Chapter Text
Quan Yizhen leaned his cheek against the bed, watching the figure lying there. It was an unnatural quiet from the usually brash and active young man, and those who knew the martial god would also understand the cause. As a child, there had only been one person who could get Yizhen to sit still. And now, that same person was the reason for his unusual gloom.
Yizhen’s fingers were curled around Yin Yu’s wrist, feeding him spiritual energy through the contact. Yet despite his efforts, Yin Yu was as pale and unmoving as the day Quan Yizhen had brought him back to his palace and set him up in a guest room.
The moment things settled after the battle against Jun Wu, Yizhen had gone in search of Xie Lian. He found Xie Lian alone in the ruins, looking rather lost.
Crimson Rain had disappeared into the wind. Xie Lian had tried to help him, nevertheless, but their progress was stunted.
“San Lang would be able to help you better than me.” Xie Lian’s brow had been creased as he said this, his voice soft and sad as it always was when he talked about Crimson Rain in those days.
Quan Yizhen understood. He felt sad with Shixiong gone too.
So Yizhen waited, and when Crimson Rain did return, he obediently stopped adding gold bars to the shrine’s donation box so that Crimson Rain would teach him the soul nurturing technique.
Yizhen’s free hand touched the handheld lantern that he went nowhere without these days, which held Yin Yu’s detached cursed shackle and the rest of his soul. He had been carrying it around for long enough that his mortal followers were starting to pick up on the addition, the newer paintings having the lantern integrated into them. That in itself spoke volumes of the time that had passed.
“Shixiong, when will you wake up…”
Yin Yu gradually grew aware of his surroundings, shadows receding from his clouded mind. He felt formless, unable to get a grasp on his physical body. There were voices speaking over his head, but it was too much effort to focus on them at the moment. His thoughts felt hazy, like he had woken from a long sleep. Just what had happened before this?
From his limited range of vision, he could tell that he was in some kind of enclosed structure. The bars were too far apart to be a cage, and he could spy some intricate patterns when he peeked out. Despite the limited space, it somehow felt comforting, rather than claustrophobic.
A familiar cadence drew his attention to one particular voice. Casting his gaze upwards, he could see the wild curls of his shidi’s brown hair within his sights. “Yizhen?” he called out.
But when normally he would be all over Yin Yu just by Yin Yu being nearby, the younger god didn’t react. It seemed like Yizhen couldn’t hear him.
Something was terribly wrong about Yin Yu’s current situation.
Just… what…
The space he was in shifted, changing Yin Yu’s point of view. In his new line of sight was a bed. Even before he properly took in what he was seeing, a chill ran through Yin Yu. And it was clear a moment later, because on that bed, swathed in a barrier of spiritual energy, was…
In a flash, it came back to Yin Yu. The Heavenly Capital, the battle, and… Jun Wu.
Yin Yu remembered the feeling of brilliant power coursing through his meridians, sparking at his fingertips. The tantalizing moment when he had more spiritual energy than he ever had. The same spiritual energy washed over him now, but it wasn’t emitting from within this time. Yizhen was channeling energy to him at a steady rate. Yin Yu could feel the energy seeping between the shattered pieces of his soul, as if gluing them back together.
By all rights, he should have died. He had expected to have died.
Yet he was being held together by some miracle and the sheer willpower of a person who Yin Yu still could not properly interpret his feelings about. When Jun Wu had taken away Yizhen’s spiritual energy and given it to Yin Yu, Yizhen had looked at him with confusion but no fear, like he couldn’t comprehend a situation where Yin Yu would betray him. Well, he hadn’t been wrong. After all, in the end, Yin Yu had died while protecting Yizhen – except he hadn’t, had he?
Despite the steady stream of energy, Yin Yu felt a bone-deep tiredness overtake him. Rather than thinking more about Yizhen, Yin Yu let it pull him back into the darkness.
Quan Yizhen sat in front of the table in the Puji Shrine. Across him, Xie Lian smiled encouragingly. Sitting next to the former prince, Crimson Rain had on a bored expression, but his eyes were sharp when they flicked over to Yizhen.
Crimson Rain gestured towards Yizhen, or more specifically, the object cradled between his palms. “Hand that over.”
Yizhen glared back suspiciously, cradling the lantern closer to his chest.
