Chapter Text
He had tried really hard, to get free from the restrictions Yan Wushi had put on him, but the closed acupoints wouldn't budge. He was sheltered from the outside world, but for how long? How long will it take for the unwanted guests to find him, and if he can't get free by that time, he is in very big trouble.
Shen Qiao isn't weak, luckily. As Yan Shou was looking around, the statue immediately captured his vision. With just one strike, it was crushed into pieces and a person jumped right at his throat within it. His throat was missed, but his hand was not. It fell right off, and he let out a painful screech. One was out from the fight. Now it was just two juniors, with their other senior. The fight kept going for some time, but Yan Shou with his lost hand wasn't of much use, and he was the strongest of them. Very soon they realized that their only way to survive is to retreat. So now they were waiting - to see who makes the next move.
He promised that he will get revenge for his arm, and he wasn't too subtle about it. Neither was Shen Qiao. Shen Qiao was not joking around, not today. He was after a life, to revenge the two he lost that day.
Shen Qiao saw red. He was never good at expressing himself, his feelings, or his needs. He always wanted good for others, most of the time not prioritizing his own well-being. This time he has been through so much, too much for him to handle any longer. With no one to talk to, to tell his worries or just sit with. He has lost the people closest to him, some by death, some by betrayal. Life had not given him much mercy. Of course, it had not always been like this. Even though being without parents and adopted by his master, he was loved and cared for. He had many brothers and sisters that he grew up with. But now some of them are called just strangers.
His most recent trauma has haunted him every second. He was not letting the men whose fault it was just get away.
He saw red. It was red from that damned day.
He saw red. It was the red from today, from the men who were responsible.
He pulled himself together as fast as he had lost himself for a second. It had felt like days. He accidentally stumbled a step back, which all of the four noticed. But to his demise, Xiao Se was the only one who made a move. He was just three steps away from stabbing Shen Qiao right into his abdomen. Before he could be two steps away, he dropped dead onto the ground. His throat was slit so fast that it took a few seconds before the three alive understood what had just happened.
Yan Shou was terrified now, and so were the other two. Inside, Bai Rong knew, if they all were to die today, she has the highest chance of survival, she never really cared much for the other three anyways, but she had to act like she did. She knew Shen Qiao`s temper and morals, and he had always said, that he has respect for her. But even now, she wasn't so sure of her survival, she had problems recognizing Shen Qiao at the current moment. It's like he was taken over by something. He was staggering just a little while trying to stand straight, his gaze now visually slicing Yan Shou.
And then he charged - so fast that if anyone in this world could have stopped him, it might have been either Qi Fengge or Yan Wushi. The sword that pierced Yan Shou was pulled out and right there sliced the other elder's throat too. It was just Bai Rong herself now. Having two just killed bodies in front of her, made her worry grow.
Shen Qiao was looking at the dead bodies lying on the ground. He was panting, he has exceeded his limit by a lot now, and if he can't get a good rest after this, he will suffer some real consequences. His eyes were gazing around, and then he noticed Bai Rong. The girl was just standing there, ready to fight if needed. He saw the fear in her eyes.
He said just a word: "Go...", and Bai Rong was gone in a flash, just giving a glance before completely disappearing.
Claiming his composure, he felt a strange pain in his abdomen. When did this happen, he had no idea, but there was a dagger. His adrenaline was wearing off, which made things much clearer but also more painful. He was glancing down at the dagger, he was still a little confused, everything not making complete sense yet. The blood had already started dripping down, and the grass underneath had a few red spots. He used his sword as a support, to stand up.
His hands were trembling.
Why?
He wasn't sure.
All he knew was that he was hurt and had to do something.
He was struggling to walk, he tried to go through the forest, somewhere he might not be found, and the first thought was that same cave they had been to before. It was too far. He could stay here, but if people come looking for the three dead men, they will leave with four, his own being the fourth.
It started to get a little blurry in front of his eyes, blood kept dripping even between his fingers, which tried to keep it from bleeding.
He just started going, to where, he had no idea, just away from here. He picked the woods and just dragged himself somewhere. For how long, he didn't know, but it had already gotten dark outside. It was chilly, even for him, or maybe just for him? The dagger was still there, had he pulled it out, he would be dead already. It had done more damage while he was walking, cutting the wound little by little, making it bigger. It had also gotten deeper when Shen Qiao stumbled on the uneven forest landscape and fell. It dragged a cry out of him. He was getting paler, feeling colder, staggering more, and seeing even blurrier, things dragging in front of his eyes, his eyes not being able to keep up.
Maybe this time luck was on his side, because the moon, as bright as it had ever been, was lighting the dark forest quite well. He kept going, slowly and with difficulty, but he was moving.
Then the forest seemed to come to a halt. There seemed to be something, a pond. The deers that were there, after hearing Shen Qiao, ran away. It was quiet, but beautiful, that much he could see and sense. He got near the water, kneeled with a grunt, and got himself a few gulps of water. It was refreshing, it was good.
Now that he had something to clean his wound with, he pulled himself together, as much as there was to pull, and put his hand on the hilt of the dagger. He took a few deep breaths and pulled.
It dropped to the ground with a quiet clatter. Shen Qiao fell to his knees, his hands holding the wound, and his upper body was nearly supported by his thighs. He was in pain; normal people would describe it as agony. He dragged himself a bit closer to the water, opened his clothes, and finally had a look at the wound. It was not good. It was a little too red to his liking. He started cleaning the wound with water, his clothes all getting soaked with bloody water. The wound was cleaned soon after, but for some reason, it won't stop bleeding. He pulled a cleaner piece of his robes and made a plug of it. Getting the dagger out of himself had been agonizing, now putting something back inside wasn't going to be any easier. With some mental preparation and deep breaths, he clenched his teeth and shoved it where the dagger had been.
That was the most horrifying shriek Shen Qiao had ever let out. He was panting, cold sweat covering him and tears falling. He put some more cloth over the wound and then his hand for some security. He wobbled up, sword still his best companion to keep him standing. There was a rock big enough for him to find some support from it. He went over there and got onto the ground. He leaned his back against the stone and let out a shaky sight.
His clothes were a mess, big chunks of it missing, most of his upper body was uncovered and the rest that was clothed was either dirty or soaked with bloody water.
It got harder to breathe; one moment he felt so cold and the next he wanted to soak his burning body in that same pond. But now it was just cold. His hand barely stayed on the cloth, that was keeping him from completely bleeding out. His already pale skin was just white now and his vision vas pretty much faded. He slumped to the side a bit, trying to straighten back up, but with no real result. He slumped more and fell to his side.
"It's cold... hurt..."
His last thought was somewhat happy: "You may rest in peace now, I took revenge...."
His eyes taking in the first rays of the morning sun was the last thing he saw before he was taken by the darkness.
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“Don’t be sad, don’t be angry, if life deceives you. Submit to your grief. Your time for joy will come, believe me.” —Alekandr Sergeyevick Pushkin