A sudden rap at the clinic door drew Shi Yang's attention. He raised an eyebrow and moved toward it. Outside, the rain drummed steadily on the wooden eaves. Through the dim light, a hunched figure in a tattered cloak leaned against the doorway, shivering.
"Mind if I wait out the rain inside?" the stranger asked, voice low and hesitant.
Shi Yang's hand hovered over the door handle. He was about to wave them away—there was no room for unwanted company tonight—when Yoke, still curled in Xiu Mei's arms moments ago, suddenly rose. The cub's fur bristled, tiny teeth glinting as it let out a low growl.
Shi Yang froze, heart quickening. Years of inherited experience had sharpened his senses; he could feel when something was off, and now every instinct screamed danger. Calmly, he drew a dagger from his belt. The rain-slicked figure stepped forward as if expecting leniency. Shi Yang swung the door open, grabbed the beggar by the neck, and yanked them inside, pressing the cold steel of his blade to their throat.
"Who sent you?" His voice was low, lethal, carrying the weight of imminent death.
The man stammered, gagging against Shi Yang's iron grip. "I-I'm… alone! No one sent me! I… I swear!"
Shi Yang's eyes narrowed, a flash of icy judgment. In a swift motion, he slit the man's throat. The life drained from the figure in a heartbeat, blood spattering faintly across the floorboards.
Before the body even hit the ground, Shi Yang's dagger spun from his hand in a precise arc, embedding itself into the far wall with a sharp thunk. Within seconds, the area began to twist and change.
A soft clap echoed from the shadows. Shi Yang's gaze snapped toward it. A woman dressed entirely in black had appeared in the corner of the clinic, her face serene yet impossibly composed.
"You're becoming more aware of your surroundings," the woman in black said, eyes glinting. Shi Yang noted the trickle of blood along her chest where his dagger had pierced. It hadn't gone deep, but it was clean. With a graceful motion, she plucked it free and let the blade clatter harmlessly to the floor.
Before she could speak further, Xiu Mei and Han Jie struck in unison.
Han Jie's fingers twisted into a seal, arcs of blue lightning crawling up his arms until his whole frame shimmered like a storm. His voice rang out like a whip.
"Thunder Strike!"
KRA-KA-BOOOOM!
A searing bolt of lightning tore through the room.
The woman only smiled, raising one of her hairpins. The thin golden rod gleamed, intercepting the strike. With a flick, she hurled it forward—splitting Han Jie's thunderbolt into three furious streams that scorched across the walls, blasting gouges into the wood.
Xiu Mei was already in motion. From the swirl of her qi, a swordfish of condensed Water Dao formed, its blade-sharp snout aimed straight for the woman's chest.
The assassin's second pin flashed. Steel met liquid force in a rapid exchange of strikes. Left, right, up, down—no matter the angle, the hairpin parried each thrust with uncanny precision.
The swordfish shimmered, then split in two, striking from opposite sides. For the first time, her wrist slowed—
KRA-KA-BOOOOM!
Another bolt of lightning screamed across the clinic. The assassin turned at the last instant, slipping aside with a dancer's grace, her hairpins spinning between her fingers in a mocking twirl.
"If you want to hurt me, you'll have to do better th—"
Her words cut short. A searing pain flared in her chest.
She glanced down—her wound, where Shi Yang's dagger had pierced earlier, was darkening. The skin around it corroded, taking on a bronzed, rotting hue that spread in ugly blotches.
Rust? Her eyes narrowed. How can that be?
Shi Yang's hands were in a strange seal, his gaze cold and merciless.
The woman chuckled, gritting her teeth. Flames kindled within her blood, burning bright as she refined her qi inward. Fire Dao surged, her veins igniting like molten iron as she burned away the creeping corrosion.
"Well now," she hissed, smirking despite the pain, "we're getting somewhere."
Before she could steady herself, a massive shadow loomed. A hammer, glowing with twenty circling talismans, crashed down toward her.
Xiu Mei's hands gripped the weapon tightly, her expression silent, merciless. The hammer's edges gleamed with Dao-light, its fall like the judgment of heaven itself.
The assassin spun to move—but red threads snapped taut around her body, binding her limbs like a puppet on strings.
