Chapter 81: Loyal Heart, Nineteen (3)

Wei Wuxian quickly folded the two papers and tucked them back into his robes, saying with feigned surprise: ‘I didn't see wrong, did I? You actually still have Spiritual Power about you. Congratulations, congratulations. But may I ask — if you weren't up to no good, why hide the fact that you never lost your Spiritual Power at all?’

These two papers were, of course, no torn remnants of the Collection of Turmoil seized at Koi Tower, but the strange melody Lan Wangji had copied out by hand in the Forbidden Library — the very one Jin Guangyao had played. At the time, Lan Wangji had left one copy with Lan Xichen for comparison, and Wei Wuxian had offhandedly pocketed both his own and Lan Wangji's and carried them on his person. Just now he had simply drawn them out to deceive, setting Su She to suspicion and unease; and with the taunts he had earlier laced through his words, goading Su She again and again, sure enough the man was left restless and rattled. In the end, without need of any prompting from Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji made one sudden test, and Su She gave himself away.

The crowd scattered to dodge. In truth there was no need, for when Lan Wangji moved he was as he was when Wei Wuxian spoke — pressing step by step, leaving no room — and Su She had to meet him with all his strength merely to keep from falling behind. He stumbled back to the foot of the steps, lowered his head, and saw beneath his feet the red curse array. Lan Wangji's expression hardened; Wei Wuxian thought, ‘This is bad — he means to wreck the array we only just finished mending!’

Sure enough, Su She bit through the tip of his tongue and, holding a mouthful of blood, spat it across the floor, the dense spatter blotting out the dim and indistinct red markings beneath. Lan Wangji had no leisure left to grapple with him; sweeping his left hand along Bichen's edge, he tried to redraw the array. Seizing the moment, Su She fished out a Talisman Casting and hurled it to the ground, where a surge of blue flame and rolling smoke billowed up.

A Teleportation Talisman!

The grave robber at the Liyang Chang Clan Cemetery had been familiar with the swordsmanship of the Gusu Lan Clan, and Su Minshan, an outside-surname disciple raised within the Lan family, fit that condition exactly. The Mist-Faced Man who had appeared again and again was Su She!

Wei Wuxian crouched down beside Lan Wangji and said, ‘How is it?’

Lan Wangji traced at the ground for a while with his bleeding fingers, then shook his head. The fresh blood had wholly buried and ruined the original curse-mark; it could not be brought back. Wei Wuxian took up his hand, wiped away the blood and ash with his own sleeve, and said, ‘If it's no use, stop drawing.’

The array was on the point of breaking, tottering on its last legs. That cluster of Moling Su Clan disciples wore blank faces; plainly Su She had never told them that what he played was the wrong tune, nor told them how to keep from losing their Spiritual Power. Which was to say that, in the original design, this cluster of Moling Su Clan disciples, like everyone else, had been meant to die. Terrified that others might bear them a grudge and come to vent their revenge, they huddled into a knot. But the Demon-Subduing Cave was already steeped in panic, and few had any thought to spare for revenge. Several clan heads gripped their sons and charged them: ‘When the horde rushes in, guard yourself, find a way out, and live no matter what — do you hear me?!’

Hearing this, Jin Ling felt a sour ache, and somewhere at the bottom of his heart a small hope that his uncle might say the same words to him; he waited a good while and saw no sign of it, and could not help staring hard at him. He stared so hard that Jiang Cheng at last turned his gaze back, the gloom in it thinning a little, only to knit his brows: ‘What's wrong with your eyes?’

‘……’ Jin Ling said, rather put out, ‘Nothing!’

Wei Wuxian had torn off a clean length of sleeve to clean and bind the wound on Lan Wangji's hand when a figure suddenly burst out from behind, hacking down with a sword. Lan Wangji flicked out a finger of his right hand — a ring of metal on stone — and bare-handed knocked the reckless blade aside. Wei Wuxian fixed his eyes on the man and said, ‘How is it you again?’

Driven back several steps by the force of that flick, the man fell to the ground — it was Yi Weichun. His eyes were blood-red; sword in hand, he said, ‘Wei Wuxian, I don't believe a single word you just said!’

