The Water Sons’ Ritual

The nest erupted. Every Renxiao that had been at morning prayers reacted at once, scattering in all directions.

“What happened? Did they spot something?” Li Huowang’s heart lurched. Whatever had changed, the pace was accelerating now.

They moved like the disciples of Qingfeng Temple, and even the layout mimicked a Daoist shrine. Li Huowang wove through the crawling Renxiao, searching for the children.

He stopped abruptly. In this murky, flooded underground, sound was the quickest way to orient yourself. He pulled the cotton plugs from his ears.

Instantly, a torrent of noise slammed into him—the slosh of water, the scrape of Renxiao limbs, the drip-drip of stalactites, a chaos of jarring sounds.

He shut his eyes, straining to pick something out of the mess. Gradually, he caught a human voice. “Uncle?”

“That voice—” He was about to follow it when a baby’s wail cut through the air.

“Found you!” Li Huowang’s eyes snapped open as he sprinted toward the sound.

He splashed through pools and wound through passages until he reached a glowing cavern. The children were there.

A cluster of bent, white-haired elders were tending them with trembling hands. Each child had a red cinnabar dot on its forehead. The same elderly woman from before was there, cradling a baby girl. Her earlier joy was gone, replaced by a look of terrified unease.

There were maybe twenty or thirty children left. In the corner sat several cradles, reeking of rot. What lay inside them needed no explanation.

Urged on by the monk, Li Huowang let his invisibility fade. He lowered his voice. “Don’t panic. Things are about to get chaotic in here. Stay put. I’ll come back for you.”

The old people looked up. Some of their numb eyes flickered with a dim light.

One of them, who looked at least a hundred, raised his cane on trembling arms and croaked, “Sons! Water Sons! Hurry! Someone snuck in!”

That set off a chain reaction. Most of the elders joined in, shouting.

Shink!

Li Huowang’s face contorted with fury as he lunged. His sword swung up, and three gray-haired heads flew into the air.

But even if he killed them all now, it was too late—the Renxiao had already been alerted.

A handful of black glutinous rice, wreathed in smoke, flew into the cave toward Li Huowang.

He twisted aside at the last second. The rice passed through his afterimage and struck an old woman behind him.

She screamed as her flesh dissolved. Within moments, she was nothing but a smoking, white-haired mummy.

“Go!” Li Huowang swung his sword at his own left hand. The freshly grown nails were shaved clean off, spinning out of the cave.

A Renxiao shrieked. Li Huowang shifted his stance, letting his body merge with the shadows again. He vanished.

Soon, Renxiao in black robes crawled into the cave on all fours, searching. They couldn’t find him.

Some of the surviving elders dragged themselves upright and pointed. “Good sons! He’s hiding underneath! He might know the earth-escape art! Watch out!”

A wave of murderous intent flooded Li Huowang’s chest. He had never hated anyone more. Even the Renxiao were less disgusting than these walking corpses.

Hearing the warning, one Renxiao took two withered yellow leaves between its filthy, long-nailed fingers and wiped them across its hair-covered eyes.

A howl like a tormented ghost tore from its throat. All the Renxiao charged at once, armed with black dust, green-encrusted ritual bells, and dark-red peach-wood swords.

“Nan Ling Na Zhen Guang Ji Ji She!” Li Huowang’s bronze-coin sword split apart as the red cords yanked. It lashed out like a whip, striking the Renxiao.

In the cramped, shadowy cave, blades and sorcery clashed in a frenzy.

Li Huowang was pinned between two Renxiao when another one tried to flank him, holding an umbrella covered in purple talismans as a shield.

He heard it. He spun. In one motion, the bronze mask over his face was pushed aside as a mass of black tentacles erupted and slammed into the Renxiao’s face, tearing off half its skull.

At the same time, the red strings of his coin sword looped around the necks of several Renxiao. He yanked.

Heads thudded to the ground.

Li Huowang kept wounding himself, and the Renxiao kept falling. They were no match for him.

Realizing they were losing, the Renxiao changed tactics.

An incense burner made from an old man’s skull was set on the ground. Three pale-white candles were lined up in a row. The black-headed Renxiao that had led the morning prayers scrambled to its feet.

It shoved several squirming pills into its mouth, then began pacing a ritual step with its twisted, malformed feet. It drew a peach-wood sword with a black talisman attached and started the ritual.

The incantation that came from its mouth was not human. The words were slurred, barely intelligible, yet they rose and fell with a strange, rhythmic cadence.

A blind, crooked-mouthed monster with contorted limbs, chanting a spell like a man. The sight was terror itself.

But even more terrifying was the fact that Li Huowang had no idea what ritual it was performing. One thing was certain: he could not let it finish.

He kicked off the ground, charging at the chanting Renxiao. The Purple-Tasseled Sword came out. He swung it at his left hand.

Two fingers were sliced clean off, spinning through the air like bone darts.

Clang, clang. Other Renxiao intercepted them.

The chanting Renxiao saw Li Huowang closing in. It flipped backward, planting two black banners into the ground on either side of him. Then it drove its smoke-wreathed peach-wood sword into the earth.

Dark energy surged into the ground. A circular formation made of strange, arcane characters began taking shape, spreading outward from Li Huowang like a living web.