Black mist swirls around Xiao Yunjiang’s body, intertwining with the wails of the dead. With every step he takes, the ground beneath his feet rumbles. The oppressive aura surrounding him looks even darker beneath the cloudy gray sky. As he approaches the gate, Xiao Yunjiang notices Xia Shuangliu already standing there, the long and wide sleeves of his robe swaying in the ozone-scented breeze.

Xia Shuangliu draws his sword. “Xiao Wen. It’s been a while.”

Clicking his tongue, Xiao Yunjiang frowns. “Is this how the Huiyue sect treats all its guests? Why the frigid reception? Is my dearest shixiong not happy to see me?” Xiao Yunjiang’s honeyed words are undercut with an unmistakable venomous edge.

The corners of Xia Shuangliu’s lips twitch as if he wants to speak, but he remains silent.

“So you want to play games with me again, hm? Very well.” Xiao Yunjiang’s tongue darts out from between his lips, a devious glint in his dark eyes. Producing a dark guitoudao from the sheath at his waist, he darts towards Xia Shuangliu.

Xia Shuangliu scoffs and takes a deep breath, channeling his qi down into his legs and feet, jumping up into the air. “I don’t play games anymore.”

“Really?” Xiao Yunjiang’s heavy guitoudao appears out of nowhere, a hair’s length away from Xia Shuangliu’s cheek, followed by his grinning face. “Then what are we doing? Surely shixiong has a sect to run?”

“Making sure that my disciples aren’t influenced by a practitioner of the evil arts is running my sect,” Xia Shuangliu retorts. With a single motion, the gleaming blade of his slender tang dao slides against Xiao Yunjiang’s guitoudao, filling the air with an unpleasant scraping sound.

Laugher comes from all around Xia Shuangliu. “And how am I going to influence them? If they choose to turn to the path of darkness, that’s no fault of mine. Shixiong, you of all people should know that everyone has the opportunity to walk down this road.”

A flurry of uncountable guitoudao copies bear down on Xia Shuangliu. With a wave of his hand, a golden beam of light makes all but one disappear. The remaining blade slices through Xia Shuangliu’s robes at his waist just as he turns around, exposing his skin and a fresh wound, dripping blood.

A hiss of pain escapes from between Xia Shuangliu’s gritted teeth. He raises his arms and takes a step forward with his qinggong in the blink of an eye, the clouds above reflected in the spotless metal of his sword.

“Xiao Wen, stop living in the past. Look at you. You have no sect, no friends, no family...and yet, you claim to love the dark arts.” As he speaks, Xia Shuangliu brings his sword down, slicing through the air with a ‘whoosh’. A fresh wound opens on the back of Xiao Yunjiang’s hand, blood rolling down his slender wrist to stain his black clothes.

“Maybe so, but that also means I’m unrestrained. I can do what I want when I want, go wherever I please, and live life on my terms. Shixiong envies me, hm? After all, you don’t have a family or friends either, and your sect could betray you at any moment.” Xiao Yunjiang reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a talisman. It catches alight with a green flame, which disperses into several ghost fires that fly towards Xia Shuangliu.

“My sect is loyal to me, and I to my sect. There would be no Huiyue sect without me.”

“And there would be no Xia Shuangliu without the Huiyue sect.”

Xia Shuangliu draws an arc above his head with a pair of sword fingers, obliterating those ghost fires. “If I’m nothing without my sect, what are you?”

Xiao Yunjiang rushes forward using his qinggong, holding his blade in front of his chest. “You really don’t get it, do you, shixiong? Without a sect, I have something you’ll never have. Freedom. You may have free time, but that’s not the same. If you decided to move away tomorrow, do you think your sect would just be okay with it? Do you think everyone would happily pack up their things and move?” He feints a strike from above with his blade whilst extending his leg, hoping to sweep Xia Shuangliu’s feet out from under him.

Xia Shuangliu raises his sword to parry the blow. At the same time, he springs up using his qinggong, narrowly avoiding Xiao Yunjiang’s incoming foot. “I don’t want to move. Being a sect leader affords me stability you’ll never have. Freedom means nothing without constraints, of which you have none. Without morals or rules, even the word ‘freedom’ that you cling to so desperately becomes meaningless.”

“Tsk, I hate when you get all preachy like this. You say you hate anything demonic, yet you continue to fight with me. Why? Why don’t you just kill me, shixiong? Wouldn’t it be much better to get rid of the problem?” Xiao Yunjiang leaps up, making to strike another blow. Darkness like storm clouds clings to his form, making his exposed face look pale and ghostly.

“What would killing you do?” Xia Shuangliu spins around and strikes outwards at Xiao Yunjiang’s wrist. “It wouldn’t eradicate the dark arts. The Huiyue sect doesn’t kill unless absolutely necessary.”

Xiao Yunjiang drops his blade when his wrist is struck, a wave of energy that had been concentrated in Xia Shuangliu’s fingers shooting up the length of his arm and causing it to go numb. “You—! Playing dirty, huh? I thought the Huiyue sect never used underhanded methods?”

“We don’t, but I’m fighting with someone who doesn’t play by the rules.” Jumping forward as though using the air underfoot as a platform, Xia Shuangliu’s leg shoots out, kicking Xiao Yunjiang square in the abdomen. As soon as his foot makes contact, a large hole opens just above Xiao Yunjiang’s navel, dark and wailing like a ghost; wisps of black smoke billowing out.

