A/N: All rights to the original content are reserved by the respective copyright owner.
Chapter Image Source: Pixiv Artist "Kirbo" / Pixiv Art Code: 111875324
EDIT: Revised the chapter.
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Within the sprawling expanse of the Xianzhou Alliance, a constellation of civilizations and ships stitched together by the fragile silk of politics and power, factions surged and receded with the inevitability of celestial tides, while allegiances morphed as readily as the shapes of clouds in a high wind. It was here, amid this elaborate dance of dominion and deceit, that Jingliu, the esteemed leader of the High-Cloud Quintet, sought truths that would dwarf even their fabled adventures.
The central assembly of the Alliance thrummed with a vitality that mirrored the complex political heartbeats of Xianzhou Luofu. Jingliu, her eyes dark as the space that held the constellations mirrored on her vessel's canopy, wove through a tapestry of hushed schemes and murmured secrets. A clandestine society, the Aeon Envoys, whispered their unyielding devotion to the cryptic Aeon Yaoshi and, if rumors held true, they possessed the elusive key to unraveling the Mara curse now claiming their ally, Y/N.
With each step mired in caution and intrigue, Jingliu's pursuit took her deeper into the Luofu's political labyrinth, a realm where adversaries vied for dominance and truth was a coveted jewel shrouded by opulence and subterfuge.
As the political terra shifted perilously at the Alliance's epicenter, the council of faction leaders convened to decree a destiny-altering proclamation—one that would send ripples through their universe's very fabric.
A tense prelude to the council's declaration sent a palpable quiver of expectancy and disquiet through the assembly. The divulgence of their champion's plight loomed, a storm cloud promising turbulence in its wake.
In the quietude preceding the announcement, a surreptitious exchange unfolded between two councilors:
"Do the Aeon Envoys haunt your thoughts as well?" Councilor Xian murmured, the lines of his experience marred by concern.
Councilor Wei, his equal in sagacity, inclined her head subtly. "Indeed, rumors abound. If their knowledge could unveil the cure for the Mara curse, it might well alter the fabric of our existence."
Xian's voice dwindled to a mere wisp of sound. "And Y/N... To witness his decline is to watch a star fade from our sky."
Wei's visage echoed his somberness. "We must proceed with care. The council's choice will cast long shadows. Hope, fragile as it is, must guide us."
Amidst the muted tension, Jingliu confided to Dan Heng, her tone laced with a bitter mirth, "These political theatrics—they do have a penchant for spectacle, do they not?"
Dan Heng's reply gleamed with tacit recognition. "True, yet beneath their florid orations lie buried truths we must unearth."
As the room braced for revelation, Jingliu's thoughts were a whirlwind of interlacing conundrums—the Aeon Envoys, the curse's enigma, and Y/N's destiny—a nexus of secrecy and authority waiting to unfurl its dark tapestry.
—POV Change—
While Jingliu navigated the murky waters of politics, Baiheng and Jing Yuan, once lauded as heroes, found themselves ensnared in a different kind of conflict—one where power, influence, and monumental choices echoed through eternity.
Jing Yuan, now embroiled in the world of political chess, reminisced about days spent with Y/N, their once mentor and brother-at-arms. The memory of a lesson in arms brought a faint smile to his face, a smile born of nostalgia and the slight absurdity of a child attempting to master a greatsword under Y/N's earnest tutelage.
With a nostalgic chuckle, Jing Yuan mused aloud, "To think Y/N believed I could wield a greatsword. I was but a child, barely able to hoist the blade."
The sound of Baiheng's laughter drew his gaze, her eyes alight with shared humor. "Y/N always aspired to be theatrical. I can envisage it now—you, dwarfed by that sword, emulating his stance with such earnest effort."
The unexpected echo of laughter in a time so fraught was a momentary balm, a flash of camaraderie in the shadowy corridors of power.
In their shared reflections of Y/N, the mentor who had instilled in them unshakable belief, lay a potent reminder of their purpose: to uphold the legacy of the man who had sacrificed his existence for the cosmos.
—Timeskip—
Whispers wound through the streets of Luofu like creeping vines, each one ensnaring the once-glorious name of Y/N, the steadfast warrior now beset by an insidious affliction. Y/N's curse—a malignant blight upon the land—sowed a virulent fear among the people. Where his might once brought peace, now his shadow cast despair, transforming lush fields into lifeless dirt and sickening the once vibrant life around him.
Despite the legend of his valor, a chilling dread had seized the Luofu. The dark miasma of the curse seeped into the very soil, a grim harbinger of famine that gnawed at the edges of reality.
The hushed reports that came from the afflicted regions spoke of soil turned foul, a black sludge that seemed to echo Y/N's plight, sealing the bond between his downfall and their suffering.
In the council's hallowed chambers, where the fate of Y/N weighed heavy, Councilor Huan's voice rang with a conviction that cut through the silence. "We owe them the truth," he urged, the timbre of his voice resolute. "Y/N was their bulwark, their protector. They must know this burden he now bears."
Yet Councilor Mei, ever the voice of caution, her forehead etched with lines of concern, held back. "Think of the chaos," she whispered, her words almost a plea. "This curse is a taint not just on Y/N, but all he touches. The public panic could be catastrophic."
