Jinghui's feet moved before his mind caught up, following the stream of panicked students through the stone corridors.

  The temple's usually peaceful halls had transformed into a river of chaos: gray-robed disciples shoving past each other, some crying, others shouting instructions that nobody seemed to hear. The descent alarm continued its wailing, each pulse making his bones vibrate with urgency.

  "Stay together!" Master Hong's voice carried over the mayhem, his Sect Mastery Realm cultivation allowing him to project his words directly into everyone's minds. "The emergency chambers are this way! Do not separate from your groups!"

  But staying together was easier said than done.

  The corridor narrowed at certain points, creating bottlenecks where students pressed against each other like cattle being herded through a gate. Jinghui felt someone's elbow dig into his ribs, another person's foot crushing his toes. The air grew thick with the smell of fear-sweat and the sharp tang of activated formations beginning to power up throughout the temple.

  Yu Ganglie's hand found his shoulder, steadying him. "Just keep moving," his friend said, though Jinghui could hear the tremor in his voice. "The chambers are just ahead."

  The emergency chamber appeared before them like a promise of salvation, a massive circular room carved directly into the mountain's heart. Ancient formations covered every surface, their geometric patterns glowing with soft golden light that intensified with each passing second. The script was older than the temple itself, supposedly carved by the founding masters who'd experienced a descent firsthand and lived through the possession to figure out a way to protect against it.

  Students poured through the entrance, immediately taking positions on designated meditation mats arranged in concentric circles. Each mat connected to the greater formation network, designed to create an impenetrable spiritual barrier against possession. The theory was simple: otherworldly beings needed a host to survive in their realm, and the formations would block any spirit beings from entering, and even if they were somehow able to get through, it would make their souls too slippery to grasp, like trying to hold water with open fingers.

  Master Hong stood at the formation's center, his hands moving through complex seals that made the golden light pulse brighter. "Everyone, assume meditation position! The barrier will activate in thirty seconds!"

  Jinghui found an empty mat near the outer ring and dropped onto it, his legs automatically folding into lotus position after years of practice. The formation beneath him felt warm, almost alive, its energy beginning to seep into his meridians like honey flowing through his spiritual channels.

  "What's happening?" a young girl near him whispered. She couldn't have been more than eleven, her training robes still crisp and new.

  "It's a descent," an older student replied, his voice trying to sound confident despite the tremor in it. "Beings from beyond our world. They try to possess us, take our bodies for their evil purposes."

  The girl's eyes widened in terror. Jinghui wanted to offer some comfort, but what could he say? He was just as frightened.

  That's when it hit him.

  He stood up, scanning the dozens of faces in the chamber. Gray robes, frightened expressions, some students he recognized, others he didn't, but not the one face he was looking for.

  "Yu Ganglie?" His voice came out as a croak, barely audible over the continued alarm and the humming of the formations. He stood up, ignoring the formation's pull trying to keep him seated. "Yu Ganglie!"

  Master Hong's eyes snapped to him. "Young Cao, sit down! The barrier is about to—"

  "My friend isn't here!" Jinghui was already moving toward the entrance, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Yu Ganglie got separated! I have to find him!"

  "The formations are sealing!" Master Hong's voice carried real alarm now. "If you leave, you won't be able to return!"

  Jinghui hesitated for exactly one heartbeat. Yu Ganglie had been there for him through every nightmare, every moment of weakness, every day when the weight of his brother's crime threatened to crush him. His friend had never asked for anything in return, never judged him for the hatred that burned in his chest like poison.

  His feet carried him through the entrance just as the golden barrier snapped into place behind him, sealing with a sound like a thousand locks clicking shut simultaneously.

  The corridor outside felt eerily empty after the chaos of moments before. Everyone had found their emergency chambers, leaving only Jinghui and the echo of his own rapid breathing. The descent alarm had stopped, replaced by an ominous silence that made every footstep sound like thunder.

  "Yu Ganglie!" He ran through the halls, checking every room, every alcove. The dining hall stood empty, tables still set with half-eaten breakfast. The training grounds were deserted, practice weapons scattered where they'd been dropped. "Where are you?"