Xiao Yunjiang grins and grabs Xia Shuangliu’s ankle with his good arm, the other hanging limply, devoid of any feeling. “Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to leave myself open like that?”

“Body-displacing art?”

“The dark arts make anything possible,” Xiao Yunjiang says as he pulls Xia Shuangliu’s leg further inside, the frigid hole enveloping it up to the shin. “Even bringing back the dead. Of course, it has a price, but so does everything in this world,” he chuckles darkly, “shixiong of all people should understand that, right? It truly is lonely at the top.”

“All nonsense,” Xia Shuangliu scoffs. He raises his free leg and swings it around Xiao Yunjiang’s waist, slamming his heel into his Qi Hai Shu point and holding his leg in place.

A jolt of pain shoots up through Xiao Yunjiang’s spine.

“Motherfucker!” He grabs Xia Shuangliu’s leg with his good arm and digs his pointed nails into the flesh of his shin, feeling the tendons ripple under his palm. Some of the eerie dark mist that swirls around Xiao Yunjiang’s body like clouds of ash rush down the length of his arm, disappearing into the flesh of his hand and exiting out through the fingernails imbedded in Xia Shuangliu’s shin.

Gritting his teeth, Xia Shuangliu’s eyebrows furrow, a few beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face. “Xiao Wen, you dog. Making me choose between ridding my body of your demonic energy and using my qinggong…”

“Well? Which will shixiong choose?”

Wrapping his one leg tighter around Xiao Yunjiang’s waist, Xia Shuangliu diverts his qi from his feet and up his legs, chasing that demonic energy along his veins like a dragon. As soon as the flow of his qi reverses, he leans forward and wraps his arms around Xiao Yunjiang, nails pressing into his back through his clothes.

“Remember when we were kids? You told me if I died, you’d want to die alongside me,” Xia Shuangliu breathes into Xiao Yunjiang’s ear as he tightens his grip, pushing his leg all the way up to the thigh into the hole. “A sect leader always keeps his word.”

The point of Xiao Yunjiang’s throat bobs.

“What?”

Xiao Yunjiang’s voice is inaudible as the two fall towards the ground. In a panic, the energy he’d been using to keep up his Body-Displacing art dissipates. Having spent many years honing his martial arts, Xia Shuangliu seizes that tiny opportunity to free his leg, wrapping it around Xiao Yunjiang’s waist.

Moments before the two make impact with the ground below, Xia Shuangliu lifts his hand and draws a golden seal in the air below. Flickering, it expands outwards, transforming into a net of shimmering light that catches the two. Xiao Yunjiang’s body strains against it as the net disappears, leaving them lying in the grass.  

Sitting up, Xia Shuangliu pushes his hips back, his crotch rubbing against Xiao Yunjiang’s.

Gritting his teeth, a jolt of pleasure pulses through Xiao Yunjiang’s body. “Shixiong. Get off.”

“No.”

Xiao Yunjiang claws at Xia Shuangliu’s back. His nails tear through the fabric of Xia Shuangliu’s pristine white robe, leaving bloody trails in their wake.

 Gritting his teeth and biting back a groan of pain, Xia Shuangliu’s hips press down harder against the spot between Xiao Yunjiang’s legs, making his dick twitch.

Shit.

“Just now…” Xia Shuangliu’s eyebrows furrow, “there was a shift in yin energy. Xiao Wen, you’re…”

Xiao Yunjiang clicks his tongue. “Shixiong must be no longer in his prime. There was nothing, you’re just sensing things.”

“Then this is just nothing?” As he speaks, Xia Shuangliu’s hand slides down Xiao Yunjiang’s thigh, making him writhe.

A thick black mist leeches out from Xiao Yunjiang’s body, enveloping the two. That chilly and cloud-like substance wraps around Xia Shuangliu’s wrist like tendrils, freezing it in place just as his palm presses against Xiao Yunjiang’s erect cock beneath it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, shixiong,” Xiao Yunjiang snarls, his lips curling back to reveal a row of pristine white teeth and two pairs of sharp fangs.

“Xiao Wen, you haven’t changed at all. You weren’t listening to me earlier when I said that I don’t play games.”

Right now, Xiao Yunjiang wants nothing more than to fuck his shixiong to death. The tendrils of dark energy surrounding the two of them grab Xia Shuangliu and wrap around his torso, pinning his arms down and restricting his movement.

Xiao Yunjiang sits up slightly, reaching for Xia Shuangliu’s sword. Xia Shuangliu squirms, sending another wave of pleasure careening through Xiao Yunjiang’s body, its heat building up in his core. He stops, his trembling hand a hair’s breadth away from the sword.

“Don’t touch.”

“Fuck you.” Xiao Yunjiang grabs the sword. The moment his fingers clasp the hilt, a burning, piercing heat assaults every nerve in his hand, shooting up the length of his arm. Feeling as though someone had replaced his blood with magma, Xiao Yunjiang draws his hand back on instinct. “What?”

Xia Shuangliu sighs. “Are you still my little shidi from all those years ago, or what? Naturally, my Xinchuandao is bound to my soul. It only recognizes me as its master. Nobody can wield it but me.”

“Who are you calling shidi? Those days are over, shixiong. You said it yourself! Or do you want to go back to how things were before, hm?” Xiao Yunjiang hisses, the dark energy binding Xia Shuangliu’s body tightening.

He can feel Xia Shuangliu’s pulse throbbing and grins. “Are you scared, shixiong?”

