Suddenly, an unexpected figure materialized and unleashed a volley of gunfire at Zhao Hu.
"I understand. Wait for me here," Mo Lin declared, striding toward Minghai Tower.
"You're just going in? That man who burst in earlier was armed," a bystander warned.
"It's nothing," Mo Lin replied—and in an instant, he vanished within the tower's shadowed halls.
With three nightmare–class phantoms at his command, dispatching a lone gunman was scarcely a challenge.
A rush of frigid air greeted him inside. The interior lay in darkness—unlit, ominous. Mo Lin bypassed the elevator, choosing the stairwell instead. He needed to scour each floor for spectral wards; enclosed lifts would betray no secrets.
"Chen Xi…" he murmured, and a scarlet phantom coalesced at his side.
"Master, you summoned?" she asked, eyes sweeping the gloom.
"There's an armed intruder here. Root him out."
"As you wish." With a curt nod, she vanished upward through the ceiling.
Mo Lin ascended steadily. A mortal could not glide through floors as ghosts did. A weight of unease pressed upon him—an intangible dread borne of Nether instincts, a harbinger of peril.
"Chu Xing…"
"Master? You beckoned?" Chu Xing hovered at his side.
"Join Chen Xi. I have a bad feeling."
"Surely nothing in the Nether Realm eludes your mastery?" Chu Xing teased—but Mo Lin's grave expression stilled her levity, and she followed after.
The second floor lay silent and empty. To guard against ambush, Mo Lin summoned Hong Ye, her obsidian hair trailing like ink as she materialized behind him.
"Master…I'm frightened…" Hong Ye's soft voice trembled, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
Fear in a phantom's voice was unheard of—a sure omen of danger.
"Chen Xi…Chu Xing…return!" Mo Lin's command echoed unanswered in the shadowed corridor.
He quickened his pace.
A piercing scream rent the air—a sound of pure anguish that shattered nearby glass with thunderous crashes. Shards tumbled like cruel rain. The tower quaked; an enormous breach yawned in the thirtieth floor's left wing.
Outside, men in black uniforms herded panicked onlookers away. "Evacuate the area! Keep clear of Minghai Tower!"
Mo Lin's heart clenched—the scream belonged to Chen Xi. He surged upward, every stair a desperate flight.
Another thunderous roar, and the tower lurched. The upper twenty-nine floors collapsed in a ruinous cascade, sending plumes of dust skyward. A proud edifice reduced to rubble.
He could only race on, driven by dread—and the echoing wails that grew ever closer.
On the rooftop, a cavern had torn open the ceiling. From it fell a torrent of inky flames, writhing in the gloom. Chen Xi writhed in its heart, her soul seared by Netherfire.
"Master…you…must flee…" she gasped through unbearable torment, her shriek lacerating his heart.
Mo Lin recognized the conflagration: Netherfire of the Underworld, born in the ancient Nether Prefecture—a scourge that devours spirit. Why had it come to the mortal realm?
He drew his cerulean blade in a fluid arc. With one thunderous slash, he severed the fiendish flames' tether to Chen Xi. The black fire collapsed to the rooftop, its last embers guttering into silence.
Chen Xi's form lay diminished; the inferno had consumed a fragment of her essence.
"I… I'm sorry, Master…" she whispered, remorse in her tone.
"It's not your fault. Rest now," Mo Lin soothed, for even he trembled at the thought of Netherfire.
She bowed and retreated into the seal-bound tome to heal.
Another explosion rocked the tower. Chu Xing must be locked in combat.
"Go aid him!" Mo Lin urged Hong Ye. She soared toward the battlements, where stairwells lay fissured and half-destroyed.
"Who let you out?" a dark-capped man snarled at a phantom. "Good thing I brought Netherfire. Otherwise, you'd be dead already."
"I only wanted some air, a bite to eat. These fools provoked me—I'll slaughter them and then return to you," the phantom growled.
"Move faster…" the man crossed his arms impatiently, the night's horrors far from over.