Chapter Text
“The tea is ready!” Xie Lian called, sitting down at a table in the Puqi Shrine. He poured two cups, his movements peaceful and unbothered. It was a calm evening, nothing to bother with. Outside, he was sure the stars would be twinkling brightly enough to stun, but the inside of Puqi Shrine was only lit by peaceful candlelight. He would always much prefer the mortal realm to that of Heaven, with its bustling streets and new and shinier palaces. Xie Lian prefered quiet simplicity. And Hua Cheng.
Speaking of, he appeared behind, leaning in to give Xie Lian a kiss on the cheek. The silver vambraces on his arms glimmered, and he reached out to take the pot of tea from his hand. “Gege doesn’t need to serve me,” Hua Cheng said with a smile on his face.
“I want to,” Xie Lian replied.
“Maybe I want to serve you more.”
Xie Lian laughed, and he covered part of his face with his hand. “San Lang, please stop teasing.” He reached his hand out as San Lang knelt by his side so that he could look up at him, resting it against his cool cheek. Despite his body giving off no heat, Xie Lian still felt warm whenever they touched. Their tea was forgotten entirely as they leaned together, meaning to kiss again.
The door of Puqi Shrine was flung open to cries of, “Your Highness! Your Highness!”
Hua Cheng stood up to his feet, crossing his arms and turning a chilling glare on the two who interrupted them. Xie Lian smiled at them. “Mu Qing, Feng Xin...what is it?” He couldn’t imagine them having another reason for bursting in so suddenly, so there must be something amiss. Usually, if there was business to be taken care of in the Heavens, someone would contact him from the Spiritual Communication Array. These two must have already been in the area.
“Shi Qingxuan ascended again!”
Xie Lian’s eyes widened at the news. It had been several months since he’d seen Shi Qingxuan. The vagrant population had been chased out of the Imperial City, and he hadn’t come here for help. Xie Lian wasn’t surprised at this, but it was hard to track down the specific group that Shi Qingxuan might have been a part of, so his efforts to find him had come up fruitless. However, he never expected this. “Black Water didn’t switch his fate after all,” Hua Cheng said from behind him, and he sounded almost thoughtful.
“Heavenly Officials are losing their fucking minds! It’s utter chaos,” Feng Xin said. “He wasn’t even marked for ascension, so no one knows why or how this happened! Neither does he!”
“Do you have to shout?” Mu Qing asked.
Feng Xin paused to glance at him, but Xie Lian spoke up before either of them could get into it with each other. “I’ll return to the Heavens at once, with both of you. Come on.” He turned to Hua Cheng, who just tilted his head and smiled at him. “Do you want to come, San Lang?”
“Why don’t I go to the Ghost City instead?” he asked, crossing his arms. “You can come meet me there when you’ve taken care of everything, gege.”
“Alright.” Xie Lian touched that ring that rested beneath his robes for a moment, then he turned and followed Feng Xin and Mu Qing from the shrine. They ascended all as one, landing in the newly rebuilt Heavenly Capital. Glittering palaces as far as the eye could see - and no corpses underneath their feet. Xie Lian sighed at seeing it, then glanced toward the Grand Martial Square where a large gathering of Heavenly Officials stood to gape at the newest arrival. A reascension, even. Really, very novel. Except, this was Shi Qingxuan, and everyone knew of what had brought him here to Heaven. A fate that wasn’t his own.
Xie Lian walked through the shocked Heavenly Officials, finding that Shi Qingxuan was sitting on the ground with a stunned look on his face. He had one arm curled up against his chest, and he kept furtively glancing about as if everything was about to disappear in a puff of smoke. When they made eye contact, Shi Qingxuan smiled widely, and Xie Lian reached down to pull him to his feet.
“How did this come to be?”
“I thought he was a beggar on the street!”
Xie Lian silenced everyone with a look, then gently laid his hands on Shi Qingxuan’s arm. “Does this still hurt?” he asked, watching with worry as his friend seemed to get caught up in the chatter around them.
“What? Hahahaha, I haven’t been able to feel anything in this old thing for years!” He looked down at his arm, then slowly expanded the fingers out. He curled them back in against his palm, then extended the whole arm. The smile on his face faded as he tested this, then his previously broken leg. “Oh…” The breath was taken from Shi Qingxuan, and he walked a few hobbling steps with Xie Lian’s help. “I’m not used to having two legs that work!” He laughed again, but there was something hollow in the sound that Xie Lian didn’t like.
“Qingxuan, how...how did you ascend? Were you cultivating these past months?”
“No! No, I haven’t been cultivating at all!” Shi Qingxuan waved his hands, then blanched and reached for his robes. They were on the charitable end of tattered, and Xie Lian wanted to get him out of public sight soon. The Heavenly Officials around them were beginning to speak up again, unable to keep their opinions to themselves. But Shi Qingxuan apparently was searching for something, and he produced the Wind Master fan from inside a pocket. Flipping it open, the ribbing appeared to be cracked, and the paper torn in the center. Right down the middle of the character lovingly drawn on it.
“We can fix it,” Xie Lian offered, smiling.
“It’s been broken since that night. I don’t know why I kept it on me.” Shi Qingxuan laughed, then he closed the fan and held it against himself. He smiled at Xie Lian, then. “I hope Your Highness forgives my appearance. I’ve not been living fabulously for these past months.”
“Where have you been?” Xie Lian asked, subtly moving with Shi Qingxuan through the crowd. They had to be careful. It didn’t seem that Shi Qingxuan had full range of motion in that leg yet. It was probably more psychological than anything. He wasn’t used to a healthy body anymore.
“Here and there. All over the place, really. Done a lot of traveling!” Shi Qingxuan smiled at him, but there was something glassy and fragile about his expression that hadn’t been there before.
It took them a moment, but Xie Lian eventually led Shi Qingxuan into the Palace of Nan Yang with Mu Qing and Feng Xin in hot pursuit. They shut the doors, Feng Xin cursing at the nosy Heavenly Officials who tried to get close to listen in. “Piss off!” he yelled, then slammed the windows shut.
“Watch your mouth,” Mu Qing said, earning himself a half-hearted glare.
Xie Lian ignored the two, sitting down with Shi Qingxuan. He kept glancing around the glittering palace, his eyes lost to the richness around him. What was it like to experience abject poverty, only to rise to these heights again? Xie Lian could understand, but he had a question that needed answering. “Qingxuan?” he asked. “How did you ascend again?”
“I-” Shi Qingxuan looked at him, his fingers curling gently over the fan in his hands. He looked down at the floor, frowning softly. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember?” Xie Lian asked, confused.
“No, I don’t! I don’t remember anything!” He thought back, his brow furrowing. “I have no idea what I’ve been doing...for days!”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Shi Qingxuan’s face grew thoughtful, tapping his chin gently, then he wrapped his arms around himself uncertainty. A chill went through his body, eyes focused on the ground, and his lips twitched down into a frown. “Seeing an old friend,” he said. The cloud that had fallen over his mood rolled back, and Shi Qingxuan looked at Xie Lian again. “But I think that was a dream. I just don’t remember why I ascended. There’s a blank spot in my memories.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Xie Lian said, smiling. But in the back of his mind, there was a name that surely everyone else was also considering. His plot should have been done, but still he hung onto the world and stayed a Supreme Ghost King. Why? Xie Lian could ask questions all day, but for now, he had to get Shi Qingxuan settled and talk to Hua Cheng.
The Ghost City was bustling with vendors as always, and Hua Cheng strode along the streets with purpose. Little ghosts bowed to him, followed him, chattering all about him as they bounced along. Some dragged worthless limbs, some had heads split open, blood dripping constantly down their faces. Hua Cheng ignored the babbling ghosts and went to his Paradise Manor, walking with ease through the large entryway.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” he said. A dark figure stood in the center of the room, pale hands hanging loosely at his sides. “Black Water,” Hua Cheng greeted, a falsely cheerful smile on his face.
He Xuan, the Ship Sinking Black Water, turned his head incrementally to let Hua Cheng know he’d heard him.
“What do you want?” Hua Cheng asked, cutting through any pleasantries that might impede this discussion. If He Xuan was here, then he would clearly need something. If Hua Cheng was willing to provide it was another question altogether.
Turning to face him, He Xuan settled his billowing, black robes. Golden earrings hung from his ears, and he wore his hair loose and long, dark like the waters of the ocean he so loved to submerge himself in. His dark, gaunt appearance was out of place in the gilded glory of the Paradise Manor. Whereas Hua Cheng seemed tailor made for such extravagance, He Xuan seemed uncomfortable and unwelcome. Even the gold jewelry was a new addition to his appearance, and Hua Cheng took this in with a lift of his brow.
“Our arrangement,” he said, his voice very nearly monotone. “I want to continue it.” His eyes flashed around, then paused on the large spread of food that Hua Cheng had ordered to be prepared upon his arrival.
“Don’t touch,” he said, waiting until those eyes lifted again. “You’ve been slumbering again, haven’t you? I haven’t heard any news from your domain recently.”
“Not exactly,” He Xuan said. His eyes were a sickly yellow that almost glowed, unsettling for anyone who might see his true form for the first time. He carried himself simply, with no real pride or arrogance. His wrists and arms were thin, not trained in swordsmanship, and he carried an air of indifference. Despite his obviously ghostly look, no one would expect to fear him. Still, if one spent any amount of time with him, there was something off in his words and actions. Unhinged. Hua Cheng knew exactly how dangerous He Xuan could be.
“Then, you did have something to do with Shi Qingxuan’s ascension.” Hua Cheng smiled, going to sit on the couch, crossing his legs. He snapped, and a small ghost quickly carried in something to drink on a tray, and he poured himself wine. Hua Cheng didn’t bother to offer any to He Xuan. “You know, there’s only so much satisfaction you’re going to get out of torturing him more. By all means, go ahead, if you think that’ll make you happy, but my advice is to let it go.” They both knew how ridiculous those words were, and Hua Cheng said it as a tease. Riling He Xuan up, trying to get him to reveal something.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it in the first place,” He Xuan replied, his tone cold.
“Sure you didn’t.” Hua Cheng didn’t believe that for a second. “Whatever you’re going to do, Black Water, just remember to keep gege and myself out of it this time.”
“I’m not planning anything.”
“Then, what are you here for?” His patience was wearing thin, and the crafted smile on his face slipped a bit. Was there really a point to masks and false-smiles between the two most powerful beings in the Ghost Realm?
He Xuan hesitated momentarily. “I need to give him something. Could I do so through your Crown Prince?”
“You’re not giving anything to gege,” Hua Cheng replied, his tone cool. “What is it? Do you think he’d accept anything from you?”
He Xuan blinked, expressionless.
“My advice is, whatever you’re planning, do so more subtly. That seems to be your strong suit, Black Water. Until then, why don’t you get the hell out? Gege is coming over, and I don’t want my place smelling like the bottom of the ocean.”
“Hua Chengzhu! His Highness the Crown Prince is coming!” The small ghost attendant rushed in the room, bouncing, head lolling backwards on a snapped neck, the smile on his face creeping wider and wider as he gestured toward the doors. They opened, and Hua Cheng stood up to welcome Xie Lian inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw He Xuan move behind a heavy draping curtain, the fabric swallowing him up and hiding him from sight.
