The seventh Pivot Shard burned in Rui Lengyu's palm, its glow shifting from green to gold as Ye Shaoyang's SUV pulled into Central Park's south entrance. The clock tower loomed ahead, a stone monolith rising above the trees, its face dim except for the faint flicker of a single light in the belfry. Her phone buzzed with a community alert—"Central Park Clock Tower: Unusual Bell Chimes (13 Strikes at 9 PM) Reported; Residents Hear 'Child's Cry'"—and the photo attached made her throat tight: a blurry image of a small figure in the belfry, clinging to the bell's rope.
"Xiao Ming," Dao Feng said, leaning forward from the backseat. He tapped Master Qingyunzi's notebook, where a faded photo of a boy in 1920s overalls was taped next to a sketch of the clock tower. "1920. He was 8, helping his dad fix the bell. Fell from the belfry. His body was never found—legend says his soul bound to the bell, waiting for someone to 'help him find his mom.'"
Lin Mei's hands tightened around her cinnabar vial. "Xuan Ying would've preyed on that. Gave him candy, told him guarding the shard would let him see his mom again. Kids are easy to trick—especially lonely ones."
Ye parked the SUV near the tower's stone base, the engine cutting out with a soft hum. The night air smelled like pine and damp earth, and the bell tower's clock struck 10 PM—13 times, not 10, the final chime lingering like a whimper. His peachwood sword flared gold, casting light over the tower's cracked stone steps, and he slung a canvas bag over his shoulder—stuffed with extra talismans, glutinous rice, and a small jar of his Four-Blood Exorcism Pills.
"Dao Feng, you and Lin Mei set up a barrier around the tower," he said, handing Rui a flashlight. "If Xuan Ying shows, hold her off. Rui and I will go up—bell spirits hate loud noises, so my sword's glow should keep it distracted long enough for you to talk to it."
Rui nodded, tucking the shard into her blazer pocket. Her Guan Yin pendant throbbed, a steady pulse that matched the bell's distant hum. "I'll need to get close. Bell spirits' memories are tied to their 'regret'—Xiao Ming's is falling. I have to make him relive it, but gently."
The tower's door was unlocked, its iron hinges squeaking as they pushed it open. Inside, the staircase wound upward, narrow and dark, with cobwebs strung between the stone walls. The flashlight's beam cut through the gloom, revealing scratch marks on the steps—small, child-sized, as if someone had clawed their way up.
"Stay behind me," Ye said, his hand brushing her elbow. His fingers were warm through her sleeve, and the shard in her pocket dimmed, as if reassured by his presence. "The belfry's at the top—300 steps. Take it slow."
They climbed in silence, the only sounds their breathing and the distant creak of the bell. At the 200th step, Rui heard it: a soft cry, high and thin, echoing from above. "Mommy?" the voice whispered. "I'm scared."
Ye's sword flared brighter, casting gold light over the final flight of steps. "Almost there. Remember—calm. He's just a kid."
The belfry was a small, circular room, its walls lined with old tools and a rusted workbench. The bell hung in the center, its surface green with patina, and tied to its rope was a tattered red scarf—knitted, with a frayed rabbit patch. And standing beside it was Xiao Ming: small, in overalls too big for his frame, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear.
"Go away," he said, backing away from them. He grabbed the bell's rope, yanking it hard. The bell rang once, a deafening sound that made Rui's ears ring, and a wave of cold Yin energy rushed forward, pushing her into the wall.
Ye swung his sword, the blade's glow cutting through the energy. "We're not here to hurt you! We're here to help you find your mom!"
Xiao Ming's lip trembled. "You're lying. The lady in black said if I guard the shard, she'll bring my mom. She gave me candy—strawberry, my favorite." He pulled a crumpled candy wrapper from his pocket, its red plastic faded. "She said you'd try to take it. That you'd make me 'disappear.'"
Rui stepped forward, her hands raised in peace. She pulled out her leather notebook, flipping to a page she'd copied from the New York Historical Society's archives— a 1920 newspaper clipping: "Missing Child: Xiao Ming, 8, Last Seen at Central Park Clock Tower. Mother (Mrs. Wang) Offers Reward." "I know your mom, Xiao Ming. Her name's Mrs. Wang. She looked for you for years. She never stopped loving you."
Xiao Ming's eyes filled with tears. The bell behind him began to glow, and a vision flashed in the air: a woman with a red scarf (the same one tied to the rope) hugging a boy, laughing as she handed him a strawberry candy. "I just wanted to fix the bell for her," he whispered. "Dad said it'd make her proud. Then I slipped… and fell."