Wei Wuxian said, ‘The thing's out in the open — even Su She drew his sword and ran. What more is there for you not to believe?’

Yi Weichun hacked down with his sword again, roaring, ‘I don't believe it! Whatever you say, I won't believe it!’

Hatred will blind a man's eyes, leaving him wholly unwilling to grant anything that might favor the one he hates.

At that very moment, several cries of sheer terror came from up ahead: ‘It's broken!’

‘The array's broken!’

‘They've rushed in!’

Wen Ning flung aside a row of ragged Fierce Corpses with his bare hands, yet in the end he had only one man's body, and the Demon-Subduing Cave, stripped of the blood array's barrier, could not in the end hold back the corpse-horde surging in like a black tide. The stench of rot and the sound of roaring flooded the whole hollow cave in an instant.

Jin Ling had never seen so many Fierce Corpses, nor ever so close; he could not stop his hair standing on end, and gripped tight the hilt of Suihua — when suddenly someone pried open his palm and pressed something cold into it. He looked down and said in astonishment, ‘Uncle?’

Jiang Cheng, leaning on Sandu now empty of Spiritual Power, pushed himself to his feet, his form swaying a little, and said, ‘You just try losing Zidian — see what happens!’

Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi and the others leveled their swords and pressed forward, calling, ‘Ghost General! We've come to help you!’

Sect Leader Ouyang could neither hold his son back nor get to his feet, and bellowed, ‘Zizhen, come back!’

Even as he swung his sword with all his might, Ouyang Zizhen turned his head and said, ‘Don't be afraid, Father! I'll protect you!’

Who could have known that this one turn of the head would let a withered claw reach for his throat; Sect Leader Ouyang's liver and gall split with terror, and he shrieked, ‘Zizhen!!!’

In that hair's-breadth instant, a sword's edge sheared the withered claw away. Lan Qiren seized Ouyang Zizhen, threw him back into the press of bodies, and himself led a band of Gusu Lan Clan sword-cultivators forward into the fray. He had rested a long while and his strength had returned well; his swordwork was fierce and keen, and not a few were struck dumb at the sight. Lan Sizhui's sword moved like the wind when suddenly, behind him, came a ring of metal on stone — someone had turned aside a blow at his back. Lan Sizhui said in surprise, ‘Young Master Jin, how is it you've come too?’

As it happened, Jin Ling, seeing just now that all the others his age had charged forward, could hold back no longer. The moment Jiang Cheng wasn't watching, he stuffed the Zidian silver ring back into his hand, darted out of the crowd, and rushed to the most dangerous stretch at the cave mouth. Jiang Cheng made to give chase, managing a few sword-strokes through his stumbling, only to feel Sandu in his hand as though it weighed a thousand catties. A pair of female corpses lunged at him from left and right; Jiang Cheng cursed and raised his sword to fight again, but another pair of hands tore the two corpses to shreds, and a voice said, ‘Sect Leader Jiang—’

At the sound of that voice Jiang Cheng flew into a rage, kicked Wen Ning off, and cursed, ‘Get the fuck away from me!’ Then he roared, ‘Jin Ling!!!’

Lan Jingyi gave a shudder and said, ‘You'd better go back. Your uncle's about to eat someone alive.’

Jin Ling ignored the roar from Jiang Cheng's side, more terrifying than any of these Fierce Corpses, and said, ‘You go back yourself!’

Held by his father for barely a moment, Ouyang Zizhen charged up again with his sword raised and said, ‘Wah, this is the first time I've ever known Master Lan Qiren could use a sword — and use it this well!’

Lan Jingyi said loudly, ‘Of course he can. Who do you think gave Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun their first lessons in the sword before they turned sixteen!’

Sect Leader Ouyang, gritting his teeth and swinging his sword, roared at the others in the Demon-Subduing Cave who still stood stupefied, ‘What are you waiting for! Not to fight is a dead end — even these youngsters are all in it, so what are you still sitting there for!’

Stirred by this band of youths fighting for all they were worth, more and more drew their swords, throwing the little Spiritual Power and strength they had left into the battle. Little by little the corpse-horde packed at the cave mouth, once water-tight, was beaten back into a ragged line, and after about an hour into stragglers of twos and threes. The tide had truly begun to turn.