“Oh, it’s all been rebuilt just like you said!”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Gege,” Hua Cheng said, watching as Xie Lian stepped into the room with Shi Qingxuan close by his side. The once former Wind Master seemed to have returned to full glory, with fine robes that swept down his frame and fluttered when he walked. But Hua Cheng didn’t care to study him for long. Xie Lian smiled at him.
“You don’t mind that I brought the Lord Wind Master?” he asked.
“Of course not,” he said, smiling brightly.
Shi Qingxuan stepped around with wide eyes, looking at the gilded decorations of the Paradise Manor. Hua Cheng glanced at him from the corner of his eye, promptly decided he didn’t care, then accepted Xie Lian into his arms.
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower, your place is just as incredible as I remember it being!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed, bending down over the table to pick up one of the steamed buns from the platter that had been prepared. He inhaled the scent wafting off the warm food, then took a bite.
Turning his head again, Hua Cheng merely smiled cooly. “Of course. I could not have kept it in the state you left it in,” he replied.
Shi Qingxuan paused, swallowing the large bite he’d taken, then he just laughed. “Ahahaha, yeah, you’re right. You’re right. I apologize!” He waved his hand once, then turned to continue looking around.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, turning his face gently with slender fingers.
“Yes, gege?” he asked.
Xie Lian stood on his toes, nearly ready to kiss him when Shi Qingxuan let out a shrill scream. He had grabbed that draped curtain and pulled it back, exposing the ghost hidden behind. Hua Cheng stepped away, humming in disappointment under his breath, and Xie Lian shot his hand out. “Go!” he called, and the silk band that had been calmly wrapped around his wrist went out, gently wrapping around Shi Qingxuan and pulling him backwards several steps.
Shi Qingxuan didn’t wait long before responding to this, and he rushed around behind Xie Lian, watching as He Xuan stepped completely out from behind the curtain. “What is he doing here?” Shi Qingxuan asked, grabbing at Xie Lian’s arm tightly. His body was shaking violently, like he might fall over completely if he wasn’t careful.
“Ask him yourself,” Hua Cheng replied, crossing his arms and stepping back away from things. E’ming’s eye spun wildly as it sensed the turmoil in the room.
Before them, He Xuan stood with his head down. He grabbed at something on his person, glancing at Shi Qingxuan from the corner of his eye. He seemed to hold onto something that was tucked into his robes for a moment, then he released it and removed his hand entirely.
“What are you doing here?” Shi Qingxuan asked, his voice shaking.
He Xuan glanced at him. His cold eyes gave away nothing, and without answering, he went to the door. Xie Lian was much more interested in keeping He Xuan away from Shi Qingxuan than interrogating him, and Hua Cheng had no interest in stopping him, either.
“Wait!” He came to a stop near the doors as Shi Qingxuan yelled out toward him. “Give me a straight answer, please? What did you do? Why did I ascend again?”
He drew his hands into fists, then threw open the doors and left without answering. Shi Qingxuan hesitated for only a moment before rushing toward the doors to look out into the crowded streets. Xie Lian came with him, a hand out to stop him if anything appeared amiss. Among the crowd of ghosts and monsters that went to and from in the Ghost City, there was absolutely no sign of He Xuan, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. With his knowledge of Distance-Shortening Arrays, it was hardly a surprise if he had.
Hua Cheng sat down on his divan again as they both came back inside. “If Black Water doesn’t want to be found, you won’t be able to spot him,” he said, toying with his braid as Xie Lian helped Shi Qingxuan into one of the other seats inside the parlor. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but I suggest we all watch our backs.”
“Do you think he has something against you?” Xie Lian asked, concerned.
“No. But I refused to help him.”
“He asked for your help, then. That’s why he was here?”
Hua Cheng thought back to their conversation, then he nodded his head. “Yes, but don’t worry, gege, I told him that I didn’t wish to help.”
“What is he going to do to me now?” Shi Qingxuan asked, his voice trembling. He grabbed at Xie Lian, holding onto his arms tightly. “Why is it not over? He said that he was done with me.”
“I don’t know,” Xie Lian said, and he sounded distressed.
Hua Cheng frowned, looking over the mass of food he’d prepared, then to the nearly crying Wind Master. “Whatever his plan is, crying over it won’t make you any safer.”
“You have to try and remember what happened before you ascended.” Xie Lian gripped onto Shi Qingxuan’s hands, smiling encouragingly at him.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Try,” Hua Cheng said, boredly.
Shi Qingxuan swallowed nervously, then looked down at the Wind Master fan that was still clutched in his hand. The ribbing was still snapped, and it could not be considered a spiritual device anymore, not really. He’d held onto it, like the wisp of a memory, and now he used it to draw him back in time. “The Imperial City forced us to leave...so I took a group, anyone that would follow me, and led them southward. I thought if we reached the sea, there might be places to get jobs, or even just cheaper market prices for food.”
Xie Lian tilted his head, smiling kindly. “Go on.”
It took a moment, but Shi Qingxuan nodded and divulged what he could remember.
“Could you lower the price just a bit?” Shi Qingxuan asked, cradling his lame hand against his chest as he looked over the basket that was packed. The vendor looked at him with poorly disguised disgust, shaking his head. Sighing, Shi Qingxuan reached into his pocket and pulled out the few coins they had managed to collect over the past days. Everyone was starving, and this was the only money they had. Still, the basket of fruit seemed so small. And he was sure some were even turning black around the bottoms. He couldn’t afford any meat or fish. Not until they managed to find jobs here.
No one really wanted to hire a lame fisherman, though.
“Hurry up,” the person behind him said.
Shi Qingxuan turned around, puffing some hair out of his face. “Why don’t you be patient?” he asked.
“Why should I be patient! You’ve been haggling for twenty minutes. He’s not going to lower the price for you, scum.”
Shi Qingxuan gripped his hand into a fist. “What do you know!? Like you can’t stand to wait a few minutes? What do you have to go home to anyway?”
Turning back around, he went very still. Someone else had stepped behind the vendor’s stall and was whispering in their ear. They had their back to him, and he could only see inky black hair, tied back neatly, and for a moment, his heart hammered. When they turned around, he relaxed again. This person looked nothing like…
“Take it,” the vendor said, grabbing one of the larger baskets that were piled with fruit and vegetables from the back. He moved that small basket of near-rotten fruit to the side, then placed the larger one in its place.
Shi Qingxuan blinked in surprise, then took the coins and held them out.
The vendor shook his head, waving his hands quickly in front of his face. “No, no, no, no! No payment! Take it and go!”
“What do you mean no payment?” It was the angry customer behind Shi Qingxuan again.
Without thinking, Shi Qingxuan grabbed the basket and hobbled off. He couldn’t run, necessarily, but he didn’t waste time lingering around, either. Especially with that angry man behind him now shouting at the vendor, and the mysterious man who’d shown up out of nowhere. Of course, it was a busy market, but he seemed just a little too put-together. Shi Qingxuan paused around a corner, looking through the basket. There was enough here to make a hearty potato soup for the night, with plenty of vegetables. He glanced up at the sky. “Was that one of you?” he asked, wondering if someone had found him and was looking over him again. Ever since he’d left the Imperial City, he hadn’t managed to spot another Heavenly Official. The only one who’d ever really cared was Xie Lian, though.
He was just skin and bones now. Shi Qingxuan didn’t want to try and drag himself back to Puqi Shrine to beg for food. He’d stay around here. Try to get a job. Try to take care of the ones who had decided to follow him. The beggar camp in the city had been broken up, and the group was smaller now. And they avoided bigger cities with the fear of being chased out again.
They were camped down by the beach, and by the time Shi Qingxuan got back, darkness had started to fall. When he got there, he was surprised to find the smell of fish. Hurrying forward, dragging himself through the sand, he finally dropped down with the basket in his lap among the small circle of fellow migrants. “Did you all catch this?” he asked, surprised.
“No!”
“Ol’ Feng, some weird character came and said he caught too much for the day, gave us two big fish! Would you believe that?”
“I-”
He stopped talking, glancing out to the open ocean. At night, with barely a moon in sight, the water looked black.
His breathing stuttered, but he chased the ghostly chill away, turning to look at the fire. He grabbed some carrots out of the basket and added them to their pot over the fire to cook with the fish. They all ate a hearty meal that night, and turned in with full bellies.
They had erected a small shelter on the beach with random things they’d found. Inventiveness was a trait of the migrants, Shi Qingxuan found. Four poles stood stuck in the sandy ground, and a large piece of fabric they’d tied to each post hung lowly over them to protect from the sun during the day, and maybe block a bit of the wispy chill that came over the water. The fire died down, burning itself to charcoal, and Shi Qingxuan tried to settle in against the coarse sand below him. They only had a few blankets, and Shi Qingxuan went without so that the children among them could all keep warm.
He hadn’t gotten off to sleep when suddenly burly arms lifted him up off the sand. A child screamed, and Shi Qingxuan snapped his eyes open. He struggled, then gasped in pain when he was thrown down against the ground. The person who’d held him kicked him in the ribs, making him curl into the fetal position.
Through his tears, he could make out several figures moving around in the darkness, trampling their campsite, tearing down the poles, grabbing the leftover food. He was grabbed by the hair and pulled upwards, and he saw in the darkness the face of that vendor. And the burly man who’d lifted him up early was the customer who’d been angry.
“Vagrants like you, worthless! You come and take out food, dirty up the place! The Imperial City didn’t want you, so why do you think we would?” The vendor said, slapping his face hard.
“You gave me that! I didn’t take it!”
“Oh yeah? Your friend holding a knife to my side didn’t seem to offer another choice!”
“My friend?” Shi Qingxuan flashed back to that man. He hadn’t seen a knife, but he had stood close to the vendor. Was that what he was whispering about? Why would a Heavenly Official threaten like that? “I didn’t know that person!” he said, insistently.
“You’re not even a good liar!” He was dropped again, kicked, and he stared through watery eyes as the others in their camp were grabbed up and dragged down the beach. He could smell the liquor on the man’s breath when he was hefted up again, pulled down toward a tiny rowboat. Ropes were bound around them all, and he was tossed in with the rest. Including screaming children.
Sitting up, he glared at the men who dared do this. “I have very powerful friends, you know! Heaven will smite you all for this,” he yelled,his lame arm painfully twisted behind his back and tied. He wrenched at his other hand, twisting his wrist to try to free himself. “I used to be a God! They’ll hear about this, and you’ll all pay for it!”
The drunkards laughed at his words, wading into the water and pushing the boat out. Waves lapped at and gently made the boat bob upon the water. And soon, a current caught them and pulled them out. The village men laughed and threw rocks at the boat as they drifted away, out onto the dark water. Shi Qingxuan’s threats were only laughed at, even as he described what the Heavenly Officials could do to them. Towering waves, storms, descending armies, fire from the skies.
“Ol’ Feng, calm down!”
