Chapter Text
He shouldn’t be here. And yet, here he is.
With heaving breaths, Yanqing made his way further into the unearthed ruins of Scalegorge Waterscape, gritting his teeth against every wince his aches and pains yearned to pull from him. He refuses to let them pull him down further than he already is.
Perhaps, if the circumstances were different, he would have marveled at accessing a location so sacred to the Vidyadhara. Maybe he would’ve wanted to ask Jing Yuan about the place if his general was able to see it during its glory days. Even though his specialty and interest lie in blades rather than history, it was hard for someone like him to not be even a little curious. But that was not a possibility. Not now and not ever.
Yanqing picks his battles carefully, not that there are many in the first place. After all, it wasn’t too hard for someone like him to notice certain paths through the place seemed clearer of monsters than others. He can only assume that his general, and whoever he took with him, had passed through recently.
“The general would be disappointed in you.”
“The general doesn’t need you.”
“The general has competent allies by his side now.”
The thoughts whisper mockingly from the depths of his mind and Yanqing tries his best to not falter as he presses onward. And yet, is the voice inside, sounding exactly like his own, truly wrong?
Instead of leaving to help elsewhere – or better yet, find somewhere to rest to treat his wounds – he is dragging himself toward the source of the Luofu’s crisis. Once again, he has blatantly disobeyed his general’s orders.
Instead of Jing Yuan taking one of his most trusted aides, the man is instead entrusting important tasks and his own safety in the hands of strangers – strangers who have so far proven to be good-natured and on their side but are still strangers nonetheless.
Instead of his general taking someone whose skills he knows well and is familiar with fighting side by side with, he chooses to fight alongside people whose abilities he is unfamiliar with.
Would things have gone differently if only he had made different decisions? Yanqing isn’t sure. Perhaps, it would have changed nothing and he would still end up left behind. Though, maybe he would’ve been less battered.
But he couldn’t help himself from storming out to pursue Blade. He had to prove Jing Yuan wrong. And how else could he other than by capturing a major criminal that even had the IPC setting a bounty on his head?
Looking back on it, it was foolish, and he found himself internally shriveling up as he recalled the attitude he had displayed to the one he respects most. He had let himself become too comfortable and showed a level of unprofessionalism that would leave anyone of his standing ashamed.
Yanqing knows he is not perfect. Despite the numerous accomplishments and victories under his belt, he is aware that there are creatures and warriors beyond the Luofu greater than him. There are even things out there that are, dare he say, greater than Jing Yuan. So, surely, he would be prepared for a day when he may meet a match other than Jing Yuan. But he didn’t think he’d be fed the bitter pill of loss quite like this.
Reflecting on his every decision made him wish he could go back in time and strangle himself. He had let his pride take over his reason, he had behaved inappropriately toward the man who is his superior and master (whose command was more of an insistent suggestion for his sake than a reinforced instruction), he had nearly perished twice, and now he is going against a genuine order.
“ Nng… !” Yanqing stumbles with a gasp, the uneven ground tripping him up. His face scrunches up as the sudden movements tug at his wounds, more blood oozing out in response to the disturbance.
Why did he have to turn around to march into, what has to be, another battle? Why couldn’t he just leave things alone? He only has so much left in him and he knows that the conflict up ahead will be one he cannot keep up with.
He saw the look in his general’s eyes. It was one he knew very well – the look of someone who has context that others clearly don’t. Within mere seconds and without a word needing to be said, Yanqing could read Jing Yuan well enough to tell that the man had figured out the true threat and knew the extent of the severity of their situation.
Why couldn’t his general just tell him?
“Now is not the time.”
It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. There was clearly an unspoken timer and every second was to be used wisely. Wherever Jing Yuan needed to be, it could not wait unless he wished to risk the chances of the Luofu not making it out of this crisis with as few consequences as possible.
Yanqing knows this. It’s not hard to figure out. And just like Jing Yuan, Yanqing knows that their positions mean they must put their duties to the Xianzhou and its people before themselves.
So, why did it still have to sting like a thousand thorns?
Yanqing blinks and lifts his head. The draconic features of the Ambrosial Abor’s roots hang over him larger and clearer than ever before. It is brilliant and glorious despite the years of bloodshed and conflict associated with it.
Yanqing tugs at the remaining energy within him and his sword dutifully hovers to his side awaiting further orders. As he looks at it, uncertainty in swirling his every thought, he can spot his reflection within the stunning blade.
The smartest thing to do is to stop this madness and know when to quit – to give up and turn back while he still can. And yet…
Something within his gut screams and churns at him. It feels as if it is soundlessly screaming an ominous omen to him. And it leaves an uneasy sensation in every beat of his heart that is almost painful to force himself to ignore.