When Lan Wangji cleaved the last Fierce Corpse to lunge at him in two with a single stroke, the Demon-Subduing Cave was already piled mountain-high with the dead, the blood running like a river.

Every man was crusted from head to foot with shells of black gore, his chest brimming with the thick, choking reek of blood. After so bitter a fight, many had collapsed where they stood, unable even to crawl, no different from the corpses themselves; only a few clan heads and those youths still full of vigor could barely stand, propped on their swords.

Lan Jingyi stood with his eyes fixed and glazed, his face gone pale. 'I… I've never killed so many Walking Corpse before… on my own, I've cut down at least thirty, no, more than forty…'

Ouyang Zizhen said, ‘Me… too…’

And with that, the several youths, as if by some prior agreement, toppled to the ground with a thud, and wanted never to rise again.

Jiang Cheng forced himself across to Jin Ling and seized hold of him: ‘Are you hurt!’

Even Jin Ling's heavy panting carried a taste of rust as he said, ‘No, I—’

Jiang Cheng knocked him to the ground with a slap at once, cursing, ‘No? If you're not hurt, then take a little hurt and learn a lesson! You little brat, you treat my words as wind past your ear, do you!’

But once that slap was dealt, he could no longer keep standing himself, and sat down heavily, drawing breath while letting his gaze drift to the two who stood nearest the outer edge of the Demon-Subduing Cave.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were both a ruin from head to foot. Wei Wuxian, being in black, still looked passable; but Lan Wangji's white robes had been dyed black-red in shades light and dark, ghastly to the extreme, and on his whole body only that forehead ribbon of such uncommon meaning remained more or less clean. Bichen, held in his hand, still steadily kept its flow of Spiritual Power.

It was the first time any of them had seen Hanguang-Jun in such disarray, but in that moment none had attention to spare. Someone said, ‘Is it… over for us…?’

At the sound of that voice, the crowd thought: Nie Huaisang, of all people, had come through a battle like this alive, and could still speak with breath so full — a wonder indeed. No one had the strength to answer him. Nie Huaisang was almost weeping for joy: ‘Thank heaven and earth, this lot of Walking Corpses is finally all killed! Through a great calamity, out with our lives — truly the ancestors are watching over us!’

Caught up in this one man's mood, several youths began to cheer too, and one after another more and more joined in. Amid the cheering, someone on the Gusu Lan Clan side gave a low, startled cry: ‘Master!’

Lan Qiren's voice came at once: ‘No need to hold me up!’

Lan Wangji looked over and saw Lan Qiren cough out several more mouthfuls of fresh blood, wave a hand, fold his legs to sit on the ground, and begin to regulate his breath.

He swiftly drew near, took Lan Qiren's pulse a moment, and was about to channel in Spiritual Power when Lan Qiren spoke again: ‘No need. My Spiritual Power has not yet returned; this would be no more than a clay ox sinking into the sea — labor spent for nothing.’

Lan Wangji withdrew his hand and rose. Several guest cultivators asked, out of long habit, ‘Hanguang-Jun, what should we do?’

Only after the words were out did they feel how unfitting they were. But Lan Qiren sat with his eyes shut, nursing his spirit, seeming to take no notice. Lan Wangji said, ‘Rest a moment, then survey the dead and wounded. Treat the injured — let there be no delay.’

He had always held great sway within the Gusu Lan Clan, and several disciples, as though they had swallowed a dose of steadying medicine, answered as one, ‘Yes!’ — their very breathing the steadier for it. Yet before they could move, Wei Wuxian suddenly said, ‘Quiet.’

His face was grave, and the crowd hushed at once. The few who had been cheering and rallying quieted one after another, gazing at him uneasily. In the whole Demon-Subduing Cave, but for the faint sound of breath, there was not a stir.

Against this silence, another sound grew clearer and clearer.

It came from beyond the Demon-Subduing Cave — the sound of footsteps crushing dry twigs and fallen leaves.

And not the footsteps of a single person, but dense, boundless, unending footsteps.

