The journey to Linyue City was a tense, silent affair. They traveled in a fine, enclosed carriage, a stark contrast to the bumpy roads of the countryside. The two officials, who introduced themselves as Inspector Wei and his aide, sat opposite them, their faces pale and their bodies rigid. They were clearly regretting their plan.
Di Jun sat beside Hua Qian, a still, menacing presence. He did not speak. He did not look out the window. He simply stared at Inspector Wei, his unblinking, dual-colored gaze a form of torture in itself. Hua Qian could feel his cold fury simmering just beneath the surface, a constant, low hum in the back of her mind. He was enjoying their fear.
Hua Qian, for her part, played the part of the quiet, dutiful healer. She kept her eyes down, her hands folded in her lap. But her mind was racing. This was not a simple trap set by a local magistrate. The officials' fear, their specific mention of celestial soldiers—it all pointed to something bigger. Someone was pulling their strings.
As the carriage rolled through the grand gates of Linyue City, Hua Qian couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. It was a world away from her small village. The streets were paved with clean, grey stone, the buildings were tall and elegant, and the people were dressed in fine silks. It was a city of wealth and culture.
But as they got deeper into the city, she saw the signs of sickness. A heavy sadness hung over the bustling streets, a pall that could not be hidden by the bright banners and colorful shop fronts. People moved with a slow, listless gait. Their eyes were vacant, their faces pale. It was a plague of the spirit, just as the officials had said.
They were taken not to an infirmary, but to the city's grand guest house, a sprawling estate with beautiful gardens and ornate, carved woodwork. It was a prison, but a very comfortable one.
"The Magistrate will see you in the morning," Inspector Wei said, bowing stiffly. "Meals will be provided. Please, do not leave the estate. For your own safety."
He and his aide practically fled, leaving them alone in the grand, silent hall.
As soon as they were gone, Di Jun's cold demeanor dropped. He began to move through the house, his steps silent, his senses on high alert. He ran his long fingers along the furniture, the walls, the floor.
"It is a cage," he said, his voice low. "The entire estate is warded. Not with magic, but with something else. A resonance. It is designed to contain a being of great power."
"Me?" Hua Qian asked, touching her chest.
"You," he said, turning to look at her. "Your Pure Yang energy is a beacon. They are not just trapping me. They are trapping you."
He walked to the window, looking out at the carefully manicured garden. "This plague… it is not natural."
"I know," Hua Qian said, coming to stand beside him. "I can feel it. It is like a… dampness in the air. A sadness that has no source."
"It is a harvesting," Di Jun said, his voice grim. "Someone is siphoning the life force, the Yang energy, from the people of this city. It is a slow, deliberate feeding."
"Who would do such a thing?" she whispered.
"Someone who needs a great deal of energy," he said, turning his gaze to her. "Someone who is preparing for a ritual."
The implication hung in the air. They needed her. They had brought her to the city to use her as a final, powerful ingredient.
That night, they were served a lavish meal, but they ate none of it. Di Jun inspected every dish, every cup of water. "Poisoned," he said simply. "Not to kill, but to weaken. To make you more compliant."
They slept in separate rooms, but Hua Qian did not sleep. She sat by her window, feeling the city's slow, sad death. She could feel the individual threads of life, thousands of them, all flickering, growing dimmer. And through the bond, she could feel Di Jun's restless energy, a predator waiting in the dark.
Around midnight, she felt a sharp pull from him. A summons.
She found him in the central courtyard, under the light of a full moon. He was standing perfectly still, his head tilted, as if listening to something.
"They are beginning," he whispered.
"Beginning what?"
"The harvest," he said, pointing to the far side of the city. In the distance, rising from behind the tallest buildings, was a faint, pulsating column of dark, grey energy. It was almost invisible, but to her senses, now so attuned to the flow of energy, it was a beacon of despair.
As she watched, the column of energy grew stronger, and she felt a wave of lethargy wash over her. It was a powerful, pulling sadness, a voice in her mind that whispered for her to give up, to let go, to sleep and never wake up.
She stumbled, her hand flying to her head.
Di Jun was at her side in an instant, his cold hand on her arm, steadying her. "Do not listen to it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the fog in her mind. "It is a siren's call. Focus on me."
She looked up at him, at his strange, beautiful eyes. She focused on the cold, sharp feel of his hand on her skin, on the low, steady hum of his power. The siren's call receded, just a little.
"We have to stop them," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury.
"We cannot," he said, his gaze locked on the distant pillar of energy. "Not yet. We do not know who is behind this, or what the ritual is. To rush in now would be suicide. We must wait."
"Wait for what?" she cried. "For them to finish? For the entire city to die?"
He turned to her, his expression unreadable. "For them to make their mistake," he said. "Every ritual has a focal point. A heart. And when they reveal it, I will tear it out."
He looked back at the pulsating energy, his golden eye glowing with a terrifying, predatory light. "They wanted to bring a monster into their city. They should have been more careful which one they chose."