Blood led the way.
A trail of glistening, unnervingly fresh crimson began at the threshold of the Fulong Pawnshop, snaking eastward like a dark red ribbon under the eerie moonlight.
Cai Qingluan gripped her reverse-edged Miao Dao, following the path, a knot of unease tightening in her chest with every step. Hong Jiu and Zhang Feidie followed close behind, the silence of the deserted streets broken only by their echoing footsteps.
"Strange... why isn't this blood drying?" Zhang Feidie whispered, crouching to examine a vivid smear. A healer's instinct screamed that something was wrong—the blood showed no signs of coagulation, looking as if it had been spilled only moments ago.
Hong Jiu gestured, pointing first to his own scarred throat, then indicating the path ahead.
"You're saying this blood... it's connected to your throat injury?" Cai Qingluan asked.
He shook his head, his fingers forming a more complex series of signs.
"'Guardian's blood... will guide us to the truth?'" Cai Qingluan translated uncertainly.
Hong Jiu nodded, a flicker of deep sorrow crossing his eyes. He pulled down his scarf again, revealing the dark scar. Under the moonlight, the unnatural blackness of the scar seemed to glow faintly, mirroring the luminescence of the blood trail on the ground.
"What is going on?" Zhang Feidie breathed, bewildered. "Why was Meng Xuanye headless? Where did this blood even come from?"
Cai Qingluan didn't answer, her focus fixed solely on the path ahead. The trail led them through winding alleys, finally ending before a dilapidated structure on the eastern edge of town: an ancient, abandoned opera stage.
Centuries old, supposedly built during the Ming Dynasty, the stage was now a wreck. Its stone base crumbled, the wooden superstructure above mostly rotted away, leaving only a few thick, stubborn pillars standing like skeletal sentinels of time.
The blood trail led directly to the center of the stage... and stopped dead.
"Is this the end?" Zhang Feidie asked, confused.
Cai Qingluan shook her head. Her sharp eyes had already spotted a faint, almost invisible seam in the floorboards, tracing a perfect circle. Using the tip of her Miao Dao, she gently pried at the edge. With a low groan, a section of the floor tilted upwards, revealing a dark, gaping opening.
"A hidden passage," Cai Qingluan stated, producing a small oil lamp and lighting it. The flickering flame illuminated a steep flight of stone steps descending into the earth.
"I'll go first." Without waiting for a response, she stepped into the opening.
The air within was cold and damp, thick with a peculiar smell – a blend of medicinal herbs and decaying wood. The stone steps wound downwards for what felt like thirty feet before opening into a wide subterranean chamber.
Cai Qingluan raised the lamp, and the light revealed a scene ripped from a nightmare.
Eighteen corpses stood arranged in neat rows in the center of the stone room. Each was dressed in ancient opera costumes, their faces hidden behind grotesque, varied Nuo masks. Some masks depicted terrifying demons, others faces etched with profound sorrow, each carved with chillingly lifelike detail. But the most shocking element was the small, emerald-green jade token embedded in each corpse's forehead, inscribed with complex, glowing runes.
"Nuo masks... corpses..." Zhang Feidie gasped, stumbling back a step instinctively.
Hong Jiu reacted even more violently. The moment he saw the masked dead, he made a rapid, intricate warding gesture. Simultaneously, the black scar on his throat seemed to weep, thick droplets of dark liquid oozing out and splattering onto the stone floor, merging with the blood trail that had led them here.
"These bodies... they're decades old, at least," Cai Qingluan observed grimly, her gaze sweeping over the unnervingly well-preserved figures. "But kept like this... this isn't natural."
Zhang Feidie, the healer, quickly noticed more. "They've been treated with something... like the 'thousand-year preservation' techniques of antiquity. And..." She pointed towards the nearest corpse. "Look at their hands."
Cai Qingluan and Hong Jiu moved closer. Each corpse's ten fingers were held in a strange, specific posture, as if frozen mid-casting of some arcane spell or mudra.
"Is this... a pose from Nuo opera?" Cai Qingluan guessed.
Hong Jiu suddenly became agitated, his hands flying through a rapid series of signs. He pointed at his own throat, then gestured emphatically at the masked corpses.
"You're saying... these people... they were all Stele Guardians?" Cai Qingluan asked, stunned.
Hong Jiu nodded, raw grief contorting his features.
"Stele Guardians... the ones who guard the Poison Suppressing Stele?" Zhang Feidie murmured. "Then these jade tokens..."
