--There's a flashback in this chapter, once again marked by these <><><>.--
Closest to the two, Feng Xin looked at Xie Lian with unconcealed shock, his mind still processing what he just heard. Mu Qing, beside him had glowing eyes and his shock hidden a layer of excitement.
Shi QingXuan spoke before anyone else could take the floor: «QianQiu, did you misunderstand something? If His Highness was the Guoshi FangXin, how would you not recognize him until now?».
Aside from that fact that it was known FangXin was the Guoshi of Yong'An, it was also a fact that Lang QianQiu had been his disciple. Sure, he didn't see Xie Lian often, but to the point of not recognizing his own master?
«Legends say the Guoshi FangXin was proud, mysterious, and cold. He'd always worn a white-gold mask, having never shown his real face to anyone. His Highness Tai Hua probably never saw his real looks».
Pei Ming shot a look at Xie Lian, at the death grip Lang QianQiu had on his wrist, and at the mixture of expression on both their faces. He didn't want to make it sound like His Highness Xian Le was the Guoshi, but judging from the look he received from Shi QingXuan, he surely thought as much.
Whatever. He didn't speak against Xie Lian anyway.
A fight was threatening to start once again, so Jun Wu decided it was time for him to interfere. He stood up, a snow-white silhouette towering the hall, and everyone immediately calmed down. The chattering officials all stood in their place, silencing their gossip, and bowed.
Jun Wu accepted the respect, then raised his hand slightly and everyone straightened once more.
With his hands behind his back, he sat back down on the throne: «Please, tell me. Why is Tai Hua convinced of Xian Le's guilt?».
Lang QianQiu glanced at Xie Lian. Seeing that he was still stubbornly silent, he released his hand and turned to the Emperor in a bow: «My Lord, many hundred years ago this man altered his name to FangXin, slaughtered my clan, and brought ruin to my kingdom», he explained, voice trembling only slightly. «I request a duel, and pray the lord will be our judge».
Within the Great Martial Hall there were still many who had never heard of the name FangXin, despite the ruckus caused by the Crown Prince accusing Xie Lian of being that same Guoshi. Luckily for them, Ling Wen was present to answer everyone's query, even if she was a bit hesitant in doing so: «The Guoshi FangXin was the savior and teacher of the Crown Prince of Yong'An, Lang QianQiu. He was named one of the Two Wicked Masters because of the infamous bloodbath that washed the Gilded Banquet of the Yong'An monarchy», she said, telling a story that many already knew but few still needed.
«On the night of the seventeenth birthday of the Crown Prince, the palace threw a Gilded Banquet in celebration. That Guoshi FangXin...».
Ling Wen hesitated again, looking at Xie Lian out of the corner of her eyes. He still had his head bowed. For a flashing moments, the butterfly of his headpiece seemed to move. She stared at it, but nothing happened anymore.
Clearing her throat, the civil god continued: «In the feast the Guoshi, with one sword in hand, slaughtered every member of the royal family in attendance. Golden goblets toppled and blood spilled like wine. Only the Crown Prince escaped because of his late arrival to the feast, or he too would have been annihilated».
The bloodbath had been a huge blow to the foundation of Yong'An, and if it wasn't for Lang QianQiu's hard work and good heart, a riot would have surely exploded. The chaos was settled with great difficulty, and soon after the Guoshi was captured, following a bounty released to pursue him.
Lang QianQiu killed the evil Guoshi with his own hands, stabbed through his heart with a wooden dowel, and sealed the corpse within a triple-layered coffin before burying it deep underground.
The decline, however, didn't stop. With the monarchy ruined at its roots, and the kingdom too damaged to recover, it was finally overtaken by a different clan.
As soon as she was done with the story, Lang QianQiu glared at Xie Lian: «I never understood why you did that. You said you couldn't stand seeing us on the throne, but I didn't believe it. I believed in you, I never thought you wanted to overthrow the monarchy. Now I know why».
After all, why would someone like Xie Lian, who was described as a foolish and gentle man, marry the feared Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the bane of the heavens?
They had to be wicked, both of them.
Otherwise, what could Lang QianQiu believe?
«This is revenge!».
«What else could it be? The kingdom of XianLe had fallen because of him, so he ruined Yong'An too! Yong'an killed his royal parents, so he murdered the royal parents of Tai Hua. An eye for an eye, pure vengeance!».
