Chapter 10: The Thirteenth Soul

The black light from Jiang Chen's staff sent Madam Zhao flying backward. She crashed through a display of ceramic dogs, shattering them into a rain of porcelain shards. Her body—no, the body she'd stolen—lay twisted among the debris, but her soul had already detached, hovering like smoke above the destruction.

"Clever boy," she said, her voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere. "But you still don't understand what you're dealing with."

Jiang Chen gripped his staff with both hands. The tremors in his fingers had stopped. Good. Anger was better than fear. "I understand you're a dead woman who doesn't know when to quit."

"Dead woman?" She laughed. "I've been dead for seventeen years. I've possessed thirty-seven bodies. I've seen the inside of four prisons, two asylums, and one embassy. You think a glowing stick scares me?"

The door behind him burst open.

Officer Wang stood in the doorway, his service pistol drawn, his eyes wide. "Jiang Chen? What the hell—"

"Get back!" Jiang Chen shouted. "She's a—"

But Madam Zhao was faster. Her soul streaked past him, a blur of gray smoke, and slammed into Officer Wang's chest. The officer's body went rigid. His eyes rolled back, then snapped forward again—but they weren't his eyes anymore. They were hers.

"Hello again," she said with Officer Wang's mouth. She raised his pistol and pointed it at Jiang Chen's head. "Now. Let's try this again. You're going to take me to Diyu, and I'm going to talk to your judges, and you're going to get your precious revenge. Or..."

She pulled back the hammer.

"Or I put a bullet in your head and find another soul reaper. There are always more of you. The turnover rate in Diyu is terrible."

Jiang Chen didn't move. He could feel his own death in the shape of that barrel, remembered the cold table, the sting of the needle, the slow fade into nothing. But he wasn't that man anymore. He was something else now.

"You know what I learned in prison?" he said.

"I don't care."

"Everyone's afraid of the thing that kills them. But once you've already died, there's nothing left to fear."

He raised his staff and swung it not at her, but at the ground between them. Black light erupted like a geyser, splitting the floorboards, sending her stumbling backward. Before she could recover, he was already moving, closing the distance in three steps, bringing the staff around in a horizontal arc aimed at her—Wang's—head.

She ducked. The staff whistled past, taking a chunk of the doorframe with it.

"You'll kill him!" she screamed.

"I'll save him."

He reversed his grip and drove the butt of the staff into her—Wang's—solar plexus. The officer's body folded. His soul flickered, and for a split second, Jiang Chen saw two faces superimposed over each other: Wang's confused expression and Madam Zhao's snarling grin.

He grabbed her soul by its throat.

"You want to possess someone?" he said, pulling her out of Wang's body like a fish from water. "Try possessing a soul reaper."

She twisted in his grip, her form writhing like smoke in a hurricane. But she couldn't escape. The staff's power held her, draining her strength, pulling her deeper into his grasp.

"You're making a mistake," she hissed. "I know things. I know who killed you. I know who paid the judge. I know the whole chain—from the hit to the cover-up to the clean-up. And if you take me to Diyu, the judges will wipe me clean, and you'll never know."

"I'll find out on my own."

"No. You won't." Her voice dropped, became something almost gentle. "Because the person who killed you isn't some random criminal. It's not a gangster or a politician. It's someone inside Diyu."

Jiang Chen's grip faltered.

"What?"

"Think about it. Who had access to your file? Who could forge evidence? Who could corrupt a mortal judge without leaving a trace?" She smiled with Wang's borrowed lips, which were now blue and trembling. "A soul reaper. Maybe even one of your trainers."

"That's impossible."

"Is it? You were executed three weeks ago. You were recruited within days. You were trained, armed, and sent into the field with barely any supervision. Doesn't that seem a little convenient?" She tilted Wang's head. "They needed you dead and working for them. Fast. Before anyone could ask questions."

Jiang Chen's mind raced. The old woman at the gate. The judges in their chambers. The other trainees—there were only five of them. The turnover rate, she'd said. The terrible turnover rate.

"Who?" he demanded. "Give me a name."

"I told you. I'll talk to the judges."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." She pointed at Officer Wang, who was groaning on the floor, clutching his chest. "Look at him. He has a family. A wife. Two kids. Picture of them on his desk. You want to be responsible for what happens to them when I leave his body with a bullet in his brain?"

Jiang Chen looked at Wang. The officer was trying to stand, his face pale, his hands shaking. He looked like a man who'd just seen a ghost—which, technically, he had.

"You're a monster," Jiang Chen said.

"I'm a survivor." Madam Zhao's soul pulsed, growing stronger again. "And I've survived this long because I know how to make deals. Here's my final offer: Take me to Diyu. Let me speak to the judges. I'll tell them everything I know about your death, and I'll submit to judgment afterward. No tricks. No escapes. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing."

