The Green Demon, an original story inspired by the chinese xianxia/cultivation setting.
summary:
“I cannot go against my orders, however much I want.” He shook his head. “It hurts me that we will never see each other again...”
“Because I’ll go to heaven,” Luson whispered, suddenly remembering the words inside a mist of memories.
“And I will always return to hell.” Fengmian concluded.
As sword masters and cultivators of spiritual energy, Green Hazes have been the ghost specialists ever since ancient times. Yet, Lin Luson, current Green Haze of the country, has lost his energy completely and fallen ill after his master’s death. The country is falling into chaos as ghosts and monsters get free reign.
Then a young man, Fengmian Fang, appears on his doorstep, determined to learn his ways and help him heal. But what Fang doesn’t tell him is that he is a demon, sent by his contractor to kill him once all of Luson’s knowledge has been shared.
To make things worse, feelings tend to have their own plans, tying the men closer to each other than any of them ever expected.
Chapter 1
It was like the hall was bathing in ocean waves. The sapphires reflected the sunlight onto the fluttering blue curtains until it hit the wooden floor in colours of the sea.
The sapphire emperor laid back into this pure blueness in fine robes the same colour.
They said every emperor chose one of the precious rocks in the mines, one in their favourite colour, and laid claim to all he could find of it. Still, it couldn’t be called a tradition yet, since he was only the second of his line after the great revolution.
“Your highness” Fengmian Fang kneeled, so his long black hair covered his orange eyes and the fangs peeking out from under his upper lip. Even as demon, his submission was all but an act. He’d had to accept his loss at this bargain, but a human life was so fleeting. It was only a matter of time until he was free again.
The emperor regarded him with strict, cold eyes. “Fengmian, you are late.”
“I’m sorry, sire,” the demon answered humbly. “Your last task took a little longer than expected. The bandits turned out to be with twice as many. I had to hunt all survivors as you ordered.”
A curt nod was all he received. He was just a demon. Praise was too good for him.
“I have a new task, one that needs great care.”
“All your wishes are mine to fulfil,” Fang assured dutifully.
The emperor simply ignored the words and stared at his biggest sapphire on the wall with a thoughtful expression.
“They once called him The Green Haze, The Nature God, Protector of the living. But now he’s just known as a lazy bum. They call him Tree Stump or Autumn Leave, as he’s become unmoving and uncaring, an old, rotten entity. The great sword master won’t even take a pupil, leaving us without protection against ghosts and your kind. I have warned him, but he will not listen.” The emperor sighed. “I want you to meet Lin Luson, get him to trust you and teach you what he knows. We need a new protector. Then you kill him as punishment for his crime of abandonment.”
Fang grinned slowly. Now that was an interesting task. He’d fought the last Green Haze. The master had been on par with his strength. He didn’t mind finding out about this strong spoiled brat that was left behind, learning his ways. As demon, he was the perfect guy for the job. He was strong and knew how to harness his large pool of spiritual energy. As immortal being he was way more patient than any human could be. He had gotten good at tricking people into trust. All taught by the sapphire emperor, who had beaten him at his own play.
“As you wish, sire. I’ll leave immediately.”
Lin Luson’s head felt like someone had hit it with a hammer. Even more exhausted than when he had hit the bed, he rolled to his side and regarded his cabin with half open eyes. The pot of incense on the nightstand had stopped smoking, probably the reason he’d woken up in the first place.
So tired.
He had to get out. The ghosts in the pits had surely become restless. If he let them escape, he’d never forgive himself. Even if he was a good for nothing who didn’t go for hunts anymore, this was still a responsibility he couldn’t abandon.
But he was so tired. His head felt like it was made of lead. How could he possibly raise it? In his mind he was already following all the steps he had to do and they seemed impossible to finish.
Just get out of bed first, he told himself, start by swinging out a leg.
Agonizingly slowly, he moved himself upwards until he was sitting. With a deep sigh he ran his fingers over his eyes, rubbing them in defeat.
If this was already so hard, it didn’t promise well for today.
Up, he told himself, Stand up.
Finally, he got on his feet and started shuffling to the backdoor. He didn’t bother brushing his long black hair, neither pulling on new robes, even though these were crinkled and messed up from the fact that he had slept in them because he couldn’t bring himself to take them off.
With bare feet, he entered the grass in his garden and stepped onwards, to the metal lids in de ground. Ominous howls rose up from some, others rattled furiously.
