The air was thick with tension.
The scavengers crept forward, their expressions twisted with greed. Their eyes flickered between Zhang, Yun, and Linglong—wounded but standing, exhausted but breathing.
Weak.
That's what they saw.
And weaklings were easy to kill.
One of them, a burly man with a scar running down his jaw, chuckled.
"You three had a good run."
Another sneered. "Drop your weapons, and maybe we'll make it painless."
No answer.
Zhang's grip on his sword didn't waver. Yun's fingers curled around the handle of her whip, her breathing steady. Linglong wiped the blood from her lips, her injured arm twitching slightly.
The scavengers saw hesitation.
What they didn't see was the trap tightening around them.
A wiry man, dressed in ragged robes, scoffed. "Tch. Look at them—too scared to speak. Just kill 'em already—"
Then it began.
Boom.
The earth beneath them shifted.
Dark talismans, long-buried beneath the dirt, ignited—their intricate seals flaring to life with an eerie, pulsating glow.
The scavengers stumbled.
Something was wrong.
An invisible force wrapped around their limbs. Their bodies grew heavy, as if unseen hands were dragging them into the earth.
"What—?"
A sickening crack split the air.
One man's legs buckled instantly. He collapsed, his eyes wild with panic.
Another let out a strangled gasp, his arms yanked backward by an unseen force, his joints twisting unnaturally.
"T-this isn't—this isn't normal!" someone shrieked.
Zhang stepped forward. His blade, still slick with demon's blood, gleamed under the dim light. His expression was calm. Unshaken.
"You shouldn't have hesitated."
Yun snapped her whip, the sharp crack echoing through the battlefield.
"You thought we were the prey?"
She lashed out, the whip coiling around a scavenger's throat. His eyes bulged—then she yanked.
Crack.
His body dropped lifelessly.
Linglong moved next.
Her sword flickered—one precise slash.
A scream. A severed limb. Blood spilling onto the dirt.
The others froze.
Zhang spoke again, his voice cold.
"Make your choice."
Die here… or be useful to me.
The scavengers—those still barely standing—hesitated.
They looked at each other. At the bodies of their fallen. At the trap they never saw coming.
Linglong frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Zhang, what do you mean 'useful'? Don't tell me your soul can handle enslaving all of them?"
Her tone wasn't just surprised—it was suspicious.
Even Yun's expression flickered with unease.
Zhang didn't reply.
His gaze was locked north.
Then—
A woman, standing in the distance, watched with interest.
She was surrounded by her followers, a sea of figures cloaked in shadows. Unlike the scavengers, she had made no move to fight or flee.
Instead, she observed.
Her voice was smooth, almost amused. "Subduing them instead of killing them outright? What exactly are you planning, Zhang?"
Her followers remained silent, awaiting her command.
But before Zhang could answer—
The first scream tore through the battlefield.
It wasn't from Yun.
Not from Linglong.
Not even from the scavengers.
It came from behind them.
The air turned frigid.
A heavy, suffocating chill spread across the field, creeping into the bones of those still breathing.
Then—the whispers started.
Low. Incomprehensible.
Like countless voices speaking from a place that no longer belonged to the living.
"…who… calls… us… back?"
A scavenger—one still caught in the array—let out a bloodcurdling scream.
At first, nothing seemed wrong.
Then Yun saw it.
A thin, clawed hand gripping the man's ankle.
It wasn't attached to a body.
It simply materialized from the darkness.
The man thrashed violently. "G-get it off me! Get it off—"
Another set of hands latched onto him.
Then another.
And another.
They poured from the shadows—distorted, broken figures, their features twisted by pain, hunger, and madness. Not an army—just a horde.
Mindless. Starving.
The scavenger let out one final, shrill scream.
Then—he was gone.
A beat of silence.
Then another scream.
Then another.
A scavenger tried to run, but the moment he turned, a ghost latched onto his back.
He stumbled forward, gasping—then froze.
His body convulsed violently.
Then, as if his strings had been cut—he collapsed.
The ghost crawled out of his skin and turned to the next target.
The scavengers panicked.
Some tried to fight. Useless. Their blades passed through the ghosts, slicing air but doing nothing.
One scavenger collapsed to his knees, his body shaking. "N-no… No! This wasn't supposed to—! AAAARGH!"
Cold fingers wrapped around his face.
His eyes sank into black pits.
Then—he, too, was gone.
The battlefield was no longer a place for the living.
Yun and Linglong tensed.
Even Zhang's grip on his sword tightened slightly.
These weren't just spirits.
They were hungry.
Linglong exhaled sharply, stepping toward Zhang. Her voice was lower now. Serious.
"…Tell me you knew about this."
Zhang didn't answer.
He just watched.
And, from a distance, the woman smiled.