Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cell is cold and a little damp.

“...”

The ground, his clothes, the air… Little has changed since the day Jingyuan came to visit him. Everything is the same, the same, the same… It is all slowly driving him insane.

When would his punishment come? When would this all end? Is this constant torment part of his punishment as well?

Danfeng tries to recall what his punishment is even supposed to be. His mind draws blank, only remembering some of his tormentors mentioning something about how forced reincarnation would be the lightest he would get off with if the Ten Lords Commission decided to show him leniency. Is that what Jingyuan meant about not letting him suffer any longer then? It would make sense given the rumours of how cruel some of their punishments can get and given the weight of his crime.

He looks at the wall again. Three days. It has been three days since Jingyuan came to visit him.

Three days…

No, four? Five?

“...”

What does it matter anyway? Counting the days wouldn't help his situation. There is nothing he can do to change his fate. Everything rests in Jingyuan’s hands now.

“...”

Danfeng tries to ease the throbbing pain of his right wrist, rubbing awkwardly around the thick shackle covering it. His hand doesn't quite move as he wills it to, each little shift making it feel like his bones are grinding against something wrong. It is likely dislocated, or broken if he is unlucky. The men who came by yesterday did not take too kindly to his defiance.

Normally, an injury like this would be of little consequence to him. A mere flick of his hand could easily heal wounds graver than this with his command over water. He still remembers the time Jingyuan and Yingxing were arguing over something and ended up rolling down some stairs together. Healing their broken bones after that spectacle had been an interesting experience, to say the least.

The pain in his wrist fades somewhat but lingers. Danfeng looks down at it in distaste. He really has been spoiled by his power to be bothered by such a small thing now.

He sighs and tries to think about something other than the constant pain.

Punishment, right. What would being killed as a punishment mean for him?

Reincarnation would mean he is to be born anew. He would be absolved of all his crimes in this life, leaving all his memories and dreams behind. Everything would be swept away like some half forgotten dream, a flickering candle snuffed out by a gust of wind. No more Cloud Quintet, no more Yinyue Jun, no more Yingxing, no more Jingyuan…

It’s almost too good to be true. Letting him go just like that? Unlikely, given the hatred he knows certain factions hold towards him. And that is not even factoring in the opportunistic people that are surely eyeing him like easy prey.

A frustrated sound leaves his lips. The chains around him rattle as he buries his face into his hands.

“Jingyuan… Just what are you planning?”

He better not have done something foolish just to try and help a doomed man like him.

It turns out, he gets his answer sooner than expected.

The heavy prison doors groan as they are pushed open causing Danfeng to sit up at once. Several footsteps echo ominously down the narrow hallways. He estimates at least five people this time and yet there is no chatter among them.

His heart sinks. Either this is a large group seeking to use him and laugh at his sorry state, or there is a significant event about to happen. Given their lack of conversation and relative silence, Danfeng is not confident in the first possibility.

His worst fears are confirmed when the group shows themselves. 

“Your punishment is about to be decided on,” the only lady in the group announces with a look of disinterest on her face. “Prepare him for the trial.”

Prepare him?

Danfeng sits up straighter at once, watching wearily as one of them unlocks the door to his cell. Three of them enter, leaving only the woman and another man standing outside. From the way they are dressed, he can guess that the two of them are of higher rank while the three who are approaching him now must be their lackeys sent to do the dirty work.

“What do you think you are doing?”

His tail lashes out sharply at them. A damned prisoner he might be, but taken advantage of he would not.

They ignore his question. One of them grabs onto his tail and tugs on it harshly, throwing Danfeng off balance. He tries his best to fight back even as his body protests fiercely, struggling against the hands that hold him down. His hair is yanked on, limbs pinned down to his sides. Danfeng snarls, kicking one of them in the stomach. The man grunts but otherwise remains unmoving much to his dismay.

“Do not attempt to resist.”

What kind of ridiculous demand is that? Even a child would know that if they planned to give him a fair trial, the least they could do is to allow him to get up and walk on his own. This violence is clearly just another way to hurt him for no real reason.

Panic rises in his chest as they eventually win over him through sheer numbers. Danfeng finds himself pushed to the ground, face pressed to the cold stone and hands restrained behind his back. His clothes are torn off his body, sending a shock of icy cold dread through him.

Never before had any of the other groups shown such blatant disregard for the rules, as flimsy as they are, to leave such obvious evidence of their deeds behind. Danfeng thrashes harder, nearly sending one of his assailants flying. The clinking of his chains becomes near deafening in the otherwise silent prison.

A sudden bout of agony radiating from his tail makes him falter momentarily, allowing the men the chance to hold him down for good this time. By the time Danfeng regains his senses, his hair is being pushed aside, revealing the vulnerable area of his neck. His limbs twitch helplessly as he lies on his back, face still being forced to the side. Despite the poor lighting of the prison, he can still make out the man and woman standing out there with open disregard on their faces. The sight makes his blood boil. Danfeng bares his teeth even as a hand closes warningly around his tail again.

From the way it hurts to even move, the inner workings of the limb shifting unnaturally when he tries to draw it closer to himself, Danfeng figures one of them must have broken his bones somehow. The only thing he has yet to figure out is what exactly they are planning to do. They have yet to hurt him apart from his tail and even that was to keep him from struggling rather than anything else. If they wanted to fuck him, what is the point of dragging out this charade any longer? Surely they were not planning to lube him up and stretch him open first.

Cool metal touches his throat. Danfeng’s mind grinds to a halt.

“I will only repeat myself one more time, do not attempt to resist.”

What a joke. ‘Preparation’ for a trial? The intention of the sharp blade resting on his neck is obvious. What trial needed their accused to be killed before they could be judged? Given the many hands on him and the cold apathy of the men standing over him, it is a miracle he manages to reign in his temper enough to form an eloquent response.

“Are you taking me for an imbecile?” Danfeng sneers at the woman. “You speak of a trial when you intend to kill me here. Are the people of the Xianzhou Alliance really that deranged that only the sight of my lifeless body being paraded around will satisfy them?”

“You are mistaken. We have no intention of killing you here.”

“Then—”

“Criminal Danfeng.” The use of his name shocks him enough to give up on his protest. He thought it had already been stricken from the records for good, a shameful mark on their history and practically a curse to say out loud. “Such preparations are necessary for you to stand trial alongside the other criminal. Any disruptions here will potentially affect the overall outcome of things in a way most unfavourable for you.”

 “.”

The words fly over his head, refusing to register for a moment. But when they finally do, it feels like his heart is about to tear itself out of his chest from how fast it beats, his eyes widening as a crushing sense of doom makes his breath catch.

Other criminal?

“Wait!” he shouts. “Who is the other criminal?”

It can't be.

No, no. After all their hard work to save him, as badly as it all turned out, they couldn't have possibly caught Yingxing too!

The woman hesitates, her eyes looking searchingly at the man beside her for guidance. 

“There is no need to tell him anything,” he says. “In case you have forgotten, you are no longer a high elder of the Vidyadhara. Your words hold no weight here.”

“Ridiculous—”

“However, I will suggest that you hold still and allow us to do what must be done.” His expression is one of genial pleasantness, something that infuriates Danfeng to no end given the situation. “You wouldn't want to ruin your beloved general’s plan now, would you?”

What?

“Oh, no need to be so surprised.” He has the audacity to laugh. “I won't try to fool you by saying he arranged for you to be muted, but I will say that if you don't go along with our demands now, things won't end up nicely for him.”

Revelation after revelation keeps sending his mind into a whirling mess. It is too much information to process at once. Danfeng stares blankly at the smiling man looking down at him, with the woman next to him almost seeming to hold a pitying look in her eyes.

“Mute…” he says, still not quite believing what he hears. “You wish to, remove my voice…”

“We do not ‘wish to’ remove your voice.” The man looks amused. “We will remove your voice.”

“...”

The thin, pointed blade to his neck. Holding him down securely. Removing his clothes and holding his hair aside for a good view of his neck. It all starts to make sense now, but at the same time, Danfeng finds himself having more questions than answers.

“Why?” Danfeng struggles to understand everything. “What good will that do?”

“Are those the last words you, wish to say?” He chuckles at his pathetic attempt at a joke, completely disregarding the atmosphere of the situation and the fact that no one else laughs. “I would have thought that saying some last tearful goodbyes to your beloved general would be a priority, but I suppose I couldn't begin to comprehend the thoughts of a traitor like you.”

Jingyuan. Jingyuan. That's right, he said he would do something, something…

…

Is this the result of all his planning and trust then…?

“Enough dallying, we’ve wasted enough time already. Get to it.”

Anger mixed with frustration simmers just below his skin. Just what did Jingyuan agree to for something like this to happen? The slight tinge of betrayal on his tongue tastes bitter, refusing to leave no matter how Danfeng tries to will it away. There is no way Jingyuan could have foreseen this. He would never let them hurt him so blatantly like this, all the more after this promise all those days ago. There must be a mistake. There must be an explanation. Jingyuan would never hurt him like this. He would never.

His body sags as he stops struggling. The anger evaporates. Hushed whispering breaks out around him. The knife digs into his skin and draws blood.

What choice does he have left? The man doesn't seem to be lying. Danfeng knows little to nothing about the situation. All he can do now is put his faith in Jingyuan, begging the Aeons above that he knows what he is doing.

There is no way out.

But despite his resignation, despite all the mental preparation he does, no matter how he tries to stay still, his body still trembles minutely under their hold.

“So, final words?”

Danfeng stares up at the man taunting him.

“Curses to you and your next five generations to come.”

The man smiles but doesn't respond.

And then, Danfeng only knows pain.

The next time Danfeng is fully conscious again, he is nearly blinded by brightness.

Having long gotten used to the dim lighting of the prison, this sudden influx of light from leaving it is almost too much for him to process. He blinks his eyes blearily, not quite remembering how he had passed out in the first place. The world is swaying nauseatingly, his feet hurting from being dragged across the ground. Someone is lugging him off to somewhere by the arms, that much is clear.

The next thing to make itself known is his neck. It flares in agony, nearly making Danfeng cry out. What stops him from doing so is more pain and a distinct sense of wrongness, the muscles of his neck cramping up and twisting unnaturally as he makes an ugly choking noise instead. Hot blood drips down his neck and chest, dribbling on the floor. He can taste it on his tongue, feel it slide down his throat.

Ah, he remembers now. They cut him open to silence him. Then they healed him, partially, to ensure he wouldn't bleed out before they could use him for whatever nefarious plan they have in store.

He remembers the process all too clearly in his mind, at least before his memories cut off at a certain point where he most likely passed out. They had offered him no pain relief as expected, plunging their blades right into his neck on command. He still remembers the initial few cuts, his neck screaming in agony as they cut through muscle and flesh, sending blood spurting messily everywhere. From how carelessly they tore into him, they probably didn't even have any idea of what they were doing, slicing through tissue blindly until they finally achieved what they wanted - mutilating his vocal cords beyond use. The only thing that kept him from thrashing too wildly was the thinly veiled threat against Jingyuan and fear of making the situation even worse.

