Chapter 18
I ordered Feilin to go find her mother, then bolted back to the village.
The Xiatang marketplace was in utter disarray.
Stalls had been overturned, oil and water spilled across the ground from fallen woks, bruised produce lay dismally in the streets, and startled goats scampered in search of safety.
Similarly, residents ran, frantic, from the destruction, pausing only when far enough away to observe the heart of the chaos.
I followed their attention to an abandoned cart, whose back wheel had splintered like a hobbled leg. Behind it was a storefront in the midst of renovations, its wooden scaffold appearing just as in danger of fracturing.
But what really made my heart stop was the sight of Ren crumpled against the cart, a thread of blood trailing from the side of his head, his talisman gone.
And there, standing across from him, was Master Zhang.
His appearance had changed drastically. Gray-white hair now hung, unkempt, down his back.
The fabric of his robe was faded, dark-brown stains soaking his sleeves and hems. He turned his head slightly, revealing eyes that had sunk into the darkness of his pupils, the shadows spreading out to his ashen cheeks like cracks across clay.
The inhumanness of his face reminded me of Chunhua, vicious and impenetrable.
When I blinked, flashes of his memories—fire and shouting and horse hooves slamming into the earth—interrupted my vision.
“Stop!” I shouted, rushing forward.
But the spirit didn’t bother to face me. He stood impassively, watching as a stray rope crawled out from the wreck and floated over to Ren’s debilitated form. Compelled by an invisible force, the rope wrapped around his neck, its ends pulling upward—
“I said stop!” Instinctively, I scooped a handful of glutinous rice from my bag and flung it at Master Zhang’s back.
With a hiss, he disappeared, the rope falling from Ren’s throat.
I raced to Ren’s side, reaching for his face as I crouched beside him.
“Ren.” I shook him gently, his blood smearing my fingers. The situation reminded me, nauseatingly, of when my father had collapsed at home. My pulse thundered in my ears. “Ren, speak to me.”
He cracked one eye open, his mouth screwed into a grimace. “That hurts.”
“Sorry,” I gasped, loosening my hold. I gingerly brushed back his hair, searching for the wound. “Where are you injured?”
“Oh, everywhere, it feels. But it isn’t anything I’m not already used to.” His eye fluttered shut again as his consciousness waned. “Just give me … a moment … to catch my breath.”
“You can’t stay here.” I eyed the hazards around us and started reaching into my bag for a Fu talisman to replace the one he’d lost. “We must get you away before Master Zhang returns—”
As if conjured by my unease, the spirit’s voice sounded from behind. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”
I straightened and stepped in front of Ren, my peach staff pointed at Master Zhang. Though his hands were hidden inside his sleeves, I knew he could attack without making the slightest twitch. I tried not to flinch beneath his eyeless stare—or the wintry darkness enveloping the town.
“You’re angry at the wrong person,” I snapped. “Ren isn’t your enemy.”
“No?” Master Zhang sneered, the sound of bone cracking as he pointed an accusatory finger at Ren. “He’s just like the rest of his selfish family, coming here to take what doesn’t belong to him and making false promises.”
“They’re not false promises—not yet. And Ren is nothing like his family. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Master Zhang snarled, “Then you’ve been blinded by his silver tongue. Do you know who led the army against our lost men? It was the eldest prince himself. He personally ensured that those men would never speak again. What do you think will happen if I let this boy free?”
I froze at Master Zhang’s words. Liqin, the man Ren would choose to be king, had slaughtered those citizens of Xiatang? He was the one responsible for all this grief?
But Ren wasn’t like that. Not at all. Perhaps he was ignorant of his brother’s crimes, but he wasn’t cruel.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, meeting Master Zhang’s gaze, his fury burning through the black chasms of his eyes. “But even if what you say is true, those were the actions of another, not Ren. You can’t judge him for something he didn’t do.”
“It’s what he may do that worries me,” he said, advancing toward me. “Now move aside, priestess, unless you want to be caught in the cross fire.”
I spread out my arms, gesturing at the damage around us. “You’ve already brought innocents into the cross fire, Master Zhang! Look at what your anger has done. Look at your own people. They’re terrified!”
