Summoning

The creamy white paste sat silently in the jar, emitting a cloyingly sweet fragrance. Its texture appeared even more refined, as if it had only just been concocted.

Zhang Jingyi focused intently, dabbed a small amount with her fingertip, and smoothed it gently onto her face.

The mirror reflected her visage; her skin was so smooth that even her pores were barely visible, lending her an unreal, doll-like quality. She studied herself in the mirror from both sides for a while, appearing deeply satisfied with the state of her complexion. With a soft sigh of relief, a contented curve tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Tightening the lid, she carefully placed the cream back in its spot, then pulled back the covers and lay down.

The room was bathed in stillness, save for the low, mournful wail of the wind outside the window. Yun Xian watched every one of her movements in silence, the unease in her heart deepening. She said nothing, merely pulling the blanket up in turn, closing her eyes, and steadying her breathing.

As the night grew heavier, the wind outside began to howl with renewed ferocity, causing the windows to rattle faintly. The room plunged into a profound silence, and darkness spread like a rising tide.

I do not know how much time passed before a faint sound broke the stillness—the rustle of fabric, the whisper of breath. Yun Xian’s eyelashes fluttered, her eyes remaining shut, yet she knew—Zhang Jingyi had indeed risen.

The bedroom door was pulled open with the slightest of sounds. A slender silhouette slipped silently through the gap and vanished with light, graceful steps toward the end of the corridor.

Yun Xian rolled out of bed and, stepping onto the soft Persian rug, quickly followed.

The lighting in the hallway was dim, with the wall sconces casting hazy, flickering shadows. Zhang Jingyi walked with a light tread, glancing around cautiously from time to time, yet she never sensed Yun Xian closing in behind her. She ascended the stairs with steady, unhesitating steps.

The third-floor corridor was submerged in darkness. A sliver of light from outside the window barely outlined Zhang Jingyi’s lithe form, dragging a long, distorted shadow across the floor. She quickened her pace, heading straight for the end of the hall.

Yun Xian stopped in her tracks, her heart jolting.

That door—the one they had been unable to open no matter how they tried—was now standing wide open.

Darkness poured out from within, an abyssal blackness that hid everything behind it. Zhang Jingyi stood at the threshold, leaning slightly to peer into the room.

Deep within the gloom, half of a blurred face slowly emerged. Song Ran was submerged in the shadows, his eyes glowing with a faint, eerie light, a cryptic, inscrutable smile playing on his lips.

He extended a hand, his fingertips trembling. Zhang Jingyi did not hesitate; she raised her own hand and interlaced her fingers with his. Their hands locked together, and they vanished into the darkness that seemed to swallow all things.

Yun Xian held her breath and moved quickly to the edge of the door, pressing herself against the frame to peer inside.

Her enhanced vision allowed her to take in the details of the room even in the dim light. Hanging on the wall directly opposite the door was a yellowed photograph. The image was faded and mottled, yet one could still vaguely discern a man and a woman huddled together—their eyes deep, their demeanor tranquil. Yun Xian’s heart skipped a beat. Could they be the couple mentioned in the mission?

She suppressed her confusion and scanned the room, her gaze finally settling on the carved wooden bed in the center. The bed was large, and the objects around it were deliberately arranged in a specific pattern—they appeared to be unlit candles. At the head of the bed sat a pitch-black jar, strange runes faintly visible on its rim.

This scene... it felt familiar.

Yun Xian suddenly recalled the books on demons she had seen in the study. One method of summoning a demon involved arranging candles and demon ash in a formation around a "sacrifice," using blood as a catalyst to bring forth an entity imprisoned in the abyss.

The arrangement of the candles in the room was chillingly similar to the formation drawn in the books. But then, who was the "sacrifice"?

Her heart sank. Her gaze darted to the bedside. She saw Song Ran holding Zhang Jingyi’s hand and settling her onto the bed. He then knelt, raised his hand, and bit his fingertip—a bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the wooden floor.

The blood crawled along the grain of the wood, as if drawn by an invisible force, moving in a bizarre fashion until it formed an obscure, indecipherable pattern.

Although the windows were tightly shut, a cold, ghostly wind rose from nowhere, causing the curtains to stir without a sound.

A bone-chilling cold pierced her skin. The surrounding candles ignited on their own, their flames flickering with a sinister, pulsing light. Yun Xian’s heart hammered against her ribs, and her fingers tightened their grip on the doorframe.

At that moment, a mass of black shadow surged abruptly from the mouth of the jar, twisting and deforming wildly in mid-air until it outlined a grotesquely horrific silhouette.

The figure was humanoid yet not human; its limbs were elongated to the point of deformity, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. Though its face was a void of darkness, it gave the distinct impression of being watched.

Zhang Jingyi’s eyes widened on the bed, and a look of undeniable terror instantly washed over her face. It was clear she had not anticipated this.

Her lips trembled as if she meant to scream, but it was as if an invisible hand had clamped down on her throat, stifling any sound. Her body began to shake violently, her limbs rigid; she seemed to want to flee, yet she could not move an inch.

Song Ran stood quietly to the side, witnessing it all, a triumphant smile plastered on his face, his eyes gleaming with fanatical fervor.

The black shadow leaned over toward Zhang Jingyi, flowing like a pool of ink. It twisted without bones, and began to seep, bit by bit, into the mouth Zhang Jingyi had left agape in terror.

Zhang Jingyi struggled in agony, her body arching instinctively, her fingernails digging deep into the bedsheets, but it was all in vain. The shadow flowed into her body with slow, inexorable determination until it was completely absorbed. Her body went stiff, and then—it fell completely still.

A bead of cold sweat broke out on Yun Xian’s temple as she stared fixedly at the motionless Zhang Jingyi. Was she... still alive?

Just as her thoughts were in turmoil, Zhang Jingyi sat up without warning. The expression on her face was no longer one of terror; it was eerily calm.

She lowered her head and rolled her neck, her joints emitting a series of crisp, rhythmic "clicks," as if she were adjusting to this body for the first time. A flicker of something inscrutable passed through her eyes.

Then, she rose stiffly and walked, step by step, toward Song Ran.

Song Ran knelt without a moment’s hesitation, his face filled with reverence.

Zhang Jingyi looked down at him from her height, then bent over, reaching her arm along the edge of the bed to drag out a wooden box hidden beneath it.

The box was secured with an intricate copper latch. She fumbled at her collar for a moment and, from somewhere unknown, produced a tiny key. She inserted it into the keyhole and gave it a light turn—

*Click.* The latch sprang open.

Hidden in the shadows, Yun Xian’s pupils contracted, her heart fluttering in her chest like a frightened bird.

As the lid was slowly lifted, the luster of gold and jewels shimmered in the gloom, reflecting in Song Ran’s greedy eyes. His hands trembled as he took the box, carefully removing a beautifully carved ruby. He rubbed his thumb gently over its smooth surface, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips.

Zhang Jingyi looked down at Song Ran’s display of greed, her expression unfathomable. The next second—

She suddenly raised her head and looked directly toward the spot where Yun Xian was hiding.