Chapter Seven

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After exiting from an on-ramp of a certain highway, following a stretch of jolting gravel road, and passing through a small forest, one would come upon a large patch of barren land, entirely out of place amidst the surrounding pastoral landscape. In the center of this wasteland stood a three-story mansion. A narrow path, parting the ankle-high wild grass, wound its way from the front door of the lonely house to the gravel road.

Rain pattered down in a fine drizzle. No lights could be seen anywhere nearby. Occasionally, lightning would rip across the sky, leaving behind a fleeting, jagged scar above the plains.

When Zi’ang parked the car at the edge of the wasteland, a faint candlelight flickered in the attic window of the solitary house. Yet, as another bolt of lightning flashed across the night, the candlelight vanished along with it into darkness.

“What an atmospheric place,” Steven said, flipping up his collar as he stepped out of the car. “Anyone whose name isn’t Amelia, just wait outside.”

Zi’ang was about to toss out a few talisman papers to shield Amelia from the rain, but before he could act, a barrier glowing with purple light unfurled above the car, covering a wide area of ground.

Amelia pushed open the door, hurried forward a few steps, and put some distance between herself and the others.

From the woods they had passed earlier came the sound of tires crunching over gravel.

“That old codger,” Steven muttered, turning to look at the forest’s edge. “I’ll finally get to ask him some questions.”

A white van emerged from the trees and stopped beneath the purple barrier.

“What trick are you up to this time?!” Steven shouted as he strode toward the van. “Who does a containment at night in a dump like this?” He yanked open the driver’s door and peered at Kurt. “Of the new recruits you found, I haven’t even seen one, and I can’t understand a word the other says! Please, this time, don’t suggest one of those idiotic plans where we act, analyze, and die all at once.”

Kurt gazed at Steven’s tirade with calm indifference. When Steven finished, he turned the key to shut off the van’s engine. “The deceased was an ordinary mechanic. His spirit should be just as ordinary. Why don’t you go in now and catch it? Wouldn’t that settle all your worries?”

“Well—” Steven’s tone softened instantly. He raised a finger and jabbed the air. “We’ll see! If it really isn’t that tough… there’s no need! After all, we have Amelia.”

Kurt pulled a small syringe from his coat pocket and tossed it casually to Steven.

Steven made no move to catch it, letting it pass in front of him.

Yet the syringe never hit the ground. Midway, a blue orb enclosed it, suspending it beside Steven.

Steven lifted an eyebrow. “If I didn’t catch that, your cool act would have become instantly awkward.” He turned to look at the syringe. “What is this? What’s it for?”

“There’s a civilian inside the house,” Kurt said, grabbing an umbrella from the passenger seat and stepping out. “A female civilian, if that motivates you. For her safety, she must be evacuated first, but she probably won’t cooperate. Use extreme measures if necessary.”

“What do you mean? I have to go in too?” Steven jabbed a thumb at Amelia. “Aren’t we supposed to be her cheer squad?”

“Amelia will express herself outside the house, drawing the spirit out,” Kurt said, glancing at Zi’ang, “The three of you go in to find the civilian. Be careful of the spirit’s defensive measures.”

“Defensive measures?” Steven looked at the lonely house. “Oh, you mean defenses.” He nodded in feigned understanding.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a mechanic joining us?” Lannie asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” said Dylan, extending a hand with several headset communicators through the van’s partition window. “Dylan Bansley, pleased to meet you. I can report real-time data if you need it. After all, you’re the professionals.” His delivery was so smooth, it sounded as if he had rehearsed it multiple times.

An orange glow enveloped the communicators, lifting them to Lannie.

“Why doesn’t he…” Lannie pointed at the van’s rear door.

Kurt rubbed his forehead. “He’s afraid of losing his sense of security,” he replied.

Zi’ang grabbed two communicators, then looked at Amelia standing alone. “Well, you… or I could… Yes, that’s it. That’s decided,” he muttered, walking toward Amelia.

Steven gave Kurt a disdainful look. “Where do you find these people?”

Before Zi’ang got close, a purple orb enveloped one of his communicators and carried it toward Amelia.

Zi’ang stopped, nodded, and turned to leave.

“Thank you.”

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Amelia’s whisper made Zi’ang pause again. He awkwardly twisted his body, tiptoeing to Amelia’s side while deliberately keeping enough distance to remain just in her peripheral vision.

“You’re welcome,” Zi’ang replied, keeping his gaze parallel to hers, “I saw you gave your communicator back to Chloe, so I figured you’d need another.”

Amelia said nothing.

“I’m, uh, sorry… about what happened on the rooftop,” Zi’ang went on. “I wanted to help, but…”

Still, Amelia remained silent.

“That technique you used,” Zi’ang said, clumsily flicking his hand, “the one with your hair—I once saw someone else…”

“She taught me,” Amelia murmured softly.

Zi’ang turned his head sharply to look at her.

Amelia clipped the communicator to her ear. As she did, she tilted her head slightly away from Zi’ang.

“Wow, I didn’t even know you’d met,” Zi’ang said, shuffling a step closer. “No, of course you’d met. Ziyi always attends spiritual summits—she’s somewhat famous, but you, you’re even more so… Miss Walton.”