As I spoke, a puzzle piece clicked into place in my head. I reexamined the men, women, and children trembling behind windows, around corners. They stared back, their eyes wide with confusion and alarm. But there was something else, another emotion clinging to their wearied frames—anguish.
The same anguish I sensed from Master Zhang.
What did that mean?
“They’re safe,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m here to protect them. Once I rid our town of the liar’s son, things will return to normal. Now, I won’t repeat myself again: Move aside.”
“No.” I gripped my staff with both hands. Smiling grimly, I added, “You do understand the concept of no, don’t you, sir?”
Enraged, he took control of a nearby crate and hurled it at my head. I ducked, and the box shattered against one of the scaffold’s columns, drawing a groan from the already compromised structure. My eyes dropped to Ren. We couldn’t stay there for much longer.
But before I could grab him, Master Zhang pitched another stray object at me—a dented wok. I blocked it with my arm, the metal slamming hard against my bone. The impact vibrated up to my hairline, making me wince. I had the morbid thought that this journey might cost every one of my limbs.
“I drowned an entire army,” he said, stamping his foot in a puddle. The water rose from between the cobbled stones, attracting the other liquids in the vicinity until it became one massive brown wave beside him. “Do you think I won’t do the same to you?”
“You killed those men in self-defense,” I said, my arm throbbing. “If you kill us today, your soul will be condemned to heavenly punishment.”
“I’ll do what I must.”
I flung myself on top of Ren’s body as Master Zhang’s wave enveloped us.
The water was heavy enough to press the air from my lungs, the world suddenly silent and cold and dark.
Though I flung out my arms, the weight never abated, trapping us fully.
I waited for it to end, for the water to pour past me.
It didn’t.
Whatever Master Zhang was doing, he was keeping his promise to drown us. And if I didn’t figure out a way to escape, he’d succeed.
I shoved my hand into my bag, feeling for a round, smooth gourd. I pulled it out, my arm moving slowly in the water, and yanked off the cork. Chicken’s blood spilled from the opening, the nauseating taste of iron sliding past my lips.
But the unnatural energy holding the water together evaporated, causing the liquid to crash back down to the ground. I breathed greedily, grateful for the frigid air filling my lungs.
Ren coughed in my arms, both of us soaked through. I pounded his back to get out the remaining water, then turned to glare at Master Zhang.
“That’s enough!” Fury simmered beneath my frozen skin.
Ren had nearly died—again—because of him.
I stood and marched toward the spirit, reaching into my bag once more.
“I’ve tried to reason with you, to give you a choice.
But since you’ve chosen to behave like the evil spirit others believe you to be, I’ve no option but to purify you—willing or not. ”
I brought out a purification talisman, prepared to slap it on his chest.
But I was interrupted by a voice crying, “Mistress Kang, please don’t!”
I looked away from Master Zhang to see Li Feilin kneeling near Ren, hands pressed together in supplication. She looked as if she’d just shoved her way through the wreckage. A cut scraped her cheek, and her clothes were stained with dirt, but she appeared otherwise uninjured.
“Please,” she repeated, locking eyes with me. “Master Zhang isn’t evil. He’s only concerned about our town. Please don’t hurt him.”
I stared at Feilin, the pieces in my mind shifting again.
I glanced at Master Zhang, who was also distracted by the interruption, then turned back to Feilin.
The anguish I’d noticed before wasn’t only similar—it was all from the same source.
I gazed around at the town once more, noting the deepened exhaustion on the residents’ faces, an exhaustion that had grown worse during Master Zhang’s onslaught.
The answer to my suspicions became glaringly obvious.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I said. “But he’s hurting you, in more ways than one.”
Master Zhang scoffed. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”
“Look at her!” I blurted, gesturing at Feilin. “Look at all of them! See how thin and weak they are? It’s all because of you, Master Zhang! You’ve taken advantage of their grief and used it to sustain your own power. You’re killing the very people you profess to love.”
The spiderweb lines of his face darkened. He surveyed the people watching from the edges, then met Feilin’s bewildered gaze. Shaking his head, he muttered, “No, you’re wrong, priestess. You’re lying again, to get what you want.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “I’m not lying. Spirits are trapped—and strengthened—by their pain. When you died, you not only used your anger to kill those soldiers, but you also fed off the anger and grief of the people around you. Perhaps you didn’t know it, but surely you can feel it.”
“Enough!”