She carefully reached out and plucked one of the jade tokens from a corpse's forehead. The runes carved into it were incredibly fine, pulsing with a faint light.
"These symbols... I've seen similar ones on the Miasma Mother Diagram," she said, frowning. "But I don't understand their meaning."
Cai Qingluan took the token, her brow furrowed. "These aren't ordinary runes. It's an ancient cipher. My grandmother's Miao Script Translation mentioned codes like this... they require a specific key to decipher."
Just then, Hong Jiu let out another of his strange, metallic hisses, pointing towards a shadowed corner of the chamber. There, on a small stone pedestal, lay a tattered, ancient-looking booklet.
The three approached cautiously. It was a logbook, filled cover-to-cover with densely packed names and dates. The earliest entries dated back to the Chongzhen era of the late Ming Dynasty.
"This is... a register of the Stele Guardians?" Cai Qingluan murmured, flipping through the brittle pages. Suddenly, she froze, her face paling dramatically. "Hong Jiu... look at this name."
He leaned closer. Agony flashed in his eyes as he read the entry: "Hong Shouchéng. Inducted Republic Year 15. Died in service, Republic Year 23."
"This is your..."
Hong Jiu nodded, making the sign for "Father."
"Your father was also a Guardian... and he died in service?" Zhang Feidie asked softly.
Hong Jiu nodded again, his eyes brimming with sorrow. He touched his own throat, then made a cutting motion.
"Your throat injury... it's part of the Guardian's duty?" Cai Qingluan pressed.
He didn't answer directly, instead pulling a small, flat piece of stone from his tunic. Carved onto it were several characters: "Refinery Cave Password."
"The Refinery Cave? You mean the abandoned one on River Heart Island?" Zhang Feidie asked.
Hong Jiu nodded, pointed at the eighteen masked corpses, then back at the stone slip, and finally made the sign for "unlock" or "reveal."
"You're saying the secret of these Nuo corpses... is connected to the Refinery Cave?" Cai Qingluan deduced. "We need to go there to find answers?"
Hong Jiu nodded again, a flicker of grim determination in his eyes.
At that moment, Zhang Feidie cried out, clutching her left shoulder. The butterfly birthmark beneath her clothes had begun to glow, emitting a faint violet light visible even through the fabric.
"What's happening?" Cai Qingluan asked urgently.
"I don't know..." Zhang Feidie gasped, pain twisting her features. "Ever since I saw the Miasma Mother Diagram, this mark... it keeps changing. Now... it feels like it's responding to something."
Her gaze fell upon the masked corpses, and sudden understanding dawned. "These jade tokens... they're meant to seal the Living Gu! Each one holds a fraction of its power... and the Gu inside me... it's resonating with them!"
Hong Jiu gestured frantically. Cai Qingluan translated: "He says we must go to the Refinery Cave immediately. The key to everything is there!"
They hesitated no longer. Quickly gathering a few of the crucial jade tokens, they fled the Tomb of the Masked Dead. Emerging back onto the opera stage, they were met with a chilling sight: the purple miasma had returned, blanketing the town once more, thicker and more oppressive than before.
"We have to hurry," Cai Qingluan urged. "Before the miasma fully descends!"
The Refinery Cave was located in the center of River Heart Island, a vast network of tunnels. Legend claimed it was once an official gunpowder manufacturing site during the Ming Dynasty, later abandoned for unknown reasons.
They took a small boat, pushing through the miasma-choked river waters to the island. It was deathly silent, deserted save for a few skeletal, withered trees standing like lonely sentinels.
The cave mouth was hidden beneath a thick curtain of overgrown weeds. Hong Jiu, moving with practiced familiarity, pushed aside the vegetation, revealing a dark opening. Producing a special flint and steel, he struck a spark, lighting a prepared torch at the entrance.
The torchlight illuminated the cave's interior—a wide cavern with smooth rock walls covered in dense, intricate carvings. Symbols and text crowded every surface. Some resembled Han characters, others were completely alien, arranged in bizarre patterns—horizontally, vertically, even spiraling across the stone.
"Is this... reversed phonetic script?" Cai Qingluan murmured in astonishment, recognizing the structure of some symbols.
Hong Jiu nodded, pointed to himself, then made the sign for "carve."
"You carved all of this?" Zhang Feidie whispered, incredulous. "That must have taken..."
