The hum of the Pivot Shard in Rui Lengyu's blazer pocket sharpened as Ye Shaoyang's SUV glided past Wall Street's marble skyscrapers. Morning light gilded the New York Stock Exchange's columns, but the air carried a sour undercurrent—Yin energy, thick enough to make her Guan Yin pendant burn against her chest. Her phone blared with a breaking news alert: "Wealth Manager Found Dead in Morgan Bank Vault; Clutches Gold Bar, Eyes Blackened by 'Unknown Toxin'". The photo attached made her jaw tighten: Mr. Han, 45, his fingers curled around a tarnished gold bar, a faint black 咒印 (zhòuyìn—curse mark) on his wrist—identical to the one Xuan Ying had left on the teenager from the training room.
"Greed Ghost," Dao Feng said, leaning forward from the backseat. He tapped Master Qingyunzi's notebook, where a sketch of a shadowy figure clutching gold coins was labeled "Li Wen, 1890-1929, Bankrupt Financier, Bound by Greed Yin". "1929 Crash. He embezzled clients' money to save his business, then shot himself in the vault when it failed. His lingering resentment clung to the gold—Xuan Ying amplified it, turned him into a 'soul collector.' Every victim he kills feeds the Pivot."
Lin Mei's fingers tightened around her cinnabar vial. "Greed Ghosts don't just kill—they make their victims want the gold. Mr. Han didn't break into the vault—he begged the guard to let him in. Said he 'needed just one more bar' to 'fix everything.'" She glanced at Rui, her voice softening. "Your medium energy is the only way to reach him. He's not evil—he's trapped in his own guilt. You have to make him see that wealth isn't worth the pain."
Ye parked the SUV across from Morgan Bank, its limestone facade imposing even in the morning light. Cops milled around the entrance, tape strung across the doors, and a crowd of bankers in tailored suits whispered nervously. When Ye flashed his SPU badge, a detective stepped aside, his face grim. "Vault's on the basement level. Forensics says the gold bar's 'contaminated'—glows faintly under UV light. And there's… something else. The security footage—Mr. Han was talking to someone. No one's there, but you can hear a voice: 'Just one more bar. It'll make the pain go away.'"
The bank's basement was cold, the air thick with the smell of old money and rust. The vault door stood ajar, its metal surface etched with faint Yin symbols, and inside, the lights flickered. Mr. Han's body had been removed, but the gold bar remained on the floor, its surface glinting with an unnatural green hue. Ye's peachwood sword flared gold, casting light over the vault's shelves—stacked with old ledgers, dusty safe deposit boxes, and a single, open box labeled "Li Wen, 1929".
"Stay close," Ye said, his hand brushing Rui's elbow. His fingers were warm through her blazer, and the Pivot Shard in her pocket dimmed, as if reassured by his presence. "Greed Ghosts attack when you let your desire show. Don't look at the gold for too long."
Rui nodded, pulling out her oak rune chips. She'd soaked them in Lao Guo's double-strength cinnabar paste the night before, and they glowed faintly blue in her palm. She stepped into the vault, her Yin Sight activating—she saw him immediately: Li Wen, a tall man in a 1920s three-piece suit, his face gaunt, his hands clutching a stack of ghostly gold bars. He stood beside the open safe deposit box, muttering to himself: "Just one more. Just enough to pay back the clients. Just enough to see my daughter."
"Li Wen," Rui said, her voice steady. The ghost froze, his head twisting toward her—his eyes were black pits, his mouth a tight line of guilt. "I know why you're here. The 1929 Crash. The embezzled money. You wanted to fix it. To make it right."
Li Wen's body trembled. The gold bars in his hands flickered, and a vision flashed in the air: a small girl with pigtails, holding a doll, waiting by a door. "Xiao Ya," he whispered. "My daughter. She was 5. I promised her a new dress for her birthday. I couldn't even buy bread." He looked at the gold bar on the floor, his voice breaking. "The man in the vault—Mr. Han. He wanted to buy his wife's medical treatment. I told him the gold would help. I lied. It just… made him want more."
Ye stepped forward, his sword lowered. "Xuan Ying lied to you too. She said guarding the gold would let you see Xiao Ya. But she's using your guilt to feed the Pivot. Every life you take makes her stronger. Not you."
Li Wen's black eyes filled with tears. The gold bars dissolved into smoke, and he collapsed to his knees. "I just wanted to be a good father. I just wanted to stop the pain."
