Astra moved slowly along the narrow corridor, arms folded, eyes distant caught in the storm of thoughts that hadn't left her since waking. The flicker of torches on the wooden walls cast uneasy shadows, and the silence had a weight to it that clung like mist.
She turned the corner and collided with someone.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she murmured, stepping back quickly.
The man—a traveler by the look of him, dusty robe and a satchel over his shoulder chuckled lightly but looked over his shoulder with a strange edge in his voice.
"You came from that way?" he asked, pointing behind her. Astra nodded absently.
His brow furrowed. "Don't go near the last room down that hall. There's… strange noises. Not like someone's talking. More like… scratching. Screaming. Breathing. Wrong." He gave a stiff shrug. "Just saying. I was going to knock, but… whatever's in there, it's not right."
Astra blinked, brows knitting. "The last room?"
But the man was already walking off, shaking his head as if trying to forget it himself.
She turned toward the corridor he had pointed to. The farthest door. That wing of the inn had mostly been empty—except…
Guo Ping. And those two cultivators… that's where they were staying.
A cold thread ran through her chest. She lingered, staring down the dimly lit passage. She paced, turned back, stopped. Her fingers curled and uncurled.
"I shouldn't. It's not my business. I should leave it alone." But something in her gut twisted tighter with every step away.
"Strange noises… from a cultivator's room?"
She exhaled sharply, jaw tightening.
"…Screw it."
She pivoted and strode down the corridor silent, steady toward the last door.
As she drew closer, the air grew colder. The noises that man had mentioned became distinct unnatural scraping sounds, ragged gasps, and then—
A scream. Not one voice, but two—twisting together in perfect discord.
Astra stopped in her tracks, heart lurching. She stepped back instinctively, preparing to leave.
That's when she heard it. Mo Lian's voice, sharp and furious,
"I think we have to kill him. If that spirit doesn't come out… we have no choice."
Kill him? Astra's eyes widened as she leaned in closer.
"Mo Lian, what are you saying? He's our junior—how can you even—"
"He's not our junior anymore," Mo Lian snapped. "He's possessed by some lunatic spirit who claims to be a thousand years old! He bit me yesterday, Zhenyu. Bit me. I'm sick of it. We can't just tie him up here forever!"
Astra covered her mouth. Guo Ping… is possessed?
Zhenyu's voice followed, tense but calmer.
"That doesn't mean you kill him. We'll find a way to force it out."
"We've tried every method," Mo Lian hissed. "It clings to him like tar—it's not leaving! And it keeps demanding peach wine and silk robes like some deranged noble ghost!"
She threw her arms up, exasperated. "Zhenyu, it ate fifty dumplings in one sitting—more than Guo Ping could eat in three days! I thought our junior was already a hungry ghoul, but this is exhausting!"
Her voice dropped into a bitter growl. "I'm done. I can't afford to fund this spirit's cravings any longer. Let's just kill it, then take Junior Guo's corpse back to the sect, and sort out the details later."
A moment of silence.
Then Wei Zhenyu's voice, low and alert.
"Someone's listening."
The door yanked open in an instant. Light spilled out, and Astra froze.
Wei Zhenyu stood at the threshold, brows furrowed. Behind him—chaos.
Guo Ping was strapped to a wooden chair with glowing spirit-thread binding his wrists and ankles. His mouth was gagged with a red charm scroll, but he still managed to thrash wildly, eyes unfocused, and laughter, someone else's laughter spilled from his throat, unholy and high-pitched.
The room behind them was in shambles broken shelves, torn charm-scrolls fluttering like dead leaves, and scorch marks branding the wooden walls as if something had tried to claw its way out with fire.
Mo Lian stood near the center, sword drawn, the blade hovering just inches from Guo Ping's throat.
Astra blinked, stunned. "…What," she finally managed, "the hell is going on here?"
Suddenly, the laughter stopped.
Guo Ping or rather, the spirit inside him froze. Its eyes slowly lifted toward her, narrowing. Then widened.
Not with interest. With terror.
A guttural screech tore from his throat as he began thrashing violently, the chair tipping with the force. He flung himself backward, bindings creaking as the possessed body rolled and jerked along the floor in panic.
Astra instinctively stepped back, startled.
"What—" Mo Lian's grip on the sword tightened. "I think this lunatic spirit is trying something again!" She raised her blade. "We shouldn't let it finish whatever it's doing—!"
"Wait—what? Stop!" Astra shouted, stepping into the room in a rush.