He didn't reply, simply leading them deeper into the cavern. The tunnel widened steadily, finally opening into a vast, circular chamber. In the exact center stood a massive stone platform, and upon it rested a colossal stele crafted from black Xuan Tie iron.
"The Poison Suppressing Stele..." Cai Qingluan breathed, recognizing the legendary artifact.
It towered nearly twenty feet high and ten feet wide, utterly black, its surface covered in the same dense script seen on the outer walls. At its very top was a carving of a chiwen dragon head, identical to the motif on Meng Xuanye's broken jade pendant.
Hong Jiu walked to the stele, dropped to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the cold stone in a gesture of profound reverence. Then he rose. The black scar on his throat split open again, thick, dark blood welling up. He leaned forward, letting the blood drip into a small indentation carved at the stele's base.
"Guard... Stele... Man's... Blood..." The strange, metallic rasp scraped from his throat. "Can... Acti...vate... Stele... Script..."
As the black blood filled the indentation, the entire stele suddenly pulsed. Lines of violet light flared across its surface, illuminating the dense text, making it sharp and clear.
Zhang Feidie stared at Hong Jiu in shock. "You... you can speak?"
He nodded painfully. "Only... Here... Before... Stele... Can... Brief...ly... Speak..." His vocal cords were clearly damaged; each word was an agonizing effort, carrying that disturbing metallic resonance.
"It's the after-effects of mercury poisoning," Zhang Feidie diagnosed instantly, her medical knowledge kicking in.
Hong Jiu nodded again, then pointed insistently at the glowing stele. "Read... Stele... Script..."
Cai Qingluan moved closer, beginning to read the illuminated text aloud: "Chongzhen Year Twelve. Tingjiang Miasma Plague erupts, devastating the land. Grand Commandant Zheng's fleet is stationed here, suffers heavy losses. Zheng Chenggong orders three artisan clans—Meng the Alchemist, Cai the Saltpeter Refiner, Zhang the Apothecary—to create an antidote. They discover the miasma originates from the 'Miasma Mother Corpse' in an ancient tomb beneath the river. Using special methods, they refine the 'Three Yuan Pill,' successfully suppressing the Miasma Mother..."
Her voice grew heavier as she continued: "To prevent the Miasma Mother's return, the Three Families swore a blood oath, becoming hereditary guardians. Meng guards the Diagram, Cai the Refinery Cave, Zhang cultivates the Spirit Vexongrass. The Hong clan is chosen as Stele Guardians, their throats sealed with Mercury Sand to ensure the secret is kept..."
"Mercury Sand Seal?" Zhang Feidie looked at Hong Jiu with horrified understanding. "That's why the Guardians can't speak?"
He nodded miserably, pointing to the lower section of the inscription.
Cai Qingluan read on: "Stele Guardians must pass the duty through their bloodline. Each generation must drink the Mercury Sand Seal upon adulthood, remaining mute for life. If the Miasma Mother shows signs of revival, the Guardian must guide the descendants of the Three Families to restart the sealing ritual. The ritual requires three components: the Saltpeter Refiner's Sulfur, the Stele Guardian's Mercury Sand, and the Living Gu's Heart Blood. Only when these three unite can the seal be reforged..."
"'Living Gu's Heart Blood'?" Zhang Feidie clutched her chest in terror. "What does that mean?"
Hong Jiu spoke again, his voice strained and harsh: "Living... Gu... Needs... Living... Host's... Heart... Blood... to... Mature..."
"So the butterfly mark inside me... it's the Living Gu's vessel?" Zhang Feidie trembled, realization dawning. "Then Meng Xuanye's real goal was..."
"To... Take... Your... Heart... Blood..." Hong Jiu confirmed grimly. "But... He... Was... Con...trolled... By... Miasma... Mother..."
Cai Qingluan finally understood. "So Meng Xuanye didn't want to seal the Miasma Mother, he wanted to release her! The Headless Feast... it was all a trap to lure us!"
Hong Jiu nodded, pointing to the very last line of the inscription.
Cai Qingluan read: "Beware the Miasma Mother's deceit. She can control minds, forcing betrayal of the blood oath. If any of the Three Families fall under her control, their heads will detach on their own, becoming puppets of the Miasma Mother..."
"That explains Meng Xuanye!" Zhang Feidie exclaimed. "Headless, no blood... he was already completely under her control!"
Just then, an eerie, high-pitched flute melody drifted from the cave entrance, followed by the heavy, rhythmic tread of many feet. A large group was approaching.
"No!" Cai Qingluan drew her Miao Dao instinctively. "Someone's coming!"
