𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.
❪ &&. @spectrcm ❫
“ right! a dead one is better. only dead people will listen! ”
those had been the last few words he had pronounced that were close to a semblance of sanity. after he had finally come to a term with the fact that xiao xingchen would probably never comeback, his eyes closed and he put a hand on the corpse’s forehead, seeking for a sign, any sign which would allow him to detect something that was remotely close to a few strands of fragmented soul; a soul that was so shattered and broken that even someone as capable as him would remain helpless and unfit to bring it back. it was the first time for xue yang to feel so disarmed and weak that he had somewhat returned to the innocent expression he had once worn on his face like a mere mask. while he felt the surge of water climbing to his eyes, he forced it back inside, the white colour of his eyeballs suddenly seeming bloodshot. a spirit-trapping pouch! he needed a spirit-trapping pouch to keep the remnants of xiao xingchen’s soul safe and sound. and whether or not xiao xingchen would like it, he would bring him back beyond the shadow of a doubt.
eight years had elapsed since, and xue yang had finally been granted the honour to meet the yiling patriarch in person. although he was already aware that there was no hope for the fragments of soul within the spirit-trapping pouch, he still had to try no matter what ways he had to use for the matter. but the events in yi city had taken an unexpected turn and with the seriousness of his own injuries, he had once again fled from the scene in the hope to keep himself alive a little bit longer, and return to the days that had brought him a little bit of what resembled happiness in his misfortune, even at the expanse of xiao xingchen’s well-being. it wasn’t his fault, after all, if xiao xingchen had decided to take his own life. maybe if he had not meddled with what did not concern him, he would still be alive to this day. maybe if they had met in another circumstances, xiao xingchen would still be giving him candies and smile to him in the moments others failed to address him even a little bit of kindness. but in an instant of self-reflection, xue yang maniacally laughed at his own ideas. how ridiculous of him was it to think he would have been any different than this in any other circumstances. this was exactly who he was. he had never been another xue yang, not even a softer, kinder version of himself. he was born like this.
after he had escaped yi city, four more years had passed by. there was no sign of him anywhere near the cultivation world and no sign of ’evil doing’ connected to his name anymore. all these years, he had been clinging onto that tiny spirit-trapping pouch dangling around at his waist, and he had sought for many ways to repair the fragments that were confined inside like broken glass. no matter what he had tried, everything felt utterly useless. his outbursts of anger worsened more and more with the time and he was more often than not completely losing patience; not that he ever had any in the first place. “ what use do i have for you, anyway!? that’s right, stay there, in your little and stupid gullible world where everything is perfect! and never comeback! ” but those were all empty words. because xue yang’s stubbornness was greater than anybody in this world; it was a strength of his that had driven all his life through vengeance and despair, what allowed him to finally make those responsible for what his life was pay for their crimes. and so he worked even harder to restore xiao xingchen’s spirit cognition. the first two years had given no results. neither did the third year. however, the fourth year, something felt oddly different. the weight of the pouch felt heavier at his waist and progressively, what had been only remnants of xiao xingchen’s soul became whole again. he had managed it. he had restored xiao xingchen’s spirit cognition through a miracle that drew a twisted smile on his face again after four years of painstaking hard work.
“ ha! hahaha… I did it. xiao xingchen! can you see that? I did it! ah, wait a minute. ”
xue yang instantly recognised how stupid his question was. of course xiao xingchen couldn’t see. he was blind. and not only was he blind, but his spirit cognition was still trapped in the spirit-trapping pouch. so, when he realised where he was, his feet dragged him back to the cave he had been living in for four years, with xiao xingchen’s body kept unscathed in a coffin he had personally carved for him, surrounded by multiple talismans that could scare quite a few people away if they ever dared stepping a foot inside. even the atmosphere was grim and macabre, but xue yang had never been too mindful of that; in fact, he even thought that it was fit to his personality. at last, with one final effort to draw one of his strongest talismans, xiao xingchen’s spirit cognition returned in his body, and he patiently awaited to see what would appear before him in the next few minutes.
“ welcome back, daozhang xiao xingchen. ” he spoke, his eyes full of malice once again.
For such a very long time, there was only black. The afterlife was not as they said, not as anybody said. But then, perhaps it wasn’t an afterlife at all. Perhaps it was something in between, awaiting the moment the remnants of his soul freed him from this strange limbo. He didn’t know if the blackness was better or worse than the other theories out there. After all, only the dead could tell you where the dead went and as cultivators, their task did not generally lead to a discussion on the afterlife itself.
Was he even that anymore? Were he still alive, could he ever consider himself to be such a thing again?
It would never have been a question at all, it should never have been a question at all, were he alive or were he dead. But everything changed. There had always been a certain blackness to the world around him after he had given up his own sight for Zichen, but it had become a blanket - no, a pit - since he had made the decision that he had made, a decision made from grief and the realization that there was nothing left for him in the world.
But the blanket lifted as the world told him that it was not yet done with them. He could not see. He could not breathe despite the feel of some strange inhalation he had never before experienced. He could not feel the air against his skin. But he could hear. He could hear that tell-tale voice in the dark and Xiao Xingchen felt himself shudder a breath, pale lips parting. A hand lifted, trailed across the skin of his face, the cloth he could feel over his eyes. It was clean. His skin was free of the blood he thought he could practically still feel as though somebody had taken care of the sorry dead state of him.
The voice rang in his head again.
“Welcome back, Daozhang Xiao Xingchen.”
His body jerked upright, hand grasped for something, for anything. His fingers curled around the edge of something wooden, trailing along the side of the box that he was in. It was like his mind was trying to catch up, trying to make up for so many years in the blackness, but it was slow. It was slow and it was difficult, and Xingchen choked out a sound somewhere between grief and strained confusion as his blind gaze turned toward the source of that voice. A voice he knew for it was a voice he had known for so many years. Once a friend, and--
He was struggling. He wasn’t processing what had happened and he felt his fingers grasp against the side of the coffin, his kneels digging in as he tried to push himself up somehow, all the while uttering small words. No. No. Again and again.
germansingergirl
vaporwave
baratheonpilled
stormborns
jbbartram-illu
areudirty
yousharknotpass
