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For those who have grown accustomed to the darkness, it takes time to adapt to the light.
Some would rejoice at the moment their eyes finally beheld the sun’s golden rays. Others would shrink away as if they had been burned, unused to its radiance. Still others would find it difficult to comprehend, and keep their eyes closed, unable to break free from the shadows that still clung to the back of their minds.
When the Lord of Stone returned from the battlefield one day carrying in his arms a young man with wounds on his back and the marks of now-broken shackles around his wrists, to say that his companions were surprised would have been an understatement.
Not because it was strange for him to care for the wounded and downtrodden— on the contrary, there were plenty of those within the ranks of the Adepti who had taken hold of his gold-marked hand and been pulled from desolations of their own.
It was strange because this particular young adeptus was the same one that had attempted to assassinate him at the height of his campaign against the Lord of Nightmares.
Yanwang Dijun may be a benevolent ruler, but even the most benevolent and merciful might think it foolish to pardon one who had made such an attempt— much less bring that person to his side and carry him in his arms. His companions had a great many questions, but they would receive answers to none of them.
Instead, he simply placed the young adeptus into two of Fushe’s four arms and a golden sigil into another.
“His name is Xiao,” he said. “Take him to my abode in Jueyun. Tell the Adepti gathered there to keep a careful watch on the horizon. ”
That was all that he said— for the battlefield stretched on ahead, and the Lord of Nightmares yet lived, and neither Xiao nor the people of the Guili Plains would be safe until she had fallen.
A month later, Yanwang Dijun and the Adepti who had accompanied him to war returned. Jade-tipped arrows were cleaned of blood and returned to his waijing vault. The land, along with the gods who ruled it, settled into one of those rare, precious moments of peace as their renown spread again throughout the surrounding regions, the news of that bloody battle and its outcome leaving the gods of the surrounding regions once more hesitant to face the Lord of Stone.
Though… demon gods seemed to have rather short memories. Zhongli could not help but sigh to himself as he lifted his golden gaze toward the distant stone spires wreathed in cloud.
Before returning to the Guili Plains, he first went to Jueyun.
As his feet touched down upon a secluded mountain peak, another set of footsteps approached, light and delicate, sounding almost like faintly ringing bells.
“You’ve returned,” the silver-haired goddess smiled as she approached, her long sleeves rippling in the breeze. “I thought I could smell blood and smoke on the air…”
Zhongli furrowed his brow. “I made certain to wash the blood from my hands before I entered Jueyun,” he said.
Guizhong laughed lightly in response. “I’m only teasing, A-Li,” she said, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind his ear.
Her own hands were hardly clean, stained and darkened with ink and graphite. The stone table nearby was strewn about with blueprints in varying levels of completion, and a partially-constructed model of some new mechanism was sitting beside them.
“When Fushe arrived with that child, I decided to stay here and wait for you… to make sure that he was settled in properly,” she went on, then her smile faded, a hint of concern creeping into her expression. “He told me that there was an assassination attempt, and that child was the one who carried it out…”
It was a rare occurrence that any foe even came close to laying a blow upon him. Not only was Zhongli himself a formidable opponent, all but unmatched in single combat, but also because to even get near him, one would have to go through the Adepti— including the formidable Yaksha, who stood beside him as his personal guards on the battlefield. This case was an exception— it was only because the one who attacked him was the “Devourer of Dreams,” the Lord of Nightmares’ servant. He had entered Zhongli’s consciousness while he sat in meditation to prepare for battle, drawing him into slumber in an attempt to destroy him from within.
The Devourer of Dreams had already attacked the consciousness of the Qianyan soldiers by that point several times, though the Shoumeng Elixir that Zhongli had distributed among them seemed to have prevented any further damage. Zhongli hadn’t expected such a brazen move from his opponent, though, to attack him directly. When that young adeptus had invaded his mind, whose eyes shone blood-red, whose behavior resembled more a starved and maddened hound than a fearsome warrior, Zhongli had recognized the marks of enslavement upon his mind and body— and after bringing him to clarity, offered him a choice.
