The morning sun painted Chengdu's Chinatown in warm gold, but the air carried a sharp undercurrent of unease—thicker even than the scent of Sichuan peppercorns wafting from a nearby hot pot stall. Red lanterns swayed from shop awnings, their silk fabric brushing against signs for "Spicy Rabbit Head" and "Handmade Noodles," but the usual chatter of vendors and shoppers was muted. Everyone seemed to sense it: something was wrong.
Li Na met Ye, Rui, and Dao Feng outside a vacant tea shop—the SPU's temporary command center—her notebook clutched tight in her hand. Her short black hair was windswept, and there was a smudge of ink on her cheek, evidence of a long night spent poring over case files.
"Three victims so far," she said, handing over a stack of photos. The top one showed a cardboard box, its surface printed with a faded terracotta warrior. A blood-red cross was stamped on the lid, identical to the ones they'd seen in New York and the upper state bunker. "First was Zhang Wei, 35—owns that souvenir shop down the street." She pointed to a storefront with a "Closed" sign taped to the door. "His wife found the box on their counter yesterday morning. When he opened it… she heard him scream. By the time she ran in, he was gone. Only the terracotta warrior was left."
Rui flipped to the next photo: a small, ceramic terracotta warrior, its face chipped, its eyes hollow. But there was something off about it—something that made her skin prickle. "The eyes," she said, leaning in. "They look like they're moving."
Ye took the photo, his thumb brushing the warrior's face. "Earth Zombies," he said, his voice tight. "Not the Corpse Fiends we fought before—these are made from Qin Dynasty clay, infused with Yin energy. The warrior's a prison. Open the box, and the Yin energy latches onto you, pulling your soul into the statue. Then you turn—slowly, painfully—into a zombie."
Dao Feng nodded, his fingers tightening around the Xuanqing Whisk hanging at his waist. "Master told me about these. Decades ago, a group of zombies escaped Xuanqing's seal—Earth Zombies, same as these. They fled to Sichuan, and we thought we'd sealed them all. But Zhou Lin must have found their remains… used them to make these 'delivery packages.'"
Li Na led them to Zhang Wei's souvenir shop, its door locked with a padlock. She pulled out a key—borrowed from Zhang's wife—and unlocked it. The bell above the door jingled softly, and they stepped inside. The air smelled like dust and forgotten trinkets: rows of panda plushies lined shelves, bottles of chili oil sat in neat rows, and a glass case displayed tiny terracotta warriors—similar to the one in the photo, but smaller, less menacing.
Mrs. Zhang was sitting behind the counter, her eyes red and puffy. She stood when she saw them, her hands trembling. "You're here to find him?" she said, her voice breaking. "Wei Wei… he was just checking the package. It came in the mail—no return address. He laughed and said, 'Must be a gift from a customer.' Then he opened it, and… I heard him yell. Like he was being squeezed. I ran in, and the box was on the floor. The warrior's eyes—they were glowing red. And Wei Wei was gone."
She pointed to the counter, where a faint outline of the box was still visible. Rui knelt, her gloved hand brushing the wood. Instantly, a cold tingle ran up her arm—Yin energy, thick and cloying, like wet mud. She closed her eyes, focusing on the whispers: faint, guttural, full of fear. Trapped… clay… cold…
"He's in the warrior," she said, opening her eyes. "His soul's stuck there. The Yin energy is keeping him prisoner, turning his body into a zombie."
Ye pulled out his bronze mirror—the one they'd repaired in NYU's dorm—and held it up to the spot where the box had been. The mirror's surface rippled, and Zhang Wei's face appeared: his skin gray, his eyes blank, his mouth open in a silent scream.
"He's still alive," Ye said, his voice soft. "We can get him out. But first, we need to find where the packages are coming from."
Li Na pulled out a tracking number from her notebook. "All three packages were shipped from an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Chinatown—used to store textiles back in the 90s. My team tried to go in yesterday, but the door was blocked by something… heavy. And the Yin energy was so strong, our equipment shorted out."
Dao Feng stepped toward the door, the Xuanqing Whisk glowing faintly. "We go tonight. Earth Zombies hate sunlight—they'll be weaker after dark. And with the whisk, we can break their hold on the victims."
Rui nodded, tucking her rune chips into her blazer pocket. "I'll text Mike—ask him to send backup. Just in case Zhou Lin's there."
Mrs. Zhang walked over, pressing a small clay figurine into Rui's hand. It was a tiny Guan Yin, its surface smooth from years of being held. "For luck," she said, her eyes wet. "Please bring him back. I can't lose him."
