The neon glow of Chinatown's red lanterns spilled over the hood of Ye Shaoyang's SUV as they pulled up to Mott Street, the sixth Pivot Shard in Rui Lengyu's pocket humming in sync with the night. Lao Guo's funeral parlor was a half-block away, its windows glowing with the warm flicker of joss paper, but their target loomed two doors down: Xuanqing Pavilion, the antique shop where Lin Mei had warned the seventh shard was hidden. Its sign—"Xuanqing Pavilion: Est. 1998"—was faded gold, peeling at the edges, and through the dusty window, Rui spotted a single jade Buddha sitting on a shelf, its surface faintly glowing green.
Lao Guo was already waiting on the sidewalk, his blue apron smudged with incense ash, a thermos of hot ginger tea in his hand. "She's been here," he said, handing the thermos to Rui. His voice was low, urgent. "An hour ago. Black cloak, hood up. Bought a fake Taoist talisman—said she 'needed it for a ceremony.' I saw her touch the jade Buddha before she left. The stone's been glowing ever since."
Rui took a sip of tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. Her Guan Yin pendant had been throbbing since they'd entered Chinatown, a quiet warning of thick Yin energy. "The jade spirit—you know it?"
Lao Guo nodded, his eyes darting to the shop's window. "Master Jiang. 15th-century jade carver. He made that Buddha for the Ming emperor, but Xuan Ying's ancestor stole it, forced him to carve 'Yin-Yang Jade' into the base. Jiang killed himself rather than help, and his soul bound to the Buddha. He's not evil—just angry. Trapped for 500 years."
Ye grabbed his peachwood sword from the SUV, its blade glowing gold as he stepped onto the sidewalk. "We go in quiet. Dao Feng, you and Lin Mei stand guard outside—if Xuan Ying comes back, hold her off. Rui and I will talk to Master Jiang."
The shop's door jingled when Ye pushed it open, the sound thick with dust. Inside, the air smelled like aged rice paper, polished jade, and a hint of cinnabar—sharp, metallic, the same scent that clung to Xuan Ying. Shelves lined every wall, packed with curios: cracked porcelain vases, rolled scrolls, small statues of Taoist deities with faces worn smooth by time. At the center of the back wall, the jade Buddha sat on a velvet cushion, its eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Show yourself, Master Jiang," Ye called, his sword raised slightly. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to free you."
A low hum filled the room. The jade Buddha's eyes flickered, and suddenly, a figure materialized beside it—tall, wearing a Ming Dynasty scholar's robe, his hands stained green from jade dust. His face was gaunt, his eyes filled with sorrow, and in his hand, he held a chipped jade carving of a lotus.
"Another thief," he said, his voice like wind through stone. "Here to take the Buddha? To use the Yin-Yang Jade? Just like Xuan Ying's ancestor?"
Rui stepped forward, her hands raised in peace. "No. We're here to break the curse. To let you rest. Xuan Ying's using your pain to guard the Pivot Shard. She lied to you—said guarding it would let you find your family, didn't she?"
Master Jiang's face softened. "You… you know my story?"
"I do." Rui pulled out her leather notebook, flipping to a page she'd copied from Master Qingyunzi's journal— a sketch of Master Jiang, labeled "Jiang Yu, 1452-1498, Martyred for Refusing Yin Craft." "Your daughter, Xiao Ya. She was 7 when you died. You carved her a jade rabbit every birthday. You wanted to go home to her."
Tears welled in Master Jiang's eyes. The jade lotus in his hand glowed, and a vision flashed in the air: a small girl with pigtails, holding a jade rabbit, waiting by a door. "I never got to say goodbye," he whispered. "Xuan Ying's ancestor promised I'd see her if I carved the Yin-Yang Jade. I refused. He killed me, bound my soul to the Buddha. Said I'd never rest."
Ye lowered his sword, his voice gentle. "We can fix that. Lin Mei—Rui's mother—is a Taoist. She can perform the 'Soul-Releasing Ritual.' You'll find Xiao Ya in the Underworld. No more traps. No more pain."
Master Jiang hesitated, then looked at the Buddha's base. "The shard is there. In the Yin-Yang Jade. But you must promise—destroy the Yin-Yang Jade. Don't let anyone use it. Not Xuan Ying. Not anyone."
Rui nodded. "I promise."