Xie Lian quickly intervened to defuse the tension. “Qiying-dianxia, San Lang just wants to check on Yin Yu-dianxia. He’ll return him to you in a little bit.”
At Xie Lian reassurance, Yizhen reluctantly handed over the lantern that held his shixiong’s soul.
Crimson Rain frowned as he ran his hands over the top of the lantern. “I can clearly feel the brat’s energy here, a lot of it too. But there’s still something blocking the proper flow.”
“Could it be because of the cursed shackle?” Xie Lian mused. “We know that suppressing spiritual energy is definitely one of its functions, and we needed a huge amount of energy to break mine.”
A pained expression crossed his face, chased away by Crimson Rain closing his hand over his. That action had caused Crimson Rain to disappear for a whole year.
“So I need to give Shixiong more energy?” Yizhen could do that. Brute force was something he knew, something he understood. He would give Yin Yu everything. Whatever Crimson Rain did, Yizhen could do as well.
But Xie Lian shook his head, a crease between his brows. “It’s risky. When I broke my shackles, I was bound to them, true, but my soul was not sealed inside, separate from my body. If we break Yin Yu’s shackles too hastily, at worst we could potentially destroy his soul.”
Yizhen immediately balked at that. He was rash in many things, but he wouldn’t risk his Shixiong’s life like that.
Xie Lian’s brow knitted. “San Lang, do you know what cursed shackles really are?” He looked thoughtful. “Binding arrays are common and have a range of strength, but even the strongest binding array falls far below the ability of cursed shackles to bind the powers of a god. In Heaven, only Jun Wu knew how to use them.”
Crimson Rain shook his head. “I’ve never heard of any ghost able to use it either.”
Xie Lian straightened. “Well, if there’s any record of cursed shackles in mortal or immortal history, there’s one person who could find that out.”
Ling Wen resisted the urge to pinch her nose bridge when she spotted the trio who were walking through the front doors of her palace. She put on a polite smile to mask her apprehension as she went up to meet them. “Your Highness, Crimson Rain, Qiying-dianxia. What can I do for you today?”
“Xie Lian says you might know about the cursed shackles,” Quan Yizhen spoke up, blunt. It was a feature that Ling Wen found both frustrating and reassuring in equal measure. He was predictable, which meant Ling Wen could manipulate him if the need ever arose (had manipulated him before), but he was also bullheaded enough to persist to get what he wanted. There was no ambiguity on why he was asking this particular question. She would not be getting rid of him today if she didn’t give him the answers he was looking for. Especially on this topic, and anything for that person’s sake.
(‘You owe the both of them,’ a voice that was her conscience whispered, ‘for what you once did.’)
She sighed. “Wait here.” She turned on her heel to enter the labyrinth of rooms deeper in her palace, where the more sensitive material was kept. She wasn’t particularly surprised when Quan Yizhen dogged her steps despite her instruction. Xie Lian and Crimson Rain followed at a more sedate pace.
With a small bitten-back sigh, Ling Wen headed to a room at the back where she kept her personal research.
“...I looked into it once. There are no records in the Heavenly Capital, at least not outside of Jun Wu’s private collection which was largely lost in the destruction. However,”
Locating the materials she was looking for, Ling Wen brought a set of scrolls to the desk at the center of the room.
“There were some texts documenting the legends that are believed by mortals that made vague mentions of a spiritual shackle capable of sealing power and rewinding time. These records came with mentions of a realm that apparently exists, but we know nothing of today – hell. According to these legends, there is a hell realm as a direct counterpart to the heavenly realm. Where heaven was in the sky, hell was deep in the earth. It was where mortal souls go after they die, to face punishment for their sins or pass on to their next life if their sentences had been served. The mentioned shackle were a tool used by hell officials to seal away spiritual power, maintain an immortal body so that the pain of punishments could be inflicted over and over again, and could reverse time so that tortures could be started afresh.”
Xie Lian looked thoughtful. “If the cursed shackle indeed originates from the hell realm, the information we need may be there.”
Quan Yizhen nodded resolutely. “Okay. How do I go there?”