Shi Qingxuan squinted his eyes around the tears flowing down his cheeks. He thrashed about, trying to free his hands so he could untie everyone else. If only he could free them all, they’d be able to figure something else out and row back to shore. “No! I’ll take care of this!” he yelled, not willing to lay down and drift out to sea to starve. After everything he’d been through, like hell would this be how he died.
After struggling, after trying to bite through the ropes tying up another, Shi Qingxuan still didn’t want to give up. He instructed two to shift back to back and try to undo each other’s knots, but it was a slow, despicable process. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, from sitting so long. Not like the broken one felt much anyway. The night wind carried the smell of rainwater, but they saw nothing - no clouds, no waves. The night was as peaceful as the water that lapped their boat.
After several hours, Shi Qingxuan felt himself giving up. Exhausted, he jerked at his arm once more, then thumped his head down on the edge of the boat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a few breaths. Sliding closer to the edge, he looked down into the dark water, feeling the shivers run up his spine. He blinked, then shifted away and looked to the others crowded together in the boat.
“We gotta try something else,” he said, beginning to stand up. “I’ll come over to you, and-” His words cut off, the wind in his lungs gone as he fell. His legs were essentially worthless after sitting on them in the bottom of the boat for half the night, and he toppled over the side of the boat.
“Ol’ Feng!” He heard people calling for him before he went underwater.
Twisting, he tried to struggle free of the ropes, but his body wouldn’t respond. The water was a cold shock, and he held his breath as he sunk downwards into the black water. Just as bubbles rushed from his mouth, arms wrapped around him and he felt himself moving upwards. Up toward the surface. He broke through, gasping, spitting water, and he looked down at the pale hand cupped around his arm.
Turning his head slowly, he caught sight of glimmering earrings hanging amid ink-black tresses, lips set in a thin line, yellow eyes. The ones in the boat went silent as well, and Shi Qingxuan found himself being placed back down.
He Xuan stared at him, floating above the water, somehow completely dry. The others in the boat gaped at him in awe, but he only stared at Shi Qingxuan. He reached into his sleeve and removed a long dagger, leaning down to cut away the ropes. Shi Qingxuan couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. When his hand was grabbed, he let out a pained cry, finally snapping out of it, and he coiled his body around his arm protectively.
He Xuan froze, his fingers hovering in midair between them, then he grabbed Shi Qingxuan’s other hand and pressed the dagger’s hilt into his hand. “Free the others,” he ordered, and Shi Qingxuan had to snap himself out of the fright before it utterly consumed him. He lifted his head, then glanced around for a moment. The others in the boat were all staring. Even the children had cried themselves into a stupor and were now fearfully watching the Ghost King who floated near their boat.
With a shaky hand, Shi Qingxuan crawled over to the nearest person and cut them free. He tried to pass the dagger into their hands, but He Xuan snapped, “only you can touch that!” Wincing, he nodded, then moved onto the next person. After a long minute, everyone was free, rubbing their sore wrists, and Shi Qingxuan turned back to He Xuan. He held out the dagger toward him.
“It’s yours now.” He Xuan said, looking away.
“I…”
“Your boat will be carried back to shore by morning. You shouldn’t linger here.”
“What?”
He Xuan glanced down at him, his eyes filled with some unknowable emotion. “What was hard to understand in what I just said?”
Shi Qingxuan felt himself shrinking in on himself. He imagined that same face, blood dripping off his cheek, looking at him with such a cruel eye. He could never unsee that. “You...saved me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He Xuan frowned, then waved his arm. A wave suddenly pushed their boat, and they started rocking slowly atop the water back toward shore. He Xuan stayed where he was. Shi Qingxuan moved between the people toward the back of the boat, sitting and watching him. He turned toward the boat, staring with his penetrating gaze.
Looking down at the dagger in his hand, the smooth hilt seemed to reflect the sea of stars over his head. Frowning, Shi Qingxuan pulled his arm back and flung it far out across the sea. He saw He Xuan’s eyes follow it, surprise flickering over his face, then he sunk back into the water. Turning around, Shi Qingxuan panted softly, his heartbeat so fast that it felt like a continuous pressure rather than a beat. He shivered, the cold wind brushing over his wet clothes and hair.
“Ol’ Feng, was that-”
“Ship Sinking Black Water,” he said, answering the question not yet asked.
“You really do have powerful friends.”
He stared at the bottom of the boat, emotion welling in his throat. He could only say one thing to that.
“We’re not friends.”
Xie Lian rubbed at his forehead, thinking this over as Shi Qingxuan told the story. “Do you have any idea why he wanted to save you?” he asked, looking at Shi Qingxuan curiously.
After a moment, Shi Qingxuan tapped the Wind Master fan in his hands. He spread it open, looking at the broken spine, the ripped paper, then he shut it and tucked it into his sleeve. “If I died, I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, maybe?” He really didn’t know how to get into that man’s head, and a part of him really didn’t want to try. “Not that my life was all that bad. I-I had good days, like at the Puqi Shrine with you guys.” He chewed on his lip.
Hua Cheng spoke up. “What happened when you got back to shore?”
A dark look flickered on Shi Qingxuan’s face. “The entire village was gone.”
“What?” Xie Lian asked. “Gone? What do you mean?”
“Destroyed. Looked almost like a storm had come through.” Shi Qingxuan shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how it happened. We were out on that water all night and didn’t see a trace of rain clouds, wind, thunder...waves. Nothing! But when we got back, the buildings were knocked down, the streets were flooded and muddy, and there were...bodies in the streets.”
Xie Lian turned his head and looked at Hua Cheng. “San Lang, can Lord Black Water do that?”
“Depends,” he said. “A seaside village would be no trouble to wipe out, if he wanted to. I don’t see why he would, though. He sinks ships for food, and it’s harder to feast if he doesn’t pull bodies into the water. To leave them beyond like that, it’s sloppy and not like him. Unless he’s trying to send you a message.”
Shi Qingxuan blinked, feeling a cold dripping sensation down his spine. “Hah, but, he wouldn’t want to do that. What could he possibly want to tell me by doing that?”
Hua Cheng shrugged. “That he can kill you at any time, maybe.”
Xie Lian stood suddenly, grasping Shi Qingxuan by the hands and helping him to his feet. “Let’s go back to the Heavenly Realm. I'm sorry, San Lang. I wish I could stay with you, but I really should help the Lord Wind Master settle in.”
“Sure, gege.” He smiled, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in the back of his mind.
“Maybe. There are still things to be discussed.” Xie Lian turned his head and looked at Shi Qingxuan. “There is more that you have to tell, I assume.”
“Things start getting blurry after that, I’m not going to lie,” Shi Qingxuan said, tapping at his head. He laughed, nervous. “Sorry, Your Highness, I know this must be maddening. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to.”
“We’re going to help you,” Xie Lian soothed. “For now, let’s go somewhere he can’t reach us.”
Hua Cheng snickered. “I wouldn’t be so sure anywhere is safe, gege. Black Water has his ways, after all.”
Shi Qingxuan swallowed, then grabbed onto Xie Lian’s hand tightly. He looked around the streets as they walked out of the Paradise Manor, wondering which set of eyes watching him might be He Xuan, and what exactly was being planned for him.
Xie Lian walked along the sand, his boots sinking slightly with each step. Behind him, the bickering of Feng Xin and Mu Qing made the nice day a bit more lively, but he still rubbed at his temple while they fussed at each other over something. He wasn’t really paying much attention. When he turned to glance at them, they both stopped talking and looked at him expectantly. “Feng Xin, did you leave guards for Lord Wind Master like I asked you to?” he asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “No, well...Lady Wind Master.” Beside him, Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “She was in that form when I came by before we left. All excited about it, too.”
“That’s fine,” Xie Lian said, turning back to look ahead of them. They could just make out what appeared to be a wrecked dock up ahead, with a single boat bobbing in the water beside it. “I’m afraid that Ship Sinking Black Water is going to be much more difficult to deal with than I first thought.”
“Is it really a good idea to poke at him, right now?” Mu Qing asked, looking at the dock, with missing boards, part of it slumping down into the water. They walked out onto it, then turned to glance back into the ruined village it had once been attached to. Buildings were toppled over, and they could see sea water floating about inside. It was as if a giant wave had toppled over into the village and left nothing but destruction in its wake. “He must be angry that his enemy ascended again.”
“If he didn’t want that, he should have switched their fates,” Feng Xin tacked on. As he stepped, a water-logged board snapped under him, and Mu Qing barely grabbed him before he went toppling over into the water.
“Careful,” Xie Lian said, then he stepped over the broken board and looked down into the water. As he stared, a body bobbed up from below the surface, floating outward away from the dock. An arm was missing, ripped asunder from the rest of the body, and nowhere to be seen. They all turned away from the rotten smell, then quickly left the docks to go into the village instead.
They found themselves walking down what must have been a marketplace at one time, but the stalls had been smashed and washed away by rampaging waters. There were still fruits rotting and floating around, and there was a putrid stench in the air. Xie Lian rushed ahead, splashing through the water, and he bent down near a person laying among some broken wood. He turned them over, only to see that their face was partially eaten away by whatever waterlife had been washed up in the storm.
“Huh,” Feng Xin said, after lifting some wood away from an old shrine. Xie Lian hurriedly came over to see. “Lord Water Master,” he said, pointing to the small statue. It wasn’t very large, about the size of a doll, but the head was smashed. The only signifier of who it had been depicting was the fan in one of its hands. The entire shrine had been crushed. “Guess they didn’t get the memo.”
“It’s not unusual for places like this to be the last to realize their prayers aren’t being answered,” Xie Lian said. He knew it was the smallest of towns where his temples managed to stay the longest, but even then, his fall from grace was much more swift and cutting. The fall of an entire kingdom was different than one family’s downfall. He bent down, picking up a piece of wood which floated near to the small shrine, and he flipped it over. It was the establishment plaque. “This says Temple of Wind and Water,” he said. “So where’s the Wind Master statue?”
“Your Highness!”
Up ahead, Mu Qing came rushing back, waving at them. Xie Lian and Feng Xin abandoned this old shrine and went after him. Mu Qing led them to a stone entryway in front of one of the last buildings left standing. It was a tiny inn, but the roof had been torn and carried away, and one wall was leaning inwards. A woman sat in the entryway, shivering, her face pale and eyes empty.
Xie Lian bent down in front of her, not caring for the water that soaked his robes. “Miss, can you speak with me?” he asked, and her eyes slowly rose to meet with his.
“Daozhang,” she said, clearly recognizing him for a cultivator. “Daozhang!” She suddenly burst to life, grabbing at his shoulders, tears streaking down her face. “The storm! The storm, is it over?”
“It’s over,” Xie Lian replied. “Look, it’s the sun.” He motioned upwards, then gently removed her hands from his person. She instead clasped them together and looked between the three around her, watery eyes telling of her traumatic experience. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Her eyes glazed over, as if she was remembering. “The night was so clear. There weren't even clouds. But we could hear water hitting the rooftop.” She glanced upwards, tilting her head, listening for the non-existent pattering of raindrops. “When we looked out, there was a wave cresting. It towered, throwing us all into its shadow. When the first wave hit, everything went dark. All of the fires went out. People were screaming. But the waves kept on coming. And then...then he walked through.” She shuddered all over.
