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Chapter Text

***

About the first one he heard almost a week after Jin Rulan was settled within the walls of the Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng had never imagined that a child could make so much noise. And no, shouting — even if he managed himself to yell at Yangli’s son! — would not have solved anything. As the healer said, “children simply feel that their mother will not come, but they still hope for something.” Indeed, he understood this completely. Only by clinging to Jiang Cheng’s chest, sobbing and hiccupping, blowing snot and saliva on purple robes, his little nephew could fall asleep. As for the perception of a strict and respectful leader of the sect — damn it. The reputation of the “three poisons” is harder to ruin than the “thousand virtues.”

So just as Jin Rulan had just calmed down after another bout of hysteria, and Jiang Cheng, despite his head aching from the child's scream, continued to review the details of the trade agreement offered to the clan by the seaside city, one of the senior adepts appeared in the office with news:

“Zongzhu, in the Ganzhe village in the north, a demonic cultivator has been detained!”

At the word “demonic,” Jiang Cheng’s hand involuntarily twitched, clenching into a fist. A barely noticeable purple spark flashed across the ring of the Zidian. 

“This Wei Wuxian again…”

And here his thoughts seemed to freeze. No. This time, his martial brother would not be the cause of another scandal, dispute, or complaints from other clans. Never again.

But who dare…?

“Who is he and what does he do?”

His subordinate quickly gave him a scroll, uncovering the details 

“Liu Dong, wandering cultivator. He was spotted by a squad at a local market: they sensed the strong presence of dark energy in his backpack. He was detained and interrogated; it turned out that this brat had a stone amulet with several sealed spirits in his bag. He immediately admitted that he had made it himself and used it to fight ghosts, as his mother had taught him.

“Does he have a sword? Other weapons?”

“No. Just the amulet and a few paper talismans.”

If Jiang Cheng had looked closely at his reflection in the adept’s dilated pupils, he wasn’t sure he would have liked it. But he didn’t look closely — would it make him feel better? Would it solve anything?

“Where is this cultivator now?”

“The leader of the squad wrote that they were heading to the sect’s office in Hebian and would deliver the detainee to the prison there.”

Liu Dong turned out to be quite a young man — a little younger than that Jiang Cheng, who hadn’t taken part in the war with the Wen clan, hadn’t rebuilt the Yunmeng Jiang Sect from its burnt ruins, and hadn’t destroyed his own brother. But the current Jiang Cheng looked at his frightened face and felt that he couldn’t accept this ragged man as a serious threat. Not when he had seen with his own eyes what a truly demonic cultivator was capable of. 

“What were you going to do in my sect’s territory?”

“Venerable Sect Leader Jiang, this lowly swears that he didn’t mean to do anything wrong! My honoured mother died of illness in the winter and I couldn’t stay in those mountains alone any longer! So I thought maybe find some work in the village, or at least a temporary shelter…”

“Was your mother a cultivator?”

“Y-yes, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Where was she from? Which sect?”

“My mother didn’t tell much about how she ended up here in the mountains, this lowly one doesn’t know her past. She didn’t talk much at all. I… I don’t even know who my father was! I swear!”

It needs to send the adepts to search their hut, maybe something will be revealed... Jiang Cheng saw no signs of lies in the prisoner's behavior: after the fall of Lotus Cove and the routine of war, he had become more familiar with life outside the protected (if that was real!) walls of the sects. A female cultivator who raised a child alone in the mountains could have had a hundred reasons for doing what she did. The past is not interesting now: now he needs to deal with the present.

“Your amulet. How does it work?”

And nothing spectacular here: a poorly executed variation of the restraining formation, even drawn crookedly. It would not hold the spirits for long: according to Liu Dong, his mother taught him that an amulet with captured spirits should be thrown into the fire once all four slots are filled.

