Chapter 9: Blood Prophecy

Act I: Phantom in the Pool

Beneath Taiye Pool's ice, frozen under a moonless sky, Shen Qinghuan glided on magnetic skates crafted by Qingluan. Zhuque aimed a modified bronze spotlight, its UV beam piercing three feet of ice to illuminate Bao'er's pallid face—her earring still pulsed, translating death throes into Morse code: "...Cui...Nine Palaces..."

"Watch out!" Qingluan yanked Qinghuan aside as seven bronze statues rose beneath the ice. Each chest cavity housed shattered Huawei phones, the final statue bearing Qinghuan's likeness—button cell batteries embedded in its eye sockets screeching static.

Qinghuan's serpent sigil writhed to her ear as Bluetooth earpieces intercepted Chen Guodong's final call: "...Mingtang crypt requires living sacrifices..." She slashed the ice with a silver hairpin. Bao'er's corpse surfaced, her ankle's faded Xuanji Mark revealing tampered Oracle Bone script under UV light—the third stroke of "loyalty" elongated into an arrow pointing northeast.

Act II: Inverted Mechanism

Past the third watch, Qinghuan stormed the Celestial Bureau's vault. Qingluan's DNA earrings disengaged triple iron locks while Zhuque's magnetic powder coalesced into Luoyang's Mingtang hologram. When aligned with Bao'er's altered mark, the floor collapsed—

Below lay an altar with seven mermaid-oil lamps forming an inverted Big Dipper. Lady Cui's skeleton hung at the nexus, her serpent sigil faded to ashen gray. A rusted AirPods protruded from her skull, its case engraved: "Ciyun Temple Vault 203, Shanghai."

"Mistress, this..." Zhuque handed over a bronze casket. Inside lay the Warring States jade disc Qinghuan wore during her timequake, its new QR code linking to a dark web livestream—a tattoo artist inked a corrupted Xuanji Mark onto a client's instep. The mirror behind reflected the customer: Chen Guodong's half-rotted face.

Act III: Twin Peril

Empress Wu's gold-tipped fingers closed around Qinghuan's throat as Linde Hall's mirrors fractured reality—Tang-era Qinghuan dangled mid-air while her modern counterpart was shoved onto Shanghai subway tracks. Under train lights, the assailant's crimson skirts billowed, revealing Qinghuan's own face.

"You thought killing Cui would end this?" Empress Wu ripped her robes open—a serpent sigil devoured her abdomen. "The moment your father buried that jade in the dragon vein, Shen women became destined sacrifices!"

Qinghuan choked blood, her neck's barcode dissolving crimson. A supermarket scanner's beep echoed—Qingluan aimed it at Empress Wu's sigil. The screen flashed: "Seventh Sacrifice Verified."

Act IV: Epochs' Offering

At Mingtang's pinnacle, Qinghuan bared her back—a nano-cinnabar star chart mirroring Lujiazui's surveillance grid. Noon sunlight ignited the tattoo, projecting Ciyun Temple's live feed across Luoyang's skies: her mother pried open the final brick with the taotie's right eye.

"Now!" Qinghuan leapt into the sundial's shadow. Reality tore—her serpent sigil dissolved into data streams. She saw infinite selves: laundering maids, drafting architects, crypt carvers—all bearing Xuanji Marks, all dangling DNA earrings.

Act V: The Murderer Revealed

Qinghuan awoke in the Observatory's vault as Zhuque sprinkled magnetic dust over the armillary sphere. Nanoparticles reconstructed the crime: three months prior, Bao'er swapped the jade disc, only to be silenced by Lady Cui. Dying, Bao'er drew a bloody arrow later altered by Empress Wu—the extended stroke, a double-frame!

"The true killer is—" Qingluan's chest exploded mid-sentence. Qinghuan turned to see her clone perched on beams, crossbow aimed. The clone's Xuanji Mark glowed crimson—the same pattern inked on Chen Guodong.

"The Sun-Moon Supremacy requires not seven sacrifices," the clone sneered, firing. "But seven thousand Shen Qinghuans across timelines."

The bolt pierced Qinghuan's heart as her serpent sigil slithered into Empress Wu's shadow. In modern Shanghai, her mother finally breached the crypt—inside lay a perfectly preserved Tang corpse, its DNA-matching serpent sigil pulsing.

Epilogue: Ouroboros

As Mingtang crumbled, Qinghuan opened her eyes in an ICU. Nurses screamed—her Xuanji Mark bled freely, heart monitor synced to Tang star charts. Through storm-lashed windows, a red-clad woman passed beneath a lightning-struck umbrella, its Bagua surface refracting rain into countless Qinghuan reflections—

Each reflection's ankle bore a bleeding Xuanji Mark.

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