With a swift, fluid motion, Ao Bing knocked the man away from Yi Zichen, sending him crashing into a nearby wall with inhuman strength. He quickly surveyed the scene, his eyes locking onto the demon lurking in the shadows. Ao Bing’s expression hardened, and his sharp golden eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, reading the creature’s intent.

Yi Zichen tried to stand, his muscles trembling from the effort, but pain flared through his ribs and he collapsed back onto the ground. He could only watch, still dazed and breathing heavily, as the five possessed people now turned their attention to Ao Bing. The aura around them flared with renewed intensity, and they charged at him with a ferocity that defied human limits.

Ao Bing didn’t hesitate. He moved with a grace and precision that was otherworldly, easily sidestepping the first attacker and sending a sharp, open-handed strike into the next one’s chest. The impact knocked the air out of the possessed man, and he crumpled to the ground. But before Ao Bing could retaliate further, the sound of sirens filled the air.

Flashing red and blue lights cut through the darkness, and police cars screeched to a halt at the end of the street. The officers jumped out, guns drawn, their voices shouting commands that blurred into white noise in Yi Zichen’s ears. He felt a pang of both relief and apprehension as the cops approached.

The demon, sensing the approaching law enforcement, retreated deeper into the shadows, its glowing eyes fading into the night. The remaining possessed figures hesitated, their movements becoming more erratic, as if the demon’s control over them was slipping.

Yi Zichen’s vision began to clear, but the world still felt off-kilter. He caught a glimpse of Ao Bing, his white-silver hair catching the dim light as he glanced back at him with an unreadable expression.

The oppressive aura surrounding the five possessed people faded, the red energy dissipating into the night. The figures, who moments before had moved with terrifying purpose, suddenly stopped in their tracks. They blinked, disoriented, looking around as if waking from a bad dream.

“What—what’s going on?” one of them stammered, staring at their hands with wide, frightened eyes.

Yi Zichen, still sprawled on the ground, gasped for breath, his chest heaving with the effort. Ao Bing knelt down beside him, his usually calm demeanor strained with visible concern. 

“Are you okay?” Ao Bing’s voice was low but steady, his eyes searching Yi Zichen’s face for any signs of injury.

Yi Zichen managed a weak nod. He clutched his side, where the pain still radiated sharply from the impact against the car. Everything hurt, and his head was spinning. The world around him seemed surreal, like he was watching someone else’s nightmare unfold.

One of the officers rushed over, gun still in hand, his gaze shifting between the confused group of people and Yi Zichen. “What happened here?” he demanded, his voice gruff with authority.

Ao Bing didn’t flinch, keeping his focus on Yi Zichen. “I was nearby and saw these people attacking the orphanage,” he replied evenly, not missing a beat. His voice was calm, almost too calm, as if rehearsed, but the officer didn’t seem to notice.

The officer shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Crime’s been on the rise lately. We’re seeing attacks like this more and more.” He glanced over at the five people sitting on the curb, still dazed and confused. “We’ll need to figure out what they were doing here.”

The paramedics arrived next, quickly and efficiently assessing the situation. They moved to Yi Zichen, easing him onto a stretcher. He winced, pain flashing across his face, but he didn’t resist.  One of the officers turned back to Ao Bing. “Would you mind coming to the station to give a statement? It shouldn’t take long, and we’ll take you to the hospital afterward.”

Ao Bing hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t want to leave Yi Zichen, but refusing would only draw more attention to himself. Reluctantly, he nodded, opening his mouth to agree.

But before he could speak, Yi Zichen grabbed his arm weakly, his fingers tightening around Ao Bing’s sleeve. “Before you go, can you check on the kids?” Yi Zichen wheezed, his voice barely more than a whisper. He coughed and forced himself to focus, eyes narrowing with determination. “Make sure… they’re okay.”

Ao Bing’s expression softened.

“Alright,” Ao Bing said. “I’ll check on them. But you—”

“I’ll be fine,” Yi Zichen interrupted, forcing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just… make sure they’re safe.”

The paramedics began loading Yi Zichen into the ambulance, and Ao Bing took a step back, watching as the doors closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring at the ambulance as if weighing a decision, before turning away and heading toward the entrance of the orphanage.

The officers exchanged puzzled looks, but their attention was quickly diverted to managing the dazed and disoriented group of people on the curb. 

None of them noticed the lingering shadow at the far edge of the street.

***

In the distance, a figure watched everything unfold with keen interest. 

It was a woman, clad in all white, her dark smile widening as she observed the chaos she had set into motion. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light, reflecting the residual energy from the red aura. She whispered something under her breath, almost like a lullaby.

“Here you are, child,” she murmured, her voice a soft, lilting melody.

 She turned and slipped back into the shadows, disappearing into the night without a trace.

***

Ao Bing approached the orphanage, his heart still pounding from the events outside. The entrance loomed before him, the door slightly ajar after Mr. Chang’s hurried retreat. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The interior of the orphanage felt worlds apart from the chaos that had just unfolded. It was a modest building, with worn wooden floors and walls adorned with old photographs and drawings made by the children. Despite its age, there was a warmth to the place, a sense of familiarity and comfort that made it feel like a home. The air carried the faint scent of lavender and books.