«But this rage was unreasonable, the ones who wiped out XianLe weren't of Lang QianQiu's generation...».
«And here I thought the laughingstock of the Three Realms was a fool, but he's actually quite aggressive. No wonder he married Crimson Rain, they have the same blood on their hands. Incredible...».
Xie Lian closed his eyes, trying not to laugh in everyone's face.
Killed by Yong'An? His parents died because of that wretched Bai WuXiang, suffocated to death by their own volition, using the same exact silk band Xie Lian was wearing around his arm. The same silk band he tried to use to hang himself, the same one he dirtied with his own blood and was now called RuoYe.
The entire war that led to XianLe's demise was Bai WuXiang's fault! He didn't have anything left to hate of Yong'An, when he became Guoshi, nothing! He was just there, trying not to be overcome by his own sorrow while staying in the same kingdom he once almost wiped out, trying to teach someone how to be better than him.
The bloodbath wasn't his fault, never had been!
For so many years he blamed himself, accepted the guilt, let the golden blood of that day seep from his hands into his soul, but he wasn't the murderer. They were already dead when he arrived. The king was on his last breaths, heaving in pain with blood filling his lungs.
The prime organizers were An Le and Qi Rong, that damned cousin of his! He didn't do anything, didn't deserve all that hate!
He tried so hard to stop putting the blame on himself, Hua Cheng helped him through that insane amount of self-gaslighting, but what could he do now? Everyone had their eyes on him, he could even feel Jun Wu's cold stare on his face.
No one was going to believe him, he knew that. No one ever believed him. He was someone to laugh at, someone who couldn't be trusted, that brought misfortune and disaster wherever he went. What could his word do, against the one of someone actually loved by the heavens?
«Tai Hua, you firmly believe Xian Le to the FangXin, but do you have proof?».
Lang QianQiu nodded at the Emperor: «The Guoshi FangXin was the one who taught me swordsmanship, how can I not recognize him the moment he strikes?».
The gossiping all around poured in like tidal waves, and many didn't think his statement enough of a proof. Understandably. So, the Crown Prince pointed at the black sword hanging on Xie Lian's hip. The fact that his hand was madly shaking with anger, fright and disbelief was another matter entirely.
«If you can't believe my word, believe your eyes. That sword is none other than Fang Xin itself», he said.
Hearing that, Xie Lian stiffened, and his hand went to the hilt. An admission of guilt, if the prince had ever seen one. His heart was stricken by guilt, and so had to be the one that beat in his old attendants' chest. Feng Xin and Mu Qing weren't martial gods he was familiar with, aside from knowing about their constant quarreling and fighting, but he saw their pupils shrink, the color slowly draining from their faces.
Many other officials took a step back, in horror.
Some asked Ling Wen for a confirmation, asked if Fang Xin had ever been described in those bloodied stories. Lang QianQiu watched his old Guoshi take a shaky breath when the civil god described Fang Xin was dark and smooth like a black mirror of jade, an extremely sharp blade with a grain pattern that reflected the light into a silver line. The steel was every bit as dangerous and icy as the coldest winter night, a thick and frigid aura surrounded it.
A perfect description of the weapon they all had under their eyes.
«Take your Fang Xin and fight against me. We'll duel now without holding back, using everything we've got, and see whether I was taught by you».
A reckless act, he knew it. But he couldn't help his agitation, his anger, his confusion. He needed to fight, needed to know, to be sure, to have something, anything that could explain why his family had to be slaughtered in cold blood.
Xie Lian wanted to laugh again. Or cry. He wasn't sure. Maybe both were a better idea.
He didn't know why he kept coming back to that sword, to those memories, to the misfortune that lived within it. Maybe it was his own blood on it, maybe it was the fact that he almost used it to wipe out Yong'An with the Human Face Disease, maybe it was because he simply didn't want to let go of it fearing it could hurt innocent people again.
He couldn't fight against Lang QianQiu with everything he had. A fight like that would kill him. A fight like that would bring even more innocent blood on his hands. He still remembered the fire, the blood, the screaming, when he wore the White Clothed Calamity appearance.
