Chapter Text
“You traitor!” the man screamed, rage filling every part of voice. Hit with a burst of wind, Yanqing was sent flying, back hitting some sort of barrier before he fell to the ground. “How could it have come to this?” the man questioned, anguish joining the rage in his voice, as he ran forward with a speed that Yanqing had only previously seen from Feixiao, yet, despite appearing in front of the boy in an instant, Yanqing was able to lift his sword and block the oncoming swing. The force in which their swords clashed reverberated through all the bones in Yanqing’s torso, causing him to shudder in slight pain. Where were his other swords? Yanqing couldn’t find them, he only had his main sword, Yanzhou, with him, but the blade felt… disconnected from him, despite it still working reliably alongside him. Left with no other option, and not having the strength to push the man away, especially with his opponent practically on top of him, Yanqing summoned jagged swords made of ice and sent them towards the man’s back. In order to dodge the oncoming attack, the man was forced to break his stalemate with Yanqing and jump back. Yanqing cursed as, with the man out of the way, the ice swords were now hurtling towards him. Yanqing was adept at using his ice to coat and control multiple swords at once. Though using and controlling swords made purely of ice was a different challenge, Yanqing was usually in great control of his power, yet, this time, the ice swords refused to listen to the qi that usually commanded it. Sitting down, with his back against the barrier and several ice swords speeding towards him, Yanqing had no time or space to dodge; the boy raised Yanzhou to defend himself from the blades of his own making. He deflected 1 ice sword, two ice swords, 3 ice swords, before letting out a sharp inhale as the 4th impaled his side. Despite the pain, Yanqing managed to deflect the 5th, only for the 6th to stab his arm.
Yanqing grunted as he pulled the two swords out, leaving them haphazardly on the ground. It wasn’t wise to pull out an object that had made a deep wound, but Yanqing healed fast, and the ice was just so, so cold. Like most ice users, Yanqing had an increased resistance to low temperatures, the temperature of his and others’ ice had never bothered him before, but now, impaled with his own icy blades, the piercing cold bit at his wounds, numbing the surrounding area yet engendering pain, nonetheless.
Yanqing finally rose to his feet, looking around for his opponent who had disappeared from his line of sight. “How pathetic” he heard the man say. Yanqing turned to the direction of the voice but saw nothing “you slander THEIR name, fight THEIR divine creations, join those who want to kill THEM for THEIR gift, yet you still rely on THEIR blessing to fight.” Yanqing gritted his teeth and sent an uncontrolled blast of ice in the direction the voice was coming from. “You’re a hypocrite!” the man exclaimed, realisation coating his voice. “You’re a hypocrite, and there’s nothing worse!” despite the harsh words, the man sounded almost excited and eager.
Yanqing ran towards the direction of the voice, sword in hand, when, suddenly, the ground fractured beneath him and he fell into the void beneath him; down, down, down, Yanqing felt like his decent would never stop. Occasionally, he would pass by a flash of pale yellow, but it would disappear before he could get a good look at it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of falling, Yanqing’s body came to a sudden holt; not due to the presence of ground, rather, his body suddenly stopped mid-air, levitating. It was as if there were string attached to his back, holding him up, face down in a lying position. However, the levitation was the least of Yanqing’s worries, as, right in front of his face, the boy found a head. The head seemed to belong to a woman, her hair, a pale yellow, ended at the same point the head ended. Yanqing let out a slow, shaky breath and his head flinched backwards; the rest of his body completely immobilised. At Yanqing’s movement, the head’s eyes and mouth snapped open. It stared through Yanqing and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Yanqing shot up with a scream, eyes immediately landing on a man with a guandao raised, seemingly poised to attack. Instinctively, Yanqing sent several swords at the man who deflected them all. Yanqing clutched his chest in pain and started scratching at his neck. His lungs felt tight; it felt as if he was breathing through a tiny straw. If not for the small clouds of air that he saw coming out of his mouth, Yanqing would be certain he wasn’t able to breathe at all. Despite his asphyxiation, Yanqing once again prepped himself to attack, only to be interrupted by a voice.
“Calm down” the man ordered, his voice steady but still showing hints of panic. Yanqing froze at the voice, instantly recognising it’s owner.
“Can’t breathe” Yanqing rasped, desperately trying to convey the situation he was in.
“Yes, you can” Jing Yuan stated, dismissing his guandao as he walked towards the boy. Yanqing managed to shoot his mentor an bewildered look. Surely if he were able to breathe, he wouldn’t be struggling to do so. The man sat next to the boy and placed his hand on Yanqing’s back “just focus on my breathing”. Jing Yuan made his breaths slow and exaggerated and it wasn’t long before Yanqing started to follow his rhythm, making deep inhales and slow exhales. Jing Yuan slowly counted to 10. By the time he got to 7, Yanqing’s breathing had almost completely stabled out. “Are you alright?” the man asked. Yanqing nodded, still too focused on breathing to speak.
Suddenly, Yanqing spotted a hint of red in the corner of his eye. The red was on his arm, yet his arm wasn’t the source of the red.
“You’re bleeding” Yanqing noted. Though Jing Yuan seemed mostly unharmed, Yanqing saw two gashes on the man: one on his arm, another on his side.
“It’s nothing serious” Jing Yuan assured. “It might need to be bandaged, but other than that, it’ll heal on its own quite quickly”.
Jing Yuan was right, the cuts were small, but the seriousness of the cuts weren’t what the boy was worried about. The man had been hit in roughly the same places Yanqing had been hit in his dream. Yanqing had woken up in a frozen room to the man holding his guandao. Jing Yuan was ready to defend himself against the attack Yanqing instinctively sent at him. On the floor lay shattered icicles. Surrounding Jing Yuan’s wounds was a thin layer of frost, blood mixing in, turning the pinkish hue red. No, the severity of Jing Yuan’s wounds was not what Yanqing was worried about.
“Did I hurt you?” Yanqing whispered, voice shaking. Despite it being phrased like a question, both he and Jing Yuan knew that Yanqing already knew the answer.
Jing Yuan gave Yanqing a small, soft, comforting smile “it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to”.