Legend of Fu Yao

It was Zhan Beiye’s hand.

Protecting her forehead, he pulled her and Ji Yu away from the huge rock. Throughout, Zhan Beiye was calm and collected and did not spare a glance at the huge rock. He just silently embraced Meng Fuyao.

There was no other meaning to this embrace. It was, in its purest sense, a hug to console her. His embrace was broad and warm. His scent could be characterized by the smoke, bloody and metallic smell that had been accumulated throughout the journey. But more so, it was the light undertones of his musky fragrance; like the pine trees in a snowy day, giving off a comfortable and refreshing aroma that would allow one to feel the resolution and power within him.

Meng Fuyao leaned on his shoulder, allowing herself this one moment of weakness. The embrace had no regards for romantic feelings—it was an act of reminiscence for those who had sacrificed.

Ji Yu sat down quietly as he let his subordinates bandage what was left of his severed arm, staring quietly at the forever closed stone wall. Every single one here was, and still is, his closest brothers. They were brothers he swore to go through thick and thin with, through life and death with. Especially San Er. He was his fellow-townsman, his childhood friend. He had brought San Er out of their hometown to enter the Black Wind Horses that would be their glory. They had promised to make the Black Wind Horses’ name resound across the continents, yet, he could not do anything but abandon them.

When San Er turned around to push Meng Fuyao away, he could have stopped him. Yet, he did not.

Between Meng Fuyao and San Er, he chose Meng Fuyao.

Because that was someone the Prince loved.

The prince had a sad life with no one by his side. For so many years, he had been praying for the prince to meet someone that could bring him warmth, and the prince finally did. It was a girl that was bright and vibrant, glistening beautifully the way pearls and jade did. She was the prince’s saving grace and the one he yearned for.

‘San Er… please forgive my… my choice.’

After a very long time, Zhan Beiye slowly let go of his embrace of Meng Fuyao. Ji Yu turned around, putting his troubles at the back of his mind. After all, the journey had to go on.

The group continued their journey in silence. There were no longer any traps or mechanisms in the tombs, yet the walls were filled with very eerie mural paintings. The mural paintings gradually faded away as they walked along the walls with their flame.

“They’ve oxidized,” mumbled Meng Fuyao.

From the corner of her eyes, she glanced at one of the mural paintings, contemplating over the oddity she had just witnessed. One painting, she felt, was a completely different style from the rest of the paintings, though she failed to take a closer look.

The passageway was made of bricks, forming a dome-shaped ceiling. On the two sides, there were two courtyards, and each courtyard had niches that did not worship statues of God, but rather, two golden cups. Under the cups, there were words inscribed.

Zhan Beiye went forward and read the words out loud, “With my holy water, worship my soul for misfortune will plague those who do not drink.”

Stunned, Meng Fuyao retorted, “Asking us to drink… that? Does he treat us like pigs? How can anything from the tomb be drunk? Even if it resembled the nectar of the Gods, once any one of us drinks it, we will definitely become ghosts.”

She moved forward to take a closer look at what was in the golden cup and almost vomited. What the golden cup contained was a black gooey substance that had some sort of a resemblance to wine. It gave off a slightly fishy stench with hints of alcohol undertones. At the bottom of the cup was a small bundle of white thing that curved in, like an egg that was not yet fertilized.

“I would be a pig to drink this sh*t!” Meng Fuyao lifted her leg to kick the cup and said, “Just staring at it makes me feel disgusted.”

Suddenly, a sleepy head popped up, and Meng Fuyao stared at the frizzled Lord Yuan Bao. Then, she commented, “You are actually awake?”

Lord Yuan Bao ignored her comment and stared straight at the golden cup with a creepy gaze. Watching him, Meng Fuyao mumbled as goosebumps formed, “Rat, by any chance are you possessed…?”

Lord Yuan Bao started to chitter and chatter loudly, pointing to the cup and the wine, and then Meng Fuyao’s mouth, after which he mimicked the way one would drink wine.

Meng Fuyao finally got what Lord Yuan Bao was trying to say. With her jaw dropping, she carefully asked, “You… you are asking us to drink… that?”

Lord Yuan Bao nodded his head vigorously.

“Brother,” Meng Fuyao snatched it up to a corner to have a quiet, serious discussion with the guinea pig. “Are you dumb from sleeping too much? This is wine from the tomb! Regardless, it is not something we can put into our mouths… it has long past its expiry date…”

Lord Yuan Bao, “Chir! Chir!”

“Let me tell you a story. In my past life, there were a few tomb raiders that went to excavate a tomb. In front of the tomb, there was a lot of fragrant and aromatic wine, so the tomb raiders gave in to the temptation and drank it. When they left the tomb, the moment the sun hit their skin, they turned into ashes immediately…”

Lord Yuan Bao continued, “Chir! Chir!”

“Brother… that thing really cannot be consumed…”

Lord Yuan Bao grabbed the corner of her sleeve and slapped her.

“Fine…” Meng Fuyao grudgingly rubbed the cheek that had just been slapped, went back and announced resignedly, “The rat told us to drink.”

Zhen Beiye raised his eyebrows and agreed without much hesitation.

Meng Fuyao pouted and reached for the golden cup. Almost immediately, a couple of other hands stretched out in unison. But no one was as quick as Zhan Beiye. He took over the golden cup and said with much authority, “I’ll go first.”

He closed his eyes and gulped down the wine quickly. Everyone stared at him nervously.