“I wanted to do it, but because of the spring rains I was unable to light a sufficiently stable fire on the way. Arriving at the village, this one thought that perhaps it would be possible to buy some strong wine, or to throw the amulet into the already lit hearth…”

It's a good thing he didn't make it: although this method of destroying spirits worked with weak entities, there was still no guarantee that the fire would destroy all the resentful energy. An act worthy of a truly demonic cultivator is to plant vengeful creatures in someone's oven! Stupidity is sometimes worse than intention!

So what must he do with this headless chicken? His spiritual core is weak due to the lack of normal training. His knowledge of orthodox cultivation paths is zero (Heavens, according to his adepts, he didn’t even understand what they were holding him for in the first place!). Expelled from the Junmeng Jiang territories? Killed outright?

“What kind of work were you looking for in the village?”

“Any kind. We kept a few goats and chickens, I can handle a bow a little, I have some knowledge around herbal gatherings… Sect Leader Jiang, please, I didn’t know that this amulet was forbidden! Please don’t kill this unworthy! I will never draw a single spell at all, I’m not good at calligraphy at all, my mother scolded me constantly for having crooked fingers…”

“If you think pity will make me close my eyes to what you were about to do, you’re wrong.”

Liu Dong hugged himself tightly with his hands, trying to shrink, to become invisible; he was visibly shaking — and it wasn’t due the cold of the dungeon. Jiang Cheng was disgusted to see such weakness. Jiang Cheng was disgusted to admit that all he was capable of in the end was to scare children with execution, not even for a mistake, but for its probability.

Nothing, not even exile, had turned his shixiong from the demonic path. It was good that this one had a hare’s heart in his chest.

“You will go with my adepts to the mountains, show them all the things that were left of your mother. There should be nothing like your amulet on the lands of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. Your meridians will be sealed until your testimony is verified. Any attempt to escape or resist will be death. Attempting to harm them and trap them will be death. I will personally find you even in Dijui. Understand?”

Liu Dong fell to the ground, bowing and almost kissing the stone slabs around Jiang Cheng’s feet, muttering something that resembled a stream of prayers for his mercy and generosity. Jiang Cheng turned and left the cell.

Jin Rulan was very unhappy about his several hours of absence. The child's roar seemed to the leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect many times worse than the screams of an angry yaoguai. Definitely more terrifying than a failed demonic cultivator.

Liu Dong's mother turned out to be a descent from a small clan that had been quietly exterminated by the Wens even before the Sun Annihilation Campaign under the pretext of a fake assassination attempt on Wen Xu. Who his father was was not found out.

A few years later, while visiting the Hebian under the pretext of Night Hunting, Jiang Cheng saw a thin shadow following the local healer relentlessly. And he even managed to notice a hesitant smile on the young man’s face when his mentor praised him for some timely help. 

He decided not to turn this smile into fear there.

Chapter Text

“Jiang-zongshu! News from the squad which investigates the disappearances in Baohu!”

“What’s up?”

“Xing Zihao has called in reinforcements from the sect. He claims that come across a nest of demonic scumbags: these scoundrels have been using river spirits to kidnap people without suspicion. He only has three adepts with him…”

“And he did the right thing by not going in himself, it wasn’t enough to pull them out yet. Tell Shui Xiongshu to gather our squad, we’ll set off by boat in the evening.”

“Zongzhu, you…”

“Yeah, me too.”

The southern swamps in the summer are not the most pleasant place in Baohu, especially because of the annoying buzzing of thousands of mosquitoes. However, anything is better than another meeting with a delegation from the Yao clan. Why would he have three advisors if they couldn’t handle the demands of these annoying magpies? And the Yunmen Jiang Sect couldn’t let some scum kidnap people on their lands with impunity. It was strange that anyone would dare to forget about this.

The reed thickets hummed in humid air, cicadas crackled, and hundreds of birds chirped. But their prey hid quietly. Contrary to the legends of heroic deeds, Jiang Cheng was not going to wait for night to stir up the nest of demonic cultivators: attacking those who commanded the river guis was just as dangerous by day as by night, but the sun slowed the dark creatures down. And sneaking up unnoticed would make sense if they were getting there by boat, not by sword.