Rui knelt beside him, her runes glowing brighter. "You can. I'm a medium. I can send you to the Underworld. You'll find Xiao Ya. You can tell her you're sorry. You can finally rest."
A cold wind rushed into the vault, and Li Wen's body tensed. "She's here," he whispered, his head snapping toward the door. "Xuan Ying. She'll stop you."
Sure enough, Xuan Ying stepped through the doorway, Zhou Xuan at her side. She wore a black cloak, her hair flowing loose, and in her hand, she held a gold bar etched with the Pivot's symbol. "Foolish spirit," she said, her voice cold. "You think they'll set you free? They'll let you rot, just like everyone else."
Li Wen roared, his body expanding into a towering figure of shadow. He swung a fist at Xuan Ying, but she dodged, her dagger slashing at his arm. Black smoke poured from the wound, and he stumbled back. "Rui, take the gold!" Ye yelled, swinging his sword at Zhou Xuan. Their blades clashed, sparks flying, and Dao Feng burst into the vault, his Xuanqing Whisk glowing silver as he wrapped it around Zhou Xuan's legs.
Rui grabbed the gold bar, its surface hot against her palm. The Pivot Shard in her pocket flared, resonating with the bar's energy, and Li Wen's body began to fade—his form turning translucent, his face softening. "Tell Xiao Ya I love her," he said, his voice echoing. "Tell her I'm sorry I was late."
With a final wave, he vanished. The gold bar's glow dimmed, the Yin symbols on its surface cracking into dust.
Xuan Ying screamed, her dagger flying toward Rui. Ye tackled her to the floor, the dagger embedding itself in the vault wall above them. Their faces were inches apart, his breath warm on her cheek, and for a second, Rui forgot about the Pivot, about Xuan Ying, about everything but the way his hand was pressed to her waist—steady, protective, like he'd never let her fall.
"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 is tomorrow. The ancestral hall. Bring the Pivot. Bring your blood. Or the spirits you saved—Su Yurong, Li Wen, Xiao Ming—will be trapped forever. No more second chances."
She vanished into black smoke, Zhou Xuan following. The vault 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 fall had been closer than before—his shoulder pressed to hers, his knee between her legs, a split second of warmth that made her cheeks heat.
"I'm okay," she said, her voice softer than she intended. She held up the gold bar, now cool to the touch. "It has a map. Look—etched on the bottom."
Ye took the bar, turning it over. A faint outline of Central Park was carved into the metal, with a red X marking the fountain. "She's leading us there," he said, his jaw tight. "Another trap. Probably a Water Ghost or a Tree Spirit—something tied to the park's history."
Dao Feng leaned against the vault wall, his whisk still glowing faintly. "Master's notebook says Central Park has a 'Willow Spirit'—1850s, a woman named Mrs. Liu who drowned herself in the lake after her son died. Her 怨念 clings to the willow trees by the fountain. Xuan Ying's probably using her to guard the final Pivot fragment."
Lin Mei walked to the vault door, her gaze fixed on the bank's lobby. "She's watching us. I can feel her Yin energy. She's not just after the Pivot—she's after the 'balance' between you two." She nodded at Rui and Ye, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Your bond is strong. Stronger than any Yin energy. It scares her."
Rui's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Ye, who was already looking at her, his eyes warm. The Pivot Shard in her pocket hummed, its glow now syncing with the gold bar's map. Tomorrow night. The Full Moon. The ancestral hall.
Everything was leading to that moment.
Lao Guo arrived at the bank ten minutes later, carrying a thermos of ginger tea and a paper bag of glutinous rice balls. "Heard the commotion," he said, handing Rui a tea cup. "Cops said you 'talked a ghost into moving on.' Typical SPU stuff." He winked, then grew serious. "The elders are gathering at the ancestral hall tonight. They want to help—Mr. Li's bringing his peach wood carvings, Mrs. Wong's making 'soul-calming soup.' They won't let Xuan Ying hurt this neighborhood."
Rui took a sip of tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. The gold bar's map glinted in the vault light, Central Park's fountain calling. The Willow Spirit. The final fragment. Tomorrow's ceremony.
But as she looked at Ye—his sword still glowing, his eyes steady—she didn't feel fear. She felt ready. They had the team. They had the plan. They had each other.
