Previous Chapter 4
As we stepped into the night, the cold bit sharply at my skin. The streets were deserted, no cars, no late-night wanderers, just us and the hollow silence. From the distant town center, neon lights flickered through gaps in the trees and houses. Overhead, a faint moon hung low, its pale glow barely piercing the surrounding darkness.
We made our way to the dumping site where Aunt Shen had abandoned the cubs. In the oppressive quiet, each crunch of gravel beneath our feet echoed too loudly.
"We start here," my uncle murmured. He lit a stick of Trace Incense. The smoke drifted toward a bush nestled between the poplars, then stopped, curling around it before slowly dispersing.
“They’re still here. We’re in luck.”
I scanned the shadows, holding my breath. "I don't see anything."
"They are hidden." My uncle pulled out a coil of red rope and secured one end to the lightning-struck wood. He handed it to me. “Hold this tightly. It’s a safeguard. If anything tries to interfere, this will stop it.”
I gripped the wood, my palms slick with sweat, hands trembling, not just from fear, but anticipation. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to steady. Slowly, my grip grew firm.
"Hold on tight and wait for my signal," my uncle whispered. "Watch closely, and no matter what you see or hear, stay absolutely quiet."
With deliberate precision, he moved around the bush. One hand unspooled the red rope while the other scattered cinnabar and incense ash with each measured step. Every few paces, he paused to tie a knot, securing a Repelling Talisman to the rope.
I recognized the pattern immediately, he was laying the Spirit-Revealing Array. The mixture on the ground would form the array’s foundation, with the bush at its center. And the red rope, adorned with eight talismans, would create a powerful Protective Array. I watched, barely breathing.
A faint hissing sound rose from the shadows. I stiffened, straining to listen, but it vanished just as quickly. Only the sound of my uncle’s footsteps remained. Maybe I’d imagined it.
Finally, my uncle completed the loop and returned to me. He gave me a small nod.
We stepped closer. I handed him my end of the rope, and he swiftly tied it off, sealing the circle but leaving just enough slack for each of us to hold. My uncle gestured for me to step inside.
Then, he laid five white crystal Enhancement Talismans between the rope circle and the ashen array to form a Connection Array. It would not only link them into a cohesive formation but also amplify their effects.
He began to chant, an incantation I had never heard before, like singing a slow song. Facing the Connection Array, his movements flowed in perfect rhythm, like a slow, deliberate dance. The white crystal talismans began to glow in the dark, sparkling like jewels, until a thin thread of white light connected all five, stretching out to the red rope and the ashen array.
The red rope trembled faintly, hovering just above the ground as if tugged by an unseen force. The eight Repelling Talismans tied to it lay on the ground, emitting a faint red light that connected to form a glowing octagon. The lightning-struck wood in my hand, once pleasantly warm, now pulsed with heat, growing almost too hot to hold.
Meanwhile, the mixture on the ground began to stir. A faint glow flickered, growing brighter until the entire Spirit-Revealing Array shimmered with a dim blue light. The Protective Array and the Spirit-Revealing Array merged into a single formation. We stood in its safe zone, outside the Spirit-Revealing Array but within the Protective Array.
I stared, astonished. My last shred of doubt crumbled. Years of dismissing these practices as mere superstition unraveled before my eyes. He’d never taught me these: the dance, the enchanting tune, and the final step—the activation. My formations had never been activated; my spells were like lyrics without melody.
NO WONDER MY ATTEMPTS HAD NEVER WORKED!
Was he holding back? Why? Frustration tangled with awe and anger surged through me. Roaring inside, yet I kept my mouth shut and didn’t make a sound.
As he spoke the final words, a rustling broke the silence. Something stirred beneath the nearby bush.
Four small, gray-furred creatures crept out, huddled together. Weasel cubs, but... different. Each bore a tuft of vibrant yellow hair on its forehead, a feature I'd never seen before.
My uncle let out a sharp, piercing whistle, a sound both like birdsong and a baby’s cry. It rippled through the night, carrying a strange, echoing resonance.
I remembered the first time I’d heard him practicing that whistle. It had seemed playful then, almost amusing. I had tried to mimic it, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make that sound. I had begged him to teach me, but he had always refused, saying it wasn’t time.
The hissing returned, louder, prolonged. It wasn’t my imagination.
This was a call. Suddenly, I understood. This wasn’t a game for fun. All his holding back, I finally understood it in this moment.
Something was moving. And it was close.
A high-pitched whine drifted through the trees, faint at first but rising, unsettling. It sounded like air blown through hollow reeds, half flute, half whisper. A distant drip of water joined the eerie melody.
My uncle whistled again, this time lower, slower. The cubs reacted instantly, letting out frantic, sharp wails, their small bodies pressing together in distress.
Then, two glowing golden dots, like the ones from my dream years ago, pierced the darkness. A huge weasel stepped out of the shadows, twice the size of a typical one.
The cub’s mother had arrived.
She lunged at us, only to be thrown back as if hitting an invisible wall. The Protective Formation barrier held firm. She tried again, hissing and clawing at the air, her cries sharp with frustration. Then, suddenly, she stopped.
Sitting just outside the circle, she locked eyes with my uncle and let out a series of sharp, demanding cries.
My uncle responded, but not in any language I knew. His voice carried a slow, rhythmic melody, almost like singing.
The mother weasel's eyes narrowed. Her bristling fur smoothed, and her tense body relaxed slightly. She let out a series of short, breathy chirps, no longer hostile.
My uncle nodded, then responded again. They went back and forth, as if negotiating. I watched, clueless. But nothing could surprise me anymore.
Finally, as if coming to a decision, she nodded, slow and deliberate, almost… human.
Without breaking eye contact, my uncle reached down, brushed aside part of the array, and gestured for me to untie the knot in the red rope. My heart pounded as I fumbled with the knot.
The moment the gap opened, the cubs bolted from the circle, racing straight to their mother. One lagged behind, limping slightly, its leg was crooked. She gathered them close, nuzzling each one before lifting her head to look at my uncle one last time.
Then, without another sound, they melted into the shadows.
The night was silent once more.
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