Dark Salvation

Song Zhuyu opened his eyes to Hell.

The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning sulfur, assaulting his senses with a nauseating blend of rotten eggs and charred flesh. An oppressive heat hung in the atmosphere, as a massive red crescent moon dominated the pitch-black sky, casting distorted shadows across dreary landscapes. 

The ground beneath his feet was a coarse mixture of obsidian-like rocks and ashen soil, with rivers of molten lava snaking through the rows of abandoned, half-burnt cars. Tormented wails of sinful souls reverberated through the air, drilling into his mind akin to a sledgehammer. 

Standing still in his black cassock[1] that draped over his tall frame perfectly with his waist-length crimson hair fluttering in the air, Song Zhuyu almost merged with the nightmarish background. 

All of a sudden—

Ding-a-ling

A soft and delicate sound, almost like a wind chime, echoed from the cross earring on his right ear. It had been forged from pure silver and soaked in holy water every fortnight, and its purifying power couldn't be underestimated. Amidst the sinister crimson backdrop, it emitted a faint holy glow that stood out vividly in the suffocating darkness.

Song Zhuyu held his breath sharply, and as if receiving some kind of signal, he took off running like an arrow released from its bowstring!

Behind him, within the dark interiors of the scorched cars, dozens of small turbid eyes snapped open, tracking his every move. 

Ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling…

The sound from the cross earrings increased in frequency as if attempting to convey a message. Song Zhuyu's sharp silver eyes surveyed his surroundings that were akin to a burning junkyard, droplets of sweat forming over his forehead. 

Song Zhuyu noticed those creatures, of course. 

They were 'wraithlings'— born from the acidic air and ghoulish resentment, tasked with guarding the perimeter of Hell. Song Zhuyu's presence in this place was too conspicuous, it was no wonder that they were roused from their slumber. Nonetheless, his expression remained cool and composed, determination gleaming in his gaze as he pressed forward.

Running past the cars, Song Zhuyu drew closer and closer to the gate of the main city. The towering obsidian buildings dwarfed the sky, resembling a sea of mountains carved from the pure essence of darkness. 

From his peripheral vision, Song Zhuyu caught sight of a faint glimmer similar to the light emitted by his cross earring. He did a double-take, his gaze locking onto a translucent figure crouched beneath a scorched tree. 

Ding-a-ling

Song Zhuyu screeched to a halt and abruptly changed his course, running straight toward the small figure. 

"Hey," he greeted, his voice surprisingly cheerful and carefree. "Why are you here?"

The translucent figure raised his head, revealing a youthful and delicate features belonging to a boy around eight or nine. He was clad in an oversized, old, yet clean clothes. He would have looked adorable if it weren't for his eyes, which resembled two pools of murky ink without any whites. Black tears slid down his pale cheeks as he stammered, 

"I… I don't know… don't remember…"

Song Zhuyu's features softened. His voice, low and velvety, seemed to carry a hypnotic effect, "What's the last thing you remember? It's okay, you can take your time and tell me slowly."

As he spoke, he threw his gaze over his shoulders once in a while, guarding against the wraithlings that had leaped down from the cars. Their bodies were small, barely two feet in height, and their emaciated frames were wrapped in tattered, scorched garments that clung to their skeletal forms. Their pallid skin gave off an ashen hue, and their expression showed a perpetual mix of anger and despair. Despite their small stature, their limbs were sinewy and surprisingly strong, each finger ending in razor-sharp claws that could cut flesh as easily as tofu. 

The boy blinked in confusion as if trying to process Song Zhuyu's words. His black tears hung on his chin, producing a faint sizzling sound as they dripped to the ground. He did not seem to notice the presence of the wraithlings. "I… remember… Mom," he spoke in halting words. "Mom told me… to be good… stay at home…"

"Good," Song Zhuyu responded, faster this time. "Do you still remember her? Can you imagine her voice?"

The boy nodded, a glimmer of light flickering within the depths of his murky eyes.

Song Zhuyu flashed him a grin, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. He extended a hand to the boy, "Close your eyes, it's not too late yet. Big Brother will bring you back to your Mom."

"Bring… me back…" the boy tremblingly clutched onto Song Zhuyu's hand with his translucent ones. Sobbing, he closed his eyes and tried to recall his mother's voice and face as instructed by the stranger before him. The boy had no idea who he was, yet he instinctively felt drawn to him.

Like a person who had long grappled within the dark tunnel, only to discover a faint shimmer of light on the other end.

"I want… I want to go home…" the boy cried softly, more and more black blood pouring out of his eyes. "I don't like it here. It's dark and scary…"

"You poor, lost soul," Sighing, Song Zhuyu drew a cross on his chest and placed a broad hand atop the boy's translucent head. "You will be fine from now on. God will guide you back to the path of light." 

Song Zhuyu began to murmur a prayer under his breath, and at the same time, the boy's translucent figure wavered like a ripple of a calm lake after a small stone was thrown in. However, before he could finish—

"...Zhuyu…"

Song Zhuyu stiffened as a searing sensation surged from his right hip, as though hot needles were stabbing his flesh repeatedly. As it was close to a man's private area, the feeling became all the more indescribable. For the very first time, his mask of composure cracked to reveal the irritability beneath. 

Not again, he groaned inwardly.

