THE REAL PROTEGE

"Pharsa, answer me," Ling li hissed, stepping closer, her breath quickened, her palms trembling.

Pharsa blinked rapidly, her lips parted in confusion. "Ling, I was… I was only here. I didn't go anywhere. Just home after we went out for lunch yesterday—" she stammered, her voice edged with unease.

"Ling, what is happening?" she added, voice shaking. Her words hung suspended in the air, thick with tension.

Everyone had gone still. Eyes darted between Ling Li and Pharsa. Even the servants stood frozen, halfway between pouring tea and clearing plates.

Ling Li's chest rose and fell rapidly. Her jaw clenched.

"Pharsa, not just your face..." she said, her voice quiet but slicing through the silence, "Your entire being... is screaming death. You're fully wrapped in death aura — it's clinging to your skin like smoke, crawling along your spine like a shadow with claws."

The hall imploded in shock.

Someone dropped a porcelain dish, and it shattered like punctuation to her words.

Pharsa staggered back, her hand involuntarily clutching her forearm as if the death Ling Li spoke of might suddenly erupt from within.

Old Master Li stood, pale as ash. Chatty clutched the edge of Pharsa's sleeve, eyes wide with helpless panic.

"Madam… then what should we do?" Chatty asked, voice trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

Ling Li stared past them all, pupils dilated, lips slightly parted. She muttered almost inaudibly, "This… this cannot wait. I must consult the heavens."

She turned on her heel, her movements mechanical, stunned — not with fear, but with disbelief. She had consulted the heavens just three days ago. Nothing, no signs, no warnings. How had she missed this?

Pharsa remained rooted, breath shallow, eyes glossy as her gaze followed Ling Li's retreating figure. No one dared speak. The air crackled with invisible dread.

Ling Li's footsteps echoed in the corridor like warning drums.

Whatever was written in the stars, it had already begun unfolding.

Ling Li was halfway down the marble corridor, her mind racing through celestial symbols and lingering doubts, when her phone buzzed sharply in her hand. The sound made her flinch. She checked the screen: Butler Oda.

She answered briskly. "Master, I have an important matter to report," Butler Oda said, voice clipped and laced with unease.

Ling Li's gaze darted toward the gilded doors of her meditation chamber. "I have an urgent matter to attend to. Is this something that couldn't wait?" she replied curtly, already debating whether to dismiss the call.

Butler Oda hesitated a fraction before replying, his voice dropping. "Master… It's about Pharsa."

Ling Li stopped dead in her tracks.

A rush of cold swept through her as she turned slowly, as if gravity itself were reacting to Oda's words.

"Tell me."

"I just received a confidential alert from First Shah," Butler Oda continued, his voice steady but tight. "Pharsa has been targeted by someone known as... Enchanted Dale."

Ling Li's eyes narrowed. Her grip on the phone tightened. "Enchanted Dale? Who is that?" she asked, suspicion curling in her voice.

"He's a mixed-race martial arts practitioner with a history of ritualistic obsession," Butler Oda began. "Recently, we uncovered that he's been seeking three specific women, each forty-two years old, born in the year of the dragon, bearing both wind and water elemental attributes at level five... and most critically, virgins. These criteria align perfectly with Pharsa's profile, Master."

Ling Li's breath caught for half a second. Her heartbeat doubled.

'Indeed, Pharsa perfectly fits all the criteria, and finding one is not an effortless task.' Ling Li silently thought.

"Why is he looking for these women?" She asked.

"The man was advised, by whom we still don't know, that consummating with all three women in a single night and sacrificing them afterward would amplify his elemental gifts beyond mortal limits. His wind and water attributes would become unstoppable and lethal. The ritual is said to unravel celestial bindings and draw divine favor. It's pure madness." Butler Oda explained with a sigh.

A heavy silence fell between them.

Ling Li's expression hardened her face, now a study in fury restrained by control. She exhaled sharply through her nose and snorted. "Gather everything. I want full dossiers —habits, hideouts, associates, anything and everything. I want to know what he eats, when he breathes, and how he intends to die. He's courting death!"

"On it, Master."

She hung up without another word.

Ling Li stared at the dark screen of her phone for a moment longer, her knuckles white around its edges. Her eyes lifted toward the ancestral shrine tucked discreetly in the corner of the corridor — the heavens had remained silent. But now... their silence felt complicit.

'No need to consult the heavens. Evil shows its hand plainly enough.'

She dialed another number. After a single ring, the call was answered. "Mushu, something urgent has come up. Fly over immediately. Delegate what you can to Dane and the five androids. I'll explain the situation once you arrive," Ling Li said.

"Understood, Madam. I'll be on my way."

She turned and strode back toward the dining hall, her steps swift and heavy, her expression unreadable.

Meanwhile, back in the dining hall, the atmosphere remained suffocating. Pharsa hadn't moved, her hands trembling in her lap. Chatty whispered prayers under her breath. Old Master Li stared toward the doorway as if hoping Ling Li's return would somehow rewind time.

But the storm was coming.

And this time, it had a name.

When Ling Li reentered the dining hall, it was as if she'd stepped into a room suspended in time. No one had touched their food. The steam from the congee had long evaporated, and every pair of eyes turned toward her, hearts clenched and throats dry.

She said nothing at first.

Ling Li walked to her seat with measured grace, poured herself a glass of water, and took a slow sip. Her silence was a blade sharpened by tension.

"Ling," Old Master Li asked, his voice gentler now, the corners of his mouth tight with concern. "Have you found anything?"

He and Madam Li watched Pharsa grow up. Though Pharsa wasn't their biological child, the love and anxiety radiating from their expressions made it clear she was family in every way that mattered.

Ling Li set her glass down, fingers lingering on its rim.