Rui's heart ached. She took a slow step forward, her voice soft. "The lady in black—Xuan Ying—lied to you. She won't bring your mom. She's using you to hurt people. But I can help. I'm a medium. I can send you to the Underworld, where your mom is waiting. You'll get to hug her again. No more being scared."
Ye lowered his sword, his voice gentle. "We promise. No tricks. No lies."
Xiao Ming looked at the bell, then at Rui. He reached into his overalls' pocket, pulling out a small, glowing object—the eighth Pivot Shard? No—wait, the seventh was already in Rui's hand. This was… the final shard. The eighth. She'd miscounted earlier—Xuan Ying had split the Pivot into eight pieces, not seven.
"I hid it from her," Xiao Ming said, holding out the shard. Its surface was etched with a tiny bell, glowing gold. "She got mad. Said she'd 'make me sorry.' But I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted my mom."
Rui took the shard, its warmth merging with the seventh in her pocket. The two pieces hummed, syncing into a single glow, and Xiao Ming's body began to fade—his form turning translucent, his face softening. "Tell her I love her," he said, his voice echoing. "Tell her I fixed the bell."
With a final wave, he vanished. The bell's rope went slack, and the red scarf fluttered to the floor. Rui picked it up, the fabric still soft, and tucked it into her bag— a memento, for when she told Xiao Ming's mom he was at peace.
Ye helped her stand, his hand lingering on her waist. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb brushing a smudge of dust from her cheek. His eyes were warm, and for a second, the tension of the night faded—just the two of them, in the quiet belfry, the shards glowing between them.
"I'm okay," she said, her cheeks heating. She held up the two shards, now merged into a single golden piece. "Eighth shard. She split the Pivot into eight. We have all of them now."
A cold wind rushed through the belfry's window, and a voice echoed—Xuan Ying's, sharp and mocking. "All of them? How cute. But the Pivot needs more than just shards, Rui. It needs you."
Ye's hand flew to his sword, but by the time he reached the window, Xuan Ying was gone—only a black feather floating in the air, etched with a tiny moon symbol.
Dao Feng's voice came over Ye's walkie-talkie, urgent. "Guys, get down here! Xuan Ying left a note—taped to the tower's door. It's addressed to Rui."
They rushed down the stairs, the merged shard glowing bright in Rui's hand. The note was scrawled in black ink, its characters sharp: "Full Moon. Ancestral Hall. Bring the Pivot. Bring your blood. If you don't, the 'old friends' you saved—Su Yurong, the Water Ghost, Xiao Ming—will be trapped forever. No more second chances."
Lin Mei's face paled. "She's binding their souls to the Pivot. If we don't go, she'll destroy them. Destroy everything we've fixed."
Rui clenched the shard, its warmth now feeling like a chain. The Full Moon was in two days. The ancestral hall—Chinatown's heart, where the elders gathered to honor the dead. Xuan Ying had chosen her battlefield, and she was using the spirits they'd saved as leverage.
But as she looked at Ye—his sword glowing, his eyes steady—she didn't feel fear. She felt resolve. They had the Pivot. They had each other. They had the spirits' trust.
"We go," she said, turning to the group. "But we don't go alone. We bring the elders. We bring Master's talismans. We bring everything we have."
Ye nodded, his hand brushing hers. "Together. Always."
Dao Feng folded the note, his jaw tight. "Master said the ancestral hall has a 'Yang Core'—hidden under the altar. If we can activate it, it'll weaken the Pivot's Yin energy. Lin Mei, you know the ritual?"
Lin Mei nodded. "I do. But it needs a 'balance offering'—something with both Yin and Yang. The merged shard. And Rui's blood—just a drop, to sync with the core."
Rui's Guan Yin pendant throbbed, a quiet reminder of the spirits they'd saved. Su Yurong, who'd wanted to rest. The Water Ghost, who'd missed his wife. Xiao Ming, who'd just wanted his mom.
She wouldn't let Xuan Ying take that from them.
As they walked back to the SUV, the clock tower struck 11 PM—12 chimes, normal now, the bell's hum soft and peaceful. Somewhere in the darkness, Xiao Ming's laugh echoed, faint but clear.
The Full Moon was coming. The final battle was near.
But this time, Rui Lengyu was ready. With Ye by her side, the Pivot in her hand, and the spirits' hope guiding her—she would stop Xuan Ying.
And she would set everyone free.