Mo Lian froze mid-swing, turning her glare onto Astra. "What are you doing? Stay out of this!" she snapped, frustration flashing in her eyes.
"But you're going to kill him," Astra shot back, stepping closer. "Possessed or not—he's still Guo Ping. If you strike now… he dies."
Mo Lian's grip on the sword tightened, her eyes narrowing. "Send her out and lock the door… before I lose my temper."
Wei Zhenyu moved quickly beside her. "She's right—don't lose your temper!"
"But it's dangerous if it escapes," Mo Lian snapped.
"You heard it. It claims to be a thousand years old. That's not a ghost—that's a malevolent shíshīguǐ (Corpse-eating ghost/ghoul) and if it's true, we're dealing with a grudge that's survived ten centuries. Do you know how much hatred it would take to last that long?"
"That's if it's telling the truth," Wei Zhenyu countered, calm but firm. "We've held it here. It's bound. It's been weaker than most possession-class spirits I've seen. I think it's lying—just some third-rat deceitful soul trying to talk its way out. He turned his gaze toward the writhing figure on the chair. "More likely, a liar-spirit, They feed on fear, bluff their power, and twist the truth just to avoid being exorcised."
At those words, the bound figure abruptly stopped thrashing. With a sudden jerk, it sat upright, chair creaking beneath the shift, its posture unnervingly rigid. The charm scroll muffling its mouth flared red with spiritual resistance, but the spirit's eyes locked furiously onto Zhenyu, glaring.
Mo Lian rolled her eyes with a groan and stepped forward, yanking the charm free.
The spirit spat it out and hissed, voice gravelly and soaked in outrage. "You rat-faced cultivator! Who are you calling weak? I am the Great Mo Yeyan! Slayer of monks, devourer of kings! I've feasted on more corpses in the last hundred centuries than you've ever seen in your pathetic little life!" He leaned forward, teeth bared in a grin far too wide for any human mouth.
"If I hadn't nearly been swallowed by the Abyss itself, if I hadn't lost most of my strength clawing my way back through the shadows—I would've possessed you instead, ripped your heart out, and gnawed your bones to ash."
Before it could spew another word, Mo Lian smacked it across the face with the flat of her sword, hard enough to rattle the chair.
"Say that again to him in front of me, you lunatic!" Mo Lian snapped, eyes blazing. "I'll devour the last shreds of your spirit myself and spit you out as dust."
Mo Yeyan hissed, retreating with a low growl—but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. His gaze drifted, landing on Astra, who stood in the corner, silent and still, watching every moment of the exchange unfold.
Wei Zhenyu stepped forward, voice cold and cutting. "Weak. No matter how long you've clung to this world, you're nothing more than a worn-out ghost feeding on borrowed breath. If you don't want your thousand-year-old spirit exorcised into nothingness—"
"STOP!" Mo Yeyan screeched, thrashing in his bindings. "Why do you rats keep saying that?! She—" his gaze locked on Astra, who swallowed hard, "—she said the same thing! And the moment I tore free from the his body, that thing in the dark devoured half my soul and spat me out like garbage! You think I chose this pathetic vessel?! That I want to be like this?!"
His voice broke, ragged and desperate.
"You can bind me again, seal me, torture me but I won't go back! I'll stick to this body, eat what I must to regain my power, and then I'll devour you both, you sanctimonious—grave-sniffing dogs!"
A loud crack echoed through the room.
Mo Lian had struck him with the flat of her blade again.
He growled, glaring up at her, teeth bared. "You! You mangy boar! do you even know who you're threatening? I may be weakened now, but…"
A sharp whistle sliced through the air then a jagged shard of glass came flying across the room and embedded deep into Mo Lian's hand. Blood welled instantly, trickling down her wrist.
She gasped, stumbling back in surprise, then looked down at her hand trembling, bleeding and up at Mo Yeyan with fire in her eyes. She raised her sword, expression murderous, ready to end it.
"Enough!" Wei Zhenyu grabbed her wrist, stepping in front of her. "Lian—stop!"
She froze, breathing hard, her glare locked on the bound spirit. Zhenyu gently took her hand in his, inspecting the wound. His brows furrowed, voice low and laced with concern.
"Lian… you're bleeding."
She glanced down at their hands his thumb brushing away blood, his hold steady despite the trembling in hers. Her anger didn't fade, but it wavered, shifted stirred by the warmth in his touch.
Their eyes met for a breath too long.
"…It's nothing,"