The magistrate's scream ended abruptly, cut short by a sound like a thousand shattering mirrors.
Ye Qingxiao lunged for the doorway, sandalwood knife still in hand. Outside, Magistrate Liu's ornate sedan chair lay overturned in the mud, its bearers frozen mid-flight. The man himself stood rigid a dozen paces away, his feathered hat askew as he stared at the golden latticework now encasing his right hand. The corruption spread visibly up his arm, turning flesh to translucent amber.
"Back!" Ye Qingxiao grabbed A'Qing's wrist, pulling her away from the spreading phenomenon. "Don't let the light touch you."
The blind girl shook free with surprising strength. "It's not the light that kills." She pointed at the magistrate's chest—where something serpentine slithered beneath his ribs. "It's what comes after."
As if summoned by her words, the magistrate's jaw unhinged with a wet crack. His tongue lolled out, elongated and forked, dripping saliva that sizzled where it struck the ground. His scream this time wasn't human—a high-pitched keening that shattered nearby windows.
Ye Qingxiao's knife hand trembled. The Taiyi Sword Treasury in his mind pulsed again, projecting strange knowledge:
Dragonbone Parasite - Stage Two ManifestationWeakness: Seventh Vertebra
Before he could act, the bronze fragment shot past his ear like a vengeful hornet. It struck the transforming magistrate between the eyes—not piercing, but embedding itself halfway into his forehead. The man's convulsions ceased instantly. His new forked tongue retracted as golden filaments spread from the fragment, weaving a cocoon around his head.
A'Qing made a choked sound. "It's singing now. Can't you hear it?"
Ye Qingxiao heard nothing but the hammering of his own heart. Then the cocooned magistrate spoke—except the voice emerged from the bronze fragment itself, toneless and metallic:
"Subject contaminated. Containment protocol initiated."
The voice paused, then added with eerie specificity:
"Greetings, Swordbearer. This unit recognizes Taiyi authorization."
Eighteen Hours Earlier: The Ruined Sect
Captain Yue adjusted her horned helmet as she picked through the smoldering ruins. Her second sight showed what the mortal scouts missed—the patterns in the destruction.
This wasn't random slaughter.
Every corpse lay at the intersection of invisible lines, their spilled blood forming nodes in a vast geometric design. The charred central plaza resembled nothing so much as a sword tip pressed into wax. And the energy residue...
She knelt, brushing fingers over a patch of oddly glazed earth. Her dao swords vibrated in their scabbards.
"Captain!" A scout called from the collapsed gatehouse. "Found survivors!"
The "survivors" turned out to be three ice-encased figures—imperial spies planted in the sect months ago. Their frozen faces were twisted in identical expressions of terror. Captain Yue's breath fogged as she approached, her second sight revealing the truth:
Each corpse's shadow moved independently of the body, forming sword shapes that pointed unerringly northeast.
Toward the river.
Toward Fisherman's Bend.
Her hand went to the amulet hidden beneath her armor—a sliver of black stone given by her clan's elder. It burned against her skin now, confirming her suspicions.
Something had awakened.
And her family's three-generation debt would finally be repaid.
Present: The Fishing Hut
The cocooned magistrate's head tilted at an unnatural angle. "Query: Does Swordbearer wish to access contamination records?"
Ye Qingxiao edged backward. "What are you?"
"This unit is Taiyi Seal Number Seven, currently operating at twelve percent capacity." The voice took on a reproachful tone. "Swordbearer's foundational knowledge appears deficient. Suggested remedial study: 'Essentials of Abyssal Containment, Chapter Three—Parasitic Entities and Their Eradication.'"
A'Qing suddenly gasped. "The soldiers—look!"
Ye Qingxiao turned to see the six frozen warriors stirring. Their metallic lace coverings cracked like eggshells, revealing...nothing. No flesh, no bone—just hollow cavities where bodies should be, each containing a single writhing shadow shaped like a winged serpent.
The bronze fragment's voice turned urgent. "Alert: Stage Three metamorphosis imminent. Recommend immediate neutralization."
Ye Qingxiao's grip tightened on the knife. "How?"
"Swordbearer currently lacks sufficient cultivation. Alternate solution available: Activate emergency resonance with primary repository."
Before Ye Qingxiao could ask what that meant, the fragment emitted a pulse of golden light. The response came instantly—a distant but unmistakable boom from the direction of the ruined sect, followed by a sword beam that split the clouds.
A'Qing clutched her ears. "It's too loud! Make it stop!"
Ye Qingxiao felt it too—a vibration in his bones, a calligraphy brush painting fire along his meridians. The sandalwood knife in his hand grew hot, its grain patterns rearranging into miniature sword forms.
The hollow soldiers convulsed in unison. Their shadow-serpents thrashed, emitting ultrasonic shrieks that shattered every clay pot in the hut. Then, as one, they turned toward the distant sword light and moved.
Not ran. Not flew. Simply slid through space like ink bleeding across paper, their forms elongating unnaturally as they streaked toward the mountain.
The bronze fragment detached from the magistrate's forehead with a wet pop. "Pursuit advised. Parasites will attempt to warn their progenitor."
Ye Qingxiao stared at the knife, then at A'Qing's quicksilver eyes. "Can you track them without looking?"
She bared her teeth in something between grin and grimace. "I don't need to track. I can taste their path—like rotten mackerel left in the sun."
The fisherman chose that moment to regain his voice. "Demons! All of you!" He made a frantic warding sign. "Take your cursed battles far from my home!"
Ye Qingxiao hesitated only a moment before bowing deeply. "Your daughter saved my life. To repay this debt..." He pressed the now-transformed sandalwood knife into the man's calloused hands. "This will protect you better than I can."
The fisherman recoiled—then froze as the knife's blade shimmered, revealing seven star-shaped pores along its spine. A'Qing touched her father's arm.
"Keep it near the hearth," she whispered. "Its song will scare away the night things."
Then she turned and strode after the vanished soldiers without looking back.
Ye Qingxiao hurried to catch up. "You're coming?"
A'Qing's silver eyes reflected the distant sword glow like twin moons. "That thing in your head and those parasites in their chests—they're singing the same song now. Just in different verses." She tilted her head. "Besides, someone needs to remind you to breathe when the dragon wakes."
The bronze fragment zipped ahead impatiently. "Expedition pace must increase. Progenitor awareness likelihood now at sixty-three percent and rising."
As they climbed toward the ruined sect, Ye Qingxiao's chest brand burned hotter with each step. The Taiyi Sword Treasury unfolded another scroll of knowledge in his mind:
Third Realm: Severing the Dragon's Sinew
He didn't know whether to dread or yearn for what came next.