Thunder rumbled, and lightning split the night sky, illuminating the mottled walls and the half-collapsed idol within the dilapidated temple. The incense offerings had long since ceased for this unknown deity, leaving only half of a once merciful smile, which appeared both eerie and desolate under the lightning's glare.
Yu Jiuyou, soaked to the bone, huddled in a dark corner, clutching the bread he had stolen from a market stall that morning. Rainwater dripped from his wet hair onto his collar. He was drenched, like something pulled from the water. Strands of his ink-black hair clung to his temples, and droplets traced paths down the ends, slipping under his collar and making him shiver. He lifted a hand to wipe his face, but his sleeve was torn, reduced to a ragged half-length flap. His frantic wiping only smeared the grime on his face further.
"Hiss—" His fingertip accidentally scraped over a wound on his arm, the sharp pain drawing a sharp gasp. His eyes instantly reddened. The bread in his hand was already crushed out of shape, yet he held it like a precious treasure. He extended his tongue, licked the corner of his mouth, and began nibbling in small bites. Breadcrumbs fell onto his filthy lapel.
Another thunderclap exploded, louder than before, shaking the broken bowl on the offering table and making it clatter. Several blindingly white bolts of lightning followed, "whooshing" through the sky and illuminating the entire temple, starkly revealing the webs of dust-covered cobwebs clinging to the walls.
Just then, a "tap, tap" sound came from outside the courtyard gate. Yu Jiuyou flinched in fright.
It wasn't the rain. It was footsteps, splashing through the puddles, heavy and muffled, steadily approaching.
Panicking, he stuffed the half-eaten bread back into his tunic. The cloth was too thin, clearly outlining the square shape of the bread against his chest. Like a startled cat, Yu Jiuyou darted under the offering table. He held his breath, peering out through a tear in the tablecloth, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"Creak—"
The old wooden door was pushed open from the outside. The rust-scraped hinges produced a sound unnervingly clear in the thunderous rain.
He could feel a powerful surge of spiritual energy. Instinctively, he scrambled backward, nearly stumbling to the ground.
A pair of boots, muddied and wet, stepped inside. Rainwater dripped from them onto the dust-covered floor.
There was a "rustle" as the oilpaper umbrella was closed. The newcomer gave it a gentle shake to dislodge the water. Yu Jiuyou caught a glimpse of a snow-white sleeve cuff, adorned with exquisitely embroidered patterns.
Xuan Qing closed the oilpaper umbrella and stood at the temple entrance, not immediately stepping further inside. Rain dripped from his hair, forming a small puddle on the stone floor. He frowned slightly, his sharp senses detecting the faint trace of demonic aura within the temple. As the youngest cultivator of the Xuan Sect, he never let slip any demon that might threaten the mortal world.
"Come out," Xuan Qing's voice was cold as ice. His slender fingers were already poised, holding a spell talisman. "I know you're in there." He added, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "A barrier surrounds this place. You cannot escape."