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Chapter Text

It was the first house the visitor had stopped by this evening, but it would not be the last.

It was a small place. Modest, but well-kept. Comfortable for a three-person family: the diligent teenage boy, still working outside past dusk, who had spotted the traveler on the road, chatting with him easily; his older sister, who had so courteously invited the gentleman in to stay for the dinner she’d prepared; their grandfather, who had regarded him with gruff disdain since he’d set foot inside the house. A less astute observer would not have recognized the wariness behind the old man’s glare, the nerves underlying the cold shoulder.

The fear, though useless, had been well-placed.

The young woman now lay dead on the floor, her skin ghostly white, save for the splash of dark blood across her neck. Not far from her lay the boy, splayed out with an arm still reaching toward his sister.

The visitor stepped over their still bodies, seeming nearly to float where the hems of his dark robes brushed the ground.

He returned now to the grandfather. In the time that had passed, the old man had returned to consciousness and has halfway propped himself up, leaning heavily against the cracked plaster of the bedroom wall where he’d been thrown. When he noticed the visitor in the doorframe, he fumbled, then fell forward to his knees; one leg gave out in the process and contorted in a way that looked quite uncomfortable. He didn’t even try to stifle his cry of pain; all traces of composure had long disappeared from him, gone away with the last light of the evening sun.

It was amusing, how quickly their attitudes always changed.

As the visitor approached him, the old man kowtowed to practically kiss the dirt floor. “Have mercy,” the man begged. “Please, the children – kill me if you must, but spare them, please, they’re young, they’re everything I have—”

Without haste, the guest lowered himself to crouch before the trembling, prostrate figure before him. The man truly wasn’t so old. The visitor placed a pale hand on his shoulder, not unkindly. The grandfather startled at the touch, before a muffled sob escaped him.

“Have mercy,” he wheezed again, through bruised flesh and broken ribs, all while the visitor carefully helped him up from his bow. “Have mercy, Daozhang, please—”

The daoshi hushed the man, a long, calming sound. He took the pair of gnarled, trembling hands in his own.

“Shushu,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright.” He held onto the grandfather’s hands, firm and steadying. “There’s nothing more for you to worry about.”

The old man finally hazarded a look up. The wild look in his wide eyes was half hope, half terror.

The daoshi smiled at him warmly, then tore into the old man’s throat.

Chapter Text

“Over here, Zichen.”

Xiao Xingchen’s voice broke through the eerie stillness of the forest around them, bringing Song Lan’s gaze away from the tall, warping tree trunks and back over to his companion. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, courtesy of wandering through the woods all night, so he was able to easily make out Xiao Xingchen’s boot lifting a rock only a few feet away from him.

Deep grooves in the earth, unnatural in size and shape, and host to a strange, dark liquid pooling within them. Xiao Xingchen’s nose wrinkled in disapproval, which Song Lan followed up, after making his way over, with a scoff of disgust. Both looked past the rock and further into the forest, where a fainter, still-wet trail could be made out beneath torn-up grass and dirt.

“This seems like a poor attempt at… disguising itself.” Xiao Xingchen let the rock drop back to its initial position, looking uneasy. “Is it trying to throw us off its trail?”

Song Lan inhaled slowly as the two began to walk, almost as if entranced, further down the trail. He looked up at the dark canopy blotting out the night sky and felt an uncomfortable weight begin to settle on his tongue. Beside him, Xiao Xingchen’s head was swimming with discomfort of his own, yet neither dared voice what the other was surely thinking.

Not until there was no longer a way to deny it. The more they walked, the heavier their silence became, up until even the slight swishing of their robes was hushed by the sight before them.

There was no moon on the night they closed in on the creature. But no amount of darkness could hide the silhouettes of limp bodies hanging from branches, limbs twisted in unnatural ways, almost appearing deliberate, as if they’d stumbled upon a perverse scene from a morbid shadow puppet play.

Up until now, everything had followed the same pattern. The creature, though elusive, had become familiar – as had its trail.

They had been pursuing this case for three weeks now: a spate of killings through the rural villages, spreading up the countryside with a new murder or slaughter every several days. The distinguishing feature was that, bafflingly, most of the bodies were found completely drained of blood the next morning.

Song Lan had never seen anything like it. Depleting a person of their living qi was one thing, and every cultivator, down to the junior disciples of the smallest clans, was familiar with the telltale signs of a restless jiangshi. But to sap them completely dry of blood?

Xiao Xingchen had taken in the sight of the first victims they had come across, their haunted expressions and ghostly white skin. He had drawn back the hair of one of the corpses to examine the blood-crusted bite wound on its neck, the shape disturbingly close to that of a human mouth.

“I know what this is,” he had murmured, his voice strange.

A vampire, Xiao Xingchen insisted – thirsty for blood, human once, transformed by a demonic affliction from some distant land. Rare in these parts, but a definite threat, and not to be underestimated.