Rui squeezed the figurine, tucking it next to her jade pendant. "We will. I promise."
They left the shop, the bell jingling behind them. The sun was higher now, but the unease in Chinatown hadn't faded. A group of elders stood on the corner, whispering, their faces grave. When they saw Ye's peachwood sword and Dao Feng's whisk, one of them—a woman with silver hair—stepped forward.
"You're here to stop the warrior spirits?" she asked, her voice low. "My grandson saw one last night—walking down the street, its eyes glowing. Said it looked like the man from the noodle shop."
Ye nodded. "We are. Tell your grandson to stay inside tonight. Lock his doors. We'll take care of it."
The woman bowed slightly. "Thank you. May Guan Yin protect you."
As they walked back to the tea shop, Rui thought about Mrs. Zhang's face, about Zhang Wei's silent scream in the mirror. These weren't just cases—they were people. Husbands, fathers, shop owners. And Zhou Lin was using them as pawns, just to get power.
"He's not going to get away with this," she said, her voice firm.
Ye took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers. "He won't. We're going to stop him. Together."
That night, they met Li Na and two SPU agents—Wang and Chen—at the warehouse. It was a large, gray building, its windows broken, its walls covered in graffiti. The door was padlocked, but Ye kicked it open easily, his boot slamming into the metal.
"Stay close," he whispered, pulling out his peachwood sword. "Earth Zombies are slow, but they're strong. Aim for the head— that's where the Yin energy is concentrated."
They stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. The air smelled like rot and clay, and the floor was littered with empty cardboard boxes—each printed with a terracotta warrior, each marked with a blood-red cross. In the center of the room, a table was covered in more boxes, all unopened. And in the corner, three figures stood: tall, their skin gray, their eyes glowing red. Zombies.
"Zhang Wei," Li Na whispered, pointing to the one in a blue jacket—the same jacket Mrs. Zhang had described.
The zombies roared, their arms swinging. Ye charged forward, his sword swinging. The blade cut through the first zombie's arm, and black blood oozed out, smoking when it hit the floor. "Rui! Free the souls! Use your medium energy!"
Rui closed her eyes, focusing on the whispers. They were louder now, clearer: Help… the warrior… break the clay… She held up her hands, blue light glowing from her palms. "Zhang Wei! Wang Li! Chen Hao! I'm here! Hold on!"
The light wrapped around the zombies, and their bodies froze. Inside each one, a faint glow appeared—their souls, fighting to break free. Ye swung his sword again, cutting the head off the first zombie. As it fell, a glowing figure floated up—Zhang Wei, his face relieved.
"Thank you," he said, his voice weak.
Rui smiled, guiding him toward the door. "Go. Your wife is waiting."
Dao Feng fought beside Ye, swinging the Xuanqing Whisk. A burst of silver light shot out, hitting the second zombie. Its body dissolved into clay, and Wang Li's soul floated free. "Hurry!" Dao Feng yelled. "More are coming!"
Sure enough, footsteps echoed from the back of the warehouse. Zhou Lin appeared, followed by two vampire remnants. "Fools!" he yelled. "You think you can stop me? The Earth Zombies will be my army! The zombie king will be mine!"
He lunged at Ye, a dagger in his hand. Ye dodged, swinging his sword. The blade cut Zhou Lin's chest, and he stumbled back. "It's over, Zhou Lin," Ye said. "Give up."
Zhou Lin laughed, blood trickling from his mouth. "Never. The warehouse is rigged to explode. In five minutes, this place will be dust. And you'll be trapped with the zombies."
He turned, running out the back door. The vampires lunged at Rui, but she threw a handful of rune chips. They exploded in a shower of blue light, and the vampires dissolved into smoke.
"Let's go!" Ye yelled. "We have to get out!"
They ran toward the front door, the zombies still frozen in Rui's light. As they burst outside, the warehouse exploded—flames shooting into the sky, debris flying. Li Na and the agents pulled them back, away from the heat.
"Zhang Wei? Wang Li? Chen Hao?" Li Na asked, her voice urgent.
Rui nodded, watching as three glowing figures floated toward the horizon. "They're free. They're going home."
Ye looked at the burning warehouse, his jaw tight. "Zhou Lin got away. But he won't be gone for long."
Dao Feng put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him. And when we do, we'll stop him for good."
As the fire department arrived, Rui looked at Ye. His face was smudged with ash, but his eyes were bright—determined. She took his hand, squeezing it.
"Together," she said.
He smiled, squeezing back. "Together."