“Not at all. A true righteous cultivator fears neither evil beasts nor the dark arts; neither torture nor death. He only abhors immorality and detests unrighteousness.”

Xiao Yunjiang rolls his eyes. “All bullshit.” Taking advantage of his current upper hand, Xiao Yunjiang flips over, pinning Xia Shuangliu down underneath him.

“I don’t like the way you teased me earlier,” he says as he reaches his hand, which has finally regained some sensation, underneath the silver belt encircling Xia Shuangliu’s slim waist. Pushing the white and silver brocade fabric of Xia Shuangliu’s qun aside, Xiao Yunjiang smirks at him.

“Shixiong…do you see it now? Between the two of us, I’m the stronger one,” he says as he clutches the thick yet sheer fabric of Xia Shuangliu’s pants and tears them open at the seam.

Looking down at his shixiong, Xiao Yunjiang takes note of his unreadable expression, his jaw clenching. “Hah…what’s with that face? I hate this expression of shixiong’s the most…”

Xiao Yunjiang unsheathes his claws, pressing the tip of one against the point of Xia Shuangliu’s throat. It leaves a small scratch, a single drop of blood dribbling out.

All he has to do is press down, and it will all be over.

The muscles in Xiao Yunjiang’s wrist twitch.

“Xiao Wen, what are you doing? If you want to kill me, then do it.”

Even as Xiao Yunjiang stares into the face of that shixiong he hates so much, his icy heart swirling with childhood memories that had long since rotted, he still can’t bring himself to do it…

Scoffing, Xiao Yunjiang pulls his hand away, claws digging into his palms until blood drips out of his clenched fist.

If Xia Shuangliu dies, what will he have? With no disciples, no sect, and no family or friends to speak of — save for the evil spirits whispering in his ears — there will be nothing left for Xiao Yunjiang. All he would be able to do is wander the earth aimlessly with the knowledge that the void in his heart can never be filled. Even if he uses the dark arts to bring his shixiong back, things will never return to how they were before. With no past and no future in the mortal world, Xiao Yunjiang would rather go to hell with his shixiong knowing they’d meet each other again in their next life; their two fates like tangled strings — inextricably bound.

“Tsk, whatever…it’s not even worth it to dirty my hands by killing you.” He straightens his back and pulls down the black pants he’s wearing, exposing pale skin littered with scars.

Xiao Yunjiang is already half-hard; it only takes a few strokes for him to get fully erect. He flashes his white teeth. “This has been a long time coming. Even if I can’t make you give in to my blade, I can do it another way…”

“Then do your worst.”

It hurts, but only for a moment. Once Xiao Yunjiang is inside, Xia Shuangliu can’t deny the pleasure that courses through his body in response.

Of course, he’d never say that. The corners of his eyes redden, his lips trembling slightly.

“Aw, is shixiong going to cry?” Xiao Yunjiang asks as he thrusts his hips forward, his dick sinking all the way into Xia Shuangliu’s pussy. “Then cry. I want to see how you look when I break you…”

Swallowing back a moan, Xia Shuangliu pushes himself up using his feet, flipping both their bodies over in the grass and pinning Xiao Yunjiang down. 

“H-Hey!” Xiao Yunjiang squirms. “What are you doing?”

Xia Shuangliu doesn’t reply, only parting his reddened lips slightly as he rides the man underneath him, the tight and hot walls of his cunt squeezing Xiao Yunjiang’s cock.

“Fuck, fuck…shixiong, don’t!”

“Oh…so you’ve suddenly got cold feet?” A shudder grips Xia Shuangliu’s body, his pussy tightening around Xiao Yunjiang’s dick. Of course, such an upright and principled person as Xia Shuangliu has never dual cultivated, but he’d be stupid to deny the benefits it could have for one’s cultivation. These sorts of worldly indulgences are frowned upon, sure, but…

Once couldn’t hurt.

Besides, Xia Shuangliu cultivates the Path of Righteousness, which means that dual cultivation isn’t off the table, so long as it’s consensual. Despite his lofty position as sect leader, in the end, Xia Shuangliu is still a human with needs and desires. Asking a human not to chase pleasure — be it drink, sex, money, or power — is like asking a bird not to fly or a fish not to swim.

“You’re not — I’m supposed to be the one…” Xiao Yunjiang pauses, moaning and gritting his teeth. He digs his nails into Xia Shuangliu’s thighs, gathering a swirling cloud of dark energy beneath his back and using it to turn himself over, rolling Xia Shuangliu onto the ground below. Seeing those pristine white robes ripped and stained by blood and grass fill Xiao Yunjiang’s heart with joy. His untouchable and glorious shixiong, the jewel of their sect, defiled and dirty…

Xiao Yunjiang almost cums on the spot at the mere thought of it.

“Shixiong, your yin energy is naturally good. It’s a shame…” the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air around them. Xiao Yunjiang’s words come out staggered between gasps of pleasure. “You’d…you’re a perfect candidate for the Demonic path. It’s…truly tragic…if only you’d been a little less inflexible…think about…think about what we could’ve done together! This entire world…it could’ve been ours…”

Xia Shuangliu’s entire body trembles with pleasure. Still, he keeps a straight face, scoffing. “I’d never sink to that level, even if I lost everything. Besides, I don’t want the world. I’m happy with my lot.”

Xiao Yunjiang frowns. “Stupid.”

“No. It’s called…” pressing his palms down against the ground, concentrating his qi in his hands and feet to pin Xiao Yunjiang under him once again, Xia Shuangliu stares at him. “Morality. I know those who practice the dark arts have no concept of it.”