Gradually, his other senses return to him. There is a smattering of chatter breaking out around him. The heavy scent of incense fills the air. He blinks his eyes, trying to clear his vision to get a better look around himself only to find himself falling.

Danfeng barely has time to shoot his hands out and break his fall. He fails, jaw clicking harshly against the ground as the burst of pain makes him black out for a moment. The people around him laugh and jeer. Danfeng merely grits his teeth and tries to reorientate himself.

Blinking his eyes furiously, the world eventually comes into focus. The room he is in is one he is not familiar with. What looks like a short flight of stairs leads up to a raised platform with a long wooden table lined with ten chairs in front of him. Each houses a single person and some are looking at him while the rest don’t even seem to perceive his arrival. Danfeng can tell from their clothes and position in the hall that they are probably the ten judges from the Ten Lords Commission, the men that would be deciding his fate today.

Somehow, Danfeng doesn't feel too optimistic about things.

Before he can do anything else, someone is grabbing him by the arm and forcing him into a kneeling position. Danfeng doesn't resist, knowing better than to do so at this point. The seals and shackles on him are still in place, making any attempt at escape nothing but a wistful fantasy.

Blood and saliva start to pool in his mouth. Danfeng lets it dribble messily down his chin, the alternative being too painful to even consider. Adrenaline and fury back when he was still in the Shackling Prison allowed him to temporarily forget his state of nakedness. But now that he only has the pain of his neck to distract him, Danfeng suddenly feels so small and vulnerable under the watchful eyes of the guards surrounding him. He curls his tail over his lap and waist, allowing his long hair to fall over himself in a pathetic attempt to preserve what is left of his modesty.

That is how he passes the next few minutes, shoulders drawn inwards as he tries his best to remain unaffected, something that is all too difficult when he is acutely aware of the sizable crowd gathered at the sides of the courtroom to gawk at the spectacle. His only saving grace is how the men guarding him simply stand around him silently, none bothering him despite how easy it would be to do so. Danfeng takes the time to familiarise himself with their faces, absently wondering what good it would do him. The only one he recognises is the man who was giving out instructions at his cell standing a way off from the rest of his guards. Now with adequate lighting, Danfeng realises for the first time that the man is wearing spectacles and official robes of high quality. His position within the Ten Lords Commissions is unclear, but it shouldn't be too low.

As if sensing Danfeng’s gaze on him, the bespectacled man turns to face him, smiling as he gives him a little nod.

“...”

If only he still had his powers or could speak, that man wouldn't find himself smiling for long.

Settling with a shooting him look of disgust instead, Danfeng finds his eyes wandering once more soon after. He scans the fidgeting crowd, finding nothing but strangers. It makes him wonder why they are allowed to be here, or why they even decided to come in the first place.

The judges continue to lounge high up in their seats, sharing a pot of tea between them. The pillars that hold up the ceiling are painted a garish orange and etched with coiling dragons. Hanging behind the platform is a plaque that reads:

The essence of governing is to have a cleansed heart

The strategy of life is to follow upright ways^[1]

Oh, what irony. What sick, disgusting irony.

Danfeng scoffs, ignoring the thrumming pain of his throat as he averts his eyes, unable to stare at the words any longer. His mind turns to more pressing matters, like how he has been kneeling here for several minutes already and yet the ten judges still show no sign of commencing the trial. The crowd gathered around is murmuring impatiently, clearly eager for things to start. Still, the waiting continues.

He scans the room again closely, trying to figure out what is going on. It is only then that Danfeng realises that he isn't so much positioned in the middle of the courtroom but rather near the side. It’s almost as if he is not the one they are going to judge, almost as if they are waiting for someone else to arrive - as if he is to be a mere spectator in this trial.

“...”

Is this how he is going to reunite with Yingxing once more after they parted on such disastrous terms?

The tall wooden doors are pushed open, revealing another group of guards escorting what he assumes to be the other criminal the woman told him about back in prison. However, quickly becomes apparent that the person is not Yingxing.

The criminal being led in looks to be a male based on his height and stature, with long white hair reaching down his back. He wears a simple white robe that looks similar to mourning clothes, heavy shackles much like his own placed around his hands and bare feet. A crisp clinking sound rings out from the chains trailing ominously behind him. The sight makes Danfeng frown.

Now Danfeng finally knows why they have been waiting so long. Every step the man takes is accompanied by a slight pause, his feet wavering with hesitation. His gait is incredibly sluggish and almost unnatural to the point where you would think he never learned to walk in his life. He stumbles several times, the only thing keeping him upright being the men surrounding him who he clings to occasionally for support.

His features are difficult to make out given their distance and the many guards surrounding him, the hair falling into his face not helping in the slightest. Despite that, Danfeng is able to glean what looks like a metal band covering the person’s eyes. A blindfold of sorts, perhaps, for someone newly blinded. It would certainly explain how shaky he is. From the way it conforms perfectly to his skin and the complex locking mechanism at the back of his head, it must be fitted very tightly to his head.

How unusual. Danfeng does not know the ways of the Ten Lords Commission well, but he has never heard of such a harsh punishment before. Then again, he is a prime example of all their hidden cruelty. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered to be surprised at all.

Eventually, the procession makes it to its destination. The guards force the man to his knees, forcing a sound of surprise from him. The crowd might be in a frenzy of harsh whispers now, but it is not enough to drown out that familiar voice.

But that can't be right.

Danfeng’s hands clench into fists. His heart skips a beat.

That person kneeling there in front of the judges of the Ten Lords Commission... It can't be him. It can't be.

He must be mistaken.

Danfeng lunges forward, his chains rattling noisily as he tries to get past the men guarding him to get a better look at the kneeling man. His efforts are short lived as he is yanked back by the arms and hair, the men shouting in alarm as they jump to hold him down.

The kneeling man clearly notices the commotion, his head turning slightly towards Danfeng in acknowledgement.

“I wasn't aware that anyone else was going to be involved.”

“You have no right to ask questions.”

“... My apologies,” says the unmistakable voice of Jingyuan.

“!”

His mouth is wide open in a scream but only blood comes out. His throat folds in on itself, the exertion of trying to call out to the other rupturing something in there.

It’s Jingyuan.

It's Jingyuan.

Jingyuan… Why is he kneeling there? Jingyuan is there, right in front of him, kneeling in complete deference… He can't see him. He didn't notice him at all. The blindfold! His eyes! His—

Shame fills Danfeng for being unable to recognise Jingyuan the moment he entered the courtroom. But he just looked so different without his usual sunny smile, clean cut clothes and hair tied up, back straight and head held high with an aura of casual confidence. This subservient and haggard man couldn't be him! It couldn't be his Jingyuan!

“Finally, everyone is here,” comes the booming voice of what appears to be the leader of the ten judges. “Many of you might be wondering why the famed Jingyuan of the Cloud Quintet is here today. Many more might be wondering why he has been blinded.”

Blind. The word echoes in Danfeng’s head, reverberating around like some sort of endless loop. Jingyuan is… blind?

“I think it would be best to hear from the man himself,” the judge continues. “Jingyuan, do you have something to confess to everyone?”

The entire courtroom is so silent Danfeng can practically hear the pounding of his heart, the pathetic squeeze of air through his ruined throat and the tiredness radiating off Jingyuan in waves.

“... I, while not directly involved with the traitors of the Cloud Quintet in the destruction of the Xianzhou Alliance, knew what they were going to do and did nothing to stop them.” The resignation in his voice is palpable. “I am complicit in my silence.”

“...”

The room erupts in outrage.

“Silence! Silence, all!”

The head judge slams his gravel onto the table, the wooden block producing a piercing sound that cuts through the noise at once.

Jingyuan is blind.

“Jingyuan, answer me truthfully. You are known as the Divine Foresight, no?”

“Yes.”

“Then how could you have made such a grave oversight?!”

Jingyuan is blind. He is the criminal being trialled.

“You let those traitors - those monsters - stay by our side for so many years! Are you trying to destroy the entire Xianzhou Alliance?!”

“I have no excuse for my incompetence.”

Jingyuan is blind. He is the criminal being trialled. He is going to be punished.

“For one who holds such a lofty title despite your inaptitude, the Divine Foresight who lacks any foresight, don't you think blindness is a pretty fitting state for you?”

Danfeng can only watch as everything unfolds before him. Despite it all, Jingyuan still kneels unwaveringly in front of the crowd, never once showing a hint of fear of what is to come. The sight makes Danfeng dig his nails into his thighs, forcing himself to come to terms with the harsh reality of their circumstances.

He knew Jingyuan was blind from the beginning. He could tell from the way he walked and completely disregarded Danfeng despite being in clear view. No, the blindfold was all the evidence he needed. Danfeng had simply just gone mad from disbelief, stuck in a delusion of his own making where Jingyuan would continue to live in peace while Danfeng died and atoned for his sins.

But how could he be a criminal? He had clearly not been convicted at the start like he, Jingliu and Yingxing had been.

Unless…

“Yes.”

“However, admitting to your crimes is just the beginning. Do you accept the rest of your punishment?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.”

He gave himself up in exchange for a lighter sentence for Danfeng. With how much the corrupted aristocracy had been yearning to tear the Cloud Quintet down since their conception, how could they not jump at this golden opportunity?

Jingyuan, that liar! He said he wouldn't do anything rash, he said he wouldn't… he wouldn't—!

Cold realisation dawns on him.

That day as they talked, as Danfeng clung onto him - the only thing he had left in the world, Jingyuan he… He never agreed to anything. He never heard anything Danfeng had to say. He never even answered his questions in the first place.

His mind had been made up from the start.

“Men!”

“Yes!”

“Strip him!”

“Yes!”

Danfeng is helpless to watch as the guards tear the flimsy robe from Jingyuan’s body, leaving him stark naked in front of the whole room. They force him to the ground, making him kowtow to the judges sitting high up above. On their end, the judges appear to be discussing something among themselves. Danfeng is too far away to hear what they are saying, but he can see the head judge looking from side to side as his colleagues nod their approval.

“We judges have come to a conclusion,” he announces. “A hundred lashes of the whip will be the rest of your punishment.”

A terrifying looking whip is brought out. Jagged little blades are arranged along its length with an ominous power radiating from the whole thing. It was clearly designed to cause as much pain and damage as possible when used; Danfeng can already feel phantom pain streaking down his back from looking at it.

And they are going to use that on Jingyuan.

The head judge fishes out a single wooden slip from the cylindrical container in front of him. He toys with it between his fingers for a moment before throwing it.

The flimsy bit of wood seems to fly in slow motion. The clicking sound it makes as it hits the ground is thunderous to his ears. It is the sound of his guilt, the sins that Jingyuan would be shouldering on his behalf.

