The Headless Feast

Light blazed within the Fulong Pawnshop, a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness outside. Meng Xuanye's banquets always seemed to defy the gloom.

The main hall had been transformed into a feast chamber. Twelve 'Never-Snuff' lanterns hung from the rafters, their specially treated fish-scale shades glowing with a soft, yellow light. Fueled by oil mixed with sulfur and cinnabar, they pushed back the encroaching purple miasma, casting an eerie, supposedly protective, luminescence.

High above the central table, a banner proclaimed in bold, forceful script: "Three Families Reconciliation Feast." Yet, beneath the powerful strokes lay an undeniable chill.

The long table groaned under the weight of exotic delicacies. At its center sat a massive bronze cauldron, radiating an intense, cloying aroma from the strange brew simmering within. The cauldron itself was unsettlingly ornate, carved with the twelve zodiac animals, each creature's eyes inlaid with glittering red gemstones that seemed to flicker with malevolent life in the lamplight.

Meng Xuanye stood at the head of the table. His left eye, a dead piece of purple stone, was a chilling void, while his right burned with an unnatural brightness. Dressed in a severe black robe cinched with a silver cord, he possessed an air both imposing and deeply unsettling.

"Honored guests, pray, be seated." His voice was quiet, yet it carried an undeniable weight, a command that brooked no refusal.

Cai Qingluan was the first to arrive. She'd forgone her usual accountant's attire for traditional Miao clothing, a deep blue skirt embroidered with intricate patterns, the reverse-edged Miao Dao hanging prominently at her waist. Her gaze swept the hall, lingering on the twelve strange lanterns, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"What is Third Master planning?" she wondered silently, masking her unease as she took the seat to Meng Xuanye's left.

Zhang Feidie entered soon after, her pale skin stark against her simple white dress. The butterfly birthmark on her left shoulder seemed darker tonight, almost pulsing, the faint outline of wings writhing beneath her skin. Her eyes met Cai Qingluan's for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of shared vigilance passing between them.

The last to arrive was Hong Jiu, still enveloped in his heavy scarf, hiding the scar that marred his throat. His sharp eyes fixed on the bronze cauldron, and he visibly stiffened. Unconsciously, his fingers flickered through a strange, warding gesture, as if trying to repel some unseen evil.

"Now that everyone is present, let the feast officially begin," Meng Xuanye said, a smile touching his lips but not reaching his eyes. "I have invited the three of you today to discuss matters of great importance."

He clapped his hands. Several attendants entered silently, each carrying an exquisite ewer. The vessels themselves were bizarre, crafted from a strange purple material, covered in complex engravings, the spout shaped like a dragon's head.

"This is my treasured 'Thousand Day Drunk,' vintage from the twentieth year of Guangxu," Meng Xuanye announced, gesturing for the attendants to pour. "I brought it out specially today to share with you all."

The wine poured into the cups was a pale violet, emitting a peculiar, heady fragrance that seemed to bewitch the senses.

Cai Qingluan stared into her cup, motionless. Zhang Feidie mirrored her hesitation. Only Hong Jiu picked up his cup, brought it close to his nose, sniffed cautiously... then abruptly set it back down, a flicker of alarm crossing his eyes.

"What's this? Are my esteemed guests not showing me face?" Meng Xuanye inquired, the smile still fixed, but the amusement gone from his tone.

"Third Master... this wine..." Cai Qingluan began, her voice steady. "Has something... special been added?"

Meng Xuanye's smile deepened. "Lady Cai is perceptive indeed. Yes, this wine is quite unique. It contains a precious ingredient—the essence of Spirit Vexongrass."

Zhang Feidie gasped, her face paling further. "Spirit Vexongrass? But that's..."

"Precisely the herb passed down in Lady Hong's family," Meng Xuanye interrupted smoothly. "However, this Spirit Vexongrass has mutated. It has become a vessel for the 'Living Gu.' And this 'Thousand Day Drunk'... is the key to activating it."

The atmosphere in the hall snapped taut. Cai Qingluan's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her Miao Dao. Zhang Feidie clutched her shoulder, covering the butterfly mark. Hong Jiu's eyes narrowed, sharp as daggers.

"Third Master," Cai Qingluan's voice was dangerously low. "What is the meaning of this?"

Meng Xuanye ignored her, instead pulling the rolled Miasma Mother Diagram from his robes, slowly unfurling it on the table.

"Three hundred years ago," he began, his voice taking on that same eerie, storytelling cadence, "the miasma plague devastated Tingjiang. Our ancestors—Meng, Cai, and Zhang—joined forces, using special methods to create an antidote. That antidote required three things: the sulfur of the Saltpeter Refiner, the mercury sand of the Stele Guardian, and the heart's blood of the Living Gu."

He pointed to the painted figure on the scroll. "This... is the 'Miasma Mother,' the plague incarnate. She was sealed by our ancestors in the alchemy furnace on River Heart Island. But the seal weakens every hundred years. The last time was during the early Republic. Our predecessors joined forces again to reinforce it. And now... the three-hundred-year limit is reached. The seal is broken. The Miasma Mother is about to return."

"So today's feast..." Cai Qingluan's voice turned to ice. "Is meant to...?"

"Reenact the ritual of three hundred years ago. To seal the Miasma Mother once more," Meng Xuanye said calmly. "And for that, I require the cooperation of our three families."

"You want us to drink this 'Thousand Day Drunk'..." Zhang Feidie asked, her voice trembling slightly. "To activate the... traits... within us?"