Zi’ang tapped his head a few times in frustration at his lack of vocabulary.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Steven’s voice boomed from behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be organizing this operation?”

Kurt, holding the umbrella, continued toward the woods without answering.

“Everyone, I’m detecting consciousness shifts,” Dylan’s voice came through the communicators. “They’re approaching from the house’s entrance. Miss Mason, please move two steps to your right, if you would.”

“I could,” said Lannie, “but why?”

“Just so there’s a… I mean, it’ll make the next step easier,” Dylan coughed. “The entity’s expression level is Beta Seventeen. To avoid provoking resistance before you declare your intentions, you should express negatively for now. The exact readings are on your wristbands. Of course, you all know this better than I do.” His voice grew quieter with every word.

“Uh, what wristbands?” Zi’ang asked in confusion.

A brass two-pronged candelabrum floated toward them from the house. It bore no candles—just two short, fixed pins in the sockets.

A scantily dressed woman followed, head bowed, fingers interlaced before her. Her black crop top was soaked through and clung to her, making her look almost painfully thin.

“Well, well,” Steven called out, pointing at the woman, “well, well!” He called again, stepping toward her.

The candelabrum stopped floating a few paces from Amelia, hovering at eye level. The woman halted a bit farther back.

Amelia raised her hand.

A violet glow shimmered above the woman’s head. But before the barrier could fully form, a pulse from the candelabrum scattered it.

Amelia frowned and took a half-step forward, sending rainwater splashing in all directions.

“Whoa, whoa! Hold on!” Steven shouted. “No need to get so worked up right away. At least let me get the woman out first! And wait till I’m clear before you start anything.”

A swirl of colors blossomed between the candelabrum and Amelia, coalescing into the image of a man. He resembled the talking heads Steven had conjured in the Harold Tower, but the details here were much sharper and more complete.

“A virtual body mimic? Interesting,” Dylan commented through the communicator. “In this state, it can’t touch you. If the rain stops passing through its body, that’s when you should be careful.”

The spectral man appeared about thirty, wearing a mechanic’s coveralls. His physique was sturdy and well-proportioned, with solid, visible muscles. His face was unfriendly, framed by a short, thick beard; his furrowed brow etched deep lines at the corners of his eyes. Aside from the glow, he looked almost entirely human.

“It seems more polite to converse this way,” a hoarse voice issued from the man’s head, though his lips did not move. “Don’t be rude, darling,” he said stiffly, turning to the woman a few steps away. “Come here and say hello.”

The woman shuffled to his side, nodding slightly. Her rain-soaked bangs hung in messy strands, hiding her expression.

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“Good girl.” The man reached to touch her face.

His glowing hand passed right through her cheek, utterly insubstantial.

“For the record,” Steven said to Lannie, “that’s what you call a bastard. Me? I’m just overly romantic.”

Amelia lifted her right hand. A blade-shaped arc of violet light formed along her gesture, slicing through the rain, shattering the man’s glowing form, and shooting toward the candelabrum.

A pulse of energy knocked the violet blade aside, sending it crashing past the candelabrum into the ground, where it carved a gash in the grass.

Steven hurried forward, trying to reach the woman.

The scattered light gathered in front of Steven, forming a humanoid outline that forced him to stop. This form was different—roughly sketched, lacking facial features, its torso unusually long, its limbs thick and out of proportion. Most strikingly, it could clearly touch physical objects—the rain slid down its shoulders and dripped from its massive feet.

Steven steadied himself and punched the figure. His fist was wreathed in blue light, but landing on the shoulder had no effect.

The humanoid gripped Steven’s hand and, with casual ease, flung him aside.

A spread of talisman papers arranged themselves in the air, forming a curved shield that caught and steadied Steven.

A ball of orange light shot past Zi’ang, striking the faceless figure and sending it staggering back a few steps.

Steven seized the chance and ran toward the woman again.

The figure arched its elongated body back, scooped a handful of mud from the ground, and flung it at Steven.

A barely visible ripple enveloped the flying mud, slamming into Steven and knocking him off balance.

Before Steven could regain his footing, the frail woman snatched up a stone from the grass, stepped forward, and smashed it into the side of Steven’s face.

“Ow!” Steven clutched his cheek, hopping in frustration. “Are you brainless?” he roared. “Your pile of mud can knock people over, and glowing figures are running rampant! Can’t you see which side you should be on?!”

The woman turned and staggered back toward the house.

“Troublesome,” Steven muttered, chasing after her with Lannie close behind.

The humanoid moved to block them, but before it could take a step, a wave of violet energy seized its leg, hoisted it into the air, and slammed it back down.

Some splattered mud flew toward Amelia but was stopped by a violet barrier just before reaching her.

Zi’ang tucked a talisman paper between his fingers and pointed at the humanoid.

“Please,” Amelia said softly, “go with them.”

Zi’ang looked at her. “I could actually…” He bit his lip and blinked. “But… all right.” He put away the talisman and dashed after Steven and Lannie.

Another bolt of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the heavens and earth.

Across the vast plains, apart from the solitary house and the nearby woods, nothing else broke the surface. The emptiness, together with the rain and thunder, brewed an indescribable sense of oppression, making the modest three-story house seem enormous.

In that unsettling darkness, two beams of headlights pierced through the woods, drawing closer to the house.