Upon reaching the mysteriously located hall, the angels are taken aback by its grandeur. The temple above had looked humble but what lies beneath it is obscene in its splendour. Priceless gems are embedded into the walls like afterthoughts, and vast marble arches stretch endlessly into the distance. Most unnerving of all, this deep recess of Hell is bathed in soft sunlight. The hall seems infinite, opening onto a vast blue lake that swallows the horizon.
And upon that water stands the Blue Lotus.
Her blue hanfu drifts as if alive, grazing the lake's surface like a butterfly too gentle to land. Deep blue hair, gathered into an intricate bun, frames her face and exposes her eyes.
Eyes filled with quiet, patient fury.
They stare into the distance, as though governing the lake's tides—or calculating the destruction to come. That anger, though unfocused, presses heavily upon the visitors. Beneath the weight of her unfathomable gaze, the angels collapse to their knees in reverence, while the enlightened monks greet her with closed palms.
"Fear not," Monk Hisao says softly, sensing their terror. "She is in a meditative trance."
The angels realize then that the goddess is not truly present. Her spirit is elsewhere, and the rage bleeding from her eyes is not meant for them. They wait in silence, unaware that another prince of Hell has shattered the heavenly laws.
But the Blue Lotus knows.
Her glowing eyes sharpen, her frown deepening. Still, she makes no sound. No divine outburst follows—only silently endurance.
At last, her turbulent emotions fracture the vision itself. The scene splinter, divine sight collapsing inward—
BOOM.
A violent tide explodes across the once-serene lake, as if a bomb has been detonated beneath its surface.
"Those rascals!"
Her true voice thunders across the hall, shattering stone and cracking walls in its wake. Lightning tears through the lake without restraint, forcing the angels to hastily erect protective charms.
Fortunately for everyone, the goddess remembered to hold back.
As the divine vision fades, she finally notices the group before her. A flicker of relief crosses her face before vanishing just as quickly.
The monks bow with palms pressed together.
"Namo Buddhaya."
She raises one hand in blessing, her gaze sweeping over them with cool scrutiny. "You have come to me for guidance."
Monk Shiraishi's fingers work his prayer beads. "O Goddess, we beg you to end this disaster. You alone can summon every demon. If you grace the mortal world, the rogue ones will come to you like moths to flame."
"Otherwise," he continues grimly, "they will corrupt the world beyond salvation."
"I cannot." the Blue Lotus replies flatly.
Angel Gin's heart drops to his stomach. "Divine mother, please do not forsake us in this critical time!"
"You are the only one who can stop this before…" His voice falters, dropping to a whisper. "Before they awaken."
His former arrogance evaporates, replaced by a visible tremor. "If they rise, they will not rest until the entire world is consumed."
They are beings Zhang Xiyu knows all too well.
After all, he has lived within their fables for centuries—cultivated beneath their shadows, in complete devotion to these devis. They existed long before his birth and would endure long after his death.
An immortal cycle repeats itself endlessly: beheading rakshasas, restoring peace, then vanishing once more. They bare their fangs and unfurl crimson tongues to strike terror into the wicked. Hair and skin as dark as night, slick with oil-lamp sheen, they dance to the rhythm of death itself.
They are as magnificent as they are fearsome.
But why are they here? The question surfaced while Zhang Xiyu refined his core. Why are they hidden beneath this realm?
Unable to let it go, he once posed the question to the Blue Lotus. In return, she asked,
"While living their meagre lives, what fear governs the karma of humans?"
"The afterlife." he answered without hesitation. "They fear falling into hell. They fear the rings of punishment that promise recompense for every deed."
"And who administers that punishment?"
"The Ten Kings and their rakshasas."
The goddess nodded. "Now, answer me this."
"If the mortals fear demons… what must demons fear?"
In that question lay the truth of their existence.
Heavenly laws bind the lives of humans—so why would they allow demons to roam unrestrained?
There must be something above them.
A power higher than hell.
That is what they are.
From hearing their numerous fables, one will learn that once the fire of their wrath ignites, it will not be extinguished until everything in its path is reduced to ash.
"It would be a catastrophe," Angel Chie adds hurriedly. "We intended to resolve this ourselves, but hunting millions of devils—"
"It will take too long! And facing an Immortal King on top of that? That battle alone could erase the planet!"
"Cease your chattering." the goddess snaps, massaging her temple. "You are giving me a headache."
Angel Chie awkwardly stands with a gaping mouth but immediately stops talking with her head lowered. The tempers of gods have always been eccentric and their strength is even more unfathomable. It is best for everyone to be obedient.