Xie Lian wasn't a bad person. He tried, and the world kept throwing his attempts back at him. He tried so hard, tried so have so much faith, to the point that his faith in humanity came back to him just because of a small, kind gesture. No one listened to him.
No one ever did.
«QianQiu, His Highness blocked the full force of that attack from Hua Cheng for you», Shi QingXuan interjected, vividly remembering the reverberating spiritual power that overwhelmed him and He Xuan when they ran to the armory. «Why would he save you, if he was that evil?».
Instead of giving up, Lang QianQiu suddenly extended his left palm and smacked heavily upon his right arm. The was a loud, horrible crack, and a mist of blood spurted out from his entire arm, that was now bleeding profusely and fell limply. There wasn't any need for anyone to check to understand that it was a heavy injury, and everyone was shocked. Was that kid completely mad?!
Taken aback by the violent gesture, Xie Lian raised his eyes: «What are you doing!?».
«Lord Wind Master was right, you did save me. I doubt your arm didn't suffer from that blow, and so I return the gesture to you», Lang QianQiu said, still righteous. «But saving me is one thing, killing my clan is another. You can use a sword with either arm without lessening your skill, so we'll duel with our left. Pick up the sword».
Xie Lian looked at Fang Xin, then back at him, and shook his head slowly: «I've sworn many years ago to never kill with this sword again». He made sure not to add the word "innocents" to his statement. He couldn't assure Fang Xin wouldn't kill again, if necessity asked. He could only make sure to never raise it against an innocent person again, no matter how dire the situation should be.
He would rather pierce his own abdomen again with the blade, rather than use it to harm someone who had no guilt.
The god could almost see in Lang QianQiu's eyes the memory of that night, the scene of the black-robed man pulling out a longsword from the dead bodies of his father. They were reddened with madness, bloodshot from anger. The sword in his left hand emitted a cracking sound from the grip.
«Xian Le».
Everyone turned their gaze to the jaded throne, while Xie Lian bowed in response to Jun Wu calling him.
«Do you concede to Tai Hua's accusations? The Guoshi FangXi who spilled blood upon the Gilded Banquet... was it you?».
Many years ago, Xie Lian would have conceded. He would have raised his head, filled with determination, and admitted with a frosty tone a guilt that had never been his.
But...
He wasn't a bad person. He felt betrayed, broken, devastated, but he couldn't throw away all his progress. If not for himself, then for Hua Cheng, who stayed by his side and held his hand, soothed him with a hand on the small of his back, kissed many years of tears away.
Realizing he was still gripping the handle of Fang Xin, Xie Lian released his grasp and let his hand fall limp to his side, the red string on his finger a memento of why he couldn't accept his old ways again.
His other hand twitched, wanting to fiddle with the ring around his neck, as he often did when he felt too anxious, but stopped in its tracks; he couldn't let so many officials see that ring, he had no way to know if someone of them would recognize the jewel as what it actually was.
He took a deep breath, raised his head, and shook his head: «I will not deny that I was, in fact, the Guoshi FangXin. I was taken in by the royal court of Yong'An, and I was the one who taught Lang QianQiu what he knows now», he began. Murmurs started spreading again behind him, but Jun Wu hushed them with a wave of his hand. «But I was not the culprit of the bloodbath of the Gilded Banquet».
«What nonsense, I saw you kill my father! I recognized Fang Xin!», Lang QianQiu yelled, gripping his sword even harder. He saw red, and lunged forward without realizing it, without wanting to do so. His anger spoke for him before he could settle his body.
The Emperor raise a hand to stop the attack, but something else reacted first. A flash of spiritual power washed over the hall, and a mere moment later Lang QianQiu was on the ground, uninjured – save for his arm – but disarmed.
His sword rested at Xie Lian's feet. With a single silver butterfly fluttering its wings on the hilt.
A shiver of pure fright went through all the heavenly officials in the hall, someone even unsheathed their sword in fear. Jun Wu settled them down with a thorough stare, gentle but authoritative.
«Tai Hua, rein in your aggression», he scolded the young martial god, although his tone was more like the one of a father who tried to teach what was right to his child. «Listen to what he has to say, before--- Everyone sit down, immediately!».
The change of pace in his voice startled everyone enough to avoid any kind of accidental confrontation. Not even a second after the officials in the Great Martial Hall sat back down in their seats, the doors of the hall slammed open.
