The hilltop temple stood silent beneath the midday sun, its red walls faded and its stone steps cracked with age.
For generations, locals had come here to pray for safe voyages and good harvests—but today, not a single pilgrim could be seen.
The heavy iron gates were chained shut, and thick black cloth hung over every window, blocking out the light.
Zhang Jiuxuan stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the roof ridges where twisted shadow shapes coiled like smoke.
“The whole mountain is wrapped in a curse,” he said.
“They’ve turned a place of blessing into a vessel for darkness.” Lin Weiyao stood well back, clutching his arms against a sudden chill.
“I haven’t been here since I was a boy.
The old abbot… he was a good man.
What did they do to him?” “Nothing good,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
He kicked the gate lock with one flip-flop, and the rusted metal snapped clean in two.
“Wait here.
If the ground shakes, lie flat and cover your head.” He pushed open the gates and stepped inside.
The courtyard was littered with overturned incense burners and snapped joss sticks.
In the center, a circle of black candles burned with flame that gave no warmth.
On the main altar, where a golden statue of the sea goddess had once stood, there was now a rough stone pedestal.
Resting on it was a jagged shard of dark metal, carved with patterns no human hand should have ever touched.
Standing beside it was a tall man in a black robe stitched with silver crosses, his face pale and sharp, his eyes glowing with faint violet light.
“So the last Celestial Master finally shows up,” the man said, his voice echoing as if spoken from deep underwater.
“I am High Priest Valerius of the Black Cross.
And that shard you feel?
It is part of the key to the deep gates.” Zhang Jiuxuan stopped a few paces away, glancing at the shard.
The air around it hummed with a hunger that made even the stone floor tremble.
“Key to what?” he asked.
“To the world beyond,” Valerius said, spreading his arms.
“For too long, your people have hoarded the dragon’s breath for yourselves.
We will open every gate, let the old powers flow free, and let the weak burn away.” He raised a hand, and the black candles flared.
Ghostly figures in tattered Ming-dynasty armor rose from the courtyard earth, their swords dripping with shadow fire.
“These are the souls of sailors your ancestors abandoned,” Valerius said.
“They have waited centuries for revenge.” Zhang Jiuxuan looked at the restless spirits, then shook his head.
“They didn’t wait for revenge,” he said softly.
“They waited for someone to finally set them free.” He lifted a finger and traced a slow arc through the air.
A gentle chime rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the dark hum of the curse.
The ghostly soldiers froze.
Their shadow fire dimmed.
One by one, they lowered their weapons, and looks of peace spread across their translucent faces.
“Go,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“Your duty is done.
Rest now.” The spirits bowed to him, then dissolved into golden light that drifted upward and vanished into the blue sky.
Valerius snarled, slamming his staff against the pedestal.
“You dare steal my servants?” “Servants don’t belong to you,” Zhang Jiuxuan said, stepping forward.
“Prisoners do.
And I break chains for a living.” Valerius ripped a dagger from his belt and drove it into his own palm.
Dark blood sprayed onto the metal shard.
The whole temple groaned.
The stone pedestal cracked open, and a wave of suffocating cold rushed outward, carrying the roar of a thousand drowning voices.
“Then break this!” Valerius roared.
Zhang Jiuxuan didn’t flinch.
He pulled his brass compass from his pocket and set it spinning.
The needle blazed gold, and a pillar of light shot straight up through the temple roof, piercing the clouds.
“Tianyin Seal—bind the void!” he shouted.
Golden chains burst from the light, wrapping around the shard, the pedestal, and Valerius himself.
The cold wave shattered like glass.
Valerius screamed as the curse power was torn from his body, his violet eyes dimming to plain grey.
The shard gave one last faint hum, then went still, its dark glow fading completely.
Zhang Jiuxuan caught it as it fell, tucking it safely into his robe.
He looked down at the gasping high priest.
“You hold a fragment of something ancient,” he said.
“But you never understood what it was.
This doesn’t open gates—it seals them.
And you almost broke the lock.” Valerius stared up, trembling.
“The… the others will come.
They will send the sea god’s true wrath.
You cannot stop the tide forever.” Zhang Jiuxuan looked out over the temple walls, toward the open sea beyond Penang’s coast.
“I don’t have to stop the tide,” he said quietly.
“I just have to make sure it flows the right way.” He turned and walked back toward the gate, leaving the broken high priest where he lay.
Outside, Lin Weiyao rushed forward, his eyes wide with awe.
“The curse… it’s gone.
The air feels warm again.” “For now,” Zhang Jiuxuan said, holding up the wrapped shard.
“But this is only one piece.
If they have the rest, they’ll try again somewhere else.
And next time, they won’t pick a quiet island first.”