He inhales sharply before stepping onto the blade, not needing to say a thing before he’s carried off to the depths of the roots. As his hair whips from the flight, he forms a tiny shard of ice within his palm, staring at it as if the weight of the world lies within it. And, for him, it might as well. Briefly, his mind flashes to his fight against Blade and the awakened imbibitor Lunae, and the swords of ice that were destroyed in the altercation.
Yanqing’s fingers curl around the tiny shard, expression resigned as he makes his decision.
At first, he had not found any correlation between the two.
People forget things all the time. It was nothing to be concerned about. Especially, for the long-lived who only began to truly suffer a worrying degree of memory issues if they were succumbing to mara. And, for the average person, such a thing would not occur for a very long time.
And yet, even as a tiny child, Yanqing always had a warrior's instinct that told him something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t matter if all he forgot was to fasten his collar or forget where he put something. Thinking back on it, perhaps even Jing Yuan suspected something was wrong but it’s been ages since those days. And it’s likely he no longer has that memory anymore anyways.
However, what he can recall with clarity is that he was too nervous to confide in Jing Yuan about it. What if it made him seem unreliable to his master? For someone so young, possessing the fiery motivation to grow stronger, how could he ever bring himself to admit such a weakness? What if it was a sign of something more serious? That would certainly be scary to consider. And what if he was simply overthinking things and he made others worried over nothing but a gut feeling and no proof? That would be a bit embarrassing and a waste of time.
And yet, it took sneaking off for extra practice (when he should have been resting), for younger him to connect the dots.
He cannot recall it at all. However, where the memories fail, the emotions sometimes do not. And he could tell that he was trying to do something while practicing. It was most likely some new move he invented that he wished to master even as it pushed him to his limits.
The emotions leave a trail, touches of disappointment and determination. He could recall bursts of frustration and echoes of physical aches likely from past failures. And yet, the scariest part of “recalling” that memory is when there is a growing chill, a burst of fear, and then…
Nothing. There is nothing.
And it wasn’t as if he had fallen asleep. There was no exhaustion to be felt. There was no weariness. There was nothing for him to see, to hear, to smell, to feel… Emotions seemed to vanish into thin air. It was truly a point of nothingness.
The drop was like the heavy and sickening pit in someone’s stomach as they free fall. The cut-off was as abrupt and startling as someone not realizing they ran off a cliff until they were already in the air to plummet.
What occurred after doesn’t matter much. But what did were the tiny experiments he had conducted in secret to prove the gut feeling he had been experiencing for so long with no answer as to why.
At some point, Yanqing realized that he was forgetful not because he was forgetful.
It was because the strength of his abilities relied on his memories as fuel. And if his ice constructs, vessels for that “fuel”, were to shatter instead of being recalled into him…the consequences would be far worse.
The moment young him figured it out, tiny and freshly broken shards of ice resting in his small palm, he knew…
He could never let Jing Yuan know of this.
Yanqing feels like he cannot breathe as his hair whips in the air, leaving behind momentary stings as the strands hit his face. But such pain is minuscule compared to the rest of his wounds. And the rest of his wounds are nothing compared to the paralyzing fear that suddenly coiled itself around his heart, working to squeeze every ounce of life out of it. He doesn’t even process the entire scene he had flown into, nor does he have time to stop and analyze it.
However, what he can see with crystal-clear clarity is Jing Yuan and the massive hand that dares to reach for him. The sheer malicious intent comes off in waves, the aura of an Emanator of Destruction making the air feel suffocatingly heavy. If Yanqing were a weaker man, he’d probably become faint enough to drop out of the sky.
“Why isn’t he moving…? Why isn’t he moving!?” Yanqing has sparred with the general more times than he can count. He knows that Jing Yuan could avoid this if he truly wanted to. And yet…his general stands there, worn down but not out, as if intending to get hurt. And right now, Yanqing is far too frantic to consider why someone so incredibly important to him is seemingly choosing to take a hit.
A familiar chill washes over Yanqing’s body, flakes of ice dancing around his body as if to welcome in the oncoming storm. He reaches out, feeling eyes looking in his direction, before letting the energy surge forth. Before Phantylia can make contact with Jing Yuan, a jagged glacier of ice emerges and blocks her path. With such little time to intercept her advance, the protective barrier is a tad smaller than the size of her palm.
Yanqing thinks he hears the call of his general now that he has made his presence known to them all. However, he had no time to respond before something began to creak within his mind. With a sharp inhale, he looks over, spotting the Emanator’s fingers curl around his wall of ice.
“It seems a stray bird has wandered in.” Her expression only holds a tinge of annoyance, but her lips curve into a mocking smirk. “How…cute.”
Her grip tightens and, with little effort, Yanqing’s barrier fractures and crumbles into useless pieces. Yanqing flinches with a gasp, the mental jolt causing him to falter as he swings the wooden practice sword with too much of his weight. He feels himself stumbling forward and he flails in a desperate act to regain his balance. And yet, before he could embarrass himself further by falling on his face, a familiar warmth grabbed him by the back of his shirt before pulling him back up with ease.
