The Last Dual-Cultivator

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

The passage beyond the burned chamber ran downhill for a long way, growing steeper with every pace, until Yan Shuo had to brace one hand hard against the rough rock wall just to keep from sliding.

The threads of the vein grew thicker as they went. Up in gallery seven, they had been faint grey lines in the stone, barely brighter than the rock around them. Down here, they ran in braided cords as thick as his wrist, webbed densely across the walls and ceiling, glowing a soft green that lit the tunnel well enough to see by. The air was warm and heavy, tasting sharply of old iron. With every step, the slow pulse in the bedrock grew louder, until he could feel it vibrating through the soles of his boots.

Lanying walked close behind him with one hand twisted tightly into the back of his robe. She had stopped shaking. He thought that frightened her far more than the shaking had.

”How much farther?” she asked quietly.

”The passage ends in a cavern,” he said. ”Steward Hao calls it the root. The old miners believed the vein started down there, before it branched up through the mountain. Nobody has worked it in fifty years because the air used to be foul, yet the fire burned most of that out.”

”And the brand?”

She held up her left wrist. The red glow beneath the white leather bracer had shrunk to a single, faint point, so dim he had to look twice to be certain it was there at all.

’Deep enough,’ Qin Wuyue murmured in his mind. ’He can’t feel her now. He knows she’s in the mine, and that is all he knows.’

Yan Shuo let out a long, slow breath.

”He’s lost you,” he told Lanying. ”He knows you’re somewhere down here, yet he can’t tell where.”

”Then he’ll search every tunnel until he finds us.”

”There are a great many tunnels on level nine, and he doesn’t know a single one of them. By the time he’s searched half, it will be dawn, and the morning shift will come down to find the chain snapped and the Chi heir setting fire to the sect’s mine in the dead of night.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder. ”He can’t explain that to the Sect Master. He’ll have to leave before first light.”

She looked at him for a long moment in the eerie green glow.

”You’ve thought about this.”

”I’ve had six years to think about how to hide in this mine,” he said. ”I simply never imagined I’d be hiding the Frost Lotus Fairy.”

She made a small, breathless sound that was very nearly a laugh.

The narrow passage opened into the root.

It was larger than he remembered: a round, high-roofed cavern, its stone walls so thickly webbed with the vein’s green cords that the rock itself seemed to be woven from light. In the very center of the floor, a column of raw grey-green crystal rose straight up from the stone like the trunk of a petrified tree, wider than three men could reach around, pulsing slowly with its own dim luminance. Every single thread of the vein in the walls ran directly into it.

The first time he had come down here, a week after Elder Gu assigned him to the deep shaft, he had laid his palm against that crystal column—and felt the starving vein reach back for him so hungrily that he had fled up the passage without his lantern.

Lanying stopped at the mouth of the cavern and stared.

”It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

”It’s dying,” Yan Shuo said quietly. ”You measured it yourself. A year left, perhaps less.”

She walked slowly toward the center of the floor and stopped a few paces from the column, looking up at the pale, towering crystal with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

”So this is what the sect is selling me for,” she murmured softly. ”This, and a fresh one to replace it.”

He came to stand beside her. He didn’t say anything. There were no words in the world that would have helped.

They stood there together in the quiet green light, listening to the vein’s slow, heavy heartbeat, and for a little while, the hollow mountain was completely still.

The heat reached them before the light did.

It came rolling down the steep passage behind them in a slow, suffocating wave. The air in the root cavern grew warmer by a breath, and then by another. The sickly green glow along the walls took on a faint, bleeding edge of orange.

Lanying spun around. Her face had gone chalk-white.

”He found the passage,” she said.

’He’s following the heat of his own fire back to where the drafts die,’ Qin hissed sharply. ’Every tunnel he burns tells him which ones are empty. He’s clever, brat. Cleverer than you hoped.’

Yan Shuo caught Lanying’s arm, pulled her back toward the far wall of the cavern behind the crystal column, and pressed her into the shadow of the rock.

”Can you seal the tunnel mouth?”

”He’ll burn straight through it.”

”It’ll slow him down, atleast.”

She lifted both hands toward the mouth of the passage and exhaled. Frost poured from her palms in a thick, roaring white stream, filling the narrow stone throat from floor to ceiling, layer over layer, until a plug of blue-white ice as thick as a man’s height stood between them and the advancing fire.

It held for twenty breaths.