The old fisherman, whom the village headman had recommended as a guide, crouched down and carefully drew the outlines of the channels leading to the island on the map:

“Ayo, here, a little deep water, the boat will pass calmly; here is a mess of mangrove roots, even a pole will shake, if you drive them here - that's all, they won't get lost. We thought, maybe the guis or nuishi are joking, but here it is... Evil winds brought them, oh, very evil…”

“Laoshi, are you sure that these scumbags are not from your country? How do they navigate your swamps so well?”

The man clicked his tongue in displeasure, but he was clearly thinking; Finally, when Jiang Chen thought that he had already gone sleeping, the fisherman spoke up:

“Maybe one of the young ones did it… I remember A-Song once argued with his uncle about not letting him hang out with the mercenaries because there was a lot of work at home… He also shouted that we were floundering here in the mud, and he would sleep on gold… a stupid child. And so he disappeared one autumn. And he was not alone. Who knows, maybe he left with those…”

In short, it is quite possible that there is a local with these gang who knows all the channels, shallows and secret exits. Eh, the trouble only increased! Okay, they have to catch as many as they can, the loners will either leave the lands of Yunmeng Jiang and no longer be his problem, or they will stay - and be caught later.

When Jiang Chen, leading a group of adepts, literally fell from the sky onto the island, he realized that everything was a little simpler than he imagined. He expected to see a bloody altar and a dozen demonic cultivators calling for help from all drowned corpses of the mangrove swamps - instead he got a camp of bandits. Their cultivator was a single man who almost slipped off the island on a boat (what his comrades were supposed to oppose to the combat force of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect — he did not care at all saving his snake skin). However, his escapade didn't succeed: Jiang Cheng, who flew to the island from the rear, covering his subordinates from sudden surprises, noticed in time a shadow separated from the bustling crowd.

The talismans thrown into the air, flashed ominously red, but had no chance against Zidian. Weak. The demonic cultivator obviously had no spiritual weapons, only half-baked amulets. The flash of another talisman left rainbow circles in front of the eyes of the leader Yunmeng Jiang, but the whip of lightning had already reached the attacker's shoulder, paralyzing his movement. Having wrapped a string around the man, Jiang Cheng dragged him to the center of the camp, where the sounds of battle had already subsided.

As a result, it turned out that the gang had formed back in the lands of Langling Jin (Jian Cheng already had a plan to poke Jin Guangshan in the face at the next conference; it was a pity that Jin Sect Leader would again shirk the slightest responsibility!). They attacked the caravans, increasing the chances of success at the expense of the cultivator and his summoned evil creatures.

“It’s all that novice we picked up in Yunping! That brat clinged to the master, and wanted to become his apprentice. He even showed that place in the swamps... Old Shuo had a quarrel with him when the loot became plentiful…didn't remember exactly, through someone’s bracelet or chain…”

The bandit leader, left alive for interrogation and public execution, choked on words in the dungeon as the red-hot iron touched his scarred skin. He would have preferred to remain silent or swear at all the cultivators — but the head adept Shui Xiongshu would have torn the truth out of his mouth even with his bare hands. And Jiang Cheng fully supported him in this: at least now they can blame someone besides themself!

Because in the battle on the island, the squad lost its youngest member, Shui Fengzhi, the nephew of the head adept, his disciple, and his pride. Demons, an ordinary arrow, without any sigils! Shot in the left eye, Fengzhi died almost instantly, no qi could save him. 

His uncle was crushed with rage and black with grief. He asked for punishment for himself for having failed the trust of his leader and the team, at the very least - to dismiss him from his post. Jiang Cheng refused, knowing in himself that this would solve nothing and would not help to anything: did he himself have the right to be the leader of the sect after such a case? The answer was - yes, he had. Because no one else. And his head adept would have to accept it. Yes, it was selfish of him. But…“three poisons”, remember? 

