Within the icy stone chamber, only the deep, labored breaths of the Great Warlock could be heard. The Ghost King and Ghostly Edge stood before the enfeebled elder, their eyes fixed intently on his aged face. At this moment, the frail life still clinging to the Great Warlock was the last vestige of hope for the two men.
As the Great Warlock’s breathing steadied, he lifted his head and offered a smile to the two men, which brought a small measure of relief to the Ghost King and Ghostly Edge. After a moment of contemplation, the Great Warlock spoke to the Ghost King, “Please, My Lord, fetch some blood. For the ‘Soulcall’ ritual, blood is the ideal catalyst.”
A slight frown crossed Ghostly Edge’s face, but the Ghost King nodded without hesitation. “It can be done,” he declared. As he turned to leave, he paused and turned back, a question forming in his mind. “Great Master, does it matter if the blood is from a beast or a human?”
The Great Warlock hesitated, casting an additional glance at the Ghost King, but answered, “Beast blood will suffice, but human blood yields the best results.”
With a nod, the Ghost King made his way to the door, where Azure Dragon, Dark Maiden, and the black-robed figure known as the Phantom Sage stood. The sudden appearance of the Ghost King surprised Azure Dragon and Dark Maiden, but the Ghost King did not spare them a glance. Instead, he addressed the Phantom Sage, “Bring me a basin of fresh human blood.”
Azure Dragon and Dark Maiden exchanged a stunned look, but the Phantom Sage merely nodded and departed. The Ghost King then returned to the chamber, where the air felt oddly charged. Ghostly Edge remained silent, gazing at the form of Biyao lying upon the cold stone slab, then turned his gaze to the closed-eyed Great Warlock, and finally to the Ghost King, who appeared unaffected, his eyes calmly resting on Biyao, with occasional glances towards Ghostly Edge that were fleeting and unobtrusive.
A knock sounded on the stone door, and the Phantom Sage entered, carrying a copper basin filled with blood. He placed it before the Great Warlock and nodded to the Ghost King before leaving silently.
The vibrant red liquid sloshed gently within the basin, and a pungent, metallic scent filled the chamber. Ghostly Edge’s eyes twitched slightly, and he cast a profound glance at the Ghost King, who, unfazed, directed his words to the Great Warlock. “Great Master, the blood you requested is here.”
The Great Warlock opened his eyes, gazing at the basin of blood, and after a long, silent moment, sighed softly. “Very well, let us begin.”
—
With a feeble effort, the Great Warlock struggled to rise, his body swaying as he did so. Ghostly Edge stepped forward to support him, and the Great Warlock, though weak, smiled bitterly and allowed himself to be helped.
The old man reached into his robes, retrieving a peculiar red quill, about the size of a thumb, with a handle adorned by a dog’s head. The quill bore strange, arcane symbols etched into its surface. At the tip, a tuft of fine, darkened hairs was embedded, clearly stained with countless past rituals.
Holding the quill, the Great Warlock took a deep breath. With Ghostly Edge’s assistance, he dipped the quill into the blood, letting the droplets fall silently into the basin, creating ripples that spread out across the surface.
Held firmly by Ghostly Edge, the Great Warlock approached the stone slab where Biyao lay, beginning to draw intricate patterns on the ground. The bright crimson lines gradually extended across the floor, the hand of the Great Warlock trembling slightly as he drew. The air grew tense, and the atmosphere seemed to grow heavier.
The Ghost King watched for a while, then quietly moved to the basin, lifting it and placing it closer to the Great Warlock. The Great Warlock acknowledged him with a nod, continuing his work.
More and more blood-drawn symbols appeared around Biyao, forming a complex, eerie array. The quill, a mystical tool, absorbed the blood and left no trace of spatter, as if each line was a boundary, containing the lifeblood within.
As the Great Warlock’s breathing grew heavier, the blood patterns on the floor became more intricate. Some resembled beasts and birds, others were more abstract, all interconnected and distinct. The color of the blood on the floor, strangely, appeared even more vivid than when it was first brought in.
The air grew thick with the scent of blood, and the only sound in the chamber was the Great Warlock’s laborious breathing. The blood patterns started from Biyao’s left shoulder and expanded, forming a large, elliptical circle around her, save for a small area near her head.
The Ghost King again moved the basin, placing it on the floor, and the ritual was nearly complete. The interconnected, glowing blood patterns resembled a network of rivers, the blood flowing like a living entity, circulating endlessly.
—
The red patterns on the floor coalesced, and the Great Warlock’s hand, trembling, could barely hold the quill. Ghostly Edge, supporting the elder, could feel the pain and exhaustion radiating from his body. The Great Warlock’s breathing had become hoarse, his forehead damp with sweat.
