Immortal

44

Dalian was studying Zhangwei, his skin alight with an eerie sheen. He seemed larger somehow, his veins more sharply defined, his nails pointed like spear tips. “I have been curious to test myself against the God of War’s might.”

“You did once,”

Zhangwei reminded him coldly. “And you ended up here.”

“Was this why you reaped your loyal soldiers’ strength, killing them all?”

My voice fractured; I was still shaken by Dalian’s horrific deed, worse than anything I could have imagined of him.

His eyes flashed like pools of molten copper. “You will open the gateway now, else I will wring every last drop of your cursed blood into it as a parting gift to your mother.”

I raised my head, glaring at him. “Do your worst. I’ll never open the gateway for you.”

Dalian’s hand shot up, the air quivering as a wave of light crashed over me—my shield shattering like glass. I scrambled to form another, but he raised his whip, writhing in his grip. As he flung it at me, Zhangwei moved between us, blocking the blow with his sword. The whip wrapped around the blade, but Zhangwei slashed it clean through, flinging the pieces aside. As light surged from Dalian’s hand, the whip re-formed, blazing as bright as new. Zhangwei attacked him again, his sword flying so quickly it was a blur—but Dalian evaded him swiftly; he was faster and stronger than before. His whip gleamed as it slammed down again, but Zhangwei dipped back—the lash curling harmlessly over his body. Dalian didn’t pause, lunging forward again, twisting at the last moment to avoid the tip of Zhangwei’s blade.

I glanced around, unable to find Lin and Mei—had they retreated to the barge? Aunt Shou was slumped on the ground, her face in her hands. It hurt to see her misery, but I dared not move, desperately seeking a way to aid Zhangwei. They fought with dizzying force, such brutal lack of restraint, my blood ran cold.

Zhangwei’s sword swept toward Dalian’s head—but the Wuxin spun out of reach, summoning waves of blinding light to engulf Zhangwei. As he struck at them, Dalian’s whip hurtled forth, coiling around Zhangwei like a snake. He struggled violently, the binds tightening with each movement, tearing his robe, his flesh, his blood spilling to the ground.

“You’re not as strong as before, God of War,”

Dalian mocked him as he stalked forward. “You should have taken the entire Divine Pearl Lotus for yourself rather than sharing it with another.”

I didn’t let myself think as I rushed between them, raising my sword to hack at Zhangwei’s binds. As I struck at the whip, greenish light flashed across my arm, the pain tenfold worse than when Dalian had lashed me before. I cried out—unable to stop myself—my fingers stiff, but I wouldn’t stop sawing at the binds though they were as hard as stone.

“Go.”

Zhangwei’s eyes slid to the gateway then back to me, his eyes ink dark. “I’ll follow.”

Liar.

“I’m not leaving you,”

I said fiercely.

Dalian’s laugh was one of disbelief. “What is this? Does your betrothed know?”

Lines creased his brow. “Were you even betrothed?”

“Only ever to me.”

Zhangwei’s gaze was still fixed on me alone.

I blinked through the sudden brightness in my eyes—though I cursed him in the next moment for clouding my mind with his declaration. If we escaped, I wouldn’t let this pass. He had never formally asked me to marry him before, and this was not the time for a proposal—God of War or not.

Dalian’s eyes thinned to crescents. “How easily you’ve tamed the God of War. There is no greater chain than love.”

“You’re wrong, and I pity you for it,”

I said scathingly. “Love is the greatest freedom in the world, but you have to be capable of yielding it, to grasp its true meaning.”

I aimed my sword at Dalian. He grinned, not bothering to raise his weapon—knowing I’d lose, that I was far from his match. As I lunged at him, I spun at the last moment to slam my sword against Zhangwei’s binds. My magic surged from me into my blade, coating the whip in a layer of frost. It held fast, but as I bore down harder, cracks formed along the whip. Zhangwei’s jaw clenched as he strained against his binds, his struggles tearing his wounds wider apart.

