The sun was dipping below the horizon, bleeding deep purples and oranges across the sky. Under the skeletal branches of an ancient, sprawling tree, the two figures were bathed in long, flickering shadows.
"This is not a tale of fiction," the narrator began, his voice barely louder than the rustle of the evening leaves. "Whatever I am going to say now is most certainly true. Listen—this is not to inspire you, nor to make you fear. It is simply the tale of the glorified king."
Yu Fan leaned back against the rough bark of the trunk, squinting through the dimming light. "Sounds interesting. Where did you learn these antics, old man?"
The narrator didn't answer immediately. He watched a crow settle on a branch above them before speaking again. "Sit back and listen to the tale of one whom you shall never aspire to be. For such sins, even thy mother shan't forgive you."
Narrator: "Five graves sit unmarked in the valley of the Cult, Yu Fan. Each one a failed experiment. But Mo Wang... when he was born, the sky didn't turn blue for three days. He didn't cry. He only stared at the shadows, and the shadows stared back."
Yu Fan: (Shifting uncomfortably as the wind picks up) "And the mother? Yuve? Did she get what she wanted?"
Narrator: "She got a son. But she forgot one thing: once you invite a King into a house, he no longer takes orders from the servants."
"But Fate is a fickle weaver," the narrator whispered, the shadows of the tree limbs looking like grasping fingers in the dark.
"Yuve promised him to the Demon King, yes. But his father, Wang-Ten, had secrets of his own. Deep in the salt mines of the north, he had knelt before the Devil Lord and made the exact same pact. Mo Wang was born a house with two masters, both demanding the keys."
Yu Fan gasped. "A body cannot hold two such fires. He should have burned to ash."
"He should have," the narrator agreed, a grim smile touching his lips. "But it was through that very mistake—that clash of two hells—that Mo Wang found a crack in his chains. He did not serve the Demon, nor did he bow to the Devil. He fought them both every breath of his life. And in that struggle, he forged a power that would eventually bring all of Ancient Zhongguo to its knees."
The narrator stood up, his silhouette black against the rising moon. "He didn't just survive his fate, Yu Fan. He conquered it."
The narrator stood, brushing the dust from his robes as the last sliver of sun vanished. "Everything I have told you is inscribed upon the Jade Pillars of the Heavenly Court. But beware—rumors say that if a mortal lays eyes upon those carvings, their mind would shatter. The complexity of our Lord's life is a burden too heavy for the unprepared."
Yu Fan stared at the old man, his voice trembling slightly. "So... our former Lord's life was truly that hard?"
"Harder than any poem or song could capture," the narrator replied, beginning to walk away into the gathering gloom. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "If you are truly ready to learn the path he walked, meet me in the valley near the Spring River at dawn."