Then the ice began to glow from the far side—dull orange, then bright gold, then white. Meltwater streamed down its inner face in scalding sheets. With a sudden, shrieking hiss of steam, a hole the size of a fist punched clean through the center. The hole widened. Fire poured through the breach.

Chi Yao stepped into the root cavern through a billow of white steam, flames curling lazily around both his open hands, his red-and-gold robes rippling in the dry heat. He was smiling.

”There you are,” he said pleasantly. ”What a remarkable place. I had no idea the Azure Cloud Sect kept anything so pretty tucked away in the dirt.” His warm, golden eyes drifted past the crystal column and found Lanying braced against the far wall. Then they shifted, very slowly, to Yan Shuo standing directly in front of her. His smile didn’t change a fraction. ”And there you are too, wine boy. I confess, I’m not entirely surprised.”

Yan Shuo didn’t wait for him to finish speaking.

He went straight at Chi Yao across the rough stone floor, low and fast, the exact way Fang Lie had come at him on the Cloud Terrace. Chi Yao laughed lightly and swept one blazing palm toward his chest. Yan Shuo ducked beneath the heat, slipped clean inside his guard, and drove the Silent River Palm into the inside of Chi Yao’s elbow with every drop of sixth-layer strength he was allowed to show.

Chi Yao’s arm jerked. For a single heartbeat, the white-gold fire around his hand guttered and went out.

Then his other hand came around, open-palmed, and struck Yan Shuo across the side of the head like a falling timber.

The cavern turned over. Yan Shuo hit the stone floor hard enough to bounce, rolled across the rock, and slammed against the base of the crystal column with his ears ringing wildly and the hot taste of copper flooding his mouth.

”That trick again,” Chi Yao mused, flexing his briefly numbed fingers. He sounded almost amused. ”Once was charming. Twice is simply tiresome.”

He turned his back on Yan Shuo as if he were furniture and walked toward Lanying.

She threw up another wall of ice. He burned through it in three breaths. She drew her sword, frost racing down the steel like cold water, and cut at him with all the ruthless speed and precision she possessed.

He caught the bare blade in one burning hand.

The tempered steel turned dull red, then blinding white right where his fingers closed around it. Lanying cried out and let go as the searing heat raced through the hilt and blistered her palm.

Chi Yao tossed the ruined, glowing sword aside. It clattered across the rock and lay hissing violently in a puddle of meltwater.

Then he reached out and took her left wrist in his hand.

”There,” he murmured. ”That’s much better.”

He held her wrist up between them—gently, almost tenderly. His thumb came to rest on the white leather bracer, directly over the fractured brand.

”Do you know what I felt tonight?” he asked softly. ”I felt my betrothed standing in another man’s room long past midnight. I felt her warmth through the threads like a lamp lit in a dark window. And then I felt it go cold, all at once, as though she had crawled into the earth to hide from me.” He shook his head with a soft sigh. ”Did you truly think a little dirt and stone could keep you from me, my dear?”

Lanying’s face was bloodless but she did not answer him.

”No matter,” Chi Yao said smoothly. ”You’ll be in Blazing Sun City in thirty days. I’ll have a lifetime to teach you proper manners.” His thumb pressed down hard against the leather. ”Yet I think tonight’s lesson ought to be one you remember.”

The fire went in.

Yan Shuo saw it from the base of the column, where he was desperately trying to get his boots back under him. Harsh gold light flared straight through the white leather of the bracer—brighter than on the terrace, brighter than he had ever seen it, so blindingly bright that the green glow of the vein on the walls washed out to grey. Lanying’s entire body locked rigid. Her spine arched hard against the stone wall. She made a sound he had never heard come from her throat before.

On the Cloud Terrace, Chi Yao had held her wrist for three breaths.

This time, he held it, and held it, and kept pouring.

Fire crawled up her bare arm beneath her torn sleeve. Yan Shuo could see it moving under her pale skin, vivid lines of molten gold forcing their way up the meridians of her forearm, past her elbow, climbing steadily toward her shoulder. Her frost exploded out of her in a frantic, ragged burst that coated the cavern walls in white rime—and the fire ate straight through it like dry paper.

”Stop,” Yan Shuo croaked, and found he was on his feet.

Chi Yao didn’t even glance at him.

”Stop!”

He crossed the cavern in four ragged strides and seized Chi Yao’s wrist with both hands.

He didn’t think. There was no room left in his skull for thinking. He drove the Silent River Palm straight into the young master’s wrist with every last scrap of qi in his three open meridians—all of it, the riverbed torn wide open, eight full layers of Qi Gathering poured into a single point like a driven iron spike. He did not care who saw.

