273 Ghost Soul
273 Ghost Soul
I’m Da Wei, except not exactly. I’m Da Wei’s Ghost Soul, the piece of him stuffed with compulsive obsessions, and right now I had the rarest privilege of being able to… play. Before me rose a ridiculous house of cards, built into a pyramid that scraped the ceiling beams. Each card was crisp, glowing faintly with quintessence. The progenitor wasn’t pleased, of course. I could feel his disapproval pressing at the edges of my being, muttering about waste, about discipline. But what could he do? Here, I had access to faith, and that meant quintessence flowed without end. If I wanted a palace of cards, then a palace I would have.
Across the room, Gu Jie sat at the big desk, shoulders hunched over a tower of paperwork that would have made a mortal cry blood. The scratching of her brush was steady, determined, as though she could drown herself in the order of ink and seals. The contrast amused me, her buried in duties, while I stacked cards into castles in the sky. It had never been better.
This was probably what my progenitor felt every time he saw me do paperwork.
Curse you, Da Wei!
As for the Heavenly Demon, Ru Qiu, he was buried too, but in a different kind of text. He sat in the corner, reading through a copy of the Chronicles, the Epics that painted my progenitor into myth. His eyes lingered, sometimes narrowing, sometimes widening in surprise, though his expression remained that irritating mask of superiority. I didn’t particularly care what he thought. As far as I was concerned, he was overrated. Perhaps once, he was terrifying, a storm that shook the False Earth. But here? He was just another shadow lingering too long in my presence. I was a new soul, weaker than the rest, but I doubted I’d fall so easily if it came to blows. If he pressed me, I’d simply nudge the progenitor to take over, and then Ru Qiu would be buried beneath the weight of faith and friendship… or whatever sentimental nonsense Da Wei leaned on these days.
“Handling this kind of technology,” Gu Jie muttered, not even looking up from her forms, “and trying to accelerate its production… complications will follow. Don’t you understand that?”
I grinned, flicking a glowing card onto the peak of my pyramid. “It will be fine. We have you. If I had my way, you’d be building nukes right now. One neat little package condensed into ten steps, not a hundred. Imagine that… fear in the hearts of mortals and cultivators alike.”
Her brush froze mid-stroke. “A… nuke?”
“Yes!” I said, throwing my arms up. The cards rippled but didn’t collapse. “Not for cities. Who cares about those? I’m talking sects, sacred mountains, the sort of places that deserve to be flattened. You can’t deny the elegance of it.”
“I don’t know about nukes,” Gu Jie’s face tightened. “But the kind of technology you’re suggesting can’t be created in a month, not even with my eyes, not even if I never rest!”
I leaned back, balancing a card on my fingertip. “Guess what? In the coming month a pack of mercenaries will try to storm us. I’ve already foreseen it. So you’ll manage, somehow. I believe in you.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flickering with both irritation and resignation. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re brilliant,” I said, tapping my card and setting it spinning in the air. “That’s why it’ll work.”
Before she could reply, the sudden sound of a chair scraping across the floor cut through the room. Ru Qiu shot to his feet, his eyes blazing, the Chronicles rolled tightly in one hand.
“What is the meaning of this?” he thundered, his voice thick with outrage. He jabbed the scroll like a spear. “I lost to this… this Da Wei? It has to be lies!”
I tilted my head, watching him with mild interest. The cards above me swayed, but none dared fall. I’m going to punch that demon if the cards fell. I didn’t care if I’d be obliterated in the process; some things demanded violence, and if Ru Qiu’s temper tantrum toppled my pyramid, then so be it. Fortunately, the cards stood firm, and only his voice shook the air.
“This is nonsense!” Ru Qiu snarled, waving the Chronicles like a guilty verdict. Just moments ago, he had been grinning from ear to ear when he reached the passage describing his duel with my progenitor. He’d lingered on the part about the draw, savoring it, nodding as if the world had finally remembered who he was. But when he read further to the later volumes, when the text described his forced submission, he exploded. “Impossible! Before then, I outmatched him by two whole realms and he barely survived me. This is fabrication!”
