Xiyu shook in her sleep. In her dream, she saw faces, many of which she could not recognise. However, one person existed which instilled fear in her.
She dreamed of being the baby in the crib from memory and hearing the melodious voice again. This time, she saw the face of the owner of the voice. Her hair curled around her shoulder like vines, and her cheeks were flushed a sweet pink. She appeared delighted as she spoke to the man beside her.
The man’s face was clear now, and she was stupefied upon recognising the familiar features of his face. He was a younger Muxue Yan. His hair colour was lighter, and though he had always looked young, he had a slimmer face. He was also much more cheerful as he indulged the baby in the crib. Compared to the Muxue Yan he had seen earlier, this version of Muxue Yan was more emotional.
“Ah, she’s biting on your finger,” the lady said. She sounded somewhat weak, likely having survived an ordeal before this time. The man only smiled.
The woman's voice continued to call her by that different name. Yun'er, Yun'er. The name drove chills down her spine. She trembled in her sleep as she unconsciously recognised the facial features of the owner of the voice.
Ao Yun. She had been in the glass casket that day.
If she was indeed the baby in the crib, did that mean that she was their child? And if she was, why had they ultimately frozen her as written in the books? Why was she raised away from Xuancang and not by them?
Most importantly, had her entire life been a lie?
Why was Ao Yun dead, and why did she only have dreams of Muxue Yan and not the both of them?
The torment by all these questions just confused her more. She didn’t know who she was anymore, and she sensed herself falling downwards in her dreams.
Like Dongyue, she would always be an outcast, deprived of the love from her parents. If Muxue Yan was truly her father, she wondered what his motive for keeping her in the temple with them was. He could have left easily or even killed them all.
But it appeared that he was after something more significant, she realised. Was he delaying the travel for a particular reason? Did he have any fatherly feelings towards her, or was she a mere pawn in his endeavours?
……………………………………………………………………………
Dongyue bowed in obeisance of the revered ancestor.
“Sir Muxue, your humble guest Zhan Dongyue pays his respect.”
“No need to stand on ceremony.” Muxue Yan waved his arms abruptly, stirring up a creepy wind that blew Dongyue off balance. He hurriedly stood up and wasted no time in announcing the reason for his arrival.
“Sir, Xiyu seems to be in some danger. Her lips appear blue, and she sometimes feels hot and sometimes shivers. I’ve transferred some of my health to her, but it doesn’t help her for long.”
The man looked very cross. Dongyue sensed that he and Xiyu must have a special connection, so he maintained his composure. Hopefully, the old swordsman would not stab him to death or mash him into a pulp.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO XIYU?” the man boomed.
He immediately handed over the parchment paper with his outstretched hands. Crossly the man took the paper and read it without pausing to drink the tea on his table.
“Soul-Bond Rite. Are you saying that you initiated the soul-bonding with her?” Muxue Yan croaked.
“Yes, Sir. I thought that was the best option at the moment since she was unconscious and bleeding profusely,” he said.
“Bleeding from what?”
He relayed how he had seen her start bleeding after she had cut herself to free Yan.
“Because those are the Bonds of Life,” Muxue Yan said. “They are made from the tendons of one of my sons, a valiant fighter. If not for Xiyu, I would not have made it to today.”
Dongyue felt misled by Yan. For someone of such extraordinary ability, he could not fathom why Yan required Xiyu to be the one to free him, and why and who had imprisoned him either. But now was not the time for such curiosity. In the future, there would be opportunities to learn about the peculiar man’s history, if he was willing to tell.
“She is weak now and cannot even stand. She’s pushing herself to move around. Pray, please tell me how I can save her with a ritual.”
Yan was aloof, scrutinising the poor man from head to toe. He appeared like any regular traveller, not appearing to have anything special that would make Muxue Xiyu adore him. Yet, the teleportation platform incident had told him otherwise.
“I am not well versed in witchcraft, boy. However, there is a ritual chamber to the northeast.”