“He?”
As if she was reliving that night, her eyes became unfocused, fingers gripping onto Xie Lian’s robes again. “He walked upon the water as if it were stone. And he destroyed our shrine! Why? What did we do?”
“I do not know, Miss.” Xie Lian gently took her hands away from his robes, nodding to her respectfully. “I would like to find out, though.”
Xie Lian glanced up at Mu Qing, then he stood up and stepped away with the other two. Mu Qing seemed to have something he wanted to say, so Xie Lian turned and nodded at him, encouraging him to speak his mind. “If we’re going off the assumption that Lord Black Water definitely did this,” he said, “was it enough of a motive for him to do so simply because this village still worshipped Shi Wudu? If that’s the case, there’s still hundreds of tiny villages he could be trampling, and we’ve gotten no reports of that.”
Feng Xin snorted. “Not like we would. The Civil Gods are still struggling through everything with Ling Wen locked up.”
Xie Lian rubbed at his forehead, thinking. “Well, if he followed the Lord Wind Master here, then he could have been driven into a rage by seeing the shrine. Or, the shrine was completely separate from his reasoning, and it became a simple casualty same as everything else.”
“But if it wasn’t the shrine, and he wasn’t going to feed on these people...then why?” Feng Xin asked. “Black Water has never attacked the land before. Isn’t this technically encroaching on Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s turf?”
Xie Lian stiffened a bit, then waved his hand. “We need to row out and see what’s out there. Go and see if you can find oars, and we’ll use that dingy. It looks like the only boat left that’s not crushed to pieces.” He waved them away, then slowly turned and walked back to the young woman. Xie Lian smiled, bending down in front of her. His eyes rose to the large gash on the side of her head, which dripped blood onto her shoulder. “Miss, it’s time you rest now,” he said, taking the ghost woman’s hands. “Your story is heard.”
She stared at him, more tears in her eyes. “Black Water,” she said, softly, voice trembling. “The water...the water was all black. Every wave. He...he brought it with him.”
“I know,” Xie Lian said. “Don’t worry. I’ll stop this from happening again.”
Her eyes grew misty again, then she ducked her head. A moment later, the wind carried her spirit away, and Xie Lian stood to walk back to the docks again.
Feng Xin took up the oars, rowing them out into the sea beyond. Xie Lian sat at the bow, looking across the waves. There was nothing dark or foreboding about these waters, and the sun was shining over them brightly. Wispy clouds floated across the blue expanse and reflected downward. The breeze caused a bit of choppiness, but it was hardly abnormal.
“You Highness,” Mu Qing said, causing him to turn. “If Black Water did intrude on Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s territory, why didn’t he intercede?”
Xie Lian hesitated, then turned in his seat to face both of them. “The truth is, the two have an arrangement, not to interfere in the other’s affairs. If, say, Black Water were to see this destruction as part of his revenge, I can see San Lang overlooking it.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words,” Xie Lian replied. “Really, the situation with Lord Black Water is...the only time San Lang has ever really lied to me. Lying might be a strong word, of course, because he was really just omitting information in order to keep me in the dark. Because of this arrangement, he kept me from interceding as much as he could.”
Mu Qing and Feng Xin exchanged a look, and the former asked, “Do you think he’s omitting information now?”
“I don’t. I hope not, anyway. The two of them have a strange relationship with each other. I believe one might call them friends, with how long they’ve worked with each other.” Xie Lian looked down into the water for a brief moment. Feng Xin’s rowing moved them through the waters at a brisk pace, and the rocking wasn’t so bad.
“I notice that he’s not here with us,” Mu Qing said.
Xie Lian hummed.
“It’s not like you two to be apart, and that’s the only reason why I’m asking.”
“What are you asking exactly?” Xie Lian leveled him with a look.
“Are you sure that Hua Cheng is trustworthy?” Mu Qing stared right back at him, not backing down, letting his concerns be known.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Feng Xin suddenly huffed, his rhythm stopping. They drifted without direction now, and Feng Xin brought one of the oars around and poked Mu Qing in the back with it. “If His Highness thought Hua Cheng was behind this, then he clearly would have told us already.”
Mu Qing whirled around, lifting his hand to slap at the oar. He thought better of it at the last second, then just rolled his eyes. “I never said I thought he was behind this! I said, if he knows something,” Mu Qing turned back to Xie Lian to continue, “would he tell you?”
Xie Lian tilted his head. “I want to say yes, because I trust San Lang more than anybody, but…” It became vastly more complicated with the evidence they were accruing. “He Xuan is clearly up to something,” he said. “Whatever that is, whatever his plan is, he’s either told San Lang, or he hasn’t. If San Lang knows, and wishes to help him, then I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do. But if San Lang doesn’t know, and I don’t think he does, then all we have to do is figure out exactly what the plan is and stop him before another God is dragged down. I won’t see the Lord Wind Master hurt anymore, if I can help it.”
Hua Cheng was a Supreme Ghost King, the Ghost King most known for his power and will with infiltrating in the Heavens. Xie Lian could hardly forget what he had done after first emerging. He knew Hua Cheng would never hurt him, but that didn't necessarily extend to anyone else. And, though Hua Cheng would certainly deny it, he seemed to have a begrudging respect for He Xuan. Xie Lian wasn’t joking when he called them friends, after all.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin both were silent now, seeming to mull over his words. The Supreme Ghost Kings had always been trouble, to a certain extent. After all, no one could touch Ship Sinking Black Water, and Hua Cheng had essentially dared anyone to try messing around in his domain. They ruled their own respective domains, each with a different method. Qi Rong had been an outlier, of course, but someone to be feared as well. And...well, White No-Face had been a demon of his own variety. But now, in a world with only two Ghost Kings, the idea of them teaming up and making a strike on the newly rebuilt Heavens was enough to bring silence to any Heavenly Official. Xie Lian didn’t fear this kind of move in the same way his companions did; he worried instead over whether or not his lover was being as truthful as he always promised to be.
“Your Highness, up ahead,” Feng Xin said, and Xie Lian turned.
They rowed into a wreckage. Wood from many different boats floated in the choppy water, sails caught up and twisted with fishing nets that slowly took on water and started to sink. Xie Lian stood up at the bow, looking over the graveyard of ships, his fingers curving as they took in more and more of the destruction. “If this was the same sea where the Wind Master was set adrift, how the hell did this dingy not get crushed?” Mu Qing asked, in his words a silent horror.
“Because, for some reason, He Xuan wanted to keep him alive,” Xie Lian said, grimly.
The dingy suddenly jolted, and Xie Lian stabilized himself before he could tip overboard, then he turned on his toes to look behind them. The water seemed to grow darker around them, and something else hit the boat from underneath.
“What the fuck?” Feng Xin asked, grabbing the oar on his right tightly as something jerked it forward into the water. The wood slipped from his hands, and it was sucked underneath. Before he could stop it, the second oar disappeared as well. “What the fuck!?”
Mu Qing stood up, drawing his saber, and he glanced around them as the boat rocked from strike after strike. Something was swirling underneath them, and Xie Lian looked overboard to see the water rippling and twisting. “It’s going to suck us under,” he said, alarmed, and he grabbed onto Mu Qing, then sent Ruoye out to loop around Feng Xin, who had one hand stuck under the water to feel around for the oar. “Use your saber,” he said to Mu Qing, who nodded, then mounted the blade.
They flew up, away from the boat, and Feng Xin cussed as he was dragged along a few feet underneath them by Ruoye. Turning his head, Xie Lian watched a bone dragon emerge from the water, its maw gaping wide open, and it bit into the boat and dragged it deep underwater. He’d been right - He Xuan was back, and he’d brought his creatures to dissuade them from pursuing him.
This only meant one thing to Xie Lian. They were on the right track.
‘Lord Wind Master, it’s me.’
‘Your Highness! What do you need?’
‘Apologies for the sudden questions, but we are leaving this village now, and I wondered where exactly did you go after leaving here?’
They stood on the beach, and Xie Lian wrapped Ruoye back around his arm and stroked the silk band a few times to calm it. Feng Xin was sitting a few feet away, dumping sand out of one of his boots, and Mu Qing was telling him not to be so dramatic about being dragged through the air.
“Fuck off! You weren’t the one dangling like a piece of live bait for those creepy skeletal fishes!”
“Would His Highness let you get eaten?”
“No!”
“So stop complaining!”
Xie Lian sighed, then turned away from them with a fond smile. Sometimes it did feel a bit too much like old times when he was around them.
‘Honestly, Your Highness, I don’t remember much. I think we walked up a path inland. We wanted to get far away from the South Sea after everything that happened.’
Shi Qingxuan, in their private communication array, could only give him vague maybes when it came to where he’d gone. Of course, Xie Lian knew this was going to be one of the problems with this investigation, but it was still disheartening. He looked around on the beach, and there were multiple paths they might have walked, but the nearest one seemed the most inviting to a group of shivering migrants who’d just been adrift on the sea. Berry bushes populated the edges of the trail, and they seemed to be the edible variety.
‘Did you pick berries along the way?’ Xie Lian asked, just to be sure.
After a moment, Shi Qingxuan responded, ‘Yes! I remember the children ending up with bright blue fingers from popping berries in their hands!’
‘Then we are on the right track. I will talk to you later, Lord Wind Master.’
After getting Feng Xin and Mu Qing calmed down, they set off down the path. It wasn’t paved, but there was a clear separation, with bushes seemingly purposefully planted on each side. Some parts were beginning to be overgrown, and there were patches of grass on the trail now that they stepped over. Xie Lian glanced up as they crested a hill, and he saw a temple roof peeking at them through the trees.
These were probably temple grounds, once cared for by the cultivators who resided there, but it seemed to have been abandoned recently. Everything still had a quality of being tended to, but the overgrowth was sign enough that had stopped at some point in the near past. They continued walking until the trees faded, and they stepped onto a cobblestone path. The temple was older, built with towering walls. The architecture was reminiscent of a different time, and Xie Lian would guess it was at least a hundred years old.
As they rounded the front of the building, Feng Xin cursed and pointed up to the establishment plaque. “Temple of the Wind,” it read, in a proud script. But something was off. The plaque was clearly new, while the rest of the building was old.
“Something’s strange about this,” Mu Qing said, and Xie Lian could only nod.
He stepped forward, pushing on the doors until they swung inwards. Before them, there was a glittering temple. The arched windows along the sides let in the evening sunlight, and a large statue was positioned against the back wall. With flowing hair and gentle eyes, this could be none other than Shi Qingxuan, and it was a fairly decent replica of her face as well. This statue was female, carved from a light-colored stone. The altar was completely empty, however, not even containing incense sticks to burn.
A noise from the back put them all on alert, and each went to their chosen weapons. Feng Xin gripped his bow, a hand behind his back to draw an arrow, Mu Qing pulled his saber from its sheath, and Xie Lian raised an arm with Ruoye ready to pounce. However, the man who entered from the back of the temple was old, and he hobbled as if he had a bad back. When he saw them all standing there, his eyes widened, and he paused mid step out of shock.
