Several minutes ticked by in silence.
She began squirming, as if preparing for another round of vomiting Jiang Lang was ready with the bowl.
He had made her ill; he owed her anything she desired.
He opened his mouth and let the tale of his life spill from him. "Here is a story for you.
I am immortal, and I've walked the earth since the beginning of time, it seems."
As he spoke, he felt her muscles loosen their vise-grip on her bones. "Immortal," she echoed as if tasting the word. "I knew you were more than human."
"I was never a human. I was created a warrior, meant to guard the king of gods. For many years, I served him well, helping to keep him in power, protecting him even from his own family.
But he did not think me strong enough to guard his most precious possession, a box formed from the bones of the dead goddess of oppression.
No, he commanded a woman to do it. She was known as the greatest female warrior, true, but my pride was stung." Thankfully, Xu Ling remained relaxed. "Thinking to prove a mistake had been made, I helped release the demons inside the km box upon the world. And in punishment, I was bonded to one."
He wound his arm around her waist and gently rubbed her stomach, hoping the action would soothe her.
She expelled a slight breath. Of relief? He hoped. "Demon. I suspected."
Yes, she had. He still didn't understand why she admitted it so readily.
"But you're good. Sometimes," she added. "Is that why your face changes?"
"Yes." She thought him good?
Filled with pleasure, he continued his story.
"I knew the moment I had been breached, for there was a shock inside me, as if parts of me were dying, making room for something else, something stronger than myself."
It had been the first time he had ever understood the concept of death - and little had he known just how intimately he would soon come to understand it.
Another delicate sigh escaped her mouth.
If she actually understood what he was saying now, he couldn't tell. At least she wasn't crying, wasn't writhing in pain.
"For a while, I lost touch with my own will and the demon had total control of me, forcing me to do - " All manner of evils, he mentally finished, visions of blood and death, smoke and ash and utter desolation filling his mind.
He could barely tolerate the knowledge himself and would not taint Xu Ling with it.
To the very second, he recalled how the spirit's hold on him loosened, like a dream-haze clearing, the black smoke in his mind wafting away in a sweetly scented morning breeze, leaving behind only its hated memory.
The demon had compelled him to kill Pandora, the guardian it hated above all else.
Bloodlust at last appeased, it had receded to the back of Jiang Lang's mind, leaving Jiang Lang to deal with the damage.
"Gods, to go back," he said on a sigh. "To walk away from that box."
"Box," Xu Ling said, startling him. "Demons... I've heard something about that." She opened her mouth to say more, then jerked.
Crying out, she reached blindly for the bowl.
Jiang Lang moved faster than he ever had before, leaping from the bed and swiping the bowl in seconds.
The moment he held it out, she leaned over and retched.
He cocooned her against his stomach through the worst of it, cooing to her like he'd never done to another person before.
Giving comfort was new to him, and he prayed he did it correctly.
He'd never even comforted his friends. They were all as private about their torment as he was.
When Xu Ling finished vomiting, he settled her back on the mattress and once more cleaned her face.
Then he turned his gaze to the ceiling. "I am sorry for the way I spoke of you," he whispered to the heavens. "But please do not harm her for my sins."
Peering back down at her, he felt as if an eternity had passed since he'd first met her, as if he'd known her forever and she had always been a part of his life.
A life that would collapse into nothingness if she were taken from him.
How was that possible? Only an hour before, he had convinced himself that he might be able to slay her.
Now...
"Let her live," he found himself adding, "and I'll do anything you want."
Anything? a quiet voice asked, relish in the undertones.
Not the voice of Violence, he realized, or any voice he had heard before.
Jiang Lang blinked, stilled. A moment passed before his shock settled into mere confusion. "Who's there?"
Startled by his outburst, Xu Ling dragged her red-rimmed eyes to him. "I am," she croaked.
"Pay no attention to me, beauty. Sleep," he said softly.
Who do you think I am, warrior? Can you not guess who has the power to speak to you thus?
