Morning fog drifted over the barbaric camp.
Bodies of unconscious warriors lay tied in rows.
Tents smoldered lightly from last night's spiritual fire.
The air smelled of ash, sweat, and leftover ghost energy.
The undercover group stood around the largest tent where the barbaric leader was tied to a wooden post.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His veins glowed faintly purple — a sign of excessive ghost infestation.
The Empress, Emperor, Yao Qing, twins, New Man, and three ghosts formed a circle.
The leader lifted his head.
"You think you won… but the ritual has only begun."
The Emperor stepped forward.
Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
"Speak clearly," he commanded. "Who is controlling you?"
The leader laughed — a haunting, broken laugh.
"You cannot stop what is already born."
Li Shen's ghostly voice echoed beside the Empress: "He is half-possessed. His soul is corrupted."
Wei Rong cracked his knuckles. "Just let me punch him until his ghost leaves."
