Figures in masks leapt from the earth, bowing respectfully. "Lady Mazu."
Mazu's expression darkened. "Investigate at once!"
The masked land spirits vanished beneath the ground as swiftly as they had emerged. Lin Xiang reached out with her divine senses, tracing Zhaodi's faith-thread to uncover the truth.
A vision formed—a fleeting image of Zhaodi and her daughters leaving the festival. The girls walked quietly, clutching the rice balls Lin Xiang had given them. As they passed a quiet alley, a woman in white knelt in the shadows, sobbing softly.
Moved by compassion, Zhaodi approached. "Miss, are you waiting for someone?"
The woman did not answer. Sniffling, she rose and pointed into the darkness behind her. It was late, and the alley was dangerous. Zhaodi hesitated—then watched in alarm as the woman stepped deeper into the gloom.
By the time she realized what had happened, the woman had vanished. Zhaodi dared not follow—but when she turned back, her daughters were gone. Only scattered rice balls remained upon the ground.
Lin Xiang withdrew from the vision, her mind sharpening on the mysterious woman in white. A figure weeping alone in the dead of night was already suspicious enough—but even through memory, she sensed an unnatural deathly aura clinging to her like mist.
Neighbors gathered around the distraught mother, offering comfort. The old caretaker, respected among the community, organized those who had yet to leave, forming search parties. Through tears, Zhaodi recounted the strange encounter with the weeping woman.
The caretaker wasted no time relaying the details to Mazu and Lin Xiang. The land spirits returned with their findings. Cross-referencing their reports with Lin Xiang's vision, Mazu confirmed the woman's involvement.
"Which way did she go?" Mazu asked, her voice calm but edged with fury.
A moment's pause. "Toward the western port."
Lin Xiang's thoughts snapped immediately to Giselle—Lorelei's missing companion. If this weeping specter was indeed connected to the same force that had taken Giselle, then the danger was far greater than they had imagined.
Mazu frowned at the mention of the port, but Lin Xiang stepped forward confidently. "Let me investigate. They don't know who I am. I'll find the woman's trail and return before drawing attention."
Mazu considered her words, then nodded decisively. "I will gather allies beyond the city. We may wish to avoid conflict, but if they break the rules first—we will not hesitate."
Lin Xiang had no intention of charging in blindly. Lorelei, familiar with the port's hidden paths, would be invaluable.
She found the river nymph deep within the forest along the canal. Upon hearing the description, Lorelei's golden brows furrowed.
"I know who you seek," she said grimly. "Her name is Yurona. She arrived only recently."
Lin Xiang recognized the name—an infamous spirit born of sorrow and vengeance.
Once known as Maria, a Native American woman loved and abandoned by a Spanish colonist, she had drowned her three children in despair, only to regret it instantly. Wracked with grief and consumed by hatred, she cast herself into the river, becoming Yurona—the Weeping Woman.
Now, she wandered the world searching for her lost children, snatching others' daughters to drown in their place.
Lin Xiang's heart clenched. If Yurona had taken the girls, they were likely still alive—for now.
"How long until the tide rises?" she asked urgently.
Lorelei shook her head. "Not long. But she won't act yet. She hides her victims carefully—afraid other dark gods might steal her offerings."
"The question is… where does she keep them?"
Lorelei hesitated. "Only she knows."
Lin Xiang exhaled sharply. Time was slipping away. There was no choice but to enter the port's cursed domain.
Lorelei offered one final clue. "Most evil gods gather at The Heart of Night , an Irish tavern owned by Balor of the Evil Eye."
"But that place…" She met Lin Xiang's gaze. "It does not welcome your kind."
Lin Xiang's eyes gleamed coldly. "Then let them learn to fear us."
Balor was no stranger to her. Once a Celtic god of destruction, his power had waned, but his gaze could still kill. Even weakened, he was not to be underestimated.
Yet Lin Xiang already had a plan.
At the entrance of the tavern, she shed her mortal guise and donned Viviane's stolen visage. Though both hailed from Celtic myth, Viviane and Balor had never crossed paths. Her waterborne divinity closely resembled that of the Lady of the Lake—close enough to fool him.
A pair of troll bouncers barred her path—until she fixed them with a cold stare. A flick of her hand marked them with ill-fortune, sending them writhing in pain.
Terrified, they parted, allowing her passage. One river-dwelling giant, sensing her dominion over water, rushed forward to open the door, desperate to appease the goddess.
Inside, every eye turned toward the unfamiliar deity. Yet Lin Xiang showed no hesitation. Expressionless, she strode past the assembled horrors and took a seat at the bar.
The bartender, a short but shrewd Irish leprechaun, trembled. These creatures brought luck, often used as treasure guardians. He alone understood the true depth of her power—and feared it.
Silently, he poured her a drink.
No one dared speak.
The Weeping Woman had been found.
Now came the hunt.
Lin Xiang watched the trembling leprechaun with quiet amusement. His four-leaf clover hat slipped from his head, clattering onto the bar floor.
The once-noisy tavern fell into uneasy silence. Every twisted deity and spectral figure turned their gaze toward the bar, whispering among themselves, trying to decipher the identity of this goddess who had so easily unnerved their luck-bringing guardian.
