Zhao Wei brought out a wine jar from his storage device and gave it to Lan Xiaohui. Then he picked out another one for himself, and after they both removed the red cover, they drank and talked happily.
For Lan Xiaohui, her demeanor had been becoming less and less formal with me, and this may be because I have begun to earn her trust. Perhaps it was more than just trust, but my understanding of her thoughts is still too low.
However, with Zhao Wei she talked more openly and freely as if he were her equal and friend. In that interaction, I saw some familiarities between our relationship and theirs. But I am neither her equal nor her friend. I am her weapon.
The effect the wine has on her is not only obvious in the chaotic flow of her Qi but also in the presence of consciousness flowing through my vessel. I never experienced this state called drunkenness and I don’t think I would ever want to.
Lan Xiaohui talks about her past a bit, and I learn some things. Zhao Wei mentioned that he joined the sect when he was only fourteen years of age. Lan Xiaohui also mentions that this was the case for her as well. This particular age is a turning point for most cultivators — they enter the Qi Refining realm, and if they can reach the Foundation by the age of twenty-one, they are considered to have average talent.
For Lan Xiaohui and Zhao Wei, they reached the Foundation at the age of seventeen!
Zhao Wei even remarks that for two “martial masters” like the two of them, reaching the center of the Forbidden Ancestral Hunting Ground would be as easy as turning over one’s palm, but Lan Xiaohui, even in her drunken state, deflects the suggestion.
After an hour of reminiscing about their childhoods, the conversation comes to a stall.
Lan Xiaohui smiles. “Brother Zhao, I must’ve had a bit too much wine. Would you mind if I go to sleep?”
Zhao Wei gestures with his hand, playfully dismissing Lan Xiaohui. “Go, go. I won’t keep you awake, Sister Xue. I will finish this jar and then sleep myself. I got all sentimental,” he says, with a sniffle.
Lan Xiaohui politely bows her head. “Thank you.”
She lies down there, next to the fire, turns around, and covers herself with the wolf pelt. In her heart, I only feel tremendous sadness and disappointment.
Zhao Wei also does not stay up for much longer and lies down on the other side.
When the fire runs low on fuel and the only light it can muster is enough to illuminate a few steps around its origin, Zhao Wei stirs from his sleep, and slowly climbs to his feet.
Even in the darkness, I can see the cold expression on his face, and the ice in his eyes. His presence — his aura — is filled with disdain, envy, and ruthlessness that I’ve only come to see in demonic beasts, but even purer.
I am certain that I am the only creature that can see it, but to me, Zhao Wei’s aura appears like scintillating glimmers or flashes of light, like stars blinking in and out of existence, around him.
His envy; his rage; his hatred; they hid beneath his smile and kindness, like hiding a whole forest behind a few trees.
Humans are so entertaining.
He approaches Lan Xiaohui wordlessly and looks down at her for a whole minute. Lan Xiaohui’s eyes are closed, but I know that she is not sleeping. She is awake and aware and has been all night. Could it be that she also saw what I saw? Could she read Zhao Wei’s heart as I could, and see beyond the metaphorical trees?
Finally, Zhao Wei aims a kick at her stomach, and it is powerful enough to knock the breath out of Lan Xiaohui, and cause her to roll over. Then Zhao Wei steps on her chest and pins her on the ground, and she breathlessly protests his weight.
His eyes are wild — like an animal’s. Lan Xiaohui’s eyes, now open, hold no emotion.
“Did you really think I did not know who you are, ‘Xue Lian’?” Zhao Wei asks. “When I heard a fairy like you was reduced to a concubine, I laughed for the first time in my heart! You who would not even look at us Outer Disciples — you who had nothing but resentment for us. You dare speak of hardships in the sect?”
Zhao Wei laughed, but this laughter was not like before. This laughter was genuine and pure and filled with hate.
Lan Xiaohui was expressionless and silent.