Another shocked moment passed before the answer took root.
Could it be? A... Heavenly god? He had sent pleas to the heavenly gods for years, and never had he been addressed within seconds.
He'd never been addressed at all. And hadn't the heavenly courtiers called Yan Lie to the heavens like this, with only a voice?
Hope - and dread - unfurled inside him.
If these the heavenly gods were benevolent, if they would help, Jiang Lang thought perhaps he would do anything.
If they were malicious, however, and made things worse... His hands clenched.
They'd ordered Yan Lie to kill four innocent women; they could not be good.
Damn this! How should he now interact with this being? Humbly? Or would that be seen as weakness?
Anything? the voice insisted.
There was a disembodied laugh.
Think carefully before you answer, and know that your woman could very well die.
Jiang Lang glanced at Xu Ling's trembling body, her pain-contorted features, and remembered the way she'd been.
The way she'd looked at him with ecstasy and asked him to savor the silence with her. The way she'd stood in front of him and thanked him for food.
The way she'd leapt to guard him from his own friends.
Until then - now - no one had needed him.
That she did brought a heady rush and deepened his awareness of her.
I cannot let her suffer like this, he thought.
He would have to take a chance on the heavenly gods.
Whatever they truly wanted from the warriors here, whatever their purpose, and whether or not they were indeed using the Hunters and Xu Ling to punish him for his lack of respect, he would take a chance.
He suppressed a curse, suspecting he was going to suffer as he'd never suffered before. But that didn't change his answer. "Anything."
Bai Long was panting as he raced toward Luo Chen's room. He had lost a lot of blood these past few days. More so than usual. But then, the need for pain, that terrible, beautiful pain, had ridden him harder than ever lately.
He did not know why and could not stop it. He could no longer control it, really. The last few days, he had stopped trying. What the spirit of Pain wanted, the spirit of Pain received.
Now, with every day that passed, he lost a little more of his desire to control it.
A part of him wanted to embrace it, to finally lose himself.
To experience the numb nothingness every flicker of suffering brought.
That was not the way it had always been.
For a time, he had learned to live with the demon, to coexist somewhat peacefully. Now...
He rounded a corner, mottled shards of light seeping through the side window and blurring his vision.
He didn't slow.
He'd never seen Jiang Lang so torn and frightened.
So vulnerable. And over a human, a stranger. Bait.
Bai Long did not like it, but he counted Jiang Lang as a friend and would help in whatever way he could.
He would help even though he desperately wanted things back to normal, where Jiang Lang raged and died at night, then acted as if he hadn't a care the next morning. Because when Jiang Lang pretended that everything was all right, it was easier for Bai Long to pretend, too.
Those thoughts skidded to a halt as Luo Chen came into view.
He was seated on the floor, knees bent and head resting in his upraised hands. His halo of dark hair was in spikes, as if he'd tangled his fingers through it too many times to count. He appeared dejected, pushed past his limits. Bai Long swallowed a hard lump.
If the situation could rock the normally stoic Luo Chen...
The closer he came, the more the scent of roses thickened the air. Death always smelled like flowers, poor bastard. "Luo Chen," he called.
Luo Chen gave no reaction.
"Luo Chen."
Again, no response.
Bai Long reached him, leaned down and cupped his shoulder, then gave a shake. Nothing. He crouched and waved a hand in front of the warrior's eyes. Nothing. Luo Chen's gaze was vacant, his mouth immobile. Understanding dawned. Rather than physically leaving the fortress as he usually did, flashing from one location to another in seconds, Luo Chen had left spiritually.
That was something he rarely did, because it left his body vulnerable to attack. Most likely he'd wanted something, even an unresponsive form, guarding his bedroom door while he was out collecting souls.
I'm on my own, then. Only one thing left to try.
Standing, Bai Long gripped the doorknob to his friend's room, unlocked it and burst inside.
All four women were seated on the bed, heads bent together, whispering, but they lapsed into silence the moment they spotted him. Each of them gasped.