Ye folded the gold bar's map, tucking it into his pocket. "We go to Central Park tomorrow at dawn. Scout the fountain, set up barriers. Tonight, we rest. We'll need our strength."
Rui nodded, but she didn't move. She was still holding the gold bar, its surface now cool, and the Pivot Shard in her pocket hummed a quiet melody—like it was singing, not whispering. Balance. Bond. Hope.
She handed the gold bar to Dao Feng, then turned to Ye. "Let's go," she said, her voice steady. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
As they walked out of the bank, the Wall Street bankers stared, but Rui didn't care. She was focused on the road ahead—the park, the Willow Spirit, the ancestral hall. The final battle.
Somewhere in the distance, a willow tree rustled, even though there was no wind. The Willow Spirit was waiting. Xuan Ying was waiting.
But this time, Rui Lengyu wasn't walking into the dark alone. She had Ye by her side, the Pivot in her hand, and a community of people who believed in her.
She was ready.
And when the Full Moon rose tomorrow night, she would stop Xuan Ying. She would free the spirits. She would protect the balance.
No matter what.
Chapter 8: The Bone Spirit of Queens Cemetery
The Pivot Shard in Rui Lengyu's blazer pocket pulsed like a nervous heartbeat as Ye Shaoyang's SUV cut through the quiet streets of Queens. Dawn had barely broken, painting the sky in soft pinks, but the air carried a sharp chill—Yin energy, thick enough to make her Guan Yin pendant burn against her chest. Her phone buzzed with a frantic text from Xiao Li: "Master's gone. The cemetery—he said he 'needed to fix the mistake.' I found his Taoist robe by the old locust tree." The photo attached made her throat tight: a tattered gray robe, its sleeve stained with black cinnabar, the same mark Xuan Ying used.
"Bone Spirit," Dao Feng said, his voice tight as he stared at the text. He flipped open Master Qingyunzi's notebook to a dog-eared page, where a photo of a man in a Taoist robe was taped next to a sketch of a skeleton tangled in roots. "Master Zhang—my senior. Ten years ago, we were in the Yin Nest together. I ran when the ghosts attacked. He stayed to cover me… and never came back. Xuan Ying must've bound his soul to the cemetery's locust tree. Turned him into a Bone Spirit."
Lin Mei's fingers brushed the cinnabar vial in her pocket, her eyes soft with sympathy. "He's not attacking to hurt—he's angry. At you, at himself, at Xuan Ying. You have to face him, Dao Feng. Apologize. That's the only way to break his curse."
Ye parked the SUV at the edge of Queens Cemetery, its iron gates rusted shut, ivy crawling over the bars. The air smelled like damp earth and decaying flowers, and the old locust tree loomed ahead—its branches gnarled, its leaves wilted, even in the spring. Xiao Li was waiting by the gates, his face pale, clutching a small wooden whisk—Master Zhang's, Rui realized, its silver bristles dimmed with Yin energy.
"He went in an hour ago," Xiao Li said, his voice shaking. "I tried to stop him, but he said… he said 'Dao Feng needs to see what he left behind.' The ground's been shaking since. I heard bones rattling. Like someone's digging."
Ye pulled his peachwood sword from the center console, its blade flaring gold as he stepped out of the car. "Dao Feng, you stay with Xiao Li—talk to him, calm him down. Rui and I will go in first. Bone Spirits react to guilt—if you're too close, he'll lash out."
Rui nodded, tucking her oak rune chips into her blazer pocket. Her Yin Sight flickered to life as they pushed open the gates, and she saw him immediately: Master Zhang's spirit, towering over the locust tree, his body made of tangled bones and roots, his eyes glowing black. He held a rusted shovel, and at his feet, a grave had been dug—its soil turned over, a single 玄铁 (xuántiě—dark iron) box half-buried.
"Dao Feng!" Master Zhang roared, his voice like gravel. The shovel swung toward Rui, and Ye pulled her out of the way, his sword slicing through a root that had shot up from the ground. "You left me! You let me die! Now you let this girl play hero?"
Rui stumbled back, her runes glowing blue in her palm. "He's sorry!" she yelled, throwing a handful of chips at the Bone Spirit. They exploded on contact, wrapping him in light, but he broke free easily, his bones clattering. "He's spent ten years blaming himself! He joined the SPU to help people— to make up for it!"
