Bai Changming found himself unsettled these days. His innate demonic intuition, once honed razor-sharp, had grown dull through seven years of tranquil mortal existence. The bone-deep vigilance now echoed like distant wind chimes.
A pot of Longjing tea wine cooled on the desk amidst accumulating official correspondence. Both Tax Supervision and Maritime Trade offices had issued final warnings about merchant reforms in Chang'an. Unthinkable that a simple approval process should stall for half a month at the Secretariat's desk.
The chilled liquor burned his throat. His brush moved with practiced calm as he signed the documents.
"We're all chess pieces of fate. Don't waste your brilliance saving doomed games..."
"Lord Secretariat - ah, Changming - do you truly believe life's ebbs and flows are predetermined?" Xue Rong had once asked during their rare candid moment, clutching her skirt with luminous eyes.
He'd nodded, yet avoided her gaze.
Shared golden cups today, cold blades tomorrow - such was court politics. Ants shaking trees, futile resistance. That brightness in her eyes could only be naivety, a utopia destined to shatter.
Naturally, as a player in this game, he knew fate's whip would eventually find his back.
After sealing the documents, Bai extinguished the lamp and lay clothed, fingers tracing the jade hairpin by his pillow. In dreams, the pin oozed black smoke. His purification spells proved useless. The miasma coalesced into a screen showing a dry well - Luo Shuichan crouched wounded beside the dying Diting.
His heart lurched. Without verifying the vision's authenticity, he instinctively reached out.
A luminous rope materialized from his magic. "Shuichan!" he called. She looked up blindly as the ethereal cord passed through her hair. Jaw tightening, Bai sent wind blades whirling - they struck the mossy well wall beside her, scattering debris.
The sudden noise made Shuichan start. Spotting fresh marks, she produced a yellow stone inscribed with "Summoning Spirits."
Bai froze at the sight.
Complex emotions churned within him. More wind blades descended, revealing a carved fox tail beneath the moss. Shuichan scrambled to clear the debris.
In this dreamscape where his powers returned, Bai fought rising panic as the vision blurred. Shuichan stood leaning against the well, eyes vacant. Slowly, she untied her shoulder sash. Before the screen dissipated, Bai saw it - black veins crawling from her wound, consuming every inch of skin. Blood tears streaked her face as she smiled mournfully, dissolving into shadow.
Bai awoke drenched in cold sweat, the hairpin imprinted on his stiff palm. Predawn darkness enveloped the world. The characters "Summoning Spirits" burned behind his eyelids.
No need for deliberation. Within seconds, he chose "act" over "ignore."
Sword Duanxue gleamed as he slipped the pin into his sleeve. Silent as winter fog, he vanished into the endless night.
When dawn came, the steward found the study in chaos - a dozen bestiaries spread open, tea untouched. Five volumes of "Classic of Mountains and Seas" lay disordered.
Wind stirred ten thousand trees, returning leaves to roots. White mourning ribbons fluttered as Bai arrived at chenshi (7-9 AM). The air carried fading grave-earth scent and lingering beast musk.
"Found you." Duanxue's blade pierced maple leaves - five-pointed stars matching those from the dream-well.