Even drunk, the Hostess’s authority slammed through the operations center like a physical force. People moved. The data slates in the operations center were just beginning to glow with maps and facility markers when a bubbly pop song sliced through the tense silence. Everyone’s eyes snapped to Su Yao.
She blinked slowly, patted her simple dark robe, and produced Xiao Ling’s cheap, brightly colored smartphone. The screen displayed a brightly smiling picture of her aunt.
Oh, this old thing, she thought, regarding the device. She swiped to answer and pressed the speaker button.
“A-Ling!” her aunt’s voice, warm and laced with worry, filled the high-tech room. “Where are you? You didn't come home last night. I was starting to fret.”
Director Hao and Zhang Wei exchanged a look of sheer, cold panic. The country’s most classified location was now broadcasting a conversation with a civilian.
Su Yao, however, simply leaned against the console. A lazy, drunken smile spread across her face. “Auntie, I am... at work on a business trip. It’s very sudden. And very important.” Her words were slow and slurred.
The line went silent for a moment. Her aunt’s voice was careful when it returned. “A-Ling, you sound... very happy. Have you been drinking?”
The entire operations center held its breath. This was the security breach.
Su Yao giggled. “Maybe a little. The clients are very generous.”
Another pause. Then, her aunt’s voice returned with a gentle, knowing curiosity. “Is... is Zhang Wei there with you?”
Su Yao’s eyes, hazy with starfall nectar and phoenix tears, drifted over to where Zhang Wei stood, ramrod straight. She grinned wider. “Mmhmm. He’s right here.”
“Oh!” Her aunt’s tone instantly brightened, all concern melting away. Of course, he’s there. That explains everything, Su Yao knew her aunt was thinking. “Well, that’s alright then! As long as you're together. You two... are you having fun?”
Zhang Wei looked as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole.
Su Yao let out a low, warm chuckle, a sound utterly devoid of her usual mockery. “So much fun, Auntie. We're... working very closely together.”
“That’s wonderful, dear! Don't worry about a thing here. You two focus on your... work.” The implication in her voice was hilariously clear and deeply misplaced. “Have a good time! Be safe! Love you!”
“Love you too, Auntie,” Su Yao mumbled, ending the call.
The phone clattered onto the console. Absolute silence filled the room, broken only by the wind whistling through the broken window.
Su Yao looked at the rows of stunned faces. Then, she threw back her head and laughed. It was a rich, genuine sound of amusement.
“See?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “That is a real threat. Your security is so tight, but one phone call from my aunt about my love life, and you all freeze like ghosts.”
She pushed herself upright, the shift in her demeanor immediate and stark. The brief moment of domestic warmth vanished, replaced by the focused predator.
“Now,” she said, her gaze locking onto the holographic map displaying Yamato strongholds. “Where were we? Ah, yes. Dismantling a god factory.” She pointed a slightly unsteady finger at the largest red marker. “We start there. And someone,” she added, glancing at the empty cup in Zhang Wei’s hand, “refill my drink. It’s going to be a long day.”
Her slightly unfocused gaze swept over the glowing holographic map, tracing the web of Yamato connections. She took another lazy sip from a freshly procured jar of Void-Refined Starfall Nectar.
Her finger stopped. She leaned closer, her nose almost touching the hologram. She blinked. Then she leaned back, a slow, dawning look of utter disbelief on her face.
She pointed a pulsing red marker on the map, then indicated her thumb toward the shattered window, gesturing vaguely to the southeast.
“This one,” she announced, her voice flat with incredulous slur. “This stronghold, the one labeled ‘Primary Recruitment & Acclimation Center.'” She looked from the map to Director Hao’s stern face, then to Zhang Wei’s tense one.
“It is located,” she announced, “at 1487 Harmony Boulevard.”
She paused, letting the address hang in the air. The silence was broken only by the distant city sounds.
Director Hao’s brow furrowed. “That is a commercial district. Mixed-use buildings. We've scanned it. The spiritual signature is masked, but it’s low-level.”
Su Yao slowly raised her free hand. She brought her palm to her forehead with a solid smack.
