Chapter 108: Hidden Edge, Part Twenty-Two: 2

If this strike found its mark, then even if it could not subdue Nie Mingjue, it would at least buy a little time. But the sword, just now flooded with too much Spiritual Power in Su She's sudden burst, had been driven past the limit it could bear, and halfway through the swing it snapped, with a ringing clang, into several pieces. And Nie Mingjue's palm landed square upon his chest.

Su She's brilliance vanished in an instant. He had not even the time to spit out a mouthful of blood, to leave some last word whether dignified or savage; in a single breath the life in his eyes was snuffed out.

Jin Guangyao, slumped at Lan Xichen's side, saw it too. Whether from the blood that poured ever more violently from his severed arm and his belly, the pain of it terrible, or from some other cause, there was a faint glimmer of tears in his eyes. But he was given no chance to catch his breath or lick his wounds: having drawn back his hand, Nie Mingjue turned again, glaring toward him with a tiger's hunger.

On that hard, rigid face the cold, severe scrutiny was exactly as it had been in life — precisely the look Jin Guangyao feared most. The very tears were frightened back into him, and in a trembling voice he begged for help: ‘Er-ge…’

Lan Xichen turned his blade about, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji each quickened their melody. Yet the whistling had already been broken, and to make it take hold again was far harder than before. Just then a voice cried out from the side: ‘Wei Wuxian!’

Wei Wuxian answered at once: ‘What?’

Only after answering did he realize the one who had called him was Jiang Cheng, and he felt a flicker of surprise. Jiang Cheng did not reply directly but drew something from his sleeve and flung it up with a flick of his hand. Wei Wuxian caught it by reflex and looked down. A flute-body of glossy black lacquer, a tassel of vivid red.

The ghost flute Chenqing!

The moment his hand touched the flute he knew better than any other, Wei Wuxian had no room left even for astonishment; without a second thought he raised it to his lips and called, ‘Lan Zhan!’

Lan Wangji gave the faintest nod, and with no need for further words the qin and the flute sounded together. The qin like an icy spring, the flute like a bird in flight — one suppressing, one luring. Beneath the two of them in concert, Nie Mingjue's body gave a lurch, and at last, half by force, he drew his steps away from before Jin Guangyao.

Step by step, under the command of qin and flute in concert, he moved stiffly a second time toward that empty coffin, and step by step Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji drew closer with him. The moment he tumbled into the coffin, the two of them, without a word between them, kicked at both ends of the lid lying on the ground, and the heavy lid flew up and dropped down. Lightly Wei Wuxian flipped onto the head of the coffin, slid Chenqing back into his belt with his left hand, swiftly bit open his right forefinger, and like flowing cloud and running water drew across the lid a whole string of soaring, dragon-and-phoenix glyphs that dripped crimson, never pausing for an instant, one unbroken stroke to the end.

Only then did the beast's snarling and howling within the coffin slowly cease. Lan Wangji pressed down the trembling seven strings and stilled the qin's voice beneath his fingers. Wei Wuxian let out a soft breath, sensed carefully for a while, and once sure there was no force left beneath the lid, finally stood and said, ‘Quite a temper, isn't he.’

He stood atop the coffin, far higher up; Lan Wangji set down the qin and, with his pale-colored eyes, looked up at him. Wei Wuxian lowered his head, and his right hand could not help scratching at that clean, fair face — whether by accident or on purpose, he left a few crimson streaks of blood across it. Lan Wangji paid it no mind and said, ‘Come down.’

Smiling, Wei Wuxian jumped down, and was caught squarely in his arms.

As things quieted on this side, on the other Nie Huaisang began to wail in pain.

He said, ‘Xichen-ge! Come quick and see whether my leg's still joined to my body!’

Lan Xichen walked over, held him still, and looked him over. ‘Huaisang, it's fine, there's no need to be so frightened. The leg isn't severed. It's only pierced in one place.’

Nie Huaisang said in terror, ‘Pierced! How can I not be frightened if it's pierced! Did it go all the way through? Xichen-ge, save me!’

Lan Xichen, caught between laughter and tears, said, ‘It isn't that serious.’

Nie Huaisang was still rolling about on the ground clutching his leg; knowing he feared pain most of all, Lan Xichen took a medicine bottle from his robes, put it into Nie Huaisang's hand, and said, ‘For the pain.’

Nie Huaisang hurriedly took the medicine and swallowed it, saying as he ate, ‘How could I be so unlucky, snatched up out of nowhere along the way by that Su Minshan, and even as he was about to flee he still had to stab me! Doesn't he know that to deal with me he could just shove me aside? Was there any need for blade and sword…’

Lan Xichen rose and turned back. Jin Guangyao had collapsed to the ground, his face white as paper, his hair slightly disheveled, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, utterly wretched. Perhaps because the pain at his severed arm was too fierce, he could not help moaning softly twice. He lifted his eyes to look at Lan Xichen. Though he said nothing at all, this very sight of him cradling his severed wrist, and that look of utmost misery in his eyes, made it hard not to feel pity stir.