“We studied them, back on the mountain,” he had said. “But I’ve never seen actual evidence of one before.”

That would change quickly over the weeks that followed. The bloodless bodies continued to pile up, and then the perpetrators began to appear.

Possessing pallid, splotchy skin and a shambling gait, it was not difficult to envision them as having been human, but the distortion of their features, with sunken, glowing eyes and sharp teeth protruding from their hanging jaws, made it clear they had since become something else – something dangerous, unnatural. Wrong. Oftentimes, their necks appeared stiff and swollen on one side, causing their heads to be frozen at an angle, yet this in no way seemed to affect their ability to sink their teeth into anything, as made apparent by the brutality with which they sought to quell their insatiable hunger.

These creatures bore the same bite marks, typically on their necks, as the bloodless corpses the cultivators encountered. But blood, though cold and sluggish, still pumped through their veins. Xiao Xingchen had expressed that these, too, were victims of a vampire bite, but that this was the result when a body was not drained of blood entirely.

After exhausting their options, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen had reached the unfortunate conclusion that the best thing to do for them would be put them out of their misery – a task that was easier said than done. Despite their awkward stances and their tendency to shuffle about, the vampires became surprisingly agile – and persistent – when faced with a threat. They would attack relentlessly with little concern for injury, which could put the cultivators at a disadvantage if they didn’t manage to wound their opponent first.

And although they had tried, repeatedly, to liberate the creatures’ spirits, or even to suppress them for liberation at a future time, it consistently appeared that elimination was the only option. Xiao Xingchen had expressed as much early on: he had been taught that vampires were particularly strong and unstable, such that liberation of the fully intact spirit was a practical impossibility.

Furthermore, only certain methods were effective in destroying the vampires. Xiao Xingchen had rattled them off: exposure to sunlight, stabbing directly through the heart, or beheading. The latter two strategies required burning the body afterward, and they would be completely unfeasible without the spiritual power of Shuanghua and Fuxue. The first strategy would handle a vampire in one fell swoop, burning it alive.

Song Lan would not soon forget the sight of a freshly severed head landing at his feet. If another method of dealing with these beings did exist, he’d be more than happy to learn it. For now, though, this was all they had – and it seemed more merciful to quickly decapitate or stake a vampire than to lure them into daylight.

Through it all, Xiao Xingchen had remained driven, knowledgeable, and persistent. It never ceased to amaze Song Lan just how much he knew about things the rest of the jianghu had barely even heard of, and with how much confidence he tackled situations with said knowledge – confidence that, Song Lan would soon find, was not as strong as it appeared to be. Despite this, his own trust in Xiao Xingchen did not waver. Be it due to the gracefulness of his movement or the compassion in his voice as he spoke of solving any problem, Song Lan remained resolute in following his lead.

Xiao Xingchen had shown himself to be more than capable of handling these violent creatures. He knew about these vampires, and he knew what he was doing. He knew what they were doing.

What reason did Song Lan have not to believe him?

But as the weeks drew on, and the bodies continued to pile up, Song Lan could see the toll their mission was taking on Xiao Xingchen. He was eating less, sleeping less, and at times, deep in the night, he had begun to seem wary of his own shadow. His increasing self-neglect concerned Song Lan. It was as if Xiao Xingchen were making less space in his life for himself in order to fully immerse himself in this seemingly endless task. Song Lan could not allow this to go on.

Xiao Xingchen had sat perched beneath the crescent moon, looking distant and forlorn, eyes glazed over, knees pressed up to his chest.

Song Lan had sat down beside him. “Here,” he had said quietly, and offered a steaming bowl to Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen was quickly pulled back to the present and his seat beside the campfire. He had taken the bowl, warm to the touch, and given Song Lan a grateful smile.

“Eat,” Song Lan urged gently, and Xiao Xingchen began to do so. The soup was simple, but hearty, and a source of comfort against the cold of the autumn night. Song Lan’s cooking was never extravagant, but it was reliable. And even though Xiao Xingchen would not say it aloud, it had come to taste like home.

“Thank you,” was what Xiao Xingchen did say, and he meant it.

Song Lan nodded once. “You haven’t been eating enough,” he stated, equal parts sensible chiding and careful observation. All of it was colored with quiet concern.

“Ah, I’m okay, really—”

In response, Song Lan topped up his bowl with another ladleful of soup.

“I know you’ve been focused on the task at hand,” Song Lan said. “But you need to look after yourself.”

Xiao Xingchen’s head fell. “How can I stop and rest when this keeps happening? People are dying every night, now, and no matter how many vampires we kill, more keep turning up.”

Song Lan had wanted to wait until Xiao Xingchen was well fed to give him any more fuel to continue their mission, but he felt if he didn't speak up, his companion might continue to ruminate. “In my experience, if a problem does not cease, it means the root of it persists. There must be a source we simply haven't found yet.”

“I know. There’s something we’re missing. Something we haven’t taken care of.” He paused, pensive, before admitting, “I don’t know what it is. And I’m afraid of what it might be.”

