Chapter Text
I’m going to die today.
It was a thought that had been plaguing Mu Qing since his confrontation with the Heavenly Emperor. The cursed shackles a death sentence. His spiritual energy is barely there, leaving a gaping hole where his strength should’ve been.
It was humiliating and terrifying at the same time.
Mu Qing was practically a mortal walking into a fight of Gods and Calamities.
There was no way he would see tomorrow’s sunrise.
It was fine, though. He deserved it: A failure as heavy as the one Mu Qing had committed could only be paid with blood.
How had he not seen it? How had he missed the signs? He was meant to protect Xie Lian from the smiling dangers His Highness was too naive to see himself!
But no. Instead he had allowed Bai Wuxiang alone with his prince and even subtly encouraged the friendship between crown princes, too blind to the truth himself. Too enamoured with the shining face of the Heavens to even remember the basics of his duties.
In truth it wouldn’t matter if his demise came at the hands of Jun Wu, Feng Xing or Hua Cheng -the last one would crush him gleefully now more than ever- but he selfishly wished it would be Jun Wu so at least his death would be in service of His Highness as it always should’ve been.
Being doubted and accused was a common occurrence during his teen-years so as much as it irritated him, it was also not something that bothered him much to a deeper level. Not even when it was Feng Xing spitting nonsense. Whatever kind of trust they had built during the last two hundred years was gone the moment His Highness ascended for the third time and Mu Qing realized he was and would always be the second choice.
It was fine!
It didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t…
“You’re both missing the point,” Feng Xing said. “I wasn’t suspicious that he isn’t the real thing.”
“So what are you trying to say?” Mu Qing demanded, an ugly feeling curling in his stomach.
“I’ve thought he’s the real Mu Qing since the beginning. He couldn’t stand the both of us, so it wouldn’t be strange for him to do anything.” Feng Xing said simply, as if he wasn't trampling his heart by denouncing him as an enemy.
Motherfucker.
Mu Qing’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles cracking, and he flickered his hand. Wasting energy he couldn’t afford, but unwilling to let it go, aiming for his head without doubt or hesitation.
If Feng Xing wanted to go there, they could go there!
As if Feng Xing would be alive if Mu Qing had wanted him dead! As if Mu Qing wouldn’t have finished the job and would leave him injured to lure Xie Lian to a trap!
As if Feng Xing didn’t know how it felt to have Zhanmadao cut through flesh and bone, as if he hadn’t tasted what Mu Qing's hate was like for decades after they both ascended.
Feng Xing, of course, dodged.
And then flung a fireball back at him, snarling like a rabid dog.
They continued the familiar dance by testing each other, calming down slowly as they deescalated the fight from deadly blows to bare fists. It wasn’t gentle by any outsider’s standard but for them it was, it almost felt like an apology.
Almost as if saying: Sorry, just needed to be sure it was you.
Then, Crimson Rain fucking returned and he was being gross to His Highness.
And Mu Qing wanted to tear his fucking hair out. It was like seeing a twisted reflection of years past when Xie Lian was dumb about him instead much to everyone else’s horror and mortification.
No wonder everyone hated him back then.
In fact, he was a little bit surprised that Feng Xing hadn’t drowned him and left him to rot to save himself the headache.
It’s what Mu Qing would’ve done had he been in his place— Gods, it’s what he had done when they returned to the palace and he was faced with Xie Lian’s naivety and unwillingness to listen! So many fucking creepy nobles trying to entice Xie Lian to break his cultivation.
A neverending nightmare that had left him with his nerves flayed open.
Mu Qing shook himself from the dark musings, this was not the time.
Furthermore, there wasn’t much he could do about Crimson Rain. Not when the bastard was stronger than Feng Xing and him together and could be a useful weapon in the incoming battle.
It was better to let it go.
No matter how much it made him despair that Xie Lian continued to not listen when in face of danger.
“And that’s about it… To be honest, I really don’t know who is more suspicious.” Xie Lian said, using his hand to support his forehead.
He looked so tired and Mu Qing felt a little pang of guilt.
“Do you even need to ask? Of course he’s the most suspicious one.” Hua Cheng pointed at him with his dirty finger.
“If you’re going to accuse me for nothing, at least have a reason?” Mu Qing bristled, faking anger when there was just tiredness. “Don’t throw everything on me whenever something happens.”
“Fine.” Hua Cheng said, smile twisting into something with too many teeth. “Then let me ask you a question: What’s that on your wrist?”
Mu Qing froze, paling a few shades.
A wave of sickness returned with vengeance and he used all his auto-control to not gag as the memory slammed into him— Jun Wu’s overwhelming presence, his cruel eyes and even crueler words.
“On your wrist?” Feng Xing seized him before he could react, pulling his sleeve back and revealing the spell tattooed into his skin.