Lan Xichen looked at him for a while, sighed, and in the end took out, after all, the medicine he carried with him.

Wei Wuxian said, ‘Sect Leader Lan.’

Lan Xichen said, ‘Young Master Wei, in this state of his he should be able to do nothing more. If he isn't treated soon, I fear he'll die here on the spot. And there is much still left unanswered.’

Wei Wuxian said, ‘Sect Leader Lan, I understand. I'm not telling you not to save him — I'm warning you to be careful of him. Best to silence him, and not let him speak again.’

Lan Xichen gave a slight nod and said to Jin Guangyao, ‘Sect Leader Jin, you heard. Please make no more pointless moves. Otherwise, to be safe, at any move from you I will show no mercy…’ He drew a deep breath and said, ‘and take your life.’

Jin Guangyao nodded and said, faint and low, ‘Many thanks, Zewu-Jun…’

Lan Xichen bent down and, with care and caution, tended the wound at his severed wrist; Jin Guangyao trembled the whole while. Seeing the sworn brother who once stood in boundless glory fallen now to such a state, Lan Xichen too did not know what to say, and could only sigh within his heart.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji walked together to the corner. Wen Ning still lay half-collapsed in an awkward posture against Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling. Wei Wuxian laid him flat on the ground and examined the black hole in his chest, much troubled. ‘Look at the state of you… what on earth am I supposed to plug it with.’

Wen Ning said, ‘Young Master, is this very serious…’

Wei Wuxian said, ‘Not serious. You've no use for the organs in there anyway. But it's unsightly.’

Wen Ning said, ‘I don't need to look good…’

Jiang Cheng was silent; Jin Ling looked as though he wanted to speak and did not.

Over there Lan Xichen was tending Jin Guangyao's wound; seeing him near fainting from the pain, Lan Xichen, who had meant to use the moment to chastise him a little, in the end could not bear it in his heart, and turned to say, ‘Huaisang, that bottle of medicine from before — give it to me.’

Nie Huaisang, having taken two pills and stopped the pain, had tucked the bottle away in his robes, and said hastily, ‘Oh, right.’ He bent his head and rummaged a while, fished it out, and was just about to hand it to Lan Xichen when suddenly his pupils contracted and, in absolute terror, he cried, ‘Xichen-ge, behind you!!!’

Lan Xichen had never set down his guard against Jin Guangyao, keeping one nerve drawn taut all along; seeing Nie Huaisang's expression, and with that startled cry, his heart went cold, and without a second thought he drew his sword and thrust it behind him.

Jin Guangyao was run through, square in the chest, his whole face filled with shock.

The others too were startled by this sudden turn. Wei Wuxian shot to his feet. ‘What's going on?!’

Nie Huaisang said, ‘I, I, I… just now I saw san-ge — no, I saw Sect Leader Jin reaching a hand behind him, I don't know whether…’

Jin Guangyao looked down at the sword running through his chest, his lips working as he tried to speak, but since the Silencing Spell had been laid on him, he had words to argue and no way to voice them. Wei Wuxian felt something was off about the scene, and before he could ask, Jin Guangyao coughed up a great mouthful of blood and said hoarsely, ‘Lan Xichen!’

He had, astonishingly, forced his own way clean through the Silencing Spell.

Jin Guangyao was now wounded from head to foot — his left hand scorched by the poison smoke, his right wrist severed, a piece gone from his belly, his whole body spattered with blood; a moment ago he could barely even sit, yet now, whether or not it was the last flaring of a dying lamp, he rose to his feet by his own strength and shouted again, full of hatred, ‘Lan Xichen!’

Lan Xichen looked utterly disappointed, and utterly grieved. ‘Sect Leader Jin, I told you. If you moved again, I would show no mercy.’

Jin Guangyao spat viciously and said, ‘Yes! You did say so. But did I?!’

In front of others he had always worn a face of gentle refinement and graceful bearing; now, astonishingly, he showed so coarse and savage a side. Seeing him so wildly out of character, Lan Xichen too sensed something amiss and at once turned back to look at Nie Huaisang. Jin Guangyao laughed aloud. ‘Enough! What are you looking at him for? Don't bother! What could you possibly see? Even I never saw through him in all these years. Huaisang, you really are something.’

