Footsteps tapped against the clay tiles, and a deep voice interrupted the spat.
"Shizun." Tian Han's words were ragged, his face dripping with sweat. "Shizun, that's enough. This has nothing to do with him."
The Imposter laughed dryly. "Since when? You involved him, not me."
Tian Han's expression shifted into something much darker, more threatening. Fu Ran had once thought many expressions didn't suit him, perhaps because he was so used to seeing him as a nightmare. But now, it was strange…
Because it had changed.
Happiness and embarrassment, any positive emotion really, had started to look natural on Tian Han's fine features. But the ones that didn't? The Tyrant Emperor's hateful and dangerous expressions now looked wrong.
So, seeing Tian Han truly angry shook him to his core.
"I don't think I've ever seen you look at me like that," The Imposter said bluntly. "Is this Shizun no different from the trash you kick aside now?"
"Even if…" Tian Han began, his gaze shifting away for only a moment. "Even if it's you. I can't let you get in my way." The tip of his blade lifted in a silent threat.
Unexpectedly, Fu Ran was dropped, nearly tossed, a few feet to the side. He barely caught himself on the shingles, before a battle had begun.
With a sharp crack, The Imposter launched off the tiles. Dust and shattered clay burst into the air. Shi Wei Ji met steel with a ringing clash, sparks flying as both combatants blurred into motion.
An idea sparked in Fu Ran's mind when he looked at the white sword.
The Imposter's swordsmanship appeared far superior to Tian Han's, but the latter possessed strength beyond that of an average cultivator. His power was clear in the way Shi Wei Ji faltered and reverberated under the sheer force of Tian Han's strikes.
Every hit shook the battle, and he saw it weighing on his mirror too. Whenever Tian Han struck, The Imposter's arms flew back from the sheer intensity.
There.
Fu Ran's eyes sharpened, and he immediately raised a hand. "Shi Wei Ji, come!" he yelled. Just this once, then you can go back to being a troublesome spiritual weapon!
The Imposter faltered as the white blade recoiled from the command. His breath audibly caught, a gasp sneaking from between clenched teeth. At this very moment, his rage could have slashed Fu Ran in two.
Shi Wei Ji flew through the air, right into his hands. He was beginning to think he would never hold his most treasured companion again, and yet it was finally back where it belonged.
With that The Imposter was restrained by the edge of Tian Han's sword. He was clearly dismayed by the loss of his weapon, yet made no sudden moves to chase after it.
"Is that it then? Stealing my weapon, and then what?" he asked.
Fu Ran glared back. "We're going to stop this. The Faceless City has no obligation to fall." Lifting the tip of his blade, he threatened.
There was one thing causing a constant influx of demonic qi to channel the growing number of corrupted corpses. That lantern. It was stuck into the roof tiles only an arms width away from Tian Han, and every few seconds it sent out a pulse of energy. The method to destroy a spirit vessel was quite simple: break it right in two.
A hand drawn mark was the source of the curse, and when that was shattered the spell would wither. That would not undo the amount of pollution it had caused already, but it would put a stop to new creations.
Fu Ran hovered the sword's tip over the lantern spirit vessel, gathering all eyes on the temple focused on one spot. A spark—a white glowing sigil appeared beneath Shi Wei Ji and he stabbed it through.
Leaving only the iron rod standing, the lantern fell into two solid pieces, and rattled against the clay roof tiles.
Suddenly, he could breathe again. With the source of the malice gone, the demonic tension began to fade into tiny puffs of qi.
"It's done…" Fu Ran sighed.
"Congrats," The Imposter whispered.
No, perhaps things weren't quite 'done' yet.
Fu Ran's glare changed targets now. The Imposter's expression was one of total defeat and disappointment. Yet beneath his furrowed brows, a flicker of worry. Perhaps only Fu Ran could notice the way his own face shifted with such intricate details.
Shi Wei Ji moved, now pressed against the mirror's white robes.
This man was dangerous. He had injured his disciples, played trickery over Tian Han, and even manipulated unrelated children to get information. For some reason, however, Fu Ran's fingers hesitated.
The Imposter smiled. "Haven't learned to kill again?"
The words made it feel like the situation had reversed. Almost like Shi Wei Ji was held to his own throat instead. A small glance at Tian Han didn't help; his eyes were distant and unwatching. And looking back at The Imposter only fueled Fu Ran's anger.
He hesitated so long that even if he did act, it would feel like his hand was forced. It should be easier to kill a man with my own face.
What's there to think about?
The idea of his own death was such a sad and pathetic one, that even by his own hands, it should be no different.
Fu Ran inhaled deeply. He ignored the tightness in his jaw, and withdrew the blade long enough to swing again. Perhaps he hadn't noticed a major problem with the scene due to his spiraling thoughts. But Shi Wei Ji hummed strangely.
When Fu Ran swung, his spiritual weapon jerked, almost fighting his grip. Eyes widened at the sudden resistance, Fu Ran tried to fight Shi Wei Ji back under control. This wasn't his doing.
The blade was moving on its own.
A third voice called out. It didn't belong to him, nor the man who shared his face. "Pierce." The voice belonged to someone else.
Shi Wei Ji pulled to the right, and the slice was redirected…
…towards his own companion.
Like there was a sudden explosion in his chest, Fu Ran's heart froze mid-beat. His mouth hung open barely registering that his precious white blade had run straight through Tian Han's chest. Not The Imposter? But Tian Han?
Even The Imposter's expression mirrored the shock.