In the days that followed, he tracked down the place where the Devourer of Dreams was kept and freed him from his cage, casting a temporary shield about his body and mind and giving him a new name to hide behind, to free him from his master’s shackles. Of course, Zhongli knew that such measures could not hold out forever so long as his master still lived, so he treated Xiao’s wounds and sent him to Jueyun, the refuge of the Adepti, where none could enter against their will.
He knew Guizhong was there, and he had expected that Fushe would inform her of what had happened on the battlefield— and it was only natural that she would be concerned to learn that her all-but-invincible companion had actually been attacked by the very being now resting within his own home.
“He was acting under the orders of the Lord of Nightmares at the time,” he told her. “It was not by that child’s own will, nor by any contract— rather, he had simply been subjugated, his abilities seized for her own purposes.”
He thought of the way he had found Xiao, with heavy chains biting into his skin, marred up and down with lashes, as he lay in a pool of sticky blood that ran endlessly from the wounds in his back where his wings had been torn away. No doubt, it was punishment for failing in his assassination attempt… but the Devourer of Dreams was not unused to such things.
The corner of Guizhong’s lips turned up into a faint smile.
“I’ve checked on his condition a few times. He was unconscious for several days, but he seems to be stable, if nothing else,” she said. “Though… he’s taken to hiding away behind some of your stone columns any time I come in, and he doesn’t touch the food I bring him. I think he may be afraid of me.”
Zhongli wondered how anyone could be afraid of Guizhong.
But… then again, perhaps true kindness would seem suspicious to one who did not know such a thing existed.
He nodded. “I will see him now. Perhaps, now that his old master is dead, he will be able to break free from his fear.”
“Perhaps,” Guizhong replied, “but you and I both know that stone walls do not so easily crumble.”
“Mn.”
Zhongli reached up, placing his hand against the sealed gate of his abode. Its inscriptions flickered briefly, then the space around him distorted, and he stepped inside.
Within was a stone cavern, shining with Cor Lapis and burnished gold. The fragrance of sandalwood and incense hung in the air, and Zhongli traversed the silent, tranquil corridors until he came to a smaller chamber, within which was a large stone bed lined with rosy clouds.
He had originally created a place for himself to rest, but in the end there was rarely an occasion to make use of it. Fortunately, there were others who could benefit from a peaceful slumber surrounded by the safety of stone.
When Zhongli entered the chamber, though, the bed was empty, with only a trail of blood drops along the floor to indicate where its former occupant had fled. In the corner of the chamber, tucked away behind a pillar of stone, Xiao was in much the same sort of position as he had been when Zhongli found him in the waking world— curled up with his arms around his knees, his hair messy and his eyes flitting about and his teeth sharpened into fangs. The difference now, though, was that there were no longer heavy chains binding him, though their marks persisted, and that his body was wrapped in lengths of bandage, stained in a few places with blood.
Zhongli approached, then stopped a few steps away.
“Xiao,” he said.
The young adeptus’ unsteady gaze slowly cleared as he raised his head, looking up at the hand that Zhongli had extended toward him.
“You must rest,” Zhongli went on, “but it would be far more comfortable to rest in the bed.”
Xiao looked surprised, then confused, then ashamed, his shoulders hunching slightly.
“I…” he began, his voice hoarse, trailing off before he could say anything more.
“Have you considered the offer I made you?” Zhongli asked, lowering his voice slightly.
Xiao looked up at him, then nodded his head. He pushed himself up slightly, still not taking Zhongli’s hand as he moved to his knees, his head lowered.
“Dijun saved my life,” he murmured. “So… of course, I will serve him willingly. All of my power belongs to Dijun now, to use as he sees fit.”