Framed by them, was a furious Ghost King.
<><><><><>
It was a bloodied mess.
Once a breathtaking place, a profusion of rich colors, hundreds of shuddering candle flames, heavy wooden tables decorated with many golden incisions, the dining hall of the palace was nothing but an ocean of blood.
Food was strewn all around, the plates and bowls still on the table filled with delicacies no one would taste, gold and silver glimmering faintly under the light of few burning candles. Many were toppled over, cooled wax pooling under them, mixing with wasted prosperity.
Chairs were thrown haphazardly, where people tried to jump up and run away, there were goblets and dishes all over the room.
A storm seemed to have passed over, strong winds blowing everything away, suffocating and deadly. A storm that spilled blood. So much blood that the floor was covered in it, slick and slippery with viscous red. it dripped lazily from the corners table, where corpses rested as if asleep, painted fingers, hands, faces, drenches rich robes that were once colorful.
The wine spilling from fallen goblets mixed with the blood, its delicate and fragrant scent drowned in a staggering smell of rust, iron and death.
It was supposed to be a Gilded Banquet, but the shimmering gold was not but a memory, under an ocean of dark blood.
Deep black robes trailed behind Xie Lian as he dazedly made his way through the hall. Where once was music and cheerful chatter, there was now nothing but dreadful silence, save for the pattering of blood as it dripped in red pools. His footsteps were just squelching noises, boots walking in rivers of blood instead of stepping on polished jade.
He didn't appear in time to stop the massacre. The slaughter, even.
The nobles sitting around that table were innocent people, their generations too far from the ones who brought despair over XianLe. They were too young to remember the stories about a man donned in funeral robes coming to destroy them. Too young to be at fault.
But there they were, corpses spilling blood, some killed still in their seats, some sprawled on the floor. Their robes were ripped were blades wounded, cold steel making its way through fabric, flesh and life. they had no weapons on them.
The Gilded Banquet was supposed to be a celebration, not an occasion to be armed.
They couldn't defend themselves.
Xie Lian gripped the handle of Fang Xin so hard his hand protested the abuse, but he didn't care. What was pain, if not something he was already used to? A memento of the life still beating inside his ribcage, nothing more.
The queen lay in her high chair, so decorated and precious it looked more like a throne, and one could say she was simply resting if it weren't for the blood dripping from her slightly agape mouth, and the precise slit drawing a line on her throat. Murdered, just like that, without having time to even react. The screaming subsided so soon that Xie Lian couldn't scold himself for not appearing sooner.
A cough, sudden and unexpected, broke the heavy silence of the hall. Xie Lian's head snapped in the direction of the sound, just beside the queen, his eyes widened behind the white gold mask.
Hunched over on himself, sitting on another exquisite chair, the king barely raised his head. Still alive...!
Xie Lian ran over and kneeled beside him, assessing the damage. Blood was filling his lungs, judging by the open wound on his chest, and more spilled from his lips as he tried to move and seize his Guoshi's wrist. The look in his eyes was of pure madness, pupil reduced to nothing but a sliver of black.
Seeing that, it didn't come to a surprise that his painfully spoken words were to massacre all people of XianLe descent, not leaving out anyone, not even the children.
Always a XianLe sympathizer, it was understandable for him to feel betrayed, at a loss. All around him was the murder scenery of mad XianLe supporters that wanted to exact a violent revenge, that wanted to forcible take the throne and rebuilt XianLe without the Yong'An royal family in the way.
But a king should never turn his anger on the common people. A king, even in tragedy, should understand what needed to be done.
Xie Lian shook his head in protest, and the king became even more insistent, sputtering blood on his mask as he yelled – or tried to yell – at him that he had to kill them all, to purge the world of XianLe once and for all.
No one deserved to live, in his eyes. Not even the innocents. Not even those who had nothing do to with the coup.
All the nobles in that dining hall were wrongfully killed innocents, Xie Lian realized, save for the king. That same king who welcomed him, offered him the honor of being Guoshi, the same king that never spoke ill of XianLe.
The decision was made before Xie Lian could realize it himself.
With a sharp tug, he yanked his wrist away from the king's grasp and raised Fang Xin. The king was already wounded, on the verge of death. Even a less skilled swordsman could finish the job in one, clean movement.