Hearing that Xiao Xingchen was afraid was not reassuring in the slightest, but Song Lan was determined to stay calm for them both. “We can take some time to rethink our approach.”

“No,” Xiao Xingchen replied a bit too quickly, “there might not be any time.”

At such a swift rebuttal, Song Lan's mask slipped some. His brows momentarily shot upward in despair before reeling himself back in. He hoped it had not been seen. “Could we ask one of the clans for assistance?”

“We’ve tried that.”

“We may not have received a response from Lanling yet,” Song Lan went on, “but….”

Xiao Xingchen looked at him wearily. “Zichen,” he said, “be realistic.”

He was right. Although most of the vampire killings had taken place in the border regions, not necessarily within any cultivation clan’s clear jurisdiction, Lanling Jin Sect was physically closest and in possession of the most resources to spare. The other great clans, and many of the smaller clans as well, were still painstakingly rebuilding in the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign, and had even less reason to help these commoners and two rogue cultivators.

Song Lan inhaled deeply and thought of what to say. It seemed they were running out of alternative approaches – not that they had many of those to begin with. Asking around if anyone had knowledge on vampires, of all things, seemed like a tedious waste of their time, and there were no libraries in this area that would allow them access. Still, he felt he had to say something, lest his attempts at soothing Xiao Xingchen's worries merely caused him more strife.

He thought of the source of all of Xiao Xingchen’s knowledge about these creatures. “Could we not perhaps….”

“You know the answer to that,” Xiao Xingchen shook his head and furrowed his brow deeply to seem determined, but Song Lan knew he was trying to hide the pain in his eyes. “It is down to us alone.”

He'd said us, but Song Lan knew, deep down, he meant me.

"Xingchen," he spoke as gently as he could, “just because you know more than anyone else about these creatures does not mean that you are obligated to handle the problem.”

Xiao Xingchen set his jaw. “We don’t turn away people who ask for our help,” he stated. Not harshly, but unwaveringly firm. This was one of their most fundamental principles – one that united them, and one that guided all their steps. “And besides,” he added, more softly. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was little that Song Lan could say to that. Perhaps one day he would be able to convince Xiao Xingchen to shed some of his burden, but that day had not yet come.

Instead, Song Lan reached toward him, hesitating for a moment before allowing himself to rest a hand on Xiao Xingchen’s upper arm. He adjusted Xiao Xingchen’s cloak, pulling it closer around him against the nighttime chill. Xiao Xingchen’s heart fluttered.

“I do not want you to take on more than you can handle,” Song Lan said quietly.

“I….” At that moment, it became apparent that Xiao Xingchen had realized he’d let himself get close to spiraling. Be it for his own sake, or for Song Lan’s, he took a deep breath and straightened out his posture. “I have not given up. Regardless of my concerns, I want to push on.”

“I know, and I will see this through with you,” Song Lan, thankful that Xiao Xingchen seemed less anxious, was quick to reassure and support him. However, he couldn't help but express a concern of his own. “It’s just… I hope you’ll tell me if you think we’re in over our heads. We can always turn back.”

“I appreciate that.” Xiao Xingchen managed to pull together a smile for him. “Where our help is needed, we have to at least try.”

Only later does Song Lan recognize that that wasn’t truly an agreement to his request.

There would be more nights like this. As the killings continued, as the monstrous vampires kept appearing, they pushed on harder, with more urgency. The repeated ruthlessness disturbed Song Lan, and it bothered Xiao Xingchen profoundly.

Last night, it had been an entire farm village left slaughtered and bloodless. Bodies strewn about under a black sky, limbs falling every which way, scattered as if they’d been running in all directions. Not even the animals had survived the attack; although their blood had not been drained, it had served to paint the town in an exceedingly macabre fashion. There had seemingly been no shortage of aggression this time around; Song Lan had sworn to have seen entrails hanging from the roof of a barn.

He would have requested to leave immediately based off the stench alone had it not been for one other thing setting this scene apart from the rest: a survivor.

They would have missed him, had Xiao Xingchen not said he could hear something moving. Swords drawn, the two had followed the sound into a stable, where, beside the torn-open carcass of a horse, a pile of hay was rustling.

Shuanghua and Fuxue hovered, ready to run the pile clean through, when out tumbled a shivering youth with his arms thrown protectively over his head. Hay stuck out of his messy hair at odd angles, and his robes – which appeared too large for his thinner frame – were torn at the sleeves. Immediately, both swords were lowered.

Pleading for his life, the young man refused to let them get close, and it took some convincing to let him know they were not here to finish the job. Even still, any time Xiao Xingchen attempted to reach out and check him over, he let out a yelp.

It took at least three tries before Xiao Xingchen gave up. Song Lan said nothing the entire time, focused instead on scanning his body for injuries from a safe distance. Ripped sleeves aside, he seemed fine.

