General Ming Guang moved unnoticed through the cobbled streets of Ghost City. He was rather heavily disguised. Pei Ming was unused to such cheap tactics; never before had he been forced to don a different face—he'd never needed to—but this wasn't the time for risks. Or pride. Too much hung in the balance.
Twilight bloomed in a crimson haze above the cluttered xie-shan rooftops, the sharp scent of blood hanging in the air. Red lanterns bobbed in the warm breeze, and the lively streets fizzed with magic. The city roared with shouting and laughter, with mania, with evil.
Ghost city.
The Ghost Realm's crowned jewel, at the border of Yin and Yang. A wretched den of iniquity. Hua Cheng's insidious seat of power.
Pei forced his expression into neutrality as he passed masked vendors selling vats of congealed stew, floating eyes and limbs bubbling to the surface; butchers hawking obviously human body parts; empty-eyed ghost women pushing their breasts up toward him, their makeup like foul frosting on a mouldering cake.
Despite his curiosity, Pei had never set foot in ghost city before. This was for two reasons. The first was that, out of respect, he did not like to infringe upon the jurisdiction of other martial gods, and this was General Tai Hua's territory, silly child that he was. The second reason was one he didn't like to acknowledge, even to himself.
If the Crimson Rain Sought Flower—the Scourge of Heaven, the most powerful of the four calamities, the Ghost King—was unhappy with his presence here, he wasn't certain what the outcome would be. Pei Ming did not doubt his own abilities—not his martial prowess, nor his cunning. He was nearly 1000 years old, and there were few who would dare challenge him.
But tonight, he would come face-to-face with Hua Cheng for the first time. If things didn't go well, how would Pei fair? He liked to think he could hold his own, but Hua Cheng had made a mockery of 33 gods, effortlessly defeating them in both battle and debate, burning their temples in the blink of an eye. They were not gods anymore.
Pei shook off his unease. Now was the time for guts and guile. There was no room for failure. There was still hope that Shi Wudu was correct, and that Hua Cheng would be sympathetic to their plight—although sympathetic was the wrong word. What Shu Wudu had perhaps meant was that their goals were aligned.
The infamous Gambler's Den loomed before him, imposing in its sheer scale, its crimson facade bright and lurid. Gaudy. Sinister. Placards hung from the massive pillars at the front entrance: "money over life, gains over shame, ha ha ha," scrawled in decidedly atrocious and horrifically evil calligraphy. A low, barely audible moan rumbled through the ground beneath his feet as he ascended the steps. Pei Ming shuddered.
Inside was a madhouse. Ghosts of every ilk and rank, every size and shape, masked and unmasked, shouted, drank, placed bets, offering such things as limbs, freedom, and life up as collateral. A grand staircase, with wide golden steps, led to sheer red curtains. Behind the curtains, a dais. On the dais, a figure, obscured by rippling red silk.
Hua Cheng.
Pei stood in his eye line, hoping his stillness would be enough to attract the calamity's curiosity. After a moment, and a subtle nod toward the dais, Pei moved fluidly through the crowd and took a seat at a table bathed in an eerie red glow. It was removed from the rest of the tables, though not private enough for Pei's liking.
A pretty young ghost came by with a tray of cocktails. She wore no ghoulish makeup like the ghosts he'd seen on the streets, and her waist was cinched. He could wrap his entire hand around it. Her hips swayed gently as she moved. It was appealing. Pei had never fucked a ghost before. Or had he? Oh well.
"Good evening, young master. Care for a drink or a plate?" The illusion of her purple hair was a blur of gnarled string. A poor attempt. But her violet eyes were bright. Stunning. "We serve food for humans, too. No need to be shy."
"What's on the tray?" Pei asked boldly, putting on one of his most charming smirks.
She raised a fair brow, lowering the tray, and Pei's smile widened. The cocktails glowed a garish green and smelled of sulphur. "This is goblin's blood. Quite bitter, but with a nice finish. Guaranteed to please."
"When in Ghost City." Pei nodded his thanks as the pretty ghost set a goblet before him. He had no intention of drinking it. But he needed something to do with his hands. He wondered if Hua Cheng would approach him, or if he would need to find some other means of getting the Ghost King's attention.
But the moment the waitress was gone, the chair across from him was pulled out, and a young man sat down. The most overtly beautiful young man General Ming Guang had seen in his long years…apart, of course, from His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle—a peerless beauty, odd though he was. Pei could still never tell what the banished martial god was thinking behind those honey-gold eyes of his, behind his placid smile and million-mile stare. Haunted. That was the word to describe Xie Lian's gaze. His beauty, too.
The boy sitting across from him looked to be 16 or 17 years of age, with skin pale as milk and shining black hair wild as raven feathers. His eyes were burnt amber, framed by thick dark lashes. His silken robes were of fine quality, maple red, perfectly tailored to his trim waist and long, elegant limbs. He leaned back in his chair with the confidence of a king, power and evil radiating from him in thick waves. The boy eyed the green goblet on the table with amusement, but said nothing.
