Chapter 93: CH 92

Chapter 92: Peace for a Hundred Years (III)

His eyes were wide open now, and if he opened them more, that layer of moisture brimming in his eyes would roll down his cheeks.

His nose was full of the fishy stench of fresh blood, brought by the wind and across Xuanmin's hand and fed into his nostrils. It would not go away. His black eyes reflected the shadows of those sky-high red waves and the still-trembling mountains, but his mind remained completely blank.

His senses were slowly coming back to him, yet he was still not convinced that he could see or hear again.

Or else why would Xuanmin's head be bowed this low? Xuanmin, who was always so cold and stiff, who barely ever nodded; his head was bowed so low that he looked like he would never raise his head again; or else why would the two of them be kneeling in front of each other like this, covered in blood, Xuanmin's hand leaning gently against his face, yet not a word coming out of his mouth...

The Buddha's bones finally began to take effect within the spell. Those churning, restless waves began to recede, and the trembling mountains began to ease.

And the golden threads that had thrown a net against the skies began to fade, too. As the wind continued to whip against their bodies, the copper coins in Xuanmin's hands quivered, then clattered lifelessly onto the ground, where Xuanmin had drawn a circle of blood. 

It was a small spell that he'd prepared in his last moments. Those copper coins, charged full of his magical power, in combination with the Buddha's bones, really would help Zuhong's spell to ensure a hundred years of peace on earth.

As the copper coin pendant fell to the ground, the patch of earth within the blood circle shifted and created a hole, into which those five gleaming coins slotted before being buried again. A faint golden glow began to seep out of that patch of earth where the coins were buried, and emanated outwards, like serene ripples in a pond, reaching out layer by layer, a hundred li, a thousand li, ten thousand li...

A light breeze tugged at a corner of Xuanmin's robe, revealing a small ceramic bottle that he'd been keeping in his sleeve. But the ceramic bottle had long been uncorked, and was empty.

And as the warm golden glow seeped past Xue Xian's body, some small red marble not even the size of a grain of rice suddenly fell away from his collarbone. It looked as though it had completed its mission –– it eight legs stuck out, stiff and unmoving. 

And where the red spider had been on Xue Xian's neck, a minuscule red mole smaller than a pinprick was perched. It looked different from the Spider of the Same Age's bite, and if he touched it with his finger, he would be able to feel that it was slightly raised from his skin.

But in that moment, Xue Xian did not notice all of that. He sat there frozen, looking in horror at Xuanmin, unable to believe his own eyes.

But Xuanmin's face was still on Xue Xian's face, colder than the snow in the north, so cold that it sent a chill down his spine. The skin on Xuanmin's wrist betrayed no sign of movement, no heartbeat, not even a tiniest bit –– it was terrifyingly still.

With that enormous dragon bone pushed back into his body, Xue Xian was heating up all over again, and that bloated, scorching feeling was pushing its way down his spine. He should have begun to sweat, but the sweat against his skin felt colder than ice.

The feeling of his bones being restored was deeply uncomfortable, and not that different from the pain he'd felt when they'd been extracted in the first place. But in that moment, Xue Xian felt none of it, nor could he even feel the gradual return of his life force. He did not think he even had the strength to raise his own hands.

......

Much, much later, he suddenly, finally, felt himself able to move again. A hand shot up to grip Xuanmin's wrist just as the monk's hand was about to slip away from Xue Xian's face. Xue Xian wrapped his fingers tightly around Xuanmin.

The hotter his own skin felt, the colder and more freezing Xuanmin's was in comparison.

"You..." Xue Xian began hoarsely. He'd wanted to call Xuanmin's name, but could only manage a single syllable before he lost his voice and his words were choked at the bottom of his throat. He'd put too much strength into his grip, so he had not just held Xuanmin's wrist, but had pulled lightly.

Now Xuanmin was tipping forward, and Xue Xian had to hold him up stiffly. 