Fang Xin sank into his body with ease, a blade so sharp it had no problems making its way through trembling flesh, robbing the ungrateful king of his life.
Before he could pull his sword out, footsteps echoed behind him and abruptly came to a stop.
Then, a voice came to his ears. It was confused, scared, angry, disbelieving, all at once. Slowly, Xie Lian pulled Fang Xin out of the kings body, a blood spurting out as he did so, and turned around the see Lang QianQiu watch with an horrified expression the scene surrounding him, taking in all the blood, the death, the slaughter.
He could see the wrong understanding making its way through his eyes.
Instead of acting against it, Xie Lian simply took advantage of the shock the young prince was in, walked beside him and left, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind. Only much later he heard the sorrowful scream coming out of his lungs, the orders to find and kill the Guoshi, the grief over deaths that weren't supposed to happen.
Xie Lian fled before giving anyone time to catch him.
Although, he didn't flee for a long time.
The bloodbath of the Gilded Banquet had a culprit behind it, and he had every intention to find it. He was alone, once again had to be on the lookout against people wanting to spill his blood – though, this time it was much easier to slither away from their grasp, as it wasn't a lunatic ghost – but he couldn't stop and hide until those who pursued him simply withered away in old age.
It took him too long.
When he finally confronted An Le and discovered his identity, a faithful friend for Lang QianQiu nothing more than a horrendous façade in order to get close to Yong'An, he listened in horror as he explained the plan of the XianLe rebels, a plan to overturn the kingdom of Yong'An and rebuild XianLe from its ruins.
The madness of An Le walked side by side with his cruelty, his thirst for blood; Xie Lian saw through the glass screen he put up, knew that those poor people who finally assimilated into Yong'An after years of discrimination would suffer for his blind ambition, knew that no one but his rebels were allowed to keep living on that bloodstained soil.
It wasn't difficult, killing him.
He used a sword reverberation that liquefied his organs, made it look like An Le died from a disease. He couldn't let Lang QianQiu know of that betrayal.
That poor, young prince did nothing to deserve all that pain.
Xie Lian claimed responsibility for the Yong'An massacre.
When Lang QianQiu caught him, his face still covered by a white gold mask now stained with blood, he didn't fight.
He could have.
Fang Xin was deadly enough in his hand that their fight could have ended soon after starting.
He let Lang QianQiu ride his anger, use it to claim revenge, if only to let his heart be at rest. The sharp, burning pain of the wooden stake piercing through his beating heart made Xie Lian shed tears of agony, yet his voice refused to come out in a scream.
Fang Xin slipped from his fingers as Xie Lian was stabbed right into a coffin. His last thoughts, before the lid of the coffin closed on his masked face, were of hope.
Hope that Fang Xin would never kill an innocent person again.
Hope that Lang QianQiu would find peace, now that he buried his Guoshi six feet underground.
Hope that the world would be a kinder place a handful of decades in the future.
Xie Lian refused to leave the coffin for almost a century. When he finally broke out, black robes in tatters and mask cracked in the middle, FangXin was only a new painful memory that would haunt his nightmares for long years to come.
Just a handful of years later, so few that they could be counted on the fingers of a single hand, he met a red-clad ghost on a wobbly ox cart ride.
<><><><><>
Saying that Hua Cheng was furious was an understatement.
Spirals of dark spiritual energy coiled around his feet, rising higher and higher as his blazing eye scanned the Great Martial Hall, freezing and burning all at once and instilling fear in the heart of those pitiful, pathetic, wretched officials. A swarm of silver butterflies flew all around him, many darting back and forth in threatening flashes, shimmering and glowing with the flow of his petrifying anger.
E-Ming wanted blood, madly vibrating with bloodthirsty desire, shaking against the harsh confined of its sheathe as the ghost made his way through the hall.
Useless, despicable, powerless, all of them.
What heavenly official showed a terror-stricken face in front of a ghost? What godly being stepped back in blood-curling panic, instead of grabbing a sword and lunge forward?
And they had the guts of grouping up against his beloved.
Hua Cheng scoffed, basked in the frightened reaction it caused, and walked to Xie Lian's side with a calm pace that did nothing to mask the seething rage hiding beneath the surface. He was just like a teacup, now, filled to the brim and ready to overflow; one wrong word of action, and the entire hall would end up in rubble.
