The morning light filtered through the Chengdu hotel window, gilding the edges of the Xuanqing Whisk—now wrapped in red silk, resting on the nightstand. Rui was folding her blazer, preparing to head back to New York, when her phone buzzed. The caller ID read "Mike," and his voice, when it came through, was sharp with urgency.
"Rui, it's bad—real bad. Vampire remnants hit Lao Guo's funeral parlor last night. Broke in through the back wall, used some kind of acid to melt the lock on the display case. Stole the Xuanqing Whisk. Left a note: 'Meet us at the abandoned church on Bronx Avenue. 8 PM sharp. No cops, no backup. Just you and Ye. Bring nothing but yourselves, or the whisk gets fed to the Yin fire.'"
Ye, who was packing his peachwood sword into a canvas sheath, froze. His fingers tightened around the hilt, the wood creaking under his grip. "The whisk isn't just a relic—it's a key. It controls Yin energy, can seal or unlock spirits. If they use it on the zombie king's remaining energy… they could raise an army of undead."
Dao Feng, sitting on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his hair. "This is my fault. I should've taken the whisk back to Xuanqing the second we got to New York. I let my guard down."
Rui shook her head, grabbing her bag. "It's not your fault. They planned this—waited until we were halfway across the country to strike. We need to get back to New York. Now."
They booked the next flight to JFK, a red-eye that left in an hour. The plane cabin was dim, most passengers asleep, but none of them could rest. Ye spread a map of New York across his lap, tracing the route to the Bronx church with his finger. "The church was built in the 1800s, abandoned in the 90s. Locals say it's haunted by a priest who was killed there—perfect cover for vampires."
Dao Feng leaned over, pointing to a small X on the map. "There's a back entrance, hidden behind a row of maple trees. We can sneak in through there, surprise them before they realize we're not alone."
Rui pulled out her notebook, flipping to a page filled with rune sketches. She traced the Algiz rune—her grandmother's favorite, for ancestor protection—with her finger. "I'll carve extra runes on the way. Oak chips, soaked in holy water. They'll burn the vampires on contact."
The flight landed at 7:15 PM, the New York sky already dark. Mike was waiting for them at the airport, his SUV idling by the curb. He handed Ye a folder, his face grim. "My team's got the church surrounded, but we're staying back—per their demands. The note was written in blood, Rui. Human blood. We tested it—matches Mrs. Wong, the dim sum shop owner. She's their hostage."
Lao Guo was waiting for them at the church's perimeter, his blue apron still smudged with incense ash. His hands trembled as he handed Ye a small vial of cinnabar. "I mixed this with rooster blood—stronger than usual. For the talismans. I'm so sorry, Shaoyang. I heard them break in, but when I ran out… they had a gun to Mrs. Wong's head. I couldn't stop them."
Ye clapped him on the shoulder, his voice steady. "You did what you had to. We'll get the whisk back. And we'll get Mrs. Wong out safe."
They approached the church at 7:50 PM, the night air cold enough to make their breath fog. The building loomed ahead—its steeple leaning, stained-glass windows shattered, ivy crawling up the brick walls like black veins. A single candle flickered in the front window, casting a wavering light.
"The back entrance," Dao Feng whispered, leading them around the side. The maple trees rustled in the wind, their leaves crunching underfoot. He pried open a loose board in the wall, revealing a narrow passage. "Go—quick. I'll keep watch here. If I see cops or more vampires, I'll whistle."
Ye and Rui slipped through the passage, their flashlights off to avoid detection. The church interior reeked of mildew and iron—blood. Moonlight streamed through the broken windows, painting the pews in silver streaks. At the altar, five vampire remnants stood, their cloaks pooling on the floor. Mrs. Wong was tied to a wooden chair beside them, her mouth gagged, her eyes wide with fear. On the altar, the Xuanqing Whisk glowed faintly, its silver bristles dimmed as if drained of energy.
"Right on time," the lead vampire said—a woman with high cheekbones, her hair black as tar, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. She stepped forward, her red eyes locking on Ye. "Give us one good reason we shouldn't kill the old woman right now."
Ye's hand drifted to his sword, but Rui placed a hand on his arm—quiet, calm. She stepped forward, her voice steady. "Because you want the whisk to work. You don't know how to wield it—not really. It needs a Taoist's energy to control it. Ye can show you. But only if Mrs. Wong goes free."
The vampire laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "Clever. But we don't need your lessons. We just need the whisk to channel the zombie king's energy. Once we have that… New York will be ours."
She nodded to the other vampires, who grabbed Mrs. Wong's chair, dragging her toward the altar. Ye moved fast—faster than Rui had ever seen him—drawing his sword and slicing through the air. The blade cut the rope binding Mrs. Wong's wrists, and she scrambled toward the back of the church.
"Run!" Ye yelled.
The vampires lunged, their claws extended. Rui threw a handful of oak rune chips—soaked in holy water—hitting one vampire in the chest. It screamed, its skin smoking, and dissolved into black smoke. Ye parried another's attack, his sword clashing with the vampire's claws, sparks flying.
"Get the whisk!" Rui yelled, dodging a swipe from a third vampire. She pulled out her grandmother's cross, holding it high. The wood glowed faintly, and the vampire hissed, stepping back.
Ye sprinted to the altar, grabbing the whisk. The lead vampire roared, tackling him to the ground. The whisk slipped from his hand, skittering across the floor. Rui dove for it, her fingers closing around the silk-wrapped handle. She swung it, the silver bristles glowing bright, and a burst of light shot out—hitting the vampire square in the back.
The vampire screamed, dissolving into smoke. The remaining two fled through the front door, but Mike's team was waiting, tackling them to the ground.
Mrs. Wong, now safe with a paramedic, waved at them, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you," she mouthed.
Ye stood, brushing dust from his hoodie. He took the whisk from Rui, unwrapping the silk to check for damage. The bristles still glowed, faint but steady. "It's okay," he said, relieved. "No permanent damage."
Lao Guo ran in, holding a pot of hot soup. "I brought this—for Mrs. Wong. And for you two. You look like you need it."
As they stood in the church, the sound of police sirens fading in the distance, Dao Feng cleared his throat. "Master Qingyunzi sent a message this morning. He says the whisk belongs on Xuanqing Mountain. It's part of the zombie king's seal—keeps his energy contained. If we leave it in New York… it'll keep being a target."
Ye nodded, his gaze falling on Rui. "I need to take it back. Master says the seal is weakening. I'll be gone a month—maybe two. But I'll come back. I promise."
Rui's throat felt tight, but she forced a smile. "I'll handle New York's cases. Keep the SPU in line. And I'll wait for you."
He stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. "I'll call you every night. And I'll bring you back something—maybe more wild honey from the mountain."
She laughed, pressing her face to his chest. "Don't forget the honey."
The next morning, Ye left for Xuanqing Mountain. He handed Rui a small talisman before he went—carved with a Tai Chi symbol, the wood warm from his pocket. "Protection," he said. "Keep it with you. It'll warn you if Yin energy is near."
Rui slipped it into her blazer pocket, watching his car drive away. The street was quiet, the only sound from a nearby coffee shop. She touched the talisman, then the whisk-shaped indent in her bag—where the Xuanqing Whisk had rested just hours before.
This wasn't goodbye, she told herself. It was just "see you soon."