Two days later, Dao Feng was released from the hospital, weak but recovering. He stayed at Lao Guo's funeral parlor, resting and regaling them with stories of his ten years in the Yin Nest—how he'd survived on rainwater and moss, how he'd hidden the whisk fragment from Feng Xinyu, how he'd never given up hope of seeing Ye again.
On the third day, Rui's phone rang at 6:00 a.m., jolting her awake. It was Mike, his voice urgent. "Rui, upper state. Abandoned bunker. Hikers found mummified bodies. Nails are black, cross carved into each forehead. Same as Chinatown."
Rui sat up, grabbing her phone. "Same cross? You sure?"
"Positive. Coroner says they were drained of blood, but no bite marks. Just… holes in their necks. Like something sharp punctured them." Mike paused. "Dao Feng's with you, right? Ye said he knows about this stuff."
Rui looked at her clock—6:05 a.m. She texted Ye: Upper state bunker. Mummified bodies. Blood cross. Need you and Dao Feng.
His reply came seconds later: Meet you at Lao Guo's in 30. Bring the whisk.
Rui threw on clothes, grabbed her bag, and drove to Lao Guo's. Ye and Dao Feng were already there, loading supplies into Ye's bike. Dao Feng looked better—color in his cheeks, strength in his step—but he still winced when he moved his arm.
"Ready?" Ye asked, tossing her a helmet.
"Ready," Rui said, putting it on. "What's going on? Another spirit?"
Dao Feng shook his head, climbing onto the back of Ye's bike. "Worse. Corpse Fiends. WWII soldiers, turned by Yin energy. They're strong, fast, and they feed on blood. The cross—Feng Xinyu's mark. She's controlling them."
Rui climbed onto her SUV, starting the engine. "Lead the way. I'll follow."
The upper state bunker was two hours north of the city, a concrete skeleton half-buried in weeds. Mike was waiting for them, holding a clipboard, two SPU agents beside him. He handed Rui a photo—five mummified bodies, their skin gray, their nails black, a blood cross carved into each forehead.
"Coroner's report says they died within the past week," Mike said. "All hikers. No ID yet." He nodded at the bunker. "Entrance is over there. We haven't gone in—too dangerous."
Ye slung his bag over his shoulder, the whisk at his side. "Corpse Fiends hate sunlight. They'll be in the deepest part of the bunker. We go in, find the blood pool—they need it to stay alive—and destroy it." He turned to Dao Feng. "You stay here. You're not strong enough to fight."
Dao Feng frowned. "I'm fine—"
"You're not," Ye said, cutting him off. "You spent ten years in the Yin Nest. Your body's still recovering. Stay with Mike. Keep an eye on the perimeter."
Dao Feng sighed, but nodded. "Be careful. Corpse Fiends are faster than they look."
Ye and Rui walked to the bunker entrance, their flashlights on. The door was hanging off its hinges, rusted and broken. They stepped inside, the air thick with the smell of rot and iron—blood.
The bunker was a maze of tunnels, concrete walls covered in graffiti. Ye led the way, his sword drawn, Rui beside him, her gun in one hand, a talisman in the other. The whispers started, faint but desperate. Help… the Fiend… blood…
They turned a corner, and the tunnel opened into a large chamber. The floor was covered in a thick, dark liquid—blood, old and congealed, forming a pool that stretched to the walls. In the center of the pool stood a Corpse Fiend—tall, covered in matted white fur, its nails like black claws, its face a mess of rotting flesh.
"Found it," Ye said, his voice tight.
The Corpse Fiend turned, its empty eyes locking on them. It roared, a sound like a wounded animal, and lunged at Ye. Ye dodged, swinging his sword. The blade cut the Fiend's arm, and black blood oozed out, smoking when it hit the ground.
"Rui! Find the lost spirits!" Ye yelled, parrying another attack. "They're here—trapped by the Fiend!"
Rui closed her eyes, focusing on the whispers. They cleared, forming three distinct voices: a teenager, a young man, a woman. In the corner… by the pipes…
She ran to the corner, where rusted pipes jutted from the wall. Three faint, glowing figures huddled there—two boys, one girl, their faces terrified. "I'm getting you out," she said, her hands glowing blue with medium energy. She reached out, and the light wrapped around the spirits like a blanket. "Hold on."
The Corpse Fiend turned, abandoning Ye to charge at Rui. Ye tackled her to the ground, the Fiend's claws scraping his back. Rui gasped, pushing Ye off. His hoodie was torn, blood seeping through the fabric.
"Are you hurt?" she said, her voice shaking.
Ye grinned, wincing. "Just a scratch. Nothing fatal." He pulled a small, glowing pill from his bag—four colors swirled inside: red, black, white, gold. "Four-Blood Exorcism Pill. Made it myself—rooster blood, black dog blood, glutinous rice, my blood. Burns Yin energy like gasoline."
He threw the pill at the Fiend. It exploded in a burst of light, and the Fiend screamed, dissolving into black smoke. Ye collapsed against the wall, his back bleeding heavily.
Rui ripped off her blazer, pressing it to his wound. "We need to get you to a hospital."
Ye shook his head. "No time. Look." He pointed to the blood pool. Something silver was floating in it—half-submerged, glinting in the flashlight's beam.
Rui leaned over, her breath catching. It was a whisk—silver, with thin, flexible bristles. Dao Feng's whisk, from the photo. But this was a fragment—no, wait. The whisk was whole, glowing faintly.
She reached in, carefully pulling it out. It was warm in her hand, humming with energy. "Dao Feng's whisk," she said, holding it up. "It's whole. He had the other fragment?"
Ye took the whisk, running his fingers over the bristles. "He must have. He hid it from Feng Xinyu. This whisk—if he was dead, it would've lost its energy. But it's still glowing. Faint, but it's there."
Rui's phone rang. It was Mike. "Rui, we got a problem. Dao Feng's gone. He said he had to 'finish what he started'—went into the bunker."
Ye's eyes widened. "No. He's not strong enough."
They ran out of the chamber, back through the tunnels. They found Dao Feng in the entrance, fighting another Corpse Fiend—smaller, but faster. He held the whisk in one hand, swinging it at the Fiend, but he was weak, stumbling.
"Dao Feng!" Ye yelled, running forward. He swung his sword, cutting the Fiend's head off. It dissolved into black smoke.
Dao Feng collapsed, the whisk clattering to the ground. Ye knelt beside him, checking his pulse. "He's alive. Just unconscious."
Rui called Mike, telling him to send an ambulance. They carried Dao Feng out of the bunker, the whisk in Ye's hand. The sun was rising, painting the sky pink.
"He's an idiot," Ye said, smiling. "But he's my idiot."
Rui nodded, squeezing his hand. "We'll take care of him. Together."
As they waited for the ambulance, Ye looked at the whisk, then at Rui. "Thank you. For having my back."
Rui smiled. "Always, partner."
Ye's grin returned. "Partner. I like that."
The ambulance arrived, and they loaded Dao Feng inside. Ye climbed in with him, and Rui followed. As they drove to the hospital, Rui held the whisk in her lap. It hummed faintly, like Dao Feng was trying to send a message. She looked at Ye, who was watching Dao Feng, and knew they'd face more dangers. More spirits, more Corpse Fiends, more debts.
But they'd face them together.
And that was all that mattered.