The fire came to light up the night, to warm air that was more accustomed to the chill. It lit each face that was already beaming. The war may have only lasted four days, but it was four days of non-stop fighting.
Emperor Yuansheng contacted Green Prince last night, when victory was clearly in the bag, to have wine, water and food delivered to their camp outside Nieyao for a celebration party.
Long Zaitian, fighting an honest battle without sleep during the expedition, forgot all about his ancestors, let alone his injuries, when Emperor Yuansheng applauded him. Three drinks in, he yelled, “Play the music. I’ll treat you all to a dance!” then pulled down his shirt and started rolling about on the ground.
Dugu and Sima Huai played a modified version of rock paper scissors to see who was faster while warriors commentated and cheered from the side.
Hong Jiu, despite his injuries, was still in shape to have a drinking contest with Moyan Luohou, Moyuan Changping and Abels. Moyan Changping was out in no time. Xia’er and A-Lan had to lug Hong Jiu and Abels back to their tents after the two were inebriated a while later. Moyan Luohou, on the other hand, opened another jug to continue taking his time by himself.
Tianfeng Xuanyuan smashed concrete on his chest and blades over his head as part of his performance routine. People betted on how long it’d take Lai Jingzhen to wake up.
Even though everyone was partying together, they all had a place where they belonged, a place they’d hobble back to in their drunken stupor once the songs, dances and games were over. Shen Yiren also had a group she belonged to.
Among Liu Shan Men’s members, Tang Ye and Su Xiao weren’t present, but he was. Shen Yiren frantically ran around from group to group as soon as she returned to camp, neither removing her armour nor accepting any drinks. She wanted to see him first and foremost, to tell him what transpired in Nieyao and what she saw. Likewise, she wanted to hear what he went through and if he was hurt. She wanted to share the joy of triumph with him. Search high and low, though, there was no trace of him. The only person at Mount Daluo’s tent was a Ming Suwen who still couldn’t stop gasping blood on occasion – even after a day of recovery.
Expecting Shen Yiren to come by, Ming Suwen said, “Sis… go find Feizhen.”
“Sister, your injuries…” Shen Yiren had yet to hear about Shadow Lady, but to think Ming Suwen could be hurt so bad…
“I’m okay. I carelessly used my ultimate attack, so my true qi is unsettled. I probably won’t be able to walk for another four days. I can take care of myself, though. Feizhen… Find Feizhen. Seeing as we’re okay, he should be okay, too.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know the specific location, but he’s probably passed out somewhere. That’s just typical him, never telling us anything, carrying the burden on his own and then smiling as though it was nothing. I won’t be remotely as effective as you searching the ruins in my state. Can I trust you to find him?”
Though Shen Yiren had yet to watch Ming Feizhen in action, the fact that he beat Luo Ming was a testament to his abilities. To think he’d pass out in Nieyao could only mean there was something as threatening as he was. Thinking back on Feng Xue and Luo Ming’s conditions, Shen Yiren galloped into Nieyao at full speed.
***
Ming Feizhen’s initially heavy breaths gradually softened as his breathing capacity diminished along with the strength in his legs climbing the stone steps.
Ming Feizhen never deluded himself into believing he could defeat Pangu; from the beginning, his goal was to capitalise on the lazy nature of dragons – wearing it down until it returned to a long slumber. Else, he never would’ve attempted challenging it solo. Still, the cost of death always loomed.
While he managed to skirt death, he couldn’t avoid injuries. Every breath he took felt akin to setting his lungs alight. Every step he took felt comparable to fracturing his bones more. Every time his foot touched the ground, it felt as if he was sinking into cotton. Perhaps the last time he felt as awful was when he was so sore from training his behind off as a kid that he was bed ridden. Ever since learning Yijin Jing, he only ever brimmed with energy, particularly so when he possessed a Fengpeng’s energy. No matter the degree of injury, even qi deviation, he never felt as weak.
The door to the underground palace could either be opened from the outside using force or a specific method. The only way to exit, on the other hand, was to activate a contraption. Despite his best effort, Ming Feizhen couldn’t get the contraption to budge. Instead, his legs took his base from him. He rolled back down the steps, leaving a trail of blood from the life pouring out of his head.
He was done. He had no motivation to move. While he laid there, he thought about how nice it’d be if he had the energy to laugh at how powerless he was when he usually had confidence in his strength. He wasn’t laughing at himself. He was just thinking, is this how strong I was as a kid?
Hours later, Ming Feizhen finally felt mentally rejuvenated – to an extent – but his body was still bereft of strength. Under normal circumstances, the Fengpeng’s energy would galvanize him to go on a genocide spree and drink blood for replenishment whenever he was weak. Against Pangu, howbeit, he emptied out the Fengpeng’s energy to wear out the former. As such, the Fengpeng’s ravenous energy was in no mood to supply him with energy.
After an even longer climb up to the door, Ming Feizhen decided to sit down and rest for two hours. He tried taking a big breath so that he could get to his feet, then fall forward, using his weight to force the weight open. He went back to panting on the ground, unable to get up. Nevertheless, the argent line coming through the ajar door spurred him on to crawl out. Only when he could see the moon outside did he feel he was truly alive. Leaning on the outside of the door, he could smell the aroma of wine and meat, see the flames grazing the ether and hear the clamouring from afar.
We won, huh? Pass me some of that energy, why don’t you?
Ming Feizhen lifted up the corners of his lips. Ten years ago and today, he had no place in the victory party. Even though he just protected the peace of the world for the next decades, even century and beyond, nobody would be grateful to him or sing his praise. Not even those who cared about him would know what he did because he wouldn’t let them know, nor did he need them to know.
Perhaps he already received too much, so he had to put down even more. Perhaps receiving the care of others was something foreign to him now. Perhaps both theories were true.
“… Feizhen.”
Shen Yiren, caked in filth and hair shagged, dismounted. Heaven knows how long she had been utilising Precision Scout for her eyes to be bright red. She was going to run up to Ming Feizhen, but her weak legs resulted in her pretty much falling into his arms. Fearing she might hurt him with her touch, she only dared to eye him.
No matter how many times she moved her mouth, the words wouldn’t come out. Silver droplets formed in her eyes the longer she looked at him.
What’s with the tears? Is she… upset for my sake?
“Doctor… I’ll take you to the doctor… I’ll call a doctor over.”
Shen Yiren turned to leave when Ming Feizhen grabbed her robe. She didn’t dare to tug in case she exacerbated his injuries. Worse, she feared he’d go to sleep for good.
As if he didn’t know what she was thinking and as if he didn’t know how bad his condition was, he said, “Don’t leave… Keep me company.”
Shen Yiren stayed as he requested; however, her tears wouldn’t stay as she requested. “What did you do behind my back?”
Ming Feizhen gently lifted the bottom of her rob up, then flipped it up onto her head. “… I tripped,” he said with a smile.
