Chapter Text
“Great. Now what?!”
Xie Lian had no answer.
The South had seen mild unrest recently, and thus, the temples of Nan Yang and Xuan Zhen had been swamped with prayers. After all, in times of civil strife, when people fall to their ends like dominoes, ghosts rise and attack.
Mortal matters were not the headaches of the two generals. However, ghost attacks were most certainly under their jurisdiction, and with so many sightings reported and all these people praying so hard… Feng Xin and Mu Qing soon found themselves running all over the place.
It did not help that several prayers came from the bordering areas between the south-west and the south-east. This meant that in order to prevent conflict, the two of them had to work together.
However, Feng Xin and Mu Qing in one team have always implied the opposite of ‘preventing conflict’.
The two often beat each other up before a ghost could even attempt an attack. In fact, there were plenty of cases when the offending spirits would just give up and hand themselves over, simply because they could no longer stand the generals’ screeching.
In the end, Ling Wen ordered that they needed to work with a third, less busy individual, who could assist them. By ‘assist’, she mostly meant, ‘keep them from each other’s throats’.
And that was how the ex-martial god of the south, The Scrap Immortal Xie Lian, ended up reuniting with his former deputies yet again.
Hua Cheng had plenty of objections, but when Xie Lian himself offered to help despite his chiding, the Ghost King had no choice but to back off, though not without a glare cast in Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s direction.
Things had started quite smoothly, though Xie Lian did return home every night with a throbbing headache after judging and mediating for hours on end. It was nothing to which he wasn’t accustomed.
This current predicament, though… the trio seemed to be in quite the pickle.
Strangely enough, it seemed that their teleportation arrays had been malfunctioning. Either that, or the three of them had collectively forgotten how to draw them properly.
Xie Lian had drawn one first, to get them to a village in Feng Xin’s jurisdiction. Instead, they ended up at Puqi Shrine.
Mu Qing had rolled his eyes, calling His Highness a “sentimental idiot” with “nothing but ‘that red ghost’ in mind”, before drawing a teleportation array that led them to Mei Nianqing’s poker cave at Mount Tonglu.
After having a table of cards flipped in their faces, Feng Xin made it a point to cuss Mu Qing out as vilely as possible before smugly drawing his own teleportation array, which led them to where they are now.
A mountain peak on Mount Tonglu.
“You moron, we’re still at Tonglu!” Mu Qing snarled, though there was certainly a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice at having Feng Xin mess up so royally.
“Shut the f[...] up. It’s not like you did much better!” Feng Xin retorted.
Xie Lian opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Mu Qing and Feng Xin began yelling over each other. At this point, mediating would be fruitless.
At least, that was what he thought, until he realised they were still atop a snow-capped mountain.
“Feng Xin– Mu Qing– please, let’s not—”
The screaming grew louder.
“You’re going to cause another avalanche!”
Xie Lian had raised his voice just enough to be heard, and had successfully caught the two generals’ attention.
They had learned after the last time they’d gone all out on a snowy mountain that loud noises tended to have mildly disastrous results.
Nevertheless, their grumbling continued, though both had quieted down.
“Let’s focus on getting off the mountain,” Xie Lian said. “We can point fingers later.”
Feng Xin and Mu Qing both gave hesitant nods. Mu Qing moved to take a step.
“Careful!”
Xie Lian was quick to move, grabbing Mu Qing’s arm before he fell through a hole in the ground.
Of course, Xie Lian mused to himself. San Lang had warned him the last time they were here; there were holes beneath the snow.
Back then, Hua Cheng had safely guided Xie Lian up the mountains. Now, without a guide, the three of them would be walking around through what was essentially a path full of snares.
“I could’ve handled that myself,” Mu Qing said with a huff once he’d been dragged out, before adding, stiffly, under his breath, “...thank you.”
Xie Lian knew that was about as good a show of gratitude as he’d ever get from Mu Qing. So he smiled softly in his direction.
Feng Xin snorted, clearly tempted to make a jab, maybe bring up the “f-f-friend” thing again, but a warning look from Xie Lian reminded him that they’d be wasting time if they started another fight.
“Great. So now, how the hell are we getting down when the ground wants to swallow us whole?”
Xie Lian frowned a bit, pondering over the situation. Feng Xin continued, thinking aloud, “We could feel the ground with our swords before stepping.”
“Wonderful,” Mu Qing said, rolling his eyes. Again. “Let’s just spend the next three days on this mountain poking the ground.”
“If you’re such a f[...]ing genius, why don’t you come up with something better?!”
Mu Qing opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by Xie Lian.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s spend some more time thinking rather than arguing, alright?”
“Well, we can’t just go sledding down the mountain on our swords, can we?!” Feng Xin said.
It was more of an exasperated comment than a real suggestion, but it got Xie Lian thinking.
“Dianxia? Dianxia, the hilts would get stuck in the snow, we can’t– Dianxia, what’s with the look?”
Feng Xin seemed to grow more and more concerned as the pensive expression grew on Xie Lian’s face.
Then, much to his and Mu Qing’s surprise, Xie Lian reached into his sleeves and pulled out two planks of wood.
“What the f[...]? How did those fit in–?”
“Of course you just carry planks in your sleeves,” Mu Qing muttered with a sigh.
After all, though Xie Lian’s martial prowess was certainly commendable, he was still the god of scrap-collecting. And thus, his Qiankun sleeves were perhaps home to a vast assortment of junk that no one else even thought of touching.