Alas, his hope was shattered when the voice sounded again the next second. "Song Zhuyu…" 

It belonged to neither man nor woman, children nor elderly. If he had to describe it into words, then it sounded like the whisper of the wind, or the crackle of lava beneath his feet. Soft and gentle, brushing against his ears like the caress of a lover. 

But Song Zhuyu knew all too well that things were going downhill from now on.

Sure enough, the wraithlings which had been cautiously edging closer to him seemed to have received an extreme stimulation. With a mournful cry, a pair of hideous wings sprouted from their backs, resembling charred and tattered remnants of the once-glorious feathers. 

Flapping their wings, they flew straight toward Song Zhuyu!

Song Zhuyu was reciting his prayer at lightning speed now before he finished it with flourish, "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen—!" 

A burst of light enveloped the boy's translucent figure, but Song Zhuyu did not even have the chance to see him off, for the wraithlings had descended upon him!

Sensing the sharp gust of wind above his head, Song Zhuyu instinctively lowered his stance and leaped away, narrowly avoiding the hellish creature's sharp claws. 

"Damn it, what a hassle," he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue. 

All around him, there were tens if not hundreds of wraithlings, each with their wings and claws brandished. They almost blotted out the sky, their turbid eyes fixated on Song Zhuyu. Shrill cries erupted from their throat as they folded their wings and dove down like countless missiles!

Sucking in a sharp breath, Song Zhuyu deftly dodged a claw sweeping toward his face and delivered a punch to the wraithling closest to him. At the same time, his boot connected with another creature. Song Zhuyu was wearing black boots with thick soles; even ordinary people would break one or two ribs if they received this kick, let alone such a small and thin creature whose height did not even reach his waist. The poor wraithling seemed to have turned into a bowling ball, crashing into others and sending a bunch of them flying. 

Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!

Along with his movements, his cross earring violently swayed back and forth, the light pulsing and throbbing. Whenever the wraithlings entered the light's radar, they recoiled and screeched in pain as if scalded. 

Meanwhile, the voice sounded again, growing closer and closer,

"Zhuyu…"

"Zhuyu…"

"Song Zhuyu…"

Song Zhuyu had never dreamed of defeating the entire colony. He focused his attack in one direction, and as soon as a small path opened before him, he immediately rushed in and broke away from the siege!

"Ah— ah!" The Wraithlings' cries echoed behind him, sounding both eager and furious.

"Song Zhuyu…"

"Fuck you!" Song Zhuyu raised his middle finger to the sky. 

At this point, his cassock was torn in a few places, revealing the scotched black skin beneath. His long crimson hair fluttered behind him. Bathed under the sinister glow of the crescent moon, it looked almost ethereal – like a surging sea of blood. 

He jumped into the hood of a nearby car and leaped across the roofs, with countless little wraithlings hot on his trail. Nonetheless, he still had the time to curse, "Do you think you can call Laozi[2]'s name as you please?! It's Father Song for you, asshole!"

Lowering his stance, Song Zhuyu took a particularly high leap, and in that split second, the crimson moon seemed so close at hand, almost as if he could reach it so long as he stretched out a hand. 

In his grip was a round glass bottle filled with holy water. A fraction of second before he crushed the bottle against his chest – right above his heart – the voice sounded once more, so close it seemed to be whispered right behind his ear,

"Zhuyu…"

Time slowed to a crawling pace. Every single second seemed to stretch into eternity, magnifying each frame and gesture to the extremity. 

Song Zhuyu's pupils contracted, his silver orbs reflecting the crimson moon. Behind him, dozens of wraithlings extended their claws, nearly touching his hair. He tilted his head sideways, and a cheeky grin slowly spread across his face, drawing attention to the dimple on his left cheek. 

"So long, suckers!"

Song Zhuyu crushed the bottle of holy water against his chest and—

BOOM!

The water in the pool erupted to the ceiling as if a grenade had exploded within. Along with it, Song Zhuyu soared in a high arc midair before crashing to the ground and rolling a few times. 

"Cough, cough, cough—!" He almost hacked his lungs out as dense vapor floated from every inch of his body, accompanied by faint sizzling sounds. The acrid and sulfuric taste clung to his nose and oral cavity, overpowering the crisp and refreshing air around him. He squinted his eyes against the dazzling light from the ceiling, which was a stark contrast to the darkness he had been immersed in until seconds ago. 

With a faint purr, the ventilator worked diligently to filter the remnants of foul air. And at the same time, a cheerful female voice sounded from the speaker in the corner, 

"Rescue mission C-048, success. Welcome back, Song-Ge[3]!"

Turning to lie on his back, Song Zhuyu tremblingly raised a hand and made a peace sign before dropping it again as though the strength had been seeped out of him. 

Bone-deep exhaustion clung to every inch of his body and his joints screamed out in pain, as per the usual aftermath of an exorcist crossing over to Hell. But somehow the discomfort felt worse this time, perhaps because of the wounds he had sustained there. 

Amidst the pristine white tile, the black of his garment and his long crimson hair stood out like two striking splashes of color on a blank canvas. 

"Ah…" Song Zhuyu threw an arm over his face and released a woeful sigh. "I need a vacation."

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[1] cassock = a close-fitting ankle-length garment worn by the members of clergy, including priests, bishops and others ordained ministers. 

[2] Laozi = an arrogant way of referring to oneself

[3] Ge = an informal way of referring to an older male, whether blood-related or not