, little star? she thought. Are you a pawn, or are you playing a game of your own?