The plane touched down in Chengdu at 10 a.m., the air thick with humidity and the scent of Sichuan peppercorns. Li Na, the local SPU agent, was waiting for them at the gate, her short black hair tied back in a ponytail, a folder clutched in her hand.
"The remnants are holed up in Black Tiger Tomb," she said, leading them to her SUV. "My team has the area surrounded, but we haven't gone in—they've got the tomb rigged with traps. Poison darts, collapsing floors, Yin fire that burns on contact with living flesh."
The drive to the tomb wound through green hills, the road lined with bamboo and wildflowers. Qingyunzi sat in the front passenger seat, his eyes closed, murmuring a Taoist chant under his breath. Ye and Rui sat in the back, their hands laced together, while Dao Feng flipped through a tattered copy of Xuanqing's Guide to Sealing Spirits.
"The tomb was built during the Ming Dynasty," Dao Feng said, pointing to a sketch in the book. "It was originally a burial site for a general who fought off bandits. But when the zombie king was sealed there, it became a prison. The walls are lined with spells—old ones, strong ones. But if the remnants have the zombie king's energy… they could break them."
They arrived at the tomb an hour later. It was hidden in a dense forest, its stone entrance half-buried in vines, carvings of tigers and warriors weathered by time. Qingyunzi stepped forward, placing his hand on the stone. His eyes opened, sharp with focus.
"The Yin energy is thick," he said. "Thicker than I've ever felt. The remnants have already started the ritual—we don't have much time."
Ye pulled out his peachwood sword, and Dao Feng gripped the Xuanqing Whisk. Rui tucked a handful of rune chips into her blazer pocket, her hand resting on the cross around her neck. "Let's go," she said.
They pushed open the tomb door, which creaked on its hinges. The interior was dark, the only light coming from the flashlights they'd brought. The first chamber was narrow, its walls covered in murals—scenes of the general's battles, of monks sealing a shadowy figure (the zombie king).
"Stay close," Qingyunzi whispered. "The traps are triggered by movement. Step only where I step."
He led them through the chamber, his boots tapping lightly on the stone floor. When they reached the end, a narrow passage opened into a large, circular chamber. In the center, a circle of vampire remnants stood, their hands raised. Above them, a black cloud swirled—thick, roiling, pulsing with Yin energy. It was the zombie king's essence, twisted and corrupted by the remnants' magic.
"There they are," Ye said, his sword raised.
The remnants turned, their red eyes glowing. Their leader—a tall man with a scar across his cheek—laughed. "You're too late. The new zombie king will be born in ten minutes. And you'll be the first to die."
Qingyunzi raised his hands, chanting in ancient Chinese. A burst of golden light exploded from his palms, pushing the black cloud back. "Now! Use the combined spell!"
Ye and Rui stepped back to back. Ye drew a Binding Talisman from his bag, holding it aloft. Rui closed her eyes, focusing on her medium energy—blue, bright, pure—and sent it surging toward the talisman. The paper glowed, merging the gold of Ye's Taoism with the blue of her medium powers.
"Go!" Ye yelled, throwing the talisman at the black cloud.
It hit the center of the swirl, and a burst of light erupted—so bright Rui had to shield her eyes. The vampire remnants screamed, their bodies dissolving into black smoke as the light touched them. The black cloud twisted, shrinking, until it vanished entirely, leaving only a faint wisp of Yin energy that faded into the air.
The chamber went quiet. The only sound was their ragged breathing.
"It's over," Dao Feng said, his voice relieved.
They walked out of the tomb, the sun shining brightly overhead. Li Na and her team rushed over, their faces filled with relief. "You did it," Li Na said, clapping Ye on the back. "The energy's gone—no trace left."
That night, they celebrated at a small hot pot restaurant in Chengdu's Chinatown. The table was piled high with spicy beef, lotus roots, tofu, and green vegetables, all simmering in a bubbling broth. Qingyunzi told stories of Ye's childhood—how he'd snuck out to watch a martial arts movie in the nearby town and gotten lost, how he'd cried when his first peachwood sword broke, how he'd once tried to feed a stray goat ginseng (and gotten scolded for wasting the herb).
Ye blushed, but he smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Rui's hand. "Master's exaggerating," he said. "I only cried a little."
Qingyunzi laughed. "A little? You sobbed for an hour. Dao Feng had to give you his favorite candy to calm you down."
Dao Feng grinned. "It was a lollipop. Strawberry. His favorite."
Rui laughed, her heart warm. This was family—messy, loud, full of stories. She looked around the table, at Ye's smile, Dao Feng's grin, Qingyunzi's twinkling eyes, and knew she was exactly where she belonged.
After dinner, they walked back to their hotel. The street was quiet, the only sound from a nearby tea shop. Ye took her hand, swinging it between them. "What do you say we take a vacation? After we get back to New York. Go to Xuanqing Mountain. Watch the sunrise over the peaks. No cases, no spirits—just us."
Rui smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'd love that. More than anything."
They stopped outside her hotel room. Ye kissed her, his lips soft against hers. "Goodnight, Rui. I'll see you in the morning."
As she entered her room, Rui touched the peachwood pendant around her neck. It was warm, a quiet reminder of Ye, of Xuanqing, of the family she'd found. She knew their adventures weren't over—there would always be spirits, always cases, always danger—but with Ye by her side, she was ready for whatever came next.