"I hate to repeat myself." the Blue Lotus says coldly.
"I cannot go to the mortal world."
She gestures to herself with a helpless shrug. "My form is still incomplete. I am short of three significant fragments."
"I am bound to this temple."
Monk Tsuneo's eyes widen with realisation. "Has he failed to retrieve them from the princes?"
The Blue Lotus scoffs. "That better be the case…"
Despair weighs upon everyone, their hopes being dashed in an instant. But before the panic spreads, she adds.
"Do not concern yourselves with the rogue demons." she says calmly. "My subject is handling them."
A collective sigh escaped the visitors. With her assurance, the death toll—at least—would remain manageable.
"I can observe the situation with my divine eyes." she continues. "He was also dealing with Enma's spawn until—"
Her eyes narrow.
"Another one breached the walls."
Angel Gin thinks that if he weren't immortal, this day alone would have taken three-fourth of his life span. Is today the day I get angered to death?
He casts a meaningful glance at his third companion, who immediately bolts toward the temple above. At this point, even Jin Niu cannot be fully trusted.
"Enma's third son has rushed to battle the first one. For now, the situation is delicately stabilized." the goddess says, withholding nothing.
"So that is not what troubles me…"
The goddess exhales slowly. "It is too late."
A chill coils through the angels.
"I can hear the tremors." she continues. "The Mahavidya, they are furious."
"No…" Angel Chie gasps, the sound barely escaping her throat before the word dies there.
"They are slowly awakening. I can feel their eyes on me."
The elders immediately break into Sanskrit chants, voices overlapping as they attempt to placate the devis. Their chorus—layered, desperate—seems to echo the goddess's resolve rather than oppose it.
"To quell their wrath, the Havan must begin at once."
"Their anger demands sacrifice and we must prepare them."
"O Divine Mother!" Angel Gin cries, panic fraying his voice. "Whose blood must be spilled to satiate their thirst? What innocent life must be taken?"
"Innocent?" She scoffs. "They are far from it…"
Angel Gin stares at her, incredulous. No matter how he turns it over in his mind, he cannot grasp her plan.
"Then… where are these sacrifices coming from?" he finally demands.
Too many had already died—far too many. A ritual meant to pacify tamasic devas would demand far more blood than the mortal world could afford.
This hell had been the root of countless catastrophes since Lord Enma's disappearance. And now, to prevent a greater calamity, they were to commit yet another?
It seemed hell would not rest until the heavens were dragged down to its level—until everything lay in ruin.
Sensing his turmoil, Monk Shoji steps forward. "Young angel, fear not. The ritual will not require innocent lives."
He turns toward the goddess, bowing slightly. "Her subject is already gathering the offerings."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Back in the mortal plane, Liu Xue steps out of the crackling rift behind him and is immediately met with hostility.
"…And why are you here?" Ren Jiang growls. Frustration creases his brow, his long-simmering disdain finally laid bare. For the first time, Liu Xue doesn't dislike his mug.
Liu Xue's expression was serene, as cold and depthless as a glacier lake. A thin, almost elegant rapier of translucent blue ice appeared in his hand, its point glinting with a deadly, concentrated chill. "To kill you, of course."
He doesn't wait for a reply. Liu Xue moves, a blur of silver and white. His rapier doesn't slash; it darts, a flicker of freezing light aimed not at Ren Jiang's heart, but at the grey, necrotizing wound on his arm from Zhang Xiyu's sword.
Ren Jiang barely parries with his sword, the clash sending a jarring shock of cold up his arm. Their swords meet with a sound like a shattering chandelier.
Liu Xue's assault is a relentless ballet of cold. Where he steps, the pounding rain flash-freezes into treacherous sheet-ice. He isn't trying to overpower Ren Jiang; he is constricting him.
Each precise stab of the rapier forces Ren Jiang to block or dodge, and with every movement, Ren Jiang's footing became more perilous, the air around him grew colder, slowing the flow of his water techniques.
Ren Jiang roars, summoning a whip of Yangtze water to lash out. Liu Xue doesn't decay it; he captures it. A flick of his wrist, and the whip froze solid in mid-air, from tip to source, a bridge of ice leading back to Ren Jiang's hand.
Ren Jiang shatters it with a burst of demonic energy, but the effort costs him. He is breathing heavily now, clouds of vapor forming in Liu Xue's manufactured winter.
Ren Jiang drives his blade into the ground to summon a geyser beneath Liu Xue's feet.
