THE REAL PROTEGE

The glass hissed but did not crack. Instead, ripples formed — not in the surface, but in the air around him. Dale's eyes flared with unnatural brightness. His hands clenched.

"She was masked…" he growled. "Someone folded her essence. A powerful cultivator."

He turned, storming to his altar. His breath came faster, fury laced with desperation.

"That girl was the key. The first convergence." Enchanted Dlae's voice trembled now, rage barely restrained. "I waited twenty years… she fit every thread…"

He threw a porcelain charm against the wall. It shattered, and a black puff of smoke slithered toward the rafters.

His remaining offerings began to decay — flower petals browned instantly, and the spirits he'd bound writhed in agitation.

Then… silence.

Dale froze, a cruel smile inching across his face.

"So be it. If I cannot see her…" His voice grew dark, almost possessed. "…then I will make them see me."

===========

Back at the Li Estate, beneath the jade eaves of the meditation pavilion…

Ling Li sat across from Shinsei, both cloaked in twilight robes. The candle between them sputtered, though the air was still.

Pharsa's sealing ritual had ended only hours ago, but the spiritual atmosphere still crackled with energy.

Shinsei's brow remained furrowed as he sifted through omens inscribed on the parchment scrolls he'd drawn earlier. His fingers hovered above one —then hesitated.

Ling Li watched him closely.

"You're unsettled," she said. Her voice was quiet, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

Shinsei nodded. "The spell was effective. Her aura is masked. She's safe… for now."

"But?" Ling Li asked.

Shinsei looked up. His eyes, normally serene, glinted like deep river stones under moonlight.

"But he felt it. Dale may not know what happened, but he knows something shifted. Rituals like his are not built only on energy —they're built on obsession. And obsession does not die quietly."

Ling Li's jaw tightened. She reached for the scroll, brushing his fingertips. Her own spiritual sense surged beneath her skin.

She closed her eyes.

The symbols pulsed faintly — then surged, glowing not red but violet.

Her eyes opened in alarm. "A celestial backlash?"

Shinsei nodded gravely.

"It means the stars are resisting Dale's desires. But also... they've awakened to him."

Ling Li leaned back, her mind spinning.

"We've prevented the first sacrifice. But we've triggered the next chapter."

A rustle stirred behind them — bamboo leaves shifting, though no wind blew. Shinsei turned toward the sound, eyes sharp.

Ling Li rose slowly. "We'll need more than rituals now."

Shinsei stood, his robes settling like mist around his feet.

"We need alliances. We need warriors. And we need to prepare your daughters." He nodded toward the courtyard where Kim Kim and Chin Chin slept beneath protective charms, unaware of the storm brewing.

Ling Li's lips parted — soft, uncertain.

"They're still so young."

Shinsei met her gaze.

"Then teach them fast."

The ceremonial chamber was dim now, bathed in candlelight and the scent of camphor and cedar. Shadows danced along the stone walls like ancestral spirits bearing witness.

"We should proceed with the wedding and the consummation," Shinsei said, his tone firm but gentle, like a monk instructing fate itself.

Pharsa stood frozen for a beat, then stepped closer.

Her small hands reached for the worn folds of his robe, clutching the sleeves with desperation — the same way she had gripped them as a child during cold monsoon nights, fearing the thunder.

"Father…" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Shinsei turned to her fully now. His gaze softened as he looked into the frightened eyes of the girl he had found in a basket wrapped in temple cloth, her cries echoing beneath dragon bells. He had raised her, protected her, and taught her mantras before she could walk. She still called him "Father" even after her adoption into the Li family — a name he bore with quiet pride.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone almost paternal.

Pharsa's grip tightened. She couldn't mask the tremble in her fingers.

"Is there no other way… other than the wedding and consummation?" she asked, each word dragging a weight behind it — fear, confusion, longing.

For a moment, Shinsei didn't answer. Instead, he raised one hand and lovingly flicked a fingertip across her forehead.

"You are still as stubborn as before." His voice was filled with bittersweet affection. "But you must understand — the death aura wrapped around you isn't just a bad omen. It's a signal. A flag to those who walk between dimensions and rites. It means you're being watched… studied… hung in spiritual stasis. The person who targeted you is not simple."

Pharsa blinked.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Her breath hitched. Her chest rose and fell quickly, shallow from the sudden revelation.

She had always feared the dreams — the cold hands in them, the invisible eyes. But now, she knew they weren't just shadows of trauma… they were warnings.

"They're only waiting for the right moment, child," Shinsei continued softly. "One misstep. One second of isolation. And they'll strike."

Pharsa swallowed hard. Her body remained still, but her mind raced. Her gaze drifted toward the copper seals etched into the floor. Toward the whispering winds outside the temple walls. Toward Chatty's voice earlier, promising gentleness, promising safety.

And suddenly, the silence wasn't suffocating. It was anchoring.

Later that night, Pharsa sat alone beneath the ceremonial banyan tree, moonlight filtering through its leaves like silver lace across her skin. The evening wind carried distant chants from the courtyard, where monks prepared the altar with careful urgency. Incense smoke curled in the air, but all she could smell was uncertainty.

She rubbed her palms slowly together, fingertips tingling with a heat she couldn't shake —whether from spiritual pressure or emotional unrest, she couldn't tell.

Footsteps approached softly. Ling Li entered, dressed in sapphire ritual robes lined with protective talismans that had been stitched by hand. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes held centuries of wisdom and maternal ache.

Pharsa didn't turn. She whispered, "Do I really have to give away everything just to survive?"

Ling Li lowered herself beside her, letting the silence hold weight.

"It's not about giving away," she said gently. "It's about taking control of what others would steal. Your body, your essence —it's yours. You choose how to protect it. No ceremony will change that unless you let it."