The Pivot Shard in Rui Lengyu's blazer pocket hummed so violently it shook her arm, its golden glow seeping through the fabric to cast light on the car's dashboard. Outside, the Hudson River churned darkly under a bruised purple sky, and ahead, the SS Star of Hope loomed—an abandoned 1940s ocean liner, its hull rusted, its windows cracked, half-submerged in the water. Her phone blared with a Coast Guard alert: "3 Divers Missing Near Abandoned Liner; Sonar Detects 'Humanoid Shapes' in Cargo Hold." The attached sonar image made her throat tight: three faint blips huddled near the ship's bow, surrounded by a larger, shadowy mass—Yin energy, dense enough to distort the signal.
"Ship Ghost," Ye Shaoyang said, his fingers white on the steering wheel. He tapped the peachwood sword propped against the center console; its blade flared gold, reflecting off the river's surface. "1943. The Star of Hope was carrying Chinese immigrants to New York when it hit a U-boat mine. 150 people died, most trapped in the cargo hold. Their 怨念 (yuànniàn—resentment) merged into a Ship Ghost—now Xuan Ying's using it to guard the final Pivot fragment." He glanced at Rui, his voice softening. "You okay with going on board? I know you hate deep water."
Rui nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd never liked the river—too cold, too dark, too full of secrets—but the divers were alive, and the Shard's hum was a urgent plea. "I'm fine. Just… stay close."
Lin Mei leaned forward from the backseat, holding out a waterproof pouch filled with cinnabar-soaked runes. "These won't dissolve in water. And this—" she handed Rui a small jade pendant, identical to her Guan Yin "—it'll amplify your medium energy. The Ship Ghost's memories are tied to the cargo hold—you'll need to reach it to free the divers."
Dao Feng, who'd been quiet since the cemetery, spoke up, his eyes fixed on the liner. "Master's notebook says Ship Ghosts feed on 'nostalgia.' They relive their final moments over and over. Xuan Ying's been feeding it Yin energy to make it violent… but it's still just a group of scared people."
Ye parked the SUV at a small dock, where a Coast Guard boat bobbed in the water. A officer waved them over, his face grim. "The divers went in to check the cargo hold—said they saw a 'glowing box.' Next thing we heard, they were screaming. We tried to pull them out, but something—strong—tugged the rope. Cut it clean." He handed Ye a life jacket. "The ship's unstable. One wrong move, and it could collapse."
They climbed into the Coast Guard boat, the river's cold spray hitting Rui's face. The Star of Hope grew closer, its rusted nameplate barely legible, and the Shard in her pocket pulsed faster—now in sync with a faint green glow coming from the cargo hold. Ye helped her put on the life jacket, his fingers brushing hers as he adjusted the straps. "Be careful," he said, his voice low. "If anything goes wrong, yell. I'll find you."
The boat pulled up to the liner's rusted gangway. Ye was first to climb, his sword drawn, and Rui followed, her runes clutched in her hand. The deck was littered with debris—rotted lifeboats, broken crates, a tattered American flag—and the air smelled like salt and rot. Somewhere below, a door creaked, and a voice echoed: "Help… please… the water's cold."
"Cargo hold's that way." Dao Feng pointed to a metal door labeled "Cargo 3," its lock rusted through. He pulled out his Xuanqing Whisk, its silver bristles glowing faintly. "Lin Mei, you stay here—guard the gangway. If Xuan Ying shows, use the cinnabar."
They pushed open the door, and a wave of cold air rushed out, carrying the sound of rushing water. The cargo hold was half-flooded, the water black and murky, and floating in the center was the glowing box—the Pivot fragment, Rui realized, its light cutting through the darkness. But surrounding it were three figures: the divers, their bodies suspended in the water, their eyes closed, and behind them, the Ship Ghost—tall, translucent, wearing tattered 1940s life jackets, their faces twisted in fear.
"Leave!" the Ghost roared, waving a rusted pipe. Water surged forward, lifting Rui off her feet, and Ye grabbed her waist, pulling her onto a crates. "This is our ship! Xuan Ying said you'd come—said you'd take the box and leave us to rot!"
