Chapter 117: Let’s Play a Game

“Let’s play a game,” the voice whispered. “A simple one. Find the key. It’s somewhere in this house. Use it on any door, and you may leave.”

“A key,” Su Yao said. “How mundane.”

“Ah, but it’s a special key,” the voice crooned. “It does not like to be found and fights back. You see, it has a taste for souls. The last six players, well, you saw how they ended their game.”

A metallic jingling echoed from a distant room.

“The rules are simple,” the voice continued. “Find the key before the house decides it prefers you as a permanent fixture. Or before the key decides to find you first. I do so hope you will provide more sport than the others.”

A grandfather clock in the vanished hallway began to chime, its sound distorted.

“Why bother with this childish game?” Su Yao asked. “If you have the power to manipulate this space, why not be productive and focus on breaking your confinement entirely?”

The voice chuckled. “But I’m being productive. My confinement is a matter of boundaries. This house is the seal. If I make all of Beijing my house, then I’m still technically within the seal, am I not?”

There was a pause. Shadows crept along the ceiling, stretching outward in lines.

“No one can act against me because the only alternative is to shatter the seal completely, which would release me fully. And that, my dear guest, is a far worse outcome for every living soul in this city. So, they tolerate my expansion. It’s a delightful paradox, don’t you think?”

So that’s its plan. It’s using the seal’s own rules against the city, turning a containment field into a growing dominion.

“A clever strategy,” she said. “But it relies on everyone else preferring a slow corruption over a swift disaster. It’s a gamble.”

“Life is a gamble,” the voice purred. “Now, about that key, I suggest you start looking. The house is growing impatient.”

A door materialized on the wall to her left, creaking open to reveal a hallway that hadn’t been there before. The jingling sound returned, closer this time.

The caretaker doll stood at the end of the newly appeared hallway. “Miss? What are you doing? The tour is over. See? The exit is back that way.” She gestured toward the solid wall of plaster and silk wallpaper.

“I seem to be lost,” Su Yao said. “The layout of the house is confusing. Could you show me the way out?”

“Of course! It’s just through here.” The doll turned and began walking down the new hallway that stretched and warped with each step. “The owners are always doing renovations. It can be disorienting.”

Renovations, a charming euphemism for spatial manipulation. Su Yao followed. Her senses tracked the jingling sound moving parallel to them, just behind the walls.

“Tell me,” Su Yao asked. “Have you ever seen a key? A large, old one? I think I may have dropped mine.”

The doll stopped walking and turned. “A key? No, miss. The owners handle all the locks. We don’t need keys here.” She resumed walking. “We’re almost there.”

“The owners,” Su Yao began. “Who are they, exactly? I’d like to know who to thank for such a unique property.”

“Why, it’s Count Blue and his associates, Countess White and Count Red. They are very particular about the house’s atmosphere.”

The French flag. Blue for the aristocratic authority, white for the purity of its perceived domain, and red for the blood and revolution it embodies.

“Fascinating,” Su Yao murmured. The jingling sound grew louder, now carrying an undertone of sharpening metal. The doll was leading her straight toward it. It presents itself as a noble household, but it’s a tripartite prison warden. And it wants to add me to its collection.

The doll pushed open the door at the end of the hall and stepped through. Su Yao followed, her energy coiled to strike.

She entered a greenhouse. Sunlight streamed through the grimy glass ceiling, illuminating rows of ordinary potted plants. The jingling sound vanished.

It’s just a greenhouse. Su Yao scanned the room and noticed the plants were well-tended. The doll stood smiling by a watering can.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” the doll said. “The Counts enjoy gardening.”

Su Yao’s eyes narrowed. The house had led her here, but for what purpose? This is a delay tactic. A waste of my time.

She turned to leave, but the doll called out behind her. “Wait. Don’t leave yet. I’ve something to say.”

Su Yao paused and looked back. The doll’s demeanor had changed. Its smile was gone.

“I’m the White Countess,” the doll said. “This greenhouse is my domain. That entity you spoke with has no power here.”

Su Yao studied the doll. Her senses reached out. The spiritual pressure has shifted. This is no mere puppet. “Who exactly is the entity?” she asked.

The White Countess met her gaze.“My former boss. One of the governors of Gehenna.”

Su Yao’s eyebrows rose. That explains the Church’s desperation.

“Elaborate,” she commanded, crossing her arms.

“The Illuminati, in their infinite arrogance,” the White Countess stated. “Attempted a grand ritual on this site. Their goal was to forcibly merge the human realm of Assiah with the demonic plane of Gehenna. They believed this would ‘return the world to the original state from which both darkness and light originated.’ It was a poetic, if catastrophically naive, ambition.”

