The horrifying scream tore through the Lanxie Clan's peaceful courtyard, a blade of pure sound that shredded the calm like thunder cracking through silk. It had been the tranquil heart of the afternoon—yet that shriek froze every drop of blood within hearing distance.
"...Sis?" Xio's voice came out as a trembling, barely-there whisper. His heart hammered against his ribs. He'd been closest to Lànhuā, just inside the adjoining bathroom, when it happened. Wearing only the inner layer of his robe, his skin still damp from washing, goosebumps prickled violently all over his arms. He yanked on his outer robe in a frantic rush, wincing as a sharp, familiar pain flared through the bite marks on his neck and the half-healed injury on his arm. But the pain was a ghost compared to the terror.
"What's wrong with Lànhuā?" Língxi's renowned calm shattered. His royal blue eyes dimmed instantly, and even the sacred gem at his temple seemed to lose its celestial light. He spun sharply toward Kage Ou, then toward the stairs, his features twisted into a mask of pure dread. "That thing again," he hissed, the words razor-sharp beneath his breath.
Kage Ou's gaze hardened into obsidian. "What might be wrong?" he murmured, a confusing blend of professional concern and personal darkening his tone. But before he could even finish the sentence, Língxi was already gone.
In a single, impossible flash, Língxi lunged toward the upper floor—not running, but soaring, his robes snapping like banners in the wind of his own speed. His white hair whipped around him as he landed silently on the corridor railing outside Xio's room, a terrifying, argent shadow.
"Huā!" His voice echoed—firm, utterly silver, filled with a barely restrained, violent fear. Wind gathered and swirled around his hand as he drew the magnificent sword from the gem at his forehead, slashing the air in an arc of power. The door burst open.
He was ready to kill whatever dared to even brush his daughter.
Kage Ou followed instantly, his sharp, predator senses straining. Could a warrior of such skill have slipped in without me noticing? The thought burned him with professional shame. "Lànhuā! Are you alright? Xio—where are you!?" he roared, his tone cutting through the fear-thick air.
He couldn't comprehend how they could leave her alone—she was still a young, unmarried woman, delicate, pure.
"Sis! Are you alright!?" Xio stumbled out of the washroom, his chest heaving. Water still dripped from his hair. Panic had carved itself deeply into his expression.
All three men's eyes locked onto the single, trembling figure in the room.
Lànhuā sat utterly frozen on the floor. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, staring at nothing, one hand clutching her chest over the cursed mark, the other pressed to her stomach. Her breathing came in desperate, shallow gasps, her head jerking violently side to side.
"No—no, no! I didn't miss you! I hate your ugly face, your ugly hands—everything about you!"
"Lànhuā!" Língxi's voice broke the air again. "Father is here! I'll seal it—or destroy it—whatever's trying to take you!" He rushed toward her, his feet barely touching the floor.
"Sis, it's okay, it's okay…" Xio dropped to his knees beside her, clutching her shaking hand with desperate warmth. "You'll be fine. Nothing can harm you while we're here."
Kage Ou stood still as a mountain, his dark eyes scanning every single shadow—the corners, the ceiling, the floor. Usually, he was indifferent about children—but seeing Língxi in such raw, unbridled pain pierced him in a way he didn't expect. His best friend's agony echoed through him too.
Língxi barely noticed when Kage Ou snatched the blue-white dragon sword from his hand. "You—" Língxi started, his voice a frail tremble of fury and alarm.
"Keep her close," Kage Ou ordered, his eyes narrowing with icy calm. He turned to Xio, who could barely recognize him—his usual bored indifference replaced by a commanding, ferocious presence. For a fleeting, sharp moment, he looked like the father Xio had always wished he could have.
"I saw something," Kage Ou said, tightening his grip on the legendary blade. "Your blade is what I need."
Língxi's brows furrowed deeply. How could that be? He had sealed that yokai perfectly within his sword's core. It wasn't supposed to be able to escape. If Lànhuā wasn't imagining it, then... how did that curse slip free? The thought coiled like a poisonous, fatal vine.
"Uncle… what's happening to Sister?" Xio's voice trembled. But neither Kage Ou nor Língxi answered the vulnerable question.
Something ancient, something hungry, was behind this. And the realization broke Língxi's heart—because while he claimed to protect her, he hadn't seen the shadow trailing her all this time.
"None of your business, Xio. It's for the elders to handle," Kage Ou cut in sharply, the same coldness he used when punishing the boy seeping into his tone. The boy fell silent instantly, his jaw trembling, focusing every ounce of his will only on shielding Lànhuā.
The once bright, sunlit room dimmed under the immense weight of their collective fear. The air turned abruptly cold, lifeless. A shadow, thick and viscous as oil, crawled across the ceiling—hissing and chuckling. The sound was horribly twisted—half sob, half malevolent laughter.
"She's angry," Língxi muttered, his voice barely audible. "But why is she… crying?"
Xio shuddered, pulling his robe tighter around himself. His instincts screamed that both men were hiding a terrible secret. He clutched Lànhuā's hand harder. "It's… whispering something," he whispered, his eyes wide.
Língxi drew Lànhuā tightly into his arms, shielding her ears with his body. "Hush, Huā… breathe, my child."
"They came back!" she cried suddenly, her voice shaking with fresh terror. "They'll kill me! She'll kill me!"
Xio froze. They? Not one yokai… but they? His pulse hammered a frantic rhythm. The shadow slithered along the wall, not attacking—only letting Lànhuā see it, like it wanted to sadistically remind her it existed.
The air grew colder, sharper.
"Stop murmuring!" Kage Ou barked, swinging Língxi's sword violently toward the ceiling. The yokai's voice immediately broke into desperate, terrified shrieks.
"Ima dike oka kur ik jiooa ima isjo isjo inou kio nika shu inda ki na!"
The hiss carried pain, rage—and an unnerving, profound grief.
Lànhuā screamed, thrashing wildly in her father's hold. Her hair whipped across her tear-streaked face as she struggled against the unseen force that gripped her soul.
"No! No, stop—she'll kill me!"
Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs, yet the terror in her eyes only deepened. She kept repeating the same cursed words again and again—each syllable sharper, louder—until even the walls seemed to shudder with the sound. The air rippled like trembling glass; the candles flickered blue.
Kage Ou froze mid-breath, the dragon spirit in his sword stirring restlessly. Xio's heart pounded like a trapped bird as he clutched his sister's hand, but it was Língxi whose body went utterly still.
His royal-blue eyes dulled into a darker shade as the ancient language left her lips. He knew those words.
He had heard them once—long ago, in a night drenched in blood and smoke—spoken by a dying yokai that refused to rest.
His fingers trembled slightly before tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"She remembers…" he whispered, voice low enough to drown beneath Lànhuā's cries.
"That curse still remembers me."
The room groaned, the ceiling shadows twisting like living smoke. A faint laugh—a hiss, half-choked, half-sobbing—echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
And in that instant, Língxi realized something terrifying.
This wasn't just another possession.
It was a message.