Let Shui Xiongshu would at least console his heart a little. And Jiang Cheng has his own prey. 

“Where did you learn to control the river guis?”

“An old man taught me… he lived alone in the swamps near the village, totally insane… I went to him as a disciple, and when he died, took everything that was valuable and decided to seek my fate himself.”

“If you knew that you can cultivate, why didn’t you go to some sect?”

The captive grinned contemptuously, but Jiang Cheng was not going to tolerate humiliation from some nasty insect. The tip of the Zidian, responding to the owner’s wish, once again lightly patted the ribs, forcing out a cry.

“Sects? Which of yours would accept a rootless person who has only the clothes on his back?! Even if I had the talent — who needs beggars? And even if they accept me, so what? Wait a lifetime for crumbs from the high dais? And hear that you owe everyone until the seventh rebirth? To work without sleeping and see all the honors go to others just because they were born into the right family?!”

Jiang Cheng felt his teeth clench with anger and at the same time a faint taste of bitterness. Scum. A scoundrel. He hardly knew where he was aiming, any of the cultivators would suit him as the culprit of all the troubles. And the fact that the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader had something in his past that responded very painfully to these poisonous words was just damned luck. Nothing more.

“And this noble gentleman could not find a better solution than not to work at all, but to take gold along with other people's lives. Worthy deed. Obviously, the human form in this current reincarnation was the last time you deserved it. Have you still managed to train any disciples, except for the one your accomplices killed?”

“No, this snail was the only one who seemed promising… but I’m not a blind fool, I saw him greedily looking at my talismans!”

Jiang Cheng twisted his lips contemptuously:

“Just like you — at the talismans of the old man from whom you learned yourself? He also did not die of his own death, that's why are you so worried?”

The demonic cultivator was silent, but it was clear that the assumption had hit the mark. Well, sometimes karma does not wait until the next incarnation!

Shui Xiongshu insisted that the body of the gang leader be burned along with the body of the demonic cultivator. Jiang Cheng saw no reason to deny him this favor: after all, both were stained with human blood equally, if the first not more so. Still, it seemed that the late cultivator had a rattish heart and, if possible, would rather kill with someone else's hands, if he wouldn't be cornered.

Shui Fengzhi’s body would be buried with all rituals. What a pity, immense pity, that he had died! His family had been in the ranks of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect for generations. His father and uncle, along with Jiang Cheng himself, had fought side by side in the war — they had been on a mission in the borderlands when Lotus Pier fell, but had returned as soon as they received word that someone from the Jiang clan had survived. Worthy, strong, loyal — Shui Fengzhi was the same. 

They had not chosen to bow to the mercy of the Wens. But Jiang Cheng was sure — not only for to bow to him, the heir of Jiang Fengmian. Even if no one from his clan had survived that massacre — the Shui brothers would have fought to their last breath. Because they had something to hold onto in the past and something to strive for in the future. Like many others, like Jiang Cheng himself. Deprived of the heritage that their ancestors had built, their sect, they revived it within themselves first of all. And lineage played far from the first role here.

However…it’s good to say this after all finished well. What would have happened to Jiang Cheng if not a single person had come under his banner? Wouldn't the path that his martial brother had taken into oblivion, seemed to him more attractive than starvation? It’s good to think not. But…

“Jiujiu!”

Jin Rulan no longer only walked confidently on his own feet — this boy could sometimes not be caught by the adepts! Especially when he saw his relative in sight. Jiang Cheng had no choice but to pick him up in his arms. Sticky palms — had he found a tanghulu somewhere? — touched his cheeks.

“Jiujiu is here!”

“Yes, I’m. Did they offend you while I was away?”

“No! Jiujiu, zzap?”

Rulan enthusiastically reached for Zidiyan’s ring and Jian Chen quickly pulled his hand away:

“Don’t touch it! It’s not a toy!”