Dalian flew at me, his teeth bared, grasping my throat to lift me like I was a doll. As I kicked wildly, he knocked my sword from my hands. His nails gleamed, arched like talons, his grip tightening to puncture the skin of my neck. Choking now, I clawed at Dalian, reaching for my magic to fight back. But as his grip tightened, my composure broke, my power slipping away like I was snatching at water.

I kicked at Dalian, again and again, my legs colliding with his chest, his gut and thighs. If he hurt, he gave no sign of it, his hateful grin widening. Mustering my strength, I raked my nails across his face, digging as deep as I could. At last, he flinched, uttering a foul curse. I seized my power, summoning darts of ice that hurtled into him, scraping his cheeks and neck. With a hiss, Dalian flung me aside as though scalded—

Zhangwei broke free to catch me, then set me down. His wounds crisscrossed his arms, his robe shredded in parts, wet with blood. As he swung to Dalian, his eyes glinted dangerously, his guttural tone sending a chill down my spine. “I promised you death, but now you will suffer.”

I seized Zhangwei’s arm, glancing at the gateway. Who cared for vengeance or retribution; I just wanted us to escape. Yet Dalian’s power erupted in a violent onslaught, crashing against us, forcing Zhangwei and me to shield ourselves, trapping us in place.

Behind him, a large group of soldiers was heading toward us—Dalian’s reinforcements that had come through the mountains—my heart sinking at the sight. Yet it was Lin and Mei who led them onward, General Fang and Captain Lai among them, those who’d challenged Dalian on behalf of the Winged Devils. Their approach was silent as though their presence had been shielded. Zhangwei tensed at the sight of them, but when Lin nodded at us, some of my fear dispersed. They stopped a distance away, observing us intently rather than attacking. Had Lin convinced them to listen?

The first battle is for our people’s hearts. If they do not believe, they do not fight—and the war is already lost.

Dalian remained oblivious to the soldiers, his back to them as he faced Zhangwei and me, blocking the gateway. His attacks were intensifying, his magic a viperous green as it streaked through the air. Sweat slid from my face, our breathing ragged as we shielded ourselves. Dalian would never let us go; he’d kill us, unless we destroyed him first.

Raising my voice, I asked, “Lord Dalian, you claim the invasion of the Mortal Realm is necessary because the Wangchuan River is weakening. Have you investigated the cause? What has been done to restore it?”

I needed to distract him so he wouldn’t notice the soldiers.

“You have no right to question me,”

Dalian said with a sneer. “All know the river’s powers have waned.”

Zhangwei frowned, his mind falling into stride with mine. “The Wangchuan River’s force should not diminish. It is eternal, constantly replenished through the cycle of life and death. It would not wane—unless it was being drained. As the ruler of the Netherworld, Lord Dalian, you should know this.”

He spoke with such authority, few could have doubted him.

“You did this, Lord Dalian,”

I said loudly, so all could hear. “You’re the one draining the power from the river—first to pry apart the gateway, then to seal the skies. This invasion isn’t the cure but the cause.”

I paused, letting my words sink in. “That’s why there isn’t enough for your people, because you’ve been wasting it, hoarding it for yourself and your chosen. You control your people, keep them obedient—by keeping them hungry.”

Dalian was shaking with rage. While I’d been forced to tread cautiously before, afraid he’d lash out at Chengyin and me—now I wanted to shove him to the brink, to reveal his true face to those who served him, who deserved better.

I pushed aside my terror, gesturing to the piles of scattered armor around us, all that remained of the soldiers he’d killed. “You drained the Wangchuan River for your selfish ambition, just as you drained your own soldiers for their strength—you murdered them, even Captain Rao, a vile betrayal of those most loyal to you. Their bodies are no more, turned to dust.”

Silence fell, only interrupted by the sound of weeping. Aunt Shou’s body was folded over, her shoulders heaving. Though the wrinkles had vanished from her face, she had never appeared so worn.

