The merged Pivot Shard lay on Rui Lengyu's desk, its golden glow casting soft streaks over her leather notebook. She'd spent the morning tracing its etched symbols—Yin-Yang swirls, bell motifs, lotus petals—trying to decode the faint whispers it emitted. "Balance… blood… ancestral hall…" the shard hummed, its vibration tickling her palm. Her Guan Yin pendant throbbed in sync, a low pulse that made her eyes burn—like it was trying to show her something, but the vision stayed just out of reach.
A knock on the door made her jump. Ye Shaoyang stood in the doorway, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, his peachwood sword glinting in the afternoon light. "Lao Guo sent over the cinnabar paste," he said, holding up a clay jar. "Said it's 'double-strength'—good for reinforcing your runes. Also brought… this." He pulled out a small, carved wooden box, its surface etched with Irish runes—Sowilo, Algiz, the ones Rui used most. "Carved it last night. Oak, soaked in holy water. Should hold your medium energy better."
Rui's chest warmed. She'd mentioned offhandedly that her old rune box was falling apart, but she hadn't thought he'd remember. She opened the box, running her finger over the smooth wood. "Thank you. It's perfect."
Ye's ears turned pink as he set the cinnabar on her desk. "Figured you'd need it. The ancestral hall's Yang Core—Lin Mei says it needs a 'synced offering'—your blood, the Pivot, and a rune set. We should practice combining your runes with my 符咒 (fúzhòu—talismans) . If Xuan Ying attacks during the ceremony, we need to move as one."
The SPU training room was a bare basement space, its walls lined with target dummies and shelves of paranormal gear. Dao Feng and Lin Mei were already there, Lin Mei drawing talismans on yellow paper, Dao Feng testing the Xuanqing Whisk's glow. A stack of oak rune chips sat on a table, and Lao Guo's ginger tea steamed in a thermos.
"First, the 'Sowilo-Algiz Combo'," Ye said, handing Rui a handful of runes. "You channel medium energy into the runes, I'll infuse the talismans with Yang fire. When we release together, the light should break through Yin barriers—like the one Xuan Ying will probably put around the ancestral hall."
Rui closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth in her chest—the core of her medium power. She pressed the runes to her palm, whispering the Irish incantation her grandmother taught her: "Sowilo, briseadh an dorchadas; Algiz, cosaint na h-ancestors." (Sowilo, break the darkness; Algiz, protect the ancestors.) The runes glowed blue, their light steady.
Ye bit his thumb, pressing blood to a talismans' center. "Tian gang di sha, zhen ya yin mo!" (Heavenly gang, earthly sha, suppress Yin demons!) The talisman flared gold, and when they released their power together, the blue and gold light merged into a brilliant beam, slicing through a dummy coated in Yin energy—its fabric smoking, the fake blood (cinnabar mixed with water) dripping off.
"Perfect," Dao Feng said, clapping. "That'll take down any low-level ghosts Xuan Ying sends. But the Yang Core ritual—we need to be precise. The altar under the ancestral hall has a stone compartment; we place the Pivot there, drip Rui's blood on it, and chant the 'Yang Awakening Spell'." He pulled out a scroll, unrolling it to reveal ancient Chinese characters. "Lin Mei and I will lead the chant. You two guard the perimeter."
A crash from the training room's back door made them jump. A figure in a black cloak stumbled in, their face hidden, and threw a handful of paper dolls—Xuan Ying's puppets—at Rui. The dolls unfolded, their black nails glinting, and lunged.
"Paper Puppet Curse!" Lin Mei yelled, throwing a talismans at the dolls. It stuck to one, burning it to ash, but the others kept coming.
Ye swung his sword, slicing through two dolls, while Rui hurled runes—this time, infusing them with the Pivot's energy. The runes exploded, blue light wrapping around the remaining dolls, turning them to smoke. The cloaked figure tried to run, but Dao Feng's whisk snared their ankle, yanking them to the floor.
It was a teenager, his face pale, his arm marked with Xuan Ying's black ink symbol. "She made me do it," he gasped, tears streaming down his face. "Said she'd hurt my little sister if I didn't. She's holding her… at the ancestral hall."