The boy’s brown eyes instantly filled with transparent tears, and his lips puffed up sweetly.

“Jiujiu is evil!”

“Oh, you brat! Do you respect your elder like that? Come on, get off!”

Realizing that he would soon be lowered down, and even scolded, Jing Rulan thought and held on to Jian Chen’s spaulder more tightly:

“Jiujiu is good! Jiujiu loves A-Lan! A-Lan loves Cheng-jiu! A-Lan missed his Jiujiu!”

A child’s thoughts are changeable, like clouds in the sky. Jiang Cheng was sure that he was loved even when he was “evil” — just as he could not argue for long about the traces of dirty palms on documents. 

However, the moment when Jin Rulan would be allowed to touch the “zzap” — that is, the Zidian — was still very, very far away. And Jiang Cheng could only pray to all the gods at the same time that he would not repeat his fate. 

Who does not wish the best for his descendants — does not wish the best for himself.

Chapter Text

Autumn was in no hurry to Yunmeng that year, although everyone was expecting its arrival: both the simple peasants, who prayed to Heaven to fill the stinking swamps that had formed on the site of once-full-flowing rivers due to drought; and the cultivators, who were also not deities and could not summon the rain even with the strongest arrays when the sun had burned all the drops of moisture from the air.

The lake on which the Lotus Pier stood did not emptied, but it had become significantly shallower. Ibises walked haughty on the muddy green surface, searching for frogs and insects under the dried lotus leaves. Brown flower baskets filled with seeds were already beginning to rustle softly in the wind, promising a good harvest. But considering the catastrophic drought, this was the only thing that comforted the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader at least a little.

“What about the weather in other regions? At least it started raining somewhere or not?”

“Zongzhu, unfortunately, even in Gusu and Qinghe it is cloudless. By all predictions, the heat will last for at least another month.”

“Watch carefully, for no weather manipulations occurred! Have you announced an order banning powerful rituals in all the cities?”

“In all of them, Zongzhu.”

He would have issued this order even without an urgent meeting of sect leaders and a common moratorium. It is one thing when a single rain cloud is moved from one village to another so that the crops do not get wet before harvest, when there are dozens of such clouds over the local lands. However, it is quite another case when magical rituals sharply saturate or extract natural qi in the midst of widespread heat or monsoon. Hail the size of a chicken egg or a hurricane that tears buildings apart from their foundations, destructive thunderstorms and tornadoes, sudden frosts in the middle of a hot summer are the simplest examples of the consequences of such interference. It is better to suffer with gritted teeth a little more than to risk irreparably changing the map of natural meridians. Cultivators, no matter how they flaunt their skill, are still not omnipotent; everyone, both involved and not involved, will suffer from the greed of one.

But all his experience and intuition tell Jiang Cheng the same: there will be those who are not guided by orders and common sense. They will definitely be. And it is he who will have to deal with all this crap!

It was clear that due to this crazy heat and the anticipation of problems, Jiang Cheng’s mood was even worse than usual. The herbal infusion brewed by the healer to relieve his headache smelled and tasted like a swamp. Jin Rulan was not there: at Madam Jin’s numerous requests, the baby was still sent to the Carp Tower to visit and see his relatives. This also did not reassure his heart: did he send enough escort so that his nephew would not literally accidentally get lost in the corridors of the Langlin Jin clan residence? Would there be another “unfortunate misunderstanding” (read as an attempt, in the language of this den of golden vixens)? Yes, Rulan’s relatives on his father’s side were in their right, but he was still restless and his temples ached. When will it rain already?

“Jiang-zongshu! A massacre in the market in Baihe!”

A thousand demons of Diju, that’s literally on his doorstep! Jiang Cheng jumped up, pushing the table back, the teapot shattered into pieces — not now, it doesn’t matter!

“What happened? How many attackers? Who's there, cultivators? Or demons?”

Several senior adepts were already waiting for him outside the door; two more had run from the training ground. Truly unstoppable, training in such heat!