No one dared make a sound.
Gently, Hua Cheng raised a hand to Xie Lian's shoulder and immediately the god leaned onto him. It was the weakness brought to him by sheer desperation, one that forced him to breathe heavily and shake when everything became too much.
His determination was still there, still flowing under his skin like a warm light, but one touch had been enough to make his spirit crumble. One touch, and a single tear spilled from his eyes, dull and empty instead of bright and golden. Hua Cheng wanted to believe those moments were forgotten, moments were Xie Lian lost himself in his past, unable to yank himself away from memories drenched in blood and anguish, but maybe sending him alone to deal with the truth of FangXin had been too much. Letting him face Lang QianQiu head on with the latter being so angered and blinded had been too much.
Those days haunted him almost as much as the ones spent under the paranoia-inducing period caused by Bai WuXiang.
He still woke up from those nightmares, although it was fortunately a rare occurrence, still woke up with a hand clutching at his chest right above the heart and the other raised before him, as if trying to push away the lid of a coffin, eyes glazed over and dark before coming to his senses and back into the reddish light of their bedroom.
Uncaring of the crowd watching, Xie Lian moved and hid his face in the crook of Hua Cheng's neck. The fact that he did such a thing while being aware of the time and place around him was the telltale of how gone he was in his own mind.
Hua Cheng's anger flared up even more at that, burning with the force of a thousand fires. The hand that wasn't running down his beloved's back gripped the handle of E-Ming to the point of pain. If it wasn't for Xie Lian's desire to keep everything peaceful, the ghost would have already burned the heavens to ash and blown those in the wind.
It took a while for his beloved to come back. Gradually, in a martial hall filled with heavy silence, those beautiful golden eyes lost the glassy void that trapped them, light shining behind them and filling them with life. He straightened his back, now calm, and the ghost softened his gaze in relief.
But only for a second.
When he stopped looking at Xie Lian to glare at the officials all around, his eye was already harder than stone, eliciting more shudders and flinches.
Let that make those bastards understand their place.
Finding it the right moment to finally speak, his tone tranquil, Jun Wu warned everyone in the hall to stay put with a glance and focused his attention on the intruder: «What is the meaning of this intrusion, Crimson Rain Sought Flower? Do you have something to say?».
His eye immediately shot upwards, where the Emperor sat on a jaded throne: «Tell me first, Jun Wu, why is my husband so ill-judged by you crowd of cowards», was the jabbing reply. Xie Lian shook his head, a movement barely visible, yet Hua Cheng scoffed: «I have something to say, yes. Specifically to this spoiled kid that doesn't know how to stay down».
«Who are you calling spoiled kid?!».
Enraged, Lang QianQiu tried to get up and beat the ghost senseless, but the swarm of butterflies rushed around him and forced him down with so much eagerness the floor around him cracked.
«If you move again, I'll tell them to consume your worthless flesh bit by bit until there's nothing left of you but a pile of bones», Hua Cheng threatened him.
He hated that bag of rotten intentions, would gladly crush his head beneath his foot like an insect. The only reason he didn't kill him just like he cancelled from existence those thirty-three officials was the fact that he had been taught what he knew by Xie Lian himself. To kill him so soon would be a waste of His Highness' effort.
If that hadn't been the case, Lang QianQiu would already be nothing but a corpse rotting away underground, his immortality stripped from him like a barbed arrow yanked away from a wound.
«You would dare kill an official right under my watch?».
The Ghost King turned to face Jun Wu again and flashed a grin: «Why not? You know only disrespect, after all. Your only talent is jump to conclusions. If someone asked me to jump from your ego to your intelligence, my body would be smashed to pieces by the length of the fall».
That, apparently, was enough to shut even the Emperor up. A low mumbling rose from the officials in the hall, quickly shushed by a wave of Jun Wu's hand, and even though the ghost was far from finished he didn't add anything else for the sake of his beloved.
Instead, he looked at Lang QianQiu again and scowled: «If I tell you who was actually the culprit behind the Gilded Banquet bloodbath, you will never believe me. But, since you all love to shame my husband and kick him into the mud for no fucking reason, I'll say it anyway. And you better listen».
