Chapter Text
Zhuo Yichen, don’t forget. At the final moment, your Cloud Light Sword can kill him. I look forward to your decision.
The bearer of the Cloud Light Sword has never been afraid to accept the fact that he is greatly flawed as a person; recklessness being one that holds the greatest possibility of getting him killed.
However, indecisiveness is not something he counts amongst his many failings.
Never have his thighs ached as they ache now; barely holding his body upright as he crouches behind Zhao Yuan Zhou; each breath more ragged than the last.
The Cloud Light Sword trembles in his hand, blood-coated fingers frozen upon the carved hilt.
The sky- a monstrously vivid vermilion-screams its displeasure at the electric blue of his blade.
The infinite malevolence of the netherworld momentarily thwarted by an ancient piece of steel.
The strike, manoeuvred towards his shoulder, though painful; had done what was needed.
Zhuo Yichen feels the tiniest sliver of treacherous hope alight in his chest as the Demon shakes; consciousness trembling at the edges of the fiery haze of malicious energy that continues to converge upon his frame.
I hope I don’t have to kill you today.
The half-hearted lie he tells himself falls short before the uncompromising lesson of honesty he has been raised upon.
I don’t want to kill you. Not today. Not any other day.
The Great Demon, though he claims to have the ability to hear every whisper within a thousand miles, is vastly incapable of hearing Zhuo Yichen’s most desperate wish.
“Ying Zhao, do it now. Kill me!”
Zhuo Yichen feels the blood freeze in his meridians as the hoarse death-wish echoes in the fog of crimson enveloping them all mercilessly.
You really are a stupid monkey, aren’t you?
Zhuo Yichen grits his teeth, the agony of impending doom pounding in his ears louder than his racing heart.
My divine power is nearly depleted. I hope that the last bit of my power will be of use to you all.
The Mountain God; ancient, frail, beloved; smiles at the one begging for death sadly.
And Zhuo Yichen; young, hotheaded, vengeful; understands what is about to happen a moment before it does.
“Boy, Grandpa has to leave now.”
The mournful whisper of the benevolent immortal echoes heavily in the air thick with malice.
Ying Lei. This is for Ying Lei.
The lie bounces off the edge of his sword as easily as the muscles in his calves propel him upwards and forwards, landing between the dazed demon and the determined mountain god.
“Xiao Zhuo, no!”
Perhaps for the first time since he’s come to love her, Zhuo Yichen is deaf to Wen Xiao’s horrified shriek.
It really does hurt.
The thought-delirious, dull, useless- dissolves as fast as it forms in his mind.
He flinches reflexively as blood-warm, human-spurts out of the deep cut on his wrist-splattering on his face and robes.
The warmth fades faster than he had thought possible, as he channels Bingyi’s power-the fiery river of red crystallising to icy shards of ancestral righteousness.
Wake up, you idiot!
The Sword slips from his hand, cold seeping into his veins even as his muscles tighten around the wound, frantically trying to close the fatal wound.
His vision has already begun to go dark before the sky drenches the Great Demon in icy rain-a downpour of blood not water.
Drenching him in life instead of death.
“Zhuo-daren!”
The frantic screech is accompanied by a warm body catching his own, the fur on his collar tickling his throat.
“Xiao Zhuo! Don’t close your eyes!”
Zhuo Yichen hisses in pain as Ying Lei grasps his bleeding wrist, pressing on the arteries that are still leaking life from his body.
I already lost my family. I do not want you to lose yours.
Turning his head is an act of courage, as numbness floods his muscles, eyes struggling against death-weighted lids.
Don’t resent me too much, if I can’t fulfil my promise.
His rapidly fading vision meets Zhu Yan’s-no-Zhao Yuan Zhou’s; relief spreading in his slowing heartbeat as the crazed crimson returns to the usual warm auburn.
The thought of imminent oblivion brushes away the lies from his heart.
Blood runs down Zhao Yuan Zhou’s face, dripping down his sculpted jawline onto his lavishly gilded robes.
The white inner robes peeking under the dark outer ones are already soaked scarlet, staining his neck and chest with blood.
His blood.
You really are…beautiful.
The mountain though, does not revel in the Great Demon’s beauty. The temple bells, that had stood silent as evil devoured the White Ape Demon begin to toll uncontrollably-the clang of death unbearably loud in the frigid winter air.
A hint of unease runs through his faint pulse as the relief in Zhao Yuan Zhou’s eyes changes to horror. The momentary reprieve from his inadvertent loss of control transforming to terror as his eyes lock onto Zhuo Yichen’s bloodless face.
“Seal.”
Zhuo Yichen feels the flood of divine energy rushing past his exhausted body as the Mountain God ultimately tears the veil of shock his hasty action has covered them all in, a magical containment spell suppressing the last of the malicious energy in Zhao Yuan Zhou’s body.
Ying Zhao Daren, I suppose my hatred was not as hard to quell as you believed. You told me he did not have a choice.
But I did.
Blood spurts from the Mountain Gods' mouth, immortal power depleted as the hurricane of malicious energy resists the divine seal.
Zhao Yuan Zhou, your Yeye loves walnuts.
Zhuo Yichen’s eyes fall shut despite Ying Lei’s teary pleas, the cold seeping into his bones now immaterial as a pervasive numbness replaces all sensation.
Li Lun, you made your choice. And this was mine.