Zhongli frowned as he watched that bowed head, those shoulders slightly trembling despite Xiao’s best efforts. He sighed softly, shaking his head as golden eyes fluttered closed.
“If you wish to repay your debt, then I will allow you to follow me into battle,” he said. “The power you hold, the strength that has been used to destroy lives, will now be used to safeguard them. You will be the terrible Devourer of Dreams no more, but the one who slays nightmares. Rise, and lift your head. You may freely meet my gaze.”
Very slowly, Xiao did as he was told, his pupils wavering slightly, shoulders tense as though he was prepared to flinch away at any moment.
“I do not wish for any of those who serve me to do so out of fear,” Zhongli told him then. “You are no exception. I will not entrap you in deception, nor delight in your suffering. Rather, I shall guide you in honing your strength, and your existence will no longer be defined by terror, but by courage. So long as you abide by the contract, there is no need to fear any retaliation, and your past shall not be held against you.”
Thus, Xiao came to join the Adepti of Jueyun Karst.
His body recovered swiftly from its wounds, though the darkness of his past still lingered in the corners of his mind, and he became like a shadow at Zhongli’s side. He trained alongside his new master among the cloud-wreathed spires. He learned to practice the Adeptal arts, to temper his mind and body, and to wield the spear with deadly precision, all under the watch of those calm, steady golden eyes, which turned from intimidating to familiar as the days went by.
One day, after winter’s coldest days had passed. Zhongli returned to Jueyun after spending some time in the plains below, inspecting fortifications, managing trade, and overseeing the training of the newest Qianyan recruits.
During his absence, he had left Xiao in the care of the Guardian Yaksha. Xiao seemed to adapt to their company more easily than others— but that was hardly surprising. The lofty Adepti of the mountain peaks carried themselves with tranquility he knew little of, while the Yaksha were fierce warriors, familiar with bloodshed, disciplined yet relaxed and comfortable among their own. Perhaps even more significantly, though, each of them, when they had come to stand under Yanwang Dijun’s banner, carried great regrets. It was because of these regrets that they took on the most dangerous task among the Adepti— donning the mask of the Yaksha and standing aside their lord as he slayed gods, and eliminating the demons that arose from their lingering hatred in the aftermath.
Looking down upon the group as they carried out a training exercise along with Xiao, Zhongli wondered how well they would face the years to come. Already they carried heavy burdens, and those burdens would only grow heavier still under the weight of this seemingly endless war.
With a flash of golden light, he descended from the mountaintop, landing at the edge of the training grounds. Immediately, the four Yaksha paused, cupping their hands in greeting. Xiao followed suit.
“How is Xiao’s training progressing?” he asked Fushe, after returning their greeting.
“Very well, Dijun,” Fushe replied. “He learns quickly, and is naturally talented”
Zhongli nodded his head. “I observed your practice for some time. Perhaps there is something that Xiao wishes to discuss with me?”
Xiao looked up, brows raised slightly, then nodded his head.
“I… wish to join the Guardian Yaksha,” he said. ”Da-yuanshuai has already agreed. I only await Dijun’s permission.”
“This little one works well with us, and we’ve grown fond of him,” Fushe went on.
“I see. And have you spoken to him of the responsibilities and burdens that come with such a role?” Zhongli inquired.
The truth was, he was not surprised in the least.
After all, this was the conclusion that he had been deliberately urging Xiao towards, and the reason why he had introduced him to the Guardian Yaksha to begin with. As he was, Xiao was ill-suited for a life of peace, having known only brutality and war in the past. He needed a foe to fight, a purpose to fulfill… and a burden to carry that would replace his own transgressions. Perhaps things would change in the centuries to come… but that was a matter for the unknown future to answer, and it had not yet arrived.
However, Zhongli would not impose his own will to place this burden on Xiao’s shoulders. Just as the other Yaksha that came before him, it must be a choice made by the one who wears the mask. How could they stand firm against the hatred and resentment of the gods their master had slain, if they themselves had cause to resent him?