A harsh caw split the air. A vulture perched on Shi Yang's shoulder, its eyes burning with unnatural light. Threads of crimson stretched from its wings, tightening around the intruder.
"You made a mistake stepping into my business uninvited," Shi Yang said coldly, his grip firm on the crimson cords. His voice deepened, echoing like a curse.
"Within my spirit sea, thunder roars and lightning strikes. The wind howls like a wolf unchained. Clouds veil the night, swallowing sun and moon alike. No matter the hour—day or night, tribulation or storm…"
His gaze hardened.
"All that stands shall rust. All that resists shall corrode. Nothing escapes the rot of time."
The rust-spreading curse surged along the blood-threads, coating her in a suffocating, metallic force.
At that instant, Xiu Mei's hammer fell.
BOOOOOOM!
The impact tore the woman's upper half clean off, blasting it through the doors and into the street beyond. Her lower half remained, twitching, until Xiu Mei twisted her wrist and brought the hammer down again. Flesh and bone collapsed into pulp beneath the strike, the floor trembling from the blow.
Silence fell.
Then, slow footsteps approached.
From the doorway, the assassin stepped back inside—whole, uninjured, not even a scratch marring her skin. Her lips curved into a smile, calm and taunting.
"Not bad," she said softly, brushing dust from her sleeve as though nothing had happened. "But you'll need far more than that to kill me."
Little Yoke growled, its wings twitching before it opened its beak and spat out a violent gust of wind.
Shi Yang pulled a mirror from the folds of his hanfu. Its reflection warped, turning crimson as his seal flashed.
"Bursting River Stream!!!"
"Thunder Strikes!!!"
"ROOOOAR!!!"
Three forces collided. Lightning fused with blood, blood bound itself to the torrent of wind, and impossibly, the elements found a vicious synergy. Shi Yang's blood technique amplified the storm, a crimson river bursting forward, its roar shaking the chamber as it tore apart stone tiles and cracked the ceiling beams. The gale carried sparks of thunder that split and struck, while the blood-colored torrent churned like a flood of rusted blades.
The black-clad woman's hairpins screamed as they deflected, sparks showering from the clash. Her sleeves tore at the edges, though her smile never wavered.
Xiu Mei leapt forward, hammer in both hands, twisting her wrists in one smooth motion. Dao light wrapped around the weapon's head, a crushing glow that carried weight like a mountain. She brought it down in an arc meant to shatter bone. At the same time, her swordfish of flowing water surged again, striking like a blade of the sea aimed straight for the woman's chest.
The enemy's eyes narrowed. For the first time, her air shifted from playfulness to cold intent. Her fingers traced an unseen pattern, her Dao igniting. A wave of invisible pressure spread outward, and suddenly the world locked.
Shi Yang felt it immediately—his limbs seized, his breath froze in his lungs, even his spirit trembled. Xiu Mei's hammer halted mid-swing, the swordfish froze mid-thrust, Han Jie's thunder dispersed into a suspended crackle that refused to move. The woman's Dao shackled them, freezing body, spirit, and even the flow of qi as though time itself had been bound.
"Struggle all you like," she said, her hairpins floating around her in a deadly halo. "In front of my Dao, none of you move without my permission."
Her voice was calm, absolute.
But then, beneath that suffocating pressure, Shi Yang's lips moved. His spirit stirred. From the depths of his being, his mantra began again:
Within my spirit sea, thunder roars and lightning strikes. The wind howls like a wolf unchained. Clouds veil the night, swallowing sun and moon alike. No matter the time—day or night, tribulations or raging seas…
His voice shook the stillness. The crimson of his veins burned against the frozen chains, corroding them thread by thread. His body trembled, but his spirit surged free, peeling itself from his flesh.
A shadow of himself—his spirit body—stepped out, eyes alight with rust and storm.
The woman's gaze flickered. "What—?"
Shi Yang's physical body moved again, puppet-like under his command, while his spirit self circled with predatory focus. Two presences, one man—one fighting with raw flesh and blood, the other with unchained spirit.
"Against me," Shi Yang said, both voices overlapping in eerie unison, "you'll have to fight twice."