The chamber walls pulsed with demonic energy, as if the blackened stones themselves still remembered the fall of the Dragon Clan under the Demon God's command, drenched crimson with the blood of brave men who fought to their last breaths, and the cries of women and children that could be heard far and wide in the ruins of Nivarra still.
Shadows deepened around the flickering lanterns as Rongjie stood at the centre of the chamber, his eyes locked on the far corner where his sister lay, sleeping soundly, and free from the chains that had scarred her body. Thousands of thoughts fought to get his attention, each more macabre than the one before.
Every second wasted brought them closer to their ruin and put his sister's life in grave danger, not to mention his choices slipped away faster than sand through his fingers, too. Even so, the thought that now crossed his mind was so chilling it crippled him completely, and it took Mo Ren's entrance to tear him from his bleak mind and force him to accept the bitter truth.
"What are you thinking?"
Rongjie exhaled, his chest rising and falling with the weight of a decision already made, one that there was no turning back from. "I'll go see him," he said, his voice strained. "Beg him to reconsider…"
"Beg? The Demon God—"
"Not him. Kaolin."
"Master Kaolin?" he repeated. "Rongjie, I know how desperate you are – as am I – but what if he tries to kill you even before you have the chance to explain?" He then lowered his voice, concern laced in every word he spoke. "Let me do it, then. Let me speak to him on your behalf."
"No, it has to be me. Even if the chance he'll hear me out is slim, I have to take my shot. If nothing else… I need to face him myself." He met Mo Ren's eyes without hesitation, the tone of his voice giving away just how tired he was from hiding from the shadows of his past. "I can't keep running forever, can I? One way or the other, we're bound to meet."
Mo Ren stared at him for a long while, trying to come up with excuses and make Rongjie reconsider his decision. But there was no wavering in Rongjie's eyes, no hesitation. Eventually, he caved in with a resonating sigh, one that betrayed the depth of his worries.
"When are you thinking of leaving?"
"The sooner the better, before it's too late…"
His eyes then drifted to his sister lying motionless, the only sign of her being alive her strained and laboured breath, the subtle rise and fall of the sheets wrapped tightly around her. She had been subjected to a lot of agony and pain, gained and lost both her place within their clan as well as that of Yueluo Gu, all because it was the will of the ancient Gods and Goddesses…
He should have done more to shield her, to ensure the Demon God remained locked away forever, so she could live freely. But now, she had no choice but to follow the path carved by destiny.
Mo Ren placed a hand on his shoulder as he noticed the subtle shift in Rongjie's otherwise expressionless eyes. "Don't worry, she's safe here. I won't let anyone in until you come back safely."
Rongjie's lips parted, whispering—"Safely,"—as a thought crossed his mind that instance, one that caused a wry smile to play on his lips, like a promise that never fully formed, but was already slipping away. He then put on his mask and turned around, and the chamber door swung open.
From the doorway, Mo Ren watched until Rongjie became no more than a speck in the vast sky, swallowed by the dark horizon beyond Nivarra's cursed borders, his face drained of colour and his eyes etched with untold worries. Still, he remained put and did not follow him.
Rongjie was right. Even if he spoke to Master Kaolin on his behalf, it wouldn't be as effective, only he feared that Rongjie might do something reckless to save his sister, and that thought scared him.
***
The chilling wind howled through the barren skies of Shenzhou as Rongjie tore through the clouds, surging towards the one place he had vowed never to set foot in again. Yet old promises crumble easily beneath the weight of new regrets, and his heart pulled him towards the place he called home, where the forgotten past still lingered, haunting both him and Kaolin to this day.
Yet it took him by surprise, as Koryuthan slowly came into view, and his sworn brother stood at a familiar cliff, overlooking the ruins of their shared past and a palace in ruins, past the jagged spires of broken walls, past the withered trees that still stood tall along the old courtyards.
Despite the fifteen thousand years that had passed and merged with the unforgiven time, neither of them had truly changed, and that realisation caused a bittersweet smile to form on his lips, only to fade away just as quickly as it appeared. How come, he thought the moment he descended and landed on the cliff, that we both knew where to find one another even after all these years?
"Who's there?"
"It's me," he replied, stepping closer. "Rongjie."
Kaolin turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder but not fully turning to face him, as if he expected his arrival even before he made his presence known. His voice was flat, almost detached to a certain degree, as if he knew exactly what Rongjie had come for even before he had a chance to speak.
"You've finally decided to stop running and die?"
Rongjie removed his mask before replying, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and say the words lingering on the tip of his tongue.
"If doing so will save my sister, then I'm willing to die."