“Whip him.”

Crack!

The sound of the whip cutting through the air pierces through him. Not even a second later, it is followed by a splattering sound.

Danfeng looks down. The floor is streaked with a line of red. He looks up. The whip has torn a bloody gash across Jingyuan’s back.

Crack!

The whip falls again. This time, Danfeng doesn't look away. He doesn't know why, it is not like anyone is forcing him, but for some reason averting his eyes makes him feel like a coward.

Crack!

He watches as the sharp blades dig into the meat of Jingyuan’s back, tearing easily through skin and reaching tender flesh below.

Crack!

His mouth moves. A pathetic sounding gasp is all he can make. Jingyuan’s back quickly turns into a messy canvas of intersecting red lines splitting at the seams. Blood pours down his back, dripping onto the ground. It leaks everywhere, wetting his legs, his arms and more.

Crack!

He can't say anything, can't tell Jingyuan that he is here, that what he is doing is so utterly foolish, that he should get up and run far, far away. All Danfeng can do is scream silently in his head, sounding like a dying animal from all the desperate sounds he makes. Blood continues to leak from his poorly healed neck wound. Danfeng pays it little mind.

Crack!

This must have been their intention all along. This is his trial, his punishment for his heinous crime. Jingyuan might be the one being judged by the Ten Lords Commission, but having Danfeng watch it is the cruelest torture they could have ever come up with.

The whip falls and falls and falls.

Crack!

“Ten,” someone announces after the latest strike.

Jingyuan’s eyes are tightly shut; his breathing is uneven. His kneeling body is completely covered in red, blood oozing from the various ugly gashes torn deep into him.

… Ten lashes? This is just ten lashes?!

What punishment? With a hundred lashes of this, they are practically trying to kill Jingyuan!

“Oh dear, that does look quite nasty for only ten lashes, don't you think so?” someone suddenly speaks up. “I’ve seen people die from far less before. What do you think, Yinyue Jun, how many lashes will it take before your general caves?”

Danfeng grits his teeth, quickly recognising that condescending voice as the bespectacled official. He does his best to ignore the man, but the damage is already done. The seeds of doubt have been sowed, forcing him to consider that ugly possibility.

The whip continues to fall at a steady pace. It seems like the person carrying out the order has found a sort of rhythm to the whole thing, dealing out blow after blow with several seconds of rest between them.

The results are horrendous, the whip shredding Jingyuan’s back to absolute ruin. Danfeng can see the white of his spine and ribs beginning to show. Bits of flesh and skin clings the length of the whip, more piling on everytime it is brought down. The area around Jingyuan is soaked in red, blooming across the ground like the vibrant petals of a spider lily.

Danfeng feels his stomach churn.

“Twenty.”

There is not a single patch of intact skin left on Jingyun’s back. It makes him look more like a mass of shivering flesh than human. Danfeng finds himself leaning forward unconsciously, legs itching to carry him forward only for his guards to close in on him threateningly.

“You know, you can do something about this actually. As long as you’re in agreement to it, we will heal him right up so he can be torn open all again.”

Although he doesn't mention his name, Danfeng can tell it is the same official from before speaking to him. The man waves aside the guards for a moment, stepping closer to Danfeng and crouching down beside him.

“Well, I suppose it is a little cruel, being fully relieved from your pain only to be plunged back into it. But what can we do in the face of rightful retribution towards a man who nearly destroyed our home?”

The irony of the accusation is not lost on Danfeng, who opts to simply eye the man suspiciously. He knows just how powerless he is at the moment. Any chance of changing things would most definitely not come from himself. But this offer is just too good to be true, the man even listing out the drawbacks to him. Why give him this choice? Why potentially put Jingyuan’s life in his hands?

This most definitely has to be a trap.

“So, what do you say?” The man tilts his head in question, looking Danfeng right in the eyes. “Ahahaha, my bad, I forgot you can’t speak.”

“...”

“How about this?” The man slowly gets up, dusting off his robes leisurely. “You break all the fingers of one of your hands and I’ll have someone heal him. I’ll even let you choose which hand you want to break them from. You don't have to thank me, not like you're actually capable of doing so.”

“...”

Throughout the entire offer, Danfeng has been keeping an eye on the barbaric spectacle taking place in the centre of the hall. Jingyuan’s body tenses and relaxes with each blow, the once white hair hanging over his shoulders and face now splattered with blood and gore. And yet, he has made no sound of discomfort this whole time, merely letting out an occasional sharp inhale coupled with heavy breathing. Apart from the inevitable trembling of his body and occasional flinches, Jingyuan has been receiving his punishment with remarkable dignity.

But when Danfeng looks at Jingyuan closely, he can see just how taut his expression is, lips bitten bloody and pressed into a flat line. His bloodless pallour contrasts starkly against the vibrant red of his back and his surroundings. His agony is evident. How Jingyuan remains so strong is beyond him. 

“So, what do you think? A pretty good deal on both our ends I believe.”

The strikes are slowing down now, the man wielding the whip even going as far as to make several fakeout hits against the ground as if to purposefully drag out this farce of a trial. He doesn't know if it is to further torment Jingyuan, an attempt to put him on edge and catch him off guard when a strike finally lands true. Perhaps they are simply trying to tease a sign of weakness out of him. After all, Jingyuan has yet to show any outward sign of distress, and that sets a bad precedent when one is trying to make a point.

Or maybe, it is a deliberate act to give Danfeng time to agonise over the choice presented to him.

The timing is all a little too suspicious. Jingyuan looks to be in a terrible state. The leader of the group guarding him has been steadily steering his thoughts down the worst possible outcome. Is it arrogant of him to assume so? Danfeng feels like his head is going to split open from all the uncertainties, the stress and exertion of everything beginning to take its toll.

“I'm not lying you know? He really will be healed. Besides, compared to what he is going through for your sake, what are a few fingers in comparison?”

A strike to the ground. Danfeng’s heart jumps. Another strike to the ground, the other side this time. Jinyuan flinches.

Then the whip comes down hard, hitting Jingyuan for real this time. Danfeng watches as Jingyuan’s fists clench so hard they draw blood.

Jingyuan slumps forward. There is no more flesh to cushion the blows. He has long been whipped raw, the cruel blades chipping steadily away at bone. Danfeng doesn't know how much longer he can last.

How long would it be till they broke his spine? How many more strikes before the whip cracked his ribs? The humans of Xianzhou are immortal, able to heal from wounds that would normally kill other species and return to their original state.

But how long would that take? Danfeng can already imagine the agonising months Jingyuan would spend bedridden, paralysed and unable to move. His every breath would hurt, a slight wrong move would send him drowning on his own blood from a pierced lung. He would be so vulnerable, a practical feast served up to all their enemies that would seek to take out revenge on him. There would be no one to heal or care for him, no one to protect him.

Jingyuan would be all alone.

“You know, your inactivity could really spell his end here.” The man pushes up his glasses. “And wouldn't that be such a tragedy?”

That's right. Would Jingyuan even live through this? He could very well just be shredded apart by the time all this is over, turned into a pile of unrecognisable meat to be smeared against the sidewalk - to be discarded and forgotten.

And wouldn't that be such a tragedy?

The guard holding the whip draws a circle with its length, the blades attached making soft clicking sounds as they run over the marbled floor. Then he draws back, sending the whip flying in a perfect arc.

Crack!

The first one is hard.

Danfeng feels ashamed that he even hesitates. His right hand wraps around the pinky of his left. There is a moment of resistance before the bone gives with a sickening snap.

Crack!

He can't afford to wait between fingers. Danfeng knows that even a second of delay would mean Jingyuan is one step closer to death. A delay would also make doing the deed all that harder. He tugs hard on his fourth finger, breaking that too in one go.

Crack!

It hurts.

His hands are shaking. He can barely grip onto his fingers properly. The harsh sound of his breathing fills his ears. Pain races through his entire arm. He is moving on autopilot at this point, moving mechanically from one finger to the next. Danfeng doesn't allow himself to think, doesn't allow himself to regret. 

“Thirty.”

The last finger on his left hand breaks.

The bespectacled man gives him a sly smile.

“Well well well, you really did do as I suggested huh?” The man makes little attempt to hide the thinly veiled glee in his voice. “Desperate, aren't we?”

“...”

Cold sweat beads on his brow. Danfeng feels vaguely ill. Forget responding, he lacks the energy to even feel angry.

“You aren't just putting on an act for me though, are you?”

Danfeng looks up slowly at the man, eyes wide in disbelief. After all that… He was clearly watching as Danfeng snapped his fingers one by one! The audacity of him to—

His vision goes white. He feels himself swaying, his good arm darting out on reflex to shove the leg off him. But somehow, Danfeng manages to stop himself at the last moment.

Obediently, Danfeng lets the man grind his heel down on his hand, messing it up even more than what he had done to himself. His arm is shaking, tail jerking wildly behind him as he suffers through the experience.

His head hangs low, hair forming a curtain around him. The broken bones of his fingers grind against each other unnaturally, making his breath hitch and bile rise up his throat. A raspy sound is all that escapes his mouth, throat bobbing despite the pain it causes him. The urge to rip his arm away is strong, to escape the constant barrage of agony as he wrestles with himself to stay focused and keep in place.

“Very good. These are most certainly broken.”

The bespectacled official finally seems to be satisfied, stepping off Danfeng’s mangled fingers while still carrying that bloated air of self importance about him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Danfeng can see him making a signal to the judges sitting on the platform.

“Hold.”

The whipping mercifully comes to a stop.

“Heal him. Can’t have him dropping dead before his punishment can be completed.”

Unexpectedly, Jingyuan’s expression changes for the first time upon hearing those words. His face pales to a frightening degree, his badly damaged body shaking violently unlike anything before. Danfeng watches as Jingyuan tenses noticeably when the person holding the healing liquor approaches.

Something is wrong.

He expected weary resignation or some pushback from Jingyuan at most. After all, being healed if only to endure more torture compared to just bearing everything in one go is a difficult choice. If it had been Danfeng in his place, he isn't sure what he would have chosen either.

But this is different. This is fear. Others might not be able to tell, but Danfeng has always known Jingyuan better than anyone else.

“N-no, no need. Please, I can continue.”

“You dare reject our kindness?” the head judge says. “Force it down his throat.”

Something is wrong, but for the life of him, Danfeng cannot figure out what.

“NO! Please, don’t—” They drag Jingyuan up by the hair. “PLEASE—!” 

One person forces his head back while another presses hard on his cheeks until his mouth is forced to open. Jingyuan fails weakly, too hurt to put up much resistance. The sudden shift in position has more rivulets of blood gushing down his body in streams, splashing noisily to the floor. It is hard to make out his expression with his eyes covered by metal but the desperation in his protests is clear as day.

The gourd is pressed to his lips. When Jingyuan doesn't move to drink, the woman holding it simply pours it down his throat.