Xie Lian lifted his other hand to let his companions know to hold back, then he stepped forward, cautiously. He smiled. “Forgive us, sir. We do not mean to intrude, but we didn’t expect anyone else to be here at this time.”
“Ah, daozhangs.” The man let out a breath, then bowed to each of them in quick motions. He could not fully rise from a bow due to his curved back, and he shuffled forward with labored steps. He was old, with lines on his face, but he seemed lively for someone who had such trouble walking. “Apologies, apologies, this temple is not quite ready for worship yet, but you are welcome to stay if you need.”
“We did not realize there even was a temple here,” Xie Lian replied. “We came up a trail filled with berries. Ah, we’re looking for friends of ours. Migrants from the Imperial City.”
The man nodded. “They were here. Before the temple was repaired. I was hired to be the keeper of this temple while the renovations are being finished.” He nodded his head. “A good group of workers, they were. I paid them to help, but they left after my master returned."
“And who is your master?” Xie Lian asked.
“Master He Sheng,” he replied, bowing his head and shuffling a bit. At the name, even saying it, this elder seemed to become rather nervous. He tottered about, then folded his weathered hands together.
Xie Lian glanced over at Feng Xin and Mu Qing, giving them a subtle nod. After all, He Sheng was also He Xuan, they were one and the same. Smiling at the elder once again, Xie Lian asked, “could you tell us what happened on the night when our friends were here? Do you know where they might have gone after they left?”
The old man thought, his fingers tapping against his knuckles, and he motioned for them to follow him through the temple. They came upon a simple back room for the caretaker to live, with a low table for them to sit at. He went to retrieve food for them, then sat as well to tell them what he knew.
The old temple had been nearly totally wrecked when the mysterious Master He had arrived and paid over a generous sum to begin repairing the building. Holes in the roof were patched, new floors were put in, and the old caretaker was left with the job of finding workers to strip the two statues from inside. Master He insisted that the new Wind Master statue would be more excellent than these two divine sculptures combined, and the caretaker learned quickly to not ask very many questions.
Finding workers to help him in the closest village proved difficult. He was met with sneers about the Wind and Water temple being cursed. Hadn’t he heard about the ones swept out into the sea, burned to the ground in the night, the worshipers that were killed when they entered to try to pay their respects or pray to the two fallen Gods. In some places, the Temple of Wind and Water were the only places to go to worship, and when prayers were ignored, people ultimately turned to violence. However, nothing compared to the destruction that rose up from the sea. Riches seized by skeletal hands, ghouls ripping through temples and taking every bit of gold and pearl to bring it back to their master under the waves.
When a group of migrants appeared coming up the path, the caretaker felt himself luckier than he had been in weeks. He rushed to them, jingling coins and offering to pay handsomely if they stuck around to help with renovations. The leader of this group, a half-lame man with youthful eyes that shined from under the fringe of his bangs, bartered hard for fair wages. And the caretaker, desperate, had offered everything he had. Nothing terrified him more than the returning sight of Master He, seeing that he had nothing done.
When he’d brought the migrants back up the hill, the leader who he’d figured was named Ol’ Feng, had nearly bowled over completely when he saw the establishment plaque that hadn’t yet been replaced. Temple of Wind and Water it displayed proudly. But, after feeling the weighty coin purse that the caretaker offered, he swept his good arm to guide the others in. And they set to work.
“You work hard, for someone dragging that leg around,” the caretaker said, at a point, as they secured ropes around the Lady Wind Master statue. Someone had lobbed a rock into its face, and there was a large crack across the delicate features. Ol’ Feng considered this statement, using fingers and teeth to tie the knots in the rope.
“Well, someone’s got to around here!” He glanced to the gathering of migrants spilled out on the floor as they enjoyed a drink and a few fruits purchased from a nearby vendor. His eyes shined when he spoke. “Look at this lot! Worthless!”
“Ah, hush up Ol’ Feng!”
“We’ve been working since sun up!”
He laughed, merrily, then stood up and put his hand on his hip. “Okay, let’s-” He glanced up at the statue’s face, and his expression dipped slightly. “Let’s pull her down. Hey, who’s this temple gonna belong to now?” His curious gaze fell on the caretaker, who shifted uncomfortably under the stare.
Every worker he’d tried to pay for services had scurried away when he’d told the truth. No one thought it made much sense to build a temple to a fallen God, and even less wanted to dirty their hands with the cursed Shi family. So, he lied. “I’m a simple servant, so I don't know much about the dealings of Gods. Some new Wind Master, I assume.”
“Oh.”
Ol’ Feng hummed, then he clapped his hand against his thigh. “Alright, everybody up! Come on. Take the ropes and pull her down!”
The rest of the day was spent carefully removing the old Lady Wind Master statue from the temple. She was laid against the ground outside, and the caretaker thought of the best way to dispose of her. He imagined that he should break her into smaller stones and throw them to the forest. It would be the easiest. Or maybe he could have these migrants cart her down to the sea and give her as a sacrifice to the Ship Sinking Black Water. In any case, this had taken the whole day, and it was time to rest.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the migrants scurried back inside. Save for Ol’ Feng. He stood outside in the rain, head tilted backwards as the rainwater pelted down around him. The caretaker, standing just inside the doors, watched this for a while. A strange young man, he couldn’t help but note. Working with him, he got the impression that he held a deep sadness in his chest, and perhaps those laughs were more hollow than they seemed. Eventually, Ol’ Feng came inside, and he curled up on the floor, away from the other migrants who had taken to sleeping inside the temple.
It was deep into the night when three shadowy figures appeared. The doors to the temple flew open with a gust of cold wind, and Master He walked through. Flanked on either side by two women who hid their faces behind long, flowing sleeves. The caretaker, half asleep where he bent awkwardly over his table, jerked awake. Flickering candleglow shone around the temple, but the three figures seemed perpetually dipped in darkness. Where they walked, the light fled.
“M-Master He!” The caretaker stood, and he bent as much as he could with his bowed back. “M-Master, I-I-”
“I said I wanted that gone by the time I returned.”
The caretaker turned to look at the Water Master statue which still towered over the room. Shadows fell on the cracked form, but it still held at least a trace of regal glory. The caretaker swallowed, thickly, and he ducked his hands in front of him and bowed again. “Apologies, Master He. It took some time to find workers willing to come to such a cursed place.”
Master He narrowed his eyes, then he glanced to the Water Master statue. One of the women moved forward, quick as a bolt of lightning, and the statue was kicked down. It crumbled against the floor, and the migrants all woke with startled sounds. Ol’ Feng, sitting up with a rumbling and quizzical hum, glanced forward. The head of the statue, dislodged, rolled across the floor and came to rest in front of him.
As his eyes found it, Ol’ Feng screamed. It was such a shrill and heart shattering noise that the caretaker actually took a nervous step back. Master He’s shoulders had gone stiff, and the two women returned to his sides as he turned to look down at the screaming man. Ol’ Feng, reaching out, gently touched his fingers to the Water Master’s stone cheek, then he pulled his hand back and tucked his head under the curtain of his hair.
“Qingxuan.”
Ol’ Feng’s shoulders grew tighter at the name, and he slowly lifted his head again. Tears jeweled against his skin, and he stared at Master He. When recognition flickered in his eyes, he stood up. Swaying on his injured leg, he started toward the door. “Come on, we’re leaving.” He spoke over the migrants, who simply looked at each other.
“Ol’ Feng, we’ve got jobs here. Where else are we going to-”
“Then stay here! But I can’t!” He limped out into the rain. Master He turned to watch him, then he took off and chased after him with quick steps. The caretaker took to spying out the door as the young master spoke with the migrant beggar. He could see tears mixing with rainwater as they rolled down Ol’s Feng’s face. He tried turning away, and Master He roughly grabbed his arm. He seemed to shrink in on himself, until a long dagger was presented.
Master He showed off the blade, somehow glinting dangerously in the moonless night, then he slid it carefully into a pure, black sheath that seemed almost made of glass. This was tucked into Ol’ Feng’s hand, then a hefty coin purse. With that, he swept back inside the temple, and the caretaker moved to get out of the way. “Get rid of that,” he said, and his female companions moved back to the Water Master's divine statue. Master He turned on the caretaker, staring at him with blazing yellow eyes. “By the time I return, this temple will be completed, or I’ll throw you to the sea.” With barely a flicker, he was gone, and the migrants in the temple quickly rushed out.
The caretaker tried hobbling after them, calling out into the stormy night that he would give them more wages. But who would stay in the temple owned by a Ghost King?
Xie Lian tapped his chin as the caretaker left to retrieve water from the well outside.
“Is Black Water repairing this temple...to mock the Water Master?”
“If that was the case, why wouldn’t he make it a temple to worship himself?” Feng Xin asked, tearing a piece of bread and offering half to Mu Qing. “He was supposed to be a God in the first place, so you would think he’d want to uplift himself - not the Wind Master who took his fate.”
“Unless the temple ties into how he made the Wind Master ascend again.” Mu Qing held the cup of water to his lips for a moment, but he eventually settled it down again. “Do we have any idea how he did that?”
Xie Lian shook his head. “That’s assuming that he had something to do with it at all. We know that he’s been following Shi Qingxuan, but not for what reason.”
“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious,” Feng Xin replied.
“Maybe. Or maybe we’re falling into what he wants us to think.”
“What do you mean?” Mu Qing shoved some rice onto Feng Xin’s plate. Xie Lian hadn’t even touched his food, too engrossed in his own thoughts.
“It’s just a theory.” Xie Lian finally picked up his chopsticks. “Perhaps he is just stalking him to terrorize him, not the cause of the events, but a silent observer of them. He may still want to torment Shi Qingxuan, but in a more restrained way. He did masquerade as Ming Yi for hundreds of years, so I don’t see how it’d be impossible for him to have some other long, patient plan laid out. If that’s the case, he may never make a violent move against the Wind Master, but simply follow him like a shadow forever.”
“Bit like a Reverend of Empty Words,” Feng Xin said. Of course, everyone knew of He Xuan’s true misfortune by this point. The story had been passed around the Heavens multiple times.
This led to many other unsettling possibilities, but they didn’t have enough information to form any conclusions. Eventually, their discussion waned, and that caretaker came back with more water. He offered again for them to stay, but Xie Lian felt it important that they press on. He left the caretaker with protection charms - though he didn’t know what good they would do against a Supreme Ghost King - and they continued on to the next town.
“Wake up.”
Before him, Shi Qingxuan lifted his head off the side of the couch, and he blinked his eyes a few times. “Huh?” he asked, and he looked around, blearily. When his eyes finally fell on He Xuan, he let out a small laugh. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” He laughed, nervously, then he stood up. “I must have fallen asleep. I grew very used to sleeping when I was mortal.” He paused, and his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.
He Xuan linked his hands in front of him, giving a respectful bow. “Shen Fang,” he said. “I’m from General Xuan Zhen’s middle court. He sent me to-”
“Oh, I know this game,” Shi Qingxuan said, and he sat back down. “Xie Lian told me all about how you and General Nan Yang pretended to be your own subordinates to help him. You don’t have to pretend just to save some face, General Xuan Zhen. I promise that I won’t tell anyone that you had a hand in helping out the poor, disgraced former Wind Master.”
