Chapter 42: The Bitter Illusions

Chapter 42: The Bitter Illusions

"I Won" Xue Lan’s voice echoed through the palace, reaching the Mistress. Confusion washed over her face. The strings on her fingers loosened for a moment.

"What...?" Her eyes scanned the surroundings. Xue Lan snapped his fingers. The moths vanished from her sight.

"You will find that out soon." Xue Lan prepared himself.

Zhuo didn’t understand what he meant. He simply stood there and waited, blade ready, facing Jang Wu, while Xue Lan faced the Mistress.

The Mistress’s gaze swept over the walls. She saw nothing. The moths were concealed by Xue Lan. He tilted his head at her, letting out a mocking chuckle. He held his dagger high, pointing at the Mistress. "You are not going to see the sun."

"Strong words, Dreamer." The Mistress tightened the strings again. Jang Wu stood seven paces away from Zhuo, haft of his scythe resting on his shoulder.

Zhuo’s eyes flared up with a blue glow. The motion streaks surrounded the palace, connecting to everything: the puppets, walls, and even their masters themselves. From behind him, a voice called out. "Close your eyes." Zhuo looked back in surprise. Xue Lan’s voice was absolute, an order, not even a suggestion.

Zhuo shut his eyes, his brow furrowed, puzzled.

Xue Lan spoke again. "You can’t use those efficiently. You’d only pay a reckless cost." As he said that, Zhuo narrowed his eyes, deepening his confusion.

"I don’t get it."

"I’m not here to teach. Figure it out yourself rather than using it foolishly." Xue Lan shifted his focus to the Mistress who looked at him with a dull expression.

Zhuo looked at Jang Wu, who vanished from his sight. Then Jang Wu’s scythe cut through the air. Zhuo’s eyes snapped open. The blade was already there. On the impact of both weapons, Zhuo’s blade slid down the curve of Jang Wu’s scythe, bringing them close enough to feel the cold intensity.

Zhuo’s feet moved sideways as the scythe brought his blade down.

Xue Lan raised his hand. "Sleepless Dreams." The very next moment after he muttered these words, strings connecting the puppets began to snap one by one. The sharp pop rang through the palace as if the strings were rusted metal.

Xue Lan and Mistress were now standing in a field of flowers. A vast palace stood beside them.

"Tch," the Mistress hissed. "The bitter illusions..."

Xue Lan gave a faint smile before he circled the flower field. "How fortunate for you to die in my Authority’s domain. Welcome to the bitter illusions, to remind you... Nothing here is fake."

Behind her, someone put a hand on her shoulder. She jolted her head back. Xue Lan was there. She looked back to where he stood before...there too. The Mistress then held the scythe. The sickening, melodic scent of flowers, crawling into her nerves.

"Now, consider yourself lucky." With that, he lunged forward. The wound in his back throbbed, but Xue Lan didn’t slow.

Her scythe slashed down; the dagger blocked it. Under the sun the spark of their clash faded. The ground beneath them bloomed flowers that bled. A string snapped between them.

A few meters away, a silhouette of an elderly man stood facing the palace. Down there she saw two kids walking toward the palace, leaving the man behind. The shadow slowly faded in the air. Then Xue Lan disappeared from her sight.

She turned, searching for him.

Someone pulled her dress as she looked there. She saw a child with eyes the same purple as hers. Her hands trembled, and she stepped back. "I know it’s not real," she said, but the grip on her scythe loosened.

"It is more than you think." Xue Lan’s voice came from beneath her. Butterflies and moths swirled around the field. "Those kids you sacrificed for a life. How much of that was your own will? Xian Pu."

When he said that, The Mistress laughed at him. "Bluffing,"

"You have gone insane." Xue Lan said.

Slash

A petal touched her wound before the blade did. Then Xue Lan was there. His dagger found her side. She gritted her teeth and swung her scythe. The petals scattered. He had dissolved into them again, but his voice remained:

"You have already died the day you got corrupted by the darkness of your authority." The flower petals flew through the air. A petal landed on the Mistress’s cheek and slashed it.

"Your leader is a demigod, but the higher ordinal made him insane. You killed your son even if ’He’ was the one controlling your flesh."

The words hung in the air. Slowly the petals descended, landing on the ground filled with the screams of every sacrifice for the Cursed Womb. The flower’s colour faded into crimson. The child, who had been there before, walked away from her toward the end of the field.

Xian Pu’s breath caught in her throat. She had no words, then... The scythe moved, her hands waving frantically without her will. She clenched her own wrist in an attempt to stop it.

She saw ’Him,’ a vision in the main palace of the Fleshweaver cult.

The Curator walked. He lifted his hand up and placed it on the wall. The moment he took the next step, it turned crimson red. He clawed the wall; tearing the space itself. It distorted as if pulled by his hand. His hands cut through the wall like flesh. Blood dripped on the ground.

Swoosh

The Mistress’s chest opened up like the wall. The blood fell on the ground. She covered her mouth, coughing up blood. She knelt down; she couldn’t afford to stand longer.

Snap.

Strings snapped one by one, connecting her body.

Xue Lan appeared right in front of her and said, "Yet those who misunderstand their hearts are the ones who fell deeper into the depths of choices." He clenched his dagger and walked toward her. "And you have already drowned yourself."

