Chapter Text
Despite what the rumors would have you believe, Hua Cheng didn't have anything against the Cursed Crown Prince of Xianle. And he certainly hadn't killed the guy.
Sure, he'd never officially refuted the tale or made his believers stop spreading it around, but that wasn't personal. Every god needed a base of worshipers, and most would kill for the constant prayers received for being a destroyer of misfortune. Especially considering he had done so little to earn it.
He had nothing to do with that playwright's bad math and worse grasp on history (and even less to do with the instant success of his play correlating Hua Cheng's ascension with the crown prince's banishment). He hadn't even noticed his domain shift for almost a decade after the fact.
Sure, he had heaped the rewards from not setting the record straight, but accepting the perks wasn't the same as endorsing the story. He'd never claimed to be the slayer of Xianle's misfortune, and it wasn't his fault if mortals were dumb enough to think that. Besides, what did it matter if it was untrue?
Most stories floating around the mortal realm about the gods were false anyway. Yet nobody was out and about demanding Jun Wu pull out his family registry or Nan Yang drop his trousers to prove their mythos accurate. Why should he? And if the spread of this particular tale meant his tormentor's descendants built temples and worshiped his name? Well, Hua Cheng had never claimed none of it was personal.
So, while the feud between the fallen god of misfortune and the luck-laced firemaster had more in common with a bed time story than reality, it was good for business.
Most of the time.
Occasionally, it came back to bite Hua Cheng in the ass.
Scowling, Hua Cheng pushed himself onto his elbows, the array sparking to life around him as his life force began to drain.
Occasions like right now.
Because for every sucker who wanted to be blessed with good luck, there was always one who wanted to curse with misfortune. And who better, in their minds, to help carry out their scheme than the god of misfortune?
What did it matter to those morons that no one had seen the Crown Prince of Xianle in eight centuries? Who cared that he had probably faded hundreds of years ago due to, oh yeah, the complete desolation of his believers?
To these idiots, the utter destruction promised by summoning a calamity was worth the effort. Who cared about things like logistics or reality, when there was the promise of power on the line?
Fuckers.
To add insult to injury, it was his own fault Hua Cheng was in this mess.
‘Worry about your big donors, Hua Cheng.’ They'd said ‘Wasting your time on worshipers who can't offer anything only leads to trouble.’ They'd said. And had he listened?
Of course not. And now he was here.
The prayers from Baisha Village had caught his attention several weeks previous. Baisha was a small, poor village with little to offer and even less to bother with. It was the kind of place most officials wouldn't step foot in without imperial pressure.
Hua Cheng had been immediately intrigued by their string of bad luck, and how it only seemed to be growing. It had started small. Tragic, but unremarkable. A fire at the general store here. A fall off a horse there. The kind of things you could explain away. Until the misfortune grew.
It was harder to justify the butcher being struck by lightning on a sunny day. Or the apothecary found ravaged by wolves, despite there having been no wolf sightings in the entire history of the village. Or the homes burned to the ground with no discernable cause.
They had given up on justification when the plague swept through their livestock, killing most of their animals, and leaving the rest useless. They had officially turned to the gods when a drought slowly withered their crops, even when storm clouds poured rain down meters outside the town limits. Unlikely misfortune after unlikely misfortune befell them, and not a soul was spared.
The nearby villages refused refuge to those who tried to move away, terrified that they would infect them with their terrible luck. Merchants refused to do business or travel near them. Travelers passing through took the long way around. Clearly, they had offended the gods, their neighbors reasoned, and were now paying the price. Better to not get involved.
Anyone with the misfortune to be in Baisha was trapped. There was no help coming, and if something didn't change soon, they were all going to die.
So Hua Cheng had popped in for a visit. Not that he overly cared what happened to the mortals, but luck was his domain. Nobody else should be fucking with mortals like that without his permission. Really, donning a disguise and investigating was his only option.
By the time he had noticed the two dumbasses had followed him, it was too late to pretend he wasn't doing what he was doing, and he didn't care enough to force them away. Whatever interest He Xuan had in a cursed town wasn't his business, and neither was the unusually serious expression on Shi Qingxuan's face.
What was his business was the way they were too busy flirting as they trapsed through the woods to see the trap. And how Hua Cheng, apparently also a dumbass, had pushed He Xuan out of the way. Meaning, he was now the one bleeding out in an array with his spiritual energy being sucked out of him.
Fantastic.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
The wrath, who Hua Cheng was going to string up and use for saber practice when he got out of this, cackled with glee, holding up the sigil clutched in his hand. “With this amulet, I summon the calamity of misfortune, the cursed crown prince of Xianle!”
Energy exploded outward, uprooting trees and sending He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan flying backwards. Unfortunately for Hua Cheng, he was stuck in the array, barely able to raise his arm to try and cover his face. Debris battered his body as it flew past, shredding chunks out of him. Even with his enhanced healing, blood pooled around him, filling the array as it began to glow brighter and brighter
Hua Cheng squeezed his eyes closed against the flash, blinking away the stars dancing across his vision. Bad enough to be trapped and injured by this idiot, he didn't need to be blinded too.