The fire stalled in Chi Yao’s palm for three full heartbeats.

It was enough. Lanying wrenched her wrist free and collapsed back against the rock wall. Chi Yao staggered a pace, staring down at his own deadened hand—and for the very first time since he had stepped into the cavern, the easy smile vanished from his face.

He looked up at Yan Shuo with flat, hot, utterly empty eyes.

”That,” Chi Yao said softly, ”was the eighth layer.”

Yan Shuo said nothing.

Chi Yao raised his other hand, and the fire coiling in his palm turned a searing, sun-bright white.

Yan Shuo caught Lanying around the waist and hurled them both sideways, diving behind the massive crystal column.

Chi Yao’s blazing palm struck the column dead center, right where they had been standing a breath before. White-gold fire exploded across the pale crystal. The entire cavern flared a violent orange.

And the vein screamed.

There was no other word for it. A deep, grinding shriek tore up out of the bedrock and every single green cord in the cavern blazed as bright as noon. The massive column shuddered. A great, crushing wave of raw, starving qi burst outward from the crystal in every direction, heavy and ancient and furious. It struck Chi Yao full in the chest and flung him bodily across the cavern, slamming him straight into the half-melted wall of ice at the tunnel mouth.

He hit it hard. The remaining ice shattered around him in a cascade of steaming shards. For a long moment, he lay sprawled in the wet wreckage, completely stunned.

Then, very slowly, he began to laugh.

”The vein,” Chi Yao rasped, propping himself up and wiping a bright smear of blood from his lip with the back of his thumb. ”Oh, that is very good. Your dying little vein doesn’t care for fire.” He climbed unsteadily to his feet, staying well back by the shattered ice, his eyes fixed warily on the pulsing column. ”Very well. I don’t need to come any closer. I can wait. You’ll have to come out sooner or later.”

He smiled again, though the expression no longer reached anywhere near his eyes.

”And by then, my dear,” he added pleasantly, ”I think you’ll find you have entirely run out of time.”

Yan Shuo turned and looked down at Lanying.

She was huddled against the base of the crystal column with her left arm clutched tight against her ribs. Her face was the color of cold ash. Beneath her pale skin, the lines of molten gold had stopped climbing at her shoulder, yet they had not faded. They glowed steadily inside her meridians. Even as he watched, one burning thread crept another finger’s width toward her heart.

She saw where he was looking, and tried to smile. It failed halfway.

”It’s still moving,” she whispered, her voice rattling in her chest. ”He put so much in. It’s still climbing on its own.”

’It will reach her dantian long before dawn,’ Qin Wuyue said, her phantom voice terrifyingly quiet. ’He poured enough fire into her channels to finish the work without ever touching her again. He knows it. That is why he’s content to sit there and watch.’

Yan Shuo dropped to his knees in front of Lanying and took both her hands in his. Her right palm was raw and blistered from her sword hilt; her left burned like a live coal from the forge.

’Harmony won’t be enough to save her this time,’ Qin went on steadily. ’Not by itself. Last time, you shared the fire and stretched it thin. This time, there is far too much of it. You will have to go deeper than you have ever gone, brat. Deeper than she has. All the way down to the absolute bottom of what you feel for each other. And you will have to do it right here, pressed against the heart of the vein. It might help you carry the load. It might tear you both to pieces. I don’t know. I have never seen a dying thing this hungry.’

Yan Shuo looked into Lanying’s pale, exhausted face.

He told her the truth, as plainly and quietly as he could, because there was no time left in the world for anything else. He told her there was a way. That it was the same road they had walked before, only much deeper. And that it would only open if it came from what they truly felt for each other.

She listened with her burning hand resting in his.

When he finished, she stayed quiet for a long moment. Beneath her collarbone, the gold thread in her meridian crept another fraction of an inch toward her heart.

Then Lanying lifted her blistered right hand and laid it gently against his bruised cheek.

”The first time,” she whispered, ”I told you I chose it.” Her pale eyes were wet, bright, and fiercely steady. ”This time, I am telling you why. I love you, Yan Shuo. And I am not afraid of it anymore.”

He turned his face into her wounded palm and closed his eyes.

”I love you too,” he said.

Behind them, at the far side of the cavern, Chi Yao settled himself comfortably atop a block of shattered ice to watch them die. Around them, the dying vein’s green light pulsed slow and deep.