Jingyuan chokes, spluttering as the clear liquid flows in a continuous stream leaving him no room to breathe. Plenty of it spills down his bare chest in waste, but plenty more goes where it is intended. The group forcing him to drink doesn't relent, not until the entire gourd is empty.

Danfeng cradles his broken hand to his chest protectively as Jingyuan is finally released and allowed to fall to the ground. Despite all his fears and reservations, everything seems to work as intended. The ghastly wounds on Jingyuan’s back slowly heal even as he lies prone on the floor, smashed bones filling up and tissue knitting back together. The process is rather fascinating if morbid, giving the whole room a first hand view of the human body repairing itself. Jingyuan has hunched over himself since they dropped him, his body shaking minutely even as his back repairs itself. It makes Danfeng want to sigh in relief, knowing that regardless of—

A terrible sound fills the courtroom.

Red. Sticky, saccharine red. Red, the lurid colour of fresh blood, bubbles up and beads over, painting Jingyuan’s once fair face in the ugly shade. His mouth is hanging open, face twisted in agony. The sight is haunting; it would never leave Danfeng’s mind.

Danfeng has never heard Jingyuan scream before - not like this. The youngest of their group always had a penchant for dramatics, using it skillfully to get his way in things or provide entertainment in moments where spirits were low. Danfeng still remembers when Jinyuan had screamed and cried, throwing a hissy fit over how he needed to be checked over by him after returning from a particular mission with Yingxing one time. It was all theatrics really, everyone knew that. Yingxing had rolled his eyes, scoffing as he left the room to give them privacy while Danfeng merely sighed at the white haired human and his antics.

‘I really missed you,’ Jingyuan would say once they were cuddling in a comfortable seat together. ‘Yingxing bullied me again on our mission. I want to go with you next time.’

His smile was always so bright, so lively, more charming and brilliant than the fake Luofu sun. He would always be that lovely shining light for Danfeng, a single ray of hope in this mundane world tangled with messy affairs.

Jingyuan is screaming. His mouth is wide open, blood pouring down his face in thick rivets with his head thrown back. Fingers claw desperately at the metal blindfold over his eyes, scratching and scratching till his nails bleed and flake off. The metal doesn't budge. It remains firmly in place over Jingyuan’s eyes with blood gushing out from under it.

A-ah…

It’s horrible. Horrible. Jingyuan’s screams. It rings in his ears. Echoing, echoing, echoing. How wretched. He never wanted to hear such a thing.

Metal chains slam violently against the ground. More red flows from Jingyuan to join the already obscene puddle beneath him. Jingyuan had managed to keep himself composed during the whipping, but not anymore. He whimpers, body convulsing as he bangs his head against the ground. And still, blood continues to seep sluggishly past the blindfold.

“Now this is quite the development, don't you think, Yinyue?” the bespectacled man laughs lightly. “I can't say even I expected it myself.”

Everything unfolds in front of him with no regard for his sanity. It is his worst fears come to light, his worst nightmares brought to life.

There is nothing outwardly off about the blindfold. Danfeng might have his powers sealed at the moment but that much he can be sure about. There are spells, no traps.

So then, why?

Why? What did he do wrong? Why did it turn out this way? He was only trying to help… he only wanted Jingyuan to stop suffering, he didn't want Jingyuan to die, he didn't mean for it to turn out this way!

“Continue whipping.”

No, please, you can't, not after all that!

But Danfeng has no voice to express his protests. He never had one in the first place in the face of these cruel men who drink in Jingyuan’s suffering like a fine delicacy.

The pain in his neck and hand is forgotten. Danfeng’s mind is empty. Everything starts to fade at the edges, the world quickly going out of focus. All he can perceive is Jingyuan lying there on the ground, shuddering as his fingers still scratch weakly at the blindfold. The bleeding has slowed significantly now, but whatever harm it had inflicted has clearly left its mark.

They haul Jingyuan back up to his knees. His body is in perfect shape once more, smooth skin stretched taut over regrown flesh and bone to be torn apart again. If not for the pool of blood and little lumps of meat around him, the red stained whip and the bloody tear tracks streaking down his face, it would be hard to believe any of that torture even happened in the first place.

Jingyuan is practically a doll in their arms, all pliant and docile, allowing them to arrange him back in a kowtow. He has stopped making any sounds, arms hanging limply by his side. The man wielding the whip steps forward once more, his hand gripped tightly around its handle in preparation. Danfeng lets out a noise. If not for his lack of a voice, it could very well have been a sob.

The next thirty strikes pass by in a blur. Each set of ten is announced out like before. Each hit shreds just as much flesh as he remembers. Blood flies. Strike. A shuddery inhale. Strike. The same cycle. The same macabre sight. The same blood drenched ground. The same misery. Over and over and over.

Something must have broken in Jingyuan. As the whip tears him apart again, soft, yet audible gasps leave his mouth. His body trembles each time he is hit, shrinking in on himself as if unconsciously trying to escape the blows. With each layer of skin and flesh that is stripped from him once more, so do his resolute defences that once allowed him to keep his composure.

Danfeng stares at the faces of the ten judges. Impassiveness.

There are countless faces for him to scan in the gawking crowd. Boredom. Pleasure. Vindictiveness.

He hesitates, then chances a glance at the people guarding him. Indifference.

And finally, the bespectacled official. Mania.

“...”

Danfeng stops looking after that.

“Sixty.”

No one speaks to him. No one gives him any more offers. Jingyuan looks to be near death once more as they haul him up to heal him again. A small part of Danfeng prays for something to be different, that things won't turn out the same.

Jingyuan falls to the ground, curling up into a tight ball. His cries of agony are softer this time, more well controlled but no less heart wrenching. His body heals even as his eyes bleed, fingers scratching uselessly at his blindfold to no avail.

His nails dig into his cheeks, ripping bloody lines. They heal.

He bites down on his lips so hard they tear. They heal.

The lashes all over his body twist and warp as muscle and tendons rearrange themselves. They heal.

All heals except his eyes that continue to bleed.

“Continue whipping.”

There is a pattern to all of this now. Would they continue to heal Jingyuan at intervals of thirty? Does that mean they would do this one more time, with ten lashes left over for good measure?

Danfeng doesn't know what comes over him. He drags his aching body over to the side, clutching at the bespectacled man’s robes as he tugs on them desperately.

The shame from the pathetic act is quick to dissipate. Danfeng would have begged if he could. He would lick his boots if that would help. Danfeng would gladly sell his soul, would easily toss away what remains of his dignity if it means that something would change. 

Anything… Anything to spare Jingyuan going through that again.

He's not sure what to make of the man’s expression. It looks something of a cross between pleasant surprise and smug satisfaction.

“Wasn't this what you wanted?” The man eventually settles on amusement at his sudden change of attitude. “It was your choice, no? Unless you’re telling me you wish to see him near death again.”

“...”

He is right. This is the result of his own choices. Danfeng doesn't want Jingyuan to die, but he also doesn't want him to be in pain. Those two desires cannot coexist. His fear of losing Jingyuan for good would not allow them to coexist.

No, none of that makes sense. They would never have allowed Jingyuan to die no matter how much they hated him. He is too useful. Danfeng is merely too paranoid, too uncertain, too unwilling to take that gamble. Maybe his choices never mattered to begin with. Maybe this was destined to happen. He doesn't know. He doesn't know.

His body sags, hands dropping limply to the floor.

All the while, the whipping continues. Danfeng wants to say he grows immune to the ghastly sight, but he would just be deluding himself. He has simply grown numb, his mind and senses so overwhelmed by hopelessness that he doesn't know how to react anymore.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

“Ninety.”

They heal him. Jingyuan moans. Danfeng watches.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

The final strike seems to take forever to land. Having only endured nine lashes up to this point from being healed, Jingyuan is in a… relatively better state. His entire back might still be raw and bloody, but at least no bones or internal organs are showing.

Crack!

“Hundred.”

At last, the whipping comes to an end.

Danfeng nearly falls to the ground in relief, the only thing keeping him up is his good arm which has gone numb by this point.

It’s over, right? Whatever this trial - this travesty is - it surely must be over.

“The criminal’s punishment has been met. This trial is now over.”

With a casual wave, the judges dismiss everyone, putting an end to the entire affair. Murmurs of discontent break out among the gathered crowd. It is apparent they expected something more than this.

Danfeng couldn't care less about them. He starts to get up, wanting to reach Jingyuan who is still kneeling with his forehead pressed to the ground only to be yanked back down by his chains.

“How naive.” The official shakes his head. “You think this is over?”

Danfeng stares at him uncomprehendingly.

It’s… not?

“... D-daren.^[2]”

Jingyuan’s voice rings out across the hall. His head is still bowed and touching the ground, but his words come out steady and remarkably calm.

“He… His sentence will be lightened, right?”

Jingyuan…

“... Who?”

There is a pause before the judges respond. The gawking onlookers erupt in a flurry of excited chatter. No one could have expected such a unwavering voice after all that brutal torture.

“... You know who I’m talking about.”

After all that torment you went through, after all that pain and suffering…

“We, in fact, don't, General Jingyuan,” the leading judge says. “Your subordinates might be used to your little word games, but we the judges of the Ten Lords Commission are not.”

Jingyuan doesn't reply immediately. Danfeng wonders what he is thinking about. The youngest of their group always had a way with words. He thrived on the battlefield just like the other four of them but not for the same reason. Rather than for his martial prowess, he was better known for his immaculate planning skills, his foresight that saw through endless possibilities and outcomes.

Jingyuan lifts his head. His eyes might be covered, but Danfeng can practically see those beautiful golden eyes staring at the ten judges with a burning gaze.

“... I am of course referring to the elder of the Vidyahara, Yinyue Jun, Danfeng.”

Jingyuan, how can you still be thinking of me?

“You dare mention that traitor’s name?!” the head judge bellows. “Seems like you have yet to learn your lesson. Men, come and pull out his tongue!”

Jingyuan doesn't even flinch when men surround him on all sides, pulling him up and forcing his mouth open once more. He neither resists nor does he comply, simply allowing them to do as they like. An almost eerie sense of tranquillity envelopes him despite the blood sliding down his back. He likely foresaw this outcome and yet Jingyuan sought to provoke them all the same.

Just as someone brings out a pair of pincers heated by a bronze bowl of embers, one of the judges suddenly calls out.

“Hold.”

Anxiety fills Danfeng as the ten judges seem to disagree over something, arguing back and forth while the men holding Jingyuan shift around awkwardly. Danfeng eyes the pincers wearily in the meantime, noticing how they glow with a red hot sheen from being placed on the burning embers for so long. Its use on an organ as sensitive as the tongue would no doubt cause unbelievable trauma to it, killing nerves and flesh immediately upon contact. Danfeng doesn't even want to consider the pain it would cause, much less the sensation of a tongue being ripped from your mouth using that.