Their debate raged like a storm until Councilor Xian, with his fabled impartiality, tilted the scales toward truth. "Let the truth shine," he intoned, "to steer us through shadowed waters."
The council's edict echoed through Xianzhou, shattering the silence like a bell's toll. Y/N's secret, the hero once enshrined in their hearts, now stood exposed, a bitter pill of fear and doubt swallowed by all.
Opinions, ever mercurial, turned. Y/N, once Xianzhou's champion, was now its outcast, his name synonymous with dread. And so the High-Cloud Quintet, erstwhile beacons of hope, bore the brunt of this scorn.
Amidst this upheaval, Jingliu and Dan Heng stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces masks of dismay. The council's pronouncement loomed over them, a cloud that refused to break.
"These council members," Jingliu murmured, a lilt of despair in her hushed tone, "they do not see the sacrifices made for our cosmos."
Dan Heng's eyes met hers, brimming with shared pain. "Harsh though it may be," he whispered back, "our support for Y/N will not waver. We know the true measure of his heart."
Their quiet solidarity was a beacon in the rising storm of whispers and fearful glances that filled the room.
-Timeskip-
After the declaration of Y/N's passing and the nature of his curse, a complex tapestry of gratitude and envy unfurled across Xianzhou. Respectful vigils were marred by hushed, venomous envy.
As Jingliu walked among the throngs, she caught the poisoned barbs of gossip.
"Y/N, a hero? Nah, just thirsty for glory."
"Look what his curse did—our harvests, our life's work, gone to ruin."
Her patience fraying, Jingliu stepped in, her voice cold and sharp as winter ice. "Enough! Respect the sacrifices of the fallen."
Yet some continued, their words dripping with malice:
"Trouble followed him like a shadow."
"He's the reason for our misery. Why should we suffer for his curse?"
Jingliu's temper flared, her aura suddenly a tangible, frosty threat. "Speak ill of Y/N again, and you'll rue it," she growled, her eyes dark pools of warning.
A shocked stillness fell, the crowd's whispers fading into silent dread. But the tumult of Jingliu's emotions swirled uncontrollably; her tears became shards of ice, and she fled, overwhelmed by her storm of grief and rage.
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Baiheng's heart thudded with urgency, fear painting her thoughts as she sought Jingliu. The sight of her fleeing the public's cruel judgments had struck a nerve. Baiheng hurried to Jingliu's quarters, driven by a need to comfort.
She entered to find Jingliu amid chaos, her voice a low torrent of fury. Baiheng moved closer, her words a soothing balm. "Jingliu, you're not alone in this sorrow."
At the sight of Baiheng, Jingliu's tempestuous facade faltered. "They spit on his legacy," she rasped, her voice taut with indignation. "Y/N gave his all for Luofu."
"I know," Baiheng acknowledged softly, her eyes a mirror of Jingliu's pain. "We weather this as one. He'd want us to remain steadfast."
Tears broke through Jingliu's fierce exterior. "His name... being soiled... it's unbearable."
Baiheng stepped in, her embrace a fortress against the tempest. "Then together, we'll clear his name, seek out the truth," she affirmed.
Jingliu's resolve crumbled into sobs, and in that embrace, they found a shared strength. Together, they would defend Y/N's honor, upholding the truth against a tide of slander.
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Amidst the chaos and emotional turmoil that permeated the halls of the Xianzhou, Ying Xing found himself adrift in the currents of a haunting memory, one that clung to his psyche with the tenacity of a shadow. It was a recollection of Y/N, his comrade and friend, now ensnared by the Mara curse's malevolent tendrils. Ying Xing's mind replayed the harrowing incident when, in one of the curse's vicious fits, Y/N had turned on him, his blade carrying a betrayal sharper than its edge, inflicting a wound that oozed an ominous black miasma.
The Artisan's voice, a mournful echo of his fractured spirit, broke the silence, "Y/N, my friend..." His words trailed off into a breath, the pain evident in the slump of his shoulders, "In that moment, I glimpsed the abyss that now claims you—the relentless grip of the curse, the anguish, the suffocating darkness that threatened to obliterate the very essence of your being."
The air around him seemed to quiver with the burden of his words as Ying Xing relived that excruciating memory. The scars that lacerated his body, remnants of the curse's venomous touch, pulsed as if resonating with a life of their own. With each heartbeat, they seemed to reawaken the raw agony of the past—a corporeal testament to the indelible scars that the cursed Y/N had wrought, not only upon flesh but upon the fabric of their fellowship.
Ying Xing's gaze lost focus, and his voice, now a hoarse whisper, carried the weight of unshed tears, "How I've yearned for the solace of forgetting, yet the curse mocks us all, for even in reprieve, the specter of its ruin lingers."
In the midst of the unfolding power plays and strategic gambits that consumed the Xianzhou Alliance, Ying Xing's private battle with the ghosts of bygone betrayals laid bare the stark reality: the curse had carved its legacy deep into the heart of their existence. The wounds Y/N had left behind were not merely physical; they were chasms of loss and despair that had yet to find the grace of healing.
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A/N: Though short, it was a struggle writing the political interactions within the council, albeit it looked simple reading back the passages.
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