The leprechaun clutched the counter, forcing himself upright. "W-welcome, exalted goddess…"
His voice wavered like a leaf in wind.
Lin Xiang glanced at the menu—names as grotesque as the patrons themselves—and dismissed it with a flick of her wrist. "Water. Now."
Relief washed over the little creature. He scurried away on short legs, disappearing into the back.
Lin Xiang let her eyes drift around the room. No sign of Yurona yet—but the place was crawling with horrors born of modern nightmares.
A scarecrow draped in tattered rags clutched a rusted scythe, still stained with old blood. A stitched-together abomination—clearly inspired by Mary Shelley's mad science—leaned against the wall. Werewolves and vampires lounged nearby, their fangs glinting under dim lights. Others were even worse—twisted, nameless things barely clinging to humanoid form.
Most of these gods were young, their origins murky. Some lacked worshippers entirely, surviving only on lingering fear passed through stories. Their power was pitiful—barely enough to challenge even a weak land spirit.
A man in a black suit took the seat beside her, raising a glass in mock salute. His teeth gleamed stark white against ebony skin.
"Goddess of Misfortune," he greeted, adjusting his monocle with exaggerated politeness. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Lin Xiang narrowed her eyes. This one carried weight—an active death deity. His karmic threads shimmered thick with worship, though not quite reaching Middle-Tier strength.
Annoying, but manageable.
She wrinkled her nose. "Your stench disgusts me. Leave."
The glass shattered in his grip. Wine spilled across the counter like blood.
He bowed slightly, tipping his hat. "Baron Samedi. Saturday Lord. Keeper of the Dead."
Ah—Voodoo's infamous reanimated corpse god. No wonder he still drew followers.
"I said leave ," she repeated coldly, her aura spreading like ink. "And take your rot with you."
At her command, shadows slithered outward, creeping along the bar. From the corners of the room, zombies dragged themselves forth, drawn to their master's call.
The wooden floor rotted beneath them, collapsing inward. Rotten limbs tumbled down, writhing—until water burst from within, swelling the corpses until they ruptured, torn apart by divine force.
With a flick of his cane—once a serpent—Baron Samedi summoned the remains, weaving them into a towering shadowy figure.
Above, unseen eyes observed from the rafters. Lin Xiang guessed that was Balor—the tavern's true master.
She reached for the water brought by the leprechaun and poured it onto the floor. Blossoms erupted in an ephemeral bloom, purging the filth.
The voodoo death god staggered, his power unraveling before her cleansing tide. His summoned shade collapsed into dust.
Panic rippled through the tavern. Deities scrambled for the exits. Even Baron Samedi stumbled back, shielding himself as the sprinklers above suddenly activated, dousing him in holy water.
Cursing, he pulled his coat over his face, transforming it into a protective cloak.
Enraged, he raised his staff, chanting incantations meant to summon the dead.
Lin Xiang merely stepped forward, stomping hard upon the ground. Buried pipes split open, geysering torrents of water that flooded the room.
As the two deities prepared for full-scale battle, a new presence intervened.
From the upper balcony, Balor descended with slow, deliberate steps.
"Avalon's Lady," he boomed, laughter laced with mockery. "Your presence honors my humble domain. But tell me—are you Viviane the Fair—or Viviane the Foul?"
Lin Xiang turned without haste. "Balor of the Evil Eye. King of the Formorians."
Baron Samedi vanished the moment Balor appeared, retreating into smoke. The trolls and lesser spirits followed suit, vanishing at their master's silent command.
Only the two ancient gods remained.
Balor arched a brow. "You seek Giselle?"
Lin Xiang did not correct him. Let him assume. "She wears white. Her hair drips with river water."
Two ghosts fit that description—Yurona and Giselle alike. Balor, mistaking her intent, scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"The noble yet wicked goddess," he mused. "Did Giselle offend your pride?"
"I have no need to explain myself." Lin Xiang leaned forward. "Hand her over."
That was all it took. Balor's expression shifted. He understood now—this wasn't about Giselle.
"She left with the Southern Gods," he admitted cautiously. "On Samhain."
Samhain—Halloween. That meant Giselle had been missing for nearly two months.
Lin Xiang pressed further. "How long ago?"
"Since the night of the dead."
Her lips curled into a slight sneer. "Are you sheltering her?"
"No, no," Balor waved his hands. "I simply don't know where she went after that. She arrived with the native gods, yes—but she also took many believers with her when she left."
He hesitated. "Even Baron Samedi came here searching for his lost flock."
Lin Xiang gave a subtle nod. "Then I'll ask elsewhere."
Balor exhaled, relieved. "If you must know,巫毒诸神 might still be seeking vengeance. They suspect the native gods took their people."
He paused, then added, "But tread carefully. The ones from below are growing restless. If you're truly hunting Yurona, you'll find her near the water's edge."
Lin Xiang stood, her presence alone enough to make the very air tremble.
Outside, the moonlight cast pale reflections upon the canal.
Three girls awaited rescue.
And she would tear the world apart to bring them home.