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Lightning flashes across the sky, arching against the clouds like scars on otherwise smooth skin. Standing on the cliff, overlooking the villages, Jiang Cheng should be afraid, especially when thunder rumbles soon after. Instead, he is invigorated by the electricity in the air, can feel it tingling in his fingers, like the power is begging to be harnessed.
Behind him, he hears soft shuffling, and turns to find a figure cloaked in red, his face hidden in the shadows of the drawn hood. Compared to Jiang Cheng’s white robes, the newcomer’s clothes stand out in sharp contrast. Another bolt of lightning fractures the sky, and in the blinding light, the cloak looks like blood.
But Jiang Cheng only stares on impassively, undeterred. For all the other person liked to feign mystery, he knows exactly who he is. Jiang Cheng is the one who summoned him, after all.
“Crown Prince Jiang,” the figure purrs, low and velvety in his throat. “I can help you seek your revenge.”
“What’s the price?”
“You.”
~
If this had been Jiang Cheng from a month ago, he wouldn’t have even considered stooping to the level of his enemies, of contacting evil spirits for help. But much can change in a month, and when someone has exhausted all paths with none other to take, they will be forced to make unexpected decisions.
As the kingdom of Qishan had grown stronger, so had their sense of superiority. In recent years, they have begun encroaching onto the territories of nearby kingdoms heedless of borders, though their disputes have mostly been with Qinghe. Yet, it had seemed as if the royal family had gone mad, believing themselves to be as omniscient as their family crest—the suggested.
Rather than providing warmth and giving life, the Wen family had taken on the worst qualities of the sun, ruling with all the oppression of midday heat, making it difficult to breathe for everyone. The final straw had been the invitation for each kingdom to send forth their best scholars, soldiers, and even heirs to be “educated” in a thinly veiled threat. Obviously, those people would be taken as hostages so that Qishan has political leverage to continue on their tyrannous rampage, but just like the great hero of old, the other kingdoms had responded to the excessive sun in kind.
Yet, somehow, even with the alliances of the four great kingdoms—Lanling, Qinghe, Gusu, and Yunmeng—Qishan hadn’t seemed threatened. Instead, they only seemed to increase in power after the official declaration of war, signalling the launch of the Sunshot Campaign.
Countless battles had clashed all along kingdom borders in order to drive out the invaders, but fights that seemed to be in favour of the allied kingdoms would suddenly turn in favour of Qishan, almost like a supernatural force had been at work. More suspicious still is Qishan’s second prince Wen Chao and his personal bodyguard with a mysterious background, who leaves nothing but destruction in his wake. The bodies that piled up on the battlefields had increased day after day, circled by crows whose cries sounded like the wailing of the wronged dead.
There was obviously an external power at work; no way can Qishan be winning with such conviction otherwise. Still, Jiang Cheng has always trusted in the righteous path. With the combined forces of the four kingdoms, they would wear down Qishan eventually. The victory would be theirs in the long run.
It’s funny how quickly beliefs can shatter, sometimes, crumbling with the fall of a kingdom in a single night.
The king of Yunmeng had been away on a diplomatic mission to Lanling when the Qishan soldiers struck, led by their second prince with a flimsy accusation.
“To harbour ill-fated intentions? A child? Wen Ruohan must have no better use for his time, to concern himself with a common children’s game in Yunmeng,” Jiang Cheng’s mother, Queen Yu, had sneered coldly.
The second prince had clenched his fist with gritted teeth. “How dare you disrespect my father so! He is the King of Qishan!”
Queen Yu had scoffed. “Disrespect? Then what of the actions of his troops in my kingdom? Do not forget who violated the terms of the agreement first. I will show him due respect when he acts as a king, and not as a dictator.”
Needless to say, her words had set the tension in the room alight, and King Jiang had returned to the sights of flames consuming the royal palace.
In hindsight, Jiang Cheng wonders if there had been a way to placate the prince and keep the kingdom at the same time, but such musings cannot bring back the souls of the dead. The moment Wen Zhuliu had made his presence apparent, Jiang Cheng had known the battle was lost.