His attention is drawn by someone clearing their throat.

“Upon further consideration, we have decided that we still have use for your tongue. Chop off his hands instead.”

Like a well oiled machine, the man carrying the bronze bowl steps back only for another to take his place with his sword drawn. A small knife is placed on top of the embers, its blade slowly turning red as it quickly heats up. The shackles on Jingyuan’s wrists are removed and as they move to secure his arms to a wooden contraption that had been wheeled out, he shakes his head.

“No need.”

Calmly, as though he is simply asking for more little trinkets Danfeng used to bring him back from his trips when Jingyuan was younger, Jingyuan holds his arms out in front of himself and waits.

“How admirable of you, General, truly living up to your name and position apart from this little misstep,” the judge praises. “Then we shall be merciful as well. Men, make it quick.”

“Yes!”

It happens so quickly that Danfeng can almost pretend that it is a figment of his imagination. One moment the punishment enforcer is still holding his sword high above his head, and in the next it has fallen, taking Jingyuan’s hands with it.

“Cauterise the wound.”

The small knife that has now been heated to a red hot temperature is pressed to the stumps where Jingyuan’s hands once were, slowing the once gushing spurts of blood to a trickle.

The smell of burning flesh is quick to fill the air. Jingyuan is shaking violently, sweat dripping down his bloody face as he resolutely refuses to utter a sound. Danfeng presses his good hand to his mouth, trying his hardest not to throw up. The noxious fumes fill his nose even as the flesh of Jingyuan’s arm burns, skin blackening and curling at the edges. He can barely believe he is thinking this, but in comparison to the long, drawn out agony of having your tongue burn as it is torn out of your mouth, this quick flash of pain from losing your hands and cauterisation really does feel like a mercy.

“Jingyuan, your arrogance has always known no bounds. Hopefully, today teaches you some humility.”

This should have been the end of this nightmare. Danfeng doesn't even care what happens to himself anymore. He would gladly return to that damp and dark cell to rot away for all eternity if it meant that this trial would finally end.

But Jingyuan, stupid, stubborn - foolish - Jingyuan, just has to open his mouth.

“D-daren, please, what of our agreement?”

His eyes are suspiciously wet. It feels like his heart is being crushed into pieces.

Please, Jingyuan…

Danfeng squeezes down on his broken hand. The bones shift; he can feel something rupture.

It hurts. It hurts.

But still, not more than his broken heart.

Please, don't say anymore…

There are no words to adequately describe how he is feeling. What he feels exists beyond sorrow. It is as though he is drowning in an ocean of never ending darkness, slowly suffocating as he is hit over the head by wave after wave of despair. The sky is overcast, the stormy clouds snuffing out the fading rays of the radiant sun.

And then he eventually sinks, falling deeper and deeper as his outstretched hands close around nothing.

“Hm, do not worry, Jingyuan. We judges of the Ten Lords Commission are not unreasonable people. Since we agreed to lighten the sentence of that… other criminal, we will naturally follow through with our word.”

“However, we do require a bit of convincing. That's only reasonable, don't you think so?”

A beat of silence.

“Yes, daren.”

“Come here, Jingyuan.”

In front of the gleefully watching crowd, Jingyuan slowly begins to stand. Without hands or his sight to help him, Jingyuan sways precariously, clearly struggling to find his balance. The deep gashes on his back spilt and spill more blood from the movement, barely making a difference to the floor already slippery from blood. He makes it to a half crouch before one of the judges finally loses their patience.

“You can crawl if you’d like, General,” the youngest of the judges comments offhandedly. “Those legs of yours don't look too steady.”

Jingyuan’s legs are indeed shaking noticeably, looking like they would give out under him at any moment.

“Daren, I must respectfully decline—”

“Crawl.”

“...”

Without further protest, Jingyuan sinks back down, places the burnt stumps of his arms on the ground and begins to crawl.

His progress is slow but steady, hampered mainly by the halting flinches during his first few steps. Each time his arms come into contact with the ground must be sheer agony. How Jingyuan is even able to move forward, no, to even stay upright is incomprehensible to him.

Jingyuan angles his head towards the ground, allowing his bloodied hair to fall all over his face messily. The chains from the shackles on his legs rattle noisily as he shuffles forward, laboured breathing echoing loudly in the now silent hall. He eventually leaves the puddle of his own blood, continuing forward until he bumps into the base of the stairs leading up to the platform where the ten judges are sitting.

Pausing for a moment, Jingyuan gingerly feels around with his arms before starting to make his way up the flight of stairs. Very soon, there is a streak of red running through the middle of the stairs, dripping from his ruined back and handless stumps that must have begun bleeding anew at some point. Danfeng feels phantom pain racing up his arm every time Jingyuan lifts his arm up only to place it back down. The only small relief is that the stairs are mercifully short, barely reaching the height of a grown man rather than something ridiculous like three thousand seven hundred and ninety nine.

The wetness in Danfeng’s eyes from before refuses to recede. It only continues to build. An entire lifetime of shattered dreams seems to flash past before Jingyuan finally manages to drag himself to the top of the stairs. Jingyuan must have realised this too for he stops moving, clearly lost without any voices to guide him.

“Over here,” one of the judges calls out to him.

Jingyuan hesitates before starting to crawl again, only to immediately bump into the table in front of him.

The tension in the air snaps.

Laughter rings out. The watching crowd jeers and shouts profanities. They had mostly been silent during the punishment before, but something about Jingyuan’s current humiliated state must have roused the ugly cruelty in their hearts. 

A drop of liquid splashes onto the ground in front of him. Danfeng rubs his eyes fiercely.

“Silly thing,” the head judge chides once he recovers from his laughter. “What would you do without us?”

Jingyuan’s entire body is tensed up, shoulders hunched protectively in on himself as he weathers the barrage of leers thrown his way. His head moves in the direction of the judge’s voice, clearly having heard him yet seemingly conflicted on what to do.

“Ugh, how troublesome.”

With a wave of a hand, the judges sitting at the table have one of their enforcers running up the steps to serve their needs. The man uses Jingyuan’s long hair like a leash, forcing him to stumble over himself as he is hauled around the table and thrown in front of the head judge.

It takes a while for Jingyuan to get up from where he is slumped over, but once he does, he meekly makes his way over to the judge who is speaking to him.

“Finally.” The middle aged judge lets out a satisfied sigh. “Now let’s get this off you, hm?”

He reaches down, brushing some of Jingyuan’s blood soaked hair out of the way as he fiddles with the mechanism at the back of the blindfold. Danfeng notices how he wears black gloves that were not there before, disgust filling him at the thought of how these people must view Jingyuan.

To Danfeng’s mild surprise, the metal blindfold comes off with relative ease. The process elicits a full body shudder from Jingyuan as it drops to the ground with a loud clunk.

One of the guards around him whistles, speaking up for the first time.

“Wow, so that's why he was bleeding from the eyes? Damn, whoever thought up that punishment must really be one sick fuck.”

“...”

Danfeng fails to understand what he is seeing.

The judge forces Jingyuan’s eyelid open and pushes two fingers inside, idly playing around with the empty socket.

Danfeng blinks. He shifts his gaze to the discarded blindfold on the ground. It looks very much like an ordinary metal band designed to conform perfectly around someone’s head. The insides are covered liberally in blood and other unnamable substances. The only unusual thing about it is the two protrusions extending from it, positioned perfectly to fit over the eyes of a human head.

“…”

Gore covers the two protrusions. Blood drips slowly from the ends. Stringy bits of optic nerves, the crushed remains of a retina, bits of white sclera still cling to the metal…

“…”

The judge appears to find something, scooping out the lumpy remains of countless crushed eyeballs from Jingyuan’s sockets. They are discarded carelessly to the ground, letting out a wet noise on impact. Jingyuan makes a soft sound of distress. The man pats his cheek, cooing at him patronisingly.

Realisation dawns on him.

Danfeng hunches over, hand glued to his mouth as his stomach turns.

They had been growing back the entire time. Those beautiful golden eyes, ones that would always stare at him with such love and adoration, shining with a light even brighter than the sun… They grew, only to be crushed up against cold steel that filled his empty sockets. Growing, crushed, growing again, crushed again…

Vomit races up his throat.

He caused that. He caused Jingyuan to go through that.

He heaves.

His throat hurts. It burns with crippling pain. A mixture of blood and bile drips past his fingers onto the ground. Danfeng can't remember the last time he ate anything and yet—

He heaves again. More blood. More burning acid. His neck is on fire, agony racing through his veins. It feels like the world is breaking down around him, his vision narrowing to a single point that can only focus on that trembling and wounded body, his white, fluffy hair, the whimpers of pain he can hear that signal’s Jingyuan’s suffering. His black hair pools on the ground in front of him, dirtied by his vomit. He doesn't care. He doesn't care.

Danfeng plants his palms firmly on the ground to prevent himself from collapsing. He barely feels the protest of his broken hand. The urge to break his good hand into two as well is strong, to crush it into smithereens from the sheer amount of self loathing he feels. But nothing he can do will ever take that experience away from Jingyuan. No amount of pain or self flagellation will make up for what he put Jingyuan through.

And still… and still—!

“Well, what are you waiting for?” The next time Danfeng’s mind is clear enough to perceive what is happening, Jingyuan is positioned between the middle aged judge’s legs. “Get to work convincing us. We don't have all day.”

This nightmare still isn't over.

There is little room to misinterpret the man’s order, not when Jingyuan has been guided into such a suggestive position. Jingyuan must have recognised this as well, for he does as he is told with no protest. Or at least he attempts to.

With mere bloody stumps left for hands and no eyes, Jingyuan can only paw uselessly at the judge’s black robes. It is impossible to expect him to be able to see what he is doing, much less undress the man in front of him to service him.

“Ahahahahaha,” the judge eventually laughs, but not before giving Jingyuan ample time to humiliate himself. “My bad, my bad. I forgot you’re a little short on hands now.”

He takes his sweet time to undo his pants, parting his robes enough to take his half hard dick out. Much like when facing the other attempts to embarrass him, Jingyuan does not give any response. He simply kneels docilely in place, awaiting whatever further acts of depravity they wish to inflict on him.

“Here.” 

The judge slaps his cock against Jingyuan’s cheek, smearing precum all over the drying blood on his face. The only sign of reluctance he shows is a slight downturn of his lips before Jingyuan parts his mouth and tries to take the tip into his mouth.

Just as he is about to touch it, the man quickly pulls away. Jingyuan’s mouth closes over nothing, his body freezing up in clear confusion.

“How clumsy of you, General.” The man rubs himself on Jingyuan’s forehead. “Can’t even follow simple instructions?”

“...”

Jingyuan tilts his head up. His nose bumps against the underside of the dick. But when he rises up to try and wrap his lips around it, the judge moves his cock away again.