They settled instead for staying beside him as he calmed down, by which point he declared that he was going to make a run for it and advised them to do the same before it returned.

It.

One sole vampire had done all this?

The boy hadn’t seen much, ducking into the stable as soon as the killing began, but he was able to confirm that there had indeed only been one assailant, tall and hunched and grotesque, running to and fro like a madman as everyone tried to flee. He’d thrown himself into the hay when the stable doors had opened and had heard the unfortunate steed’s demise, but beyond that there had been silence – up until they’d arrived, of course.

The two cultivators exchanged a worried glance at the sudden realization that the creature could still be nearby. They hastily exited the stable with the boy in tow, who wobbled out into the night with all the antsiness of a dog waiting to be set loose. He rushed a few feet away once it was clear they needed nothing more from him, with Song Lan gently telling Xiao Xingchen to let him go when he once again tried to look him over. However, he turned back around to address them one last time, calling back to them.

“Be careful.”

The moonlight flashed in his eyes as he spoke, causing an eerie glow that made Song Lan do a double take, but just as soon as it had been there, it was gone – as was he.

It had been difficult to spot amidst all the carnage, but they’d found streaks of blood along the ground heading east out of the village. Perhaps the vampire had decided to take itself an appetizer; since its behavior had already shown itself to be quite erratic, something like this hardly seemed out of place.

And so, feeling more determined than ever and closer than they’d ever been to their goal, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen quickly burned and spoke rites over the villagers’ bodies, to ease their spirits’ passing and to prevent any from waking again as vampires themselves.

“Zichen…” Xiao Xingchen had begun. He could not tear his eyes away from the mass funeral pyre in front of them. “With all of this, I’ve been thinking….”

Song Lan had waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “Thinking what?”

Xiao Xingchen had swallowed, then shook his head. The flickering flames danced in his dark eyes. “I think we need to keep moving. Quickly.”

As much as Song Lan would have liked to take a minute to process the night, he knew Xiao Xingchen was right. The longer they took to track down the vampire, the more villages they were likely to find torn apart. "Then let's."

He could always process while walking, after all, and he wouldn't say this, of course, but he was rather eager to get away from the lingering smell of burning flesh. He took one final moment to absorb the scene in front of him, allowing the flames to remind him of what they'd set out to do and strengthen his resolve. After that, he broke himself away and headed for the blood trail, though not before briefly resting a comforting hand to Xiao Xingchen's elbow.

He could manage as much.

The sun was already rising over the horizon by the time they left the pyre behind, and their rekindled pursuit of the creature carried them over into the next evening, with them stopping only briefly beneath the shade of a large oak to eat and rest some. It proved difficult, what with their appetites shrunken and their minds so alert, but had they not taken that respite they would not have been able to calm the wild beating of their hearts.

Sticking to the road less traveled, they started on their path anew and did not stop until it led them, at last, straight to their harrowing destination.

Even the massacre of the night before paled in comparison to the macabre scene in the clearing. The twisted corpses hung in the near-bare trees, swaying slightly in the cold night air. Each gust of wind brought with it a quiet creaking sound, and although it was most likely the wood of the branches, it was almost too in time with the ghostly swinging of the bodies' limbs. The atmosphere seemed electric, charged with something dark and oppressive, and the air smelled of iron and ozone, strong enough to cause Xiao Xingchen to get a headache. Song Lan beside him touched his nose to make sure it wasn't bleeding. It appeared that any blood the corpses would have had was left behind on the trail that led them here, but the stench of slaughter remained.

Both of them stood frozen, taking in the horrific staging of the clearing. Song Lan couldn’t summon words, could only stare and try to keep himself from gagging. Xiao Xingchen, beside him, looked stricken; his mouth had fallen open, his face twisted with pain for the dead and desecrated before them.

“Who would do something like this?” he whispered.

Who. Not what any longer, because surely, the scene before them was more complex, more thoughtful, than anything the vampires they had fought were capable of. And if the youth last night had been truthful, and this was all the work of one single vampire… it was indeed something different than what they had encountered thus far.

It felt, almost, as if they were being taunted.

Xiao Xingchen, unthinking, began to reach for Song Lan’s arm, before catching himself and balling his hand into a fist.

Had Song Lan noticed, he would have offered his arm up anyhow. Perhaps even reached out himself, had he not been frozen. He could've used the comfort.

“Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen said shakily. “I… I should have told you this sooner.”

Song Lan couldn’t tear his eyes from the trees around them, almost sure that something would jump out and take them by surprise. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up even straighter at Xiao Xingchen’s words. “Told me what sooner?”

“When my shifu and the senior disciples taught us about vampires,” Xiao Xingchen said, haltingly, “there were times when they said that vampires largely functioned and behaved this way.”

Song Lan picked up on the operative word. “Largely?”

“I asked my shifu the same thing. We were told we’d learn more as we grew older and continued our training.” His already upset expression fell further. “I never found out what they meant before I left.”