I sighed, long and heavy. “The Chronicles always speak of the truth, so no, it isn’t a fabrication.”
“I refuse,” said Ru Qiu. “This is dogshit!”
Gu Jie didn’t even glance up from her papers. She simply dipped her brush, the tip gliding with calm precision as she remarked, “Then prove it. Go to the supplies, get yourself ink, brush, paper. Write down what you thought truly happened.”
Ru Qiu blinked, then broke into laughter. “Marvelous idea!” He spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving the door swinging in his wake.
I muttered, “If he ends up killing someone, you’re going to be the one explaining to my progenitor.”
“It will be fine,” Gu Jie replied, finally setting down her brush. Her dark eyes flickered with weariness but also determination. “I gave orders for the others to avoid him with a wide berth. Let’s not waste the moment. Tell me more about your plans, you said it would take a thousand steps. Explain.”
I leaned back, letting a card twirl between my fingers before sending it into the tower. “A war of attrition. We play defensively, bleed them of strength, and aim for a diplomatic victory. Two world powers involved, an arbitration staged, and the rest of the world leaves us alone. The mercenary attack will be the first probe, testing how sharp our claws are. In a thousand steps, they won’t win, but not so easily that they give up. Defense, after all, isn’t flashy enough. They’ll be tempted to try again, and again, until we’re ready to crush the hand behind the curtain. But with you here, we can take a different route, a flashier play, and make a thousand steps into a hundred. We destroy them outright, leave nothing to doubt, and make an example so great that any would-be aggressor thinks twice before daring again.”
Gu Jie’s brows furrowed. “Couldn’t you just possess me? Or Ding Shan? Fight them head on, make it flashy that way?”
“Pffft,” I scoffed, waving her off. “I’m newly gestated. The buffs I could give are weaker than my other selves, and besides, I don’t want to get tired. Why should I do the heavy lifting when you’re here?”
Her lips curved into a thin line. “Then… how about letting the Heavenly Demon handle it?”
I turned my head so slowly she should have heard the creak in my neck. “You know exactly what would happen if we did that, don’t you?”
Gu Jie shrunk in her seat, muttering, “Sorry. That was stupid. If he let loose, it might attract… the wrong kind of attention.”
“Exactly.” I tapped the table with one finger, punctuating each word. “So, you work hard.”
She grimaced, a pained look spreading across her face, but after a pause she pushed herself up from the chair. “Fine. I’ll head to the Engineering Pavilion and… get it done.”
I flicked a card into the air and grinned as it landed perfectly into place. “That’s my girl.”
“Yes, yes,” remarked Gu Jie, rubbing her temples, “now, please do the paperwork while I’m gone.”
I slumped into the big chair, waiting for her footsteps to fade down the hall. The moment she was gone, I spread my hand, letting a shimmer of quintessence gather at my fingertips. “Summon: Holy Spirit.” The air cracked, and a tall figure materialized, a skeleton roughly twice my size. Its hollow sockets glowed faintly as it stood stiff before me. Unlike the standard spell, mine had a personal twist. It was the benefits of being a Ghost Soul with too much free faith to burn.
“Ezekiel,” I said with satisfaction, “do paperwork for me.”
I hopped off the big seat and gestured like a generous master passing on burdens. In truth, I wasn’t letting him act on his own. I was controlling him like a puppet, his bony hands moving the brush while I withdrew, lounging back into my games. I shuffled my cards, stacking them into elaborate towers again, until the delicate balance no longer thrilled me. After so long, the game lost its charm. My eyes wandered, my thoughts restless. “Maybe I should look for Chen Wei,” I muttered. “Fooling around with him sounds better than this.”