What follows is a near unbearable sight. The judge toys with Jingyuan sadistically, shifting his cock away every time Jingyuan manages to brush against it. This goes on for what feels like forever, with Jingyuan chasing the man’s dick like some sort of depraved game of cat and mouse.

The wetness in his eyes is back again. Danfeng rubs them furiously, chest heaving as he tries to control the sudden barrage of emotions that well up within him. It doesn't work. He can feel he is at a tipping point, poised to tumble over into a freefall with even the slightest disturbance.

Eventually, the man seems to grow bored with this never ending game. He grabs a fistful of white hair, forcing Jingyuan down onto his cock.

“That’s a good boy.” He punctuates his idle comment with the snap of his hips. “Maybe in the future we will let your hands grow back. I bet you are as skilled with them as your mouth, hm?”

Jingyuan chokes from the sudden act, making ugly gagging noises as he is forced to deepthroat the man. His arms press urgently against the man’s legs, body jerking as he struggles to breathe. But despite all that, Danfeng can see him still trying to suck the man’s cock with as much composure as he can manage. In fact, when the man begins moving his head carelessly and using his mouth like Jingyuan is some sort of cheap toy to get off to, it only seems to prompt Jingyuan to give up more control, body going limp as he allows the man to use him.

Something in Danfeng tips over and shatters at the sight. His arms buckle, the floor rushing up to greet him. His forehead is soon smacking against the ground, his eyes bubbling with moisture that continues to build and build. Danfeng clenches his hands, feeling the sharp bite of pain as his body shakes. But he is not even allowed this bit of privacy. He finds himself being yanked up by the horns almost immediately, sending a flash of pain running through his body.

“Oh dear, are you actually crying?”

The first thing he sees is the loathed face of the bespectacled officer. He presses his fingers to Danfeng’s cheeks, wiping away the stream of tears that refuse to stop falling.

“You must be lonely, watching your general get all the action while you can only watch.” His smile is mockingly pleasant. “Not to worry though. We can easily fix that.”

The chain connected to the shackles of his arms is pulled, forcing Danfeng to go along with them. He stumbles after the guards leading him clumsily, his legs numb from having knelt for so long. The forgotten pain in his backside flares up as he struggles to keep up their pace, legs wobbling and body protesting at the harsh treatment.

When they finally come to a stop, Danfeng finds himself surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces. They mostly look like the average hardworking and honest Xianzhou citizen, varying vastly in age and looks. The only common thing among them is the sinister undertone to whatever expression they show and the palpable stench of lust in the air.

His stomach churns again but for an entirely different reason this time.

“Time to say hello to your fans.” His… ‘fans’ move to close in on him. “Look at all these people who came here just to meet you. Aren't you quite the popular celebrity?”

“...”

The more enthusiastic of the group have already started helping themselves to him. Hands touch his injured tail, feeling up the empty patches where his scales have been ripped out. Some tangle themselves in his long hair while another slides down his back gently, the lack of pain of cruelty unsettling him more than direct violence. A breathy sound is torn from his lips when someone picks up his broken hand, pressing kisses to the reddened flesh.

“Yinyue Jun, I've always admired you from afar.” The rather young looking man has a look of worship on his face as he continues to caress his hand, heedless of Danfeng’s obvious discomfort. “I-I can't believe I get to fuck you now. It's like a dream come true.”

Disgust fills him. Had this just been a day ago and happened back in the prison, Danfeng would have no doubt levelled the man with a glare of disdain and a few pointed words to go with it. But now after everything he had gone through, he can barely even muster up the energy to respond.

It turns out he doesn't have to do so. Someone yanks his head to the side by the horns, causing his vision to temporarily white out from the abrupt force. A Vidyahara’s horns are a symbol of their power and strength, an essential part of their being tied deeply to their soul. As such, they are in a way an extension of their cultivation, making them both intimate and sensitive at the same time.

“Traitor.”

Danfeng thought he had long since grown used to the label, but the sting to his heart tells him otherwise.

“You destroyed my family… you destroyed everything!”

The middle aged Foxian man is practically spitting in his face. His features are twisted into a vivid depiction of pure hatred, face red and panting loudly.

“I’ll make you pay… I’ll make you pay!”

The hands squeeze down on his horns harshly. Danfeng squirms, nervously weathering all the tinges of pain that emanate from them. Even with his powers sealed, no ordinary person should be able to break them with just a bit of force. The man quickly seems to realise that as well, letting out a scream of frustration. 

“Why not fuck him instead then?” someone behind him pipes up. “You’re already in the perfect spot to use his mouth.”

His hips are grabbed and lifted up, forcing Danfeng to get to his hands and knees. The cheeks of his ass are spread open, prompting the person appraising him to let out a sound of disapproval.

“He’s pretty messed up back here, but ah well.” Fingers prod at his entrance carelessly. “Can’t say I didn't expect it.”

he feels the blunt head of a cock being pressed against his hole. Despite his best attempts to hold still, an involuntary shudder still runs through his whole body. Sticky precum drips onto the flesh of his ass, scalding hot against his cold skin.

Without any further warning, the cock forces its way into him. Again comes the sensation of being split into two down the middle, one that he has grown all too used to after his month-long stay in the Shackling Prison. Hot blood dribbles down his thighs, welling up from where the cock has breached him. After countless days of constant abuse, he tears easily now, never quite having the time to heal. The sharp exhale he lets out is quickly muffled by the length that is shoved into his mouth. It appears that the Foxian man must have taken the suggestion to fuck him instead, using his horns as handrails as he thrusts harshly into Danfeng’s mouth. Danfeng gags around the length, trying his hardest to relax on both ends, knowing that any resistance would only make things worse for Jingyuan and himself.

The entire affair is crude and fast. Danfeng has a feeling it is less about enjoying themselves and more about luxuriating over the experience of having power over someone who once stood so high. He can see it in the Foxian man’s eyes, the way he batters the back of Danfeng’s throat with each deliberate swing of his hips that makes him flail in agony. This is meant to hurt, a vindictive form of revenge as he attempts to inflict as much pain and humiliation on Danfeng as possible.

Within minutes Danfeng’s face is being meshed against the Foxian man’s groin. The smell of musk and blood fills his nose as the man’s hips stutter, grinding his cock deep into Danfeng’s throat before he starts to cum. All Danfeng can do is jerk weakly as he is held still by the horns, forced to drink everything down. The viscous liquid slides down his bleeding throat, mixing with blood to create a disgusting mixture that he is reluctant to swallow. And this whole time, the unknown person still has their hands on his hips, pounding into Danfeng from behind as his own blood creates a smooth slide for him.

“C’mon, move over. Don’t hog him all for yourself.”

Another person who already has his dick out tries to get the Foxian man who is still sheathed inside Danfeng to pull out, clearly eager for his turn. Danfeng doesn’t care about their arrangements, he just wants a chance to breathe properly and some respite from the constant contact on his sensitive horns.

Eventually, the Foxian is coaxed into removing his cock. Danfeng feels the slow drag of the softening length against his tongue and resists the urge to shudder. The constant rocking from the person fucking him from behind propels him forward at random intervals that force him to steady himself with his good hand on the ground. The other is still being toyed with by that other sick bastard, just another source of pain for his already battered body.

However, the Foxian man still seems reluctant to leave even after tucking his dick back into his pants. He clings onto Danfeng’s horns, much to the displeasure of the other man who is trying to get Danfeng to take in his cock. Danfeng has half a mind to wrench his horns out of the hold of the man who seems so hell bent on breaking them when a sharp voice breaks through the sounds of panting and sex.

“Allow me to help.”

Danfeng’s eyes widen as he gazes up at the female Vidyahara that steps forward. Her hands glow with a subtle power that is quickly transferred to the man when she touches him.

“Such a disgrace to our race shouldn't be allowed to keep that majestic crown on his head.”

“...”

He had always known how much he had angered the entirety of Xianzhou with his mistake. He had always known that there was nothing left for him but hatred in his homeland. But somehow, hearing it come from someone of his own race… it cuts deeper than anything else.

Maybe some small, stubborn part of him still yearned for forgiveness and understanding. Her casual dismissal is like the final nail in the coffin, killing that tenuous bit of budding hope before it can grow any further. Only one person is willing to stay by his side now, and Danfeng can barely even see him past the many bodies blocking his view.

Grinning widely with his newfound power, the Foxian man squeezes down on his horns again. The difference becomes apparent immediately. Danfeng convulses in agony as he feels the pressure on them mount, a sharp streak of something lancing through them. The translucent turquoise shape of his horns wavers under the power as his mouth opens in a soundless scream. He can feel it, trembling, breaking down bit by bit from the prolonged contact. The pain continues to rise. The ringing in his ears intensifies. Something deep within him is breaking apart, splitting into two. His tail and legs thrash wildly even when the crowd tries to hold him still, his hands darting out to grasp the Foxian man’s wrists to wrench them away—

Snap.

…

…

…

Danfeng gasps. The fingers around his throat are crushing it. He can feel his windpipe slowly collapsing as his neck becomes slick with blood. He can't tell if the pain is coming from his wound being rubbed raw or the sensation of slowly suffocating.

Something forces its way into his open mouth. It is hard and hot, tasting of salt and constantly hitting the back of his ruined throat. His vision is going black at the edges as his spine arches off the floor, body thrashing involuntarily against the hands holding him down. Someone parts his legs wider. Another tugs hard on his tail, wrapping it around another cock. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh rings in his ears. More cum is pumped into him.

The hands around his neck continue to squeeze and squeeze. He can't breathe past the thick cock fucking his throat raw, can't breathe past the mounting pressure on his windpipe. His eyes begin to roll back, the futile struggles of his body slowly dying down. Fluids splash down on his battered body. The sensation feels very far away.

There is a hand palming over his limp cock. Danfeng barely reacts. He merely makes a desperate attempt to take in air. His nose is pinched shut. He can't breathe.

His mind is fading. The static refuses to clear. Blurry shapes move around him. And his throat… he can’t breathe, he can’t…

…

…

…

Danfeng convulses. It feels like he is being split into two. His mouth is hanging wide open. He would have been screaming if he could. His legs kick weakly at nothing as the second cock forces its way deeper into him, bringing with it a fresh spurt of blood as it tears him apart.

His tail thrashes in distress. Someone catches hold of it and—

Pain. Agony. His vision flashes red as he heaves, body shaking violently even as it is pressed to the ground. Hot, thick blood splurts and gushes from his tail. 

Finally, the two men are sheathed fully inside him. Danfeng’s body is trembling minutely, tensed and ready to fall apart at any moment. Voices coo at him from all directions, a myriad of mockery and pretty nothings that only serve to humiliate him more. Then the men begin to thrust into him and Danfeng is throwing his head back, spine lighting up with agony before blackness mercifully takes him once more.

…

…

…

The world is shaking nauseatingly.