Ling Wen frowned. “Qi Ying, this isn’t going to be easy. For one, we don’t know how to enter hell. And even if you manage to get in, it may not be so simple to get out again. There are records of hell officials who can travel between the mortal and hell realms at will even outside of this time period, but this knowledge has been lost to time. There is no guarantee that even you as a heaven official will be able to travel out,” Ling Wen warned. “The place is an unknown. The hell realm may have a barrier like the one around Tonglu Mountain. Your heavenly powers may not work there. The meager records suggest that there are hell officials, the way heaven has heaven officials. But these are all mortal records, passed down through legends. We do know that legends do stem from some truth, but we don’t know how accurate these are. Why has there been no contact with heaven? They may be hostile towards heaven officials, or they may not exist at all.”
“Tell me where to go,” Quan Yizhen demanded.
Ling Wen sighed, long-suffering. “Did you hear anything I say?”
Quan Yizhen’s lips took on a stubborn tilt. “I might get stuck there. But Shixiong has been stuck for more than a year now. I want to help him.”
Oftentimes, one forgot that despite his brash nature, Qi Ying was a legitimate god who had the capacity to answer his followers’ prayers and maintain an impressive scope of territory.
Ling Wen spread out a map of the mortal realm across the table.
“Judging from mortal beliefs, there should also be a direct link between heaven and hell, but we don’t have any clues on where that may be located. With the destruction in the past few years, there is no saying that the connection is still intact at all. So the rumored entrances in the mortal realm are the best chances we have.”
She tapped four points on the map.
“Fengdu County, Jiuyuan, Jiuquan, and Mount Tai. These are the locations that have been linked to the possible places where the gates of hell may be found. There are others as well, but these are the most cited ones. Legend says that the gates of hell open on the 15th day of the 7th lunar month and stay open for 14 days, when it closes again at the end of the month. If you do not return before the gates close again, I cannot say what will happen. From all records, the gates will not open again until the next year, when the cycle repeats. Unfortunately, we are running on a tight schedule.” She let out a sigh.
“For better or worse, today marks the twenty-first day of the seventh month. If these gates of hell do exist, they will be open now. You have nine days. Find the gates, go into hell, extract any documents that may be linked to the cursed shackle, and bring them to me.”
The space Yin Yu was in swayed with regular motions, like a boat on water as Yizhen walked. Yizhen had been moving around a lot lately, even for the active young god. Every time Yin Yu regained consciousness, they seemed to be in a different place.
A town, a forest, a mountain, a river; it was clear that Yizhen was looking for something.
Lulled by the rocking motion, Yin Yu was sinking back into the darkness when Yizhen’s voice broke the silence.
“Shixiong, there’s a funny-looking bird.”
Yin Yu huffed out a fondly exasperated laugh, also looking towards the hornbill with a large curved beak and colorful plumage. As they traveled, Yizhen would comment on anything and everything that his attention was caught by. It reminded Yin Yu of their days in the Sect, when Yizhen would run up to him to tell him about his day or some weird bug he found or some new move he mastered.
The last part would make a small hidden part of Yin Yu burn with jealousy, even though he understood that Yizhen wasn’t showing off to Yin Yu to lord it over him, he actually wanted Yin Yu to notice and be proud of him. That didn’t mean that it didn’t still sting when Yizhen mastered a complicated technique that it had taken Yin Yu years to learn in just a few weeks.
The swaying movement stopped, drawing Yin Yu out of his thoughts.
They were standing at the top of a mountain, gazing across the clouds. The setting sun casted a reddish-purple glow over the sky, reflecting off the clouds to make it look like an artist had hand-painted each one.
“I wish you could see this, Shixiong,” he heard Yizhen say, and there was something quiet and vulnerable about the usually exuberant man’s voice. “You always told me to slow down and appreciate the world around us, and I tried to, but it’s not the same without you.”
“...I can see it,” Yin Yu said, but like before, Yizhen couldn’t hear him.
Even though Xie Lian had assured Yizhen that Crimson Rain would draw on his network to search the locations Ling Wen had told them about, Yizhen insisted on joining the search on the ground. There was no way he would sit still and wait around now that they had a new lead for bringing Shixiong back.
The terrain around Mount Tai was the most different to traverse, and also the most difficult to cover systematically. He tracked the passing days from the rise and fall of the sun. As a god, he didn’t need to eat or sleep, and he was far from running out of energy. But more than a week had passed. If the legends Ling Wen had found were correct, they were running low on time.
“Qiying-dianxia.” It was Xie Lian contacting him through his private communication array. “One of San Lang’s contacts has some information. I’ll send you the location for the meet-up.”
