The SUV's tires screeched against Brooklyn's rain-slicked streets, the wipers swishing in a frantic rhythm that matched Rui Lengyu's heartbeat. The fourth Pivot Shard lay on her lap, its surface still warm from her palm, the etched signature Lin Mei glowing faintly gold—like a tiny beacon, or a curse. Her mother's text hung in the air between them, the photo of her bound to a metal chair burned into Rui's mind: the way her hair was matted, the fear in her eyes, the fifth shard glinting on the table behind her.
"Ten minutes," Ye Shaoyang said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His peachwood sword, propped against the center console, pulsed brighter as they neared the asylum—its blade a steady gold, warning of Yin energy thick enough to taste. "Dao Feng, you got the glutinous rice?"
Dao Feng patted the burlap sack at his feet, the one Lao Guo had stuffed with cinnabar-soaked rice that morning. "And Master's 'Soul-Calming Talisman.' If the ghost is tied to the asylum's past, this should weaken it." He glanced at Rui, his voice softening. "You don't have to go in first. We can—"
"I have to." Rui cut him off, her hand tightening around the shard. Her Guan Yin pendant hummed, a low vibration that traveled up her neck. "It's my mom. And if my Yin Sight is right… she's in pain. I can feel it."
The Brooklyn Psychiatric Hospital loomed ahead, a gray brick monolith that looked more like a prison than a medical facility. Its windows were cracked, some boarded up with plywood, and the sign above the entrance was rusted, the words "Brooklyn Asylum" barely legible. Rain dripped from the overhang, pooling on the steps where a single payphone stood—its receiver dangling, swaying in the wind.
Ye killed the engine. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rain and the distant wail of an ambulance. He grabbed his sword, its glow now so bright it cast gold streaks across the dashboard. "Stay close. Split Ghosts feed on fear—don't let it get in your head."
They crept up the steps, the rice sack slung over Dao Feng's shoulder. The front door was unlocked, hanging off its hinges, and when they stepped inside, the smell hit them: a sickly mix of disinfectant, mildew, and something metallic—blood, old and dried. The lobby was a wreck: a reception desk overturned, files scattered across the floor, a broken wheelchair tilted against the wall.
Then, they heard it.
A woman's scream, high and desperate, echoing down the east corridor.
"Mom!" Rui took off, her boots skidding on the linoleum. Ye and Dao Feng chased after her, their footsteps thudding. The corridor was lined with patient rooms, their doors ajar, and through the gaps, Rui saw glimpses of the past: rusted bed frames, straitjackets hanging from hooks, walls covered in faded graffiti—"Help me" scrawled in what looked like red ink.
The scream came again, from the end of the hall.
Rui skidded to a stop outside Room 314. The door was closed, but through the window, she saw it: her mother, Lin Mei, huddled in the corner, her hands bound with rope. Surrounding her were three figures—pale, gaunt, wearing tattered white hospital gowns. Their faces were blank, their eyes black pits, and in each of their hands, they held a rusted scalpel.
Split Ghosts.
"Rui, wait—" Ye grabbed her arm, but it was too late. Rui pushed open the door, her rune chips already in her hand. The ghosts turned, their heads twisting at impossible angles, and lunged.
Dao Feng reacted first. He tossed the burlap sack into the air, and the glutinous rice spilled out, forming a silver circle on the floor as it hit the ground. The rice sizzled, smoking where it touched the ghosts' feet, and they screeched, jumping back. "Soul-Calming Talisman!" he yelled, tossing a yellow paper charm to Ye.
Ye caught it, biting through his thumb, and pressed a drop of blood to the talisman's center. He slammed it against the wall, and a burst of silver light exploded, pushing the ghosts back into the corner. "Rui, now! Your Yin Sight—find their core!"
Rui closed her eyes, letting the familiar tingle wash over her. The room blurred, and suddenly she was seeing double: the real asylum room, and a ghostly version of it, ten years in the past. She saw her mother, younger, tied to the same chair, a woman in a black cloak standing over her—Xuan Ying, her face cold. "Tell me where the shard is, Lin Mei," Xuan Ying said, her voice like ice. "Or I'll let the Split Ghosts have you."
The vision shifted. She saw the three Split Ghosts as they'd been in life: patients, all admitted in 2014, all driven to madness by Xuan Ying's experiments. One was a young woman named Xiao Yu, who'd been falsely diagnosed with schizophrenia; another was an old man, Mr. Zhang, who'd lost his wife to a Yin energy attack; the third was a teenager, Li Wei, who'd stumbled on Xuan Ying's hideout in the asylum's basement.
