On the outskirts of the capital, an ancient fortress looms over a desolate stretch of desert. This grim monolith has housed the most notorious criminals of Hell for eons. Only the vilest of demons are granted the honour of rotting within its cursed walls.
Lord Taizan never imagined he'd be forced to visit his own blood among these degenerates. No matter how disgraceful, blood ties remain unchanged. He had fought tooth and nail to defend her after the official sentence, but now? With Lord Enma's sudden return, the ministers had all miraculously rediscovered their ethics. Corruption was out of question, and self-preservation was the new law.
With no chance to overturn the verdict, all Lord Taizan could do was ensure that Aika is caged somewhere less wretched than this pit.
As he's escorted through the dim, suffocating corridor toward Aika's cell, he unexpectedly collides with a familiar figure. "You- "Taizan stiffens.
"Mr. Yutao." He greets with a frown.
"Your Majesty." Yutao bows in return, all smooth manners, and a questionable appearance.
What the hell is he doing here? He was just leaving Aika's cell. Why—?
"Were you visiting Aika?" Lord Taizan asks, suspicion crackling behind his words. With a polite smile Yutao sidesteps him. "Yes. Just a short visit."
"What- "
"Well then, I'll take my leave." He bows once more and strides off down the corridor. Not bothering to explain his peculiar visit to Lord Taizan. Doesn't matter. I will get the truth from Aika.
He watches the guard fumble through a heavy ring of keys. After a tense moment, the man finds the right one and unlocks the heavy iron door leading to the chamber reserved for criminals of noble blood. Aika has spent days alone in her solitary cell. But this is the first time Lord Taizan has come to see her.
So, rage flares in his chest when he sees his granddaughter shackled in heavy chains like she's one of those vermin. "Are the lot of you courting death?" the king bellows.
"How dare you chain my kin with such brutality? Release her. Now!"
The guard scrambles to obey, his hands trembling as he unlocks the manacles. Aika throws him a dirty look while the chains are undone, the iron cuffs clinking to the floor. Her tender bruises slowly losing the blue and black colour, slowly healing as she stretches them out.
Then it's just the two of them.
Aika remains on her knees, her grandfather looming over her from the other side of the bars. Aika's eyes hold a strange peace. There is no fear, no anger, not even curiosity for whatever news he brings.
Lord Taizan taunts. "Your husband has done a magnificent job of keeping his hands clean. To the point where he has hypnotized everyone into almost forgetting that he is your husband."
Weirdly enough, the woman does not fly into rage. No, Aika simply smiles. As if she was never wronged. Just a soft, unsettling smile.
This is odd.
Lord Taizan clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Anyways… I cannot bear seeing you in this hovel anymore. I could not reduce your sentence, let alone bail you. But I've managed something." He exhales with an exhausted face. "You're being moved to house arrest."
Aika's gentle smile slowly deepens. Her eyes curving in her signature seductive manner. And she whispers. "I know."
Lord Taizan's brows furrow with confusion. "How? The session just concluded." She tilts her head.
"Yutao told me."
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Qiao Fan clutches her phone between her ear and shoulder as she fumbles to open her umbrella. Rain lashes down in sheets. "Mom, I'm coming!" she barks into the receiver.
"Yes. Soon. Soon! I am on the bridge."
She yanks her backpack to her chest, shielding it from the downpour. She'd been stuck at a café across town, finishing a group project. More so, she had lost track of time with her company. A jagged crack of thunder reminded her to check the time. Her silent phone was bursting with fifteen missed calls from her worried mother.
"Ugh…"
Mom's going to kill me. She's never letting out again, I swear.
Qiao Fan breaks into a jog, splashing through puddles as she nears the bridge to her residential compound—when it hits her. "Oh shit! The tiffin."
Eating a home-packed lunch in a trendy café? Lame. Mortifying, even. She'd stuffed it deep in her bag and forgotten about it. Her mother is already mad. If the woman finds out that she is late and did not eat her lunch, Qiao Fan will be left for the streets.
"What do I do? What do I-?"
Her troubled gaze falls on the small animal shelter near the iron gate. A trio of scruffy, hollow-eyed dogs stare out at her from the doghouse. She bolts toward them, digging in her bag.
Screw it.
She opens the tiffin and dumps the contents onto the pavement.
"Here! Eat!"
With a low whine, the dogs dive into the sloppy mess presented to them. Qiao Fan watches, a small, relieved smile tugging at her lips. She thinks of how adorable and pitiful the dogs looked. Too bad that her mother would never allow her to raise one.
She looks around the residential area. No one was around except for her, making her feel how late she is. "Shit." She throws the box back in her bag and walks with heavy steps towards her apartment building. In her hurry, what she didn't realize was that one of those dogs seemed to have no interest in the food. Her frantic thoughts blindsided her from noticing that one of those dogs had an eerie red tinge in its eyes. And those eyes were now locked onto her back. Unblinking.
Rain hisses against its matted coat—not soaking in, not rolling off, but evaporating on contact. Steam rises from its back in thin, ghostly curls. Something innate stirs in the other dogs, a primal instinct that claws its way to the surface. The dogs erupt into barking—loud, desperate, frenzied. No longer hungry. No longer wagging their tails. Their ears pin back, teeth bared, bodies lowered in fear.