For Xie Lian’s own part, he’d collected the wood so he could help Banyue finish the small house she was building for her snakes— a joint project that they’d been working on together for fun in their spare time.
While the planks were not particularly large, they were still quite sturdy, and if stuck together, they’d be just big enough for three martial gods to fit on if they lay down flat.
“Dianxia,” Feng Xin tried one more time, hoping to talk some sense into the prince.
Too late.
“Ruoye,” Xie Lian called out.
The silk ribbon shot out, wrapping itself around the two planks before it, leaving its two ends free to help steer their makeshift sled.
Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing knew that once the ‘woeful band’ had been summoned, there was no getting out of this.
After much fighting, pushing, pulling, groaning, moaning— and Feng Xin and Mu Qing successfully sending each other tumbling down the slope before Xie Lian miraculously rescued them both— the three finally managed to squeeze onto the small sled.
Xie Lian and Mu Qing lay on their stomachs, each with one strand of Ruoye in one hand, and one of Feng Xin’s ankles in the other– for the third was lying between them on his back with no support to hold and would otherwise go flying the moment they picked up speed.
“Alright, is everyone ready?” Xie Lian asked, mostly out of formality.
“No,” Feng Xin and Mu Qing said in unison, for once agreeing on something.
“Okay, three… two… one!”
Xie Lian pushed the ground with his sword and sent them sledding down.
It had been a while since the three of them sledded together. The last time they’d done this was back in Xianle, and even then, they weren’t quite on a slope this high. Not to mention, they each had their own sled.
This loss of habit is what Mu Qing and Feng Xin would probably blame for the shrill screams they let out against the wind that almost popped Xie Lian’s eardrums.
Xie Lian himself would have screamed, had he not received a mouthful of snow the moment he dared to open his mouth.
Mu Qing struggled to keep his eyes open against the biting wind hitting them square in the face. He still managed to steer, somehow, but Xie Lian was quite convinced Ruoye was making up for the errors that the two drivers were making. Otherwise, they probably should’ve swerved into a rock by now.
He briefly thought he heard Feng Xin mumbling a prayer. While the irony was not lost on him, Xie Lian did feel a small pang of pity. Feng Xin had, after all, placed his trust in his arch nemesis and a scrap-collector to keep him from getting launched towards paradise or steered into an abyss. And it’s not like keeping a hold on Feng Xin’s ankles was Mu Qing’s top priority.
Xie Lian was about to call out a word of reassurance, but he froze, though not because of the wind.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he ducked his head down as low as possible, barely missing a spear that had been sent flying towards their sled.
Fortunately, Mu Qing and Feng Xin had noticed in time as well.
In an instant, a bow had materialised in Feng Xin’s hands, as he sent an arrow flying in the direction from which the spear came.
There was a loud screech from the distance, though there was no one in sight…
“WHAT THE F[...]?!” Feng Xin yelled out over the wind. “ARE GHOSTS NORMALLY HERE THIS TIME OF YEAR?!”
“SHUT UP AND KEEP YOUR GUARD UP!”
Mu Qing didn’t need to tell Feng Xin twice. Previous discomfort forgotten, Feng Xin was vigilant as ever through the wind and snow, bow poised and ready to shoot at any second.
Xie Lian wanted to reach for his sword, but both his hands were occupied. Mu Qing was in a similar state. Meanwhile, Feng Xin had already shot at a ghost that launched itself at their sled.
Based on the killing intent he sensed in the air, Xie Lian realised there were more ghosts around. Several, and no lower than a ‘Menace’ rank at least.
Feng Xin had a point… had Tonglu opened recently, Xie Lian would’ve noticed. After all, Hua Cheng would have been in agony, and the other ghosts in Ghost City would’ve been shrieking and screeching through the night as their spiritual energy would be in turmoil. And since Bai Wuxiang’s arrest… the Kiln isn’t supposed to open at all.
As for entering Tonglu regardless of its opening… there was hardly a point. And with the mountains, Old Age, Sickness and Death running around, the odds were you would get horribly lost or maybe even killed.
So why would– not just one, but– so many ghosts risk their undead lives by coming out here when there is nothing to win?
“FENG XIN!” Xie Lian called over the wind. “DON’T SHOOT UNLESS—”
He was cut off by another mouthful of snow. Just his luck.
Feng Xin seemed to understand regardless, though Mu Qing decided to spell it out just in case.
“DON’T SHOOT UNLESS ATTACKED!”
After all, unoffending ghosts in Mount Tonglu who were unrelated to any heavenly issues had every right to be there, and the last thing the heavens needed was a scandal regarding ghost-murder.
As they neared the ground, Xie Lian could hear much clamouring over the sounds of whipping wind. Shrieking, crying, wailing, laughter…
Xie Lian squinted through the wind hitting his eyes and— oh dear gods.
At the base of the mountain was what could only be described as a sea of ghosts of all types, shapes and sizes.
And they were all looking up at the sledge sliding down the mountain.
Mu Qing glanced at Xie Lian through the corner of his eye. Xie Lian nodded, squeezing Feng Xin’s ankle as a warning.
“COUNT OF THREE!” Xie Lian called out.
One…
Two…
Three!
The trio abandoned ship, leaping off the sled as it went, bounding down towards the crowd below, and crashing into a nearby tree.