With the destruction of the palace, Wen Chao had claimed the Lotus Throne, and Jiang Cheng and his personal servant had been forced to escape.
They had rushed to Gusu over several nights, not daring to sleep for too long. The newly crowned King Lan had taken them in graciously, but the kingdom wasn’t in position to help, not when they were so recently invaded themselves. But Jiang Cheng had burned with the desire for revenge; he had seen the bodies of his parents as they were hung outside castle walls like common criminals, thoroughly disgraced. He would stop at nothing to avenge his family and his people, to reclaim the Lotus Throne.
…But with what army? Most of his soldiers had perished at the hands of Qishan or scattered, hard-pressed to preserve their own lives, and he and Wei Wuxian had been heavily injured in the attack.
The problem had plagued him for days as he paced in the palace’s guest bedroom listlessly, twisting his mother’s heirloom ring in contemplation. A dark thought had crept up from the recesses of his mind, speaking of bedtime stories made to scare children into obedience and whispering rumours of old legends. Slowly, a plan had formed in his head.
He had spent the next few days in Gusu’s extensive library in the palace, studying folklore and rituals and history books. Next, he had checked the calendar for auspicious dates, all the while keeping an eye out on the weather. It would be another couple of days until the sky darkened with the promise of rain—of a storm—shadowy clouds covering the sun that had beat down ceaselessly for the past months.
Most would regard summer lightning storms as a bad omen, the possibility of flooding a threat to the growing crops. However, Jiang Cheng had viewed it as an opportunity for the best solution. At this point, the only solution.
Leaving Wei Wuxian in the care of Gusu’s second prince, who seemed to have taken a liking to his servant against all odds, Jiang Cheng had gotten his hands on white monk robes and had planned his leave. In the middle of the day, the palace was busier than ever, with servants and scribes and even officials rushing to complete as many tasks as possible, in order to adhere to the royal family’s strange curfew. Taking advantage of the distractions, Jiang Cheng had slipped out of the palace.
In a different kingdom, perhaps his white robes would stand out, but the Kingdom of Gusu was largely Buddhist as a nod to its founder’s background. With his hood turned up to cover his unshaven head, no one had spared him a second glance as he had made his way up a nearby, abandoned mountain. After spending most of his day hiking, he had arrived at the peak, selecting a high cliff to be as close to the sky as possible.
Once the location had been selected, Jiang Cheng had drawn the array he had carefully copied from ancient tomes, spilling black ink over his robes in his concentration to lay the designs onto the packed dirt. He had paid it no mind; they would be further stained, soon. With his task completed, Jiang Cheng had stood in front of the array, looking down at the peaceful villages below, and waited for the storm to arrive.
~
The entity he summoned approaches him, producing a small knife from his sleeve and holding its handle towards Jiang Cheng with measured actions. Jiang Cheng accepts the knife with a steady hand, positioning its sharp blade towards his wrist.
He had thought he would be nervous, facing someone with immeasurable power, who has committed unspeakable deeds to achieve that power. Perhaps he would be fearful, wary, or even awed; instead, a sense of calm washes over him. Jiang Cheng brings the knife down without hesitation. This isn’t the point of no return—the point of no return had been the moment the Wens had stormed Yunmeng’s palace, demanding them pay for their misconduct with the life of a child.
Warm blood trickles down his arm, mixing with the heavy summer rain. The stranger smiles with all the amusement of a snake, lifting the clean cut to his lips. He laps over it slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the taste. With a final swipe of his tongue, he moves away with some reluctance. The cut is already healing.
The exchange completed and the ritual sealed, the cloaked man finally removes his hood, revealing a delicate face with intelligent eyes and faint dimples. Had he appeared in the middle of a palace court with finer clothes in broad daylight, Jiang Cheng could have easily mistaken him for a courtesan. Under the pouring rain and lit only by lightning strikes, however, even his smile looks sinister.
The stranger sinks down to one knee smoothly, bowing his head in deference, though his teasing tone is anything but.
“General Meng Yao, at the service of His Highness Jiang Wanyin, Crown Prince of Yunmeng.”