Xisias 

A chill wind blew through the trees, and a man stirred from his sleep. Long dark hair trailed along the modest pillow he had laid on and after a moment, dark blue eyes opened to peer around the tent.

“She’s coming.” He sat up slowly, carefully freeing himself from the blanket as his lover stirred beside him. Her skin was bright and luminous against the pale moonlight, and he allowed himself a soft smile before covering her gently. Carefully and quietly, he stepped outside of the tent, looking out into the dark trees. 

“Took you long enough Zhi, or is it Adjunct Yinshi now?” his voice was carrying easily through the trees without rising above the wind. A moment later, a form landed on the ground a few paces away, and the woman’s silver and blue robes nearly glowed in the darkness. Her dark eyes were sharp and penetrating in the darkness, her flowing brown hair carefully tied up with a single hair pin. “Ming tried to stay awake for you.”

“It’s best she stays asleep.” Zhi spoke with a soft tone, and the man tilted his head with amusement. “I’d rather not have to kill both of you.”

“So, finally chosen a side, huh?” the man sighed heavily, feigning an upset expression as he stepped closer to Zhi and away from the tent. “Why now? You could have killed me years ago.”

“You were helping then.”

“Helping, my ass.” the man interrupted, dropping all pretense as he summoned his inner qi, rushing Zhi as black and jade flames wrapped around his robes. She was quick to draw her blade and block him, the metal almost instantly covered in golden water as he was forced back. “You knew what I was doing. You just wanted Ming to keep liking you too.”

“Yes, I didn’t want to lose Ming as a friend, but you were helping, Cheng.” Zhi agreed, twisting her blade so the golden water the golden sheen rippled outward instead of holding firm. Cheng’s momentum slid off the angle she offered, his charge breaking apart as his feet scraped a shallow furrow in the earth. “If not for you, it would have taken years to eliminate the demonic sects.”

“You’re still saying that like it means something.” Cheng’s voice was tight now, no humor left in it as he settled into a stance that was almost casual, shoulders loose, spine straight, weight centered as though the ground itself had aligned to him. The black and jade flames did not flare higher; they folded inward, drawn close to his body, wrapping him like a second skin rather than a display. “Like it erases all of the cultivators I was killing at the same time.”

Zhi did not answer immediately. She advanced instead, one precise step, then another, blade held low and close to her body. Her eyes never left Cheng’s throat, the line of his collarbone, the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Cheng shook his head, sighing heavily again as if the fight was merely an annoying mosquito hovering near his face. 

“You knew I was killing more the demonic sect, that I was never on the side of the Heavenly families.” Cheng insisted, using his hand to grab Zhi’s blade as it came in low and fast toward his ribs. He grabbed the metal without hesitation, black and jade flames snapping inward as they met the golden water clinging to her sword. The contact rang like a muted bell, qi grinding against qi rather than steel biting flesh. “I thought you didn’t want Ming to see you killing me.”

Zhi twisted the sword in Cheng’s hand, forcing him to either release it or have his fingers sheared through by the spiraling golden water. He released an instant before the edge could bite, his hand snapping back as the black and jade flames recoiled inward again, dispersing the cutting force rather than meeting it head-on. His elbow came down in the same motion, not fast, not slow, simply present, aimed at the crown of Zhi’s head.

She ducked under it by a hair’s breadth, the movement already flowing into her next attack. Her blade flashed upward, edge skimming toward the inside of his thigh where muscle and artery ran close together. Cheng lifted his leg, knee rising without tension, and her sword passed beneath it, cutting only air. He set his foot down exactly where it had been before, weight settling as though it had never left.

“Why are you doing this, Zhi?” Cheng sighed, watching as his former friend reset her stance, her qi shimmering and dripping from the blade like the blood she hoped to draw from him. “The families are not you. They will never learn.”

“You don’t know that.” Zhi insisted, her voice tight as she shifted her grip, sliding her rear hand along the hilt until the pommel pressed firmly into her palm. The golden water along her blade thickened, no longer flowing freely but clinging in layered currents that pulsed in time with her breath. “I–”

“Could what? Teach them? Change them? How many times before do you think you’ve said those same words, held on to that same foolish hope as you struck me down?” Cheng scoffed, not giving her the time to ready her attack. This time he stepped forward, a single quiet shift of weight that brought him inside her reach. The flames danced out from his body, aiming for Zhi’s neck and wrists. She adjusted, not retreating, not meeting the flames head-on, but slipping sideways just enough that the black and jade heat brushed past her throat instead of engulfing it.

Her blade rotated with her wrist, the golden water collapsing inward, thinning until it became a razor’s edge rather than a flowing veil. She stepped into the space his advance had opened, her shoulder brushing his chest as her sword drove toward the hollow beneath his arm. Cheng turned with her, spine still straight, center unbroken. The golden water hissed where it met the edge of his flames, both forces skidding past one another in a tight spiral that tore up dirt and leaves at their feet.