Danfeng blinks himself awake slowly this time, mildly surprised he is allowed this small luxury. The previous times had felt like nothing but agony filled fever dreams, painted over by a filter of static that blurs everything together into indistinguishable blobs.

Cautiously, Danfeng tries to move his body. His arms seem to be wrapped around someone’s shoulders, while his head is hanging limply over their back.

“You finally awake, sweetheart?”

A particularly hard thrust has Danfeng waking up fully.

A Vidyahara man has his arms looped under Danfeng’s bent legs, carrying him completely off the ground in an impressive display of strength. Of all the positions he could have chosen, he does not know why the Vidyahara decided on this one. All Danfeng knows is that it offers him an unexpected bit of privacy to hide his face even as the man continues to make him bleed from below.

His head is still spinning. How much time had passed? The last clear thing Danfeng can remember is his awareness abruptly cutting short the moment he felt the sickening snap of his horns. He had floated in and out of consciousness after that, his memories blurred and filled with nothing but the distinct impression of pain. Blood has been trickling down his nose for a while now. He coughs, trying to rid his mouth of the constant taste of iron to no avail. Something is wrong with his tail. A quick glance shows that part of it has been cut off at the tip. When did that even happen?

“Ah, fuck,” the Vidyahara carrying him grunts into his ears. “So fucking tight even after all those people used you. Gonna fill you up so much.”

The loud pants and irregular thrusts cue Danfeng in on the man’s impending release. He finds himself entirely uncaring of that fact, his mind instead wondering about more important matters. Jingyuan must be going through the same thing as him, only hurting a thousand times worse. And without his sight, an injured back that has yet to stop bleeding, and no hands that once wielded starchess pieces so elegantly while defeating their entire quintet in a convincing victory, how vulnerable must he be feeling?

Scaling heat shoots deep into him. The man crushes Danfeng into his chest, hips making little jerks as he rides out the entirety of his orgasm. It seems to drag on and on, cum pumping steadily into his ass in spurts. Danfeng is too tired to really care, eyes remaining half lidded as he waits for the whole thing to be over. 

Having satisfied himself with Danfeng’s body, the Vidyahara drops him callously onto the ground, sparing him not another glance as he tidies up his clothing and simply walks away. Too exhausted to attempt breaking his fall, Danfeng simply collapses face first into the marble floor, his body lighting up with pain from injuries he didn't even know existed from the impact. Cum and blood leak from his ass as he lies still, hair sprawled messily over his face. His breathing is slow and uneven; he barely even registers when more people close in on him.

Time loses all meaning. All the people around him blend into one indistinguishable mess. Cock after cock is stuffed into him, releasing their loads deep inside his bowels. Even more coats his body and face together with the numerous cuts and bruises that he doesn't remember acquiring. Danfeng can feel how the wound on his neck is all torn and exposed now. It stings whenever someone inevitably presses down on it, smearing blood all over his already fluid covered body. The small puddle of red beneath him only continues to grow as another man fucks into him, aggravating his already torn ass and forcing pinkish cum to dribble out.

Two daggers pin him down to the ground like an insect on display, spearing through his unbroken hand and tail. Blood leaks sluggishly from the wounds whenever he is jostled, which is a near constant as someone is always fucking into him. Someone pats him on the head, fingering the sad remains of his horns. The desire to fight back surges up for all but a second before it fizzles out and dies.

He somehow finds the strength to wonder about how Jingyuan even came to accept such an arrangement. They probably promised him that Danfeng would receive a peaceful death and be allowed to moult, with his new incarnation no longer bearing the sins of this life. And given the dire situation and how limited his options were, Jingyuan must have taken that terrible deal.

But of course it would be a lie. Danfeng is still being tormented up to his last breath, forced to sit through the most devastating punishment they could ever conjure up.

Then, what did Jingyuan even put himself through this for? Nothing would have made a difference; Danfeng’s fate had been sealed from the start.

“I love you so much Yinyue Jun. You have no idea how much I've been waiting for this moment.”

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can never walk again.”

“They say the mightiest always fall the hardest; this fallen look really suits you remarkably well.”

“Gonna breed you so good, put so many eggs into you.”

“May you never find peace even in your next life, may you never have a moment of peace!”

Danfeng ignores all of them. None of them matters in his eyes. He cranes his neck, searching for a gap in the mass of sweaty bodies. It must have been hours since he last saw Jingyuan. All he wants to do is to get even a glimpse of him to see how he is fairing.

“Still trying to look for your general?” The person buried deep into his ass pauses for a moment to embrace him from behind. “What good is he anyway? I promise I’ll make you feel better than he ever could.”

“Hah, he’s probably thinking about how small your cock is in comparison to the general’s.”

“What did you say?!”

“I mean am, I wrong?” says the man using Danfeng’s mouth. “Or maybe it’s the other way around? Are you angry that the judges are fucking your personal slut? Maybe I’ll go over there later to get a taste of his sweet ass—”

The rest of his words are cut off as he screams, pushing desperately at Danfeng’s head as he struggles to get away. Danfeng doesn't relent even when his face is scratched, biting down hard until he tastes blood.

But eventually, through a combination of pressure on his jaw and the twisting of the dagger buried in his tail, Danfeng relents. The man falls backwards immediately, still screaming as he lands on his ass and cradles the mangled remains of his cock. Danfeng spits out a combination of cum and the man’s disgusting blood to the side. What a pity he didn't manage to bite it off completely.

“You whore!”

A sword comes flying at him out of nowhere, its hilt striking Danfeng right in the jaw.

“How dare you do that to my dage^[3]!”

The human’s face is completely red, features twisted into an ugly look of fury. He wrenches Danfeng’s mouth open violently and pummels his teeth with his sword again.

Of course, Danfeng tries to dodge, but it is difficult when he has two limbs nailed to the floor and his entire body is bruised and broken. The first strike to his teeth catches him off guard, the impact reverberating throughout his skull and sending him reeling from the pain. He manages a pathetic little jerk the second time, avoiding the man’s swing by a hair's breadth. The third knocks two of his teeth from his mouth together with a spew of blood as Danfeng fails to move in time.

“Hey hey, can you not? You’re ruining his pretty face.”

“What’s the point of a pretty face when you can't even enjoy it?” the angry man counters hotly. “I came here expecting a tight hole to fuck, not to see my dage nearly lose his dick! If you really want a compliant and pretty thing, why not try the brothels down the street? Or maybe wait for him to be reborn and then fuck him when he’s still innocent.”

“Tsk, how uncouth.”

“Why don't you come up with a suggestion then?” the man says. “Unless you want to try using his mouth too?”

Before the argument can continue any further, they are stopped by the intervention of an unfortunately familiar voice.

“What’s the issue now?”

It has been so long since he saw that despicable bespectacled face that Danfeng nearly forgot all about him. The official certainly doesn’t seem interested in partaking in this orgy, only stepping in now that there is a commotion.

“The slut nearly bit off Rong-ge’s dick!”

“I see,” he says, sounding oddly disappointed. “Really, trying to be defiant now? And here I was, thinking that you were sensible enough to realise the consequences of your actions.”

Danfeng briefly closes his eyes and looks away. His mouth and jaw throb harshly. The people who had once been clamouring to use him are now giving him a wide berth, no doubt worried about whether the payback the official has in store for him would affect them. He sneers inwardly at their timidness, all while struggling to hold himself upright. The dizziness never quite left to begin with, merely taking a backseat as the constant pain from being used so viciously made it hard to notice much else.

“You, come.”

The bespectacled official motions to one of the soldiers standing guard nearby.

“Yes, daren?”

He smiles pleasantly.

“Please take out your dick.”

“Daren I—” The man must see something in the official’s expression for he cuts himself off halfway. “Y-yes, of course.”

The guard hands his spear to one of his colleagues before starting to work on his armour and pants. Gloved fingers make quick work of them and in no time, he has his cock out, shifting nervously from side to side as he awaits his next order. Under a single beckoning gesture from the official, the guard steps closer until his cock is right in front of Danfeng’s face.

“See this here?” The bespectacled official motions to the flaccid dick in the guard’s hands. “Shouldn’t one as well educated as yourself be servicing it with elegance and poise, not biting it like some sort of feral animal?”

When Danfeng doesn't move to do as he is suggested to, the official only clicks his tongue at him condescendingly.

“Come to think of it, your dear general has a rather iconic weapon he uses in battle, am I right, Yinyue?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And I hear it was that other traitor you conspired with… Hm, what was his name again? But yes, it was he who made it for your general, much like the weapons of your entire Cloud Quintet.”

“We had it confiscated just in case he decided to try something funny, but if anyone wishes for it, we can bring it out and maybe test it out on the general if you’d like. Wouldn’t it be quite the sight, seeing the great general being penetrated by his own— Oh?”

Danfeng lunges forward, practically throwing himself onto the guard’s cock. The man lets out a yelp from the sudden movement, staggering backwards and nearly falling over. Undeterred by this newfound difference, Danfeng crawls forward awkwardly as much as his immobile tail and hand allow him, pressing his face against the twitching length as he licks over it desperately.

“Aren’t you eager now?” The official gives a little laugh. “See everyone, isn't this method far more effective and civilised than whatever was going on before?”

Everyone laughs along with him nervously.

“But his technique does seem to be quite terrible, unlike someone else,” he says. “How about we let him learn by example?”

For a moment, all the words do is confuse Danfeng’s already exhausted brain. Then the people standing in front of him slowly step aside.

The once neatly arranged tables and chairs on the raised platform the ten judges were sitting at have been pushed to the side, leaving ample space in the centre for a crowd to gather. Past the mass of bodies in various states of nakedness, he can barely make out Jingyuan’s bloodied form.

He looks even worse than Danfeng remembers.

Jingyuan is currently being bounced on someone’s cock, their hands digging harshly into his bruised hips to guide him. His legs are covered with more little cuts and scratches, the area beneath the shackle on his right foot an angry red and swollen. His back is still raw from the whipping, constantly agitated and leaking blood as people come and go, touching him all over. Some spit on him. Many others settle with shooting their loads on his body and face. His once fluffy hair is matted with blood and cum, his face so haggard and pale it makes the bruising on his jaw even more prominent.

They use every part of Jingyuan, from his hair and his face to his chest to the stump of his arms. Not a single bit of his body is spared. His mouth is constantly being stuffed full of cocks. Many more rub themselves on his cheeks and hair. There is even a trickle of cum trickling out from beneath his eyelids. Danfeng doesn't want to imagine what that means.

It looks like Jingyuan is barely conscious. He is unnaturally quiet, his body slouching forward bonelessly and only being held up by the hands gripping onto his hair and arms. If not for the small flinch he makes when someone rubs his bloody nipple that looks like it has been torn off, Danfeng would have thought they were fucking a corpse.

Danfeng thought he had long run out of tears to cry, but somehow his cheeks are wet again.