Zhan Beiye wiped the corners of his mouth and laughed. “Not bad, not as terrible tasting as I would imagine.”

After a while, seeing that Zhan Beiye was still as fit as a fiddle, everyone else took turns to consume the wine, except for one soldier. The soldier frowned and said, “Prince, Lady Meng, I cannot drink this.”

Meng Fuyao wanted to convince him but with a bitter smile that young man explained, ” I was once an alcoholic, and I would do nothing but indulge in alcohol all day. We depended on the meager income that my wife would get from selling her needlework. She was a virtuous wife who never once blamed me. But one winter, she went out to sell her needlework in the heavy snow and fell into an ice cave on the way back… she was one month pregnant then.” Tears welled up in his eyes and words choked up in his throat.

Meng Fuyao stayed silent as the young man sniffed and looked up. He continued, ” I swore in front of her grave that in this lifetime, I would never drink another drop of alcohol. Otherwise, I will be subjected to heavenly punishment.”

Meng Fuyao looked at him, and then once again she dragged Lord Yuan Bao to a corner and asked, “If he doesn’t drink, will he die?”

She decided that if he would, she would knock this young lad unconscious and force it down his throat. That way, it would not be count as him breaking his promise.

Lord Yuan Bao hesitated, a little confused by Meng Fuyao’s question. It didn’t seem like he would die if he didn’t drink but… Lord Yuan Bao shook his head and after a while, nodded.

Meng Fuyao glared at it, hesitating, and then she turned around upon hearing a cry of alarm.

She quickly turned around to see that the door to the tomb had suddenly opened.

What lied beyond the darkness displayed to them was unknown.

Meng Fuyao gasped in surprised and asked, “Why did the door suddenly open?”

Zhan Beiye thought about it as he watched the cup being placed back into its original position. He came to a conclusion and explained, “The position below the cup is spring-loaded, and it is linked to the door. So when we finished the wine, the change in mass of the cup triggered the door to open.”

Meng Fuyao stared at the cup of wine. The designer of this tomb was definitely a professional when it came to mind games. Right from the entrance, every trap made use of a human’s desire to protect oneself. From the corpse at the entrance to the chain mechanism and this very moment, where the door would never open if the tomb raiders refused to drink the wine, even if they made it here.

As for those that could enter, daring to drink the wine, they were most likely the important figures who held the secrets of the Gun Tribe. This was a design that would protect the secrets of the tomb.

But of course, no matter how of a genius a person was, one could not predict, much less include in their plans, the existence of such intrepid and bizarre being — Lord Yuan Bao, and the coincidence that such a being would enter the tomb.

When the door opened, Zhan Beiye stopped the soldiers that wanted to scout out potential danger and went ahead himself with a sword in his hand.

On the other hand, Meng Fuyao insisted on walking at the back and made Ji Yu and the rest of the soldiers walk in the middle.

Though the passageway was short, the door was really wide. When Meng Fuyao passed by the door, she paid special attention to it and realized that the door had no hinges. It was a whole rock that was a meter thick. Even with modern technology, there was no guarantee that they would have been able to blow the door apart.

Just as she got past the door, her vision went black.

Ji Yu’s back was no longer visible.

Impenetrable darkness shrouded her completely, like the demons of darkness as they gathered and dispersed as they please. Those demons shape-shifted into twisted objects that elicited fear like the Double-Headed snake, the gigantic flesh-eating ants, the poisonous vines, or the corpse of the little girl… it was like hell on earth where the guards of hell had opened the cursed doors to let out countless of vengeful spirits. Or perhaps, it was the Gods who disrupted the order of the world, taking back all hope and leaving nothing but demons to rule and trample over the world.

Meng Fuyao opened her eyes and bellowed, “Disappear!” She attacked the fog and the fog dispersed before her eyes, only to gather together once more. This time, the fog was thick and white like milk foam, and amidst the fog, one could vaguely make out a familiar figure.

The soldier that died by the pond, the corpse that hung upside down on the poisonous vines, Wang Hu, who had committed suicide in the swamp, Hua Zi that had been burned alive in swarms of flesh-eating ants, the San Er who had pushed Meng Fuyao out only to be trapped in eternal darkness and hopelessness all alone… those who had died in this journey now appeared in front of Meng Fuyao’s eyes.

Blood gushed out of them as their meat hang precariously. Their organs were falling out as they stumbled slowly, making their way towards Meng Fuyao. Right in front was Hua Zi, the young man that was burned alive, leaving nothing but a skeleton. He reached out his hands that were scorched by the fire, with his bones in full view, towards Meng Fuyao.

“It’s so cold down there… where… where are my clothes?” he asked.

Meng Fuyao gasped for air.

Giddy spells hit her like waves, washing away her conscious and reason. Her heartstrings were tugged so tightly that she could physically feel a sharp pain in her heart. The young man in front of her was so real. He was burnt to the point where his features were unrecognizable, yet, she could still make up an eerie and scornful smile on his face. His face was so close, so authentic, so real to the point where she could smell the burnt and bloody stench emanating off his flesh.

Calmly, he spat out the words, “Meng Fuyao, when you were about to sacrifice yourself for the prince, you saw my expression, didn’t you? Somewhere in your heart, you were waiting for me to stop you, weren’t you? Otherwise, with your abilities, there was no way I could have stopped you. Did you feel that just because we are soldiers that we are disposable? That we should sacrifice ourselves for you?”