“You idiots,” she groaned, the words muffled by her hand. She lowered it, looking at them with a mixture of pity and outrage. “1487 Harmony Boulevard. That is the ‘Plum Blossom Springs’ day spa and tea house. It’s literally three blocks from here. We are practically neighbors.”
The operations center seemed to shrink. Agents looked at each other, a wave of horrified realization washing over them. The Yamato’s primary recruitment center was a stone’s throw from their front door. They had walked past it for years.
“They have been recruiting, brainwashing, and processing assets right under your noses,” Su Yao stated, her drunkenness making the statement even more devastating. “While you were busy running background checks on my grocery list, they were setting up a welcome center next to your favorite lunch spot.”
She shook her head, a low chuckle escaping her. “Unbelievable.”
Su Yao drained the rest of the nectar in her jar and tossed it over her shoulder. It shattered against the far wall.
“Well,” she said, pushing herself off the console and brushing nonexistent dust from her robes. “What are we waiting for? An engraved invitation?”
She started walking toward the door, snatching a small, ornamental fruit knife from a startled analyst’s desk as she passed.
“Consultant Xiao Ling!” Director Hao barked. “What is your intention?”
“I'm going to introduce myself to the new neighbors,” she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with cheerful menace. “It’s only polite. Also, I'm going to see what kind of tea they serve.”
She grabbed Zhang Wei’s arm, dragging him along. “Come on, tool. We're going to crash a party. And I'm still thirsty.”
Su Yao stumbled out of the sleek, anonymous government building, her arm hooked tightly through Zhang Wei's. The bright afternoon sun made her wince, but she leaned into him with a dramatic sigh, playing her part to the hilt.
“Ooh, the world is spinny, Zhang Wei! Hold me steady!” she slurred, loud enough for the people on the street to hear.
Zhang Wei, his face a mask of stoic professionalism, tried to support her without actually looking at her. He felt hyper-aware of every civilian glance, every soft chuckle from passersby.
An elderly woman selling flowers from a cart gave them a warm smile. “So sweet,” she cooed. “Looking after your girlfriend when she’s had a bit too much.”
A group of teenagers snickered. “Dude’s got his hands full!” one of them called out.
Su Yao heard it all. She giggled, a light, airy sound, and nuzzled her face against Zhang Wei’s shoulder. “They think you're sweet,” she whispered, a low, mocking purr only he could hear. “They think you're a good, patient boyfriend, tolerating his messy, drunk girl.”
She pinched his side, hard. If only they knew you're my designated leash-holder.
“Could you please try to walk in a straight line?” Zhang Wei muttered through gritted teeth, steering her around a lamppost she was veering toward.
“But where’s the fun in that?” she giggled loudly, then stumbled, pulling him off balance. A man in a business suit reached out to steady them.
“Easy there, miss. You okay, buddy?” the man asked Zhang Wei sympathetically.
“She’s fine,” Zhang Wei said, his voice tight. “Just... a lot of celebration.”
“See?” Su Yao announced to the street at large, waving her free arm. “He’s so good to me! We're celebrating... things! Business things!” She winked sloppily at the businessman, who gave Zhang Wei a supportive nod before moving on.
“This is a new layer of hell,” Zhang Wei breathed, his ears burning.
“Relax, tool. We're just a lovely young couple,” she said, her words slurring together. “Out for a stroll. Me, utterly sloshed on celestial vintages. You, my long-suffering, virginal anchor to reality.” She suddenly stopped, pointing at a storefront. “Ooh, a bubble tea place! I need it! For the contrast!”
“Xiao Ling, the Yamato stronghold is literally half a block away,” he hissed, pulling her along.
“All the more reason for a pre-battle beverage! It’s tactical!” She dug her heels in, putting on a petulant show. “Pleeease? For me? Your beloved?”
A young mother pushing a stroller smiled at them. “Aw, get her the tea. She’s adorable.”
Zhang Wei closed his eyes, praying for strength. He quickly bought her the sweetest, most colorful bubble tea on the menu, if only to get her moving again.
Sucking noisily on the tapioca pearls, Su Yao allowed herself to be led the final steps. She looked up at the tasteful sign that read “Plum Blossom Springs,” its windows frosted, its aura perfectly calm and mundane to any casual spiritual sense.