As the wind began to die down, a silhouette became visible through the dust. Hua Cheng squinted, trying to force his vision into focus. The air shimmered around them with magic, distorting the view, but the figure appeared to be wearing the white robes of a cultivator and a bamboo hat on his head, tilted down to hide his face.
“It worked! Haha it worked! Demon, I command you to destroy these Heavenly Officials!”
The figure glanced around, staggering a bit and reaching out as if to steady itself. It seemed confused. Maybe if Hua Cheng stayed very still and very quiet, whatever had been summoned would kill the wrath instead of him. He felt brief hope before the figure turned its gaze towards Hua Cheng and froze.
Well, fuck.
In a flash, they appeared at Hua Cheng's side. Glaring, Hua Cheng spat at their feet. This was such an embarrassing way to die, taken out by a third rate wrath because of a summoning amulet. There was no way that dick-for-brains actually managed to summon a dead calamity. Hua Cheng was going to die at the hands of some fucking shape shifter wannabe, and -
Irritation melted to confusion as the shapeshifter kneeled down next to him, not seeming to care that he was staining his robes. And oh -
Oh.
Hua Cheng knew that face.
He'd seen that face in his dreams since he was a child. That was a face that sparked wars. The kind of face men would kill for. The kind they would die for. The kind that a man would spend hundreds of years convincing himself he'd embellished in his mind because no one was actually that beautiful -
Hua Cheng's heart ached at the frown tugging the man's lips down as he cradled - and there really wasn't another word to describe the way he held Hua Cheng's face, in his hands. His thumb gently tracing under Hua Cheng's eye.
“Did you not hear me? Destroy them?”
Those honey light eyes darkened, and Hua Cheng shivered, a warm tingle running up his spine. The man glanced over his shoulder, not removing his hands. “You did this?”
“Yes!” The idiot bragged, either not seeing or caring about the killing intent being levelled his way “I caught these Heavenly dogs so I could summon you to finish your work. Feast on their blood and together we'll slaughter the heavens!”
Turning back to him, the man placed a hand over Hua Cheng's heart. Surely he could hear it pounding? His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he struggled to breath around the thumping in his chest. Made all the more painful when the man's expression tightened into something unreadable. Then, he raised Hua Cheng's injured arm, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.
Hua Cheng's eyebrows shot up, his face hot as spiritual energy flooded into him, snapping his shoulder back into place. The deep gauges in his forearm pulled together, the skin rejoining as the wounds paled then disappeared. Ribs snapped back into place, and aching scratches and bruises began to disappear.
“Don't be afraid,” he murmured, and Hua Cheng's breath caught in his throat. How did he -
Rising to his feet, the cultivator? Heavenly official? turned to face the wrath. “Quite a feat you've done today.”
“Yes!” The ghost crowed, eyes wide with zealotry. “I have spent years working on this plan! All to lure the so-called fire master here to use his blood to summon you and allow your revenge! Together we shall slaughter all of -”
“And if I say no?”
The wrath paused, his hands twitching as he tilted his head. “What?”
“If I say no.” The man asks calmly. “If I don't want to slay the firemaster or destroy the heavens? Will you release him from your array?”
“Of course not! How could you -”
In a single motion, the man wearing the crown prince of Xianle's face slams his heel down on the edge of the array, shattering it and rushing forward to strike at the ghost.
Hua Cheng collapsed, struggling to catch his breath, desperate to not lose sight of the man. How did he -
The two dumbasses are at his side (about fucking time), helping him to his feet.
“What the fuck.”
“I don't know.”
“Seriously, what the fuck!”
“I just said I don't know!”
They don't have time to truly fight about stupid the two of them are (later, Hua Cheng promises himself) because the prince is already walking back towards them with the unconscious wrath in his grasp.
Looking between the crown prince of Xianle and the mangled ghost he was dragging along by the scruff, “You'll have to come with us,” He Xuan muttered, looking exhausted. No one had bothered to heal his injuries, so he still looked like shit, and despite being powerful in their own right and in far better shape, Shi Qingxuan wasn't exactly reliable in a fight.
They had all seen the easy work the prince made of the wrath. If he chose to fight them, even three on one, it would be difficult. And Hua Cheng had no desire to lift a hand against this man who had freed him from that array. Based on the way He Xuan was side-eying him, he clearly knew it too.
Without Hua Cheng's help, a fight would go very very badly for him.
The crown prince sighed, lifting his eyes to the sky for a moment before returning his gaze to the three gods in front of him, smiling awkwardly. “That is probably for the best.” He turned his warm gaze to Hua Cheng, his smile turning sincere and giving him a bow. “I am in your care, lord firemaster.”