The messenger — one of the younger ones, only recently appointed to this position — followed them along the pier, only a step behind:

“Commander Liao sent me here, saying he would try to stop the attacker. He’s alone, but… Zongzhu, he’s wearing clothes with the Qinghe Nie emblem. And a saber… By the time we reached the square, he had already killed at least three merchants who hadn’t had time to run away!”

“One of the Nie… Send a message to the Impure Realm immediately! To honored Chifeng-zun personally!

If this is what he suspects of the worst… If this warlike idiot, who was carried to Yunmeng by an unknown wind, did what he did, not with a cool head, but quite the opposite… Heavens, it would be better for him to be truly possessed by a spirit or a demon, and even to be a cold-blooded butcher!

When his detachment arrived in the city, Jiang Cheng saw a lone figure in gray in the middle of the square, holding out a broad-bladed saber before him. Surprisingly, standing in the middle of the stain of crimson and mutilated bodies, the man did not have a drop of blood on himself or on the blade of his weapon; he did not move from his place, breathing heavily and jerking his head sharply at every rustle. The boar from the clan emblem seemed to have taken on human form and this time turned against those who had arrogantly decided to tame the beast.

The purple-clad adepts stood silently at the exits from the square in rows of two or three, their weapons drawn. It seemed that the squad leader had summoned everyone nearby with the help of a signal talisman.

Jiang Cheng went down behind one of the rows and tried to find out the circumstances:

“Where is Commander Liao?

One of the adepts — still a very young girl, one of the novices who had completed basic training a year or two ago — without turning her head from the cultivator in the square, whispered:

“The commander ordered us to take the townspeople out. He hoped to delay him, buying us time, he had talismans, but…”

Following her gaze, Jiang Cheng saw a body in purple clothing on the left under the madman’s feet. More precisely, several parts of the body, dissected by powerful blows. And there was more than one body. It seems that Senior Adept Liao brought the strongest of the squad with him in an attempt to stop the Qinghe Nie’s adept — but he severely miscalculated.

“Has he been standing there for a long time?”

“No, he stopped immediately, when... when…”

The adept seemed to be in a stupor from what she had seen. And the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader understood why: witnessing such a brutal murder had an effect. He understood it really well.

How much longer would this precarious balance, the eye of the hurricane, last? The madman was already far beyond the point where his energy could be stabilized by meditation or an energy strike: waves of hatred and rage were felt by everyone present. What had set this mountain avalanche in motion?

More time after Jiang Cheng remembered how something in the adept’s face, even distorted by a predatory rage, seemed familiar to him. No, not enough to recall the name. Perhaps he had seen him in the Qinghe Nie delegation at the meetings of the sects. Perhaps he fought alongside the Wens, on the approaches to the Nightless City…or later, when the same city, abandoned by its previous ruler, witnessed the appearance of the greatest evil of modern times, the demonic Yiling Laozu.

And after all he also vaguely assumed that he could have waited for the appearance of one of the Qinghe Nie’s — perhaps they would have dealt with their mad colleague! He did not believe that Chifeng-zun would have offered any other solution, but…what if he did? Who knows, maybe this dangerous entity in human form could have been somehow restrained, chained, put to sleep at least!

And later, another pale face came to Jiang Cheng’s mind — similar to the living one, only with black veins on his neck, the young man from the remnants of the cursed clan, who had accompanied his martial brother in the Burial Mounds like a shadow. The same Ghost General who became the stone that set off the avalanche of events, the echoes of which are still heard today. Wei Wuxian was able to tame the dead corpse and restore his consciousness with the help of demonic cultivation - the current adept of the Qinghe Nie Sect was not much different from the same fierce corpse, except that his heart was still pounding in his chest.

But at that same moment, when the mindless eyes, filled with blood, fixed on him and Jiang Cheng, before he even had time to realize the threat with his mind, had already rushed forward, taking the blow of the saber on his sword — he had no time and opportunity to think about anything other than not letting himself be killed.