With a final, shaky stroke, the last symbol was drawn, completing the array. The quill fell from his hand with a soft thud, and the Great Warlock’s body slumped. Ghostly Edge’s heart skipped a beat, and a wave of fear coursed through him. He held the Great Warlock more firmly, noticing the elder’s ashen face and labored breathing.
Ghostly Edge’s own forehead was damp with sweat, and the Ghost King, too, exhaled a long, relieved breath. Both men, despite their strength and power, were deeply affected by the sight of the dying warlock.
The Great Warlock’s breathing slowly steadied, and he nodded to Ghostly Edge, indicating that he should help him sit down. Ghostly Edge, worried but resigned, helped the Great Warlock to sit atop the stone slab, facing the completed blood array.
The Great Warlock took a deep breath, looking at the array. The blood, seemingly animated, flowed in a continuous, self-sustaining cycle. Ghostly Edge and the Ghost King exchanged a look, both awed by the display of power.
The Great Warlock, with a withered hand, picked up the quill and held it upright, the blood-stained tip pointing downward. The blood dripped, merging into the river of blood below. The Great Warlock, with a focused gaze, watched as the blood flowed, the quill slowly sinking into the ground.
The atmosphere in the chamber grew eerie, and the blood flow accelerated, accompanied by a faint, rising hiss. The blood and the white mist from the stone slab merged, enveloping Biyao’s body.
The Great Warlock began to chant, his voice low and resonant. His lips, dry and cracked, uttered strange, melodic incantations. His hands, moving in a slow, rhythmic motion, formed claws in the air.
The hissing sound grew louder, and the blood flow surged, waves of ghostly energy emanating from the array. Suddenly, the Great Warlock let out a sharp cry, his clawed hands plunging into the blood river.
At that moment, the Ghost King and Ghostly Edge felt as if the chamber had vanished, replaced by a vast, empty void. Ghostly wails echoed from all directions, and a brilliant red light burst forth from the array, filling the chamber. Shadows of tormented spirits and beasts, unable to escape the red light, writhed and thrashed, trapped within the array.
The chamber returned to its previous state, and the Ghost King and Ghostly Edge realized that the “Soulcall” ritual had temporarily bridged the gap between the living world and the nether realms, capturing countless spirits and confining them in the array.
The Great Warlock’s face, now pale, revealed his dire condition. The Ghost King and Ghostly Edge, hearts pounding, prayed for the Great Warlock to endure. The spirits and shadows in the array, realizing their captivity, turned to the Great Warlock, screaming in rage.
Ignoring the spirits, the Great Warlock’s eyes locked onto the Soul Charm in Biyao’s hand. With a sudden motion, he raised his arms, his left hand forming a claw and his right hand forming a peculiar, symbolic gesture. The Soul Charm resonated, emitting a clear, melodious chime, and rose into the air, emitting a soft golden glow.
The spirits, compelled by an unseen force, surged towards the floating Soul Charm, attacking it with ferocity. The blood in the array shimmered, and the Great Warlock’s face, against all odds, regained a hint of color. His voice, powerful and commanding, recited the incantation:
“Departed soul, leave the body,
Nine souls return.
From the Nine Hells, the spirits come!”
The room was filled with a blinding red light, and the Ghost King and Ghostly Edge felt themselves surrounded by the void once more. The spirits, freed from the array, danced and writhed, and nine wisps of smoke emerged from the Soul Charm, gradually forming a recognizable shape.
Ghostly Edge, trembling, dug his nails into his flesh, oblivious to the blood that trickled down. The wisps of smoke, one by one, merged into a single, cohesive form.
The Great Warlock, his face flushed, continued his chant, his voice strong and resolute:
“Three souls, seven poises,
United as one.
The spirit returns,
The soul is whole!”
As he spoke, the nine wisps of smoke merged into the Soul Charm, gradually taking on a human form. The Ghost King, too, felt a surge of excitement, but the Great Warlock’s face, now pale and strained, trembled.
His voice, faltering, tried to finish the incantation, “The spirit is whole,
All souls in place.
Spirit and body…”
But the word “unite” died in his throat, and his voice became a mere whisper.
The Ghost King and Ghostly Edge’s faces drained of color. The red light in the array flickered, and with a loud explosion, the light dispersed, and the spirits vanished. The two men rushed to the Great Warlock, but his head, still held aloft, slowly, inexorably, sagged.
They could hear the Great Warlock’s last, muffled words, “Ninth hell… most… yin… not… this…”
His voice faded, and the Great Warlock’s head came to rest on his chest, lifeless. The two men, stricken with disbelief, stared at the scene. The red light faded, the blood flow stilled, and the blood pooled on the floor, no longer bound by the array.
The Soul Charm, now devoid of the wisps, settled back into Biyao’s hands, and a silence, as heavy as the deepest abyss, descended over the chamber.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage