UPON THE SOUL-SUMMONING Platform of Rufeng Sect, Xu Shuanglin watched those flickering motes of golden light drift and fall like the paper he'd tossed into the flames that Lantern Festival night. Reduced instantly to ash, leaving only embers that scalded him across the chasm of time.
I wish for Luo Fenghua, Nangong Xu, and Nangong Liu to be friends forever.
But Nangong Xu was long gone. The man who stood here today was Xu Shuanglin. A madman, a demon, someone who'd crawled out of hell to slaughter all these righteous gentlemen. Nangong Xu no longer existed. He was like the willow fuzz of his namesake, Xu, floating alone amidst the vast heavens and the dark earth. Time's passage could crack the ridges of mountains, to say nothing of a tiny wisp of willow fluff.
So many years had passed. The willow tree had grown old, its splendor dimmed, and those drifting wisps had roamed so far. What they'd seen wasn't a beautiful world of flowers but one consumed by blood and hate.
Yet for some reason, he'd still passed on everything Luo Fenghua had taught him to Ye Wangxi. For some reason, whenever he ran into a truly kindhearted gentleman, he still restrained himself in compassion. For some reason…he was crying.
Xu Shuanglin knelt on the ground and howled his pain. Tears streamed down his gnarled and ruined cheeks; he clutched Luo Fenghua's spiritual core and finally descended into frenzied weeping, each sob as bloody as if he'd dug it from his throat.
"Shizun… Luo Fenghua…"
Had the plan he'd poured all his wits into, all his madness and hatred, all his twisted yearning—and all his life—had it been destroyed just like that?
He thought of his resentment after the Spiritual Mountain Competition, the hatred that led him to usurp the sect leader position after his father had given it to Nangong Liu. To this day he remembered his father's lined and bone-pale face, staring at him in disbelief.
"This position is mine," Xu Shuanglin had said, hands wrapped around his father's throat. He tightened his grip slowly, expression cold and vicious. A mad glint flashed in his eyes. "If Father doesn't want Rufeng Sect's decades of work to fall to ruin, the ring must go to me. You've gotten on in years; you can rest now."
"Xu-er…"
He closed his eyes and squeezed until he heard the chilling crack of his father's neck breaking.
Xu Shuanglin slid the Rufeng Sect Leader ring off his father's finger and pressed it to his lips. It was cold, but no colder than his skin. "All I wanted was justice. None of you gave it to me, so I took it for myself. Father, don't hate me in death."
He turned to leave.
Another scene from his memory: his first night as sect leader. The servants scrubbed the blood and grime from the paving stones; his father was dead, and Nangong Liu and his family were held in the water prison. All those who would stand against him were appropriately dealt with. Everything was over. For a moment, he was at a loss for what to do next. He set up a stove in the courtyard and brewed tea to sip leisurely.
He remained alone there, caressing that gleaming ring on his thumb. From today on, he was Rufeng Sect's leader. The fate of those who'd plotted against him at the Spiritual Mountain Competition was sealed—they'd be dismembered and killed as soon as he got the chance—but he didn't know what to do with his brother, nor with Luo Fenghua.
Night was falling, and the golden sun had dipped into the west. At last, Xu Shuanglin rose to visit the water prison and see his brother and shifu.
A few attendants trailed behind him on the path. As the last glow of sunlight was swallowed by the darkness, he shuddered. He was suddenly cold and dizzy.
"Sect Leader, what's wrong?"
Xu Shuanglin waved away the servant who'd rushed forward to offer a supporting arm. "It's nothing. I just thought of something I left undone. I'll head back to the hall alone. You may go."
Suppressing pain that was growing stronger by the minute, he put on his veiled hat and strode toward the great hall. But despite his efforts, at some point he could no longer bear it and ran the rest of the short distance, shoving the door open before slamming it shut behind him.
"Sect Leader?"
"Stand guard outside. Don't come in or do anything rash; if anything happens, alert me immediately."
After giving the guards his orders, Xu Shuanglin took a breath and staggered into the depths of the hall. He tore off his hat and looked down at his hand. The skin was cracked and covered in lesions. His first thought was that his father had cursed him, but he quickly dismissed it. The old man had been ill for ages and hadn't the strength to do any magic; how could he possibly pull off a curse like this without him knowing?
Then how? It hurt unbearably, like his sinews were snapping, his flesh twisting. He spasmed and shook by the window, knuckles white as he dug red scratches into his own flesh on the ground. It hurt so much.
He couldn't shout or call for healers. His position wasn't secure; as the leader of the coup, he couldn't show the slightest weakness. Within the great hall, Xu Shuanglin lay panting, moaning, rolling across the floor in shaking fits. In his thrashing, he accidentally yanked down the curtain, covering his body. It shielded him from the moonlight outside.
The pain suddenly faded. Bathed in cold sweat, he lay curled beneath the cloth and gasped for breath. After a moment, he thought the pain was over; he pushed the curtain aside and sat up in an attempt to stand.
But the touch of moonlight tore his skin and sent pain shooting through his nerves again. Only then did Xu Shuanglin put the pieces together. He clawed his way to his feet, desperately slamming the window shut as he retreated to the darkest corner of the hall.
Slowly, his breathing evened. The pain disappeared, and his dripping wounds healed before his eyes. Growing suspicious, Xu Shuanglin swathed himself in his hooded cloak, concealing every inch of skin, and ran to the library.