“Xingchen.”

“And as we’ve been following this trail, and especially after last night,” Xiao Xingchen pushed on, “I’ve started to wonder if, possibly… there may be vampires that are different than the ones we’ve been fighting. Stronger. Smarter, somehow.”

“Xingchen,” Song Lan said, whipping around to face him and almost not believing the words he was hearing. “You’re only saying this now?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to worry you more—”

“You should have said something!” Song Lan exclaimed. “We could have talked through it together. We could have figured out what to do and planned instead of walking into this!”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

“When I said to say something if you felt like we were getting in over our heads, this is what I meant!”

He could see the hurt in Xiao Xingchen's eyes plain as day the more he raised his voice, and Song Lan hated the fact he'd allowed himself to lose his temper, but it was increasingly difficult to keep it under control when he felt like electrical currents were coiling up his arms. It wasn't the time to be angry, he knew it would put them at risk, but beneath the frustration at being kept out of the loop, there was also the sting of betrayal; that niggling thought that Xiao Xingchen did not deem him worthy of trust.

He had to breathe.

Xiao Xingchen had shrunken away from him, subtle as the shift was. He could not bring himself to meet Song Lan’s sharp gaze, instead keeping his own eyes cast downward toward the bloodstained earth.

“I’ve put us both in danger,” he said hollowly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing.” Song Lan watched Xiao Xingchen open his mouth before biting his lip, stifling yet another apology.

Song Lan took another deep breath, trying to collect himself. They could work through with their feelings later, after they had dealt with the immediate threat of their surroundings. He attempted to refocus on that.

“If what you're suspecting is true,” Song Lan tried to bring his voice back down to neutral, but a few trembles of anger still came through, “then all this time – right now – we've been lured into a trap—”

The sound of a breaking branch cracked across the clearing.

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, in instant tandem, drew their swords to face the threat.

“Who’s there?” Song Lan called, his grip tight on Fuxue’s hilt.

From behind one of the larger trees in the clearing, a shadow materialized, tall and slender. It held in its hand a large, dead tree branch, crushed in its fist; having captured the cultivators’ attention, the branch was tossed aside, its purpose achieved.

“An excellent deduction, gentlemen.” The warm voice rang out clear in the night. The figure moved toward them, pushing aside a hanging woman’s corpse in his path. Her body swung gently in the chill air. “And a valid concern.”

The stranger stepped closer, so graceful that he seemed to glide into the clearing, the underbrush barely even rustling below his feet. The figure’s skin was near-white, standing out like snow against the darkness of his robes. His fanged smile glinted whiter still. “But it’s a bit late to be of any real use, isn’t it?”

The vampire came to a stop a respectful distance in front of them – a good several steps outside of sword range – as Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stared, hackles raised.

“Xiao Xingchen Daozhang.” The vampire’s red-tinted eyes held no light as they bore into Xiao Xingchen’s, but his smile was warm. “Song Zichen Daozhang. How nice it is to finally meet.”

Dumbfounded, Xiao Xingchen’s eyes flickered up and down the vampire’s form, scrambling to comprehend it.

“Who are you?” Song Lan demanded.

The man before them cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been looking for a vampire, have you not?”

Song Lan glared icily. “Who are you?”

The vampire sighed. “Forgive me,” he said. One moment, he stood in front of them, several yards away, and the next, he was standing right beside Xiao Xingchen, startling him from his reverie. Song Lan stepped forward to intercede at the same time as Xiao Xingchen made to push back with Shuanghua, and as the vampire, instantaneously, caught and stopped his sword arm with alarming ease. “But could I ask you to guess first?”

“Guess?” Xiao Xingchen gasped, shocked by the vampire’s speed and the ironclad grip on his arm. Song Lan was a hair’s breadth away from making to cut the vampire’s arm clean off.

Before Song Lan’s better judgement ran out, however, the vampire released Xiao Xingchen. He took only one step away, apparently unbothered by the threat of their blades. Although he stood a hand’s width shorter than either of the younger daoshi, his presence still loomed. “You both have been following the trail I left for you for some time. With all the information you have now, I would imagine such esteemed young heroes as you might have some ideas as to who I might be…?”

Song Lan’s eyes didn’t leave the vampire’s face. He was still far too close to Xiao Xingchen. “What are you talking about?”

The vampire frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, addressing Song Lan. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about your training at… Baixue Temple, was it? Perhaps all this is… out of your scope.” His words were polite enough, but the dismissiveness they were just-so-subtly tinged with made Song Lan grit his teeth.

“But for you,” the vampire exclaimed, now training the full intensity of his stare on Xiao Xingchen in front of him. He began to pace around him, appraising the young man in white. “A student of Baoshan Sanren?” he purred, and if the vampire saw Xiao Xingchen flinch at the mention of his old master, he said nothing. He merely smiled. “Well. I’d expect you to be a bit quicker on the uptake, xiao shidi.”