Meng Xuanye nodded. "Precisely. Cai Qingluan carries the bloodline of the Saltpeter Refiner. Hong Jiu is the descendant of the Stele Guardians. And you, Zhang Feidie... you are the vessel of the Living Gu. Only when these three powers unite can the Miasma Mother be sealed again."

"And if we refuse?" Cai Qingluan asked coldly.

The smile vanished completely from Meng Xuanye's face, replaced by a chilling gravity. "Then all of Tingjiang, and the hundreds of miles surrounding it, will be devoured by the purple miasma. You have seen its power—it calcifies eyes, mutates plants. Eventually," he gestured to his own stone eye, "it will turn every living creature into stone, just like this."

Just then, the purple miasma outside surged violently, pressing against the windows like a physical force. The twelve 'Never-Snuff' lanterns flickered wildly, their light threatening to die.

"Time grows short," Meng Xuanye urged. "Drink the 'Thousand Day Drunk.' Then follow me to the alchemy furnace on River Heart Island. We must complete the sealing ritual."

Cai Qingluan and Zhang Feidie exchanged a look, fear and hesitation warring in their eyes. Hong Jiu, however, stared intently at Meng Xuanye, his gaze sharp with suspicion.

Suddenly, Hong Jiu made a strange gesture. He pointed emphatically at the bronze cauldron, then tapped his own throat, and finally drew a sharp line across it with his finger.

Cai Qingluan understood his sign language instantly. Her face changed. "You're saying... the brew in the cauldron..."

Hong Jiu nodded grimly, his eyes filled with warning.

Meng Xuanye's expression darkened into a scowl. "It seems Hong Jiu has figured it out. Very well. The brew in the cauldron is indeed... problematic. It wasn't made to seal the Miasma Mother. It was made... to release her."

Before the words fully registered, Meng Xuanye snatched up the purple ewer and poured its entire contents into the steaming cauldron. Instantly, the brew turned a deep, sickening violet, releasing a pungent, acrid stench.

"Three hundred years!" Meng Xuanye roared, his voice laced with manic fervor. "It's time for the Miasma Mother to see the sun again!"

Cai Qingluan reacted with lightning speed. Her Miao Dao flashed out, a streak of silver light aimed directly at Meng Xuanye's throat. "Stop!"

But it was too late. The liquid in the cauldron boiled furiously, thick purple steam rising and coalescing into the hazy silhouette of a woman. The shape solidified rapidly, resolving into a figure in ancient robes, her hair flowing like grotesque seaweed, her eyes burning with purple light.

"Miasma Mother..." Zhang Feidie choked out, the butterfly mark on her shoulder now writhing violently, as if trying to tear itself free.

In that split second, Hong Jiu moved. He didn't attack Meng Xuanye, but instead launched himself towards the nearest 'Never-Snuff' lantern. His hands formed a complex mudra, and from his throat came a bizarre, grating, metallic shriek—the first sound they had ever heard him make. It sounded like metal grinding against metal.

"Sever... Lamp... Break... Array!"

Cai Qingluan understood instantly. Her Miao Dao blurred, slicing through the air in a graceful arc. With a snap, the first lantern's cord was severed. The lamp crashed to the floor, shattering, the spilled oil instantly flaring into a strange, complex sigil on the ground.

"Quick... Sever... All... Lamps!" Hong Jiu shrieked again in that unnatural metallic voice.

No hesitation now. Cai Qingluan became a whirlwind of motion, her blade dancing. One by one, the twelve 'Never-Snuff' lanterns were cut down. Each time a lamp fell, its spilled oil formed another glowing sigil, until twelve symbols linked together, forming a complete, intricate binding array on the floor, trapping the Miasma Mother's apparition within its center.

"No!" Meng Xuanye roared, lunging forward, but he was too slow.

As the last lamp crashed down, the entire array flared with blinding light. The Miasma Mother's phantom form let out a soul-piercing shriek, then dissolved like smoke. The suffocating purple miasma outside instantly receded, pulling back from the windows like a retreating tide.

The hall was a wreck. Shards of the twelve lanterns littered the floor. The great bronze cauldron lay cracked in half, its caustic contents spilling across the ground, sizzling and eating away at the floorboards.

Cai Qingluan stood panting, her Miao Dao still gripped tightly, its tip leveled at Meng Xuanye. "Now," she gasped, "it's your turn to explain, Third Master."

But as she turned fully towards him, horror choked the words in her throat. Meng Xuanye lay sprawled on the floor. His head was gone, severed cleanly from his body as if by an impossibly sharp blade. There wasn't a single drop of blood. More bizarre still, his right hand tightly clutched half of a chiwen-shaped jade pendant, engraved with a strange symbol that matched one on the Miasma Mother Diagram.

"What... What happened?" Zhang Feidie stammered, eyes wide with terror. "Who killed Meng Xuanye?"

Cai Qingluan and Hong Jiu stared at each other, utter shock and confusion mirrored in their eyes.

Then, impossibly, Meng Xuanye's headless corpse twitched. The jade pendant in its hand began to pulse with a faint purple light. And from the empty air above the body, a cold, chilling voice whispered:

"The Headless Feast... has only just begun..."

Outside the window, though the purple miasma had vanished, the pillar of light from River Heart Island blazed brighter than ever, a violet sword piercing the night sky.

The three-hundred-year curse was far from broken. It couldn't be stopped.