General Fang broke away from the crowd to stride forward. “Lord Dalian, is this true?”

His voice reverberated with disbelief and fury.

Dalian swung around, freezing at the sight of the soldiers. He blinked uncertainly, his magic dispersing as outrage twisted his features. “How dare you question me, General Fang?”

The general’s expression hardened. “You didn’t answer my question, Lord Dalian. Did you murder our soldiers? Did you cause the Wangchuan River to weaken?”

Captain Lai moved to stand beside him, her white hair flying in the wind as her hand grazed the hilt of her sword. “Lord Dalian, silence is an answer in itself. Refusing to answer or even defend yourself, is akin to an admission of guilt.”

Dalian looked around at the soldiers, a hunted look in his eyes. General Fang and Captain Lai were not easily silenced. Their presence had purpose; their voices bore weight.

“Captain Lai, remember your place. Apprehend these traitors and kill the God of War. I’ll need the Lady of Tianxia a while longer,”

Dalian ordered. His tone was harsh yet there was a wildness in his eyes, a frantic unease.

“Lord Dalian, I am beginning to wonder who the real traitor is,”

Captain Lai countered as she raised her chin.

“You are treading dangerously close to treason,”

Dalian hissed.

“While Your Lordship is already waist-deep,”

General Fang replied.

Dalian’s face turned white. “Traitors—all of you! You will be executed, your bodies torn apart and scattered into the Wangchuan River, where you will suffer endless torment.”

Despite these threats, General Fang showed not a flicker of trepidation. “Lord Dalian, we ask you to return with us to answer our questions,”

he said steadily

More soldiers had drawn closer, approaching from the mountains. They stood behind the others, whispering among themselves as they looked uncertainly from their ruler to their commanders.

“Kill any who oppose me!”

Dalian shouted to them. The copper in his eyes shone so bright, it hurt to look at him. “They have been plotting with the villainous immortals to usurp my throne. They will lock you away to starve here while they reap the wealth of the Mortal Realm for themselves!”

“He is lying to you.”

Somehow, my voice emerged calm. Zhangwei stood beside me, his sword drawn, guarding me from attack. I gestured to the abandoned armor once more. “The proof lies before you.”

“You’re the liar! You bribed them to your side,”

Lord Dalian roared as he rounded on me. “She and the God of War killed all your comrades.”

Several of the soldiers glared at us with suspicion, their whispers gaining strength. Why should they trust us? Even though he was the monster, we were the enemy.

“Some, certainly,”

Zhangwei replied solemnly. “But these soldiers, including Captain Rao, were killed by their lord—the one they defended with their lives.”

General Fang crouched down among the piles of dust, touching a gleaming breastplate. “It wasn’t the immortals. Only one of us could have done such a thing.”

“Have you not wondered about the Wangchuan River? Why it fulfilled our needs before but no longer?”

Lin cried. “Lord Dalian told us we needed to invade the mortals to feed our families, but it was a lie. The barriers he erected along the river were not to help feed us but to starve us, so he could keep its power for himself.”

“General Fang, does she speak the truth?”

a soldier asked hoarsely, her eyes rounded in disbelief.

“Captain Rao was in charge of constructing the barriers. We knew the river was weakening, but we didn’t know why. We didn’t investigate as we should have, accepting his word,”

General Fang said, touching the gold bell by his waist. “I am ashamed to admit we didn’t feel the same urgency, that we grew complacent—a mistake we will not repeat.”

“Traitors!”

Dalian raged as he pointed at the general, his face blotched with fury. “Those who do not obey me will die!”

As his hands gleamed once more, an eerie light enveloped the bell at his waist. Fear shrouded me, the memory of the withered Wuxin still fresh in my mind. “Shield yourselves!”

I cried out. “Your bells are bound to his, he controls them. It’s how he killed the others.”