Tilting his head back to expose the flawless skin of his neck, little beads of sweat that glinted in the sun covering it, Xia Shuangliu lets out a soft moan.

Xiao Yunjiang thinks about how vulnerable he looks. Glancing in either direction, grass brushing against his cheeks, he searches for his sword. Thanks to the earlier scuffle, it had landed about two zhang away, squarely out of reach.

Even with his mind clouded by pleasure, Xia Shuangliu notices what the man beneath him is doing. Predicting that Xiao Yunjiang might make a move to grab his sword, Xia Shuangliu extends a trembling arm, using two sword fingers to channel a thin, invisible thread of qi through the blade, pushing it away.

“Bastard!” Xiao Yunjiang spits. A dark tendril of evil energy bursts out from under his back, making a beeline for the sword. Xia Shuangliu pushes his hips down against Xiao Yunjiang’s so hard that he can feel their pulses racing in tandem. Squeezing Xiao Yunjiang’s cock with his cunt, that inky tentacle pauses, shaking as it withdraws a few cun.

“Hah…stop…shixiong, don’t…I’ll…” Xiao Yunjiang can’t help but fuck into Xia Shuangliu, the desire he’d been keeping hidden away for so many years driving his body. “You don’t…feel ashamed?”

Xia Shuangliu’s cheeks are flushed a faint pink. “Ashamed…of what?”

“This. You’re…riding me so shamelessly, don’t you have any face as a sect leader?” Pleasure’s heat coils tight in Xiao Yunjiang’s core. The familiar tingling sensation pulsing up through his body can’t be ignored — he’s close to orgasming, and judging by the look on Xia Shuangliu’s face, so is he.

Xia Shuangliu averts his gaze. “It isn’t like anyone will see us.”

“They could,” Xiao Yunjiang grins. “Someone could walk through that gate right now. What do you think they’d do if they saw their white lotus shizun doing something so shameless?”

Biting his lip, Xia Shuangliu fights with himself to regain his composure. It’s improper to act too lewdly, improper to get off on thinking about being caught...

“It feels good, doesn’t it, shixiong? Even the most righteous of people all have a little spark of darkness inside them. Go ahead, embrace that debauchery.”

Xia Shuangliu’s jaw twitches. He grits his teeth. “Be…be quiet…” his shaking voice fades into a soft moan, the warmth in his core billowing up like a raging fire.

“I. Win.”

Those two words of Xiao Yunjiang’s push Xia Shuangliu over the edge. The taut bowstring of pleasure pulled tight inside his body snaps, sending a burst of pleasure through Xia Shuangliu’s body as he orgasms. He shudders, bucking his hips against Xiao Yunjiang’s cock inside him.

“Fuck, shixiong…you look good like this.” In his hoarse voice is a single trace of a love long since gone rotten. Xiao Yunjiang orgasms too, thick ropes of hot cum spurting inside Xia Shuangliu.

For a moment, something familiar blossoms between them, only to wither away before either of them can grasp it. Like everything they’d had, it’s fleeting and incorporeal, washed away by the ruthless sea of time. Above that sea, Vega and Altair shimmer — separated eternally by a river of dust and other stars, always running parallel but never quite touching, each traveling down their own divergent path.

Deep down, a dull ache throbs in Xia Shuangliu’s chest, but it vanishes the moment Xiao Yunjiang speaks.

“Well, I was wrong. Seems like you are good for more than just annoying me and preaching that ‘peace and morality’ nonsense!”

Xia Shuangliu’s hand moves down to the hilt of his sword. Someone who’d cultivated for over 600 years can sense even minute shifts in energy with ease, so Xiao Yunjiang naturally notices and grabs Xia Shuangliu’s wrist.

A devious glint sparkles in Xiao Yunjiang’s eyes, deep and black like two inkwells, as dark and alluring as he is. Extending his other arm, a tendril of demonic energy shoots out from his hand and makes to grab his blade.

Xia Shuangliu channels a stream of qi up through the meridian in his arm. Xiao Yunjiang lets out a hiss and draws his hand away as though it’s been burned. “Fucker!”

At the same time, that wisp of evil energy grabs Yongsuidao, Xiao Yunjiang’s blade, and shoots backwards, bringing it towards the open palm of its master.

With only a few moments of an opening, Xia Shuangliu unsheathes his blade. Under the gentle warmth of the late summer sun, that tang dao’s spotless body reflects the sky, which is now devoid of so much as a single trace of the morning’s ominous storm clouds.

At last living up to its name, Xinchuandao pierces the chest of the ‘dawn’ Xiao Yunjiang with a single, smooth stroke. As the edge presses against the vulnerable muscle of his heart, Xiao Yunjiang freezes. Blood drips out from the wound, staining the once-pristine Xinchuandao and Xiao Yunjiang’s clothes.

When what he’s just done settles in, a trickle of panic starts to leak into Xia Shuangliu’s chest. A million questions swirl in his mind; but one stands out.

Why?

Xia Shuangliu’s mind unleashes a barrage of memories, ones he’d long since forced himself to forget. Despite steeling himself, even attempting to seal off his mind, everything still rushes back.

Xia Shuangliu sees himself and Xiao Yunjiang as disciples, round-faced and innocent, practicing swordsmanship together with their shizun. The two would play together in the lush green valley that their sect called home, catching insects cupped between tiny palms and picking sweet fruits from wild trees. They go back to the sect at dusk, walking hand-in-hand.