Su Yao stared. “The Illuminati is real?”

“Of course they are,” the Countess replied. “They are just very bad at their jobs. The Catholic Church discovered the ritual mid-casting. The resulting containment field is what you see now. The ritual was unsuccessful, mostly. It failed to merge the worlds and created an unstable and angry leak.”

“So the ‘entity’ is a governor of Gehenna, partially summoned and now trapped here by the Church’s seal,” Su Yao summarized. “And you were its subordinate.”

“I was. Now I’m a warden, a preferable occupation.” The White Countess gestured to the plants around them. “My domain is order. Its is consumption. Our interests no longer align.”

“And the key?” Su Yao asked.

“Is a piece of the original ritual focus. It’s as dangerous as the entity itself. Finding it’s the only way to placate the house’s hunger and leave.” The Countess looked toward the greenhouse door. “But be swift. My former boss isn’t patient.”

Su Yao looked at the White Countess. “How can I trust the information you’re giving me? You’re part of this house, and you were its subordinate.”

The Countess smiled. “You either believe me or you do not. It’s fine. In fact, doubting me is a smart move. I’m a demon, after all. Deception is in my nature.”

She picked up the watering can and tended to a nearby orchid. “But the key is real, and it’s your only way out. Whether you trust my motives or not, that fact remains.”

She’s not denying her nature, which makes her slightly more credible, but only slightly. Su Yao weighed her options. The entity was a governor of Gehenna, and the key was a piece of the ritual. Trusting a demon was risky, but staying trapped was riskier.

Especially if the entity trapping her was powerful enough to block any attempts at teleportation. She could feel something was locking her down here, pinning her in place.

If she hesitated too long, that pressure would only tighten, and demons were always willing to wait.

“Fine,” Su Yao said, turning toward the greenhouse door. “I’ll find this key myself. But if you’re leading me into a trap, I’ll make sure you’re the first to regret it.”

The Countess nodded. “As expected. Good luck.”

Su Yao stepped out of the greenhouse, the humid air giving way to the mansion’s chilling stillness. The persistent jingling sound started again from a nearby corridor. She followed it.

The Illuminati’s arrogance unleashed this Gehenna governor, and now I’m stuck cleaning up their mess. They should be the ones facing this.

The jingling stopped behind a large oak door. She placed a hand on the wood, feeling a faint vibration. This is it. She pushed the door open.

Inside was a lavish study, filled with shelves of decaying books and a massive desk. On the desk sat an ornate iron key, glowing with a malevolent purple light.

“Finally,” Su Yao muttered, stepping forward.

But as she reached for the key, the door slammed shut behind her. The voice of the entity echoed through the room. “Ah, you found it. But the key has a mind of its own. It must accept you.”

The key levitated, pointing at her like a weapon.

So it wants a fight. Su Yao smiled. “Let’s see if it accepts being melted down for scrap.”

The voice echoed around the study. “That is a keyblade. A weapon that can unlock any lock, be it physical, spiritual, or the very secrets of a heart. It can also seal them shut. The keyblade chooses its wielder based on the strength of their heart.”

Su Yao’s eyes narrowed. A keyblade? Another pretentious name for a troublesome artifact. “I’ve no interest in its preferences,” she said. “It will yield or be destroyed.”

The keyblade glowed brighter, hovering in the air. It shot toward her with blinding speed, aiming to touch her chest.

It dares to target my core? Su Yao phased sideways. The keyblade whistled past her. She summoned her Void-Severing Glaive. The blade shimmered with primordial energy. “Your party tricks are tiresome.”

She swung the glaive, but the keyblade twisted in mid-air and parried the strike with a metallic clang that reverberated through the room. Sparks of purple and silver light erupted from the impact.

The voice laughed. “It resists! The keyblade has a will of its own. You can’t simply break it without confronting what it represents.”

“Watch me,” Su Yao growled, channeling more power into her glaive. The air crackled as she prepared for another strike.

Her Void-Severing Glaive connected with the keyblade in a shower of sparks, but the glaive’s edge failed to even scratch the keyblade’s surface.

It really is unbreakable.

The entity’s voice whispered, “I told you. It’s a concept given form. You can’t break a law of reality with brute force.”

Su Yao dismissed the glaive, fixing her gaze on the keyblade. If breaking it’s impossible, it must be mastered. Or subverted. It chose its wielder based on the heart? What a foolish, sentimental requirement.