"Then bind me." She extended her hands. "Use your staff. Tie my soul to yours. If I try anything, you can destroy me instantly."

Jiang Chen hesitated. It was possible. The staff could bind souls, create chains of black light that could only be broken by the reaper who forged them. He'd seen it done in training. He'd never done it himself.

"I don't know how."

"I'll teach you." She smiled. "I've been possessing people for seventeen years. You think I don't know soul magic? I've learned from every reaper who tried to catch me. Their techniques. Their weaknesses. Their secrets."

She was playing him. He knew she was playing him. But she was also the only person who could give him the truth.

"Fine." He raised his staff. "Tell me what to do."

"Focus on the staff. Feel the energy flowing through it. That's your connection to Diyu, to the judges, to the laws of death." Her voice became soft, hypnotic. "Now imagine that energy as a rope. A chain. Something physical. See it in your mind."

He did. He saw black threads emerging from the staff, winding around her soul like serpents.

"Now bind me. Wrap the chain around my soul. Tie it tight. Make it so I can't move without your permission, can't speak without your consent, can't think without your knowledge."

The threads tightened. They wrapped around her like a cocoon, pulsing with dark light. He felt her inside his mind now, a presence at the edge of his consciousness. He could feel her thoughts, her memories, her intentions.

And she could feel his.

"Interesting," she murmured. "You really don't know who killed you. You don't even have a guess."

"No."

"Then let's go to Diyu." She smiled, and for the first time, it wasn't a cruel smile. It was almost sad. "Let's find out together."

---

The journey back to the underworld was faster this time. The veil parted like water, and the land of the dead opened before them: gray plains stretching to infinity, rivers of souls flowing toward judgment, and in the distance, the black towers of Diyu rising like thorns from the earth.

Madam Zhao floated beside him, bound by the chains of his staff. She didn't speak. She didn't try to escape. She just watched the landscape with an expression he couldn't read.

"How many times have you been here?" he asked.

"Seventeen years ago, when I first died. They judged me, sentenced me to the nineteenth level of hell for my crimes. I escaped before they could take me." She paused. "I've been running ever since."

"And now?"

"Now I'm tired." She looked at him. "You think I want to spend eternity in hell? I don't. But I've been alive for seventeen years after my death, stealing bodies, stealing lives, stealing moments. That's more than most souls get. Maybe it's time to pay my debts."

They approached the gates. The old woman was there, sitting on her stool, knitting something that looked like a shroud. She looked up as they approached, her eyes narrowing.

"You caught her."

"Yes."

"And bound her to your soul." The old woman's needles stopped. "That's dangerous, boy. She can see everything you see. Know everything you know. If she finds a weakness—"

"I'll handle it."

The old woman shrugged. "Your funeral. Or hers. At this point, who can tell?" She gestured toward the gates. "The judges are waiting. They've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

"They always know when a reaper returns with a soul." She smiled, showing teeth like yellowed pearls. "Especially a soul as old as this one."

The gates swung open.

Jiang Chen led Madam Zhao through the courtyard, past the halls of judgment, toward the chamber where the Ten Judges sat. The air grew heavy with the weight of centuries. The walls pulsed with the screams of the damned.

"Remember," Madam Zhao whispered. "They're not your friends. They're not on your side. They're judges. They serve the law, not justice."

"I know."

"Do you? Because when they hear what I have to say, they're going to have a choice: believe a dead con woman or believe one of their own." She looked at him. "And they'll always choose their own."

They reached the chamber doors. They were black iron, carved with the faces of the dead, their mouths open in eternal screams.

Jiang Chen pushed them open.

The Ten Judges sat on their thrones, their faces hidden in shadow. The air crackled with power. The temperature dropped below freezing.

"Jiang Chen," the First Judge said, his voice like grinding stones. "You have returned with the soul of Madam Zhao."

"Yes."

"And you have bound her to your staff."

"Yes."

"A dangerous choice." The First Judge leaned forward. "But we trust your judgment. Bring her forward."

Jiang Chen stepped aside. Madam Zhao floated past him, her chains dragging on the floor. She stopped before the judges and bowed her head.

"Madam Zhao," the First Judge said. "You have been a fugitive for seventeen years. You have killed two soul reapers. You have possessed thirty-seven bodies. Your crimes are numerous and grave."

"I know."

"Have you anything to say before we pass judgment?"

She raised her head. "Yes." She turned to look at Jiang Chen. "I want to tell him who killed him."

The chamber went silent.

The First Judge's voice, when it came, was ice. "We do not discuss mortal affairs here."

"Then why did you recruit him?" Madam Zhao smiled. "Why did you give him power? Why did you send