Lin Mei knelt beside him, her voice gentle. "Where exactly? The ancestral hall has three floors—basement, main hall, attic."
"The attic," he said, his voice shaking. "In a cage. With the other spirits— the opera ghost, the water ghost, the bell boy. She said if I didn't distract you, she'd feed them to the Pivot."
Rui's grip on the runes tightened. Xuan Ying wasn't just using the spirits as hostages—she was using innocent kids too. "We'll get your sister back," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I promise."
Ye called Mike, telling him to send agents to the ancestral hall's attic to rescue the girl. The teenager gave them a crumpled map—Xuan Ying's hand-drawn layout of the hall, with a red X marking the Yang Core's location. "She's got traps everywhere," he warned. "Tripwires that trigger Yin fire, mirrors that show your worst fears… don't look into the mirrors."
After the teenager left with Mike's agents, the room fell quiet. Lin Mei folded the map, her face grim. "She's accelerating. The Full Moon is tomorrow night—she wants us off-balance."
Rui picked up the Pivot Shard, its glow now dimmer. She closed her eyes, letting its whispers wash over her. This time, the vision came clear: the ancestral hall's main hall, Xuan Ying standing on the altar, the Pivot floating above her, the spirits trapped in glowing cages around the room. "She's already there," Rui said, opening her eyes. "Setting up the ritual. The Yang Core is weaker than we thought—she's been draining it for weeks."
Ye stepped forward, his hand resting on her arm. "We adjust. We go tonight, instead of tomorrow. Surprise her. Dao Feng, you and Lin Mei activate the Yang Core. I'll guard you. Rui, you free the spirits—your medium energy is the only thing that can break their cages."
Rui nodded, her resolve hardening. "What about the Pivot? If she gets it, she'll activate it immediately."
Ye pulled out his Four-Blood Exorcism Pill jar, shaking it. "We'll use these. If she tries to grab the Pivot, I'll throw a pill—should stun her long enough for you to take it back. And your runes—focus on the cages first. The spirits will help us once they're free."
Lao Guo arrived an hour later, carrying a bag of supplies: protective talismans for everyone, glutinous rice balls infused with Yang energy, and a new 桃木剑 (táomù jiàn—peachwood sword) for Ye, its blade carved with extra 镇魂符文 (zhènhún fúwén—soul-calming runes). "Mr. Li polished it this afternoon," he said, handing the sword to Ye. "Said it'll 'cut through Yin like butter'."
As the sun set, painting the sky orange, they gathered their gear. Rui slipped the wooden rune box into her blazer, the Pivot Shard warm against her chest. Ye adjusted his sword, then turned to her, his eyes soft. "Tonight's going to be hard," he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. "But I won't let anything happen to you. Not ever."
Rui's breath caught. She'd never heard him sound so sure, so gentle. She leaned into his touch, her voice quiet but steady. "I know. And I won't let anything happen to you either."
Dao Feng cleared his throat, pretending to adjust his whisk. "As cute as this is, we have a ghost to stop. And a teenager's sister to rescue."
They walked to the SUV, the night air cool. The ancestral hall's distant silhouette loomed in the dark, its windows dark—too dark. Rui's Guan Yin pendant throbbed, a urgent warning.
Before they climbed into the car, the Pivot Shard in her pocket suddenly flared. A hologram projected onto the ground: Xuan Ying, standing in the ancestral hall's main hall, the spirits' cages glowing around her. "You're coming tonight," she said, her voice cold. "Good. I wanted an audience. The Pivot's activation will be more… satisfying with you watching."
The hologram cut off. The shard dimmed, its warmth fading.
Ye squeezed Rui's hand. "She's trying to scare us. It won't work."
Rui nodded, but her stomach twisted. Xuan Ying was waiting. The traps were set. The spirits were suffering.
But this time, they weren't walking into a ambush. They were walking in with a plan. With each other. With hope.
She climbed into the SUV, the rune box secure in her pocket. The ancestral hall was ahead. The final push was here.
And she was ready.