Unable to counter it on time, Liu Xue braces for the impact. But the attack never lands. Right beneath his feet, the water turns into tartar and plops back to the ground.
But Ren Jiang doesn't stop there. He swings his sword in a wide arc, and the rain around him doesn't just fall; it curves, forming a thousand spiralling, drill-like torrents that shoots simultaneously at both Liu Xue and the passive Zhang Xiyu.
Zhang Xiyu dissipates the blades into ghost-smoke, letting the drills pass through. Liu Xue crosses his arms, and a wall of layered, azure ice ten feet thick crystallizes before him. The water-drills bore into it, sending up plumes of frozen mist, but slowing, being captured, turned to ice themselves within the shield.
It was a magnificent, terrible stalemate. Ren Jiang, empowered by rage and lineage, was holding his own against two supreme specialists, his power evolving in real-time from simple floods to concepts of pressure, density, and violent motion.
That's when Zhang Xiyu hears a voice in his head.
Come to the mountain's base.
Zhang Xiyu freezes, his demonic energy, that coiled towards Ren Jiang, dissipates. He glances at the two brothers locked in their deadly dance, at the panting, cornered Ren Jiang and the relentless, frost-clad Liu Xue.
"I'll be back." Zhang Xiyu says aloud, sheathing his sword with finality. "Hold him back until then." He says to Liu Xue.
And he is gone. His figure flashes away without any explanation. The oppressive aura of decay lifts, leaving only the biting cold and the pounding rain.
Ren Jiang stares, confused by the reprieve. Liu Xue does not even glance his way; his icy gaze fixed solely on his brother.
The sudden absence of the third combatant leaves a vacuum of silence, broken only by the wind and the drip of melting ice. Ren Jiang and Liu Xue stand facing each other, the dynamic shifting instantly. It is no longer a desperate defence against two foes, but a pure, unmediated hatred.
Ren Jiang wipes a trickle of blood from his lip, his hellfire eyes blazing. "Just you and me now, little brother."
Liu Xue adjusts his grip on the glacial rapier, a single, perfect snowflake crystallizing on its tip. "Just you and me," he confirms, his voice colder than the heart of any mountain. "Till only one of us remains."
A banshee's scream of wind tears through the peaks as the duel of the two brothers resumes.
On the other side of the battlefield, Yutao watches a murder of crows blot out the sky. Demons dangle from their beaks like grisly ornaments before being spat onto a massive heap of unconscious bodies. The birds don't linger—they scatter immediately, already hunting their next destination.
Sensing a presence flash beside him, Yutao speaks without looking. "The sacrificial array is complete." He tilts his head upward, eyes tracking the titanic clash unfolding in the sky. "And Liu Xue is here."
Zhang Xiyu nods. "He will not last long. Once Ren Jiang grows accustomed to his father's cultivation, it is only a matter of time before Liu Xue dies."
"His only advantage." Yutao says, "is that his attribute counters Ren Jiang's."
"And his boundless hatred." Zhang Xiyu adds.
Yutao shrugs. "He'll manage. And if he dies, then that's that." Zhang Xiyu unexpectedly frowns at the prospect.
"What's wrong?" Yutao asks.
Zhang Xiyu shakes his head and looks away. "Why did you call me here?"
Yutao does not pursue the matter and holds up a pink leather wallet to show. "That guy will not have a chance to use this."
Inside were bundles of notes earned by Renhu in the mortal world by doing all sorts of odd jobs. His frugal lifestyle that demanded no unnecessary things like food and electricity racked up his wealth. Before he got the chance to even admire it, his real boss robs him off it.
"We can't let Renhu's hard-earned salary go to waste," Zhang Xiyu says easily, taking the girlish purse without batting an eye. Only Renhu laments being born into a household of leeches.
The sudden apocalypse triggered by rogue demons throws the world into red alert. Roads clog with vehicles carrying panicked citizens and dead bodies. Public transport grinds to a major halt and news anchors repeat the same hollow advice on loop: Remain where you are.
The shops and businesses that were open, became the hotspot for the demons to raid and the humans to hide. But not every place was affected. Across unaffected regions, people stare at their televisions, struggling to comprehend the nightmare unfolding elsewhere.
"This has to be zombie apocalypse!" Supermarket clerks in blue jackets gossiped behind the aisles, pretending to restock shelves.
"You fucking geek." his coworker scoffs. "Wake up from your fantasies and look properly. This is obviously some kind of plague or disease."
He rubs his chin. "Like rabies."
"My paternal uncle's daughter, Liling, died from rabies." the 'geek' snaps. "This is not rabies."