“Every cycle leaves a chance for change.” Zhi insisted.

“And yet here we are, fighting again, because of them.” Cheng answered. 

They danced through the nearby trees, slowly and consciously moving further away from the tent where Ming slept. Zhi kept up with her deadly strikes, but Cheng remained committed to only defending himself. Even if she had made her choice, had chosen the Heavenly Sect, he would not kill his friend. Even if he could. Even if, maybe he should.

Cheng still remembered the day they had learned the truth, when an old monk had let slip a secret they were never meant to know. How his and Zhi’s souls had been reincarnated countless times, always to ensure the Heavenly Sect paid the debt they kept pushing onto others. He could still remember Zhi’s horrified silence, and Ming’s insistent bargaining. 

Cheng stepped away from another strike, putting distance between himself and Zhi. She was breathing heavily, that killing intent still in her eyes, and he let out a humorless laugh. Her core was almost exhausted, while he knew he could go on for hours more and yet her gaze had not changed. She had no intention of backing off, of letting this end without one of them dying.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing they had gotten close to the edge of the cliff. He and Ming had chosen this spot because they knew it would take the Heavenly Sect a while to find them. After all, he had “kidnapped” the Shengluo heir during his last attack on them, determined to make the sect bend to his whims. If only they knew the truth, how desperate Ming was to free her friends from their fate.

“Isn't it strange Zhi? Ever since hearing the truth, I’ve been conflicted. Confused on what is my choice, and what the Heavenly Sect forced me to become,” Cheng laughed again, the sound trailing off as his gaze flicked briefly toward the dark drop of the cliff behind him. “A part of me wants to kill everything, destroy the Heavenly Sect to pay off the debt that keeps dragging my soul back into their mess. Then, at least, if I am brought back, it is my own fault.

“Another part of me just wants to be done with it. I want to run away with Ming and never think about the sect again,” Cheng glanced back to see Zhi still had her sword pointed at him, although there was no longer any assurance in her stance. “And yet, I also wish that monk had never told us. That we could still believe everything was because of who we are, what we did. You do too, don’t you?”

Zhi’s hand and shoulders shook and even without words, Cheng knew she did. With a heavy sigh, Cheng released his qi, the black and jade flames disappearing from the robes he wore. He stepped back closer to the ledge, noticing the way Zhi quickly looked up. 

“Cheng, you–”

“I still remember that night we bathed at the hot spring together.” Cheng interrupted, looking up to the vast expanse of stars above them. “I thought I had to be the luckiest guy in the world, to have two beautiful women with me. How many guys could even dream of that happening to them?”

“Cheng, stop! You–”

“If we had been born with unique souls, I wonder what we could be, Zhi,” Cheng continued, closing his eyes as the wind tugged at his hair and robes, pulling them toward the waiting dark beyond the cliff. The stars above seemed impossibly distant, cold pinpricks of light. “Maybe my father could still be alive. Maybe I could have met my real mother, at least once. Maybe I could have been a loyal cultivator of the sect like you wanted me to be.”

He exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him like something precious he was finally willing to give up. His feet shifted another half-step back, heel brushing loose gravel. Pebbles skittered over the edge, vanishing soundlessly into the abyss.

“Cheng,” Zhi said, and this time there was no steel left in her voice. It cracked on his name, splintering under the weight of everything she was trying not to say. She took a step forward despite herself, the golden water along her blade thinning, losing cohesion as exhaustion took its toll. “Why?”

“Do you intend to let me live, return to Ming?” Cheng breathed and Zhi’s silence answered for her. “You are too exhausted to kill me and I refuse to kill you.”

“You…” Zhi’s voice trailed off and he opened his eyes and looked at her then. The precision was gone from her stance. Her shoulders were slumped, her breathing uneven, skin bright with sweat as she still struggled to hold her form. She was killing herself slowly, just to keep fighting, and Cheng looked away. “Why me? You killed hundreds of other cultivators. Why am I special?”

“You know how I am, Zhi.” Cheng replied quietly. “Things have to be my way.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. The forest behind Zhi whispered with nocturnal life, unaware of the choice unfolding at its edge. Cheng’s thoughts drifted to Ming, curled beneath blankets, breathing softly, trusting he was still beside her. He wondered if she would wake before dawn, if she would feel the moment his presence vanished from the world like a snuffed candle.

“We won’t remember, will we?” Zhi’s voice was soft, as if she could barely find the air to speak.

“We never do and that’s why it matters,” Cheng breathed, closing his eyes one last time. “Tell Ming I’m sorry.”

And with one more step, Hanyu Cheng disappeared from the world.