Chapter 40: The Summoning Behind Silent Doors
The journey back to the Ling Estate was wrapped in silence so complete it felt sacred.
Rain murmured against the curved windshield of the hovering Rexora, its silver droplets chasing one another down the dark glass like falling stars. Outside, the world was a blur of storm and shadow, of mountains swallowed by mist and towers softened by rain.
Inside the car, Ling Mei sat still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the shifting world beyond, though her mind roared louder than the thunderclouds overhead.
Vroooom.
The sleek black vehicle surged forward like a phantom, weaving through the storm-laced skies. It moved faster than it ever had—too fast. As if trying to outrun the fate that waited at its end.
The mountains below bled into long, formless streaks. Forests and golden temples became rivers of light and gray. Time itself seemed to lose meaning.
Ling Mei closed her eyes.
She was no longer watching the world.
She was watching herself.
A girl trapped in an invisible cage—her name caught between duty and despair. Her fingers curled in her lap, clutching the edges of her uniform, as if trying to hold onto something solid. Anything.
The engagement.
A word. A sentence. A curse disguised as honor.
A lifetime decided without her voice.
"No," she whispered to herself, barely audible over the hum of the engines. Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it to silence the fear. "There has to be a way out…"
The city's eastern rim emerged from the storm.
Rolling hills rose like sleeping beasts beneath the rain, cradling the Ling Family estate in their stone arms. Mist swirled over ancient trees and jade terraces. And there, nestled upon the highest hill like a crown carved into the earth, stood the ancestral manor.
Timeless. Grand. Unforgiving.
The Rexora began to descend—smooth, silent, respectful. As if even the machine could feel the gravity of what was to come.
Below, the estate awakened.
Stone courtyards spread like lotus petals across the land, roofs curved like the wings of divine beasts. Spiritual wards shimmered faintly across the walls—sigils humming like buried hearts. This was not a house.
It was a monument.
"We're home," Eira said softly, her voice cutting through the silence like a candle in fog.
Ling Mei didn't answer.
Her gaze had dimmed, like a sun hidden behind layers of storm. She was there—but buried deep. Beneath fear. Beneath fury.
Her thoughts tangled. Could she plead with her father? Pretend illness? Escape to the mountains? Her mind hunted for exits like a trapped bird, wings bloodied from beating against invisible walls.
"Mei," Eira said again, this time reaching out.
Ling Mei flinched. Her eyes opened—startling emerald against the gray of the storm. A flicker of raw panic glimmered in them.
Eira reached out and gently rubbed the back of Ling Mei's hand, her warmth like the sun breaking through a storm. "It's going to be okay," she whispered, voice full of quiet strength—like an older sister anchoring a child in a sea of uncertainty.
Ling Mei gave a small nod. Her eyes were still clouded with worry, but somewhere within them, a flicker of courage stirred. She exhaled slowly and leaned back, her tense shoulders easing.
She looked ahead.
The estate gates towered before them.
Outside, two guards stood beneath the rain, clad in dark silver armor, unmoving. But when they saw the approaching vehicle, recognition lit their eyes.
Then, they moved.
Gears groaned. Ancient mechanisms hissed. The gates parted with reverence, as if unveiling a stage long prepared.
The vehicle slid inside.
Cherry blossoms fluttered across the cobbled path, petals kissing the windows like blessings or omens. Spiritual trees with bark like jade and leaves of gold lined the drive—each humming with ancestral power. Servants in gray and green parted with quiet reverence. Some bowed deeply. Others peeked curiously, their eyes filled with awe—or envy.
But Ling Mei saw none of it.
Her mind was a storm of war drums and chained memories.
The car slowed.
At last, it stopped before the manor. Stone dragons coiled around the entrance pillars. Thunder rolled above. Legacy pressed down from every stone.
A tall figure stood waiting.
Gray robes, crisp and clean. Silver beard, sharp as his jaw. Piercing blue eyes that had seen generations rise and fall.
Sebastian.
The Steward of the Ling Estate.
Bam.
The vehicle door hissed open.
Rain kissed the stone beneath Ling Mei's slippers as she stepped out, Eira a quiet shadow beside her.