Nie Huaisang was struck dumb, as though this sudden accusation had frightened the very words out of him. Jin Guangyao said with bitter hatred, ‘So this is how I fall — at your hands…’

He braced himself, meaning to make his way over to Nie Huaisang, but a sword still ran through his heart, and at a single step his face betrayed at once his agony. Lan Xichen could neither deal him the killing blow nor rashly withdraw the sword, and blurted, ‘Don't move!’

And indeed Jin Guangyao could move no further. With one hand he gripped the blade at his chest, steadied himself, spat out a mouthful of blood, and said, ‘What a fine ‘ask me thrice and thrice I know nothing’! No wonder… hidden all these years — what hard work it must have been for you!’

Nie Huaisang stammered, ‘Xichen-ge, believe me, just now I really did see him…’

Jin Guangyao's face was ferocious as he barked, ‘You!’

He made to lunge at Nie Huaisang again, and the sword sank another inch into his chest; Lan Xichen too barked, ‘Don't move!’

He had suffered at Jin Guangyao's hands countless times before, been taken in by him countless times, and this time too could not help his wariness, suspecting that, exposed by Nie Huaisang in the very act, Jin Guangyao had bitten back deliberately in his desperation, only to draw his attention away once more. Jin Guangyao read the meaning in his eyes with the greatest ease, and in the extremity of his fury laughed instead. ‘Lan Xichen! In this life of mine I have lied past counting and harmed past counting — as you say, killed my father, my brother, my wife, my son, my teacher, my friend; what wickedness under heaven have I not done!’

He drew in a breath and said hoarsely, ‘But you alone — you I never once meant to harm!’

Lan Xichen was stunned.

Jin Guangyao gasped a few more breaths, gripping his sword, and said through gritted teeth, ‘…When the Cloud Recesses was burned and you fled abroad, who was it that saved you from fire and flood? When the Gusu Lan Clan rebuilt the Cloud Recesses afterward, who was it that helped with all his might? In all these years, when did I ever suppress the Gusu Lan Clan — when did I not support you in every way? Apart from this once, when I held your Spiritual Power down, when did I ever wrong you or your clan? When did I ever claim a debt of gratitude from you!’

Hearing these accusations, Lan Xichen found he could not bring himself to use the Silencing Spell on him again. Jin Guangyao said, ‘Su Minshan repaid me thus merely because, back then, I remembered his name. And you — Zewu-Jun, Sect Leader Lan — you, no differently than Nie Mingjue, cannot abide me either, will not grant me so much as a single way out!’

As he finished, Jin Guangyao suddenly hurtled backward; Shuoyue tore free from his chest, drawing out a spray of blood. Jiang Cheng shouted, ‘Don't let him get away!’

In two strides Lan Xichen was upon him and seized him again without the slightest effort. In his present state Jin Guangyao, run however fast, could not have got far — even Jin Ling could have caught him blindfolded. Besides, wounded in many places and struck through by a fatal blow, he was long past needing to be guarded against. But Wei Wuxian suddenly understood and shouted, ‘He doesn't mean to flee!!! Zewu-Jun, get away from him!’

Already too late: the blood from Jin Guangyao's severed limb had run down onto that coffin, and the trickling, dripping blood crept over the place Wei Wuxian had painted before, breaking the talisman, then slipped along the seam down into the coffin.

And Nie Mingjue, already sealed away, burst from the coffin with a roar!

The lid split into four and shattered; one pale, great hand clenched around Jin Guangyao's throat, and the other reached for Lan Xichen's throat.

Jin Guangyao did not mean to flee at all — he meant, with his last breath, to lure Lan Xichen over to Nie Mingjue, that they might perish together!

Lan Wangji loosed Bichen, hurtling it like wind and lightning to thrust at the spot; but Nie Mingjue scarcely feared such immortal weapons at all, and even were Bichen to strike him, it would most likely fail to keep him from closing further the hair's breadth between his hand and Lan Xichen's throat.

Yet just as that hand was a hair's breadth from clenching round Lan Xichen's neck, Jin Guangyao struck a sudden palm to his chest with his ruined left hand and shoved Lan Xichen clear.

He himself was seized by the throat by Nie Mingjue and dragged into the coffin, lifted high like a held-up rag doll, the sight of it horrifying beyond words. With his one remaining hand Jin Guangyao pried at Nie Mingjue's steel-hard grip, writhing without end in his agony, struggling with his hair fallen wild, fierce light shooting from his eyes, and with his voice torn ragged he cursed at the top of his lungs, ‘Nie Mingjue, fuck your mother! You think I'm really afraid of you?! I—’

He retched up a mouthful of blood wrung out in utter agony, and everyone present heard, cruelly and clearly, a single ‘crack, crack.’

From Jin Guangyao's throat came a faint, choking whimper as the breath went out of him. Jin Ling's shoulders shuddered; he shut his eyes and covered his ears, not daring to hear or look any longer.