For a moment, Pei Ming could only stare, his mouth dry. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He'd faced the worst evils the world had to offer in his lifetime. Monsters, demons, ghosts—none had truly been anything to worry about. But now, every instinct in his body was screaming for him to run. RUN. He ignored those instincts, of course. He was a martial god, after all.
There was no doubt. This was the Crimson Rain Sought Flower. This was Hua Cheng in one of his innumerable forms. And Pei Ming was here for a reason.
"Lord Crimson Rain," Pei said with false bravado.
Hua Cheng leaned his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand, and Pei couldn't help himself but to lean back. Away from his overt killing intent. "General Ming Guang," the Ghost King replied.
Pei scoffed, another shiver chasing his spine. Hua Cheng had seen straight through the disguise. Not a surprise.
"Such an honour to have the Martial God of the North in my humble establishment." Hua Cheng's voice, dripping with sarcasm, was like caramel, smooth and deep—much deeper than it should be for a boy of his age. Though, no one truly knew how old the ghost king was. At least 800 years. He crossed his legs, silver bells on his black boots tinkling. Silver vambraces flashed, engraved with butterflies.
"The honour is mine, Lord Ghost King." Pei steeled himself. This was as much of an opening as he could have hoped for, no blades yet drawn. He snatched the goblin blood from the table and threw the putrid green liquid back with one swallow. He stifled a grimace. Vile stuff.
Hua Cheng tisked, his eyes glowing faintly. "Goblin's blood is meant to be savoured, but I suppose the flavour compounds require a refined palate."
Pei ignored the barb. "I come to request a private audience."
"Ah. Straight to the point, then. You're here on behalf of your Heavenly Emperor, I presume?" Hua Chung snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the roaring chaos of the Gambler's Den quieted to a muffled din. The bright red lights dimmed, a thin golden array surrounding them. "There. Privacy. How's that?"
Pei nodded. "You've been aggressively burning temples of the Heavenly Emperor."
Hua Cheng leaned closer, his pretty eyes dancing with evil glee. "Have you come to ask me to stop?"
"I have come to ask why." Pei kept his tone neutral. He needed to reveal information in the correct order, without giving Hua Cheng more than necessary. But the way the Ghost King was looking at him gave him a strange, panicked feeling.
The Ghost King merely smiled, his dark brows shooting up.
Pei took a steadying breath. It was a risk. A risk they had all agreed needed to be taken. If he didn't give something, the conversation would be over before it began. "Is it because you believe Jun Wu is Bai Wuxiang?"
Hua Cheng froze, just as Pei suspected he would. His gleeful expression remained unchanged, but his amber eyes darkened to a flaming crimson.
"Scram!" Hua Cheng's commanding voice echoed through the Gambler's Den. There was a moment of stillness. Then a wild scramble, as every ghost, every member of the waitstaff, every ghoul and drunk and croupier, made haste for the exit. Then, there was silence. The Gambler's Den was empty.
"You have a choice, Pei Ming. Get to your point quickly or die slowly."
"I have come to ask for your aid," Pei continued with practised ease, as though his heart was not crashing against his rib cage. "To defeat Jun Wu for good."
Hua Cheng stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed. "All right. You have my attention, Heavenly Official. Though, this calls for a real drink."
Moments later, a masked figure appeared carrying a tray. He wore long dark robes, his brown hair braided over his shoulder. He set two tulip glasses filled with clear liquid on the table, then quickly departed.
Hua Cheng wrapped his long slim fingers around the crystal glass. His fingernails were painted black and sharpened to points. The effect was as eerie as it was alluring. "I am, of course, aware that you and the Emperor have never been on good terms, but I did not expect this. Vying for his position, then, I assume, General?"
"Should Jun Wu fall, I would not be the one to take his place." Pie took a sip of the liquor. Very fine baiju. He released a long sigh, savouring the flavours on his tongue.
"Oh? I'm listening."
Pei Ming did not like the feeling that he was intellectually outmatched. He needed to be on guard, yet he suspected he was in over his head. The Crimson Rain Sought Flower was devious. Shrewd. Fox-like. "You misunderstand. The reason I have come to you is far more sinister than a mere coup d'etat. There is a small army of Heavenly Officials in the fold at the moment, but our numbers are still too few. Not even with our combined mana could we accomplish the task before us."
Hua Cheng sipped his baiju. He said nothing.
"Tell me, Hua Cheng. What do you know of breaking cursed shackles?"
"Whose shackles do you intend to break?"
"I will only answer your question if you tell me why you are burning Jun Wu's temples."
A dark look passed over Hua Cheng's face. His slippery-as-silk black hair tumbled out of its tie, cascading over his shoulder. Pei found himself entranced.