Kaolin turned around this time, raising a brow. "Your sister?"
"Xiyan, she," he hesitated, "she's my sister."
"And you want me to save her, at the cost of your own life?" he mused. "What makes you think I'd do such a thing just because you dared to show up before me after all these years, after all this time running?" He paused, eyes narrowing, before adding with a raised voice, no longer able to contain his conflicted emotions. "You're fooling yourself if you believe our past still holds any meaning, the one you so easily broke to protect your sister, sacrificing not only Koryuthan, your home, but also General Orun, who did you nothing but good, even when you fled from those demons you now command over!"
"Don't pretend like you don't know who she is, like I ever had another choice!" he snapped back, before lowering his voice. "The choice was never mine to make, Kaolin… It was the only one I could follow, and you know that."
A bitter smirk played on Kaolin's lips as he briefly looked away, taking in those words he had waited all these years to hear, yet felt nothing but emptiness now that he finally knew the reason behind Rongjie's betrayal.
"Even if I were to accept that was the case, that you had no other choice, I'm afraid it's too late. I've already made up my mind, so stop wasting your breath—"
Rongjie dropped to his knees, his voice trembling, the desperation in his eyes hard to miss even in the vast darkness around them. "Kaolin… I beg you. I beg you… please! Won't you save her, just this once?"—and when he Kaolin refused to meet his pleading eyes, the words spilt from his lips unfiltered—"You're just going to let her die to chase the past!? Yue'er's gone! She has been gone for over fifteen thousand years! It's time you moved on!"
Kaolin lunged forwards and grabbed Rongjie up by the collar, his chest rising and falling in a violent beat, every muscle in his body tense and shaking, holding himself back requiring more than just willpower. Then, as he regained control of his emotions, panting faster by the second, he became aware of his grip and let go, muttering. "Before I do something I won't regret… enough."
"Kaolin, listen to me—"
"I told you not to waste your breath," he cut in, the tone of his voice cold and detached from the present, as though his mind were elsewhere. "Even if you were to die by my hands here and now, it still wouldn't change a thing."
Kaolin brushed past him, down the jagged cliff, just as Rongjie once again crumpled to his knees, slumped forwards and in shock at the realisation that he had failed to change Kaolin's mind.
"Then kill me, Kaolin, than let me mourn her passing." Kaolin broke off halfway down the cliff as he heard those words." Just… kill me…"
"I will," he said coldly, tears threatening to spill, every muscle clenched tight to keep his emotions in check, "just not tonight. So don't do anything reckless. Keep breathing until I come for you."
His fist curled tight at his side before he set his conflicted emotions aside and descended the crumbling paths of Koryuthan's ruins, each step drawing him closer to the remains of a world he longed for every waking hour, one that had been lost forever and would never return.
The once-great palace welcomed him in an eerie silence as the memories flooded his mind without letting him catch his breath, painful to recall yet so dear to his heart at the same time. He then lifted his hand so that a surge of energy rippled through the broken throne hall, stirring the fragments of the past and blurring the line between what was real and an illusion of his mind, and suddenly, the palace was no longer in ruins but bustling and alive, just like back fifteen thousand years ago.
He stood within the memory of what once was, and for a moment, he was a young man again, smiling widely, standing alongside Rongjie and—"Yue'er…" he whispered.
She emerged from the illusion like a vivid dream, her steps light, her hair flowing like silk as she walked past him, eyes full of warmth and the innocence of youth. And then, in the illusion, she suddenly turned to him, as if she could see him standing there, saying those haunting words piercing through his chest, over and over again. "Must you go?" she asked, just like she had that day. And just like that day, Kaolin did not answer.
The memories slipped away far too soon, leaving Kaolin alone amid the shattered stones of what was left of his home, blinking back tears. His jaw was clenched, his fist curled tight from suppressed tears and emotions bottled up for far too long, like he was something less than human, like he did not deserve to grieve like other people.
Then, suddenly, he roared – a cry of anguish and rage so heart-wrenching it made the very air tremble as he slammed his fist into a pillar, shattering what remained of the illusion. Blood burst from his knuckles and smeared down the ruins as his knees gave way and he collapsed with his back against the broken pillar, trying to ease the stabbing pain in his chest and catching his breath.
He stayed there, head bowed, chest heaving. The blood from his fist dripped onto the shattered floor, his tears following not long after. And he wept, not as a cultivator who had mastered the Forbidden Arts or a hero prophesied for greatness, but as someone who had lost too much, been asked for too much, and had nothing left to give; torn between following his destiny and the memory of the person he failed to protect.