He shouldn’t be working on this in his current state. Any kind of weakness could end up in a break free, getting hurt or worse, possession. But there was nobody else to do this. He had to take whatever energy he had and invest it here.
Fiercest ghosts first, he decided as always. He shouldn’t end up doing those after the little ones exhausted him.
Supressing a sigh, he took stance at a rattling metal disk. The screams inside were enough to make a grown man run, but Luson stood his ground.
He raised two fingers at his chest, holding the palm of his other under it. Mumbling softly under his breath, he cited the spells he could remember even better than his own name.
The screaming grew even more vicious for a moment, then died down. The lid slid back into calmness.
For a moment, Luson stood and panted, his spiritual power wavering after the exercise. He really wasn’t the strong master anymore he used to be. Yet, he straightened his back and shuffled to the next one.
Luson’s head was ready to detach from his shoulders when he returned inside. With the last of his effort, he put some rice in a pan to cook, then slid down against the kitchen cabinet.
He was done. So tired, he could barely move. He wasn’t even able to make tea, instead he grabbed the bucket of water he’d brought in and dipped his face in to drink, so half of his tangled hair got soaked. Disgusting. But the only way to keep himself hydrated.
Then he sat there, waiting for any kind of spark in his head to move himself. When it finally came, his rice was a sticky brew and the water in the pan was almost gone.
This too, he ate with bare hands straight from the pot when it cooled down. Again disgusting. He hated himself for it.
Finally, he’d drunk and eaten so he wouldn’t fall ill. He could return to bed now. Just another filling of two root in his incense burner and he’d be good to go.
But even that couldn’t move him back to his feet. He stared at his sticky, gross hands, his head heavy and empty, bursting with pain.
Only a few knocks on the door woke him from that painful, apathetic state.
No, please, I can’t handle this. He groaned and dropped his face in his hands. Too exhausted to live, let alone help others.
“I can’t help you!”
Fang found the cottage with ease. It was somewhat remote, but in town everyone knew the place. However, when inquiring about it, everyone had advised him to give up. Few still came from far to ask for help, but the old Tree stump wouldn’t help anyone new. He rarely even showed up in town anymore. A lazy bum like that didn’t even deserve the name Green Haze.
Fang had thanked them with a honeyed voice, but taken no heed of their warnings. He wasn’t here for “help”. He was here to bond.
So he made his way up the hill, to the cottage and knocked politely.
“I can’t help you!” A hoarse voice called out to him from inside.
No footsteps followed, so Fang knocked again.
“I don’t work as The Green Haze anymore. Find someone else!”
Fang grinned. Lazy indeed. The man didn’t even take the effort of coming to the door to tell people off.
“I’m not here for help,” he assured with honey in his voice. “Will you please open the door for me, kind sir? I want to speak with you. It won’t take much time. I have come from afar. Please allow me a single spare moment?”
That seemed to do the trick, because after a moment of hesitation the door opened on a little crack.
Through the slid, a single brown eye met Fang. Next to it hung matted strands of wet hair. The green robes of the sword master were dirty and crinkled. Yet, even in this sorry state, the demon was surprised by the young man’s handsomeness. Surely, if this one would take care of himself and stick his hair up, others would be entranced by his beauty. Such a pity that humans tended to be uncaring of their own worth and end up this lazy instead. This man was a disgrace. A beggar had better hygiene.
“I have brought some wine and nuts,” he held up each item in one hand as he mentioned them. “Will you share them with me, sir? You can tell me about your past great deeds.”
“Is that all?” The voice behind the door asked curtly.
“Oh no, sir. I’m really just looking for a person to call a friend. Since you are living so remotely, surely you’d appreciate some good company on its time as well.”
It wasn’t enough.
“I don’t have time.” The door was shut in Fang’s face.
“I can wait,” Fang offered against better judgement.
“I’m busy, leave!”
Fang frowned indignantly, but turned around and left. Busy with what? Sitting at home doing nothing? Spoiled brat!
But he quenched the feelings and smirked. He’d have to come with a different plan.
Luson had hoped a better day would come so he could finally wash his hair, but it was all he could do to survive and reseal the ghosts that week.
When standing he felt so sick he wished for his bed, but when in bed he couldn’t sleep and lay tortured by headache.
