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No one expected it to go so wrong. To lose three gods of high esteem in one day was almost unheard of, and yet, here they were. Word of Shi Wudu’s death and both Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi’s disappearance spread quickly, gods gathering in the Hall of Divine Might to listen to the account of what happened, taking in the grim appearances of the three gods stood before the Heavenly Emperor.
Pei Ming stood in the middle with the most sombre face anyone had ever seen him wear, a body covered by a white sheet cradled in his arms. His Highness Xie Lian and General Qi Ying stood on either side of him, the former wearing the same grim expression. Whispers flittered through the hall, disbelief and fear heavy in the air. The martial god looked up towards Jun Wu, then to the goddess stood beside him. Ling Wen met his eye, a deep sorrow evident in her pinched expression.
“Where are the Wind and Earth Masters?” Jun Wu asked, his deep voice echoing through the hall, quieting the hushed whispers.
“I couldn’t find the Wind Master, I looked everywhere, but he was gone,” Qi Ying replied matter of factly, aware of the heavy atmosphere, but seemingly unaffected. “I also couldn’t find the Water Master’s head,” he added, horrified gasps filling the air, Pei Ming cringing at his bluntness.
Jun Wu rubbed at his forehead, massaging the wrinkle in his brow. “And the Earth Master?”
Xie Lian stepped forward to answer, looking appropriately uncomfortable. “The Earth Master, regrettably, has also passed. Though, I think it would be more correct to say that Earth Master Yi was never with us to begin with,” he explained, the identity of the other set of remains with the three gods becoming clear to the dawning horror of the upper court.
The panic that a supreme calamity was amongst them in heaven for centuries was barely contained from spreading, the fact that it had managed to plant its roots so deeply across their ranks only worsening the situation. Jun Wu tried to rectify the situation, weeding out the clones it planted one by one, but the distrust left the middle court destabilised in the meantime.
Neither Pei Ming nor Ling Wen were surprised to find few attendees at Shi Wudu’s funeral, both appreciating Xie Lian’s presence, even if the prince had barely known the water master. He exchanged a few polite words with them, a guilty look on his face, as though he shouldered any blame in the situation at all, before taking his leave.
“Noble Jie,” Pei Ming called after Ling Wen quietly after the rites, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How… how much were you aware of?” The martial god had a feeling Shi Wudu had done something terrible to earn the wrath of such a powerful ghost, had known the elemental master knew something was after him when he asked in secret that if anything ever happened to him, that he’d look after Shi Qingxuan. Pei Ming didn’t know Black Water Sinking Ships, only knew as much as anyone else that it had become a calamity and then immediately fell out of Heaven’s sight, keeping contained quietly within the domain it established.
The civil god had a complicated expression, her lips pressed into a tight thin line. “…Enough to know this would eventually catch up to him,” she replied with a sigh, shoulders slumping under Pei Ming’s touch. “I had a feeling, when rumour spread of Water Demon Xuan, that it was the same man Shi Wudu stole the fate of.”
She didn’t say much more in public, only speaking further in the private of Pei Ming’s palace. There, she explained how she helped in finding He Xuan, the effort to go through switching fates to protect Shi Qingxuan — Pei Ming had an inkling of such events, but he still felt conflicted over them.
“It doesn’t surprise me that He Xuan became such a powerful being. A man that was destined to be a god wasn’t going to be someone who passed peacefully,” she sighed heavily. “I told Shi Wudu to preform the proper burial and sealing rites when he died to ensure he wouldn’t come back as a vengeful spirit, but it seems he disregarded that advice.” She rubbed her forehead, her exhaustion more apparent now than ever. “He was confident that even if He Xuan did come back, he would never learn the truth.”
Pei Ming chuckled dryly, “Mn, that does sound like our Shui Shi-xiong.” He shook his head in exasperation with a lopsided grin, as if the man had only done something silly, and was still there to take the gentle ribbing.
“Arrogant to a fault, isn’t he?” Ling Wen cracked a weak smile to mirror him, both quickly crumbling under the shared weight of the grief between them.
He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I just never expected it’d be the death of him.”