Like always, those youthful good times fade away in an instant, replaced by a vision of two green-clad teens. Xia Shuangliu, then a young man whose face still retained a few traces of quickly-vanishing femininity, is diligently poring over some old texts written on a bamboo slip scroll. Beside him, Xiao Yunjiang is halfheartedly scribbling on talismans in between stealing glances at Xia Shuangliu, who scolds him for not paying attention. Xiao Yunjiang smirks and reaches into his sleeve to pull out a house gecko he found somewhere. He puts the gecko down on Xia Shuangliu’s desk and watches it crawl all over, breaking Xia Shuangliu’s focus. It runs through his inkwell and leaves little footprints scattered across the paper on which he’d been taking notes.

Xia Shuangliu lifts his head and glares at Xiao Yunjiang, who covers his mouth in a laugh. He couldn’t help but feel like his shidi was very cute, all the anger in his heart melting away in an instant. Gently scolding Xiao Yunjiang, Xia Shuangliu picked up the gecko and placed it in his shidi’s hands, telling him to go and take it outside. Before standing up, Xiao Yunjiang leans in and presses a quick yet tender kiss against his shixiong’s lips.

Sometime after that is when things began to go downhill.

Over the past several months, Xia Shuangliu notices Xiao Yunjiang’s temper slowly worsening. One day, frustrated with the slow progress of his cultivation, Xiao Yunjiang approaches Xia Shuangliu and asks him to train together, after which the two end up making out in Xiao Yunjiang’s courtyard.

Flashing a sly grin, Xiao Yunjiang produces a jar of wine he’d kept hidden in his room. Xia Shuangliu drinks only one bowl, but Xiao Yunjiang drinks until his words become slurred and his steps staggered. When he tries to get up, a book that Xia Shuangliu has never seen falls out of Xiao Yunjiang’s robe.

Xiao Yunjiang’s face pales.

He scrambles to grab it, but his drunkenness slows his reaction time, so he can only watch as Xia Shuangliu picks up the strange book and flips through it.

It’s a manual on the dark arts — demonic cultivation, the Path of Slaughter, necromancy, body stealing, and countless other dangerous and immoral techniques.

Anger and sadness swell like a wave in Xia Shuangliu’s chest.

Of course, their sect wouldn’t just keep manuals about the dark arts lying around, but Xiao Yunjiang refuses to say where he’d gotten it from. Instead, he spits and hisses for Xia Shuangliu to fucking give it back.

Xia Shuangliu doesn’t recognize that Xiao Yunjiang.

He wonders where the cute and mischievous shidi who loves playing pranks and hates studying went. He takes that disgraceful dark arts manual and tucks it into his robe.

Xiao Yunjiang stares up at him with an intense, icy gaze, and draws his blade — a tang dao, just like every disciple in their sect has. He insists that Xia Shuangliu give the book back.

Xia Shuangliu doesn’t draw his blade, frowning and telling his shidi that he doesn’t want him reading such things, and that he’ll hang onto it for safe keeping for the time being.

That night, Xia Shuangliu wakes up to Xiao Yunjiang in his bedroom, rifling through his belongings with the fervor of a thief looking for hidden jewelry. In the shadows of the darkened bedroom, that Xiao Yunjiang looks…different, somehow. Sitting bolt upright, Xia Shuangliu frowns and rubs his eyes. Xiao Yunjiang demands for his shixiong to return the manual, but Xia Shuangliu doesn’t.

After that, everything becomes a blur. Xia Shuangliu only remembers that the two fought; the scar that he can’t bring himself to heal across his waist is proof of that. He thinks he remembers their shizun stepping in to try and mediate, but the memories are old and faded with the passage of hundreds of years, moth-eaten by trauma and heartache.

In the end, Xiao Yunjiang disappears from the sect.

Time flows like water, washing away all traces of Xiao Yunjiang from the sect’s memory. Still, Xia Shuangliu clings to a tiny sliver of hope buried deep in his chest, nurtured by the rich waters of past memories. At first, the pain is almost unbearable, but over time, it turns into a dull ache; an intimately familiar thing that Xia Shuangliu might even miss if it were gone.

Eventually, that long-estranged shixiong-shidi­ pair meet again; their immutable entanglement carved into fate.

The memory makes the old, familiar pain in Xia Shuangliu’s heart flare up.

When Xia Shuangliu sees his shidi’s face again, it’s because Xiao Yunjiang is sauntering in through the gate of his sect — no, what used to be his sect — as if he owns the place, an unfamiliar blade at his side.

With the sect’s shizun in seclusion, the mantle of sect leader rests temporarily on Xia Shuangliu’s shoulders.

But it doesn’t matter.

The little shidi that Xia Shuangliu once loved so dearly is gone, replaced by someone he doesn’t recognize.

As he watches dark clouds swirl around Xiao Yunjiang’s body, Xia Shuangliu can’t help but feel as though he’d made a mistake somewhere. A wave of painful regret grips his heart as their eyes meet. In the midday sun, Xinchuandao looks like a beam of light.

Xia Shuangliu demands the fight be taken elsewhere in fear that the sect’s weaker disciples may be hurt. To his surprise, Xiao Yunjiang agrees.

Unfortunately, their strengths aren’t evenly matched. Despite having endured three heavenly tribulations, Xia Shuangliu’s 100 years of cultivation isn’t enough in the face of that Xiao Yunjiang who took a shortcut; that Xiao Yunjiang who stole his power through underhanded methods, dipping his fingers into methods that any normal cultivator wouldn’t even consider.

