Supernatural Abilities

It was a long while after the two men as sinister as specters from hell had left before the girl, trembling in every limb, slid down the tree trunk to the ground, her heart still gripped by terror.

The name that man had spoken—Qingtan—was her own. The fear of death filled her chest.

She had to escape. She had to leave this place.

There were guards stationed at the main gate; she dared not flee through the entrance. Instead, she crept to the high courtyard wall, tried leaping up, and to her astonishment found her body soared several feet off the ground—her small hands just catching the top of the wall. That strange, weightless sensation lingered, light as a swallow in flight. She didn’t stop to ponder why she suddenly possessed such uncanny abilities; with a gentle push, she vaulted over the wall, landing softly and silently, as light as a feather.

She hid in the shadow at the base of the wall, scanning her surroundings. When she focused, a faint golden gleam flickered in her eyes. There had just been a massacre here; neighbors had all locked their doors early, and the street was deserted. Keeping to the walls, the girl ran on silent feet. At the corner, she paused, turning for one last look at the silent mansion.

From this moment on, her family was forever severed—one side living, the other dead.

All the laughter, affection, and prosperity were now swallowed by the past. The unknown perils ahead and the terror of pursuit behind made her weep in fear, though she dared not make a sound; she choked back her sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She drew her gaze back, forced down her panic, and thought quickly. Even the authorities were colluding with the murderers; no one here could be trusted. Assassins could be lurking in any shadow. She had to flee Jiaozhou Prefecture. Still sobbing, she ran along the streets toward the city gate. Whatever thorns or stones lay ahead, her tender feet would have to brave them alone.

Her night vision allowed her to avoid the patrolling guards. Hiding and moving, she reached the city gate near dawn. The gate was not yet open. She considered climbing the wall using her inexplicable new powers but dismissed the idea; sentry posts lined the walls, lanterns blazing, making it too easy to be seen. In a street corner, she found a pile of broken baskets, crawled inside, and decided to wait until the gates opened, hoping to slip out in the morning rush.

It was late summer, the early autumn wind slipping through the cracks in the baskets, chilling her hands and feet. Luckily, her blood- and rain-soaked clothes had dried; otherwise, she would have frozen. She curled up tight, forming a small bundle. With the bamboo baskets overhead and silence all around, she finally felt a sliver of safety.

In the stillness, the horrors of the past day and night replayed in her mind, and she began to cry again. In her sorrow, she remembered the strange abilities that had appeared. Resting her chin on her arms, she furrowed her brow and tried to piece together what had happened.

The masked men had tried to kill her; her mother had shielded her with her body. The blade had struck down, piercing her mother and her own chest. At the memory, her chest throbbed in pain. She instinctively clutched at it, but the pain vanished quickly—clearly only a memory. She looked down at her chest. The clothes at the supposed wound were torn by a blade, the upper part soaked through with blood and rain, now stained a dirty brown. She slipped her fingers into the tear—her skin underneath was smooth and unbroken. No wound.

Had her mother taken the entire blow, leaving her unharmed?

But then, what of the dreadful pain she remembered? She pressed on, but her memory was blank at that point. She must have fainted. Her next memory was waking up in excruciating, unimaginable agony, as if she’d been rolling in the pits of hell for a century.

Now, her body bore not a single scratch. Pressing her chest and stomach, she felt no internal damage. So where had that terrible pain come from? She could not understand.

Afterward, when she’d run into the courtyard, the night rain should have made it pitch dark, yet she had seen everything clearly and had found her mother’s body without difficulty. She’d also discovered she was as light as a feather, her hands gripping surfaces like suction cups, and she was now able to climb better than a monkey.

She had once been a perfectly ordinary girl, but since waking from that faint, she had gained night vision and climbing abilities—two strange new powers.

Could something have happened while she was unconscious? No matter how she racked her brain, her memory of that time was a complete blank. As dawn broke, exhaustion finally claimed her, and she drifted into a light sleep.

In her brief slumber, she dreamed. The terrors of reality invaded her dream—murder, blood, rain, pain—filling every corner, leaving her no escape. Just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, a pair of enormous golden eyes appeared, their vertical pupils cold and fierce, belonging to some beast or demon. Strangely, she felt no fear at those frightening eyes; instead, she felt safe, her terror vanishing. She tried to see their owner but beheld only formless chaos. She reached toward the eyes, took a single step—and woke abruptly.

She was startled awake by voices, her nerves so frayed she nearly leapt up in fright. Panic swept over her until she realized the city gate was about to open, and early travelers were gathering to wait.

As the heavy gates slowly swung open, a rider galloped up, and the officer on horseback shouted orders to the guards: “There’s been a murder in the city—check everyone entering or leaving with care! Also, a household has reported a missing girl of about [age], suspected to have been abducted by traffickers. Any girl of about that age leaving the city is to be taken to the magistrate’s office for identification before being released!”

The guards answered in unison but grumbled inwardly. The previous night, the entire Zhou family—who had run the century-old “Immortal Herb Hall”—had been massacred, over a hundred lives lost in one night. The city was filled with the stench of blood; everyone knew of it, and all lived in fear. Now, with these two orders, it almost seemed the missing girl was a more serious matter than the massacre. It must be an official’s daughter, they guessed.

Hiding in her pile of broken baskets, Qingtan heard every word. The so-called “girl abducted by traffickers” was surely herself. Since it was an official order, the one behind it could only be the magistrate who had appeared at the scene in the middle of the night.

Extermination—so ruthless.

Hatred burned into Qingtan’s young face. If anyone had seen her eyes at that moment, they would have noticed a fierce golden light blazing in them.

Magistrate, you must live well. You are the only clue to the enemy who annihilated my family. One day, I will return for you.

The city gates were now wide open. Guards were checking every person and piece of luggage leaving the city; every trunk was opened, every sedan chair inspected, even sacks of grain on carts were jabbed with spears, regardless of the mess they made. Any girl of the right age was taken away for questioning, to the frustration of many parents, who dared not argue and could only comply.

This made Qingtan break out in a cold sweat. She would never make it through if she tried to walk out openly. Suddenly, a commotion approached. Peering through a crack, she saw several soldiers searching along the street, questioning every girl they found, even the beggar children. As the soldiers drew closer, she trembled uncontrollably, panic overwhelming her.

One soldier noticed movement in the pile of baskets ahead. He strode over, yanked one up—nothing beneath it. He kept searching, tossing baskets aside until none remained, but found no sign of life.

Must have been his imagination, he told himself.

At that moment, a carriage waiting nearby began to move forward. The silk curtains quivered, and a faint fragrance drifted out.

Just before the soldier lifted the last basket, Qingtan slipped out the other side and darted into the carriage. Now, she huddled in a corner, wide-eyed with fright, staring at the woman seated inside. The woman was young, dressed in finery, her skin pale as snow, her face sharply beautiful with a delicate chin. The carriage was thick with intoxicating perfume. Instead of screaming or showing disgust at the dirty, disheveled girl who had burst in, the woman merely raised her left eyebrow in mild surprise and regarded her with interest.

Though the lady made no sound, Qingtan’s fear did not lessen—in fact, it grew. For Qingtan clearly saw a long, snow-white tail curled behind the woman, its tip resting on her own shoulder and flicking gently. The woman’s eyes, though dark, occasionally glimmered with a ghostly green light.

What in the world was this woman?

[End of chapter]