As shining barriers formed around the soldiers, Dalian’s power surged—an immense force, yet the soldiers held steady. Again and again he lashed at them, until at last, he faltered, lowering his hand.

Aunt Shou walked toward him slowly, her eyes red. The side of her face was swollen where Dalian had struck her. Yet her expression was calm, devoid of resentment, as she reached out a hand to him. “Come, my son. It is over. Let me look after you now.”

Dalian’s voice was almost hollow, his shoulders hunched. “Why pretend that you care for me, Mother? You only love Damei. You’d rather she was alive and I was dead.”

“Never,”

she swore vehemently. “We don’t trade or weigh those in our hearts. You are both precious to me in your own way.”

“What if I told you that I let her die?”

His eyes were wide, his last tether to sanity fraying.

Aunt Shou stared at him, the blood draining from her face. “No. Don’t say it. You couldn’t—”

“The immortals wounded her, but I let her die. The others didn’t realize she was still alive, despite her wounds. While they were all fighting, I could have saved her had I brought her back sooner, had I summoned aid. We will never know. When she lay hurt and bleeding, I just kept thinking how much better my life would be without her. She was weeping, whispering my name. But after a while, she stopped.”

His voice hitched, an echo of regret. This act haunted him still—and maybe he had been punishing himself all this while.

Aunt Shou closed her eyes. “It’s not true. They killed her.”

“None of the spirits of the Wangchuan bear a greater burden than me,”

Dalian said, closing his eyes. “I am tired, Mother. I’m tired of trying to be better than I am, to prove to you, to everyone—that I deserve the throne more than my sister.”

“We never asked you to.”

Aunt Shou’s hands balled into fists. “How could you, Dalian? Your sister loved you.”

His face hardened. “Because of her, nothing I did was ever good enough. I was never good enough. But now I am greater than all of you—and you will suffer for doubting me.”

All around, the air twisted unevenly like it was throttled, a great force roaring through as blinding light erupted from Dalian’s palms. A blazing pillar streaked into the heavens, crackling like a storm of lightning—a heartbeat before it hurtled into the depths of the Wangchuan River, setting the waters and its barriers aglow.

“The river!”

Lin shouted. “He’s destroying it!”

A rustling sprang up, the sound creeping down my spine. In the distance, the green lights of the waters writhed, moans rising from the river, melding into a cry that broke across the heavens—no longer of regret but of unfathomable suffering.

Lin, General Fang, and Captain Lai rushed forward, their hands alight with magic, channeling it into the waters—but the barriers along the riverbank gleamed brighter, towering like the tentacles of some monstrous sea creature. Their power rebounded sharply, the Wuxin soldiers thrown onto their backs, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths.

“We can’t remove the barriers,”

Lin cried in despair

Dalian laughed, a vicious sound. “Only I control the Wangchuan River; none of the other Wuxin can touch it.”

“Stop!”

I shouted at Dalian. “You’re killing your people. You don’t want this.”

A cold smile stretched across his face. “They betrayed me. If I die, let them die with me.”

He flung his arms out, light now plunging toward the gateway—his body jerking violently from the force. The shimmering pane shuddered, then crumpled like paper. “A final gift for taking everything from me. A choice: Stay, to help your enemies, or flee and leave us to our fate.”

He smiled cruelly, one last game. “You were never one of us anyway.”

As he collapsed to the ground, Aunt Shou rushed to embrace him. She was weeping as she channeled her power into him, but it was too late. He had spent himself—a final breath slipping from his chest as his eyes flicked toward his mother. How bright they shone, his mouth trembling as his body went still.

A thunderous sound tore from the gateway. It was closing—the marble archway shuddering as chunks fell away, the wisteria wilting on the vines that had shriveled and browned. Petals fell in a shower like rain.

“Liyen, we must go,”

Zhangwei said urgently. “The gateway is unstable, destroying itself. If we don’t leave now, we will be trapped here forever.”