From there, he launched into a summarized but exhaustive account about the events that led to the Gilded Banquet bloodbath, from An Le's infidelity to the alliance he made with Qi Rong – yes, that Qi Rong! Soothing Xie Lian with a hand rubbing his back when the story got too personal for him, Hua Cheng explained how the coup was orchestrated by An Le and Qi Rong together, to have Yong'An fall in order to rebuild XianLe from its wrecked ruins. He also made sure to point out how only a handful of rebels actually wanted war and bloodshed, as violent revenge for the downfall of a lost kingdom.
When he arrived to the part of the story that hurt Xie Lian the most, Hua Cheng looked at him, rather than at anyone else: «His Highness killed only a single person, that day. Someone that was already mortally wounded thanks to the rebels, and that ordered the complete extermination of the XianLe citizens, from culprits to innocents, sparing not even the children».
«The king wasn't... my father wanted to have peace with XianLe», Lang QianQiu weakle protested, overwhelmed by the amount of new and devastating information he was receiving. An Le being a traitor? The massacre not falling on the shoulders of who claimed to be at fault?
And now, his father being a cold-hearted murderer?
He couldn't believe it.
Xie Lian took a deep breath and carefully turned to look at him, his heart still pounding madly in his chest: «Your father felt betrayed by XianLe. I took the blame because I thought... I thought that in doing so I could save those innocent people that had nothing to do with the bloodbath. If I let the king live and followed his orders, what would have happened to them? What would have happened to the last memory of my kingdom?».
He felt tears of frustration well in his eyes, but batted them away with a flutter of eyelids: «You had no hope of winning against me, yet you won the fight. Did you never ask yourself why I decided to lose?».
Stunned, Lang QianQiu needed a second for realization to sink in.
If Xie Lian was lying, if he indeed killed everyone, why didn't he kill him as well? If he wanted the kingdom of XianLe to flourish again, why leave the Crown Prince of Yong'An alive? Why attack before his presence at the Gilded Banquet?
It he was the cause of the bloodbath, why could Lang QianQiu kill him? Xie Lian was far more powerful than him, far more skilled, and far more deadly. He could snap his sword in half and pierce Fang Xin through his chest in a blink, if he so wanted. Lang QianQiu saw him fight. Learned how to fight from his very hand.
Why did he win?
«Did you... was your decision to lose caused by the fact that you killed my father?».
«I never wanted to kill him. He was a good person, he genuinely wanted Yong'An and XianLe to coexist peacefully. But that one betrayal made him a ruthless man that desired to kill innocent people. And you never, never turn on innocent people, especially if you're a king».
Xie Lian knew that lesson all too well. After all, didn't he turn against innocent people, when Bai WuXiang got the upper hand on his emotions? Didn't he trap the cluster of hatred, fear and pain in Fang Xin, and was willing to unleash it over common villagers who had done nothing wrong in their life?
He knew what that kind of hatred led to. He couldn't make it happen again.
«Go find Qi Rong and ask him, if you don't believe me».
Then, he turned to Jun Wu: «Xian Le has a presumptuous request», he spoke up.
«What is it?».
«I humbly ask the Lord to remove my godhood and banish me to the mortal realm», Xie Lian said. At his side, Hua Cheng stiffened, but luckily didn't say anything.
Lang QianQiu, on the other hand, objected: «Banishment? I don't need you to banish yourself. Ascension happens because you have the skills to obtain it. Duel with me and I'll consider this settled».
Again with the duel. Did Lang QianQiu listen to what had been said before, or was he stubbornly staying with both feet planted on his idea?
Xie Lian breathed harshly through his nose and shook his head: «I already told you. I don't want to fight you».
«Why?», the Crown Prince shouted, though he looked a bit ridiculous, pinned down as he was by a swarm of butterflies. «The outcome doesn't matter. Let's just put an end to this!».
«Go find Qi Rong, instead of asking for a duel. If you fight me, you will die».
And the words weren't an understatement, even if lightly said. Xie Lian may be known for the flower, but he ascended because of the sword. He wasn't a lowly, powerless rubbish god with no hope to hold his ground against the Martial God of the East.
Banishment was a better solution. He ignored Lang QianQiu again, and reiterated his request to Jun Wu.
