Yao Yuxuan's sea of consciousness was in a state of unbearable inconsistency. His mind, usually sharp and focused, was now a churning maelstrom, a storm of thoughts and sensations he couldn't control. He tried multiple times to anchor himself in reality, to find something solid in the chaos, but it was useless. The feeling of warm hands roughly grasping his face, the faint sound of someone calling out to him—these sensations ached at the back of his mind, like distant echoes of a world slipping away from him. But they weren't strong enough to rouse him from the darkness, swallowing him whole.
"The wounds I sustained were great," he thought angrily, frustration bubbling up within him like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Let me fucking die already!" The bitterness of his thoughts was a stark contrast to the helplessness he felt, trapped in his own body, unable to escape the pain.
He had long since resigned his life to the servitude of others, a fate he had accepted without question. But the idea of being kept by the demon as some kind of slave, to be used and discarded at the demon's whim, really drove him mad. The thought gnawed at him, a festering wound that deepened his despair. He wouldn't allow it. He would kill himself if he had to before he let that happen. Though he had been too incapacitated to digest the demands and accusations that Snowfall had been making in his discourse with the emperor, he was sure it insinuated nothing good. He didn't need to understand the words to know that whatever the demon lord wanted would lead to nothing but suffering.
Just as his train of thought started to race with unbridled rage, the anger burning through the haze that clouded his mind suddenly became muddled again. His thoughts tangled together like a knot of thorns, and a massive wave of pain overtook him once more. His skull pounded as if a hammer was being driven into his brain, the sensation so intense that it made his unconscious body nauseous. Though he wasn't aware of it, his body reacted, and he started to retch blood all over Snowfall's robes for the third time since the demon had taken him away.
"What the hell?! Can't you fucking heal!" the demon cursed angrily, his voice sharp and filled with disdain. He shoved the slumbering cultivator off of him again, his eyes burning dangerously as he looked down at Yao Yuxuan with a mixture of frustration and disgust. "How useless can you be!"
Yao Yuxuan's head, heavy with the weight of his agony, of long black hair, hit the side of the small palanquin they were riding in, evoking a pained groan from deep in his chest. The impact jarred his brain, and with it, memories started to bubble up and resurface at the front of Yao Yuxuan's mind. It was as if the pain had unlocked a door in his consciousness, and suddenly, he was reliving moments from his past, replaying before his eyes as though he were experiencing them fresh again.
He was 14 years old. It had only been a few months since he had started maintaining the imperial palace's barrier. He could still remember the sense of pride and the weight of responsibility that had settled on his young shoulders. But this was a night he would never forget, as it was the very first time he had ever truly feared for his life.
He was sitting quietly in his place on Qinyang Cliff, his usual meditation spot, leisurely playing the tune that enhanced the shield. The melody was soft and serene, a lullaby that wove through the air like a gentle breeze. It was a day like every other, and until then, there hadn't been any issues with anything attempting to penetrate it, and the last two months had been peaceful and uneventful, a rarity in his line of work.
That day, however, his solace was permanently demolished. The peace he had known was shattered instantly, like glass under a hammer. It was deep in the middle of winter, and the earth was covered in a thin layer of frost that sparkled under the sun's pale light. Dark clouds rolled in over the passing day, heavy with the promise of snow, and by dusk, the first flakes had begun to fall, covering the world in a blanket of white. Yao Yuxuan could see his breath in the cold air; each exhaled a puff of mist that hung in the stillness. If it weren't for a small array that he had cast over himself to keep warm, he would have been shivering from the cold.
As the sun began to set behind the rolling hills beyond the cliff, Yao Yuxuan suddenly felt his heart churn. It was a strange sensation, a twisting in his chest that he had never felt before. Something was actually attacking his barrier, and it wasn't a small attack either. The force behind it was immense, powerful enough to send shockwaves through his body.
He rose to his feet with his red-wood zither floating in front of him, the instrument humming with the spiritual energy he channeled through it, and strode to the cliff's edge to investigate the source of the disturbance. What could be powerful enough to interrupt his barrier? Even the strongest of the elders back in the Hichuan Sect hadn't held a candle to his barrier technique, so he couldn't fathom what kind of abominable creature could be waiting for him on the other side of his shield.
What he saw when he stood at the edge and looked downward nearly made him drop the barrier out of shock. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he might be seeing things.
A child?!
A young man who couldn't be more than 9 or 10 years old stood at the barrier's edge, his small hand glowing with deep purple light as it rested against the shield's surface. He wore all white, with a hood pulled over his head and covering the upper half of his face, giving him an almost ghostly appearance. Each pulsation of light from the child's hand into his barrier fired all of Yao Yuxuan's pain receptors. Such overwhelming power… was coming from this little runt?
Yao Yuxuan didn't know what hurt worse, the attacks against his core or his ego that was being damaged from the knowledge that he was about to be bested by a fucking kid. The realization that this child, barely more than a boy, possessed such power was a blow to his pride that stung deeply.
Rage boiled up inside him, a hot, seething anger that threatened to consume him. He had always excelled at everything, especially in terms of power. He had been on the road to becoming a prodigy! If the little demon runt wanted to fight, then they would fight. There was no way he would allow himself to be humiliated like this, not by a child.
Yao Yuxuan gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he pulled his silk mask up to his nose, securing it behind his ears. The Emperor had commanded that he always wear the mask when facing others so that no one could see his likeness to Han Yiran. Under such dire circumstances, he ensured that he would obey even the smallest of His Majesty's commands. Han Yiran's safety would always come first, no matter the cost to himself.
He hopped onto his sword and rushed to where the kid was, not once stopping the barrier's song. The wind whipped through his hair as he flew, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of fear and anger. When he arrived, he walked confidently toward the hooded figure, each step purposeful, until there was nothing but the thin line of the magical surface between them.
"Who are you, and what do you want?!" Yao Yuxuan demanded, his thin brows furrowed, his voice edged with the authority of someone who was used to being obeyed.
The child seemed surprised to see him. He took his hand off the barrier, crossed his arms, and looked up at Yao Yuxuan with a devilish grin, a smile that sent a shiver down Yao Yuxuan's spine. "I'm here to play."
Yao Yuxuan was flabbergasted. Of all the things he had expected, this was not one of them. "T-to… play?"
"Mn." The boy nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Come out, let's play."
The small figure's nonchalance and overconfidence made Yao Yuxuan red with rage. His face flushed with anger, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. "Fine. Let's play."
Yao Yuxuan placed his zither down on the inside of the barrier and cast a spell on it to continue playing without him, then drew his sword. The blade gleamed in the fading light, its edge sharp and ready. He gripped the handle tightly, his knuckles white with the force of it, and stepped out of the protective shield, preparing to fight with the child in white. His heart raced, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he readied for the battle ahead.
He had no idea at the time that it would be his first and last time drawing his sword for actual combative purposes. The thought never crossed his mind, so sure was he of his strength.