46 Dont you know about personal space!? (2/2)

A while back at the Hidden Mist Manor, a man clad in a full gown of black had sneaked into Liu Sumeng and Yuan Xuelan's conjoined room. He watched the two occupants flee in a moment of heated passion. The Organ Eating Dagger was left on the table and for a moment he thought about taking the blade for himself and adding it to his collection of deadly and cursed blades. He cut his fingertip and traced the lines of one of the bulges that littered the hilt. The bulge blinked open. An ugly eyeball swerved and stared up at him. All the other bumps opened up as well. The eyes vibrated and shook. When he removed his finger they all squeezed shut at the same time.

How peculiar. He decided to leave the dagger for now. Now that it was imprinted with his blood, he would be able to control the thing even from afar. Pleased, the black-robed man made himself scarce as footsteps approached.

...

The conjoined room that once offered a feeling of comfort was now the home of thick brewing tension. Liu Sumeng took the wretched dagger off the table and stowed it away in his interspatial ring. Yuan Xuelan didn't spare him a single glance.

They were both quick to hide under the cover of blankets but neither found comfort in sleep.

Little did they know, they dreamed of the very same thing.

In their dreams, they were at this very same Hidden Mist Manor. Yuan Xuelan was sitting on the steps, looking out at the splintered gate that hung open, creaking on its hinges. There was blood around them and blood and Yuan Xuelan's hands. The corpses were clad in purple and silver. Some of the bodies were rotting with wilted skin and thinning hair. They had to have been dead for some time already. Yuan Xuelan was grinning up at a waxing moon and Liu Sumeng stood quietly at his side.

”I feel like I've done something terrible,” Yuan Xuelan gave a long hollow laugh.

The Liu Sumeng in the dream was a stoic and cold person who didn't privy any secret smiles or tender meanings behind blunt words. ”Stop worrying about it.”

Yuan Xuelan continued to look at the moon, longing for something mysterious and unnameable. ”Sumeng, I feel as though there's…there's a bug within of me that wants to crawl out of my stomach,” he complained. His unraveling mental state was ugly and bare but the Liu Sumeng at that time didn't seem to care.

”Don't waste time. Let's go home.”

But even as Liu Sumeng descended the steps and headed towards the open gate, Yuan Xuelan didn't follow. He stopped and gazed back at the younger cultivator with a countenance that spoke of irritation. Yuan Xuelan was already taller than him but still have a more boyish visage, a young man who had yet to grow into full maturity.

”I'm tired so you should carry me back,” he smirked.

Liu Sumeng was not impressed, ”No.”

”Sumeng. Please?” He laughed as he whined as if the sound of his own voice amused him.

Although Liu Sumeng did not seem pleased, for the first time in the entire dream a small flicker of pity flashed across his eyes. He walked back towards Yuan Xuelan and held out his hand. ”Let's go.”

Yuan Xuelan stared at the outstretched hand and then stared at the man behind it. He continued to sit there, purposely testing the Ivory Sword Saint's patience. ”Carry me,” he demanded.

Silence stretched between them. Yuan Xuelan continued to smirk and Liu Sumeng continued to glare. Liu Sumeng moved first. For a moment Yuan Xuelan thought he'd won but the Ivory Sword Saint swooped down instead and swept him up in his arms. Like a maiden.

Yuan Xuelan roared in laughter, ”Not like this, idiot! Not like this! Put me down!” He kicked out playfully but still wrapped his arms around Liu Sumeng's neck.

”Be quiet. I'm carrying you.” It was just the two of them that were left in the desolate ruins of the Hidden Mist Manor. The entire place was as still as a grave. Though, at that point, it was a grave.

And the two dreamers who watched this scene could not have more different sentiments. For Liu Sumeng, it was bitter memory of a time he wished he was less cold and more attentive and caring. It was a time in his previous like that went by like a cursed blur, where he marched into battle without a single clear thought in his mind.

And to Yuan Xuelan, this was nothing more than an odd conjuring of his mind, a twisted fantasy where both Peng Zhugen and Peng Jipei were dead and Liu Sumeng was a little playful but mostly cold. Yuan Xuelan couldn't understand the insanity that danced in this dream version of him, who has his tendons and nerves wound up tight. But he feared to become like him. Feared to become a violent beast trapped in his own suffering and emotions. Feared to become unrecognizably hating and hateful. Just what would Chen Anyue even think of this monster?

But Yuan Xuelan, in his tender youth, already understood that that monster in his dreams was undoubtedly him.