“Mu Qing, your hand?” Xie Lian asked, sounding dumbfounded.
Feng Xing’s hold turned harsh, his ulna cracked under the pressure. Mu Qing grunted as he was forced to kneel, a callous hand took his neck and squeezed in warning.
Usually warm pools of honey had turned cold, so cold that Mu Qing knew he was watching the Butcher of Nijin instead of General Nang Yang, protector of the Southwest.
“Are you working with Jun Wu?” Feng Xing demanded, cutting whatever Hua Cheng was about to say and pulling a gasp from Xie Lian.
“If you think me disloyal, you better kill me now.” Mu Qing glared, fierce and outraged.
The hand squeezed harder and his breathing was interrupted, the awful feeling of suffocation being the only thing Mu Qing could focus on. His free hand twitched, he pushed down the instinct to go for Feng Xing’s tender parts to free himself.
This was fine.
Dying by the hand that had held his heart once upon a time was alright . It felt correct, somewhat. To have Feng Xing be the last thing he ever saw, to know that Feng Xing was strong enough for the both of them.
That His Highness wouldn't be left alone.
“Let him go!” Xie Lian ordered, sharp and cutting like a blade.
Feng Xing did.
Mu Qing knew the fingers had relaxed two seconds before His Highness had opened his mouth. He gasped, curling onto himself, pressing his broken arm to his chest and hissed as the pain made him dizzy.
“Fucking brute,” Mu Qing barked, looking up with tears in his eyes.
“Don’t be a wuss, it’s not like this is the first time I break your bones.” Feng Xing retorted, sounding terribly unhappy.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t basically a mortal then!”
He had been able to heal his bones himself, for once. And for the other, the pain barely registered under the rage that used to cover every one of their interactions.
“Give me your arm, then.” Feng Xing extended his hand, looking slightly apologetic.
Mu Qing bared his teeth but did so, biting his lip to stop the yell from leaving his throat when Feng Xing fixed the bone non-so gently.
“There. How is it?”
Mu Qing slapped him with enough force to twist his face to the right.
Feng Xing rubbed his cheek with a scowl, “If you wanted to borrow spiritual energy, you only had to ask.”
Mu Qing didn’t bother with an answer, thankful that it had worked at all. He could take other’s energy and keep it, but his own was out of question, which made no sense at all, but he wasn’t about to question Bai Wuxiang about his impractical choices.
“Mu Qing, are you alright?” Xie Lian asked, voice trembling as if he had seen something horrendous.
“Fine, your Highness.” Mu Qing sighed as he stood, facing his worried prince as he forced a weak smile.
Beside Xie Lian stood Crimson Rain, his face a mask of indifference. His eye couldn’t hide his shock and unease.
Ha! It showed what he knew, if he was surprised by this, then he was a fool. After all, there was nothing more important for Feng Xing than Xie Lian.
“Jun Wu wanted me to help him hurt His Highness,” Mu Qing offers an explanation, knowing there’s no other choice now. “I told him where he could put his terrible plans.”
“And he let you go?” Hua Cheng inquired, soft and deeply suspicious.
“I’m sure he hoped one of you would kill me so he could shove my innocence into His Highness' face during the battle or something like that.” Mu Qing shrugged, it was not an unsound plan.
Not when Xie Lian was obviously still attached to them even after eight-hundred years, a quirk that was both endearing and maddening in Mu Qing’s opinion.
Xie Lian makes a wounded sound, causing Crimson Rain to soothe him with a hug. They were absolutely shameless, absolutely disgusting. Mu Qing made no effort to hide his grimace and even raised his chin in dare when Crimson Rain glared at him.
“Can you fight?” Feng Xing, ever pragmatic, asked.
Fight, yes. Survive? No.
“If you try to leave me here, I will gut you.” Mu Qing warned, taking hold of Zhanmadao’s hilt.
“Mu Qing—”
“Jun Wu is Bai Wuxiang,” Mu Qing cut Feng Xing with bitterness, meeting his worried and exasperated eyes squarely. “Think carefully and then tell me this is not my fight.”
A muscle in Feng Xing’s jaw twitched. He looked away a moment after, eyes closed in pain as he couldn't force the words out.
Mu Qing nodded, glad that was done with.
They really had better things to do than Feng Xing playing the gallant lover who wanted to protect the damsel in distress, especially when Mu Qing’s throat was still sore and he was not feeling forgiving in the least.
“Gege, are we sure they are real?” Hua Cheng asked, draping himself over Xie Lian. “They’re acting erratic and troublesome.”
Xie Lian bit his lip.
Mu Qing lost all his patience.