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“But now look at you. When I saw you approach, with that tattered dress, I really thought the Heavens must be merciful — as merciful as the Black Tiger was when he only left you here to die. I had heard he shattered your cultivation. Not all rumors are true, I suppose,” Zhao Wei spoke with a resentful, degrading tone; like Lan Xiaohui was an object that was discarded. Another man’s trash. "But I was not sure it was actually you. The rivers and the lakes truly are vast!"
A tear glimmers in Lan Xiaohui’s eye, but her expression still doesn’t change.
“Now even I can have you,” Zhao Wei says. “What do you say, Lan Xiaohui? Become my concubine. I will treat you well.”
Silence.
Zhao Wei crouches over his victim, looking down at Lan Xiaohui with venom in his eyes. He presses his index finger against Lan Xiaohui's nose tip and smiles. His next words are filled with venom. "I lied about being a Forging Hall disciple," he says, nodding to the wine jar. "I am from the Alchemy Hall. My specialty is poison. It is called Yin-Yang Grass Wine. That is why you are paralyzed. What do you say?"
I knew that Yin-Yang Grass was toxic, but I did not know it could cause paralysis. But Zhao Wei miscalculated. I know Lan Xiaohui’s state best and I know that Yin-Yang Grass — the same herbs and pastes that Lan Xiaohui has been using for weeks to cultivate — barely has any effect on her anymore.
The way he looks at her, and crawls his gaze over her features, is something even I find distasteful. I know that normally this type of event would not concern me, so I can only assume it is because of my profound Dao of the Sword, and the ideals and principles it inspires in me that make me consider slaughtering Zhao Wei for daring to make such presumptions.
Unable to get an answer from Lan Xiaohui, even her body fails to attract his attention anymore. I understand why. Perhaps this time I am not the only cause of this disturbance, but I know that I am a large part of it.
Zhao Wei leans over and picks me up from the ground, grasping me in his hand. He holds me up against the sky and stares at my shining form underneath the moonlight, and I see madness sparkle in his eyes.
“Since you brought me this unfathomable treasure, I will grant you one wish,” Zhao Wei says. “Beg for mercy, and I will make your death swift.”
This time, Lan Xiaohui’s expression changes to one of cold disdain. I see the sparkles of her own aura rise, and her stars are white, blue, and red, and when they sparkle, they are like overwhelming pulsars. Bright. Impossibly bright.
“I only wish that in your next life, you are an insect,” Lan Xiaohui says.
The sparkles I see are not only her aura but also her sword Qi. It is intent. A ruthless, profound murderous intent that I had not even felt in even the most brutal of creatures here.
“You… comprehended sword Qi?” Zhao Wei spoke as he too saw the glittering lights around Lan Xiaohui; his surprise is so deep that it is on the precipice of shock and panic. Seeing Lan Xiaohui rise from under his foot, he takes a step back.
The sword Qi slowly begins to swarm around Zhao Wei like fireflies, and when he tries to swat them away with his hand, backing away from Lan Xiaohuo, they cut into his skin like razor-sharp blades.
As Zhao Wei stumbles backward, in a panicked state, he makes a mistake. If he had driven me through Lan Xiaohui’s chest then and there, there perhaps was a future for us.
Lan Xiaohui extends her hand toward me, and I feel her consciousness scoop me up, and her Qi flows through me. I am ripped out of Zhao Wei’s hand and fly into Lan Xiaohui’s waiting grasp.
“Wait! Mercy!” Zhao Wei cries out and throws himself on the ground, holding his sliced-up hand in the other. “Please! I was wrong! Spare me! Please spare me!”
He begged and kowtowed, bashing his head into the ground until his forehead bled. He called her a fairy, then a princess, then a benevolent Goddess. He begged until he disappeared from my perception radius.
Quietly, Lan Xiaohui walks into the darkness and her tears drip like blood on the forest floor.
After a while, I ask her: “Why did you not kill him?”
She wipes the tears from her eyes and produces a sad smile. I feel her grip on my hilt become tighter. Her hands tremble. “Even with my eyes wide open, I refused to see the road ahead,” she says. “Even if I cut him from this world it won't extinguish the poisons in my heart anymore.”
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