What is up with those mutts?
Qiao Fan turns around to sneak a quick glance at them. But what she sees renders her frozen. Right behind her was a dog, his face frozen with a maniacal look that can never belong to an innocent animal. A strange joy and malice reflected from its still stance. His tongue hanging out, foaming with excess drool.
It's as if he was caught in the act. But that will not ruin its fun.
If anything, the moment has made the hunt better.
The umbrella in Qiao Fan's hand trembles again—but this time, not from the cold. The barking only gets more fervent as the possessed dog comes closer.
She needs to run.
But her feet feel nailed to the concrete. Her breath catches. Her pulse pounds in her ears. She forces her head to turn, slowly, afraid to leave her back open to it.
Then she bolts.
Because suddenly, she knows—really knows—that her life depends on it.
Her breaths grow ragged, panting as she sprints with everything she has left. She doesn't even realize that tears are streaming down her face. In this downpour, no one would. Only her expression—twisted with pure, unfiltered terror—gives her away. That face then comes crashing down. Her face slams into the pavement with a wet crack. Teeth rattle loose, some hanging grotesquely from bloodied gums. A scream bursts from her throat. "Help! Someone!"
Unfortunately, the rain drains out her voice. The only ones who hear her scream are the terrified shelter dogs, still howling in the distance. Then she feels it. An indescribable tearing sensation rips through her leg. She knows what's happened. She doesn't need to look. The thing has peeled the flesh from her calf as effortlessly as stripping meat from a chicken bone.
Qiao Fan howls in agony, thrashing. Through pure adrenaline, she swings her backpack at the thing's head and jabs her umbrella into its eye.
With that she manages to slip out of the beast's hold, and scrambles up to run again. Qiao Fan cannot afford to feel the pain. Blood pours down her body, bubbling from her mouth. Her leg—what's left of it—dangles like a puppet's limb, the white of bone now visible through shredded skin.
She falls to her knees, but that does not stop her. She crawls. Her nails dig into the gravel as she simply must run.
Run.
Run!
Sharp claws rake through her scalp, yanking her head back as the beast sinks its jaws in her throat. Her body hits the ground with a sickening thud. The adrenaline wears off and now all she feels is bone-shattering pain. Her scream gurgles out, but no sound comes from her punctured throat.
The dogs cease to bark as fear completely overwhelms them. They tuck their tails and manage to run away, but Qiao Fan could not. She feels her consciousness slipping away as the demonic dog continues to tear at her flesh, till she is nothing but bones.
Her lips twitch one last time, mouthing a word that never makes it past her ruined throat - Mom.
Somewhere in the darkness, her phone vibrates in her bag. The cracked screen flickers, displaying multiple notifications.
20 missed calls from Mom<3
But Qiao Fan can no longer respond to them. Never return home.
The demon gnaws contentedly, wet chewing sounds echoing in the storm. Qiao Fan is long dead but her body continues to get mutilated. About fifteen minutes pass and a commotion disturb the demon's trance. A middle-aged couple stand a few feet away from them. Sensing that dinner time was now over, the demon discards its host. The dog which had evolved grotesquely under the demon's control, shrinks back into its original form. Its soul had been long devoured; only the husk remains. It topples forward, landing limp over Qiao Fan's desecrated corpse.
The middle-aged woman lets out an earth-shattering shriek, the start of a mother's deep agony. Meanwhile, there was no one to notice that the shell-shocked father has abnormally composed himself. The father stands unnaturally still. Then, slowly, he removes his glasses. His hand rubs at his dry eyes. When he opens them again, they shine.
The demon has chosen its next host, and the eerie red eyes were born again.
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A rancid catastrophe has hit the mortal world. Now that Zhang Xiyu has coldly revoked his kind services, the old disease has returned, stronger than ever. This disease is very well hidden. It hides leisurely behind the perceptions of the well-educated. There is no such thing, ghosts and demons are a fable created by those illiterate villagers to scare their brats into obedience.
A disease has affected the mortal world, and the modern medical science will never detect it.
News channels are jam packed with reports of brutal deaths. Experts debate for hours with the aim to blatantly build up the TRP. Police sirens blare through the streets a lot more often now. But the people keep dying. And hours of debates could never figure out the true cause.
Because each death was a little different. A common observation could be that these humans were maybe eaten. But their corpses, they all looked like they were attacked by different species. The working class couldn't just quit their jobs and run away. As they muddled through their routine with a distressed mind, they ultimately made peace with a common consensus.
It's simple. Humans, animals. They have all lost their minds. It must be a parasite that makes people crazy.
They cover their faces with masks and avoid eating meat. They sanitize everything and stay away from crowds. But the cases never flatline.
The high-level demons resort to possession while the low-level youkais feast directly, leaving zero trace of the human's existence. The minister inaugurating a new highway suddenly looks straight down the camera, his gaze soulless and unnatural. The teachers' kind eyes towards her students lose all humanity. And parents crowd the police station demanding they find their children.
Slowly and surely, hell was integrating within the mortal world.
