Yuchi Lin · Chat

In the thirty-seventh year of Beisheng, as the eleventh lunar month drew to a close, a blizzard raged unabated for nine consecutive days. The world was shrouded in a ghastly pallor. Yet the falling snow carried an indissoluble, eerie chill that bit bone-deep to the touch; wherever it settled upon a rooftop, a heavier shroud of death settled over the household below. In a span of merely twenty days, sixty-three individuals across the capital of Beisheng and its outskirts perished suddenly and mysteriously. Regardless of gender, age, wealth, or status, all victims met their demise in their sleep in the dead of night. There was not a trace of struggle, nor a single sound of crying or screaming. Only when their families called upon them in the morning did they discover the victims had long since ceased breathing—their bodies still faintly warm, heartbeats and pulses entirely stopped, their three ethereal souls and seven corporeal souls drained completely away, leaving behind nothing more than hollow husks. The truth could not be concealed, and the entire capital plunged into a suffocating, dead panic. By day, the streets were barren without a soul in sight. Every household kept doors and windows shut tight, nailing down peach wood, plastering talismans across walls, and stuffing every crevice with black cloth. Even at high noon, interiors remained as dark as night. Everyone held their breath, terrified of making the slightest sound, dreading that they would be the next to die. Nightfall brought an even greater terror. Not a single lamp dared to burn. The frigid wind swept drifts of snow through the alleyways, carrying faint, weeping, sigh-like murmurs. From time to time, slow knocks sounded upon doors—thud, thud, thud—with an unsettling rhythm that lingered endlessly. Yet opening the door revealed no one, only wet, frigid footprints manifesting from thin air upon the snow, tracing their way step by step into the depths of the thick fog. The Imperial Guard was ordered to maintain order, yet in mere days, dozens of soldiers collapsed one after another while on patrol, dying in the exact same manner as the commoners. Pandemonium broke out within the Directorate of Astronomy; all the compasses on the Star-Gazing Platform shattered to pieces. The heavens were pitch-black as ink, with ominous stars eclipsing the moon and not a speck of starlight shining through. Ash-faced, the court astronomers all declared it an omen of yin and yang inverting and heaven's wrath descending upon the world, yet none dared utter a single word on how to break the curse. The entire imperial capital had long since degenerated into a mortal cage, smothered in deathly miasma and rampant dread, without the slightest remnant of its former prosperity. In the subterranean morgue of the Demon Suppression Bureau, untouched by sunlight year-round, the cold was far more piercing than the blizzard outside. Dense, stagnant death energy hung in the air—free of pungent blood, yet reeking of decayed burial soil mingled with a faint trace of curse power, pressing down until one could scarcely breathe. Rows of mortuary slabs stood in neat arrangement, bearing sixty-three corpses lying in silence—all citizens of the capital who had perished suddenly in recent days. Their expressions were serene, as if fast asleep, yet the dead silence lingering around them sent chills down the spine. Yuchi Lin stood beside the central slab. His dark official robes, chilled by the frost, remained impeccably neat without a single crease. His posture was as straight as a pine, his features taut and severe, his lips pressed into a firm line, exuding a solemnity that kept all strangers at bay. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing pale, slender fingers gripping a long, thin silver needle tipped with the Yuchi family's secret evil-testing medicine, meticulously examining the corpse. He first reached out to press lightly against the deceased's neck. The flesh was icy and rigid, with no signs of asphyxiation at the throat, no contusions or bite marks anywhere on the body, and not even a trace of blood. Then, using the silver needle, he slowly parted the collar of the deceased's garment, revealing pale skin covered in hair-thin, dark-green veins. Entangled like spiderwebs and tracing along the meridians, they formed a dense, shocking sight; when lightly touched, the lines squirmed ever so faintly, as if possessed of life. With a deft prick of the silver needle, he pierced the corpse's fingertip. What seeped forth was not crimson blood, but thick, blackened droplets that congealed the moment they hit the ground, releasing an exceedingly faint, unholy fragrance. A single breath of it caused the mind to wander and the soul to tremble. Frowning slightly, Yuchi Lin dipped the needle into cinnabar and tapped the center of the corpse's forehead. A hidden, inky curse seal abruptly surfaced, its intricate, twisted patterns resembling a maw that devoured souls, gleaming with a ghostly, cold luminescence. The wave of curse power surging forth made the surrounding candle flames flicker violently. "No external injuries, no signs of poisoning. The souls have been thoroughly siphoned away, leaving not even a stray fragment behind." Yuchi Lin spoke first. His voice was low and frigid, echoing slowly through the cavernous morgue. Though flat and emotionless, it carried an unquestionable certainty, each word wrapped in frost. He retrieved the silver needle and meticulously wiped it clean with a silk handkerchief. As his gaze swept across the rows of cold bodies, his bottomless eyes were filled with profound solemnity. "When ordinary monsters devour souls, they invariably damage the flesh, leaving behind demonic miasma or trails of blood. Yet these corpses are entirely intact while their souls are obliterated, surrounded only by pure yin curse power. This is definitely not the work of wild fiends." He stepped over to another corpse, that of a child, and brushed his fingertips over the identical curse seal between the child's brows. His fingers tightened slightly, knuckles turning white, his tone growing even heavier. "The curse seals are identical, executed with ruthless precision. The target is every living soul in the city, not any single individual. The mastermind who laid this grand scheme intends far more than merely taking lives." His subordinates stood with bowed heads, not daring to breathe loudly, listening as he continued in a grim voice: "With the blizzard unceasing, the dark mist unyielding, and the curse murders continuing unabated day after day, in less than ten days, not a single living soul will remain in this capital. It will become a city of the dead, abandoned by heaven and earth." Before his words could finish, every candle flame in the morgue flickered in unison. The curse seals upon the foreheads of all sixty-three corpses simultaneously shone with a ghostly glow. Outside, a sudden gale howled, slamming against the doors and windows with dull, heavy booms. Endless dark fog seeped through the cracks, swallowing the entire chamber in complete gloom. Yuchi Lin lifted his gaze toward the gathering mist, his malevolent aura silently coalescing around him. He spoke coldly: "No matter what fiend is responsible, no matter what conspiracy lies hidden, if they dare commit such slaughter within the capital of Beisheng, they had best be prepared to be eradicated." "From this day forth, the Demon Suppression Bureau shall fully activate the Yin-Fiend Array and conduct a comprehensive investigation into the origin of this curse seal. I shall see for myself what manner of creature dares to turn heaven and earth upside down beneath this very capital."