Looking over the map that Xie Lian sent over, the meet-up point turned out to be a town at the foot of the mountain Yizhen was currently on. The fastest way would be… right there. Yizhen deftly vaulted off the side of the cliff, letting gravity bring him down to the tree line below. There was no time to waste.
Yizhen looked around as he entered the town. During his search, he had noticed how mortals would put out tables of offerings outside their homes, presumably for the ghosts who had wandered out of hell. Every now and then, Yizhen would spot low-level ghosts gathering around these tables late at night when the mortals had gone to bed, greedily eating the steamed buns and plates of fried rice. Typically, they would scatter when they noticed Yizhen, frightened by his heavenly aura. When they realized that Yizhen didn’t care about them, they would warily regroup around the table after he had passed by.
There was a table of offerings on this street too, but there was no group here. There was just one figure standing by the tables, rapidly shoving food into his mouth. Unlike the other ghosts, this one had a powerful aura in his own right, and only spared a glance towards Yizhen in between bites of mantou, clearly having noticed his presence. His appearance and demeanor niggled something in Yizhen’s memory. Yizhen frowned, trying to place him.
As he mulled over it, a portal opened and out stepped Crimson Rain and Xie Lian.
Xie Lian clapped his hands together. “Perfect. We’re all here.” He turned to the ghost. “Lord Black Water, you said you might know where the entrance to hell is?
The revelation of the ghost’s identity was far outshadowed by the idea that he had the information Yizhen needed.
“Where is it?” Yizhen demanded.
Yin Yu sighed deeply. “Yizhen, I know I taught you manners,” he grumbled to Yizhen’s deaf ears.
Instead of answering Yizhen immediately, Black Water swallowed another mouthful of stewed pork before shooting a look towards Crimson Rain. “This counts to paying off my debts.” He directed this at Hua Cheng.
The other Ghost King shrugged, deceptively nonchalant. “Partially. If the information turns out to be accurate.”
He Xuan shrugged. Good enough for him. Snatching up one last steamed bun and a chicken leg, he nodded. “Follow me.”
Black Water brought them to a mountain a few li away from the town. A huge cavern gaped out of the mountainside, its interior dark and depthless. But more than the appearance, what really stood out was the heavy spiritual energy that surrounded it.
He Xuan’s face twisted as he stopped short a solid distance away. “I’d rather not go any closer.”
The sentiment was shared by Crimson Rain, it seemed, from the way his brow had knitted as they neared the place.
“San Lang, do you feel alright?” Xie Lian touched the side of Hua Cheng’s face, looking worried.
Hua Cheng smiled wanly, turning Xie Lian’s hand to press a kiss there to the palm. “I’m fine, Gege. There is a strange energy to this place that feels similar to the pull when Tonglu Mountain is open, but it’s diminished. It’s easier to resist.”
However, lower level ghosts were clearly more susceptible than the two Ghost Kings, groups of ghosts passing them in a trance without paying them any attention.
“Can I leave now?” Black Water intoned flatly, his face turning stonier the longer they stayed there.
Xie Lian nodded to him. “Thank you, Lord Black Water. This has been very helpful.”
“This lowers my debt,” He Xuan reminded Crimson Rain before melting into the shadows.
This was it, then. The entrance to hell.
“Gege, be careful,” Hua Cheng warned, curling a protective arm around Xie Lian’s waist when the god tried to investigate closer. “This place feels unstable. The gates may close soon.”
True to word, as the last few ghosts entered the cavern, a rumbling noise started. The ground beneath their feet began to shake. Their gazes snapped towards the cavern in the mountainside. The giant hole was slowly sliding close, rock sliding out from both sides of the cavern’s entrance like great doors in the Earth itself.
Yizhen took a step forward, catching Xie Lian’s attention.
“Qiying-dianxia?”
Instead of stopping, Yizhen quickened his footsteps.
Ling Wen’s warning rang in his mind. ‘The gates of hell will close at the end of the seventh lunar month. As far as we know, they will stay closed until the next year.’
Ling Wen had spoken those words to warn him to leave hell before the gates closed, or risk getting sealed inside. But Quan Yizhen had taken to heart in a different way. Shixiong had already been gone for more than a year. Yizhen didn’t want to wait for another year to be able to help him.
Ignoring Xie Lian's alarmed shout, he ran forward.
Right before the Gates slid shut, Yizhen jumped straight into hell.