Xiao Xingchen whirled his head around to meet the vampire’s gaze, eyes wide. What?

He had been studying this strange, new kind of vampire all this time, but he looked closely now at the man before him, at the features that defined him as an individual: the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, the curtain of his hair and the white lining of his robes. His was a face that would look kind, if not for the harsh gleam of his scarlet eyes and the pleasant smile that only just failed to reach them.

Xiao Xingchen did not recognize this man, but only one student of Baoshan Sanren’s had fallen so far from grace to be capable of the evils Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan had witnessed these last several weeks. Only one man, apart from Xiao Xingchen, had ever left her mountain for the mortal world below.

“Yanling Daoren?” Xiao Xingchen breathed in disbelief.

The vampire’s smile widened into a grin, and for the first time, something in his eyes seemed to spark. “Well done.”

Xiao Xingchen’s blood ran cold. His mind raced. No. How could this possibly be?

A vampire?

“Yanling Daoren,” Song Lan pronounced, “lived and died hundreds of years ago.” Fuxue, all this time, had stayed leveled at the vampire’s heart, and his words were just as steely as his blade. “The jianghu united against him and he was killed—”

“Come now,” the vampire interrupted. “You cannot blindly believe everything you’re told.” He cocked his head gently to one side, looking sympathetic. “After all this time you cannot truly believe that would have been enough to keep me down? What was it again – ‘killed under thousands of swords’? I've always liked that one. Inaccurate, but dramatic.”

His manner may have been mild, but he was alarmingly confident, monologuing with ease while his piercing gaze held both men in place. It was as if he knew neither would dare strike, but that, even if they did, he’d be able to fend for himself with ease.

Xiao Xingchen’s mind reeled. He thought about all he knew, about all he thought he knew. The story of Yanling Daoren, as taught on the mountain, was brief, and its purpose was a warning. It had never quite made sense to Xiao Xingchen how another student of his own shifu could enter into the mortal world and become both so powerful and so hated. But if, somewhere along the way, he had physically transformed to become a monster….

And if that monster truly had never died, and stood before them now….

Xiao Xingchen’s blood felt like solid ice his veins. He had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

What had he been thinking? How arrogant and overconfident he had been, assuming he could handle these vampire killings? He was standing face to face with one of the greatest villains the jianghu had ever seen, who wasn’t even human and was powerful in ways Xiao Xingchen could not begin to fathom. Song Lan was less than two strides away from the monster, his sword still trained at the vampire’s heart, as if it could make a difference, and it was all Xiao Xingchen’s fault.

“Xingchen,” Song Lan pressed, an angry edge to the word that Xiao Xingchen knew sometimes really meant concern, or even, on occasion, fear. It was also a question. Is this legitimate? Do we believe this?

Xiao Xingchen glanced away from the vampire in front of him – away from Yanling Daoren – to look at Song Lan. He was at once relieved to have him so near and terrified of what was about to happen to them both. “Yes,” he whispered. “I think it’s true.”

Song Lan’s eyes burned into his, holding onto his gaze and refusing to let go. The next question didn’t need words at all. What does this mean for us? And moreover, Can we win this?

Xiao Xingchen swallowed, and took in the sight of Song Lan beside him. The fierce furrow of his brow, the protectiveness of his stance, the unspoken promise that where Xiao Xingchen led, he would follow. Even after earlier – angry as he had been, Song Lan still wouldn't leave his side.

He cursed himself for leading them into this mess. He cursed himself for the harm that was going to come to Song Lan because of his arrogance.

Heart aching, Xiao Xingchen shook his head, the smallest of movements. No.

Song Lan didn't move. Just stared at Xiao Xingchen for moments that seemed like hours, as the vampire before them looked on curiously.

Finally, Song Lan closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, and set his lips into a thin line. When he opened his eyes again, there was a steel to them that made Xiao Xingchen’s stomach drop.

“Run,” Song Lan said quietly.

And in an instant, he was hurtling forward, sword drawn, striking out at the vampire before them as Xiao Xingchen looked on in horror.

“Zichen!”

Hesitation had a hefty price to pay, and Song Lan hadn’t wanted Xiao Xingchen to pay it. He’d needed to do something to break him out of his trance, even if said something was proving to be to his own detriment. He knew he'd not be able to take this vampire down alone, but he didn't have to – he only had to give Xiao Xingchen enough of a window to make his escape.

He hadn't anticipated the speed with which Yanling Daoren would react, though. The vampire had allowed him to get close enough to be in range, unflinching, and had then shot his arm out, snatching Song Lan up with such speed that he’d dropped Fuxue.

He held Song Lan aloft in the air by his throat. “You really are a bold one, aren’t you?” he said, mildly annoyed. “I was wondering which of you would be the one to make the first move.”

Behind him, Song Lan could hear Xiao Xingchen whimper weakly. Why was he still here? Why hadn't he run!? Couldn't he see this choice had already been made? What did he have to do to get Xiao Xingchen to safety?