She finished the tea with a final, loud slurp and tossed the cup into a nearby bin.
“Okay,” she said, her voice suddenly losing its performative giggle, though the drunken haze remained in her eyes. “Playtime’s over.”
Su Yao straightened up, her posture shifting from a drunk’s slump to a predator’s loose readiness. She patted Zhang Wei’s cheek, her touch surprisingly steady. “Ready to go meet the neighbors, ‘sweetie'?”
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the spa’s elegant door open and strode inside. Zhang Wei hurried after her, the eyes of the sympathetic public no longer on them. The real work was about to begin.
The door to “Plum Blossom Springs” swung shut, cutting off the city noise. Inside, the spa was empty. Soft music played, but no staff were present, and the reception desk stood unattended. The lack of activity confirmed they had arrived too late, or that something had gone wrong.
“Hello?” Zhang Wei called out, his hand instinctively moving to the hidden weapon at his back. His voice echoed slightly in the expansive, quiet space. “We're here for a... consultation.”
Silence.
Su Yao, who had been leaning against him, pushed away and wandered over to the reception desk. She ran a finger through a thin layer of dust on its surface.
“Busy place,” she remarked, her slur less pronounced now, replaced by a cold clarity. She picked up a brochure for a “Deep Tissue Chakra Alignment” and flicked it away. “They cleared out recently. A few hours ago, at most.”
Zhang Wei’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, his face grim. “Satellite thermal and spiritual scans from ten minutes ago showed at least two dozen heat signatures and significant energy readings in this building.”
“And now, nothing,” Su Yao finished for him. She walked past the desk and pushed open a swinging door leading to the treatment rooms. “They knew we were coming.”
The hallway beyond was just as pristine and empty. Treatment rooms stood with their doors open, revealing massage tables covered in clean sheets, unused basins, and neatly folded towels.
It was Su Yao who found it. She stopped at the end of the hall, in front of a large, circular room that should have housed a steam bath.
Instead, the floor was a massive, intricate ritual circle, freshly carved into the concrete. It was inlaid with powdered bone and spiritual ore. The symbols were a harsh, angular mix of corrupted Japanese shiki and twisted Daoist arrays. At its center was a shallow, dark stain that smelled of old blood.
“The welcome mat,” Su Yao said, her voice flat. She kicked at the edge of the circle, scuffing the precise lines. “This is a transit point. A gate. They've been moving people, or things, in and out.”
She looked around the empty, silent space. Her drunken amusement finally gave way to a simmering, cold anger.
“They left after completing their work,” she said, turning to Zhang Wei. “The experiment’s packed and already moving to the next stage. This place served as the lobby.”
She gestured at the complex, now-dormant circle. “They were here, right under your noses, building a backdoor into reality itself. By the time you finally noticed, they were already gone.” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Your government’s ‘stability’ is a joke. It’s just the calm before someone else storm.”
Su Yao pulled out the ornamental fruit knife she'd pocketed. She drove it into the center of the ritual circle with a sharp crack, punctuating her sentence.
“Let’s go,” she said, turning on her heel. “The party’s moved. We need to find the new venue.” Her steps were steady and full of purpose; the drunken facade was completely gone. “And someone is going to tell me how they knew we were coming.”
The silence of the empty spa shattered as the air split open.
A rush of displaced wind ripped through the corridor. Suddenly, a figure stood between them and the exit. It was a woman, clad in form-fitting black garments with gold outlines that seemed to drink the light. Her face was obscured by a simple, featureless white mask. In her hand was a wakizashi short sword, its blade made from solidified shadow.
A void given an edge? That’s edgy.
She moved with impossible speed, a streak of darkness cutting the air.
Zhang Wei reacted on instinct. His own energy blade flashed into existence to parry. But her target wasn't him.
The shadowy blade passed by his guard with liquid grace. It moved past Su Yao’s throat and heart, rising instead in a single, precise, and effortlessly lethal motion.
A lock of Su Yao’s hair, previously artfully draped over her shoulder, drifted free.
It floated for a moment in the sandalwood-scented air, then settled silently on the pristine white floor.