“Oh? Do you wish for us to exchange childhood memories, Crimson Rain? Should I start with you?” Mu Qing’s grin was full of bloodied teeth. “The reckless brat who ogled a chaste god when he was a teenager and continued to do so for eight hundred years. A monster that hides behind a kind smile, no better than the beast we’re about to face.”
Hua Cheng blanches, taking a step back, and looking as unbalanced as if Mu Qing had stabbed him with E-Ming.
“Mu Qing!” Xie Lian screamed in the exact same tone he had yelled Get out of here! so many centuries ago.
And Mu Qing couldn’t quite hide the shiver that went from his head to his toes or the way he raised his arms as if to protect himself from a blow. Feng Xing shifted, nervous, hesitatingly putting himself between his prince and his ex with a painful grimace.
Xie Lian froze.
His face turned red, then green. He closed his eyes and turned his back to them, gently taking Hua Cheng’s face between his hands and whispered sweet reassurances.
Mu Qing closed his eyes, tired beyond measure.
At this pace they would kill each other and make Bai Wuxian’s work easier.
That, of course, was not something that they could allow. Mu Qing had no desire to be of use for the lying bastard and so, pragmatism won, he took a deep breath and fell back into old (bitter and ugly) habits.
His back bent and his eyes fell to the ground, “This humble servant is at fault, please allow this unworthy one to apologize—”
“Watch out!” Feng Xing said, right before the room exploded with murderous aura and the weapons in the walls became aggravated, violently shaking, some of them flying directly to their faces.
Fighting weapons was unsettling.
Finding Hua Cheng also had Xie Lian based trauma was even more so and Mu Qing had no desire to actually know what the Ghost King had been thinking because his own mind had created a lot of creative options that made him want to claw his eyes out.
Running away from the lava and using the empty-shells as transport was ten times worse.
Especially because he almost fell to his death and only avoided it thanks to Xie Lian using Rouye to save him. If Mu Qing wasn’t sure he was about to die anyway, he would have jumped to the pool of fire to save himself the humiliation.
That mocking smile on Crimson Rain’s face almost was enough to push him to the edge, too.
Gods, how he hated Hua Cheng, almost as much as he hated Bai Wuxiang if he was being honest.
Thankfully, they made it all in one piece to the other side. Unfortunately, Bai Wuxiang was waiting for them.
The White-Clothed Calamity was a titanic foe.
One that was very openly playing with them— So unlike the last Calamity Mu Qing had faced.
Then, it was over in less than two minutes.
Hua Cheng had been animalistic and brutal, lacking his usual grace, being only a mass of fury and hate, tearing chunks out of them with his cursed saber, laughing as they fought for their lives, howling in aggravation as Feng Xing finally managed to get them out of there.
Right now, they were about to pass the ten minute mark and none of them was closer to get a hit on Bai Wuxian than at the beginning.
“How lucky are you XianLe?!” Jun Wu crackles, sounding like he was chewing glass. “To have such dutiful servants after all this time! Biting the hand that elevated them all for an owner that threw him like the trash!”
Mu Qing makes a small sound of indignation at the back of his throat— Elevate them his ass!
Maybe he had done so with Feng Xing -it was suspicious they ascended just a few months apart when the archer had not cultivated a day of his life- but Mu Qing had always been meant for ascension and to hear this bastard imply otherwise burned.
“They’re not my servants!” Xie Lian fires back, sounding offended on their behalf.
And while, yes. Technically, neither of them was bound to him anymore with them being Gods in their own right and both having been, as Bai Wuxiang so kindly put it, thrown away…
It still hurts a little to be repudiated like that.
“They’re my friends!” Xie Lian continued, unaware that he was shattering world-views with his words. “My most dearest friends. Not that you would know what that’s like, do you? After all, no one fucking loved you.”
Did you knew about this? Feng Xing sputters in their personal communication array.
Of course not! Mu Qing throws back while choking on air, reeling from the revelation as he re-contextualised so many of their interactions from the last few months and years, centuries past.
Xie Lian had always been a kinder master than most, but that’s just how he was as a person. Or so Mu Qing had thought. But during the good days, Xie Lian had called them soft things and allowed them to intrude in his space without care.
During the War, it had continued to ring true.
Like the time they were forced to use a precious gift as an antidote for Feng Xing or when Xie Lian had consoled him after a lost battle where Mu Qing had sent fifteen-years-old to their death.
It was hard to be slapped with a truth you’ve never considered to even entertain.
Worse when Mu Qing knew that neither he nor Feng Xing had considered Xie Lian a friend back then, perhaps not even now.
Although, in their defense, it was just not something they could do being who they were:
Feng Xing, His Highness’ Guard Dog.
Mu Qing, His Highness’ Hunting Hound.
Shield and Sword.
