34. Their Greatest Weapon

The Nie medic who had helped Wei Ying recover from his use of the array after the bandit attack was the second person to sprint towards Ying’er in the plaza, following on the heels of the trail blazed by Lan Wangji. They both nearly tripped over crow bodies and the broken pavers, the ground having ruptured from the earthquakes caused by Xue Yang’s fury.

The resulting commotion was loud and chaotic, with Xiao Xingchen protecting a mortally wounded Xue Yang from immediate execution by enraged Nie disciples while more Nie doctors made their way through, along with one of the Lan who was also, apparently, a medic. Lan Wangji was on his knees holding Ying’er, looking angrier than Yanli thought he could look, although she suspected that was due more to his fear and worry than actual anger.

She sent out a silent apology to Lan Qiren, because whatever happened from there on out, there was no hiding or downplaying Ying’er’s connection to unorthodox cultivation.

A’Yao was holding Yanli around the waist to keep her in check. Song Daoren had finally allowed A’Cheng to stand up, but had a firm grip on his robes. She was glad of it after a moment to catch her breath, since there wasn’t much she could do either, and it was better to stay out of the way of the doctors. Eventually, both wounded boys were carted off with Lan Wangji and Xiao Xingchen acting as bodyguards. Song Daoren and A’Cheng followed quietly behind.

Finally, finally, quiet descended.

Nie Mingjue stood in the middle of the broken plaza with Baxia’s tip resting on the stone, his hands on her hilt and staring at the blood at his feet. Both fighters undoubtedly lost a lot of blood during the vicious battle, but it looked like there was too much blood there, more as if a huge massacre had occurred and only the blood, and none of the bodies, were left behind. The dead crows, of which there were at least a dozen, could not bleed so much.

Everyone was walking around the bodies of the birds carefully, obviously remembering the demon soldiers they had been only moments before.

“What happened here, Wei Yanli?”

A’Yao bristled at the informal address, but Yanli could tell there was no disrespect behind it. Nie Mingjue was talking to her as an equal, as one elder sibling to another.

“Wei Ying has been channeling resentment since he activated the array during the bandit attack. You know he communes with the Burial Grounds, and with the yin iron, for all that neither are fully sentient. We have known it was unhealthy for him and have been trying to find ways to reduce its effect, but clearly we have failed in our duty to him.” She paused, then bowed deeply. A’Yao, taking her cue, bowed with her. “This one apologizes for the trauma caused to the Unclean Realm due to my oversight and underestimation of the danger.”

Nie Mingjue let her stay that way for a long moment, then sighed. “I don’t think any of us were planning on a powerful demonic cultivator showing up and challenging your brother to dual,” he said, his expression serious, but his tone of voice sardonic.

Yanli stood again and tucked her hands into her sleeves to hide how much they were shaking. She waited for Nie Mingjue to continue, A’Yao as placid and strong as deep water next to her.

In the meantime, Nie Huaisang approached, grimacing and tip-toeing through the muck, holding his skirts up nearly to his knees. He stopped once or twice to inspect the crows, then give instructions on their handling to a very nervous looking disciple, who peeled off to go start ordering others on what to do.

When he was standing next to his brother (skirts still held indecently high, but also high enough not to get soaked with blood), he sighed extravagantly.

“Is that the kind of power we can expect from Wen Ruohan?”

Nie Mingjue startled at the question, moving through surprise to horror to grim fury. Yanli had not thought that far down the road herself, and suspected the answer was probably “yes, and worse.” But that was just a guess.

“I cannot say, Young Master Nie.” She shook her head.

“With all due respect, this one can.” A’Yao spoke directly to her, bowing. She hated it a little bit, missing their familiar informality, but it was completely proper form for a seneschal.

“If you have insight to share, I think we all would welcome it,” she replied, giving him a nod of approval.

He stood up again. “Ying’er has talked informally with me and A’Cheng, as his brothers, about his connection to the Burial Mounds.” At Yanli’s displeased expression, he shrugged. “He refused to tell you about it, fearing that it would worry you.”

“I am fully and completely worried at this point,” she said in exasperation.

“This one apologizes. I was trying to watch him, to see if he was getting worse, before coming to you.” He did look genuinely apologetic, at least, before continuing on. “According to him, the Burial Mounds and the yin iron are intimately connected, as they were created at around the same time. As we all know, the Burial Mounds was the site of a savage battle between cultivators in ancient times. The resentful energy unleashed in that battle created the yin iron, the Burial Mounds, and—according to Ying’er—the Xuanwu of Slaughter as well. All three are linked, and when the yin iron was later stolen and broken apart by Xue Chonghai, it affected them deeply.

“We already know that when Ying’er used the yin iron given to him by Lan Yi, he saw where the other pieces were. This is how he knew what Wen Ruohan is up to, and about the Nie crypts. What he saw of the Fire Palace in Nevernight…no boy should ever see.”