Ten paces away, the masked woman waited, her void-blade lowered, utterly still. It was a statement as sharp as the edge itself. The woman could have taken her head as easily as the strand of hair. She had chosen not to.
Su Yao stood perfectly still. Her hand slowly rose, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair where it had been sheared. The cut was clean, perfect, and about four inches shorter than the rest.
A cascade of emotions warred on her face, a rare and genuine conflict.
First, sheer, unadulterated shock. For millennia, no one had touched me without my explicit permission. No one had even come close to her person.
Then, a flicker of analytical respect. The speed! The precision! To cut a single lock without nicking her skin, while she was alert... that was transcendent skill.
Finally, a volcanic, rising fury. It was her hair. It had been perfect. A symbol of my vanity, my pride, my eternal self. And this... this nobody... had defiled it.
Her eyes snapped from the fallen lock of hair to the masked woman. The air in the room grew thick and heavy. The ambient music cut out with a pathetic squeal from a blown speaker.
“You...” Su Yao’s voice was a low, dangerous tremor. “You cut my hair.”
She took a step forward, her power beginning to coil around her like a waking dragon.
“I don't know whether to be impressed,” she hissed, “or to peel the skin from your bones in strips so fine they could be used as thread.”
The masked woman remained silent, her posture unchanged. A statue of lethal intent.
Su Yao’s lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl that was both a smile and a promise of violence.
“Let’s find out.”
“Zhang Wei,” Su Yao’s voice was a low, multi-layered growl that vibrated through the very foundation of the building. “Don’t interfere. This is my fight.”
Around her, the air began to warp and shimmer with heat. The serene spa’s lighting flickered and died, plunging them into a gloom lit only by the angry, burgeoning aura erupting from her core.
Where the woman in the dark robe had stood now loomed a magnificent, terrifying vision. Su Yao’s skin took on a moon-pale luminescence. Her eyes blazed with the light of twin hells. From her back, nine magnificent, flowing tails fanned out, each one a conduit of immense, ancient power.
Coalescing from demonic energy and divine might, a unique weapon materialized in the grasp of each tail:
One tail held a Vortex Spear, its tip a swirling singularity that devoured light.
Another wielded a Bell of Silent Screams, which pulsed with agonizing soundwaves only the soul could hear.
A third brandished a Fan of Ten Thousand Sorrows, whose mere breeze could age a mortal to dust.
There were whips of lightning, blades of frozen time, a mirror that reflected flaws, and more. It was an arsenal of devastation born from the heart of a celestial fox.
The masked woman took a single step back, her void-blade held defensively. For the first time, a flicker of something other than cold efficiency showed in her posture: awe, and a dawning recognition.
“That form...” the woman’s voice was distorted, electronic, but the shock in it was clear. “It bears a striking resemblance to the legends of the Golden White Face...”
Su Yao, now a nine-tailed pillar of incandescent rage, let out a roar that shattered the remaining windows. “I don't know who that is and I don't care! You cut my hair!”
One of her tails, the one holding the Vortex Spear, lashed out. The attack was an unraveling of reality itself. A spear-thrust that warped space to reach its target instantly.
The masked woman was impossibly fast. Her void-blade met the spearhead in a cataclysm of shrieking forces. Shadows and light warred, but she was hurled backward through three walls, concrete and plaster exploding outwards.
Su Yao moved before the dust could settle. She stood at the edge of the crater, already there, watching. Another tail, the one with the Bell of Silent Screams, shook violently. The masked woman’s form convulsed on the ground, her white mask cracking as she screamed in silent agony.
“Who do you work for?!” Su Yao bellowed, her voice the sound of a collapsing mountain.
The woman staggered to her feet, her movements slower, damaged. She looked up at the nine-tailed sovereign of fury, a being of myth made devastatingly real.
“It doesn't matter,” the masked woman gasped, her electronic voice glitching. “The process is already in motion. The Candidate is chosen. You are too late.”
This only infuriated Su Yao more. “I'll decide what’s too late!”
All nine tails reared back. Their demonic divine weapons glowed with apocalyptic power, ready to unleash a simultaneous, world-ending strike upon a single, masked target. The building around them began to disintegrate, unable to contain the sheer pressure of her unleashed wrath.