Xuanmin's chin butted against Xue Xian's shoulder. One of his hands was grasped by Xue Xian, and the other hung lifeless against his side. From afar, they looked to be embracing, except one of them was dead.

As Xuanmin's weight leant into him, Xue Xian felt the tears brimming in his eyes tremble. Expressionless, he shut his eyes tightly, forcing them back.*

After some time, Xue Xian suddenly remembered something, and his eyes opened again. As he continued to hold Xuanmin against him, he freed up a hand and felt around his chest pocket for something –– and found it: the small white ceramic bottle, the one that looked exactly the same as the one that had previously fallen out of Xuanmin's sleeve, the bottle from the Cave of a Hundred Insects.

Xue Xian's fingers worked almost hysterically to uncork the bottle and shake the mother and son spiders out of it, and it took him several tries to pinch out the correct spider between the pair.

Without delay, he shoved the mother spider onto Xuanmin's neck and squeezed its shell tightly so as not to let it struggle or escape. As he watched, the mother spider twitched at first, but finally had no choice but to take a bite out of Xuanmin's flesh.

Xue Xian refused to blink –– he stared intently at the spot where the spider had bitten Xuanmin, stared until his eyes began to feel sore, but found no change, no wound, nothing.

His entire body was so tense, he had never in his life been so anxious about something. His thoughts raced but he knew he could not keep thinking... he thought he might begin to feel fear. 

The two of them knelt there on the devastated shore, facing one another, a silhouette of black and a silhouette of white. Eventually, the blood stains on the stone sculpture in Zuhong's spell evaporated completely, and those trails of blood on the ground were receding, too, so that the two hundred bodies laid out around the sculpture no longer looked so utterly grey, and began to flush healthily again.

They had only been wounded on their hands, and it would never have been fatal had there not been magic drawing out the blood from their bodies. Now that the spell had been broken, everything was going back to the way it had been before. Apart from those small cuts, and the drops of blood on their foreheads, they were safe and sound.

After a long, long time, Xue Xian began to feel cold, his body brought to a freezing chill by Xuanmin's lifeless temperature. Finally, Xue Xian saw a blood mole appear weakly and slowly on Xuanmin's skin. 

But the mole was impossibly faint, so faint that Xue Xian could not guess whether the bite had succeeded or failed.

In that moment, something with wings suddenly appeared in the sky above them and came hurtling over.

Xue Xian was still in shock, and did not notice until the black creature thudded onto the ground before him and hopped over to his hand. It opened its beak and let something dirty-looking fall away, then began to peck at Xue Xian's fingers, desperately trying to draw his attention.

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Finally, Xue Xian stirred from his daze and looked down at the creature –– it was Xuanmin's black crow.

That magical, almost intelligent bird had somehow made its way all the way here, yet did not appear concerned about its unconscious master. It began to hop up and down and nuzzled its head into Xuanmin's palm endearingly. Then it looked back at Xue Xian with its head tilted: it seemed that this was not the first time it had experienced such a tragic and hopeless scene.

Xue Xian stared at the bird for some time, then looked down at the thing that it had dropped from its beak. It was a filthy cloth pouch, and it seemed to have something in it –– when the bird had dropped it earlier, it had made a faint knocking noise.

Seeing that Xue Xian did not intend to move, the crow sighed and hopped to the pouch, nudging and pulling at it with its beak until the item inside could be dragged out.

Xue Xian was stunned –– five copper coins.

The coins' design looked the same as the ones Xue Xian had seen Xuanmin use, and even the magic aura tied to them was basically identical to Xuanmin's coins. Xue Xian did not need to touch them to know this –– he just knew. The strange thing was that the magical energy that gave the coins their aura... was also Xuanmin's.

The only difference was that the string along which these coins were strung looked bright and vivid, almost like new; but Xue Xian could tell that this was only a trick of the magic, and that these coins were at least a few hundred years old.