Under the warm rays of the afternoon sun, Yanqing glances up at the towering figure of his general. The man chuckles fondly, lips moving as he speaks. But Yanqing cannot hear a thing as he finally descends. His swords are at the ready, the blades of ice gleaming as he stands at his general’s side.
“Do not forget why you’re here, don’t forget why you’re here, don’t forget-” Yanqing repeats it like a mantra even as he knows he let himself lose a great chunk of his life. But it’s alright. It isn’t that problematic to lose some childhood memories. There are a lot of people who forget the earlier parts of their life.
“Yanqing…!” The boy slightly winces at the harsh tone his general speaks his name in. He’s never heard Jing Yuan take such a tone with him, but he supposes he does deserve it. He shouldn’t be here, after all.
Yanqing finds himself too cowardly to turn and meet Jing Yuan’s gaze which seems to sear itself into the back of his neck. “General…”
Without needing to look, Yanqing can feel the way Jing Yuan frowns as the man speaks up. “What are you doing out here all alone? Where did the other kids go?”
Yanqing’s cheeks puff up with irritation as he finds himself kicking at a stray pebble by his feet. “They all went off to play elsewhere. They got tired of talking with me because all I do is talk about swords. They said it makes me boring to hang out with.”
Jing Yuan leans against a nearby tree, arms crossed as he mulls the situation over. Somehow, even without speaking a word yet, Yanqing finds his temper calming ever so slightly.
“Yanqing…!”
A voice calls out for him as he becomes a petal within a hurricane’s winds. Static fills the air and he can feel the way it brushes against his ever-forming ice. It’s as if it is chasing him.
“Don’t forget, don’t forget…” Yanqing mumbles softly to himself as he forces his body to fight. Since when did he begin fighting? Since when was he on the battlefield? He can’t quite recall, but what he knows for sure is that he is here because he desires to assist his general and protect him.
His ears ring with the song of combat and he can hear the chorus that is the Astral Express crew. And occasionally, he hears the wretched melody of the Destruction’s Emanator and the shatter of something breaking.
It leaves him with the free time to polish the new swords he bought for his growing collection. And this naturally brings him great pleasure. After all, he’d hate for any of his precious blades to lose their edge and shine because of his negligence! Additionally, now he could have some time to think of names for such expensive swords. Though, strangely enough, he can’t recall how much time has passed. Every action feels automatic as the entire universe becomes a massive blur. He goes through the motions, relying on his instincts as his body screams at him to stop and rest.
He doesn’t listen even as the general’s poorly withheld laughter reaches his ears. Yanqing’s face turns pink as he blushes, hurrying to wipe the traces of whipped cream off of his face. He feels his mouth move as he childishly complains, reprimanding Jing Yuan for finding his messy face funny enough to laugh at. Jing Yuan’s smile shines as bright as the sun as he calms himself enough to apologize. However, Yanqing can still spot the mirth in the general’s gaze with far too much ease.
Yanqing finds himself crying out as he tumbles against the ground. There are shouts and he can see the shadow of something dangerous descending upon him. All he can envision is something sharp enough and massive enough to protect him from the incoming threat that comes closer with the intent to kill.
“I cannot die, I cannot die, I cannot die, I cannot-” He feels like a cornered animal as his body shivers. He feels the icy frost clinging to his clothes as he creates whatever comes to mind to save him.
If he were not already knocked down, he would surely have been shoved to the ground as the giant blade of ice he forged made contact with Phantylia. The heavy pressure is almost overwhelming. But, by now, this was not his first time having a serious spar with his general. The initial shock of the power behind that glaive’s strikes is not as paralyzing as it used to be for him. Truly, it brings him great joy to know how far he’s come and how quickly he has been catching up to Jing Yuan’s pace. No other opponent he’s fought on the Luofu holds a candle to the thrilling challenge Jing Yuan gives him.
Yanqing finds himself smiling amongst the debris of ice. Phantylia’s pained tone echoes across the battlefield and leaves him with a sense of victory no matter how small.
“Yanqing…”
The world begins to feel lighter and the weight of his every trouble seems to drift away as they’re swallowed by the shore. Jing Yuan’s gentle embrace seems to lull his weary self to sleep. The world glows in golden light as the daylight begins to fade.
“Yanqing…!”
His head spins and he finds that he cannot tell up from down or left from right. But he somehow can tell, deep down, that he allowed something very bad to happen. With heaving breaths, Yanqing made his way further into the unearthed ruins of Scalegorge Waterscape, gritting his teeth against every wince his aches and pains yearned to pull from him. He refuses to let them pull him down further than he already is.
“Yanqing!”
He feels like…
“Yanqing!”
…He’s forgetting something important.