"Greetings, Sebastian," Eira said, her tone graceful but cool.
The old man bowed, his voice warm with practiced charm. "Ah, Lady Solstice. As radiant as ever."
Eira narrowed her golden eyes. "Save the honeyed words. I'm no one's lady."
Sebastian chuckled. But when his gaze fell upon Ling Mei, the warmth faded.
"Young Miss," he said with gravity, bowing low. "You are summoned. The Council awaits."
The words struck her like lightning.
Her lungs seized. Her legs rooted.
Too soon.
Far too soon.
Eira's hand found hers. A gentle rub across her knuckles. "You've got this," she whispered, like a lighthouse in the fog.
Ling Mei gave the smallest nod, her breath shallow but steady. "Let's go then—"
"You are to go alone," Sebastian interrupted.
Silence fell like a blade.
"Wait–What?" Her voice cracked.
She turned to Eira, desperate. "Why?"
Eira's lips curled in a bitter smile. "Some traditions are too old to challenge… even for me."
Ling Mei's heart plummeted.
But she didn't cry.
She didn't rage.
She turned—slowly, deliberately—and walked forward.
Rain trickled down her hair like silver threads.
The servants stared as she passed. Her back was straight. Her steps steady. But something in her aura screamed. She was a girl walking into the lion's den—with no sword, no shield.
Just a storm inside her heart.
Eira watched her go, golden eyes unreadable.
"She's just a girl," she whispered. "And yet the burden she carries... would crush even kings."
---
Elsewhere…
A single candle flickered.
Its flame danced in a grand chamber layered in shadow and gold. Crimson silk walls bore beast sigils. Pillars carved with salamanders breathing fire. Shelves lined with ancient jade and obsidian tomes. Smoke curled from incense braziers, winding through the air like ghosts.
A young man sat cross-legged on a raised obsidian dais.
No older than eighteen.
Crimson and black robes clung to his frame. His long, dark red hair flowed down his back. A glinting earring swayed from his ear. His brows were blade-sharp.
His eyes were closed.
Breathing slow.
Perfect stillness.
The temperature fluctuated with his breath.
Then—
BOOM.
His aura ignited.
Dark flames surged around him.
He grinned.
"Finally…" he whispered, eyes snapping open—crimson and cruel. "Level 35."
Behind him, a small salamander of living flame slithered into form. Its molten eyes glowed.
He stroked it lazily. "Soon, Hell Flame. We'll play in the wild. But first…"
He leaned back, a sly grin spreading across his face. "My long, long crush... She's finally going to be mine."
This was Masaru Genji.
Ling Mei's bitter shadow.
Lei Feng's worst enemy.
Creak.
The chamber door opened. A servant entered, head bowed, voice shaking.
"My lord… the Ling Family has agreed. The Council convenes tonight."
Genji rose slowly, silk whispering like falling blades.
"Hahaha… After all this time," he laughed, eyes gleaming with malice, "I can finally have you, Ling Mei. Just wait until I pin you under me and hear you scream my name."
He paused, his gaze distant.
"Ling Chen... Lei Feng... or whatever you call yourself now... it's a shame you didn't die that day. Because now, you'll live to watch me marry your precious sister. And like always... you'll be too powerless to stop me."
The servant trembled, but said nothing.
Masaru Genji turned toward the east.
Toward the hills cradling the Ling Estate.
"Let them weigh her. Let them test her will. She won't surrender easily—but that only makes the game more fun."
He stepped forward.
And in that moment, the flame died.
---
Ling Estate, Inner Corridors
Ling Mei walked through a corridor of echoes.
Golden light glowed beneath her feet with each step, vanishing behind her like fading stars. The scent of sandalwood thickened the air. Lanterns flickered. Walls bore portraits of ancestors—watchful, grim, ancient.
They judged in silence.
She reached the end of the hall.
Before her stood the Main Hall's double doors—colossal things carved with images of dragons devouring storms, of balance forged through battle. Runes shimmered faintly on the surface, reacting to her bloodline.
She stared at them.
Still.
Breath shallow.
As if even the walls held their breath.
Then—
She raised her hand.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Silence.
A heartbeat.
Then a voice—old, commanding—rolled from within:
"Come in."