As the copper coins fell out of the pouch and clattered by Xuanmin's hand, they emitted a low clanging noise, as though, from somewhere across the vastness of time, they had found their master again.

Suddenly, Xue Xian felt a bit of feeling return to his body. The arrival of the crow and the reaction of these coins had made him come back to his senses, and it occurred to him that... Xuanmin might really never open his eyes again.

He turned to study the faint mole on Xuanmin's neck again, and maybe he was lying to himself, but the mark no longer looked as invisible as it had before.

Maybe it really had worked...

Xue Xian let go of Xuanmin's hand and flexed his fingers, realising that he had been gripping the monk's hand so tightly that, with this sudden release, a sour pain was shooting up his joints and knuckles.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Xuanmin, ready to pick him up and take him out of here.

But as soon as Xue Xian moved, some tiny thing fell lightly out of the folds of his robe, rolled down his arm and hand, and landed on the ground.

Xue Xuan paused and peered down curiously, scanning the blood-splattered ground around his feet until he finally spotted a red, spherical insect as small as a grain of rice. He frowned...

Having had the Spider of the Same Age on his mind, he was shocked to see yet another spider. As soon as he noticed its round body, he automatically thought back to the Cave of a Hundred Insects.

And then he realised that he'd really made a connection, that it wasn't a coincidence. As he bent down to retrieve the insect and flipped it over in his palm, he saw that its black belly had a streak of blood running across it.

It couldn't not have something to do with the Cave of a Hundred Insects.

But the Spider of the Same Age could camouflage: the color of its shell changed depending on its surroundings. If this was a Spider of the Same Age, then as soon as he'd picked it up in its hand, it should have slowly turned into the same color. But this spider did not change at all, even though it was still alive.

And... what would a spider from the Cave of a a Hundred Insects be doing all the way here? And why would it fall out of his sleeve, as though it had previously been on his body? 

Xue Xian froze, suddenly remembering what they'd encountered at the Cave––

When they'd captured the Spiders of the Same Age, Xuanmin had had his back to him. Xue Xian had helped the monk retrieve two empty bottles from his pocket, and the whole time, Xuanmin's hands had been clasped together. Xue Xian hadn't actually seen the spider.

Then, Xue Xian had taken one of the bottles and Xuanmin had given him the mother spider that he'd been holding, for Xue Xian to put into the bottle. At the same time, Xuanmin had taken the second bottle.

What happened next, Xue Xian had no idea –– he'd been focused on putting the mother spider into the bottle. And when he'd looked up again, Xuanmin was screwing that second bottle shut.

Xue Xian had had a moment of confusion: why did the second bottle need to be shut? There was nothing inside it, and it hadn't been open when Xue Xian had taken it out.

Now that he was thinking about it again, Xue Xian guessed that Xuanmin had caught more than just that one mother spider. Obviously, this little red spider had been captured in that moment –– and not just the one, but it had to have been a pair.

Back at the Cave, Xuanmin had said that there were two types of spiders being bred. Since this dark red spider was not the Spider of the Same Age, then it had to be the second type.

He remembered that, at the time, he'd casually asked Xuanmin what the second type was. Xuanmin's response had been short and simple: he'd explained, but also not explained.

Xue Xian put the spider away, still unsure what it was. As he held at Xuanmin's unbreathing body in his embrace, he suddenly wondered if this second spider was Xuanmin's backup plan, something that would help him...

But how...

Xue Xian gazed at Xuanmin; his fingers tightened their grip against Xuanmin's bloodsoaked robes. He withdrew his chin from Xuanmin's shoulder where it had been resting, and his lips grazed by Xuanmin's cold neck, and then the tip of his nose, and finally he buried his face into the crook of Xuanmin's neck.**

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* Omg let him cry lol it's not gay to cry but also they're literally gay so LET HIM CRY

** The position was very hard to decipher here I hope this makes sense??

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