Master Zhang laughed, a harsh, hollow sound. He slammed the shovel into the ground, and bones erupted from the soil—human, animal, tangled together—forming a cage around Ye. "Words mean nothing! He ran when I needed him! Just like he'll run from Xuan Ying!"
From the cemetery gates, Dao Feng's voice cut through the noise: "I'm not running."
He walked forward, his Xuanqing Whisk glowing silver, Xiao Li at his side. His face was pale, but his jaw was set—resolute. "I'm sorry, Master. I was scared. I was 18, and I'd never seen so many ghosts. I thought if I ran, I could get help. But I was wrong. I left you to die. And I've hated myself for it ever since."
Master Zhang's bones stilled. The shovel fell from his hand, and his glowing eyes softened. "You… you've been trying?"
Dao Feng nodded, pulling out a small photo from his pocket—himself, Ye, and a group of young Taoists from the New York 分舵 (fēnduō—branch). "I teach them. How to draw talismans, how to calm spirits. I never let anyone else feel the way I did that day. The way you did."
The Bone Spirit's form began to flicker, his bones turning translucent. The 玄铁(xuántiě—dark iron) box at his feet clicked open, revealing a small, glowing object—the final Pivot fragment, its surface etched with a locust tree. "Xuan Ying said if I guarded it, she'd let me haunt you forever," he whispered. "But I don't want that. I want you to be better. To not let fear control you."
Rui stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "I can send you to the Underworld. You'll find peace. No more anger. No more pain."
Master Zhang nodded, his bones dissolving into light. The Pivot fragment floated toward Rui, merging with the shard in her pocket—now whole, its golden glow bright enough to make the cemetery's shadows retreat. "Tell Dao Feng… I'm proud of him," he said, his voice fading. "And tell Xiao Li… keep practicing his talismans."
With a final flicker, he was gone. The bones in the soil crumbled to dust, and the locust tree's leaves began to green—slow, but sure.
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 morning faded—just the two of them, in the quiet cemetery, the Pivot glowing between them.
"I'm okay," she said, her cheeks heating. She held up the merged Pivot, its surface now etched with all the spirits they'd saved: a bell, a gold bar, a locust tree. "It's whole. All fragments. We have the Pivot."
Xiao Li ran forward, his eyes wide. "Master Zhang… he's gone?"
Dao Feng nodded, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's at peace. And he's proud of you. Now we need to keep practicing—for him."
A cold wind swept through the cemetery, and Lin Mei's voice called from the gates: "We need to go. Now."
She held up her phone, a news alert glowing on the screen: "Central Park Fountain: 'Willow Roots Attack Joggers'—Witnesses Report 'Woman's Cry'." Below it was a photo: the fountain's water blackened, willow roots coiling around a bench, a faint green glow coming from the depths.
"Willow Spirit," Ye said, his jaw tight. He sheathed his sword, the Pivot's glow dimming as they walked toward the car. "Xuan Ying's next trap. She's using the park's history—1850s, a woman drowned herself there. Mrs. Liu, Master's notebook said."
Rui's Guan Yin pendant throbbed, a quiet warning. The Full Moon was tonight. The ancestral hall. Xuan Ying's ceremony.
But as she looked at Ye—his hand brushing hers, his steps steady—she didn't feel fear. She felt ready. They had the Pivot. They had the team. They had the spirits' trust.
Lin Mei slipped a small pouch into Rui's hand—dried 阴阳草 (yīn yáng cǎo—Yin-Yang Grass), its leaves half-black, half-green. "Master Qingyunzi sent this. Said it's the only thing that can weaken the Pivot during the ceremony. Plant it under the ancestral hall's altar, and it'll absorb the Yin energy."
Rui clenched the pouch, its contents crisp. The cemetery's locust tree rustled in the wind, as if saying goodbye.
"Let's go," she said, turning to the group. "The Willow Spirit's waiting. And so is Xuan Ying."
As they climbed into the SUV, the sun rose higher, casting gold light over the cemetery. Somewhere in Central Park, a willow tree's roots stirred, and a woman's cry echoed—soft, but clear.
The final trap was set. The Full Moon was near.
But this time, Rui Lengyu wasn't walking into the dark. She had Ye by her side, the Pivot in her hand, and a promise to keep—to the spirits, to her family, to herself.
She would stop Xuan Ying. She would free the balance.
And she would make sure no one else was left behind.