The following weeks fell into rhythm. I spent my days hanging around the Shrine of the Great Guard, playing with Chen Wei and other kids. Meanwhile, Ezekiel handled the mountain of paperwork in the office. He was slower than me, sure, but steady enough. The ledgers piled neatly, the seals pressed in proper order, the bureaucratic skeleton tamed one page at a time. I couldn’t complain.
Still, one thought nagged at me. My progenitor wouldn’t snitch on Alice, right? …Right? The silence stretched. Then, faint amusement rippled across my tether to him. My spine prickled. “Was this funny to you?” I asked the air, only half-joking. No reply came, only that lingering hint of mirth. Now I felt worried. Why did the thought of that woman unsettle me so much? She was just a measly vampire, ugh… and yet my stomach tightened whenever she came to mind.
At least Chen Wei was a distraction. Playing chase with him and the other kids filled the afternoons with laughter. The shrine, however, had its own oddity. There was always this strange woman, Jia Yun, who sat in meditation like she had been carved from stone. Her stillness unnerved me. She never scolded us, never joined us, and just watched, or perhaps listened, with closed eyes. Weird woman.
Three weeks slipped by since I last saw Gu Jie. The shrine, the games, and Ezekiel’s scratchy brushwork carried me through the days until one evening she appeared at the shrine’s entrance. She crossed her arms, her presence cutting through the children’s chatter like a blade.
“Ghost Wei,” she called, her tone sharp but her lips quirked in a rare smile. “It’s ready.”
For some reason, a wealth of excitement burst from my heart, flooding me with warmth I hadn’t expected.
Finally! I couldn’t hold back the excitement bubbling out of me. My voice rang out as Gu Jie gestured for me to follow. She led the way into a courtyard hidden deep behind layers of wards and formations. Guardians patrolled every corner, their steps crisp and precise, the air thick with security. My eyes darted everywhere, eager to see what she had been hiding from me these past weeks.
Fatty Ke Zhen stood waiting with a proud grin plastered across his face. At our arrival, he tugged at a heavy tarp, the fabric falling away with a satisfying sweep. My breath caught. “Whoa… it’s beautiful.”
Towering above us, bathed in the glow of the ward-lights, was a battle mech. Eight meters tall, it cast a long shadow over the courtyard. Its frame was sleek, armored in interlocking plates of matte black and gunmetal gray. The contours weren’t bulky like an armored golem, but streamlined, balanced between elegance and menace. Its helm resembled a sharp-edged visor, with glowing slits that pulsed faintly like watchful eyes. The arms ended with reinforced gauntlets, fingers built for both precision and devastating strikes, while its legs bore stabilizers etched with talismanic runes that hinted at impossible leaps. The sight alone radiated power. It was an apex predator forged in steel and spirit.
Gu Jie tilted her head, watching me with calm satisfaction. “We decided to leave the paint job for last,” she explained, “so what color do you want it to be?”
I shook my head furiously, a grin stretching across my face. My heart pounded like a child handed a dream. In all but spirit, I’m a child, so yes, my heart was pounding like crazy. “No… this is perfect! The black, the gray, the sharpness. I’m going to call it… the Phantom!”
Before Gu Jie could reply, the courtyard vibrated with a deep, resonant thrum. From the skies above New Willow came the unmistakable beat of war drums, loud and urgent. Wards rippled, formations brightened, and the Guardians stiffened in alarm. Ding Shan’s voice boomed through the city, carried by transmission arrays:
“Citizens of New Willow, stay within your homes! This is not a drill.”
The warning rolled over us, heavy with dread. My pulse quickened, though not with fear… No, this was the moment I had been waiting for. I clenched my fists, eyes locked on the towering mech. “Perfect timing.”
With a surge of faith and quintessence, I spread my arms and roared, “Divine Possession!” Golden threads of light burst from my body, arcing upward, weaving into the runes carved into the mech’s frame. The Phantom’s eyes flared alive with brilliance, and my spirit rushed forward, merging into its core.
Today, I would play.