“Go,” Song Lan spat.

The clawed fingers tensed around his windpipe, cutting the word short, and one brief movement away from crushing it like paper.

“STOP!”

The cry was loud enough that roosting birds elsewhere in the forest took for the skies. Xiao Xingchen had not moved from his spot, and his hands were trembling as they held onto Shuanghua like a lifeline, but his gaze burned into Yanling Daoren’s with frightening intensity. The vampire weakened his grip in response, yet not enough to let Song Lan break free, and raised a brow to let his junior know he was listening.

“You've been having us follow your trail for weeks and have lured us out here,” Xiao Xingchen began to speak quickly, his voice laced with fear, “only to taunt us now that you have us. You’ve gone through the trouble of engaging us in conversation. Are you really intent on killing us, or is there something more?”

Yanling Daoren's lips stretched into an amused smile. He lowered Song Lan a tad, but still did not release him. “You're very astute. I was beginning to doubt that, with as long as it took to get your attention. When I learned you were here in the mortal world, I wanted to meet you. But,” he admitted, “the truth is I haven't yet decided what it is I want to do with you. And by that I truly do mean you, shidi. This one has already given me all I need to know.”

He gave Song Lan a shake as if he were weightless, nothing more than a paper funerary mannequin, and in that moment, as their eyes met again, Song Lan saw the moonlight flash across Yanling Daoren’s pupils, in a way that felt strangely familiar – except there was no moon overhead.

Song Lan's own eyes closed in defeat as he realized how thoroughly they’d wandered into this trap.

Xiao Xingchen was quick to respond, even though he didn’t dare move, lest harm come to Song Lan. “If you let him go, I swear not to raise my sword towards you. I will allow whatever fate you deem fit to befall me, but you must let him go.”

Song Lan’s eyes shot back open. He tried to protest in horror, his hands clawing at the arm holding him up. Yanling Daoren, meanwhile, appeared pensive, but merely gave a light hum in response.

Xiao Xingchen could feel his knees start to buckle, but he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. Not until Song Lan was safe. If this didn’t work, he’d… He’d just find something else. “Please."

It took a few moments longer, but Yanling Daoren offered Xiao Xingchen a placid smile and a nod. “Very well. Come closer, then, and let’s discuss. I give you my word I'll release him.”

Xiao Xingchen didn’t care if the vampire was lying. Simply with being allowed closer, he’d have a chance at turning the situation around, and so, without hesitation, he took a stride forward.

“No,” Song Lan choked out. Why was Xiao Xingchen doing this? Why wasn’t he making a run for it? He could still save himself!

“Let him go now or I won’t come any closer,” Xiao Xingchen demanded, yet he kept his sword lowered. “Once you do, as an act of good will, I will sheathe my blade.”

“Such confidence,” Yanling Daoren drawled. So amused did he seem by this that he couldn’t help but throw his head back with a laugh. “But deal. He’s of no real use to me anyhow.”

No sooner had he said this, he tossed Song Lan aside with considerable force to send him tumbling through the grass a safe distance away. Of course, this was not out of any regard for his wellbeing, and, as the young man attempted to right himself while coughing profusely, the vampire closed the gap between himself and Xiao Xingchen to prevent him from running after his friend.

As soon as Song Lan got his bearings, he turned to plead with Xiao Xingchen not to do this, only to find that the moment he rose to stand, a barrier shot up from the ground to encase his friend and their tormentor within, rising with the lightest flick of the vampire’s wrist. Iridescent and translucent, it blocked out all sound within, and its presence now amplified the static charge in the air.

Fuxue still lay near the vampire’s feet, but Song Lan charged at the barrier instinctively, pulling out his fuchen to deliver blow after futile blow. After his fifth strike, the barrier repelled his weapon, sending it flying somewhere into the bushes. He neglected to chase after it, instead ready to pound it with his fists, but as soon as his skin made contact, a tremendous wave of electricity encased his body to deliver a devastating shock.

The buzzing of the barrier caused Xiao Xingchen to break away from Yanling Daoren’s hypnotic gaze. He whipped around to see Song Lan on the ground, convulsing as blood poured from his mouth and nose.

“Zichen!” He cried helplessly, his attempt to rush over thwarted by the vampire harshly grabbing his wrist. “You gave me your word!”

“Ah, ah. I gave my word to release him,” Yanling Daoren shook his head with a wild glint in his eye. “I never said he’d be unharmed. Besides…”

Song Lan's body had finally stilled, yet his unfocused eyes were still attempting to look around.

“He did that to himself.”

Still within the vampire’s grip, Xiao Xingchen fell to his knees. His body slumped forward, head bowed in dismay. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend all of this was just a bad dream, but he couldn't look away from Song Lan. He could feel tears begin to blur his vision, yet didn’t dare blink them away.

“Now, now,” Yanling Daoren spoke softly as he bent over beside him. His hold had begun to loosen. “It’s not so bad, is it? He’s still alive, as are you. No tragedy has occurred.”

