35 The Hidden Sec (1/2)

In his dream, Yuan Xuelan's hand had gone numb clutching a sword that buzzed and burned in his grips. He was shaking, an unspeakable emotion welling within. But Yuan Xuelan couldn't understand it, couldn't even understand the scene born out the depth of his imagination. Just what was this place?

Among the pile of corpses, he spotted a figure in the distance. A man, hunched, leaned against a spear that skewered a soldier, a demon? at his feet. His armor was dyed in grime and blood, as was his face, his hair, his sword, and his hands. He did not look like a cultivator, and instead, had the appearance of a general, a man of war. Yuan Xuelan quickened his pace. He wanted to yell for this soldier to look at him and ask if he was okay. But the Yuan Xuelan in his dreams had other ideas.

He reached for that veil of hair and yanked it back, forcing Liu Sumeng to stumble, to gasp. The Ivory Sword Saint's blade clattered on the ground. This terrible Yuan Xuelan was full of fury and had an uncontrollable storm for a heart. He shouted, ”You fucking worthless piece of shit!” and threw Liu Sumeng to the ground.

Liu Sumeng, ever infuriating, said nothing and did nothing, only kneeling there with his head lowered and loose hair fallen in front of his face. ”I fucking hate you!” he repeated, voice scraping against his throat as he kicked Liu Sumeng down. Then kicked him again and again.

Liu Sumeng coughed, wet, and croaked as he grasped at Yuan Xuelan's boots, ”Stop. Xuelan.” His face, tired and weak, could barely lift off the filthy ground. Mud stuck to his cheek along with blood. There were dark circles under his eyes, red.

Yuan Xuelan thought he was going to be sick, but the him in his dreams did not care. This Xuelan, older, bigger and even more angry and wild than he would ever imagine himself, knelt down next to Liu Sumeng. With a fistful of hair, he dragged the Ivory Sword Saint up. His eyes traced the lines of clenched teeth and furrowed brows and the tears that Liu Sumeng refused to let fall. ”Stop? Stop what? I thought you were a masochist. So fast to rush forth to your demise. So eager to part with me,” he seethed, spitting on Liu Sumeng's face. ”Worthless.”

When he let go, Liu Sumeng fell like a puppet with strings cut, body thudding on the ground. The older Yuan Xuelan sneered, while the younger, who was but a ghostly specter forced to watch, wanted nothing but for this dream to end. Heavens! Why won't it end!?

Yuan Xuelan rose to his feet and spat as if the one beneath him was nothing but a pile of trash. He turned around, marching away in brisk steps. Only to stop when he realized that no one was following. He looked over his shoulder, Liu Sumeng's body was still slumped upon the ground. ”Get up, fool.”

It took a moment before Liu Sumeng heaved himself up on shaking limbs, his breath ragged just from standing. He stumbled and didn't even pick up his sword as he stepped forth. The wounds on his shoulder, his thigh, and his stomach were looking ugly; red soaking through his clothes and coated his armor. Beneath a layer of dirt and dried blood, his face was pale. Liu Sumeng tripped and fell, coughed, and stood again. He waddled like a dog, dying and desperate.

And only when he stood before Yuan Xuelan he faltered, eyes sunken and lips gray. ”Xuelan,” a scratchy voice broke through, as though a prayer.

He was like a corpse and Yuan Xuelan hated looking at him, ”Ugly,” he hissed. But still held his arms out to support Liu Sumeng when he swayed. ”I hate you,” he said again, softer. Liu Sumeng had lost too much blood and did not look like he was going to stay conscious for much longer. He was no better than a man at death's door. And when he fell against Yuan Xuelan's body, Yuan Xuelan whispered against his ear, ”I hate seeing you like this.” A sigh. When he looked Liu Sumeng, who had eyes closed and shallow breaths, he was overcome with an overwhelming urge to destroy him, to embrace him, to spoil him, to insult him, to possess him. He called, ”Sumeng.”

His Sumeng didn't answer, even when he wrapped his arms around him, gentle.

”Sumeng…?”

And he felt childish, not sane.

In the morning, Liu Sumeng felt a little sweaty with his arms wrapped around something that radiated too much heat. But he was comfortable and cuddled with it more, squeezing like he would a cute cat or dog. The cat or dog grumbled in protest and elbowed him in the gut, which didn't hurt nearly as much as his injured back scraping against the wall.

He winced and opened his eyes, squinting against the stray rays of light that knifed into the cabin. A scowling visage greeted him, so close that Liu Sumeng could feel Yuan Xuelan's breath on his face.

”Hello,” he said stupidly.

At first, Yuan Xuelan said nothing and only stayed there, frozen and tense in Liu Sumeng's arms. Until he was shoved away, Liu Sumeng's back hit the wall with a thud, a light hiss escaped his teeth.

”Let's not waste time,” the younger said as he rose to his feet. There was a softness to his voice that was almost misplaced and Liu Sumeng gulped, reminded of a young man who stared off into space with wandering thoughts and emotions that swayed like a turbulent sea.

Yuan Xuelan was quick to go outside, while Liu Sumeng took an extra moment to fix his hair and creases in his clothes. The air was no longer biting, but still cold. A blanket of snow was thick on the ground, hugging their feet with every step. ”Sorry,” was the first thing that came out of the Ivory Sword Saint's mouth when he stepped out of the cabin.

The younger cultivator's mood was oddly tense, he scowled and wouldn't meet Liu Sumeng's eyes, ”Can you stop that already? I don't want to hear sorry from you anymore.”

But what else could he say, ”I…”

”No, it's fine. No more sorry's from you, Sumeng.” Even the way he spoke, the calmness and form of address, were reminiscent of an older Xuelan.

Yet, when Yuan Xuelan looked up there was that boyish pout and wide innocent eyes. Liu Sumeng let out a sigh of relief as he nodded obediently, ”Ok.”

”You say that now, but I know you'll forget about it soon later.”

”I promise.”

Yuan Xuelan didn't believe him. ”Yeah, whatever.”