It has a price, however, and as Xiao Yunjiang’s demonic mist surrounds Xia Shuangliu, the voices of countless unknown dead infiltrating his brain like a parasite, he realizes what Xiao Yunjiang has come for. Panic rises up in his chest, and he struggles to be free of that oppressive dark cloud. Every movement saps the energy from his body. The faces of people lost to time flash in the darkness, leering at him. They feed on his resentment, his suffering, the agony upon seeing something he never thought possible.

Somehow, he lifts his arm and slices through the suffocating fog. The sky is gray; Xinchuandao looking much the same. Having broken out of Xiao Yunjiang’s array, Xia Shuangliu rushes back to the sect with his qinggong, chest heaving. His hand squeezes Xinchuandao’s hilt so hard that his knuckles turn white.

When he crests the hill in front of the fertile valley where his sect lies, screams fill his ears. Smoke and an all-too-familiar black mist fill the overcast sky.

Xia Shuangliu’s heart drops, and he rushes through the sect’s entrance gate.

The overwhelming stench of blood floods his nose, sharp and metallic at the back of his tongue. Bodies of some of the sect’s weaker disciples are scattered about, their white robes stained with dirt and blood. Xia Shuangliu can’t tell if they’re alive or dead, but he doesn’t have time to check.

Xiao Yunjiang has a group of disciples backed into a corner and is walking towards them, guitoudao in hand. Blood drips from that sword onto the ground, dark energy swirling around it.

Xia Shuangliu charges him, shouting for him to stop, to leave those disciples who resembled his shidi alone, but Xiao Yunjiang is merciless. His power comes from killing; stealing the lives of others to feed his own. Their sadness, anger, fear, and resentment all only bolster it, everything they feel in their final moments feeding the darkness.

Everything is different.

Worse.

Despite his efforts, the leaps in power Xiao Yunjiang gets from his killing spree makes Xia Shuangliu no match for him.

In a single day, the entire sect collapses. Their old shizun breathes his last; having gone into seclusion with the knowledge that his end is fast approaching.

Surrounded by smoke and clouds of dust, Xiao Yunjiang turns to look at his shixiong. Xia Shuangliu’s once-white robe is stained with dirt and blood. Such an image stirs something deep inside Xiao Yunjiang; a dark and twisted thing that wants to see more of this, more of Xia Shuangliu looking completely defeated, more of Xia Shuangliu utterly defiled — for his eyes only.

Xiao Yunjiang takes a step forward, and Xia Shuangliu raises his blade. Unexpectedly, Xiao Yunjiang smiles, although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Even now, after hundreds of years have already passed, a single piece of Xia Shuangliu’s memories remain crystal clear.

Xiao Yunjiang drops Yongsuidao, raising both hands as he walks towards Xia Shuangliu.

Xia Shuangliu hears Xiao Yunjiang’s voice in his ears as his shidi embraces him. “Shixiong, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” The smell of blood floods Xia Shuangliu’s nose and mouth, tasting of iron.

The hand holding Xinchuandao is trembling so hard that the blade falls to the ground with a loud clang, landing beside the blood-covered body of one of their shidi.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you!

But…

Xia Shuangliu’s shaking arms weakly wrap around Xiao Yunjiang’s waist.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

Xiao Yunjiang remains silent.

“Why didn’t you kill me?!” Xia Shuangliu repeats through gritted teeth.

Xiao Yunjiang strokes Xia Shuangliu’s back. “I need someone who can challenge me someday; someone who can help me hone my skills. None of these second-rate losers can ever compare to you.”

Anger bubbles up in Xia Shuangliu’s chest. He searches vainly for something to say in reply, but finds nothing. With nowhere to go, that stifled-up anger in his chest unleashes itself on the rotten fate binding him and Xiao Yunjiang together.

‘There’s no misfortune worse than being bound for eternity to you…’ he thinks.

Those words echo in Xia Shuangliu’s mind as he’s pulled back to the future, once again surrounded by the bitter, metallic stench of blood.

“It’s poetic…being taken down by you…” Xiao Yunjiang weakly lifts his blade, thrusting it in Xia Shuangliu’s direction. “The shixiong I detested so much…are you happy? You’ve finally taken me down; this great evil…surely everyone will…” he pauses and draws in a deep, struggling breath. Blood is already filling his lungs and chest cavity, and Xiao Yunjiang knows he’s not long for this world.

“Everyone will be happy…they’ll sing praises of how Xia Shuangliu defeated the demonic cultivator Xiao Yunjiang…”

For some reason, the words that come out of Xia Shuangliu’s mouth are “don’t say that.”

“You won’t die,” Xia Shuangliu says; a desperate bid to reassure the both of them.

Xiao Yunjiang struggles to circulate his spiritual energy up to his heart to stem the bleeding, but it’s useless. Blood flows out like water; every heartbeat a pang of agony.

“To think I’d be so weak…to be defeated by the likes of you…I’m disappointed in myself more than anything…”

Xia Shuangliu raises his free hand and places it on Xiao Yunjiang’s chest. “You won’t die,” he mechanically repeats. Channeling some of his spiritual energy into Xiao Yunjiang, Xia Shuangliu realizes that the situation is even direr than he’d believed moments ago.

In the end, his more than 600 years of cultivation amount to nothing but a handful of ashes, blown away by the wind.

“Let me heal you.”