He pointed Dongyue towards the direction of the ritual chamber while saying, "Dark magic. You shouldn't have dabbled in the first place."
"There was no other way. You left, too." Dongyue said painfully. The ancestor stared at him heatedly, and immediately two marks appeared on Dongyue's cheeks as if Muxue Yan had slapped him.
He apologised, not meaning to be rude. Eventually, Yan fathomed his pain.
"You are in love with Xiyu, aren't you?" Yan demanded authoritatively. His demonic aura was shocking, a part he had kept hidden from Xiyu.
Dongyue was startled by this change in the seemingly benevolent ancestor earlier, and he gaped in confusion. He prayed and contained his fear, appearing relaxed once more.
He bowed with his hands clasped together, indicating his humility. "Yes, Sir. I have pledged myself to her, Sir Muxue."
Yan clapped his hands, laughing evilly. His eyes had a distinct green glow to them, which had that terrorising effect on regular humans.
He advised Dongyue with a menacing grin, "In the ritual chambers, you should find the almanac that tells what is ample to invoke the ritual. Keep her safe, or I will have your head on a platter."
He added, "but in consideration that you have already bonded with her in the soul, essentially I should keep you alive."
"Thank you, Sir."
Dongyue found his motivation to step ahead, moving for five hundred steps to reach the ritual chamber. Unlike the other rooms, the chamber did not have an ice door.
The door was bright red in colour and decorated with a multitude of coloured jewels. Instinct made him realise that this was no other than Ao Yun's ritual chamber.
The ritual chamber was also not like any ritual chamber in history. He had long heard stories of the witch doctors in Yilong, carrying skulls, animal carcasses and other horrifying elements, because these witch doctors believed in them. It was vehemently disgusting even to visualise them in one's mind.
Why did Ao Yun practice dark magic? He wondered. Since the temple was merely a projection of a real structure in Yan's memory, the ritual chamber had to be existent. A chill went down his back as he pranced in the room, searching for the books that Yan had spoken of.
In a corner, a few ancient books lay in a rusty iron shelf, likely having degenerated after millenniums of being untouched. Tremblingly, he seized one book labelled 'Survival Magic', scanning through its contents and not obtaining what he required, he placed it back frantically and took another off the shelf.
The book that entailed the ritual was the fifth book he had picked up, 'Dark Fear'. From the prefaces, Dongyue derived that the books were written and compiled by Ao Yun herself, as she was pursuing a solution to her husband's demonism.
He ensured that he recorded the entire details of the dark ritual in his mind, etching every word deep in his photographic memory. He could not allow anything to happen to Xiyu, even at the cost of his own life.
"Xiyu, wait for me," he cried out as he reached the final page of the book. The shock of the atrocity in each step of the ritual was grotesque, but for his lover, he was positive he would be able to go through the entire ordeal for her sake.
Meeting her had been his fortune. The memory of seeing her without her veil for the first time, bare from head to toe, flashed distinctly in his memory. Ao Yun had left notes on a witch's sensuality and how a witch was at a disadvantage.
Now he appreciated why her skin had been scorchingly hot that time, and why she had been incapable of refraining from wildly and hungrily kissing him and imposing her audacious actions on him.
He only held that after the ritual, she would continue to love him and come to become his true wife. He did not want it to be an obligation, or for it to be a loveless union just because of their bond.
Though he understood from the scroll that it was an everlasting union that would stand until the day they died, he could not hold it against her that she should force herself to love him.
Although now, he sensed she did have some mutual feelings and need for him. Whether or not those feelings would blossom into love, it was a long journey that they needed to discover for themselves.
From his throne deep in his chambers, Muxue Yan utilised his late wife's mystic mirror to observe each movement from Dongyue, smiling malevolently.
He was mindful that he was one step closer now to the insidious plans he had planned, intentions that he would not allow Xiyu to know. Sooner or later, she would learn her actual identity, and she had to accept it by all means. Until then, he would protect her from the appalling truth.