Jingyuan, please, don't do this to yourself anymore…

Don't let those bastards continue to hurt you any longer. Don't bow down to them. They’re all liars, nothing but liars. They never planned to let me off from the beginning. You can just walk away. Let me be. I deserve to bear this alone.

He mouths the words in desperation, eyes squeezed tightly shut in prayer.

So, please, Jingyuan, If you can somehow hear me…

“... Dan… feng?”

His eyes snap open.

Someone is calling his name.

“Is that you?”

It must be his imagination. Jingyuan is blind. Danfeng is mute. These unseeable and unspeakable evils… There is no way for Jingyuan to know that he is here. 

“It’s you… right?”

Jingyuan somehow manages to rid himself of all the hands tangled in his hair, freeing his two arms to pull himself off the man thrusting into him from below. He falls forward immediately, body shaking as he struggles to crawl towards Danfeng’s general direction. His head turns from side to side wildly as if trying to find Danfeng through a fog of endless darkness. The hands that try to stop him are smacked aside heedlessly. Not even the ones that dig into the gashes on his back seem to deter him in the slightest.

“Why won’t you say anything?” His voice cracks in the middle. “Why are you here? You can’t— You shouldn't be here—”  

His face is slammed into the ground.

“Alright, that’s enough.” The youngest of the judges has an annoyed look on his face as he tightens his grip on Jingyuan’s hair. “Haven't you learned your lesson from before, General? Must we really pull your tongue out before you’ll stop saying that traitor’s name?”

“...”

“Oh.” The judge gingerly lifts Jingyuan’s head off the ground. “Did I use too much strength?”

Jingyuans face is a mess. His nose is clearly shattered, gushing blood like a broken faucet. More runs down his face from his forehead in a slow trickle. But more important is how he doesn't move. His entire body has gone still.

Jingyuan?

The man shakes him. Jingyuan doesn't respond.

More people gather around his fallen body. They argue back and forth, the judge who still has his hand in Jingyuan’s hair shouting something unintelligible.

Jingyuan, do something.

Someone places their hand on his neck to take his pulse.

Say something… Anything!

The person says something to the anxiously waiting crowd. Whatever it is, it seems to dispel the tension in the air. A few of them break out into smiles while others let out exclamations of annoyance. Only one or two seem to get cold feet, stepping away with unease clear on their faces.

While it is likely that Jingyuan is only unconscious from their reactions, somehow that doesn't make Danfeng relieved in the slightest. If anything, watching the men casually pick Jingyuan up and continue to fuck him from where they left off only leads him to understand a cold, hard truth.

Even if they didn't kill him this time, Jingyuan would die sooner or later under their careless disregard. And once a human dies, they are dead for good. A human like Jingyuan can't reincarnate like the Vidyahara.

Jingyuan is going to die.

He is going to die.

Danfeng thrashes, struggling for the first time in what feels like forever. He tears through the knife in his hand and tail, ignoring the crippling agony as blood splatters all over the people around him.

Yingxing! Your Jingyuan is going to die! I can't save him… I can’t do anything… I can't do anything but watch him suffer!

He snarls like some sort of feral animal. His hair whips around him with a life of his own. He can feel his blood bubbling, energy rippling just beneath his skin.

Yingxing! Do you not love him anymore!?

But of course, Yingxing would not be coming to save Jingyuan. He probably hates them, if he even remembers them to begin with.

No one is coming to help them. Jingyuan is going to die and Danfeng would be the cause of it all.

Something cracks inside him. A trickle of power, slow at first but quickly growing in strength, begins to leak out. He feels it pool on his skin, radiating off himself in strands of wispy turquoise mist.

Panicked screams and shouts erupt around him. They are too insignificant for him to care about. The shackles on him begin to glow, the broken horns on his head slowly reforming themselves. His tail whips around, scales flashing with an iridescent sheen. The presences around him rapidly back off, but they are not quite fast enough.

He hears it clearly, a crisp little clinking sound as the shackles fall off him. The seals etched deep into him melt off into nothingness. Suddenly, there is nothing holding him back.

The people around him are blasted away.

A tranquil rain begins to fall. Little drips and drops of turquoise platter against every surface of the hall. Like a spring shower that drizzles down despite the shining sun, the gentle fall washes everything clean of all feelings and sorrow.

Danfeng basks in its midst, an unnatural source of calm in contrast to the swirling waters ripping everything around him into shreds. The roar of a dragon. Quickly blooming lotuses. His hands move slowly, deliberately, guiding the water to crush all that would oppose him. He watches as countless bodies are swept away. Many more lie unmoving where he leaves them. There is one in particular, clothed in dark official robes with glasses bent out of shape, that he pays special attention to. Danfeng makes sure his end is slow and torturous, squeezing all the air out of his lungs until he finally expires.

He coughs out a mouthful of blood. More gushes down from his nose. It feels like he is being torn apart at the core, having ripped through something he should never have touched. His body doesn't heal as expected. If anything, it only seems to fall apart faster, blood leaking from his every orifice even as his body burns with unnatural heat. But Danfeng doesn't care. All he knows is that this newfound strength is something he needs. And whatever the price, he would gladly pay.

Countless weapons fly in his direction only to be deflected by the shield of water that forms around him. Danfeng eyes his adversaries with disdain, mouth pressed into a flat line.

Weak. Pathetic. Cowards. All they knew how to do was to take advantage of others' misfortunes, feasting upon weakness and misery. What good were any of them? Without the careful guidance of Jingyuan and protection from the Cloud Quintet, they would have long run the alliance to the ground.

Xianzhou was better off without them. He would crush them all. No one would ever hurt Jingyuan again.

Danfeng raises his arm. The movement he makes with his hand seal looks almost benevolent. The water in the room surges, the fall of rain suddenly intensifying. A sudden stray thought occurs with him just as the coalescing water reaches its peak.

Would this really make Jingyuan happy?

Blood sprays across the ground.

Danfeng staggers.

Oh, that is a blade going through his chest. And another, and another and—

His body erupts in agony.

In the blink of an eye, the once oppressive mass of power evaporates into nothing. The swirling water falls with a crash, lying stagnant on the ground in the form of scattered puddles. Whatever energy that kept Danfeng going rapidly dissipates, leaving him feeling even more hollow than ever.

Arrows and blades pierce his chest. More go through his legs. One manages to nick off a finger or two. His stomach turns into a sea of never ending red and pain, the three spears that go through him skewering him firmly to the ground. They are the only things keeping him standing at the moment, his body crumbling like a puppet with its strings cut.

His mind clears, the crippling agony forcing him back to reality.

What is he thinking trying to kill everyone? Has he finally gone mad like Yingxing and Jingliu?

Once upon a time, he made an oath with four others to protect Xianzhou from all its enemies. Their people would be safe under their watch, never having to experience the pain of loss from war again. And now those people are all scattered to the wind, fallen from grace - faded into fumes.

Jingyuan would be so disappointed in him for even having such thoughts. He always loved their people and country the most out of all of them.

Jingyuan…

He needs to get to Jingyuan.

Newfound strength surges through him. First, he pulls out the arrows and swords going through his legs. Their length and bulk would make it difficult to walk. Next, he drags himself off the long spears pinning him to the ground. The process is long and agonising; he probably ruptures several of his organs in the process. Soon the area around him is drenched in his blood, with more gushing liberally from the many holes in his body.

Then, Danfeng finally begins to move.

A shaky step.

He places another foot in front of himself.

He needs to get to Jingyuan.

Nobody tries to stop him. Danfeng doesn't know if it is due to lingering fear towards his powers, or they simply know he is practically a dead man on his last breath.

Move. Move. Forward. Move.

His vision dims. Darkness encroaches. Danfeng can feel his life draining away drop by drop as blood continues to pour out of him onto the floor. For the first time in his life, it dawns on him in excruciating clarity what it means to die.

Danfeng is going to forget. He is going to forget it all. He is going to forget Jingyuan and all he did for him.

I…

He drags himself forward. Jingyuan is lying there right in front of him. His body is so very still.

He needs to get to Jingyuan.

I don't want to forget.

The cold marble floor is wet and slippery beneath him. His tail is a dead weight behind him, trailing limply against the ground.

I don't want to forget.

Blood leaks from his mouth. He coughs. More takes its place.

I don't want to forget you, Jingyuan…

Danfeng stumbles, dropping to his knees.

… not in this life, not in the next!

His arms buckle under his weight, but hold for now.

This life filled with turmoil, this moment of staggering agony, all his mistakes and regrets, Danfeng can't bear to let go. His mind might be in tatters, his pride nonexistent from all he has gone through, but he still doesn't want to forget this life. For all the bad there was also the good, this tender love that he always cradled between his palms and held close to his heart. Danfeng doesn't want to forget. He doesn't want to forget the warmth of his brilliant sun.

I can't forget you. I won't forget you. I’ll never forget you, Jingyuan!

I won't forget, I won’t!

Danfeng begins to crawl. The hall is oddly silent.

Everything feels so heavy. His hair and body are dripping with blood. The lights above him are simultaneously too bright and dim. The pain is gone now, replaced with an apathetic sort of numbness. His mind is blank. There is only one thought left in him now.

He needs to get to Jingyuan.

Just one more time, just one last time, Danfeng wants to touch Jingyuan once more. He’s so close. Just a little more and they can be together again.

But fate has a cruel trick up its sleeves. His body chooses this moment to give up on him. Danfeng slams into the ground, his legs and arms giving out under him. The cold marble is hard and unforgiving. The swords running through his torso are jostled from the impact. His blood is slick under his skin.

Danfeng very nearly doesn't get up again. But eventually he does, using his arms to drag himself forward instead. One works better than the other. Perhaps he broke it earlier. He doesn't really remember. His thoughts are muddied, every move he makes sluggish and unsure. Danfeng doesn't quite know what he is doing anymore. He just knows that he needs to get to Jingyuan.

But he is fighting a losing battle. His fingers spasm. His limbs stop responding. He can feel his heart slowing gradually, the once heated rush of blood through his veins quickly cooling and stagnating.

Just a little more… He is so close that Danfeng can practically feel Jingyuan’s bloodied skin under his touch. So please, he just needs to hang on for a little more—

Danfeng’s hands close around thin air.

He blinks. Jingyuan is so far away and high up above, his limp body sprawled lifelessly under the many hands of faceless figures. They are still using Jingyuan roughly, taunting Danfeng with the consequences of all his mistakes. The illusion fades.

He needs to…

…

Ah.

He had simply been deluding himself.

He never was going to make it.

…

Ah… Ahahahaha… hahahah… ha…

…

Danfeng slumps to the ground. All strength leaves him. He can't move anymore. Everything suddenly feels very, very far away.

Jingyuan…

…

…

His eyes dim.

… Jingyuan…

A wet exhale.

…

I’m… sorry…

…

A twitch.

… Jing…

…

Icy coldness.

…

…

yuan…

…

…

…

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