The Secret Technique of the Phantom Demon
Underworld.
"Damn you, thief!"
The whole dimension trembled with Chthon's furious roar.
It was no wonder he was enraged.
He had unleashed the Darkhold to strike back at his foe, yet not only had his assault been broken, but even a fragment of his own consciousness had been destroyed in the clash. That backlash had damaged his very essence.
Worse, his connection to the Darkhold—the grimoire forged from his own power—had been severed.
For half an hour, the underworld quaked with his fury. But when the echoes finally faded, it wasn't calmness that stilled him. No, the pull gnawing at his essence had doubled.
The energy he consumed from the abyss could no longer replenish him at the pace his enemy drained him.
If this continued, he would be stripped bare—devoured by a rival greater than himself.
During their confrontation, the Darkhold—wielded with only a portion of his consciousness—had been handled as if it were a child's toy. Not even he could have destroyed it so cleanly.
That could only mean one thing.
His opponent's strength far outstripped his own.
To attack directly would be suicide. Only an equal could stand against that kind of power.
For now, he had no choice but to plunder the underworld's energy with ravenous abandon.
Even if the deficit grew, it might keep him alive for months. He could only pray his foe would relent before he was consumed entirely.
---
When Xu Mo woke, he found himself in the backseat of a car.
"You're awake!"
The young woman he had rescued looked at him with relief.
Glancing around, Xu Mo realized only the two of them were inside.
"Where's Hill?"
"Over there!"
She pointed, and Xu Mo followed her gaze. Outside, the bar they had just escaped was swarmed by police cars. Maria Hill was speaking to the officer in charge.
The girl studied Xu Mo with a mixture of awe and curiosity. After all, he had quite literally saved her life.
Through her introduction, Xu Mo learned her name—Jemma Simmons.
She was from New York, pursuing a PhD in chemical physics at the State University of New York. A tourist in this small town, she had stumbled into a nightmare.
"Can I contact you later?" Simmons asked, her voice hesitant but hopeful.
Seeing her earnest expression, Xu Mo couldn't bring himself to refuse. He nodded, and they exchanged numbers.
Just then, Hill slid into the driver's seat.
"Looks like we'll only need two rooms tonight," she quipped.
Xu Mo ignored the teasing. "What about the ones who escaped?"
Hill shook her head. "For now, there's no clean solution. We'll never wipe out every vampire. But after tonight, they'll think twice before showing their faces."
Xu Mo nodded grimly. Vampires were like a plague—leave a few survivors, and they would spread again.
Still, he recalled that the Darkhold contained a spell that could annihilate them all at once. After all, their origin was tied to Chthon's corruption. That was why Agatha Harkness could command them.
But the Darkhold was gone—claimed by the Sanctum's wards and sealed in the care of the Star Tower.
If he had it, he could exterminate every last vampire and earn immense rewards.
He opened the system's mall interface and checked the Darkhold's price.
Fifty million points.
Impossible to gather anytime soon.
Hill pulled the car up to their hotel, producing a confidentiality agreement for Simmons.
"Sign this. You can't tell anyone what happened tonight."
Simmons accepted the papers, but instead of signing immediately, she asked, "What organization do you work for? And… do you take recruits? Could I join?"
Hill blinked, caught off guard. "You want to join us?"
"Yes," Simmons said quickly. "I'll finish my PhD in two months!"
Hill considered this. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't just field agents—they needed researchers, analysts, scientists. A mind like Simmons' was a rare resource.
Finally, she nodded. "Think about it carefully. If you're serious, come to headquarters with me tomorrow."
"Really?!" Simmons glanced at Xu Mo with excitement before smacking her head against the car roof in her enthusiasm.
---
Brooklyn, New York.
The White Queen, Emma Frost, lounged on a chair by the tall windows, basking in the quiet.
"It seems you've been living comfortably," Xu Mo remarked as he stepped inside.
Emma turned lazily to face him. "True. Apart from the boredom, I can't complain."
"Believe me," he said with a smirk, "soon you'll miss this peace."
"So I'll be useful again, will I?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Absolutely," he replied, stepping closer. "But first, we need to strengthen your power."
With a flick of his wrist, several pages materialized in his hand. He handed them to her.
On them were written the cultivation methods of a long-forgotten mystical lineage—The Phantom Demon Sect. Techniques to hone spiritual power, manipulate illusions, and bind souls.
The core was the Soul Seal, the foundation of the illusionist's art. With it, any intelligent being could be enslaved.
Xu Mo believed Emma's telepathy and psionic gifts made her uniquely suited for these teachings.
Emma took the pages skeptically—only to grow wide-eyed as she read further.
Her casual expression hardened into focus. Her breath quickened. A flush rose to her cheeks.
"My god… this is extraordinary. Is this real?" she whispered.
Xu Mo smirked. "Test it yourself. You'll see I wouldn't waste time with fraud."
Emma's lips curved into a sly grin as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Darling," she whispered, her voice dripping with heat, "some of this is… difficult to grasp. Perhaps we should discuss it somewhere more private?"
Xu Mo glanced at the window and chuckled. "I think right here will do just fine."