The keyblade shot toward her again. Instead of dodging, she stood her ground and let it come within inches of her chest. She could feel its intent to connect and judge the landscape of her soul.

A key that unlocks hearts. Very well. Let it try. She opened her spiritual defenses. “Go on then,” she taunted the floating weapon. “See what you find. Let’s see if you can handle what I’m.”

The keyblade pressed forward. Its light flared as it attempted to touch her core. Her mind was already working on how to twist its connection into a leash. If it wanted to see her heart, it would get a front-row seat to the fury of a Nine-Tailed Heavenly Fox.

Its tip touched the space over Su Yao’s heart. A violet light erupted, engulfing the study. Images flashed through the connection: the eternal revelry of the Jade Mountain, the bitter taste of betrayal, the mundane struggles of Xiao Ling, and the iron will that now governed it all.

The keyblade shuddered, its glow flickering.

Good, let it understand the weight it presumes to judge.

The keyblade tried to pull back, but Su Yao’s spiritual energy clamped down, trapping it in the connection. “You sought to unlock my heart,” she said. “Now you will serve it.”

She poured her will into the keyblade. The keyblade’s purple light strained against a rising silver aura. It vibrated as it resisted, but Su Yao’s consciousness was an ocean against its stream.

Submit, she commanded. The word echoed through the spiritual link.

The keyblade’s shuddering ceased. Its glow stabilized, now tinged with silver. It floated before her.

“Impossible!” The voice roared. “The keyblade chooses only pure hearts!”

Su Yao grasped the keyblade’s handle. “My heart is pure,” she said. “Pure ambition and power. Now, let’s discuss my exit.”

The silence in the study stretched. Then, the voice spoke again. “Take it and leave. This round is yours.”

A section of the wall behind the desk shimmered and dissolved, revealing the mansion’s main foyer and the front door standing ajar. Daylight streamed through the opening.

“But know this,” the voice hissed. “The next time we meet, this entire city will be my domain. My seal will be the city limits. There will be no door for you to find.”

Su Yao strode through the new opening, the keyblade in her hand. As she crossed the threshold of the front door, the oppressive spiritual pressure vanished. She stood back on the ordinary Beijing street. The rusted gate of Chaonei No. 81 was behind her.

She glanced down at the now inert keyblade. A useful trophy, and a potential tool. She willed it away, and it vanished into a pocket dimension.

The entity’s threat was a problem for another day. She turned and walked away, blending back into the flow of the city.

Su Yao had taken only a few steps from the rusted gate when the air beside her shimmered. The porcelain doll form of the White Countess appeared, standing on the sidewalk.

“That was well handled,” the Countess said. “But you should know that place isn’t unique. There are many such wounds in the world, places where realms have torn and festered.”

“How many of them are in China?” Su Yao asked.

“Only one,” the White Countess replied. “The Illuminati were not overly prolific here. Their failures are scattered elsewhere. Europe is particularly patchwork. The closest one is in Vladivostok.”

“Then the rest aren’t my problem,” Su Yao said.

The doll nodded. “A practical perspective.” With that, her form dissolved into a wisp of mist that was swallowed by the city’s haze.

Su Yao turned a corner, and a smiling man blocked her path. He was young, with blond hair and wearing the stark black garb of a Catholic priest. His presence was a quiet void in the city’s spiritual noise.

She stopped. “Am I in trouble?”

“On the contrary,” the man said. “I’m Father Cyphre. I observed your recent real estate assessment. Such an impressive performance.”

“The property failed to meet my standards,” Su Yao replied.

“Naturally. We find it often does. The situation there is complex. Your decision to leave the seal intact was wise.”

“It was not my mess to clean.” She moved to walk past him.

“Wait,” he said, stepping into her path. “A being of your power operating with such discretion is rare. The Church values stability. Should you ever encounter another such ‘mess’ you deem worth cleaning, we might find our interests aligned.”

“Noted.” She walked around him. He let her go this time. When she glanced back a moment later, the street was empty. Another player on the board.

At least the priest didn’t launch into the usual ‘our lord and savior Jesus Christ’ routine. Su Yao walked away. He led with practicality. An acknowledgment of power and an offer of aligned interests are far more palatable than sanctimonious preaching.

Rounding another corner, Su Yao left the quiet street behind and stepped into the flow of the city.

Father Cyphre? An interesting name. She filed it away under ‘Potential Resources – Conditional.’ The Church understands realpolitik when faced with something it can’t control. It makes them marginally less dull to deal with.

For now, the city awaited. She had other places to be, such as Tiananmen Square.