Rui steadied herself, her runes glowing blue. "We're not here to take anything! We're here to help you! To free you from Xuan Ying!" She closed her eyes, letting her medium energy flow—suddenly, she was standing on the deck in 1943, the mine exploding, people screaming, a young woman in a red dress clutching a locket. "I see you," she said, opening her eyes. "The mine. The cold water. You just wanted to go home."
The Ghost froze, the pipe falling from its hand. "You… you can see it?" a woman's voice asked, soft and broken. "My daughter—Xiao Hong. She was 3. I promised her we'd have a house in Chinatown."
Ye stepped forward, his sword lowered. "Xuan Ying lied to you. She said guarding the box would let you see your families. But she's using your pain to power the Pivot. Every life you take makes her stronger." He pulled out a Four-Blood Exorcism Pill, holding it up. "This won't hurt you. It'll break her control. Let you rest."
The Ghost hesitated, then looked at the divers. "They're still alive. In the 'Water Veil'—our realm. We can let them go. But… will we ever see our families?"
Lin Mei's voice called from the gangway: "I'm a Taoist. I can perform the Soul-Releasing Ritual. You'll find them in the Underworld. No more pain. No more waiting."
The Ghost nodded, and the water began to calm. The divers floated to the surface, still unconscious but breathing, and Dao Feng pulled them onto the crates. The glowing box drifted toward Rui, and she reached for it—inside was the final Pivot fragment, its surface etched with a ship's wheel, glowing green. As her fingers touched it, the fragment merged with the Shard in her pocket, and the Ship Ghost's form began to fade.
"Thank you," the woman's voice said, her translucent hand brushing Rui's cheek. "Tell Xiao Hong… I'm coming."
With a final flicker, they were gone. The water drained from the cargo hold, leaving only dry, dusty crates, and the Pivot Shard in Rui's pocket glowed bright—whole at last, its golden light casting warmth over the room.
Ye helped Rui stand, his hand lingering on her waist. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from her cheek. His eyes were warm, and for a second, the tension of the day faded—just the two of them, in the quiet cargo hold, the Pivot glowing between them. "You were amazing back there. Talking to the Ghost like that."
Rui's cheeks heated. "I couldn't have done it without you. You saved me from the water."
A cold wind rushed through the hold, and a voice echoed—Xuan Ying's, sharp and mocking. "How touching. You think merging the Pivot makes you strong? You're just a pawn, Rui. The Full Moon is tonight. The ancestral hall. Bring the Pivot. Bring your blood. Or Master Qingyunzi dies."
Ye's hand flew to his sword, but by the time he reached the door, Xuan Ying was gone—only a black feather floating in the air, etched with a tiny moon symbol. The Pivot Shard in Rui's pocket dimmed, its warmth fading, and she felt a sharp pain in her arm—the 咒毒 (zhòudú—curse poison) had spread, now reaching her shoulder, its black mark throbbing in time with her heartbeat.
Dao Feng carried the divers to the Coast Guard boat, his face grim. "We need to go. Now. Master's running out of time."
Lin Mei walked to Rui, her hand gentle on her arm. "The curse is reacting to the Pivot. Xuan Ying's using it to track you. Tonight's ceremony—she'll use your blood to activate the Pivot. To open the Yin-Yang Gate."
Rui 握紧 the Pivot Shard, its surface now cool. The Full Moon was hours away. The ancestral hall. Master Qingyunzi. Her blood.
But as she looked at Ye—his sword glowing, his hand in hers—she didn't feel fear. She felt resolve. They had the Pivot. They had the team. They had the spirits' trust.
"Let's go," she said, tucking the Shard into her blazer. "We have a Master to save."
As they climbed into the Coast Guard boat, the sun set over the Hudson, painting the sky in deep reds and oranges. The Star of Hope loomed behind them, its hull now quiet, its ghosts at peace. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang—12 times, marking midnight—and a cold wind swept through the river, carrying Xuan Ying's final warning:
"Tonight, the balance will be mine."
Rui's Guan Yin pendant burned, a urgent reminder of what was at stake. The final night was here. The ceremony was waiting.
But this time, Rui Lengyu wasn't going to let Xuan Ying win. She had the Pivot. She had Ye. She had the courage to face whatever came next.
And when the Full Moon rose over Chinatown, she would fight.
For Master. For her mother. For every spirit trapped in the dark.
No matter what.