A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter 40: The Truth

Jian Yue and the grotesque figure faced each other. He was still for a few moments, then the figure lifted its leg and lunged forward. Its mismatched hand reached for Jian Yue’s throat.

He stepped aside, his blade slashing through the dog’s head. It hung from its shoulder by a strip of rotten flesh.

"I can’t spare more time." Jian Yue murmured, his eyes narrowed around, trying to see if anyone else was coming. The thing launched forward.

Jian Yue sidestepped and swung his blade. Before the sword touched the thing’s arm, he whispered, "Interval."

The strings controlling that figure tightened, reflecting the light. At that moment, the construct froze. The threads moved and tried to pull the thing back, but it went utterly still.

Jian Yue moved in the silence and disappeared from its sight. In the two seconds of its stillness, Jian Yue stepped around it and swung the blade at the strings, cutting them off. Then he drove the blade through its skull and split it vertically in two pieces.

Swoosh

Two halves of the grotesque figure landed on the ground. No blood came out of its body; instead, there was just pure rotten meat, ribs, and bones.

The scent of decay grew stronger. Jian Yue stepped back. On the ground, the severed strings remained still. His eyes followed the threads still attached to the walls.

"How did it move without a puppeteer?" Jian Yue’s gaze swept the walls, and he understood. "A security..." He turned and looked at the hole that was there a moment ago.

He knelt beside where the hole had been. He pressed his arm against the stone, then stood and scanned the hallway.

"There must be a way."

The portraits on the wall were still watching, their painted eyes following his movement as if to mock him.

Below him, Zhuo’s hand was bleeding. The blood dripped on the ground, leaving stains behind him. His hand reached for his pocket and took out a handkerchief. He wrapped the cloth around his wound, tight enough to stop the bleeding. His lips pressed together forcefully.

The man is gone. He thought while running through the corridors. He opened a door and peeked inside–a completely empty room. He opened another, where dead animal flesh rested. Zhuo quickly shut the door.

Was he a Royal Guard? He was strong enough to be one. Does that mean there are more of them...? But why?

Zhuo walked through corridors, deep in his thoughts. Then it finally hit him. The horrific realization. He remembered Lin’s words about the power system of a cult. Only one royal guard in each of their palaces. It was unlikely for two guards or even more to be in the same palace... unless.

***

Back in the temple, the sun prepared to rest.

Mo Fei leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers.

"Why are you acting anxious?" Lin asked.

In response, Mo Fei looked at her casually and said, "What? I’m not."

"Quit that fidgeting then." Lin stared blankly, her expression calm, though her fist clenched.

Mo Fei darted his gaze between Lin and his fingers, tapping his arm. He moved his hand away and looked outside. "It had been almost ten hours," he said. "And they haven’t returned."

Lin listened to it, her eyes following his gaze.

Yi Jyuhan heard it and said, "In misfortune, time works differently. Stories say one hour there passes, then returns to the past hour, and moves fast. It’s a loop with acceleration." He shrugged, then noticed Mo Fei’s expression, an awkward, pursed lipped and one eye narrowed.

"Is it my face? That mystery is nothing compared to how I stay so handsome. You don’t have to admire me that much, hahah." Yi Jyuhan chuckled and fanned his face with his fan.

Lin snorted and looked at the kids sipping the tea. Xin Yi picked up a cookie and then snapped it into pieces to ate eat hem one by one. Hao Yu kept eating fast as if the food would disappear soon. Well, eventually it would if he were eating that fast.

Mo Fei gave Yi Jyuhan a disgusted look. "That is the last thing I would think to do." He paused and then whispered in sarcastic tone. "Though, I was wondering...where is the Cursed Womb actually?"

Yi Jyuhan stopped fanning and thought for a few seconds. "Most likely in the Fleshweaver cult’s main palace."

Mo Fei nodded. "Time flows fast in Misfortune, right?"

"Yeah? And?"

Mo Fei grinned slightly, taunting Yi Jyuhan. "If I were Curator, I’d have put that thing in the Misfortune for a fast grow–"

Both of them stopped and looked at each other.

Yi Jyuhan smacked his hand on the ground. "How did I miss the most important thing!"

Lin’s voice followed next. "We have less time than we had anticipated."

***

Zhuo’s steps stopped as the realization hit him. "Royal Guards are here. Almost as if they are here to protect something."

The wind reached him. His hair flowed in the air before the wind went silent. He sprinted to find a way to reach Jian Yue and tell him everything that had been going on.

Above him, Jian Yue ran through the hallway. His movement unusually fast. Hiding his presence, he found the stairs. He looked around, then he descended. The air grew colder. The smell of blood intensified as he moved down; he saw a few puppets leaning against the tables. He entered the underground lair.

Meanwhile, Zhuo reached a large gateway decorated with roots and leaves. His hand traced the gate. The metal was cold as ice, then above him, he saw two marks embedded in the door.