Ao Bing could hear the soft hum of activity deeper inside the building, the distant laughter and playful chatter of children. It was a jarring juxtaposition to what had just happened outside. He quietly made his way down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound on the creaking floor.

In the main common room, a group of children sat around a large, low table, engrossed in a board game. Their faces were lit with innocent excitement, oblivious to the danger that had been so close. They laughed and bickered over who was winning, their voices filling the room with a carefree energy that felt almost surreal in light of the events outside.

Ao Bing’s gaze softened as he took in the sight. The children were completely unaware of the threat that had loomed just beyond the walls of the orphanage. For a moment, Ao Bing felt a flicker of relief—at least they had been protected from that nightmare.

“Sir?” Ao Bing called softly, not wanting to alarm the kids. He didn’t have to wait long.

Mr. Chang appeared from a side room, limping slightly as he made his way over. He was an older man, with silver hair and a lined face that bore the marks of years spent in service to others. Despite his injuries, he carried himself with a quiet strength, the kind that comes from a lifetime of caring for those who cannot care for themselves.

Ao Bing’s eyes quickly assessed the man’s condition. There was a dark bruise forming on Mr. Chang’s temple, and he favored his right leg, but his demeanor was composed.

Noticing Ao Bing’s concern, Mr. Chang gave a weary nod, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I’ve had worse,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “The attackers were strong, but Zichen handled most of them. That boy’s tougher than he looks.”

Ao Bing took a step forward, bowing his head slightly in greeting. “Sir, my name is Ao Bing,” he said formally, his voice steady and respectful. “I came to check on you and the children after… what happened outside.”

Mr. Chang studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in Ao Bing’s demeanor. “Ao Bing,” he repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “Thank you for helping Zichen. I… I saw what happened after I went inside to check on the kids.”

Mr. Chang’s words were filled with sincerity, and the weight of his gratitude seemed to linger in the air. He shifted slightly, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. Ao Bing opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Chang held up a hand, silencing him with a look.

“If it weren’t for you,” Mr. Chang continued, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that clung to him, “I don’t know what would’ve happened to Zichen. He’s been like family to this place, to these kids. I owe you more than a simple ‘thank you.’”

The words made Ao Bing’s chest tighten. He had been so quick to dismiss Yi Zichen earlier, to push him away, and now, after witnessing Yi Zichen’s willingness to sacrifice himself for the orphanage, Ao Bing couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of remorse for how things had gone between them.

“Please,” Ao Bing said, clearing his throat slightly, “let me check the area to make sure there are no lingering threats. I don’t want to risk anything else happening to the children.”

Mr. Chang nodded in agreement. “I appreciate that,” he replied. “The kids don’t know what happened outside. They didn’t see anything, thank the heavens.”

Ao Bing inclined his head slightly and turned to scan the surroundings, moving with silent precision as he slipped through the front door and into the night once more. His instincts told him to be thorough—demons rarely retreated without leaving some lingering trace of their malevolent presence.

He focused on his senses, reaching out with his innate spiritual awareness to detect even the faintest trace of demonic energy. The atmosphere felt quiet, almost deceptively peaceful. The lingering sounds of laughter from the children’s game seemed to amplify the stillness beyond the walls.

The police were still busy questioning the dazed attackers, and the flashing lights cast long, eerie shadows across the orphanage grounds. Ao Bing moved away from the crowd, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention as he concentrated on searching for remnants of the demonic energy that had controlled the attackers.

He closed his eyes, letting out a controlled breath as he extended his spiritual senses outward, feeling for disruptions, traces of energy that didn’t belong. He opened his mind to the ebb and flow of Midnight City’s spiritual currents, searching for any lingering taint.

The energy in the immediate area felt turbulent, as if recently disturbed. There was a foul, bitter residue that clung to the air like the smell of burnt wood. And beyond that, there was something else, a darker undercurrent, like the echo of a sinister laugh trailing off into the night.

He moved methodically around the perimeter of the orphanage, his steps deliberate and measured. He stopped at the corner of the building where the shadows seemed to pool deeper, where he had last seen the demon retreat. Ao Bing reached out with his hand, fingers lightly grazing the brick wall, and felt a chill run through his fingertips—a trace of lingering malevolence. It was faint, like a dying ember, but unmistakable. The demon had been here.

Ao Bing withdrew his hand, his jaw tightening. He closed his eyes again, focusing on dispersing the last remnants of the demonic presence. He whispered a quiet incantation under his breath, channeling his own spiritual energy to cleanse the area. A soft, pale blue glow emanated from his fingertips, spreading outward in delicate tendrils that danced along the walls and dissipated the lingering traces of darkness.

When the glow faded, the air felt noticeably lighter, the oppressive weight lifting. Ao Bing let out a slow breath, feeling a sense of cautious relief. The demon’s energy was gone, at least for now. But he knew it wouldn’t stay that way forever—demons like this one rarely abandoned their prey entirely. It was likely only a matter of time before it returned.