"As you said, Jun Wu is Bai Wuxiang. Though how you learned his true identity is what interests me now."
"You first." Pei was pushing his luck, but he needed to be sure. Xie Lian's safety was imperative. He could not risk betraying the prince's involvement or his whereabouts. Jun Wu had been searching for him 800 years. If he found the crown prince...
Hua Cheng furrowed his brow. "I will make you a deal, Pei Ming. I will grant you my help. I will aid in any way I can. I will protect you and your army of Heavenly Officials, and I will keep your secrets. What I ask in return" —he paused, leaning closer, a wicked gleam in his eyes— "is complete transparency. Why do you ask about cursed shackles? Tell me, and you have my cooperation."
Pei gritted his teeth. A simple request. All was going according to plan. Yet every fibre of his being warned him not to trust the Ghost King. There was an intensity in Hua Cheng's eyes that hadn't been there before. As if he was waiting for something. But they'd agreed. They had all agreed. This was the only way. He had no choice but to disclose the guarded information. He only hoped this wouldn't end in doom.
"There is one in our ranks who could defeat Bai Wuxiang."
"Ah." A flash of sharp teeth. "How's that? Someone more powerful than you, General? Very impressive."
Pei Ming chuckled softly. "What? You want me to admit that this god can easily destroy me in a sparring match? That his martial excellence is beyond compare? Fine. I'm not so proud. He is a sword master of the highest order. Enough to destroy Jun Wu, certainly. But his spiritual powers have been sealed by cursed shackles. Not just one, not two...but six. And if we cannot remove them, we have little chance of success."
"Six shackles." The Ghost King's expression had gone blank.
"Six. Despite his martial talent, the shackles feed on his strength. He is essentially weaker than most humans in his current state. Still. He's a hell of a fighter. I've seen nothing like it in my long years." Pei Ming closed his eyes, taking another sip of liquor. The savour was beautiful and smooth. It warmed the cold pit in his stomach and burned away the foul taste of goblin blood.
"And who is this unfortunate god?"
"A banished Heavenly Official. He has been in hiding for nearly 800—"
Hua Cheng sucked in a breath, and Pei paused, eyeing him cautiously. What information had he unknowingly revealed? But the Ghost King's expression was still strangely blank.
"Go on."
"I found the banished god by chance, a few hundred years ago. Buried in a coffin with a dowel through his heart." It had been a disturbing sight. It had taken nearly a week to revive him, and a year to restore him to full health. But Xie Lian was resilient. And somehow still kind, despite the despair he'd endured. Pei huffed a baffled laugh, thinking of His Highness' gentle nature. "He'd been in the coffin nearly a century—not a pretty situation. Though I suspect he thought it was worth the suffering to escape Jun Wu's reach. We have kept him safe by constantly moving him to new locations. New safe houses. Different aliases, different disguises. We rotate his guard weekly. Still. I feel Jun Wu's gaze, his singular focus...he suspects—"
"Jun Wu knows of this god's potential to defeat him? Why wouldn't he have just killed him rather than slapping six cursed shackled on him? Or is there something more? Give me the full account," Hua Cheng interrupted, his voice cold and hard as diamond. Something had shifted in the Ghost King's demeanour. His intensity was oppressive, and Pei Ming suddenly found it hard to breathe.
He didn't want to discuss this. He didn't like thinking about it. The whole thing turned his stomach—made him want to retch.
"The Emperor has a" —Pei sucked in a breath through his teeth, a chill going down his spine— "sick obsession with him. Deeply troubling. The banished god refuses to share details, but after his second ascension, there was a bloody battle between the god and the Emperor. Jun Wu banished him again, bestowing the five additional shackles. But instead of exiling him to the mortal realm, Jun Wu locked him in the Palace of Divine Might for a week. The god will not share how he escaped, but after this, he abruptly abandoned his cultivation practice—abstinence from worldly pleasures—in favour of another. It is clear enough what happened. Jun Wu won't kill him. No. He wants...something more—"
Hua Cheng shot to his feet, and with one savage motion, the table, along with the fine liquor they'd been sipping, crashed against the marble wall, smashing to splinters of wood and shards of crystal.
The sudden and unexpected violence of the Ghost King's rage triggered Pei into a response. His disguise fell away. He jumped to his feet with godly speed, his blade unsheathed in a heartbeat, his skin shining gold in the wake of his true form. But Hua Cheng had turned his back to Pei Ming. His shoulders quaking. Crimson waves of murderous intent billowing around him.
What the fuck just happened?
"You can sheath your blade, General. No harm will come to you here, you have my word." Hua Cheng's voice was quiet. As though he was barely containing his fury. "I have one more question. The banished god. Is he the Flower Crowned Martial God, His Highness the Crowned Prince of Xianle?"