Bei Xiwen's altar erupted in green flames, the jade runes melting into molten slag as her scream tore through her Pudong temple's cavernous depths. The subterranean sanctum, carved beneath Shanghai's neon skyline, trembled, fox sigils pulsing wildly, reflecting her unraveling control. Huo Jingran had survived the HuoTech vault, claiming the Jade Protocol Core's heart—her ley line key—and now ran toward Zhabei, dodging constructs like a cursed heroine. Xiwen's ritual to bind Shanghai's tech grid was crumbling, Meilin's X videos backfiring into Jingran's legend, and Lu Mingxu's betrayal—his texts to Jingran—lit a fire no spell could douse.
"She's a disease!" Xiwen roared, her black robe singed at the hem, her amber eyes glowing like her foxes. "I cage her, and she breaks free!"
A soft laugh slithered from the shadows, and Zhao Wenxu emerged, his jade mask tucked under one arm, his suit pristine despite the temple's chaos. "You're loud tonight, Xiwen," he said, voice smooth as silk over steel. "Losing your touch?"
Xiwen's glare could've burned through jade. "Don't test me, Zhao. Your Meilin's a failure—her videos make Jingran a martyr, not a corpse!"
Zhao leaned against a pillar, unfazed, his smile a knife's edge. "Meilin's a tool, not a sculptor. She's carving chaos—Jingran's allies are fraying. Huo Guangli's livid, Teng Haoran's exposed. You'd see it if you weren't screaming."
Xiwen's fingers sparked runes, itching to blast him, but she held back. Zhao's Suzhou clan was her reluctant ally, his resources—spies, tech, secrets—feeding her war. Meilin's latest post—Huo secrets end tonight—was Zhao's script, but its viral spike helped Jingran's fans more, calling her 'Shanghai's Witch' with awe, not fear. The Core's heart, syncing with Jingran's pendant, threatened Xiwen's ley lines, her Bei legacy, everything.
"Chaos isn't enough," Xiwen hissed, pacing to the cracked altar. "She's in Zhabei—north, running. Her seal's stronger, her runes sharper. I need her dead."
Zhao's eyes glinted, calculating. "Dead's messy. The Core's the prize—her pendant's tied to it. Take it, break her later. She's weak—vault fight bled her."
Xiwen paused, the altar's flames dimming. Zhao was right—Jingran's mana drain, her wounds, left her vulnerable. Zhabei's slums were a maze, perfect for an ambush, but Mingxu's defection complicated things. His warning to Jingran—Vault's not safe—reached her spies, and his Zhabei signal screamed trouble. She'd sent a construct to his safehouse, but it wasn't enough.
"Mingxu," Xiwen muttered, her voice venom. "He's turned—helping her."
Zhao shrugged, twirling his mask. "Lu's always been slippery. Cut him loose—or use him. He's in Zhabei, chasing her. Bait, maybe."
Xiwen's lips curled, a plan forming. Mingxu's tech-sorcery was her creation, his Lu clan blood her leash—until now. She'd flood Zhabei with constructs, trap Jingran and Mingxu together, let them tear each other apart. The Core's heart would be hers, the seal hers, Shanghai hers.
She knelt at the altar, chanting low, runes flaring red. A new fox formed—six-tailed, massive, its fur crackling with ley line sparks. "Hunt them," she whispered, binding it to Zhabei. The temple shook, stones cracking, and the mirror flickered—Jingran's signal, faint but moving, Teng Haoran's shadow beside her.
Zhao watched, amused. "Six tails? You're not subtle, Xiwen."
"Subtle's for losers," she snapped, rising. "You're with me—Zhabei, now. I want her pendant, her blood, her end."
He bowed, mockingly. "As you wish. But Meilin's ready—new video, nastier. Drops when Jingran's down."
Xiwen ignored him, focusing the mirror—Zhabei's fog, Jingran's seal glowing, Mingxu's signal converging. Her ritual faltered, ley lines glitching, and her chest tightened—failure was death, her mother's voice screaming, Bei rule, or rot. She'd lost the vault, the Bund, but Zhabei would be hers.
"Jingran," she hissed, touching the mirror, her reflection twisting with fox eyes. "You're mine."
Her burner phone buzzed, a blank screen flashing: Fire spreads, Bei. Ashes choke. No sender, no trace.
Xiwen's hand froze, runes fading. The same shadow—Roots deepen from before—haunting her. Not Zhao, not Mingxu, not Meilin's childish games. Someone deeper, tied to the Protocol, the seal's origins. Her mirror cracked further, and she smashed it, glass raining.
"Who dares?" she roared, but the temple's silence answered, only the six-tailed fox's howl echoing.
Zhao was gone, his absence a taunt. Xiwen summoned another construct—three-tailed, swift—and sent it to scout. Zhabei would burn, and Jingran with it.
Zhabei's fog swallowed Huo Jingran as she ducked into an abandoned factory, the jade seal's glow flickering in her clutch. The vault's five-tailed fox was dust—her runes, Haoran's gun, Lanyi's hack—but her body was a wreck: leg bleeding, back torn, mana drain like a DDoS attack on her brain. Teng Haoran guarded the door, proto-gun sparking, his bloodied arm steady despite pain. Shao Lanyi crouched by a rusted machine, laptop open, tracing the Core's heart—Xiwen's temple, Pudong's depths, their endgame.
"Xiwen's got a fetish for foxes," Jingran panted, leaning against a crate. "Where's my cheat code?"
Haoran's eyes flicked to her, sharp but warm—trouble, always. "You're the cheat code, Jingran. Keep moving."
Lanyi snorted, fingers flying. "Moving? Meilin's X post says you're 'HuoTech's doom.' Viral's an understatement—Shanghai's split, half rooting for you."
Jingran's grin hid pain—Guangli's blame, Qiongyu's ice, Meilin's knife, old wounds. "Split? I'm flattered," she muttered, seal pulsing.
Her pendant blared: Jade Whisper alert: Task—Reach Xiwen's temple, disrupt ritual. Zhabei compromised—Bei constructs converging. Success chance: 54%.
"Fifty-four?" Jingran groaned, dodging a falling pipe. "My loot table's cursed!"
Focus, Host. Seal's runes can counter constructs. Temple route—south, avoid main streets.
"South," Jingran whispered, Mingxu's text—Old factory—ringing true. His signal was close, but that anonymous hit—Closer now—screamed trap. Ally? Enemy? She'd punch first, ask later.
Lanyi's laptop pinged, ley lines mapping. "Temple's deep—Pudong, under towers. Zhabei's crawling, though—big spike, like, boss big."
Haoran's gun hummed, catching a shadow. "Mingxu's here. Or worse."
Jingran's lips curled, fierce. "Worse? I'm the worst thing in this fog."
Her phone buzzed—Mingxu: Factory, now. Then another, anonymous: No escape, Huo.
Her blood chilled, but she laughed, sharp. "Popular tonight," she said, seal flaring. A memory hit—HuoTech, Mingxu whispering, They'll kill for it—and her gut twisted. Her family's sorcery ran deeper than Meilin's shade.
The factory's roof groaned, and a roar—six-tailed, massive—shook the walls. Jingran raised the seal, runes blazing. "Xiwen's gone full raid boss," she quipped, heart racing. "Let's wipe her."