And no one is there to stop it.
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Now that Hōetsu was done for, Hao Enlai once again became a frequent visitor of Ren Jiang's villa. This white monument had been built in the image of Portuguese architecture, a jarring sight amid the dreary skyline. Every time he stepped onto the property, he felt it that this place didn't belong here.
It's hard to explain; in simple words – it does not belong to hell.
Shaking those unimportant thoughts away, he walks towards the family room with familiar ease. The door opens and there he is, Ren Jiang slouches deep into the three-seater sofa. He holds a long kiseru in his hand, the smoke coiling down softly like clouds. Its length tells Hao Enlai that this is Ren Jiang's special kiseru – kenka kiseru. Not just a tobacco pipe, but also a handy weapon. It is as lethal as it is ornate. A gift from his dear wife.
He takes the couch in front of the lord, hands moving to pour himself some tea. Ren Jiang stirs from his lounging position. "Yesterday, they sent soldiers to raid my other properties," he says, voice cool but curdled with contempt. "They seized three houses before I even heard about it."
He taps the pipe on the armrest, letting the ashes stain the couch. "I want to kill Liu Xue."
"Oh, don't worry about him, Lord Ren," Hao Enlai says smoothly. "I know everything about him. When the right time comes, we will amputate his every limb. He will die powerless."
"Just like his mother."
"Then what is stopping me, you bastard?" Ren Jiang asks with a mad chuckle. Hao Enlai doesn't flinch. He is long used to being pinned under his gaze. He calmly replies. "Because we have a more pressing issue."
"I believe this scandal is thrown at you to distract you from the bigger picture. The throne."
Rage dissolves into epiphany. And just like that Hao Enlai was relieved from the pressure. He continues. "Everyone knows that Zhang Xiyu bears the Blue Lotus. By entangling you in these petty affairs, Liu Xue believes he can swoop in—take the Blue Lotus for himself."
"That seems to be the case." Ren Jiang's fingers curls under his chin, thoughtful. "We've been at a stalemate for centuries. Why now?"
He answers himself. "Because our old man is returning."
"He's getting desperate."
Hao Enlai watched Ren Jiang put the pieces together. He just silently prays to the universe that this lord doesn't pick up on this diversion. Hao Enlai became a very important man to the first prince. His sly schemes have surely helped him solidify his position. But truthfully, his value primarily lies in the information he has on Liu Xue.
His value lies in his betrayal.
What happens to him if he reveals that the information he promised to Ren Jiang no longer holds any weight?
He thought he was safe—until this morning. A letter arrived, penned by his mole inside Liu Xue's camp.
The Royal Battalion is here. They've taken over the camp. It's official. Liu Xue has handed over command to the military.
He had rushed to the court, where preparations were already underway for a celebration. A eunuch filled him in; Lord Liu was to be appointed commander of a military faction. The palace now prepares for an intimate feast on this occasion.
That's when he knew, he fucked up.
Liu Xue must know that he has betrayed him. He never expected Liu Xue to surrender his army. He knows him, he is too proud to pull this. But the real surprise is that the court…backed him up? Since when were his relations with the court so strong? And how did he get Hōetsu's incriminating paperwork?
He should've had Ren Jiang attack first. He waited, thinking it was too soon to show his hand. He wanted to hold on to what little leverage he had. Now it was gone. If he'd played all his cards early, they would've discarded him without a second thought. But waiting had cost him everything anyway.
Regrets are for the leisurely. Right now, all he can do is survive.
Hao Enlai leans forward, his dark eyes pierce through the haze of smoke. He deliberately makes his voice tremble. "You must attack Zhang Xiyu. It is time for Yutao to show his worth."
Ren Jiang breaks from his thoughts and meets Hao Enlai's levelled gaze. With a firm tone, he commands. "Arrange the meeting for tomorrow."
Hao Enlai bows, his shoulders slackening with relief. The big shark has taken the bait. Fate has allowed him to live another day. But just as he begins to rise, a brutal force slams him back onto the sofa. The heavy kiseru presses on his neck as Ren Jiang towers over him. He places his foot on Hao Enlai's knee, almost crushing it. If not for his elegant robes, Ren Jiang had embraced the lethal image of a lawless gangster.
Hao Enlai breath hitches with the pain radiating from his knee. The kiseru's bowl burning into his flesh. A shiver runs down his spine, he dares not look at Ren Jiang.
The prince's voice is low and venomous. "You know everything about Liu Xue? You said so."
"Then you must have known that he would destroy Hōetsu, right?" He sneers.
Hao Enlai's face flushes crimson as the kiseru chokes the air from his throat. He gasps. "No… I had…no idea- "
"I would… never… betray…y- "
He breaks into violent coughing as Ren Jiang abruptly releases his hold. He slides off the sofa, landing in a graceless heap, struggling to regain even a shred of composure. His confident front is crushed like a tiny ant. To think that his life could have ended that easily.
Ren Jiang looks down at the wheezing mess, eyes cold, lips curling in contempt—like he's just finished with a cheap whore.
He spits. "Get out."
He need not say that a second time as Hao Enlai scrambles out without so much as a backward glance.