Xiao Yunjiang laughed. “Shixiong, you really are stupid. What can you possibly heal? Even Hua Tuo or Bian Que couldn’t fix me.”

Xia Shuangliu decides to pull the blade out, tossing it aside. Bright red blood stains that once-spotless sword, even dripping down the characters carved into the sword body — loyalty, respect, justice, morality, honor, benevolence, etiquette, rationality, bravery — the Huiyue sect’s Nine Virtues.

He places his hand over Xiao Yunjiang’s chest, channeling his spiritual energy into his heart. The muscle closes just to tear open again, blood spurting out.

What have I done?

Xinchuandao is a sword made from ore found in the Zhangshan Dan’E cave, the place where their shizun had spent most of his time cultivating. Thanks to its rich spiritual energy, the blade can distinguish between good and evil. In the presence of dark energy, Xinchuandao’s power increases, the metal it’s made of naturally imbued with the cave’s loving-good and hating-evil energy.

Due to this, Xiao Yunjiang’s injury is impossible to heal.

And thus, Xia Shuangliu’s beloved sword turns into a detested hunk of metal, its ability to destroy evil becoming its biggest problem.

“You won’t die.”

Watching Xiao Yunjiang’s blood pour out into the grass, seeping into the dirt, Xia Shuangliu is reminded of that day.

“Back then…why did you destroy our sect?” Xia Shuangliu asks.

Xiao Yunjiang laughs weakly, blood bubbling out from his lips. It stains the front of his neck in a bright red line, soaking into the dark collar of his robes. Xia Shuangliu’s energy circulates inside his body, but the damage is already done.

There’s nothing he can do.

The good student, esteemed shixiong, and glorious sect leader Xia Shuangliu all disappear, replaced with a worn-out shell who can’t even save his beloved, detested shidi.

“I…back then, I’d just started cultivating the dark path, so I couldn’t control myself…that, and…” Xiao Yunjiang’s eyes shift to Xia Shuangliu’s handsome face. “I knew it would motivate you. You…you…” pausing, Xiao Yunjiang coughs again, “I wanted someone who could be my equal? Who better than…my shixiong. Only you’re worthy of…taking me down, not those second-rate shidi of ours…so I killed them all.”

That ‘my shixiong’ squeezes Xia Shuangliu’s heart, washing away all his anger in an instant. His lips tremble, but everything he wants to stay remains trapped in his chest. Instead, he just says, “I don’t understand how you think.”

“I know.” Xiao Yunjiang’s eyelashes flutter, his consciousness like a flickering flame.

“Xiao Wen. Stay awake.”

Xiao Yunjiang shakes his head. “Shixiong, you know how this is going to end. You won; I lost. You beat me.”

Redness creeps into the corners of Xia Shuangliu’s eyes. “Shut up.”

“Huh? Shixiong…” Xiao Yunjiang’s breath comes out in staggered bursts, his chest heaving. “Why aren’t you happy?”

Why aren’t I happy?! Xiao Wen…

You really are the worst.

“Am…I supposed to be?” Xia Shuangliu murmurs.

He isn’t.

The space inside his chest is like a void, endless and dark, consuming everything around it. It’s stifling; an intense burning, stinging, throbbing pain, one that pierces so deep even his bones ache.

It hurts more than the day he saw his sect destroyed. There’s no allure of revenge, no flame of motivation, only the fathomless agony of loss, rending his heart in two.

“I’ll…I’ll take you back to our — my sect…our doctor, he can help you.”

Xia Shuangliu tries to close the wound again, but Xinchuandao’s effect is too strong. He’s like an ant trying to shake a tree, desperately scrambling to reverse what’s irreversible, praying to the indifferent Dao to please let me fix it, let me rewind time, I’ll do anything…

“Shixiong...”

“Don’t talk.”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“Tsk…lower your head down. I can hardly hear.” Xiao Yunjiang coughs, spitting up blood.

How can a human being bleed this much? Xia Shuangliu thinks as he lowers his head.

Xiao Yunjiang grins and, using the miniscule energy he has left, he lifts his head and kisses Xia Shuangliu, smearing blood on his lips. His breath is weak and heartbeat slow, his voice hoarse; barely above a whisper.

“You’re…remember when we were kids and you had…your Bazi read, and…your Ziwei Doushu calculated…?”

“Of course I remember.”

“You…” a laugh squeezes out from Xiao Yunjiang’s throat, “that astrologer said that your luck with love would be awful, and yet…you’d also have someone who you’d be bound to, never able…to part, even in death…”

Xia Shuangliu’s breath hitches.

Another laugh, and Xiao Yunjiang closes his eyes.

“Xiao Wen.” Xia Shuangliu whispers.

Nothing.

“Xiao Wen, this isn’t funny.” Xia Shuangliu says it a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

“Xiao Wen! Wake up!” Xia Shuangliu’s voice is somewhere between a shout and a sob, broken and shaking.

Lowering his head, tears streaking down his cheeks, he whispers to Xiao Yunjiang. “Shidi…”

Waiting is painful. Kneeling in the blood-covered grass beside Xiao Yunjiang, heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird, Xia Shuangliu stares at his…fated one, breath bated. He expects Xiao Yunjiang to sit up and laugh, to say what a good prank he’d pulled; how he’d really gotten one over on his shixiong, but…

Silence and stillness are the only reply he receives.

Xia Shuangliu lifts Xiao Yunjiang onto his back. He stares at Xinchuandao, lying there in the grass beside Yongsuidao…

How terribly poetic.