My insides were ice, my mind engulfed by the cries rising from the Wangchuan, the shouts from the soldiers desperately fighting to restore the river—even as their efforts rebounded and hurt them in turn. It would be so easy to flee now, leaving the Wuxin to fend for their survival. They had killed my father; I would be avenging his death. Zhangwei’s grip on my hand tightened as though pulling me away. He had no bond to the Wuxin, knowing them only as enemies. While I had lived among them, learned from them, tasted their compassion. Even in this short time, I’d seen the many faces they possessed—not just the mask they showed to their foes.

I was selfish . . . but I wasn’t a monster. I couldn’t let this tragedy unfold, the destruction of an entire kingdom. I couldn’t close the door on them all to save myself—to preserve my own joy, precious though it was. My heart was breaking as I turned to Zhangwei, memorizing his face. This time, I would forget nothing.

“I can’t leave them to die. There is good here, too.”

I drew a long breath, yet the weight in my chest did not lessen. “The Wuxin can’t touch the barriers, but maybe I can.”

Zhangwei clasped my shoulders, his eyes so dark yet dazzlingly bright. “Once the gateway collapses, there will be no way out, no way home.”

“You must go.”

It was the hardest thing I’d ever said, my heart cleaved apart as I pushed him toward the gateway. “This is my choice. Tell Mother I miss her . . . that I’ll find a way back.”

I didn’t want him to leave, but I could never ask him to stay.

“Don’t be a hero; they don’t have happy endings,”

he said quietly.

“I’m no hero.”

He pulled me into his arms tightly. “You have always been stronger than me.”

I let myself stay in his embrace for a heartbeat, for one last perfect moment. Then I broke away, turning to the river—the pain so sharp, I couldn’t breathe.

Zhangwei caught my hand, a fierce glitter in his eyes. “Where you go, I go.”

I wanted to tell him to leave me, that we would be strong whether we were together or apart—that we weren’t the romantic fools who would die of heartbreak without the other. But if I was honest, I wanted him with me.

“You would stay here, with me?”

Tears fell, sliding down my face—when had they formed?

“Forever,”

he said. “If you’ll have me.”

“I want you for longer than that,”

I whispered.

His fingers slipped between mine. “Keep your word.”

Zhangwei and I raced to the shoreline. Lin’s face was ashen as she stood with the other soldiers, channeling their magic into the distant barriers though it seemed futile.

A loud crash erupted behind us, the gateway to Tianxia collapsing. Our only way home had gone . . . but there was no time for regret. Magic surged from Zhangwei, weaving into mine—scarlet fire, white bands of ice, braiding in chaotic harmony as it streaked toward the barriers of the Wangchuan. It struck, not rebounding like the magic of the others—the barriers quivering but holding fast. My pulse raced; could we do this? Or would Zhangwei and I die here with those who were meant to be our enemies? Except they weren’t enemies anymore.

Zhangwei and I clasped our hands, our power sweeping from us, as much as we could grasp. Our breaths came harshly, our energy spilling in violent force, twining and writhing together. At last, the barriers cracked, then shattered into fragments—the bells the Wuxin wore falling soundlessly to the ground. The cries from the Wangchuan River softened to murmurs, the roiling waters settling into a soothing rhythm.

I swayed on my feet, overcome by a wave of exhaustion. Zhangwei caught me, sliding an arm across my shoulders, though his heart was racing too. I couldn’t speak for a long while, our arms locked around each other, a lightness and weight crashing through me all at once.

“You stayed.”

My voice shook with disbelief once reality began sinking in.

“How could you think I wouldn’t?”

He tilted my face up to his, his words pulsing with emotion. “I’ve chased you across the skies and earth, to the Netherworld itself. I will never let you go again.”

A lump rose in my throat, my joy laced with pain at his sacrifice. “I wish I didn’t take you from your home.”

He pulled me closer, running his hand along my back. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating to mine. There was nothing more beautiful in the world.

“I am home,”

he whispered.