They weren't evil—they were trapped.
Rui opened her eyes, her voice steady. "Xiao Yu! Mr. Zhang! Li Wei! I see you. I see what Xuan Ying did to you." The ghosts froze, their scalpel-wielding hands lowering. "She used you. Tricked you into thinking this was the only way to rest. But it's not. Let my mom go, and I'll help you cross over. I promise."
Xiao Yu's ghost stepped forward, her blank eyes filling with tears. "You… you can see us?" she whispered. "You can hear us?"
Rui nodded, holding out her hand. "I can. And I'm sorry. For what she did. For what everyone did to you."
The ghosts looked at each other, then at Lin Mei. Slowly, they lowered their scalpels. The silver rice circle glowed brighter, and the ghosts began to fade—their bodies turning translucent, their faces softening. "Thank you," Xiao Yu said, before dissolving into light. Mr. Zhang and Li Wei followed, leaving only a faint wisp of smoke.
Lin Mei collapsed forward, her bonds falling away. Rui ran to her, hugging her tight, and for a second, the world stopped—just the sound of her mother's ragged breathing, the rain outside, the distant hum of the Pivot Shard.
"Rui," Lin Mei said, pulling back, her hands cupping Rui's face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to get involved. Xuan Ying… she's my senior fellow apprentice. We trained together at Xuanqing Mountain. She's always hated me—hated that Master chose me to be the Balance Keeper, not her."
Ye and Dao Feng stepped into the room, their expressions softening. Ye sheathed his sword, the gold glow fading to a faint hum. "We need to go. Xuan Ying could send more ghosts—"
The fifth Pivot Shard, which had fallen from Lin Mei's pocket when the ghosts vanished, suddenly exploded in light.
It hovered in mid-air, projecting a hologram onto the wall: Xuan Ying standing in a dark room, Zhou Xuan at her side. The room was lined with mirrors, and in the center, a sixth Pivot Shard glowed on a pedestal. "The Full Moon Ceremony is in seven days," Xuan Ying said, her voice cold. "We'll use the girl's blood to activate the Pivot. Once I'm the new Balance Keeper, nothing will stop us."
Zhou Xuan laughed, a bitter sound. "And what about Lin Mei? You said you'd let her go once we have the shards."
Xuan Ying turned, her eyes sharp. "I lied. She's a liability. Just like the girl."
The hologram cut off. The shard fell to the floor, clattering against the linoleum.
Lin Mei's face paled. "She's going to use you, Rui. The Balance Keeper's blood is the only thing that can unlock the Pivot's full power. She's been planning this for ten years—since Master banished her."
Rui picked up the fifth shard, its surface now cool. She looked at Ye, her heart heavy but her resolve firm. "We have seven days. To find the last two shards. To stop her."
Ye stepped forward, his hand resting on her shoulder. His thumb brushed her collarbone, right where the Guan Yin pendant lay, and the warmth returned—steady, reassuring. "We will. Together."
Dao Feng nodded, tucking the empty rice sack under his arm. "Master said the sixth shard is tied to water. Probably the Hudson River, or… the Statue of Liberty. The news said three divers went missing there yesterday. Coincidence?"
Rui's gaze drifted to the window, where the rain was easing. Outside, a figure stood in the parking lot—tall, cloaked, watching them. Xuan Ying. She raised a hand, holding up a small, glowing object—a sixth Pivot Shard—and mouthed a single word: "Soon."
Ye followed her gaze, his hand flying to his sword. But by the time he reached the door, Xuan Ying was gone, leaving only a puddle of water where she'd stood.
Rui clenched the two shards, their glow now synced. Seven days. Two more shards. A ceremony that could destroy everything.
But for the first time in ten years, she wasn't alone. She had Ye. She had Dao Feng. She had her mother.
And she wasn't going to let Xuan Ying win.
"Let's go," she said, turning to the others. "The Statue of Liberty isn't going to wait."
As they walked out of the asylum, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a faint rainbow over Brooklyn. But Rui didn't smile—not yet. She knew the worst was still to come.
Somewhere, Xuan Ying was watching. And the Pivot Shards were calling to each other—hungry, eager, ready to be reunited.
The hunt was just beginning.