Yes, without exaggeration, the madman was a skilled fighter, and in a state when all restrictions and barriers from consciousness and strength were removed — extremely dangerous. It wasn’t often that Yunmeng Jiang Sect Leader had to fight such a powerful opponent. In fact, even during the Sunshot Campaign, he hadn’t had the honor of crossing swords with someone from the Qinghe Nie Sect in training: it wasn’t that he wanted to avoid a fight — he just had other things to do, and often he didn’t even have the strength to wipe the blood off his face with a towel before going to bed. Moreover he wasn’t on such friendly terms with Nie Mingjue back then that he would ask for such an honor. Certainly not as much as Lan Xichen. Except to watch their training in between, returning to the allied forces’ headquarters from another battle, tired and exhausted.

He knew Nie’s fighting style from treatises and observations. And he could only hope that he could upperhold brute force with speed and flexibility of movement. And with the Zidian. Jiang Cheng was not going to arrange a seemingly fair fight and throw his second spiritual weapon aside. This was not training, this was a matter of life and death, and not just the two of them. The Yunmen Jiang Sect Leader could not afford to miss and not win. 

He did not take the risk and strike at the heart. It was safer to cut off the head with a sword, until the opponent stopped, struggling with the lightning whip that tightly wrapped around him. Because even the decapitated body continued to thrash wildly for a few moments, until it settled on the ground. The fingers that gripped the hilt of the saber loosened and it fell next to the body, still continuing a voiceless scream full of hatred and despair.

The confused chaotic qi, saturated with suffering, anger and hatred, rushed to the sky — Jiang Cheng did not have time to intercept it, and how? The white sky, exhausted by the heat, swallowed it up. However, with his inner sense, the cultivator “saw” how the spirals of energy channels, similar to a den of disturbed snakes, were unfolding, how the fragile balance that had been maintained in anticipation of the autumn rains was shifting. The death of the cultivator leaves a mark on the qi, and death from qi distortion, multiplied by recent murders...

Jian Cheng raised his head — and a heavy raindrop fell directly on his cheek.

He and his adepts were waiting for the arrival of the delegation from the Impure Realm under a solid wall of downpour. He had to paint the talismans to restrain the cursed sword entirely in his own blood, because the cinnabar would have washed away in an instant. The corpses of the Yunmeng Jiang’s adepts and the townspeople were dragged under a canopy and covered with a canvas; the body of Qinghe Nie’s adept layed alone, as if surrounded by a protective circle — but there was nothing, only human fear.

Jiang Cheng was finishing painting the fifth talisman — and the cursed saber was still seething with anger and trembling, trying to get even with the one who killed its master — when a massive figure stepped out from the rain curtain.

“Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Sect Leader Nie.”

“It's our fault.”

“Mostly.”

Nie Mingjue frowned even more, his forehead, was covered with wet strands:

“Mostly? Was anyone else involved in the murders?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head in denial and handed the Nie clan leader the object he had taken from the qiankun — a chaotically crumpled piece of paper and several fragments of bamboo slats tied with silk.

“This was in your adept's hand. The other part. Small. But perhaps the decisive one.”

The Nie clan leader turned the received thing in his palms and carefully, trying not to tear it, unrolled the thin material. On a yellow background, a part of a circle was drawn with red ink, from which several rays emanated. The drops began to soak the pigment and the lines in some places began to blur into rusty circles.

“What was this supposed to be?”

“A kite. In Yunmeng, they have long been sold by the hundreds for children's entertainment and archery practice.”

“A kite? But what was it for...?”

Jiang Chen was surprised at his own indifference as he explained what he had understood from his first glance at the dead man's prey.

“To make the kite better visible in the sky — and also to see where to aim — patterns are drawn on them. Birds, usually... although in the past, the sun was more often.”