The Mistress pulled away her hand from her face. The scythe went still, and she looked ahead, seeing the Dreamer walking toward her. She sighed, then a small smile crossed her lips. "I have killed lives– even if without my will, I must admit it, Dreamer. But how are you different from me?" She paused and examined his blank expression. He didn’t answer, and then Xian Pu said, "I am a puppeteer... Who am I without my silly art?"

A bittersweet chuckle left her throat, soft and dry, that ended too quickly, and then she pressed her lips together like the taste offended her. "I suppose I can’t escape then... Kill me."

Xue Lan stopped near her. He stared down at her, then he questioned.

"What does death mean to you?"

Xian Pu lifted her head. In her last moment, she saw a dreamer who was searching for a meaning in the worlds that had nothing to return.

"A mercy, a punishment... or even the kindest conclusion in these worlds." She said the strings on her fingers dropped on the ground and then were swept away by the air.

Kindest conclusion, huh?... Xue Lan closed his eyes. Then he took a few steps forward, his body scattered in moths. They went through her neck. Her head then fell on the ground with a soft thud. Slowly, the place disappeared as he stood in her palace again.

The moment Xian Pu’s head touched the ground. The whole palace trembled. All the strings had been shredded already. Puppets collapsed where they stood, their flesh falling apart like cloth.

Zhuo pushed Jang Wu’s scythe. Jang Wu stumbled, his scythe wavered, and for a single heartbeat the strings connected to the tips of his fingers went slack.

Zhuo drove forward, blade aimed at Jang Wu’s chest. Jang Wu’s scythe came up just in time. He slid back, his heels digging into the ground. Zhuo pushed forward; his boots clicked.

Swiss

Zhuo drove the blade through his chest horizontally. Jang Wu’s voice turned venomous. "Brat!" He clawed his hand in the air. The strings caught Zhuo’s wrist tightly. Jang Wu held Zhuo’s other hand, holding the blade in his chest, and then Jang Wu raised the scythe. Zhuo struggled, pulling his hand back. He looked at Jang Wu’s eyes filled with bloodlust.

Before the scythe could hit Zhuo, another sword came through Jang Wu’s head, piercing him. Blood fell from his head; behind Jang Wu stood Jian Yue.

Jang Wu’s hand let go of Zhuo as the body fell on the ground. Zhuo tripped back, falling on his butt. He gasped for breath, thinking, What if Jian Yue had not come to save me? Then he looked at Jian Yue, who freed the blade from Jang Wu’s head.

Jian Yue’s gaze lay on Zhuo, and then he heaved a sigh of relief. He looked at Xue Lan, standing twelve paces away, looking at the beheaded body of the ’Mistress of Misfortune.’ Xue Lan turned and walked away without any other words.

Jian Yue didn’t say anything; he looked at Zhuo and then asked. "Did you find the page?" Zhuo shook his head, calming his breaths.

"No, but it’s somewhere in this palace–"

The pillars broke, shattering down one by one. Jian Yue grabbed Zhuo and ran toward the exit. "We will think about the page later!"

Xue Lan slightly tilted his head as he walked deeper. Debris falling from the ceiling. Dust emerged, thick enough to choke. They ran through the corridors and then reached the servant’s doorway and escaped. Zhuo looked back; Xue Lan had walked inside the palace.

They stood outside the palace. They waited for him.

An hour passed.

Meanwhile, Xue Lan, hiding or waiting in the shadows of a pillar in the lair. At the entrance of the door where the Cursed Womb was. Then three men entered the place. Their robes hiding their faces.

"As expected..." Xue Lan muttered under his breath.

They shouted at each other, confronting about the Mistress’s death. One of them said, "Bastard, I told you we should help and kill them all!"

Another one said, "Don’t yell like we were not the ones who decided to take a walk in the exit!"

"Be quiet." One man shut them and then said, "The Cursed Womb will be born in two days, including the time we exit the Misfortune." He looked at the other two men.

"You both are useless. Jang Wu had died together with the Mistress. Our two fellow royal guards."

"Just take the Cursed Womb out first."

As they were talking, Xue Lan noticed a page in one of their hands. He squinted his eyes, and the man put the page down nearby. Xue Lan scoffed, and his moth flew toward it before taking away the page. He snapped his finger, and another page appeared in that table.

Xue Lan walked away.

"To the main palace of the Fleshweaver Cult, huh? Luck was on my side today. In the future it might not be." He took a brief glance back at the woman who screamed in agony as her body was getting moved from the tree.

"A shell." He moved back.

In a while, he exited the palace only to find Zhuo and Jian Yue outside. Xue Lan threw the page at Zhuo, then walked away, ignoring their presence.

Zhuo caught the page.

Arbiter of the Motion. Ordinal 6.

"...Thank you for. Helping me again."

Jian Yue cast a glance back. The palace had completely broken, leaving no sign of life. He then took a few steps forward and started walking. Zhuo quietly followed him, holding the page and the wound in his hand. Both of their faces were covered in dust. Zhuo had a few cuts on his cheek and neck. He winced when he touched them.

They won the first battle of the war.