The reiteration didn't cause an uproar only because Crimson Rain was still very much present, and no one wanted to anger him. Sighing, the Emperor snapped his fingers to gain the attention of the two in front of him – catching Hua Cheng's as well – and shook his head like a disappointed parent.
When he spoke his voice wasn't particularly loud, but very serene and filled with tranquility: «Tai Hua, your actions have always been impulsive. When situation arise, one mustn't be rash». Lang QianQiu lowered his head to heed the lesson, and Jun Wu continued: «Xian Le and Hua Cheng gave us the full story, and judging by the current state of things, I have no reason to believe it false. Thus, Xian Le's request for banishment is denied».
The conclusion managed to bring back some sounds in the Great Martial Hall, but the Emperor wasn't finished: «I kindly ask Hua Cheng to call his wraith butterflies back, and to please step aside to let Tai Hua and Xian Le have their duel».
A collective gasp came from the officials crowed in the hall, and Xie Lian himself looked at the Emperor with his mouth hanging wide open: «My Lord-!».
Jun Wu raised a hand: «Your duel will not be to the death», he interrupted him, ignoring the heated stare he got from the ghost as he did so. «However, if Tai Hua wants to settle this with a fight, I will grant a fight before ordering him to go and find Qi Rong».
«But, my Lord! A fight should be to the death, I do not care of the outcome!».
«If you do not care for the outcome, then you shouldn't be asking for a fight to the death».
The Emperor shifted in his seat, feeling the stress of trying to rein in the absurd situation he was dealing with, and sent him a cold stare: «Why are you still asking for a duel, Tai Hua? I cannot imagine your reasons now could be the same, after hearing the full story».
They weren't the same, no.
Initially, Lang QianQiu wanted the duel because he genuinely thought Xie Lian was the man behind the slaughter, wanted to exact revenge or at least die in the process. Now, though... now he wanted to really make sure Xie Lian died out of his own wish, when they fought centuries prior. Because if Xie Lian was skilled enough to defeat him, than he could believe the fault lied elsewhere.
An Le being a traitor was still a difficult notion to swallow, but if Xie Lian defeated him...
He would have had no reason to spare his life, back then. Truth be told, Lang QianQiu only saw him pull out Fang Xin from the corpse of his father. Everyone else was already dead, and there were no other people in sight, so it made sense for him to believe Xie Lian was the culprit.
But the more he thought about it, the more he believed the real story.
Xie Lian didn't have spiritual power, when he was Guoshi FangXin. If he had, Lang QianQiu would have surely been fascinated by it. As skilled as he was, the Gilded Banquet had a guest count that exceeded the hundred; without spiritual power aiding him, how could Xie Lian kill an entire room filled with people without said people screaming for help or running for their life?
One person alone could only go so far without the aid of spiritual energy. Fang Xin in his hand or not, Xie Lian couldn't have possibly killed everyone and pass it over in silence.
Moreover, when he found him, the room was a complete mess of blood, yet his robes were only the slightest bit dirty. Skilled or not, had he killed all those people and walked in an ocean of blood, his appearance wouldn't have been so put together.
If he worked together with those rebels, he would have killed Lang QianQiu as well.
Too much, it was too much to process with so many eyes focused on him.
«I want to make sure His Highness is not exaggerating his words, and could kill me if he so wanted», he found himself answering, finally relieving the curiosity of the Emperor.
«Then, I see no reason for this fight to be to the death. If he can beat you, he can also kill you. Xian Le, I hope you will not turn this down».
Before giving as answer to his Lord, the god turned to look at Hua Cheng and nodded towards the butterflies. With a roll of his eye, the ghost called them back and they all melded into his bracers, as delicate as they appeared.
Then, seeing no other way out, he told Hua Cheng to stand back, looked at Lang QianQiu, and gave his approval by kicking the longsword back to his owner. The prince stood up, grabbed the sword with his left, and watched as Xie Lian did the same with Fang Xin.
The moment Hua Cheng stepped away from him, Lang QianQiu lunged forward, body surging with spiritual power. One moment later, the prince was on the floor, disarmed once again and with the blade of Fang Xin pointed straight at his neck.
«I told you», he said, looking at him from above, the stunned silence heavier than anything else. «You would have died».