At this the people in the Demon-Subduing Cave dared not so much as breathe heavily, and countless terrified eyes turned to the cave mouth. In the black forest something was slowly swaying and writhing, a gray, dark, dense mass too murky to make out clearly; but with the dragging footsteps these swaying things grew sharper and sharper, until even their ghastly white cheeks, their withered thin hands, and their fangs of mottled red and yellow lay bare to the eye.

A fresh wave of corpses.

And more — more than the last!

The people of the Demon-Subduing Cave had seemed, a moment before, to glimpse a single thread of life; but in the very next instant a vast despair swept across the whole cave, and its shadow shrouded them all. Even in the hearts of youths like Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui this scalp-prickling despair closed in completely, their limbs going stiff. Some, unable to bear such despair on the heels of hope, fainted outright; others wept with breath thin as a thread; but not one had the strength left to take up a sword, climb to his feet, and fight again.

Even if Wen Ning blocked the cave mouth once more, with him alone, how long could it be held?

Suddenly Wei Wuxian said, ‘Hanguang-Jun!’

Lan Wangji turned his head to look at him. Wei Wuxian drew a breath and said, ‘There's something I want to do.’

The others, too, were drawn by his words to look. Wei Wuxian said, ‘Will you stay with me?’

Lan Wangji gazed at him without wavering and said, each word clear, firm as a nail driven into iron, ‘I will.’

Wei Wuxian broke into a smile and stripped off his black robe.

Beneath the black was a layer of white, already dyed half red, yet this did nothing to hinder him as he lifted his blood-smeared palm and, head bent, drew several lines across the cloth.

As the lines grew clearer, the eyes of those watching grew more and more disbelieving, as though they looked on some monster. Fang Mengchen stood straight up, his whole face aghast, and said, ‘What are you doing?’

Wei Wuxian paid him no mind and went on drawing, head bent.

By the time he stopped, what hung upon his body was no longer a white robe but, plain as day, a banner.

A banner to draw every fierce, evil, monstrous, and baleful thing wholly onto one man — the Spirit-Attraction Flag!

Wei Wuxian moved to stand beside Lan Wangji and beckoned to Lan Sizhui and the rest. The juniors gathered round; Jin Ling too made to climb up, but Jiang Cheng pressed him back down.

Wei Wuxian said, ‘In a moment, when the second horde breaks in, I'll lure them toward the Blood Pool, and Hanguang-Jun will see to the killing. Here—’ he patted his chest, ‘—there's a target. They won't bother with you. Don't get caught up in the fight; just break for the way out.’

For once Lan Sizhui raised his voice: ‘This won't do! This absolutely won't do!’

Sect Leader Ouyang had already given up holding his son back. Ouyang Zizhen said, ‘Senior Wei, we want to kill Walking Corpses too! I can still kill a hundred more!’

But Lan Jingyi had already started pulling off his clothes: ‘I want a flag drawn on me too!’

Caught between laughter and tears, Wei Wuxian hurried to stop him: ‘Enough, all of you, no more nonsense. One target is plenty. Hanguang-Jun alone working with me to cut down the Walking Corpses is enough — the rest of you, make less trouble.’

In the Demon-Subduing Cave, no one knew how to face such a thing.

There was no one who did not know what the Spirit-Attraction Flag was for. But even if there were now one man willing to use his own flesh and blood to draw the horde about to break through the array, to buy the safety of all the rest — that man should, above all others, never be Wei Wuxian!

Lan Sizhui and the others would have spoken still, but Lan Wangji said, ‘Do as he says.’

Then he turned to Lan Qiren and bowed deeply. Lan Qiren opened his eyes and said nothing. Lan Sizhui said, ‘Master Lan! Hanguang-Jun, he… he…’

Lan Qiren said mildly, ‘It is only as it should be.’

Lan Sizhui would have spoken on: ‘But—!!’ Wei Wuxian barked, ‘Wen Ning! Open the way!’

The black lines stretching up from Wen Ning's neck shot out in an instant, all but overrunning the better half of his cheeks; he gave over intercepting the horde, loosed a long howl from his throat, and through the layered, packed mass of corpses tore open a bloody path by sheer force.

And the second horde, its obstacle gone, at last set foot into the Demon-Subduing Cave as well.

Wei Wuxian gave Lan Sizhui a hard shove and said, ‘Go!’