“He told you details?” Nie Mingjue demanded.

“Not so much, Sect Leader Nie. But he’s been suffering nightmares ever since.” He gave Yanli another apologetic look. “It’s one reason he has not pushed too hard to use the yin iron again to figure out where the Xuanwu of Slaughter is. That, and he’s concerned about what has been revealed to Wen Ruohan.”

Nie Huaisang gasped. “It goes both ways?”

A chill went down Yanli’s spine, and Nie Mingjue reared back.

“Meng Yao! Why didn’t you tell me?” Yanli demanded.

He bowed to her again. “I was hoping to use the trip to the Nie crypts to convince him to tell you the full truth of the matter, or at least tell Sect Leader Nie. I was…superseded.” He motioned at the drying blood on the ground.

Nie Huaisang had let go of his skirts in shock, and was busy collecting them back up again as he talked. “But if using the yin iron shows where the other pieces are, what is holding Wen Ruohan back?” He paused, thinking. “He thought he had time. He had no idea anyone else would discover any of the pieces, and no reason to expect us to succeed at it even if we tried.”

A’Yao nodded. “I believe Ying’er’s use of the Burial Mounds in his protective array for our home all those months ago effectively woke the sleeping giant. There is no way to be sure, but if it were me sitting in the Fire Palace with two pieces of the yin iron, I would be doing a lot to make certain that I could get the other pieces without disturbing the Burial Mounds. He spent several decades securing the first two pieces, and he’s a powerful cultivator who will live a long time, all other things being equal.”

“He’s been leading up to a war of conquest my whole life,” Nie Mingjue countered.

“Exactly. Your whole life—that’s possibly only a tenth of his own life span. If war comes in two years or twenty years, it is probably all the same to him. He can afford to play with the string, teasing the cat, for as long as he wants. He’s already outlived one family, after all. I imagine he is far more worried about provoking the Burial Mounds than he is about antagonizing Qinghe Nie.”

“But not anymore,” Yanli said with a long exhale. “Ying’er has put a target on all of us.” She put a hand over her eyes.

“Do not rebuke yourself, Wei Yanli. I assure you that target was put on all of us long before you or I were born,” Nie Mingjue said, more kindly than the situation warranted. “But, Wei Ying has definitely moved up the timetable.” He turned to A’Yao. “Is it possible that he got a better picture of how things stand with Wen Ruohan, after…this?” He wrinkled his nose as he gestured at the plaza. Off towards the edges, servants and disciples were already bringing buckets of water, brooms, and mops to start cleaning.

A’Yao nodded, and Yanli hated him a little for it.

“Yes, but back to your original question: is this the kind of violence we can expect from Wen Ruohan? No. Not even a little bit. With two or more pieces of the yin iron and his insatiable lust for power, we can expect much, much worse.”

Nie Mingjue looked at his brother, but Yanli could not interpret the exchange.

“There are those who will say a man possessed by the spirit of the Burial Mounds should not be allowed to live,” Nie Huaisang said delicately, trying to hide behind his fan while not letting go of skirts.

A’Yao relaxed and put on a charming smile that Yanli knew hid a killing rage. There was a reason the drunkard of a wood carver had left town and never returned after trying to sell his eldest daughter to slave traders—according to A’Cheng, the man had pissed himself when A’Yao had smiled, given him a few coins, and whispered in his ear. No one had ever seen him again. A’Yao was still the accountant for the wife and daughters, who apparently had been the ones doing all the actual wood carving.

“I would not suggest any of the Nie try,” A’Yao said. “Not only would that immediately break our alliance, but I would like to remind you of what we just witnessed.”

They all looked at him quizzically.

“For one who is soaked in resentful energy to go up against one who commands resentful energy is a folly of staggering proportions.” He gestured broadly at the blood-soaked plaza they were standing in the middle of.

Nie Huaisang wore an expression of enlightenment, while Nie Mingjue grimaced and cast a wary look at Baxia.

“The Nie will not break oath with you, Sect Leader Wei,” Nie Huaisang said, bowing as best he could while still holding his skirts aloft with one hand and his fan with his other.

Nie Mingjue nodded heavily. “There is too much at stake for the Nie to be so foolish, not simply for our own sake. With the yin iron in hand, Wen Ruohan is capable of releasing untold horrors into the world in the name of subjugating the jianghu. It would not surprise me if his gaze is set on the imperial throne, in time. Finding the other pieces of the yin iron is the key to this fight, however long it takes.”

“Need I remind you, Sect Leader Nie, that if we are correct, then war is on the immediate horizon, and time is running out,” A’Yao said with a regretful glance at Yanli. “It might just be that our greatest weapon is not the yin iron, but the boy who can wield it.”