Thus, it was better to guide Xiao a bit more indirectly, and it seemed that he had followed the path that Zhongli had predicted.
“I know the danger that I will face, and the karma I will have to suffer,” Xiao replied. “Thanks to Dijun’s mercy, I am alive today. It is a small price to pay in return.”
Would he still feel the same way in the future, as the thorns embedded themselves ever more deeply into his flesh?
It couldn’t be helped— but there was still one more thing to do before granting his request.
“Come with me, Xiao,” Zhongli said. “Before you put on the mask of a Yaksha, you must first come to know what it is you will be protecting.”
The most important part of all: that the Yaksha did not guard the plains only out of loyalty to their lord, but also a love for humanity.
Yingda placed a hand on Xiao’s shoulder, gently pushing him forward. “Go on, Xiao-Jinpeng,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about the people— you’ll be by Dijun’s side the whole time.”
Xiao glanced up at her, then back toward Zhongli, and nodded his head.
So, for the first time since his rescue, Xiao descended from the secluded peaks of Jueyun.
Zhongli could practically feel the uncertainty rippling off of him as they followed paths and roads to the lantern-lit city amid the plains. Guizhong met them at the city gates, smiling as her sleeves fluttered in the cold breeze, a half-finished skewer of tanghulu in hand.
“A-Li, you’re finally here— and you brought A-Xiao too!” she said, waving at the young adeptus at Zhongli’s side.
Xiao simply bowed his head— after all, he’d only met Guizhong a few times before, briefly, and anyone who spoke to Dijun so familiarly was certainly someone whose eyes he did not dare to meet.
“There should still be some time before we release the lanterns,” Zhongli said, “I would like to introduce Xiao to the city and its people.”
“I see,” Guizhong nodded. “Then, shall I accompany you?”
“That would be most appreciated.”
Guizhong was known to walk among her people as easily as if she were one of them, so there was little surprise from the merchants and craftsmen and people in the festive streets to see her there. Zhongli, however, was not so personable— seeing that the Lord of Stone had descended to walk among them, the people made a point to greet him, some reverently bowing their heads, others eagerly offering various samples of food and drink and trinkets. Some of these, after inspecting them, Zhongli offered to Xiao, who stared wide eyed, then only after the god’s insistence did he accept them. One such gift was a plate of almond tofu— and upon seeing the way that Xiao’s eyes seemed to light up at the taste, both Zhongli and Guizhong insisted he take the whole plate for himself.
“Here, have this,” Guizhong called out from a few stalls down, holding out a small paper figure of bird on a stick decorated with delicate golden accents, whose wings fluttered in the air when waving it around. She came back to Zhongli and Xiao and offered the figure to the young adeptus.
Before Xiao could protest, the sound of a qin’s strings echoed through the air, and a hush fell across the crowd. In the center of the square, a blue luan descended from the sky, feathers whirling in the breeze as it changed into the form of a young woman with blue-grey hair, whose fingers danced across the strings, resonant melodies filling the air.
“She is Gechen Langshi-zhenjun. A disciple of mine, a senior of yours,” Zhongli murmured to Xiao. “Her musical talent is unsurpassed among the Adepti.”
Gechen’s performance was enough to cause all those gathered around to listen in silence, and all about the city and the surrounding plains, the glaze lilies blossomed in the moonlight, spreading their sweet fragrance throughout the night. The moon’s silvery light was joined with a warm amber glow as one by one, the people in the square released the lanterns they were holding, a murmuring whisper of blessings moving through the crowd. Zhongli raised his head, watching the lanterns float into the sky. He gazed up at the moon in its silent watch, then looked back down at the people surrounding him, at the Adepti and the God of Dust who stood beside him now.
Wisps of cloud curled across the sky, embracing the rising lanterns. As the final note of Gechen’s performance faded out, the murmurs of the crowd turned festive once more, and the blue-clad adeptus came to join them on the edge of the crowd.