After hours of searching, he uncovered a record in his great-grandfather's trunk. Everyone knew the first sect leader of Rufeng had once fought that great fish, the gun. Though he'd managed to defeat the evil beast and imprison it within Golden Drum Tower, he'd fallen victim to the creature's curse.
The gun was yin by nature and linked to the cycles of darkness and the moon. Its curse afflicted all sect leaders of Rufeng with agonizing injury at the barest touch of moonlight. On top of that, every full moon—when yin energy was at its strongest—they'd endure the pain even if they hid in the darkest possible place. This had remained the Rufeng Sect's greatest secret for centuries. Generations of sect leaders had buried this knowledge deep, afraid their enemies would take advantage of it. Even their own sons were kept in the dark until the last possible moment.
What a joke. He'd done all this for a cursed position?
The next day, Xu Shuanglin went to the water prison. One cell held Nangong Liu and his wife Rong Yan, another Luo Fenghua. He first went to his brother's cell.
"A-Xu! A-Xu! What have you done? What have you done…" Nangong Liu babbled in agitation at the sight of him, but his limbs had been sealed with a spell and he couldn't move. All he could do was kneel on the ground and weep before his brother. "Have you gone mad? Is the position of sect leader worth going to these extremes?"
Xu Shuanglin was still wan from his night of torment. "I only took what should've been mine," he sneered.
Nangong Liu fell silent.
"You stole my sword forms and blackened my reputation. I was only twenty years old, Nangong Liu." He paused, eyes like ice. "I was only twenty, but you showed me the bitterness of life."
He strode forward, the hems of his robes brushing the ground, and looked down at his brother's face. "Nangong Liu, even wastrels like you dream of power and success, so why not someone like me?" He spoke each word deliberately. "I worked harder than you, I have more talent than you—I'm better than you in all respects, save for that silver tongue of yours."
He lifted Nangong Liu's chin and pried his mouth open. He stared at that pink and slimy organ. "You'd never think something like this could be such a deadly weapon. Let's cut it out."
Nangong Liu's eyes went round with terror, but his mouth was held open, and he could not speak. He could only whimper, spittle dribbling down his chin.
"No?" Xu Shuanglin chuckled. "That's fine, too. We were brothers after all. A quick death still counts as mercy on my end."
The instant he let go, Nangong Liu started bawling. "Don't kill me! Don't kill me! Was it just the Spiritual Mountain Competition? L-let me out and, and I'll tell the whole w-world the truth so you may have justice!"
"Too late." Xu Shuanglin produced a pristine handkerchief and wiped his hands. "Now they'll only think you speak from fear of me." He glanced down indifferently. "The stains you left on me will never wash away."
Before Nangong Liu could speak, a woman's knife-sharp voice cut through. "Nangong Xu! You had your grievances, but look what you've done! You've murdered your own father to take the sect leader ring, and now you want to murder your brother too—you… Can you really be so ruthless?"
"Ah, it's Rong-shijie." Xu Shuanglin smiled thinly. "If you hadn't spoken, I would've forgotten you were here."
The spell kept Rong Yan on her knees as well, but her expression was determined. The tears in her eyes would never be mistaken for vulnerability. "Truly, I was wrong about you back then."
"So what?" Xu Shuanglin grinned. "You're the one who gave me that brocade pouch, and you're the one who later married Nangong Liu. You started this, dear Sister-in-Law. How dare you bring up what was between us back then? You're not about to tell me you had no choice, that he forced you, are you?"
Rong Yan went pale. She looked as if she might say more, but she only bit her lip and slowly closed her eyes. Tears coursed down her cheeks.
When he raised his hand again, it held a knife, gleaming cold in the dark.
"No…no…A-Xu, we can talk about this… I'll agree to anything… Don't kill me, please, don't kill me…"
"Do you misunderstand your current position?" Xu Shuanglin polished the blade, that devilish smile still haunting the corners of his mouth. "Nangong Liu, I'm the sect leader now. You're a prisoner. You have no power, yet you're trying to negotiate with me? What do you propose to use as collateral—your shitty life?"
"I'll be your servant! I can…do anything for you, I—I'll do anything! I'll give you Rong-shijie if you want!"
Rong Yan's eyes snapped open. "Nangong Liu!" she shouted in fury.
Shaking like windblown chaff, Nangong Liu ignored his wife. "Anything, if you spare me…" he whimpered at his brother. "Please, spare me…"
"As if." Xu Shuanglin lazily patted his cheek with the knife's handle. "Do you think I'd want a tangerine you've already licked?"
"Then I can—I can—" Nangong Liu tried his best, but he stuttered to a stop. All that flowed freely were his tears and snot. Finally, he wailed, "A-Xu, we said, we said we'd share all our sweets and climb up on the roof together… We've cultivated together, we celebrated the Lantern Festival with Shizun. We learned to play the qin… H-have you forgotten?"
Xu Shuanglin's expression darkened, but he only curled his lip in response. Lifting the blade, he struck.
"Ah!"
"Wait!"
The blade stilled inches from Nangong Liu's neck. Even Xu Shuanglin didn't know whether it would've gone all the way without their shouts. But his expression remained unchanged. "What now?" he asked idly. "You two sure have a lot of last words."