Both gods knew realistically, Shi Wudu was bound to piss off the wrong person one day, that his haughtiness that had him so far above the rest of the meagre masses would be what dragged him down. He was young compared to Pei Ming and Ling Wen, didn’t have the experience of fighting in wars or slaving under an uncaring and cruel master — cultivating tirelessly all his youth didn’t translate into much real-world experience.
“What do you think happened to Qingxuan?” Pei Ming asked, staring down into his cup, drained of the wine they shared. Being unable to find the younger god left him uneasy, but he also thought of how He Xuan had been by Shi Qingxuan’s side for several centuries, had been the one to break her out of house arrest when Shi Wudu brought her there to look after her in her hysteria — Pei Ming prided himself on being the god of love, and he found it hard to believe that was all just an act.
“I have my firm doubts that he’s dead. You’ll be the first to know if I hear word on his whereabouts,” Ling Wen lightly touched Pei Ming’s arm, an empathetic look in her eye. Shi Qingxuan was practically a little sibling to the both of them as well, even if she disliked acknowledging Pei Ming especially. They were both concerned with what happened to her, what fate befell her after Shi Wudu’s death.
They shared another jar in wine in a heavy silence. Neither god shed tears over the loss, both too hardened to show their grief that way, but the sorrow still showed regardless. Ling Wen couldn’t remain idle for long, saying her goodbyes with a hug before returning to her palace.
The civil god was quickly drowned under the amount of paperwork left, in the deluge of angry prayers from the vacancy left in the disappearances of three major gods. In a way, Ling Wen was thankful for the distraction, to have something else to focus on other than the grief that squeezed her heart. She didn’t want to think of the what-ifs, what she could’ve prevented or done differently, eyes glazed as they ran over paper and ink. She quickly lost track of time, absorbed in the words made by her brush, only to find her hand frozen still.
The air in her palace dropped, quickly overcome by the oppressive aura that only a calamity could exude. No one dared to move, the only sound made being the papers and brushes that fell from petrified hands. Ling Wen forced her head up, looking to the figure that strode towards her casually — a deputy of hers, one that had been with her for a couple centuries, hardworking and bubbly when he wasn’t crushed under stacks of prayers. Nothing about the man was bubbly now, expression icy as his features melted into something lifeless, staring straight into her soul.
“Lord Black Water,” the goddess greeted respectfully, steeling her voice to not waver. “I was under the impression we had rooted out your clones already.” She stood, hiding her hands in her sleeves so it would not see how they shook. “May I inquire what business you have here?”
The calamity gazed as her impassively, staring her down without a word. Having released its aura so strongly, all of heaven was likely alerted to its presence, martial gods already rushing towards the palace.
“Did you think I’d forget?” it asked cooly, its voice like shards of ice piercing through the goddess’s skin. “Did you think I was unaware of your involvement?”
Ling Wen furrowed her brow — she knew that, with Shi Wudu’s crimes coming to light, she’d likely not escape unscathed. She had been waiting, that fact etched into the back of her mind, knowing that one day, the calamity may show up for her next.
“So are you here to kill me as well?” she answered boldly, meeting its eye with a steely resolve. “You’re rather brazen to come into heaven to do so.”
A smile split the ghost’s face, a dry laugh falling from its lips. Before it could reply, a glint of light flashed through the hall, a blade slashing through the ghost, separating its head from its shoulders. The clone fell to the floor in a heap, quickly melting into a puddle of thick, inky water.
Pei Ming gripped his sword tightly, a frantic look in his eye when he met Ling Wen’s. “Noble Jie! Are you alright?” he asked, rushing up to the civil god in worry.
She didn’t relax yet, the aura still lingering in her palace although the ghost had been slayed, her fears confirmed when another of her deputy’s faces went blank — a young girl she had taken only a handful of years ago, highly intelligent and kindhearted. Ling Wen felt ill when she approached them.
“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re speaking,” she—it said, regarding the martial god with disinterest, its gaze falling back on Ling Wen. “To answer your question, no, I do not plan on killing you.”
The answer did nothing to ease either god’s nerves, Pei Ming standing between Ling Wen and the calamity in the form of a short girl defensively. He Xuan seemed to find the sight amusing, laughing in mirth.