The palms holding the piece of paper tightened, squeezing it as if trying to erase it into dust, but Nie Mingjue quickly came to his senses and turned the evidence back. In truth, it was already difficult to do worse to these fragments, so Jiang Cheng ignored the impulsive actions of the cultivator.

“The sun... that's what could have pushed him to the brim... No, that still does not justify either his or our negligence! On my own behalf and on behalf of my sect, I, the head of the Qinghe Nie, admit guilt and debt for the actions of my subordinate. And a separate debt belongs to you, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“To me? For what exactly? I did what I had to do, nothing more.”

“For the last honor and dignity with which it was given. You killed him, didn’t you?”

“Yes. At that stage of qi distortion, this one didn’t know if he could stop the madman otherwise.”

Jiang Cheng knew that it sounded like an attempt at justification, although he was damned angry with himself: no, he didn’t have the means and methods at hand to do otherwise! And the life of a murderer wasn’t worth saving, especially at the cost of possible victims! But…

He had another square in his memory. And laughter, cold, inhuman, not at all like even the semblance of laughter. And a cry of despair that seemed to split mountains. A sword piercing the flesh. His sister’s eyes. And others eyes, filled with blood, that had closed at the moment when the last earthly thing ceased to hold the demonic cultivator.

But he would not remember that now. Neither that, nor the sun on the kite, from which, as it seemed then, everything began. A cursed vicious circle. Why did fate keep reminding him of the past? As if his own memory was not enough!

Jiang Cheng had not often seen the leaders of the Great Sect bow to anyone. And he had never dreamed of receiving a respectful bow from Chifeng-zun himself. So he was completely unprepared and partially stunned when it happened.

“This honorable one thanks the Yunmeng Jiang Leader on behalf of the adept who was freed from suffering thanks to your martial skills. For Qinghe Nie, this is the highest honor that can be received under such circumstances. At some point, this becomes the only way to escape the torment caused by the inner demons. You honored my adept as I would honor him, or anyone from my clan. As I wish to meet my own death.”

“I hope it doesn’t happen today.”

Nie Mingjue exhaled briefly, more like a snort, although the situation did not at all encourage laughter. Although who would understand them, these crazy Qinghe Nie adepts!

“I hope so too. However, this is still better than poisoned arrows and nets, like for some monster. Or death from cardiac arrest.”

Somehow it sounded really…dishonorable.

***

The result of the duel was the long-awaited rains, although the first days the sect’s cultivators, who specialized on the weather prediction and mastering, did not sleep for hours, tracking the ominous directions of the natural qi flows. In the Carp Tower, where Jiang Cheng arrived in person to pick up his nephew, whispers about the incident had already begun. It was good, at least not a single suicidal person dared to accuse him of violating the agreements on non-interference in the climate: no one could have predicted what had happened, firstly; and secondly, in private correspondence Nie Mingjue assured that the Qinghe Nie would take all the blame for this aspect as well. 

Jin Rulan was pleased that the heat had stopped and, having heard from somewhere that Yunmeng Jiang Sect was involved, he did not stop whining "Jiujiu, tell me how you did it!". Jiang Cheng refused with general “later”, “nothing interesting”, “just the luck”: although his actions were not something to be ashamed of, he was not going to brag about the tragedy. Although all the glory went to him. If only it weren’t ballads, not again! 

A few months later, visiting the Impure Realm to express his condolences and congratulations to the new leader of the Qinghe Nie, he couldn’t help but wonder: what if everything had happened right then? Would he have stood up to Nie Mingjue – especially Nie Mingjue in a state of qi distortion – in a duel? Pride and Yunmeng Jiang’s stubbornness claimed that he had; common sense, honesty and bitterness inside, left over from ancient, very ancient times — that absolutely not the case, except by a miracle. And the late Nie Sect Leader was right: it would be better this way that... the way it happened.

Although Jiang Cheng, no matter how hard he tried, didn't see anything heroic in such a death, or in death in general. He had enough of them behind him to want to add another one to the tally.