"Shi… zun?" Tian Han asked, his golden eyes wide in disbelief.
No, no, no, no. Fu Ran shook his head, "Tian Han, that's not—I didn't!"
The world narrowed to the crimson seeping between his fingers, to Tian Han's golden eyes darkening with pain. Nothing he said would undo this attack.
That third uncounted voice spoke again. "I asked you to go home. That was all."
Fu Ran's attention snapped over the clearing away from the temple.
The golden-masked man stood on a rusted flying sword. His hand was held flat, yet he moved his fingers like he was beckoning Shi Wei Ji towards him. The tip pressed even deeper into Tian Han's chest.
"No!" Fu Ran rasped. He dug his feet into the ceramic tiles, and tried to keep the blade from slipping.
Tian Han winced and bit back bloody coughs. His fingers slackened against his own blade allowing The Imposter to quickly make some distance. "Shizun, just let it go—I'll live," he gasped.
Fu Ran looked at him in disbelief. Was he trying to comfort him?
Tian Han chuckled darkly. "This hurts a lot more…" He weakly gestured to the blade's inching movements.
Fu Ran grit his teeth. Why didn't you just hit me aside?!
It would have been easy for a man with his skill to slip his way out of a direct attack, and yet he took it straight on? Even now he forced his lips into a smile, completely contradicting the furrowing of his brows.
Crimson slickened Fu Ran's grip, his finger's twitched to keep hold on Shi Wei Ji. He didn't want to let go. The entire blade would go straight through—handle and all!
"Tian Han I… Shi Wei Ji, stop!" Fu Ran yelled, trying one last time to coerce his blade, but it continued to pull against him… and slipped from his fingertips.
With a grotesque, wet sound, Shi Wei Ji forced through skin, muscle, and bone. Tian Han jerked with a strained whine before his body gave in against his efforts. He knocked against Fu Ran's shoulder like a heavy dead weight.
Immediately, his body was reminiscent of a corpse, and the force sent them both staggering messily against the roof.
For a moment Fu Ran blanked. His fingers dug into soaked fabric on instinct, trembling against the raw, open wound beneath. "Tian Han…? I… I…" Fu Ran choked. How could he have let this happen?
Fu Ran had hopes, or wishes, that Tian Han would respond with some simple words of comfort like he had before. Something lighthearted. Something unbearably normal. Anything but the silence that stretched between them. Even just a simple repeat of what he said earlier, "I won't die," would have sufficed!
But he was unconscious before he collapsed.
The crimson streams from his mouth and chest soaked every inch of white it touched. In mere seconds Fu Ran was just as blood stained as Tian Han.
Tian Han? He could only repeat the name in his mind. He had never before seen Tian Han wounded in the slightest, let alone from his own blade. With great effort, he tried to ignore the passing conversation between the other two men.
He had spent years mentally preparing to fight against the Tyrant Emperor. But not like this. Never like this. His perception of Tian Han has shifted into something he didn't want to vanish…
Fu Ran shook the panic from his eyes, and moved Tian Han onto his side. He was no healer, but he had been the recipient of so many private doctor's visits. He knew the basics.
"Please don't die." Fu Ran rasped, pouring in any amount of spiritual energy his body had to give.
Looking at the Tyrant Emperor's pale complexion was something unimaginable. The way his eyes closed and how his lips rested in a peaceful position; it was unmistakably the expression of death. Sleep and death were far too different to mistake.
"He's not dead," The Imposter groaned.
Fu Ran snapped back. The Imposter and the golden-masked man watched his crumpled, distraught state with pity. "Why the hell do you show up now!?" he yelled.
"Despite him defying orders, he can't die just yet." The golden masked man had the sword in a vice grip; barely any white of Shi Wei Ji peeked out from beneath the blood.
The Imposter began, "If you would have just taken my offer the Tyrant Emperor might not have—"
But Fu Ran interrupted, "You don't get to call him that!"
'Tyrant Emperor' sounded so disgusting now that he heard it aloud. He instinctively clenched his fist into Tian Han's robes.
"Fu Ran," the golden-masked man's voice dipped low and he chastised. "Are you above your responsibilities?"
It was The Imposter that stiffened at this. "No, I…"
"I told you to leave it be until we were ready. He has no part in this," he spoke in disappointment, his words nearly sounding cold. It echoes what he said during their last meeting.
"The remainder of our plan will have nothing to do with you." Back then he spoke without signs of deception, so Fu Ran thought nothing of it. Judging by his current restrained anger, that seemed to be true. He chastised that fake 'Fu Ran' in a manner that was terrifyingly familiar.
Fu Ran's lips drew into a line to stop the childish quivering. Why have you changed…?
Every breath that man took, urged Fu Ran to watch him like a hawk. The gems dangling from his amber mask and headdress shifted as he looked to the lantern with dismay.
The Imposter gasped and made an excuse, "That had nothing to do with me!"
"You've failed. Those troublesome brothers know my voice too well, and because of your involvement with that child, they are coming. We'll settle this matter later, understood?"
The Imposter looked like he had been slapped across the face. More than even annoyance, he looked guilty, like he had disappointed someone close to him. "Yes," he said, resigned.
"And you," the golden masked man snapped to Fu Ran. "Stay. Out of it."
Fu Ran stiffened. It was like being reprimanded as a child all over again. He didn't have the guts to retort and ended up swallowing his words to focus on Tian Han instead. He wanted Shi Wei Ji back—of course he did… but Tian Han was barely breathing.