The sorcerer roared and flung both hands forward.
Dozens of wriggling black leeches, swollen and oozing dark fluid, shot through the air straight at Zhang Jiuxuan’s face.
“Nanyang blood curse!” he shrieked.
“One touch and your veins will rot from the inside out!” Zhang Jiuxuan didn’t dodge.
He simply exhaled a thin wisp of golden breath, and every leech burst into fine black ash before it could get within arm’s reach.
“Cheap tricks,” Zhang Jiuxuan said, his tone flat.
“You feed on pain and fear, but you have no real root.
The heavens don’t recognize your spells.” The sorcerer’s face twisted with rage.
He slapped his medallion, and the floor tiles cracked open.
Thick, tar-like sludge bubbled up, forming into jagged claws that lunged for Lin Weiyao.
“Then I’ll take his life first!” the sorcerer snarled.
Lin Weiyao stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.
The claws were seconds from closing around his throat—until Zhang Jiuxuan flicked a single finger.
A tiny stone bead pulled from his pocket shot across the room.
It hit the center of the sludge claw, and the whole mass shuddered before hardening into dry dirt and crumbling away.
“Bad timing,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“I haven’t finished asking him questions yet.” He stepped past the table, walking slowly toward the sorcerer.
The air around him grew bright, as if sunlight was pouring through the walls.
The sorcerer flinched, his hood slipping back to reveal eyes clouded with milky white venom.
“Who else is with the Black Cross here?” Zhang Jiuxuan asked.
“How many formations have you laid across Penang?” The sorcerer spat black saliva.
“You think you can threaten me?
The order has eyes everywhere!
The sea, the hills, the graves—all belong to us now!
Your little talismans won’t stop what’s coming!” He bit down hard on his own tongue.
Blood sprayed onto the floor, and a low, guttural chant echoed from his throat.
The windows shattered inward, and the shadow of a massive serpent coiled across the wall, its jaws opening wide to swallow the whole room.
“Blood offering complete!” the sorcerer screamed.
“Awaken the earth curse!” Zhang Jiuxuan stopped walking.
He looked at the shadow, then at the sorcerer, and shook his head.
“Wrong god,” he said quietly.
He lifted his right hand, pressing two fingers together like a seal.
A roar of thunder boomed right inside the office, though the sky outside was clear and blue.
“Divine fire of the heavens—purify all filth!” Flames of pure gold erupted from the floor, wrapping around the shadow serpent in an instant.
It shrieked and thrashed, but the fire did not burn wood or stone—it burned only evil.
The shadow dissolved layer by layer, until nothing remained but wispy smoke.
The sorcerer collapsed to his knees, his robe smoldering, the twisted cross medallion melting around his neck.
His skin blistered and peeled, revealing blackened bone beneath.
“What… what is this fire?” he gasped, his voice fading.
“No mortal can command this…” “Samadhi True Fire,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“It burns form, it burns spirit, it burns every trace of corruption you’ve planted.
Tell me everything, or it burns you forever.” The sorcerer trembled, tears mixing with black blood.
“I… I only run the Penang site!
There are others—one in the old mines north of the island, another at the hill temple!
They plan to open the main gate at the next full moon!
That’s all I know, I swear!” Zhang Jiuxuan nodded.
He waved a hand, and the fire died down, leaving the sorcerer unharmed—for now.
“Good,” he said.
“You’ll lead me there.
And if you lie once, I’ll leave you to burn in the fire without end.” He turned to Lin Weiyao, who stood frozen, leaning against the wall for support.
“Call your security team,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“Have them secure every pile location on this site.
No one leaves until I’ve checked every inch of ground.
And tell your people—if they see anyone wearing that twisted cross symbol, they don’t stop them.
They run straight to me.” Lin Weiyao nodded frantically and reached for his phone.
As he dialed, he glanced at the sorcerer, then at Zhang Jiuxuan, and finally let out a long, shaky breath.
“I thought… I thought sorcery was just old stories,” he said quietly.
Zhang Jiuxuan looked out the broken window, toward the distant hills where dark clouds were beginning to gather again.
“Stories,” he said, “are just truths people are too scared to say out loud.
The Black Cross didn’t just come for land.
They came for the soul of this place.
And I’m not letting them take it.”