“Then why are you here?” he demanded, sword raised threateningly in case the ghost took even a step closer.
“As a reminder,” it replied with a smile, tilting its head slightly. “Ling Wen—Nangong Jie, I don’t have to do anything to you,” it continued, gaze boring into her soul, “All your sins will become clear soon enough.”
The civil god stiffened further, clenching her jaw. “I have nothing to fear,” she retorted, but was unable to crush the seedling of anxiety the calamity’s statement planted in her — how much had He Xuan dug up on her? Already, it had very clearly been in her palace longer than she ever knew, what was it doing behind her back without her knowledge?
“Haven’t you fulfilled your grudge? What reason do you have to linger in heaven any longer?” She tried to disregard the fear, pushing back against the ghost. “How many clones do you possibly have?”
The calamity barked a laugh, clearly toying with the gods, an almost playful smile on its face. “Would you like to see?”
With a snap of its fingers, one by one, a staggering amount of the deputies gathered in the main hall of the palace stiffed up before collapsing, melting into pools of black water. Panic erupted amongst the deputies that remained, releasing screams of horror as people they knew for decades, some even centuries, collapsed into the horrifying reality that it was all a lie. Ling Wen grew paler and paler the more she saw, knees growing weak as she saw the size of her palace fall by nearly a whole third.
Distant cries filled the main array of the upper court, gods streaming in as they also lost sizeable amounts of deputies, the whole of heaven thrown into a panic once more.
“I apologise for the increase of workload you’ll have to endure,” He Xuan said gleefully, folding its hands behind its back.
Both gods before it were pale as sheets, Pei Ming hearing the distressed call of his head deputy reporting the losses his own palace received.
“…What have you gained from this?” the martial god asked cautiously, sword still held steadily towards the calamity.
Finally, He Xuan’s expression dropped, back to the icy blankness it held before. “I will not justify myself to you. All that I am here for is as a warning,” it said blankly, the temperature around them dropping enough that the gods could see their breath.
“My fury will never be eased.” It stared towards Ling Wen once more.
Before Pei Ming could react, He Xuan was right in the civil god’s face, a mere centimetres from her. “My fury will not forget. Do well to remember that,” it whispered, the chill of its voice sending shivers down the goddess’s spine that she couldn’t suppress.
In an instant, the ghost was gone, the small deputy falling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, soon dissolving like the rest of the clones. With it went the oppressive air, the cold leaving the palace.
But the cold didn’t leave Ling Wen, who fell to her knees as soon as the calamity vanished. Pei Ming was kneeling at her side immediately, hands supporting her as she dug her nails into her arms. She tried to suppress her trembling, biting her lip — she did not fear He Xuan, she trusted its word that it didn’t intend to kill her, but the threat of what it could do instead was worse than what a quick death would be.
“Noble Jie,” Pei Ming called for her softly, grounding hand on her back. “It’ll be alright, no matter what, I’ll be beside you,” he said, trying to reassure her with a smile. “I can’t go losing both my closest friends in the same week.”
She regarded him with an unreadable expression, exhaling and closing her eyes before she slowly rose to her feet again.
She looked over to her deputies, the fear and unrest among them mirroring how she felt, but her palace was too important to fall in this mess. She straightened her posture, willing her voice to not falter as she issued orders to the few deputies that hadn’t lost their minds, intent on setting things back in order as soon as possible. With a quiet sigh, she turned back to the martial god, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes.
“Thank you for arriving so quickly, even if He Xuan didn’t intend me any harm,” she said, bowing her head in appreciation.
Pei Ming shook his head with a smile, waving off her thanks. “As I said, I have your back, Noble Jie. Take care of yourself, now.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “We both have quite the messes to clean up in our palaces, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said with a quick nod.
She let him take his leave, appreciating the face he let her save by not lingering too much longer or trying to play the hero. She had to remain unyielding, fearless and unfeeling — this was her burden as a female god in her rank, any sign of weakness would be used against her.
The calamity’s warning echoed in her mind, the dread freezing her heart, but unwilling to let it show. She could only push forwards.
But as they had learned harshly, one can only outrun their sins for so long.