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes remained affixed to his friend, but in truth, his mind could barely process what he was looking at.

“It doesn't all have to be terrible, shidi. You’re skilled. You’re bright. I like you. You said you’d accept whichever fate befell you, yes?” Yanling Daoren crouched down to speak beside his ear. “What do you think I could have in mind for you?”

At that, Xiao Xingchen took a sharp intake of breath and snapped his head to meet the vampire’s expectant smile. He shakily rose to his feet, even though the time to run away had long passed. “You want….”

“I know it seems a little frightening, but oh, if only you knew just how good it feels,” Yanling Daoren curled his free hand into a fist. “How much power you could have. No more lives lost because you moved too slow or weren’t strong enough. No more begging the cultivation clans for help that will never come. Think of the changes you could make to this world.”

Xiao Xingchen shook his head, as if that could clear it of the vampire’s unsettling words. “I don't want power, I only….” Xiao Xingchen swallowed thickly and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder.

Yanling Daoren did not miss it. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word?” Yanling Daoren’s cold grip on him tightened again, though his face remained calm. Xiao Xingchen was sure he could feel how much he was shivering.

Of course he wanted to go back on his word. More than that, he wanted to go back in time, to when he and Song Lan had no knowledge of the attacks that led them here in the first place.

Yanling Daoren watched Xiao Xingchen hesitate. “Shidi,” he said quietly. “Patience has never been one of my great strengths.”

He flicked his wrist, sending another burst of energy erupting from the barrier around them, and Song Lan, otherwise nonresponsive, cried out in pain.

“Stop!” Xiao Xingchen shouted.

“I’ll ask you again,” Yanling Daoren urged gently, as Song Lan continued to scream. “Are you going back on your word?”

With Song Lan’s life hanging in the balance, what else could Xiao Xingchen possibly say? “No,” Xiao Xingchen whispered. “Do what you want with me.”

Song Lan forced his eyes open through the searing pain taking over his body. Beyond the barrier, he could see Xiao Xingchen facing Yanling Daoren head on, and the vampire leaning in closer to him.

No, he thought, not him. Please, please, not him.

His exhaustion closed his eyes against his will. When he managed to open them again, Yanling Daoren's mouth was already to his best friend’s neck.

Please, I beg of you, I cannot harm him, I cannot burn his body, he must live, Xingchen must live—

He wearily held out his arm towards the barrier, his trembling hand extended towards the nightmare playing out before him. Blood threatened to choke him as another shock coursed through his veins and aimed straight for his heart.

Everything went black.

***

When he came to, the barrier was gone, and Yanling Daoren with it. Song Lan still felt immense pain, as his insides had been fried, but as soon as he saw that Xiao Xingchen was still here in the clearing, collapsed on the ground in front of him, he pushed past all he was feeling in order to crawl towards him.

“Xing… chen….” His words were slurred, and hoarse from shouting, but if there was any chance his friend was still alive, he’d say his name a thousand times. "Xingchen…"

Xiao Xingchen did not respond. He appeared paler than usual, with dried blood encrusted around his mouth – had he been shocked the same way? – and staining the shoulder of his robes. Song Lan reached out to him and pushed his hair away, revealing two clean puncture marks on his neck. A cold fear washed over him, but quickly gave way to deep sorrow.

Xiao Xingchen had not been drained. This could only mean one thing.

Keeping his hand to his friend’s cold skin, Song Lan lay himself down beside him and wept.

When he came to, Song Lan wanted to be the first thing he saw. He wanted to apologize to him, even if Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t be able to understand it. He wanted one last moment in which the two of them were together.

But Xiao Xingchen did not come to. Song Lan could still feel spiritual energy coursing through him, warped as it may be, so he knew he wasn’t gone. This began to feed into his hope that, perhaps, his transformation could still be turned around. Perhaps there was still something he could do to save him.

With the sky beginning to lighten, he knew he didn’t have much time. He had to take Xiao Xingchen somewhere safe, first and foremost, and then he could go from there once he knew he was no longer at risk of going up in flames. If the encounter with Yanling Daoren had told him anything, little as he’d managed to actually hear, it was that there was a very high chance he was not done with his shidi.

Take Xiao Xingchen somewhere safe. Keep him out of the sun. That was something he could do. All the rest of this horrible, sprawling mess, he would deal with later, one step at a time.

Xiao Xingchen was dreadfully pale where he lay on the ground. His soft skin was too cool to the touch, and perhaps it was the shadows thrown by the forest around them, but his expression looked subtly pained.

The branches still creaked under the weight of the hanging corpses. Song Lan would have to cut them down later, but right now, he could only focus on the man in front of him.

“Hang on, Xingchen,” he whispered as he hoisted his unconscious friend into his arms. “I’ll find a way to fix this.”

The corpses continued to eerily sway in the breeze as Song Lan left the clearing behind.