Hong Jiu's expression turned desperate. He pointed towards a narrow side passage branching off from the main chamber, urging them to follow.
They scrambled through the passage, emerging into a small, hidden alcove. In its center stood another stone pedestal, this one holding a small bronze box. Hong Jiu opened it, revealing a complete jade pendant—a perfect chiwen shape, identical to the broken piece Meng Xuanye had held.
"This... this is the other half?" Cai Qingluan asked, astonished.
Hong Jiu nodded, struggling to speak: "Three... Pieces... Unite... To... Open... Alchemy... Furnace..."
"Three pieces?" Zhang Feidie frowned. "Where's the third one?"
Hong Jiu pointed directly at his own throat, then mimed swallowing.
"It's inside your throat?" Cai Qingluan gasped.
He nodded again, agony etched on his face. He pulled a small, sharp knife from his tunic and raised it towards his neck, preparing to cut.
"No!" Zhang Feidie cried, lunging forward to stop him. "There has to be another way!"
Hong Jiu shook his head, his eyes filled with grim resolve. He gestured towards the sounds of the approaching footsteps outside, then back to his throat, then towards the main Stele chamber, signing frantically: "No time."
In that desperate moment, Zhang Feidie's eyes lit up. "Wait! I have an idea!"
She fumbled for the jade box containing the mutated Spirit Vexongrass leaf—the one bearing her face. Carefully, she opened it. The leaf still pulsed faintly under the torchlight.
"Spirit Vexongrass absorbs toxins!" she exclaimed. "Maybe... maybe it can help counteract the mercury poisoning temporarily! Enough for you to get the pendant out without..."
She gently pressed the leaf against the black scar on Hong Jiu's throat, whispering an ancient activation chant her father had taught her.
A miracle occurred. The tiny face on the leaf seemed to pulse, its lines writhing as if sucking something from the scar. Slowly, miraculously, the deep blackness of Hong Jiu's scar began to fade, and the pained expression on his face eased into one of stunned surprise.
"I... can... speak..." The metallic rasp was still there, but significantly less harsh, the words flowing more easily. "Thank... you... Hong Gu."
Carefully, he reached a hand towards his throat, probing deep inside, retrieving the third piece of the jade pendant from a hidden pouch within his esophagus. It was smaller than the other two, but perfectly shaped to complete the chiwen – the tail section.
"The three pieces united... can open the Alchemy Furnace's seal," Hong Jiu said, his voice still rough but now coherent. "But we must be careful. Opening the seal will also release a portion of the Miasma Mother's power."
"Then what do we do?" Cai Qingluan asked, her Miao Dao held ready.
"We need to find the Alchemy Furnace first, then..."
Hong Jiu's words were cut off by a chilling voice echoing from the cave entrance: "Then... you all die."
They spun around. Blocking the passage stood a headless figure—Meng Xuanye's reanimated corpse! And looming behind him, filling the tunnel, were the eighteen Nuo-masked dead, each wielding ancient, decaying weapons.
"Miasma Mother..." Zhang Feidie whispered, the butterfly mark on her shoulder flaring violently, threatening to burst free.
"Run!" Cai Qingluan screamed, her Miao Dao flashing out to parry the lunge of the first masked corpse.
They fought their way back, retreating deeper into the cave system. Hong Jiu led the way, navigating a maze of complex tunnels, finally bursting into a massive, circular cavern. Dominating the center was a colossal stone platform, and upon it sat an ancient furnace cast entirely of bronze.
It stood ten feet tall, its surface covered in intricate patterns and runes. Three distinct indentations were carved into its side, perfectly matching the shape of the three united jade pendant pieces.
"This is it!" Hong Jiu gasped, breathless. "We have to complete the ritual before the Nuo corpses reach us!"
Cai Qingluan and Zhang Feidie met his gaze, shared determination hardening their eyes.
"Then let's begin," Cai Qingluan said, plunging her Miao Dao into the ground beside the furnace. "For Tingjiang. For everyone."
Each holding a piece of the jade pendant, they stood before the ancient furnace, ready to unlock the secret that had slept for three hundred years.
But at the cavern entrance, the headless Meng Xuanye advanced slowly, inexorably, leading his army of the masked dead. The broken pendant piece in his hand pulsed with an evil violet light, seeming to call out to the dormant furnace.
A battle for survival, for the soul of Tingjiang itself, was about to unfold in the heart of the ancient Refinery Cave.