Still, he moved out every morning to the lids, to mutter his spells and protect the people from the monstrosities in the pits. Then he’d go to the well, fetch a bucket of water to take inside so he could drink and cook rice.
Until one morning, a desperate voice rose from within the well, crying for help.
However bad he felt, Lin could never ignore these sounds of distress. Someone was fighting for their life in there.
He remembered his master, rushing to aid any creature in need, but there was no time to dwell on the memories. He had to act fast. The water in there could be ice cold and the gods knew how long the man had been stuck in there!
“I’m coming!” he shouted back. “Hold on!”
The cries died out. Perhaps because he’d been heard, but Luson was worried about the other possible option.
Swiftly, he tied one side of the rope to the wooden structure of the well, then bound his hands with ripped off pieces of his robe. He grabbed the other end with the bucket and slid down.
It was dark down there, but he descended until he could feel water lapping at his waist before he lifted one hand and called upon a light orb in his palm.
The cold blue light set the well inside an eerie glow, drawing out shiny stones and sharp shadows. Pressed to the wall was a soaked figure, desperately holding on to the stones. His black hair lay plastered to his neck and the red robes hung heavily in the water.
“Grab my hand.” Luson extended it. “I’ll carry you out.”
The man turned his head, then flung himself off the wall to the hand. He couldn’t grab it, but Luson got a hold on his collar, so he could throw him up and catch him at his chest.
A pained huff told him the man wasn’t just in danger of drowning, but hurt as well, but there was nothing he could do about it here.
Holding the man tightly to his chest, he swung the rope until his feet hit a wall, then pushed off on the stones. Jumping from one side to the other, he climbed back up to the light.
They were both panting when he lowered his load on the grass and fell to his knees. His stamina had degraded more than he’d expected.
“Thank you,” the man whispered, still shuddering, “Thank you.”
Only now, as Luson looked at him, he realized he’d seen this man before. He’d been at the door some time ago to drink and talk with him, but he’d turned him down. Had he been here for the same reason again? But then how had he fallen into the well?
“Let’s get you warmed up and treated inside.” This was not the moment to ask these questions.
He hoisted the man on a shoulder and carried him in.
“I’m Fengmian Fang,” the man told him under his laboured breath.
“Lin Luson. Now stop talking.”
He put Fengmian on the bed after helping him out of his soaked clothes. There were serious cuts all over Fengmian’s body, like he’d fended off a sword attack.
“Lie down and wait here.”
Luson grabbed some herbs he had lying around, together with some bandages. As he returned, Fengmian was already inspecting the wounds, despite his weakened state.
“I said lie down.” He pushed the man down against the bed. “Let me treat this. You need rest.”
There was a sigh, but apart from that, Fengmian said nothing and let the care wash over him.
Luson worked quietly and efficiently. Apart from these fresh wounds, the skin was perfectly smooth. No scar or damage was to be seen. For a moment he allowed his fingers to travel the soft, perfect surface, aware of how the muscles relaxed at his touch.
He’d been told he was handsome, but this man was in an almost otherworldly category. His face was fine and elegant, his eyes sharp and a strange hue of orange. Luson had never seen anyone like him before.
Curious, he sent his mind out for a tender attempt to connect, but he could barely find the other. The currents around it were so alien, he was swept into confusion.
“You have lots of herbs,” Fengmian finally commented when Luson was working on the last smaller cut.
“You should sleep,” Luson responded kindly. “I also have something against the pain if you need it.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
Luson nodded, grabbed his supplies and left to get the last few herbs.
“Do you go out yourself to find them?” Fengmian asked, his voice growing a little stronger.
“Yes, it’s easy for someone with my abilities.” Though he hadn’t been out for it for ages. His tworoot stash was shrinking uncomfortably low. “I can detect their presence.”
He handed Fengmian a bowl of water and a few poppy seeds. “Try to drink. Then these should help you sleep.”
“Thank you,” Fengmian repeated. “I will do all I can to repay you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Luson helped the man take his water and seeds, then lowered him back to the bed. The man’s black hair caressed his hands, leaving his fingers tingling. Carefully he freed it from the braids, so Fengmian would lie better. It was an interesting design not many men would take the time for every morning. A braid went from his forehead backwards to two others which started around his temples. At the back they were tied together and continued as one larger braid over the rest of the loose hair.
“Sleep well.” Luson whispered as the other sunk into an exhausted sleep.
As tired as he was himself, he still sat at the bed the rest of the day.