He Xuan’s brow twitched, and he filed this information away, then he straightened up to his full height. Or, the full height of the much smaller Middle Court Official he had disguised himself as. With a wave of his hand, he removed this disguise in favor of another, and he settled his hands over his chest. Shi Qingxuan watched him, entirely clueless of his real identity. “You are no longer the former Wind Master, and I wouldn’t call you disgraced.”
“Oh...right.” He smiled, but there was something pensive about the expression. “Did Xie Lian send you to tell me that you’ve found something?”
“No,” he replied. Shaking his shoulders a bit, he tried to loosen up, coming to sit beside Shi Qingxuan on the fine couch. His eyes scanned the palace. It certainly wasn’t quite made of the same finery that his old one had been. It was rebuilt, however, and that’s all that mattered. He propped his arm against the back of the couch, turning to stare at Shi Qingxuan. “You have not celebrated returning to the Heavenly Court yet. I was wondering why.”
The question seemed to take Shi Qingxuan by surprise, and he pulled his fan from his sash, fiddling with it. He opened it partway, and He Xuan lowered his eyes to look at the cracked spine. “Truth be told, I’m expecting them to find that I have ascended through another...mistake, and I’ll have to return to the human realm sooner or later. I shouldn’t get too comfortable.”
“Is that why you’re sleeping on your couch?”
“Ahahaha, perhaps.” He patted the couch. “This is much more comfortable than the cold ground.”
He Xuan shifted uncomfortably. “...agreed.”
“The truth is...I don’t know how to grow accustomed to this kind of finery again. That sounds so silly. I spent centuries as a God. It should be simple to just...be a God again. Between being terrified of Lord Black Water and being sure that this is just as a false as my last ascension…” He let out a laugh that made He Xuan nearly jump, and Shi Qingxuan stood up and tucked his broken fan away once more. “In any case, thank you for coming to check on me. Others have also stated that they can’t wait for me to celebrate. So I will do that. At the very least, I can throw a fun party before I have to go back to the human realm.”
“You’re not going back to the human realm,” He Xuan stated, his voice more grim than it should have been. Shi Qingxuan stood against his table, looking through the small collection of wines that he’d been gifted. He pulled one jug down, two cups, and he brought it back over to the couch.
“Hmm, thank you for the comfort, but I’m still unsure of that.” He poured two cups of wine, then handed one to He Xuan. He was careful to take it, making sure their skin didn’t brush for even an instant. He was sure that his chilled skin would give him away instantly, now that Shi Qingxuan knew what to look for. “Clearly...Lord Black Water has a plan for me. Your Crown Prince is sure of that as well.”
“Xie Lian is-” He cut himself off, and Shi Qingxuan glanced at him with surprise. He Xuan gripped the cup tighter. “If there is a plan, we’ll uncover it, and report back to you. But I’m sure His Highness the Crown Prince is more than capable of preventing Lord Black Water from moving against you again.” He glanced down into the cup, then brought it to his lips. Just as he was about to drink, Shi Qingxuan reached out to grab it, pulling it backwards. Their hands tangled, and the wine spilled down the front of his black robes, and He Xuan quickly stood.
“Oh! No! I’m sorry!” Shi Qingxuan seemed to forget himself, and he stood up, going to retrieve a cloth to press to his chest. “I just...remembered your cultivation! You use the same as His Highness, so you can’t drink!”
“Right,” He Xuan said, watching Shi Qingxuan press the cloth against his chest to soak up the alcohol now dirtying the front of his robes. A good disguise for that of General Xuan Zhen, who liked to dress plainly, yet finely. He was distinguished and dignified, not unlike how He Xuan dressed himself. They were close enough in styles that it hadn’t been difficult to pass off his own robes as those belonging to the famous Mu Qing. He hadn’t thought Shi Qingxuan would remember such a ridiculous bit of trivia about the other Heavenly Official, and it really didn’t matter to him to keep the illusion. “I have to go.”
“Ahaha, right.” Shi Qingxuan dropped his hands, and for a moment, He Xuan saw a flicker of loneliness in his expression. “You have to get back to your investigation.”
“Of course.” He Xuan stepped away, and he folded his hands behind his back and gave a partial bow, semi-respectful. “Take care, Lord Wind Master.”
Shi Qingxuan bowed back. “Thank you.”
With that, he left, though when he exited the door of Shi Qingxuan’s palace, it was through a portal and into his own realm. The Nether Water Manor was cool and dank, the walls carrying with them a constant moisture. As he walked through, shaking off his disguise and putting his own face back together, He Xuan listened to the sweeping of his generals throwing themselves through the air to land behind him. He went to his throne, an obsidian black seat that sat at the head of the large entry hall. After the momentous victory against Shi Wudu, he had for awhile leaned into his title. After all, he was a Supreme Ghost King of the demon realm. He should, by all logic, lord this over his domain. He sat down on his throne, wide sleeves falling over the arms. His generals walked forward, giving low bows.
“Where is the Crown Prince of Xian Le?” he asked, his nails scraping against the arm of the throne. He tapped them, the sharp clicking carrying in the large, silent hall.
“They are on a sure path straight to Fu Gu,” Luo Daiyu replied, and she lifted her head. The two ghost women he had collected as his generals went to their knees. He Xuan, thinking on it at the time, had decided that Heavenly Officials could have generals, and he had always been meant to be one, so this should be his right. And it was obvious just who he should choose. The two watched him with wide smiles, hair in complex buns atop their heads, and they each wore dangling pins of ivory, jade, and fine jewels. They decorated themselves however they wished, and they did his bidding with swift action.
Wu Liling spoke, her voice higher and softer than that of her companion’s. “They have discovered the Wind Master Temple near the South Sea, and are currently marching toward your home village.”
“Hm.” He Xuan thought this over, and he clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Of course, they would have to interfere. Go to the temple at Fu Gu and be ready to intercept them. Do not do battle with the Crown Prince, but let me know when he arrives. I’ll keep a watch on them myself.”
“Yes, Master He,” they whispered, rising to their feet. With a flash, the ghost women were gone, rushing through a portal that he opened with a lift of two fingers. And he was alone again, staring at the dark walls of the Nether Water Manor.
Standing up, He Xuan took to the hallways, and he walked with his shoulders back. The few underlings that crowded the halls made themselves scarce as he walked. The loud, uproariously jovial streets of the Ghost City served as a twisted opposite to his own realm. The ghosts here did not chatter. They kept their mouths closed, or water would rush out and spill out over the floors. Drowned ghosts with bloated bodies and pale faces, watched him with fear and awe as he tracked through his lair.
Coming to an archway, He Xuan entered. His head dipped down, and the candles flickered to life all around him. Before him, a shrine sat. The black urns sucked in the light from the candles like voids in the darkness. He fell to his knees, crawling forward with a wince. “Forgive me,” he whispered, in a rasp, and he pressed his forehead down against the cold tiles. The feeling that ate away in his chest, guilt. He crawled like a worm in front of his family. “I’m sorry.”
He lifted his head, glaring at the skull that sat in front of the urns. The empty eyes stared back at him, and He Xuan gritted his teeth together so hard that it made his jaw ache. “I don’t know what more I’m supposed to do.” He crawled closer, looking at the plaques before each urn, and he touched his wife’s name. He bent down, rested his cheek against the characters, and his body curled around the emptiness inside his chest.
Ghosts did not need to sleep. Ghosts could sleep. He Xuan did not, but he did not move, either. He would like to disperse right then, go and find his family in the afterlife, rest with them. But there were still things to be done here, something keeping him tethered. But, for now, he could take a moment and be with them in the only way he could.
The Heavenly Realm was almost too quiet.
Shi Qingxuan barely had any worshipers yet, had no real duties to speak of, and he found himself within the newly built Wind Master Palace...alone. With his thoughts. He truly felt out of place in the gilded halls. The fine robes were so much different than the coarse clothing he patched together while on the streets, begging for scraps and dragging his leg through the mud because he couldn’t lift it.
His fan remained unfixed, and he had no spiritual device with which to control the wind. And Xie Lian seemed to be at least partially sure that staying in Heaven was the best thing for him at this time. Ship Sinking Black Water’s motives and actions were still largely unknown, and Xie Lian kept his lips mostly sealed on what they were uncovering on Earth. He’d asked about that temple, but Shi Qingxuan barely remembered anything about it.
Except the head.
Stone eyes, staring back at him.
Screaming until his lungs were sore, and still not able to expel the horrifying rush of memories that rose like bile in his throat.
The brief visit of General Xuan Zhen was an outlier. Heavenly Officials seemed to avoid his palace, and he was isolated. It was strange, because he never had been before. Shi Qingxuan had always surrounded himself with friends, given out merits like drops of water, and other Heavenly Officials had flocked to him with beaming smiles and silver-lined words. How empty that praise seemed now, when he sat alone and walked empty hallways.
Shi Qingxuan tried to busy himself with perfecting the new palace for what would be his second congratulatory ceremony welcoming him to the Heavens. He wasn’t looking forward to it. In the back of his mind, he knew that this fate still wasn’t his own, he hadn’t earned his place here, and it was all probably orchestrated by a mad ghost bent on making him suffer until he couldn’t survive anymore.
But when he thought of those things, his mind warped, until he couldn’t remember anything but the coldness of the Nether Water Manor, and the warm spray of blood across his cheeks.
As he walked through the entry parlor, he stopped when something new caught his eye. Sitting on a small table near the door was a bronze Wind Master statue, only about two feet high, but he had never seen it before. Coming closer, he examined it, then hefted it up to move it to a different place. General Xuan Zhen must have brought it to him as a gift, and he noted to himself that he should thank him later. Moving it to another room, he settled it down and stared at the crudely carved face. It didn’t really look like him, not even like his female form. As he straightened it, a swirl of light came from the other side of the room.
Grabbing at the broken fan at his side, he pointed it toward the intruding ghost, who merely smirked at him. When Shi Qingxuan saw the red tunic, he dropped his arm and let out a shaky breath.
“Not in the mood for guests, Lord Wind Master?” Hua Cheng asked, smirking as he rolled his dice in his hand.
“Crimson Rain Sought Flower!” he called, feeling intensely awkward, and he let out a wild bout of laughter. “Apologies.” Shi Qingxuan bowed a few times, then motioned for him to come inside. “Most would knock on the front door. I thought you might be…”
“Black Water?” Hua Cheng snickered, then walked over to the chaise longue and dropped to sit down. He put his feet up, making himself at home. The bright red of his clothing contrasted to the gold fabric behind him, but he seemed quite at ease. Shi Qingxuan gave a nod, sitting across from him. “Well, if Black Water comes for you, more than likely you won’t know it. So I wouldn’t be too worried.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Ah, let me rephrase.” Hua Cheng settled his elbow on the side of the chaise and rested his cheek in his hand. “He is even better than me at disguising himself and blending in. He had hundreds of clones in the Heavens, and no one even suspected that something was amiss. There’s probably not a person on Earth or a God in the Heavens that he couldn’t impersonate, and that’s not even counting him making faces that are purely uniqure to him.” Hua Cheng smiled. “What I’m saying, Lord Wind Master, is that there are so many ways in which Black Water might come for you, that worrying over them all is pointless, and will frankly not help you in anyway. After all, if I can get into your palace so easily, imagine what someone used to being sneakier can do?”