“Gechen, your performance was delightful as usual,” Guizhong told her, then turned toward Xiao. “What do you think, little one?”
Xiao seemed a bit flustered, his lips parting, but unable to form a proper answer for a while. Eventually, he just said, “It… sounded nice.”
Zhongli wondered if he had ever had the chance to listen to music before.
“Each year, your skill seems to improve,” he said. “Was this a new piece?”
Gechen nodded. “I composed it specifically for this year’s Lantern Rite.”
Most of the Adepti had descended from Jueyun to join in the festivities, though a few, like the Yaksha, remained guarding the wilds, and others were still in seclusion. The more that gathered together in one place, of course, the more attention they would draw… Zhongli glanced toward the young man beside him, still wide-eyed and somewhat stiff and awkward. Xiao had already gotten far more attention than he was used to.
Zhongli bid farewell to Guizhong and Gechen, and guided Xiao toward the edge of the town, where the noise on the air had quieted and the lights had grown dim. After following the road back toward Jueyun for some time, they came upon a bridge. Zhongli paused in the center of the bridge to look up at the moon and the lanterns floating in the sky once again, and invited Xiao to join him.
“The people of the Guili Plains release lanterns in hopes that their light may guide those who are far from home, so that they will not lose sight of themselves, and find their way back,” he said. “Until now… you have not truly known a ‘home,’ have you?”
Xiao didn’t answer at first. He just stared up at the lanterns.
“Dijun… you have already lived a long time, so you must have seen the truth of humanity,” he eventually said, quietly, hesitating with each word. “You must have seen how they will betray one another, lie, cheat, steal, and cast aside the ones they say they love just to save themselves... or even just because they feel like it.”
“I have,” Zhongli replied. “But why, Xiao, do you say that this is the only truth of humanity?”
Xiao looked up at him with an expression of confusion.
“I will not deny that there are some who harbor evil within their hearts,” Zhongli shook his head. “However, that is not all that they are. There are those who don armor and raise sword and spear to fight against foes far stronger than themselves, and those who remain behind, never losing hope in their return. There are the ones who share their food, those who share their knowledge, and those who create beautiful things…”
He fell silent again for a moment, deep in contemplation.
“For many years, I have protected humanity. Much of that time was spent at a distance, watching them as they toiled, appearing in the hour of dire need to aid them,” he said. “It was… a duty, in the beginning. A contract by which I must abide. The role of the gods is to guide and watch over humanity, not to bend them to our will. However… when I began to walk among them, I began to truly understand that contract— that humanity is not immutable stone, but like a seed planted in the soil. Which way their future will grow, what they will become, and what fruit they will bear, it depends on the way those sprouts are tended.”
Whether or not Xiao understood him, Zhongli did not know. He had spent only one day in the human world, and his past still hung like a shadow over his heart. Still… in time, perhaps, he too would come to love them, the way that Zhongli had, and the way that so many companions had as well.
“I see…” Xiao murmured. “Even if they’re weak and flawed, you don’t wish to tear them apart, or force them down…”
Zhongli nodded his head. “Indeed. So… Xiao, will you join me in guarding this seed, so that it may one day grow into a strong tree?”
“I…” Xiao began. He had already agreed to serve him once— but this was different. To serve a god was something he knew well, but to watch over humanity, to take up a share of that “duty” he kept so resolutely, was different.
“Once you have made your decision and stepped onto this path, you will not be able to turn back,” Zhongli went on. “The years to come may be hard and long, but you must continue nonetheless.”
Xiao looked at him and saw that now, he was holding a painted mask in his hand. Just like the food and trinkets he had offered early, but with far more gravity. And yet, it was far easier this time for Xiao to reach out and accept it.
“Where Dijun leads, I will follow,” he said, “and who he wishes me to protect, I will protect.”
And perhaps one day, he too would understand why.