"You idiot, I'm not saying it is! I'm saying it's like—"
"Welcome!"
The cashier's cheerful voice slices clean through their argument. All of them freeze.
Who the hell would be shopping right now?
With what little stealth they could muster, they peek over the aisles.
And shock doesn't even begin to cover it.
"Oh my god," the female clerk mouths, eyes shining. She grabs her colleague's sleeve, grinning ear to ear. "Am I dead? Because it looks like the angels have come to escort me."
Her colleagues drag her back behind the aisle, hissing in unison.
"Stop being so embarrassing for one second!"
With rapid gestures, she promises to stay quiet and behave. Only after she nods several times do they cautiously return to peeking.
The two tall men move through the supermarket with shopping bags in hand, their pace leisurely, their posture unhurried. One methodically fills his cart with packets of instant ramen. The other selects ice cream with extreme seriousness, stacking flavours that have no business coexisting. They look less like survivors and more like customers taking advantage of a late-night sale while the world collapses outside.
"What characters are they cosplaying?" one clerk whispers, nudging his geeky coworker. "You read all kinds of manga. You should know."
"I do not," he replies quietly. "It is probably from some cultivation novel. I am not really into that genre."
"Their wigs must be incredibly expensive," the woman murmurs. "Just look at the shine."
No matter how low their voices fall, the men hear everything. They hear the whispering. They hear the thudding of terrified hearts. They hear the fragile, frantic life moving behind the shelves.
And to be perceived this way by mortals, it gives them a mixture of emotions. A little amusement and some more headache.
With a melon bread hanging from his mouth, Yutao expressionlessly pulls bills from the pink purse and hands them to the wooden-faced cashier. Before she could open her mouth and offer them to take shelter in this shop, the two of them gather their purchases and leave.
On their way back toward the Yangtze River, they stop at several other places.
At an arcade, they knock out the rampaging demoness and hand her over to the crows. In the dim hall littered with corpses, neon lights pulse while cheerful game music blares. They play a few rounds anyway. Competitive spirits flare, and the atmosphere grows noticeably less cordial than when they entered.
They visit a library. Watch half a movie. Buy more fast food. All the while, any demon unlucky enough to cross their path is efficiently removed.
When they decide they have had enough, they qinggong back to the Yangtze River, landing on the bank opposite Shuanggui Mountain. After erecting a protective barrier, they claim a bench and divide their spoils.
"How are you so certain that the woman will understand your intentions?" Yutao asks as he bites into a strawberry tanghulu.
Zhang Xiyu eats a fry before answering. "It is not certainty."
"Then what is it?"
"I believe that when she hears them turning in their sleep, she will rush to appease them." Zhang Xiyu says evenly. "If she does not, then I will head the Havan myself."
Yutao crunches through the hardened sugar shell. "She will kill us when we return."
Zhang Xiyu releases a humourless laugh. "She has used their power against me from the beginning. It is only appropriate that I return the favour once."
Yutao exhales sharply and turns his gaze toward the sky. Across the river, the brothers' battle rips through the air, violent and incandescent.
Then his tone shifts. "Why are you using Liu Xue as a blade to kill Ren Jiang?"
Zhang Xiyu remains still.
"Are you afraid," Yutao continues, "to bear the consequences of killing Enma's son?"
"Yes." Zhang Xiyu answers without hesitation. The honesty lands like a blow.
Disappointment tightens in Yutao's chest.
"Zhang Xiyu, even when you have nothing to lose, I didn't expect you to carry fear. Within that Tartarus, our thirst for revenge enlivened us. The thirst to gut them inside out with our bare hands. It kept us breathing."
His voice hardens. "And now you stand here with careful plans and clean hands. You refuse implication. Are you truly no different from the rest of them?"
Zhang Xiyu does not reply. His black eyes remain clear. There is no shame in them. There is no denial either.
Yutao laughs, sharp and bitter with anger. "You are no different after all."
Zhang Xiyu inhales slowly. "I—"
DONG
The sound does not travel through the air. It erupts inside his skull.
Temple bells ring endlessly, overlapping, crushing thought beneath resonance. Stone groans as a massive crack tears its way up Shuanggui Mountain, splitting earth from base to peak.
Looking at his ghastly expression, Yutao asks with a frown. "What's wrong?"
Zhang Xiyu's voice is hoarse. "We are running late."
His pale finger points at the widening fracture. "One eye has opened."
The air grows heavy. Ancient pressure bleeds into the world, old enough to predate fear itself.
"The devis are awakening."