Chapter 32: The Forest of Paper Talismans

 

The Icarus transport groaned as it settled into the mud of the bamboo forest. The landing had been rough—a controlled crash through a canopy of iron-hard bamboo that shattered the ship’s wings but kept the hull intact.

Scarlett kicked open the emergency hatch, coughing as the thick, cloying mist of the Eastern Continent flooded the cabin. It didn't smell like pine and snow here. It smelled of wet earth, rotting lotus, and the distinct, metallic tang of cinnabar.

"Atmospheric analysis," Caleb’s voice came from behind her. It was flat, mechanical. He was standing in the shadows of the cargo bay, his silver eyes scanning the fog with a predator’s intensity. "Visibility: Zero. Threat level: Calculating."

"Stop calculating and start breathing, Caleb," Scarlett said, reaching back to grab his hand. His skin was ice-cold. The nanobots were working overtime to keep his rage in check. "We have 70 hours left. We need to find the Crimson Spire."

They stepped out into the forest. The bamboo here was black, towering fifty feet into the air like the bars of a massive cage. The fog was tinged with a faint, sickly red light, obscuring everything beyond a few meters.

"Movement," Caleb snapped, his head whipping to the left. "Twelve contacts. No heat signatures. No heartbeats."

"No heartbeats?" Scarlett frowned. "Vampires?"

"Negative. Biological density suggests... dead tissue. Reanimated."

Before Scarlett could process that, the fog parted.

They weren't wolves. They weren't vampires. The figures emerging from the bamboo were human corpses, their skin a terrifying shade of slate-grey. They wore tattered, ceremonial robes from an era long forgotten—high collars, embroidered dragons, and stiff, heavy fabric.

But what made Scarlett’s breath hitch wasn't their rotting faces. It was the yellow paper talisman glued to each of their foreheads.

The red ink on the paper glowed with a faint, spiritual rhythm.

"Jiangshi," Scarlett whispered, the word tasting of home and horror. "Hopping Vampires. But... who is controlling them?"

The lead Jiangshi let out a dry, rattling hiss. It didn't walk; it hopped, launching itself forward with rigid limbs but terrifying speed. Its fingernails were long, black daggers aimed straight for Caleb’s throat.

Caleb didn't flinch. "Target acquired."

He moved like a blur of silver violence. He caught the Jiangshi’s wrists mid-air, the sound of snapping bone echoing through the silent forest. With a brutal twist, he ripped the creature’s arms from its sockets and kicked it into a bamboo stalk, shattering the wood.

But the Jiangshi didn't stop. It stood up, armless, and hopped again.

"Physical damage ineffective," Caleb stated, his voice devoid of frustration. "Switching to dismemberment."

"Caleb, stop!" Scarlett shouted, realizing the danger. "You can't kill them with brute force! They're connected to a hive mind. If you destroy one, the energy just jumps to the others!"

She rushed forward, her hand diving into her pocket for her jade brush. But she didn't have her own paper. She had to improvise.

She bit her fingertip, drawing blood. As three more Jiangshi lunged at her, she didn't dodge. She stepped into their range.

“By the dust of the ancestors and the weight of the mountain, FREEZE!”

She slammed her bloody palm onto the forehead of the nearest Jiangshi, directly over the yellow talisman.

The creature froze instantly, suspended in mid-air as if gravity had forgotten it.

Scarlett grabbed the talisman from its face and looked at the inscription. Her blood ran cold. The calligraphy wasn't just Taoist script. It was a specific variation—a hidden signature used only by high-ranking elders of her original sect.

"The Cloud-Walking Style," Scarlett breathed, her hands trembling. "This isn't just magic from my world. This was written by someone who knew my Master."

Suddenly, a slow, rhythmic clapping echoed from the depths of the fog.

The remaining Jiangshi stopped their attack. They parted, forming a respectful corridor. Through the mist walked a figure that seemed to blend the elegance of the East with the darkness of the West.

He was tall, pale as moonlight, with long, silver hair tied back with a blood-red ribbon. He wore the high-collared coat of a Victorian aristocrat, but in his hand, he held a traditional bamboo flute. His eyes were the color of dried blood—classic Vampire.

"Subject 001-Alpha," the vampire said, his voice smooth as silk but cold as the grave. He looked at Caleb, then turned his gaze to Scarlett. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed his ageless face.

"And you," he murmured, tilting his head. "You smell like incense and dimensional dust. I haven't seen a Spirit-Weaver in... three thousand years."

He bowed, a gesture of mocking politeness. "I am Lord Valerius. Or, as your ship’s computer calls me, Subject 002-Beta. Welcome to my garden."

Caleb stepped in front of Scarlett, a low, mechanical growl vibrating in his chest. "Hostile entity identified. Prepare for termination."

"Stand down, weapon," Valerius said, waving his flute dismissively. "If you kill me, your cellular decay will consume you in less than three days. I can hear your cells screaming from here."

He looked at Scarlett, his red eyes narrowing. "You used the Stilling Curse on my guard dog. You are not from this timeline, are you, little weaver? Did the Old Gods send you to finish what they started?"

Scarlett stepped out from behind Caleb, her jade brush glowing with a warning light. "I’m not here for the gods, Valerius. I’m here for a trade. Your genetic stability for his life."

Valerius laughed, a sound that made the bamboo shiver. "A trade? You break into my domain, destroy my pets, and ask for a favor? The arrogance... it’s delicious."

He turned and began to walk back into the fog. "Follow me. If you can survive the path to the Spire without being eaten by what lurks in the mist, we might discuss this 'trade'. But be warned... the Jiangshi are the least of your worries here."

Caleb looked at Scarlett, the silver in his eyes warring with the gold. "Probability of trap: 99%."

"I know," Scarlett whispered, gripping his hand tight. "But he has the cure. And I recognize his magic. He’s the only link I have to my past."

They stepped into the fog, following the Vampire Lord deeper into a forest that felt disturbingly like a graveyard of two worlds.