  A memory surfaced, during evacuation drills, Yu Ganglie had mentioned that the eastern tower also had an emergency chamber, smaller than the main one but just as protected. If they'd gotten separated in the crowd, if Yu Ganglie had been pushed in the wrong direction...

  Jinghui sprinted toward the eastern tower, his Inner Pulse Realm cultivation barely enough to maintain the pace. His inferior martial talent meant even running at full speed taxed his spiritual reserves more than it should. By the time he reached the tower's base, sweat soaked through his robes and his lungs burned like he'd been breathing fire.

  The emergency chamber door stood open, golden light spilling out into the corridor. Relief flooded through him as he recognized Yu Ganglie's stocky silhouette among the two dozen students inside.

  "Yu Ganglie!" He started forward, but just as his foot crossed the threshold, the formations flared to life. An invisible wall slammed into existence, sending him tumbling backward onto the stone floor.

  Yu Ganglie spun around, his eyes widening with horror when he saw Jinghui sprawled in the corridor. He rushed to the barrier, pressing his palms against the invisible wall. "Jinghui! What are you doing out there?"

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  "I came looking for you!" Jinghui scrambled to his feet, his own hands meeting Yu Ganglie's through the barrier. He could see his friend's lips moving, could see the panic in his eyes, but the formation muffled all sound from within.

  He pounded on the barrier with both fists, achieving nothing except bruising his hands. The formation was designed to withstand attacks from beings far more powerful than a teenage Inner Pulse Realm cultivator. It would hold until the masters deactivated it, whenever the descent ended.

  If he survived that long.

  Yu Ganglie was shouting something, pointing frantically over Jinghui's shoulder. Jinghui turned to look out the tower's window and felt his blood turn to ice.

  The sky was falling.

  No, not the sky itself, but two lights were descending through it like falling stars.

  They moved with purpose, spiraling down toward the temple grounds, each one burning with its own distinct color. One blazed white-hot, while the other flickered with shadows that seemed to swallow light.

  The first curved toward the western quarters where the senior disciples trained.

  The other came straight for the eastern tower.

  Jinghui pressed himself against the wall as the light, dark purple shot through with veins of black, slammed into the emergency chamber's barrier. The entire tower shook from the impact, dust raining from the ceiling as ancient stones groaned in protest. The purple light rebounded, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape that hovered just outside the window.

  The figure tried again, hurling itself at the barrier with enough force to crack the window's frame. But the formation held, golden light flaring brighter with each impact, drawing on the collective spiritual energy of everyone inside to maintain its defense.

  After the third failed attempt, the figure pulled back, and Jinghui got his first clear look at it.

  The being appeared to be made of condensed shadow given form, its features constantly shifting like smoke in wind. But there was intelligence in those dark depths, a consciousness examining the barrier with what almost looked like surprise.

  "What the hell?" The figure's voice carried despite having no visible mouth, the words forming directly in Jinghui's mind. It looked down at its shadowy form, and Jinghui could swear he heard genuine confusion in its tone. "This isn't right. The projection shouldn't look like this..."

  Then those shadows that might have been eyes turned toward the corridor, toward Jinghui pressed against the wall trying to make himself invisible.

  The figure moved faster than Jinghui's eyes could track. One moment it hovered outside the window, the next it floated directly in front of him, close enough that he could feel the cold radiating from its form. Not the natural cold of winter, but something that seemed to drain warmth from existence itself.

  Jinghui scrambled backward, his back hitting the wall. "Get away! Stay back!"

  "Easy there." The figure raised what might have been hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to borrow your body for a little while."

  "Borrow my…no! Absolutely not!" Jinghui's voice cracked with panic. Every story he'd ever heard about descents involved the possessed either dying horribly or being transformed into something unrecognizable. "Find someone else!"

  "I don't have a lot of options here." The spirit gestured at the sealed emergency chamber where Yu Ganglie still pounded soundlessly on the barrier. "Everyone else is locked up tight, and I've got a tournament to win. A few days, that's all I need. Then you get your body back, good as new."