Fleshweaver cult’s mark.

He had seen the same mark on the back of the mistress. Zhuo put his hands on the gate and braced himself; then, with force, he opened the gate. The light departed from the gate; it slowly opened as he pushed it. Darkness receded from the gate as it slowly opened enough to enter. A glow emerged from its edges.

Inside, a large room came into his view, overgrown with trees. Their branches and roots covered the whole room as if it were a garden.

In the very center of the room, a large tree with its peak reaching the ceiling loomed ahead. Its leaves had been carved into a rectangular shape. In a few leaves, wasp-like creatures without wings sat there, eating the leaves. As they ate the leaves, their stomachs grew and burst. New wingless wasps emerged from the wreckage and continued that process.

Then, Zhuo’s eyes finally landed on a figure hanging from the tree. He moved closer.

He saw a woman hanging on the tree, her hands and legs bound by the roots and her face hidden behind her hair. But the most unusual thing was her belly. Her stomach was bulging abnormally more than it should. Inside her belly, something moved. Not like the kicking of a child, but something different, as if the thing... were distorting her organs?

She was barely breathing; her chest was moving but pausing for a few seconds before exhaling.

Zhuo heard that jagged, broken exhale. It was a person. The horror in his gut shifted to a sharp, profound ache of pity. For a moment he had forgotten about the mark and wasps. He could only imagine her face, twisted in pain. He took a few steps forward, then moved back.

Even though she was a human in pain, he couldn’t take the risk yet...

His hands hovered near the roots, wanting to tear them. But the sight of the thing shifting beneath her skin made his fingers lock up.

"No, it won’t help. It’ll only make things worse." He looked at her bulging stomach. "This is the Cursed Womb?" He turned to walk away, then he heard a muffled cry. When he looked over his shoulder, the woman tilted her head slightly and looked at him. She asked for help.

"Help. Me. Ple.. Please."

Zhuo’s gaze dropped to the ground... he couldn’t decide.

***

The mistress walked out of her room. She had found the location of Xue Lan. Her gaze fell on the bat moving its wings in her hands, then she threw it away, and pushed open the inner door; ahead, the front gate swung wide.

Xue Lan pushed the heavy iron gates. From the darkness beyond the gate. The lantern’s flames caught his frame, tracing his silhouette with a thin, flickering halo of light. His shadow stretched toward her.

The mistress snapped her fingers, and the lantern flames of the room ignited. The silhouette disappeared, revealing the man’s face.

Xue Lan took a step forward. His moths were nowhere to be seen. He looked at the mistress, her pale face unveiled. Both of them stared at each other for a few seconds. Then the mistress spoke.

"A dreamer." She tilted her head slightly. "I haven’t killed one of your kind in years."

Xue Lan gave a thin, sharp smile. "You never killed my kind." He paused and noticed the strings forming on the tips of her fingers. "You can only kill those imitations, those who had authority but had never learned their dreams."

The mistress’s blank face tracked his every micro-movement as if a simple blink could cost her. "Illusions won’t save you, dreamer."

"Dreams are not illusions." He walked forward. Her eyes scanned him, her body poised to strike. "Illusions are lies you tell others, and dreams are the truth only you know." He tilted his head, mirroring her gesture.

"You talk like you know me." She pulled her hand. The puppets made of flesh came out of the ground.

Xue Lan’s lips curled up into a smile. His eyes glittered as he stopped in his tracks. "I’ve watched your every trick." He raised his hand. The puppet appeared at the same place from the ground. His hand clenched its neck before he ripped its head from its spine.

The mistress looked at him and then raised her hand. Strings tightened in the air like a blade. "Those moths were yours. You thought I’d never know that? You are just an ordinal 7, pathetically weak."

She shot the threads toward Xue Lan’s throat. He stayed there, the thread went through him; his figure flickered and then reformed.

Illusion...

The Mistress’s eyes narrowed. From behind her a voice came. "Ordinal seven, huh? Aren’t you supposed to be the mind of your cult? How did you not know to never attack a dreamer first?" The Mistress spun; Xue Lan was behind her, leaning against a pillar.

"That’s why I despise dreamers. Annoying bastards."

"I told you. My kind doesn’t stand where you can reach."

The Mistress launched her threads; the hit landed, but his figure disappeared into moths. They flew toward the walls and disappeared inside them.

"Coward," the Mistress scoffed. "Can’t you stop hiding? Where are your strong words that promised to kill me?"

Xue Lan appeared behind her again. "My, my, so impatient. Why so desperate to die?"

She looked over her shoulder. "Every authority has a cost. I’ll see how long your cheap tricks will let you live."

She raised both of her hands; from the ground, a dozen of her puppets emerged. Their threads attached to the walls. Xue Lan scanned them and finally prepared himself.

Yet what she had missed was the moths quietly kept emerging from his shadows, flying toward the walls and merging with them.

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