Meant to ease Xie Lian’s existence in any way they could; bound to die for him if needed in Feng Xing’s case. And in Mu Qing’s, bound to be the stepping stone that would help his Highness soar without having to step in the mud.
His time to reminisce was over in a blink as Bai Wuxiang launched himself against His Highness with a guttural growl, having kicked Crimson Rain out of the way.
Feng Xing released a purifying arrow, the White-Clothed Calamity endures like it’s a mosquito’s bite. He tooks Xie Lian’s head between his awful hands and smashes it against the wall.
Mu Qing is rushing forward without thinking.
I’ll create an opening, Mu Qing told Feng Xing with dread, Don’t waste it.
Don’t you dare! Feng Xing tried, but Mu Qing cut the communication array, unwilling to lose time arguing when this was their best shot.
In recent years, General Xuan Zhen has been renowned for his speed. It’s rumored that he dances with lighting and when he’s facing evil you can hear the thunder roaring as he strikes.
Mu Qing puts everything he has in his speed, pushing Xie Lian away with a well placed kick, sending the injured God into the waiting arms of Crimson Rain. Then takes advantage of Bai Wuxian’s surprise at the events to nick him two times.
Bai Wuxian is over him, his sword pushing down hard on Zhanmadao and making Mu Qing’s arms tremble with the effort it takes to parry. Hua Cheng is over them and his fierce attacks give Mu Qing a momentary breather, he hears Feng Xing releasing arrows that miss their mark by millimetres.
Then, Hua Cheng is gone from his side and Mu Qing faces the White-Clothed Calamity alone.
He manages to nick him a third time, this right on his side, before Bai Wuxiang’s power overwhelms him. The beast cuts him from side to side, Mu Qing tastes blood and loses his grip in Zhanmadao.
Hands instinctively moving to try and keep his internal organs in place.
Mu Qing falls.
He’s cold.
His robes are drenched in blood and the pain is so strong the tears fall before he can stop them. He whines, like the pathetic thing he is. Closing his eyes and wishing for his mother’s comfort.
It’s not the first time he’s been disemboweled— A wrath had gotten that honor during the first third decades of his as a God, he’s sure, but can't really remember exactly when it was.
But back then his spiritual energy was enough for him to put his guts inside, keep them there, and get help from the Heavens. He had healed alright, leaving a very faint scar in the end.
This is not like that, this will cost him his life.
But that’s fine.
Feng Xing howls with grief and there’s the sound of an arrow being freed. Then, Bai Wuxiang screams. Mu Qing smells burned flesh and forces his eyes open.
Bai Wuxian’s disgusting face is contorted in pain. His robes are charred and his now visible skin is marred with heavy burns, he’s on his knees and bleeding, and the image is enough to bring a smile to Mu Qing’s face.
“You— Ungrateful bitch!” Bai Wuxiang roars.
The cursed shackle on his wrist breaks and Mu Qing’s spiritual energy comes flaring, he instinctively moves it to his injury, trying to close it.
He’s so focused on trying to keep himself alive that he misses when Bai Wuxiang moves. In less than a blink, Jun Wu has him by the neck, their faces are so close that any less space would end up in a kiss.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” The beast told him, shaking him like an unruly puppy.
There’s an awful crack.
Mu Qing’s nerves caught fire. He tried to scream, yet only a garbled sound left his lips. His limbs are out of his control, contorting and twitching. He thinks he may have wet himself, as his body tried to make sense of what was happening, of having lost connection with his brain.
Mu Qing’s head is tilted towards Xie Lian when he hits the ground.
There’s nothing but pure horror in his prince’s face.
Perhaps someone screams his name.
He doesn’t know for sure, nor does he care.
Everything is on fire, he’s burning . Fire licks at him from the inside and every second that passes just wants to make it end, but his spiritual energy is still trying to keep him alive, chasing the fire and fanning it into an inferno.
He’s a God and they don’t die as easily as mortals.
The agony will last for way too long, just as Bai Wuxiang surely intended.
Mu Qing thinks he’s being laughed at.
The cruelty of it is somewhat familiar— A rich young master pulling wings from insects, beating cats and dogs with stones, using the servants as entertainment until they wished to die.
Mu Qing wished it would stop.
Mu Qing wished all of it would stop.
Being nothing would surely be much better than this, he’s sure. But it doesn’t come. The darkness doesn’t calm the fire, if anything it makes it worse. He can no longer see Xie Lian.
Mu Qing, selfishly, wished he could.
He wished he could tell his prince he’s sorry. That he shouldn’t be sad for him, that dying fighting by his side was an honor. That he missed their time in XianLe and wished they could’ve been friends since the beginning.
(He wished that he and Feng Xing had been able to marry and His Highness was there to congratulate them.)
And then, Mu Qing is no more.
The fire finally stopped.