The answer, whether intentional or not, sent a haunting chill down Shi Qingxuan’s back. Who knew if this was Crimson Rain Sought Flower’s goal? Who could say? Letting out a soft laugh, Shi Qingxuan put his broken fan away. “Of course, of course, you’re right. I shouldn’t worry. Besides, I trust that His Highness will protect me and everyone else here.”
“Right, that’s why I’m here,” Hua Cheng said, his eye going a little hard.
“For His Highness? He’s not here.” Shi Qingxuan laughed again. “I mean, obviously he’s not here in my palace, but I mean, he’s not here in the Heavenly Realm at all.”
“I knew that, otherwise I would have gone straight to him,” Hua Cheng replied, a note of impatience in his tone. “He’s not been very forthcoming about where exactly he is, and he’s ignoring me in our private array. You can imagine that I’m not too thrilled about this.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know why he’d be ignoring you,” Shi Qingxuan said. “He’s investigating...to find out what Ship Sinking Black Water wishes to do to me. He’s with General Nan Yang and General Xuan Zhen near the South Sea.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re...welcome.” He nearly trailed off as Hua Cheng stood up and tossed his dice, opening up his Distance Shortening Array. Before he stepped through, Shi Qingxuan spoke again. “Ah, sorry to bother you, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, but do you have any idea how I could...maybe tell if Black Water is around or not?”
Hua Cheng paused, glancing at Shi Qingxuan with his brow raised. “It’d be a waste of time. I’ve never known someone who could blend in where he didn’t belong so easily,” he replied. “My advice? Trust no one. Remember that he can be whoever he wants. He could even be me, right now. That’s why I told you not to worry. If he comes for you, you’ll never know, not until it’s too late. It’ll be just as it was before. He’s patient, and he’s vicious. So unless you want to live your life in constant fear, I’d forget he’s even after you. You’re not going to gain anything by trying to spot discrepancies in everyone and everything around you.”
“Ah.” Shi Qingxuan regretted asking.
“Does that help?”
“Yes. Thank you, Crimson Rain Sought Flower.”
Hua Cheng left after that, and Shi Qingxuan tried not to panic.
As they moved north away from the South Sea, the weather grew muggier. They stopped at a river cutting through a grove of trees, bending and washing their hands and faces in the water. Feng Xin stepped up behind Mu Qing and shoved him with his boot, laughing as Mu Qing fell face first into the river. He sat up, grabbing at Feng Xin’s ankles to drag him in as well, and they wrestled in the shallow water.
Xie Lian sighed, sitting on the grass and watching them as he thought of the last few days of their journey. They had visited five more Wind Master temples, each with towering statues carved from fine stone, each decorated with finery to make Shi Qingxuan proud. Each were converted Temples of Wind and Water, with Shi Wudu’s likeness ripped out with the violence of a hurricane.
‘Lord Wind Master?’ Xie Lian asked in their private array.
‘Your Highness! Am I glad to hear from you? What have you found out?’
‘Nothing new, I’m afraid. I had a question.’
‘Hopefully, I can answer it.’
Xie Lian glanced over to Mu Qing, who had climbed up onto the river bed. Feng Xin pounced on him from behind, getting his arms around his neck to wrestle him back to the ground again. Rubbing his temple, Xie Lian turned away from the two. ‘Did you see He Xuan again, after that night on the South Sea?’
‘Hahahah, no, why would you ask me that kind of question? Besides, I don’t remember anything! After staying at that old Wind and Water temple, I genuinely don’t remember what happened. It’s all a blur.’
Xie Lian dropped his hand from his temple, frowning. Something didn’t sit right with him about that answer. Turning his head, he glanced over to see Mu Qing slapping river mud onto Feng Xin’s face, so he stood up and walked over. “Will you two stop fighting?” he asked, but stopped as he came closer. Was that...laughter?
They both froze, then turned and looked at him. They rolled away from each other, then stood up, wiping their hands and arms free of mud. “Sorry, Your Highness,” Feng Xin replied.
Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “We’ve seen the same things in every tiny town, every city, and we’re not closer to any answers. I’m not sure that we’re going to find answers in any of these temples.”
“No, you’re right.” Xie Lian was reminded of the mission, and he instantly forgot about their strange behavior. “Ship Sinking Black Water stalked Shi Qingxuan from the South Sea, at least all the way here. Probably further. We still don’t know exactly where he ascended, or why. What tribulation he faced to do so.” Xie Lian picked up the bag of scraps he’d collected up in the city they’d just walked through. “We need to find the group of migrants he was traveling with.”
They set out on the road again, as soon as his companions washed the mud from their faces, and Xie Lian wiped at the sweat on his brow. There were shorter ways to travel, but they needed to question people along the way, and keep an eye out for a group of migrants. By sunset, they had found no leads, and Xie Lian sat next to a fire and put pieces of scrap into the soup, stirring it around with a piece of bark he’d cleaned off. Mu Qing watched him with an unrestrained disgust on his face.
“Alright. It’s done!” Xie Lian dropped the stick, then clapped his hands together. “Eat up!”
“No, you’re not going to poison us!”
“Absolutely fucking not! If we eat that, we’re going to be laying by the road for days while the crows pick at us!”
“Why is it purple? What did you put in there to make it turn purple?”
Xie Lian put a top on the pot, sighing, but a rustle of bushes made him lift his head. The bickering came to a stop as they all realized someone was standing just out of sight, off the path on the other side. Xie Lian stood up, Ruoye at the ready, and the silk fabric slipped through the air like an eel through water, twisting and catching onto the lurking stranger.
“Aye! What’s this now?!” An old man was dragged out, twisting as Ruoye trapped his arms together, and he dropped the fishing equipment he was carrying with him. An old basket and a rod with a simple string, it appeared. “Ah, fucking cultivators,” he cursed at seeing them, then spit on the ground. “What’re you doing attacking an old man like me, as if I’m a fierce ghost!”
“Apologies, sir!” Xie Lian called Ruoye back, holding out his wrist for the silk scarf to rewrap itself around. It nuzzled at his hand, and he patted the fabric until it settled again. “We worried you were something else.”
Mu Qing gave him a look, and Xie Lian merely smiled at him. “Would you like some soup?” he asked, gesturing back toward their fire. Feng Xin quirked an eyebrow up, his hand still gripping his bow at the ready.
“Soup?! That’s what that smell is? I thought something had died and was rotting on the road, and I was gonna kick it off to the bushes.” He huffed, taking a step back. The old man had a wiry beard, coarse with grey hairs, and his eyes were dark. He wore cheaply sewed clothes, had calluses and cuts on his hands from a life of toiling.
“Where are you traveling from?” Feng Xin asked, coming to stand between this old man and Xie Lian. “See any migrants from the Imperial City recently?”
“Huh?” He scratched at his bearded skin, a rough sound like sandpaper against rock, then nodded. “Ah, yeah, there’s a group of ‘em up in Fu Gu. They’ve settled in that old Wind and Water Temple, I think. Though, it’s not a Wind and Water Temple anymore.”
“Just a Wind Master Temple?” Xie Lian asked.
“En.” He nodded his head, then bent down to retrieve his fishing pole and basket. “This guy sticks around the place now. Master...Master He Something, I don’t remember. My mind is a lot less sharp than it used to be.” He swung that pole over his shoulder as he straightened up, peering up at each of them appraisingly for a moment. “Fu Gu is gearing up for its festival again this year. I’d stray clear if I were you, cultivators.”
“Why is that?” Mu Qing asked.
He glanced over, a sudden sharpness in his eyes. “Ghosts like to hunt during the Blood Soaked Fire Festival, and the master of Fu Gu lets them.”
“The Master of Fu Gu?” Xie Lian narrowed his eyes. “You mean, He Sheng?”
“Maybe that was his name. I’m not from there. I don’t know anything.”
“Hm. Thank you, sir.” Xie Lian bowed to him, then watched him hobble off down the trail. Walking back over to their fire, Mu Qing gazed back in his direction. Xie Lian waited patiently until he was surely out of earshot.
“Why would Lord Black Water use his real name in Fu Gu if he’s trying to masquerade as someone else?” Feng Xin asked.
“He wouldn’t,” Xie Lian stated, pulling the pot off the fire and setting it to the side. “And he isn’t. That man lied to us.”
“Why?” Mu Qing asked. “And how do you know?”
“Because that was He Xuan himself.”
Ultimately, they decided to go to Fu Gu anyway. If it was a trap, they were confident in their own abilities to escape it. And Xie Lian had a suspicion that He Xuan had been obvious in his disguise in order to let them know he wanted them there to talk, though why it needed to be at the Fu Gu Wind Master Temple was anyone’s guess.
The old, dilapidated temple that He Xuan had previously wrecked was sparkling new, redressed in finery both inside and out. The establishment plague hung proudly, the painted characters large and sweeping. “Keep a careful watch,” Xie Lian warned, already feeling a thrumming in the air. He had been here before, three years ago, and he recognized the energy as the village readied themselves for the Blood Soaked Fire Festival.
“Gold,” Feng Xin said, stepping up and touching the doors. They truly were plated in shining gold, and when he pushed them open, their eyes went wide. Xie Lian had certainly seen more impressive temples, but there was something bright and impressive about this one. It carried an air of brilliance, as if each piece was chosen and placed to exalt the divine energy. As they entered, two women stood at either side of the large altar, and they bowed lowly with fake smiles.
“Welcome Daozhangs, Master He is expecting you.”
Feng Xin notched an arrow in his bow, and Mu Qing’s sword scraped as he drew it from the sheath. He held his arms out to stop them, much more interested in getting his questions answered than starting a fight.
One woman, on the right, was dressed in all black. The other wore white robes with gold jewelry hanging from her fingers.
“We are not cultivators,” Xie Lian said, bringing his arms back in front of himself and tucking his hands into his sleeves.
These women giggled, hiding their smiles behind wide sleeves, glancing at each other. Feng Xin made an uncomfortable sound as he stepped back, and Mu Qing moved in front of him, ignoring Xie Lian and raising his saber. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, demanding an answer.
“We know you’re not cultivators,” the woman on the right said.
“General Xuan Zhen, do you prefer we call you by your title?” The other moved her arms, and the jewel encrusted bracelets she wore clinked together. “As we said, Master He has expected you! We are simply here to tell you to make yourself comfortable.”
“Why doesn’t your master show himself?” Mu Qing demanded, walking forward.
“Stay back,” Xie Lian hissed at him, his eyes traveling toward the walls. As they talked, the temple seemed to become darker. The doors swung shut behind them with two loud clangs. The candles positioned around the room dimmed, and Xie Lian could see something moving along the walls in slow, slippery motions. Ruoye floated up around him, and he turned to the side to brace himself for what might attack.
“If you want Master He, we can surely send for him,” the woman in black responded. Both of them raised their arms, then they vanished, into the darkness as the candles continued to dim down to nothing. The sunlight from the window seemed to wane, clouds rolling in like a scroll unfurled. Xie Lian watched, listening to the sharp clings and dragging metal scraps that came from all around them. They had expected a trap, yet it was still surprising to a certain extent. This was a very bold move for Ship Sinking Black Water to make.
