The assistant's obsidian eyes tracked them as the pistol steadied. *"Mr. Ma dislikes waiting."*
Black tendrils of corrupted energy writhed beneath her skin—no living human had qi pathways like that. Chu Yang's fingers brushed Su Yuyan's wrist in silent warning.
*"We're coming."* Su Yuyan stood slowly, frost gathering on her fingertips.
Chu Yang "tripped"—sending the assistant reaching forward just as Su Yuyan's palm struck. Ice encased the gun hand—
*CRACK!*
They were already sprinting down the stairwell when the frozen limb shattered free.
*"Earth-Skip Talisman?"* Chu Yang gasped, clutching Old Zhou's gift.
*"Useless! Ma's wards block spatial jumps!"* Su Yuyan vaulted over a landing. *"Twenty-fifth floor—skybridge to adjacent tower!"*
From above, the assistant's voice warped unnaturally: *"The rite requires Tai Xu blood!"*
---
The emergency corridor stretched like a glass caterpillar between skyscrapers. They'd barely reached midpoint when the entire structure shuddered—the assistant had torn the bridge from its moorings!
Falling. Wind screaming. Glass shards glittering like malignant stars.
Chu Yang's dantian *detonated*—the ice-core unleashing a protective sphere that cushioned their crash into the neighboring building.
*"How did they know about needing your blood?"* He spat out debris.
*"Ma's scar—"* Su Yuyan wiped blood from her lip, *"—it's never been a wound. It's a *brand*. He's been tainted by the Outer Ones for decades!"*
---
The safehouse was an unremarkable courtyard with a single ancient locust tree—its spiritual glow belying the ramshackle appearance.
*"My childhood hideaway."* Su Yuyan unearthed a key from beneath a tile. *"Even my clan doesn't know of this place."*
A whispered phrase activated cleansing arrays. Dust vanished; warding sigils flared to life along the walls.
*"One week's sanctuary."* She collapsed onto a hardwood chair.
Chu Yang noted the vintage radio—identical to Old Zhou's. *"Your father brought you here often?"*
*"He believed cultivators shouldn't sever all mortal ties."* Her fingers traced a notebook filled with childish observations. One page showed a sketched girl labeled *"Lin Wan'er, age 7, suspected innate spiritual body."*
*"You stalked children?"*
*"Academic observation!"* Pink tinged her ears as she snatched the book away. *"Now focus—we have six days before they find us."*
She dumped an armload of ancient texts before him: *"Cultivation Theory," "Sigil Foundations," "Spiritual Botany."*
*"Memorize these."*
*"That's impossible!"*
*"The Slip chose you for a reason."* Her gaze burned. *"If Ma serves the Outer Ones, then Darkmoon doesn't just want the Key—they're trying to *pry open* the Seal!"*
---
Dawn found Chu Yang coding at the courtyard table, translating meridian pathways into algorithmic models. Su Yuyan watched skepticism morph into astonishment as his program spat out optimized cultivation routes.
*"Try this."* He handed her a revised sequence. *"Thirty percent efficiency boost theoretically."*
Her trial run ended with a gasp. *"You inverted the Yang Qiao-Yin Wei flow! This defies two thousand years of—"*
*"Data doesn't lie."* He rotated the 3D meridian projection. *"Traditional paths cause turbulent energy loss here. My version's longer but smoother."*
That night, their sparring incorporated his "spell functions"—pre-programmed qi constructs triggered by verbal commands.
*"Fireball v1.3!"* Blue flames spiraled in his palm.
*"Frost Arrows!"* Her projectiles split midair, homing from multiple angles.
Chu Yang's *"Shield Protocol"* blocked most—except the seventh arrow that always feinted. His backhand catch made her jaw drop.
*"You... coded my attack patterns?"*
*"Machine learning basics."* He grinned at her stunned expression. *"But real opponents won't be so predictable."*
Her laughter under the moonlight was a rare gift. *"You're insane... but maybe cultivation needs insanity."*
---
Day five's meditation beneath the locust tree triggered something profound—their qi resonating without touch, cycling effortlessly between them. When the trance broke, Su Yuyan fled with flushed cheeks.
*"That level of synchronization only happens between..."* Her voice trailed off.
*"Between what?"*
*"Nothing! Breakfast!"*
The newspaper she brought that evening bore grim news: *"Sixth Ritual Murder."*
The new death completed a hexagram on Chu Yang's map—far more ominous than the original pentagram.
*"They're not just seeking the Key anymore."* Su Yuyan's knuckles whitened. *"That's a direct summoning array for the Outer Ones' avatars!"*
From the wooden chest, she produced tactical gear and a burner phone. The call was brief: *"Nangong? It's me. We need your help."*
As Chu Yang donned the fitted blacksuit, she adjusted his collar—their proximity sending his pulse racing. Her scent was osmanthus and winter frost.
*"About that resonance..."* he ventured.
Her fingers stilled. *"...It requires either shared blood... or soul-deep bonds."*
Before he could respond, she vanished into the night with a final warning:
*"Rest well. Tomorrow we hunt."*
Beyond the window, the bloody moon watched.