Picking up that spotless blade stained with blood, Xia Shuangliu glares at it. In the reflection like water, he sees his own face, twisted in agony, lips stained with blood.

“I hate you.”

The characters carved into the body mock him, and in his grief and anger, Xia Shuangliu channels a heavy wave of energy up through the golden sword hilt and into the metal body, causing it to vibrate. A low humming noise fills the air, and golden, glowing cracks appear in the untouchable sword. Xia Shuangliu pours more of his spiritual energy into that fucking thing.

With a loud crack, Xinchuandao bursts into shards, flying in every direction under the Mount Tai of Xia Shuangliu’s energy, not unlike an endless river flowing into it. One of the bits of metal flies past Xia Shuangliu’s face, slicing open the skin of his cheek. Blood rolls down his skin, but he hardly pays attention to it, leaning down to pick up Yongsuidao. The blade trembles, black clouds of evil energy shooting out to attack his hand.

Xia Shuangliu’s heart rate increases.

“You still see shi—Xiao Wen as your master. That means his soul has yet to drink the Meng Po Soup...”

Even with Xiao Yunjiang on his back, Xia Shuangliu’s qinggong isn’t inhibited. He rushes through the gate of the Huiyue sect; the voices of countless disciples calling after him.

“Shizun!”

“Where were you just now?”

“Who’s that?”

“Shizun, what’s going on?”

Xia Shuangliu ignores them; all he can hear inside his head are Xiao Yunjiang’s words from earlier.

“The dark arts make anything possible…even bringing back the dead.”

He rushes to the peaceful mountain at the back of the sect, where waterfalls tumble down over green-covered karst mountains. A rainbow haze created by the mist from the waterfalls hangs above the massive, long gray staircase that leads up to Xia Shuangliu’s residence.

Pushing his qinggong to its limits, Xia Shuangliu races up the stairs to the quiet expanse of his Zunchong Luohan courtyard. He temporarily disarms the entry-prevention seal at the gate and walks through. Suppressing the evil-detecting talismans that surrounded the entire area, Xia Shuangliu walks through many a spacious, white-jade hall until he comes to an old back room. Unlike most of the other buildings in the Zunchong Luohan courtyard, this one is made of wood and is sparsely furnished.

Xia Shuangliu had built it himself after Xiao Yunjiang destroyed their previous sect. However, it no longer saw any use, banished to nothing but a relic of the past.

Placing Xiao Yunjiang onto the small, only-fit-for-one-person wooden bed, Xia Shuangliu kneels down and looks into the darkness beneath it. Extending his spiritual energy, he detects a small, rectangular-shaped box beneath it and reaches to grab it.

Wiping the dust from the box with his palm, he opens it.

Inside is a faded and yellowed old manual; the text on the cover barely readable from years of neglect: The … Arts of … and Demonic Cultivation.

With trembling hands, Xia Shuangliu opens it. He thumbs through the pages until he reaches the chapter about necromancy. Stopping at the section subtitled ‘Sacrifice’, Xia Shuangliu carefully scans the words, which are written in a strange and archaic style.

As with all the dark arts, if one wishes to regain the life of another, a price must be paid. One must exchange from their own life an amount equal to that which they wish for the deceased to obtain.

Xia Shuangliu draws in a deep breath. He places the manual down and follows all the steps; using his and Xiao Yunjiang’s blood to draw the array, placing Xiao Yunjiang’s body in the center, and then cutting open his own hand above Xiao Yunjiang’s body, his blood flowing down onto his shidi’s chest.

It’s easy to let go of life he has yet to live. Despite the exhaustion washing over him in waves, Xia Shuangliu can’t help but hold his breath in anticipation. He watches as a golden ball of light emerges from his chest and enters Xiao Yunjiang’s body. A high-pitched buzzing sound floods the room, and Xiao Yunjiang’s body glows so bright that Xia Shuangliu is forced to squeeze his eyes shut. Ringing fills his ears, and he swears he can hear Xiao Yunjiang’s voice somewhere in between that garbled sound. A burst of pain floods his body, and he grits his teeth.

It feels as though every meridian in his body is being destroyed and rebuilt again and again, sapping every last drop of his qi.

And then, in an instant, everything vanishes. The light, paim and the strange sounds are replaced by nothing but silence and the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the small window.

Xia Shuangliu opens his eyes and crawls over to Xiao Yunjiang, too weak to stand up. He comes up beside Xiao Yunjiang, grasping his wrist and pressing two fingers against it.

Xiao Yunjiang’s pulse throbs faintly, along with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

A tear rolls down Xia Shuangliu’s cheek and falls onto Xiao Yunjiang’s. His eyes flutter open, those dark and mischievous brown eyes staring up at him.

“Who…what happened?” Xiao Yunjiang asks his voice hoarse.

“Do you remember anything?”

Xiao Yunjiang’s eyebrows furrow, his lips pursing slightly. He thinks for a few moments before shaking his head. “I don’t. You…your face feels familiar, but…I can’t quite grasp it.”

Xia Shuangliu smiles. “You’re my shidi. You got pretty hurt during a fight with a high-level cultivator, but…I fixed you. Everything is fine now.”

“Why don’t I remember…?” Xiao Yunjiang presses a hand to his forehead. He sits up as Xia Shuangliu’s arms wrap around him.

Pressing his lips to Xiao Yunjiang’s sweat-covered temple, Xia Shuangliu murmurs, “don’t worry, your shixiong will help you remember. I’ll tell you everything that happened, alright?”