  "You think I'm stupid?" Jinghui tried to edge along the wall toward the stairway, but the spirit moved to block him without seeming to move at all. "I know what happens to people who get possessed. Their souls get consumed, or corrupted, or—"

  "That's demons you're thinking of," the spirit interrupted, sounding almost offended. "I'm a cultivator, just like you. Well, not exactly like you, but the principle's the same. This is just a spiritual projection; I couldn't consume your soul even if I wanted to, which I don't, because that would be incredibly rude and also probably bad for my karma."

  Jinghui stared at the being, his mind struggling to process this bizarrely casual conversation with an otherworldly entity. "You're... a cultivator?"

  "From another realm, yeah. Look, we're wasting time here. How about this, in exchange for letting me borrow your body, I'll give you power. Real power, not the scraps you've been struggling with."

  The word 'power' hit Jinghui like a physical blow. His whole body went still, his racing heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears. "Power?"

  "I can sense your cultivation; your martial talent is..." The spirit paused, as if searching for a polite way to phrase it. "Limited. I can change that. Open meridians you didn't even know you had, teach you techniques that would take decades to learn on your own."

  Jinghui's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Power. Real power. The kind his brother had gained from the Crimson Fist Clan, the kind that let someone kill their own parents with a casual loss of control.

  "Would it be enough?" His voice came out low, intense. "Would it be enough to kill someone at the Sect Mastery Realm? Someone who's mastered the Crimson Fist techniques?"

  The spirit tilted what might have been its head. "Sect Mastery Realm? I'm not familiar with the cultivation stages here, but I can sense what you're asking. You want power to defeat someone stronger than you, someone who's had years of advanced training."

  "Yes, you swear it?" Jinghui took a step forward, surprising himself with his sudden boldness. "You swear on your cultivation that you'll give me the power to kill my brother, Cao Mingshan?"

  "Your brother?" The spirit sounded curious now. "Huh. Family drama. Look, I'll be honest with you; I can't just hand you instant power to defeat someone who's been cultivating for years. That's not how cultivation works." The spirit paused, seeming to consider. "But what I can do is give you the potential to grow far stronger than you ever could alone."

  "That's not what I—"

  "Anyone promising you instant power to kill a master cultivator is lying to you,” the spirit interrupted. “But I can give you something real. A foundation that'll let you surpass him eventually, if you're willing to put in the work afterward. That's the best anyone can offer you, and it's more than you've got now."

  Jinghui went silent as he considered the offer. He'd spent around ten years at the Iron Body Temple, pretending to embrace their teachings while nursing his hatred. Ten years of making minimal progress, watching other students surge past him, knowing that at his current rate he'd be an old man before he reached the Heartsteel Realm, let alone Sect Mastery.

  His brother was out there somewhere, probably already advancing toward Heaven-Breaking Realm with the Crimson Fist Clan's blood techniques accelerating his growth. Every day Jinghui delayed was another day Cao Mingshan grew stronger, another day his parents' spirits went unavenged.

  He'd told himself he would do anything for revenge. Anything. Even if it meant deceiving kind Master Hong and the temple that had sheltered him. Even if it meant betraying everything the Iron Body philosophy stood for.

  Was selling his soul to a mysterious spirit really any worse?

  "My friend," Jinghui said, gesturing toward the emergency chamber where Yu Ganglie still watched with horror. "You won't hurt him? Or anyone else in the temple?"

  "I'm here for a tournament, not a massacre. Your people will be fine."

  Jinghui closed his eyes, seeing his parents' faces one more time. His mother's gentle smile. His father's patient instructions. The way they'd looked in death, eyes empty, blood pooling beneath them.

  "Do it," he whispered.

  The spirit smiled, somehow, despite having no fixed features, Jinghui knew it was smiling. Then it surged forward, and cold darkness flooded every cell of his being.

  The last thing Jinghui experienced with his own senses was Yu Ganglie's terrified face through the barrier, mouth open in a silent scream.

  Then someone else opened his eyes.

  The spirit flexed Jinghui's fingers experimentally, rolled his shoulders, took a few test steps. The movement felt different from how Jinghui normally moved, they were more fluid, more confident, like someone accustomed to absolute control over their physical form.

  "Not exactly what I planned," the spirit murmured with Jinghui's voice, examining his new hands with interest. "But it'll do."

  Comment below why you think Ke Yin's spiritual manifestation appears demonic in this realm

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