“Watch out!”
Feng Xin shoved forward, his shoulder knocking against Mu Qing’s back as something dark and silent whipped through the air toward him. Instead, it grasped onto Feng Xin’s arm, winding up around him and tugging him upwards toward the ceiling. He let out a shout that echoed, and Mu Qing jumped up to try and cut him down. Another dark line shot out, swimming through the air like a viper, wrapping around his middle and pulling him into the darkness.
“Feng Xin! Mu Qing!” Xie Lian called for them, Ruoye making a protective coil around him as he glanced from side to side.
“I’m okay, Your Highness!” This came from above, from Feng Xin.
“Me, too!” Mu Qing sounded more strained but ultimately fine.
His eyes searched through the darkness, and he flipped away when one of those long, black things crept up near his foot. Ruoye battled against it, and they tangled together. When it came close enough to him, he realized it was a chain. Flinging itself through the air, obeying the commands of He Xuan to attack them. Ruoye flashed forward, and Xie Lian kicked the chain away from him. He flipped up onto that offering table, then turned and bowed to the Wind Master statue. “Apologies, Lady Wind Master,” he said, speaking to it, then he jumped up onto its shoulder. The chain sailed through the air toward him, but it seemed to realize where he was. Turning, it rushed back into the darkness, and Ruoye returned to Xie Lian’s arm.
“Get off.”
Looking up, he found himself staring into angry, yellow eyes.
He Xuan floated before him, his face gloomy, and he stared at Xie Lian. His gaze was relentlessly cruel, and he carried with him a melancholic rage that bubbled like magma before an eruption.
Xie Lian glanced down at the statue’s shoulder. “I see…” He frowned. “Did you craft this yourself, Lord Black Water?”
He scoffed. “Do I look like Crimson Rain Sought Flower to you? I commissioned it. Now. Get off.”
Xie Lian wasn’t sure giving up his place of relative safety was all that good of an idea. The trees outside the windows cast complex shadows on the floor around the statue, and he could see chains slithering about the edges of the light, like snakes ready to strike. “Can I ask why you, Lord Black Water, would wish to purchase such extravagance for your mortal enemy?”
“No.” He Xuan’s face twitched, then he swept his hand out, sleeve fluttering, and the snaking chains fled out into the darkness again. Xie Lian could hear them clinging together as they coiled up against the walls. “This is the Wind Master Temple. You’ve seen it. You know that it is my doing. That should answer your questions. Return to the Heavenly Realm and stop following me.”
“I can’t do that. Not until I know what you have planned for the Lord Wind Master!”
He Xuan glanced upwards, and suddenly a scream ripped through the air as Feng Xin plummeted from the ceiling, landing on the floor beneath them. Across from them, Mu Qing also dropped down, though he was able to land more gracefully. Running over, Mu Qing dove at Feng Xin’s side, turning him over.
“Are you alright?” he asked, then glanced up at Xie Lian where he perched on the Lady Wind Master statue’s shoulder. He gave a nod, and Xie Lian let out a sigh of relief.
“A show of good faith,” He Xuan said, flatly. “Not get off the statue.”
He pushed off with his toes, landing beside his friends on the ground. He bent down, gently checking on Feng Xin. He was fine, but his wrist was starting to swell where the chain had tightly bound him. “You’ll be fine,” Xie Lian said, after inspecting it for a moment. Then, he turned toward Black Water who floated down to land on the ground nearby. Ruoye suddenly flew out, barreling directly for the ghost king, who simply watched the silk scarf grow closer.
Three chains were summoned around him, barring Ruoye and flinging it back. They twisted and coiled around him, and He Xuan scowled. “Very nice, Your Highness. I thought Gods were the ones who liked to fight fair.”
“Did you fight fair when you impersonated the Earth Master?” Xie Lian asked, standing up and placing himself between He Xuan and his friends. “When you killed the Water Master? Abandoned the Wind Master in the Imperial City? I do not trust you, and I think you should understand why.”
“I was owed the blood that was spilled that day.” He Xuan’s eyes narrowed. “That is over now, though. And you have been following every footstep I’ve taken in the past week for no other reason than a flawed assumption. I have no strife with Shi- With the Wind Master.”
“Then why did you do all of this? How did you bring about his second ascension?”
“I had nothing to do with that. These temples…” He turned his head up toward the Lady Wind Master statue, lips twitching. “The Wind Master needs temples without that wretch of a brother included. I simply filled a need before the demand rose. I didn’t know if he would ascend again, but the potential was always there. After all, I didn’t switch our fates. He chose, a very deliberate choice, to remain a vagrant.”
“He was lame!”
“I gave him options!” He Xuan glared. “You have no idea what you’re stepping in, Your Highness.” The title was sneered, and He Xuan made it very clear that he didn’t hold an ounce of respect for any of them.
Xie Lian didn’t know what He Xuan was talking about. “You’ve been following him...for years, haven’t you? Probably since you abandoned him in the Imperial City.”
His eyes flickered with dread, then He Xuan nodded. “He doesn’t need to know about this.”
“What is your plan?” Mu Qing stood up, coming to stand next to Xie Lian, his hands clenched into fists. “You led us here for a reason. Why? What could you not have told us before? If you don’t want us to follow you, then why don’t you just admit-” Chains had worked their way across the floor, then wound suddenly around Mu Qing’s ankles. He was ripped off his feet, head banging down against the floor of the temple. Held upside down, blood dripped from his nose, and he struggled as more chains wrapped around his arms to keep them pinned to his body.
An arrow flew forward, and He Xuan caught it before it hit him directly in the chest. Squeezing, he snapped it in half, then threw it to the side. Feng Xin notched another arrow, but a chain whipped around his neck and pulled him back against the wall. He kicked his feet, face going red as he clawed at the chains.
“Stop this!” Xie Lian demanded, Ruoye ready to fly out again. However, He Xuan’s chains didn’t attack him.
“They attacked me first,” He Xuan said, boredly. He stepped forward and lifted Mu Qing’s saber from off the floor. He examined it for a moment, then flung out. It embedded in the floor a few feet away.
Xie Lian readied himself for a fight, but He Xuan didn’t move forward to attack him. Instead, he waved a hand, and Feng Xin was dropped from the wall before he could pass out, and he hacked into his hand as breath returned to him. Xie Lian weighed his options, glancing toward the saber a few feet away, then back to He Xuan. “If you want us to leave you alone, then leave the Wind Master alone.”
Before he could answer, the doors flew open, banging hard enough to crack the frame they sat in. He Xuan turned, his eyes widening just before a flash of light sailed through. A sword pierced his gut, sent him flying backwards, and pinned him to the wall. The red eye on the hilt spun madly, and He Xuan doubled over, coughing up a trail of blood. “Crimson Rain!” he shouted, through a mouthful of blood.
Stepping over the entryway, Hua Cheng smiled falsely as he walked into the temple. “Hello, Black Water.” The candles ignited again, brightness filling up the space and showing the hundreds of chains hanging against the walls and over the ceiling. They all seemed to recoil from the light. Even Mu Qing was dropped, the chains fleeing back to the corners. “I thought I told you very clearly, do what you will, but do not involve His Highness.”
“He involved himself,” He Xuan spat, then gripped the hilt of E’ming and drew it from his body and the wall behind. He dropped down, tossing the sword down at Hua Cheng’s feet.
Xie Lian rushed over, looking up at Hua Cheng. “How did you find me?” he asked.
“The Wind Master told me you were following Black Water, and he always comes back to Fu Gu around this time of year.” Hua Cheng glanced around the temple. “What is this, Black Water? Where did you get the money to do this?”
“Mortals are fools. They continued to give gold and jewels to their precious Water Master for months after he died. I only took what should have been mine in the first place.” He Xuan spat on the ground, then wiped the blood from his mouth.
“Technically, the Water Master ascended by his own merit. You should have taken Shi Qingxuan’s offerings,” Xie Lian said.
He Xuan glared at him.
Hua Cheng laughed. “And I’m sure the Water Tyrant would be pleased to know that you collected his offerings and used them to honor his little brother, who he loved so much. Really, Black Water, who’s side are you on here?”
With no answer for them, He Xuan spun his hand against the wall and drew a Distance Shortening Array against it with harsh, jerky movements. “Wait!” Xie Lian called, running forward, but Ship Sinking Black Water disappeared before his eyes. “Where is he going?” Xie Lian spun around and marched up to Hua Cheng.
He blinked. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because, you clearly know what’s going on!” Xie Lian didn’t mean to shout, and Hua Cheng took a step back in surprise.
Mu Qing and Feng Xin, kneeling on the ground a few feet away, glanced over at them nervously.
“Gege, I really don’t know…”
Xie Lian gripped at his sleeves, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. “Then why did you say you agreed to stay out of his way if he didn’t involve me?”
“That part is true,” Hua Cheng replied. “He came to the Paradise Manor, and I told him he could do whatever he liked to whoever he liked. I did ask him what his plan was, but I already told you that he didn’t tell me! Gege, do you not believe me?”
Xie Lian’s breath caught in his throat. Turning away, he went to check on his friends again. Feng Xin had dark marks on his neck, but he seemed to be fine. Mu Qing’s nose was broken, and a bruise was darkening around his right eye. Feng Xin reached out and grabbed his arm, shifting his eyes over toward Hua Cheng. Under his breath, he whispered, “Is Crimson Rain Sought Flower angry with you?”
Turning his head, he watched Hua Cheng bend down to pick up E’ming, sliding the curved blade back into its sheath. Then, he folded his hands behind his back and turned to walk to the doors of the temple, all without saying a word.
“And if he is?” Xie Lian asked, his voice unusually cool.
Neither of them said anything to that, exchanging looks, and Xie Lian stood up and helped Mu Qing to his feet. “We need to find out where Black Water is going to next,” he said, reaching a hand down to Feng Xin and hauling him up.
Xie Lian glanced down, watching as their hands lingered together for a moment longer than normal, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he flipped his sleeves out and stroked at Ruoye as he thought about their next move. “He’s going to cover his tracks better now. We first need to find the migrants Shi Qingxuan was traveling with. At this point, they can give more information than anyone else.”
“Do you think He Xuan lied when he said they were here in Fu Gu?” Mu Qing asked.
“I’m not sure. We should stay to look around, at least.” Xie Lian glanced out of the corner of his eye toward Hua Cheng, who simply stood in the doorway and looked outward at the sky.
“Black Water wasn’t lying!” Hua Cheng called back over his shoulder, and Xie Lian froze and looked away. “Neither was I…”
Nodding at the other two, Xie Lian led them to the doors to look out, and sure enough, they could see a group of beggars gathered across from the temple, holding out their hands to passing villagers. As he started to leave the temple to rush over and talk to them, Xie Lian was stopped by Feng Xin’s voice from behind him.
“Your Highness!”
“What?” He turned back around.
Feng Xin glanced up, fingers on his temple. “The Wind Master has been kidnapped from the Heavenly Realm.”