The jade Buddha's base suddenly split open, revealing a small cavity. Inside, the seventh Pivot Shard glowed green, its surface etched with the same Yin-Yang pattern as the Buddha. Rui reached for it, but before her fingers touched the shard, the room shook.
A burst of black smoke exploded from the shop's back door, and Xuan Ying stepped through, Zhou Xuan at her side. "Foolish spirit," she said, her voice cold. "You think they'll keep their promise? They'll use the Pivot too—just like I will."
Master Jiang roared, his body expanding into a towering figure of jade. He swung a fist at Xuan Ying, but she dodged, her dagger slashing at his arm. Green light spilled from the wound, and Master Jiang stumbled back.
"Rui, take the shard!" Ye yelled, swinging his sword at Zhou Xuan. Their blades clashed, sparks flying, and Dao Feng burst through the door, his Xuanqing Whisk glowing silver as he wrapped it around Zhou Xuan's legs.
Rui grabbed the seventh shard, its surface hot against her palm. The moment she touched it, Master Jiang's body began to fade—his form dissolving into green light. "Thank you," he said, his voice echoing. "Tell Xiao Ya… I'm sorry I was late."
With a final smile, he vanished. The jade Buddha's glow dimmed, the Yin-Yang Jade on its base cracking into dust.
Xuan Ying screamed, her dagger flying toward Rui. Ye tackled her to the floor, the dagger embedding itself in the wall above them. Their faces were inches apart, his breath warm on her cheek, and for a second, Rui forgot about the shards, about Xuan Ying, about everything but the way his hand was pressed to her waist, steady and strong.
"Get off them!" Zhou Xuan yelled, swinging his sword at Ye. Dao Feng pulled Ye out of the way, and Lin Mei rushed in, throwing a handful of cinnabar at Xuan Ying. It burned her arm, and she hissed, grabbing Zhou Xuan's hand.
"This isn't over," she said, her eyes locked on Rui. "The Full Moon Ceremony is in three days. I'll come for the shards. For your blood."
She vanished into black smoke, Zhou Xuan following. The shop went quiet, the only sound their ragged breathing.
Ye helped Rui stand, his hands brushing dust from her blazer. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb lingering on her elbow. His ears were red, and Rui realized their earlier fall had been another accidental brush—closer this time, warmer.
"I'm fine," she said, her cheeks heating. She held up the seventh shard, its glow now syncing with the other six in her pocket. "We have all of them. All seven Pivot Shards."
Dao Feng let out a breath, leaning against a shelf. "Good. Now we just need to stop Xuan Ying from using them. Master said the ceremony needs a 'balance point'—the ancestral hall in Chinatown. That's where she'll be."
Lin Mei walked to the window, her gaze fixed on the street. "She's watching us. I can feel her. She's not just after the shards—she's after Rui's blood. The Balance Keeper's blood is the only thing that can activate the Pivot fully."
Rui's hand tightened around the shards. Seven shards. Three days. A ceremony that would either save New York or destroy it.
But as she looked at Ye—his sword still glowing, his eyes steady—she felt a flicker of hope. They had the shards. They had each other.
Ye must have seen the worry in her face. He stepped closer, his voice soft. "We'll stop her. Together. I promise."
His hand brushed hers, and the Pivot Shards in her pocket glowed brighter, as if echoing his words.
Lao Guo poked his head through the door, holding up the thermos of tea. "You kids okay? Heard yelling. Brought more ginger tea—you'll need it. The ancestral hall's been acting up too. Elders say they've seen 'clock shadows' there. Like something's trying to get in."
"Clock shadows?" Dao Feng said, frowning. "Master's notebook—there's a 'Bell Spirit' tied to the ancestral hall's clock tower. 1920s, a kid fell off the tower while fixing the clock. His soul bound to the bell. Xuan Ying's probably using him too."
Rui's Guan Yin pendant throbbed. She looked at the seventh shard, now etched with a tiny clock face— a new mark, one that hadn't been there before.
"She's already set the next trap," she said, holding up the shard. "The ancestral hall. The Bell Spirit. She wants us to come to her."
Ye sheathed his sword, his jaw tight. "Then we go. But this time, we're ready."
As they walked out of Xuanqing Pavilion, the Chinatown lanterns flickered, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. Somewhere in the darkness, Xuan Ying watched, her hand resting on a small bell— the Bell Spirit's prison.
Three days. The Full Moon Ceremony.
The final battle was about to begin.