50. King of Crows

Everyone who was mobile all stood huddled closely together, with the injured, including A’Yao, behind them. At the back was Baxia, sitting like a very proud, very big boulder…or possibly a small hill. Altogether, they numbered less than thirty people and one demonic, but (somewhat) tamed, beast.

In front of them were Wen Xu and five of his generals, who were all cultivators. Behind them were at least five hundred soldiers.

Behind them, facing the Unclean Realm, were over nine thousand soldiers and cultivators.

“I see my brother once again failed abysmally at his job,” Wen Xu said with a smirk. “I suppose I will have to clean up his mess, as I usually do. Don’t bother to surrender, I plan on executing you all equally.”

Nie Mingjue took a deep, steadying breath. He stood at the front, with Yanli on one side and Nie Wang on the other. The Yin Saber was in his hand, but pointing down, its tip barely resting on the ground. Yanli heard A’Cheng and Ying’er shift restlessly behind her.

“Unsurprisingly, you misunderstood the reason for this meeting. I am here to demand your surrender, Wen Xu. If you come peacefully, I will be merciful and grant you a clean, swift execution.” Nie Mingjue spoke plainly, as if he threatened the lives of the heirs of major sects every day before breakfast. Yanli kept her trembling hands deep in her sleeves.

Wen Xu looked thrown for a moment before laughing obnoxiously. “Do you, now?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Surrender, and I will let your army pass by unmolested. Save your men honorably, Wen Xu, as a proper leader of men should.”

“What an amazing bluff. I’m impressed.” Wen Xu sauntered forward a few paces. “I respect your brass balls, Nie Mingjue, but sadly, they are going to get you killed.”

“Brave of you to claim such a fate for me, when I have the Xuanwu of Slaughter at my back.” Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“I see a big-ass turtle falling asleep in a field. Did you drug it? No matter. I have over a thousand cultivators at my command. We will triumph over the beast.” He rolled his eyes. “This is your last chance: drop your weapons and kneel to me, and I will kill you all mercifully.”

Nie Mingjue took a deep breath and held out his left hand, as if giving up. “No.”

He stepped backwards and swung the Yin Saber up like raising a flag. Baxia rose, setting off a ground-shaking tremor, and shuffled forward to tower over them, Nie Mingjue standing under her chin—just in time for her massive shell to shield them from the volley of arrows Wen Xu called down.

“Now, Wei Ying,” Nie Mingjue said calmly.

Ying’er, his face pale and drawn, pulled out the qiankun pouch one of his crows had delivered to him an hour earlier while they traveled to the meeting place Wen Xu had specified. Yanli spun around and went to stand by A’Yao while A’Cheng put a hand on Ying’er’s shoulder as the pouch fell open and the three yin shards inside floated out, ominously swathed in curls of resentful energy.

“You can’t just hide from us!” Wen Xu shouted in disbelief. “What do you think you are—”

And then the crows came.

Wave after wave of crows descended, a black torrent nearly blotting out the sky. They hit the ground in a flurry of feathers and dark energy, twisting and reforming into an army of spectral soldiers, resentful energy pouring off of them. Their weapons looked like the obsidian of crows’ beaks, their armor layered and reflecting light the way black feathers glistened in the sun. There had to be several thousands of them, Yanli thought in awe.

A few of the cultivators behind Wen Xu took one look at the slowly emerging demonic crow-army and took off, flying away on their swords, their cowardice overpowering any sense of shame. The rest looked at Wen Xu as they armed themselves, their uncertainty clear on their faces even as they readied for the fight.

Under the cover of Baxia's shell, Jiang Yanli watched in horrified fascination as the crow-soldiers engaged the Wen forces, who had turned in mass at the shouts of the remaining generals and Wen Xu, to charge at them. The air crackled with resentful energy, a palpable wave of darkness washing over the battlefield, flowing out from Wei Ying’s hands as he whistled a haunting tune.

Baxia lumbered forward, a shield against the Wen attacks for everyone taking shelter under her. The few Wen who somehow got past the deadly crow soldiers ended up crushed under her heavy, padded feet, their screams cut short. Yanli tried not to look as she walked steadily forward, allowing A’Yao to lean into her.

The battle raged and time slowed down. Nie Mingjue stepped out in front of Baxia to lead her to the main gate of the Unclean Realm, swinging the Yin Saber wide and felling Wen soldiers like knocking down toys. Behind him, just under Baxia’s head, Wei Ying walked slowly, his arms out and the yin shards floating over his palms as if juggled by invisible hands. A’Cheng and Nie Wang stood at his side, although there wasn’t much to protect him from with the crow soldiers piled up five-deep around Baxia, slicing down soldiers and arrows with methodical precision.

As they advanced, Jiang Yanli noticed a subtle change in Wei Wuxian. His movements became jerky, as if he was walking forward seemingly without seeing, his expression blank and his eyes turning that bright, livid red she hated so much.

She had been against the whole idea of the crow army as soon as A’Yao proposed it, arguing bluntly with him about it, but Nie Mingjue had pointed out that their options had run out. They could not even flee, as Wen Xu would no doubt send a massive force after them. It was attack or surrender, and A’Yao had let her squeeze his hand unmercifully as she agreed to allow Ying’er to use the demonic yin shards to raise an unnatural, cursed army.

She watched as the resentful energy swirling around him pulsed erratically, struggling against an unseen force. Beside him, A’Cheng stiffened, his hand tightening on Ying’er’s shoulder, his expression filled with concern, distrustfully watching the three pieces spinning in air.

“Nie Mingjue! You dare use demonic arts against me?” Wen Xu landed right in front of Nie Mingjue in the space he had just cleared of Wen soldiers. Wen Xu had three bodyguards with him, high ranking generals who were no doubt accomplished cultivators. Yanli thought for a moment that he was a suicidal lunatic, but then realized that strategically, the best bet to win the battle would be to cut off the head of the leader. Unfortunately for Wen Xu, Nie Mingjue was only nominally in charge—their fate rested in Ying’er’s hands. Or rather, the yin iron shards hovering over his hands.

Nie Mingjue roared like a tiger and lunged forward, Nie Wang at his side. The crow soldiers stayed clear, either on Ying’er’s instructions or simply because the battle between the highly skilled cultivators was too complicated for them. She had noticed, among the chaos, that the crow soldiers were pretty straightforward and did not rely on sophisticated martial arts. With every blow from their obsidian blades filled with resentful energy, they didn’t have to.

The six men fought faster than the eye could see. Around Baxia, the crow soldiers kept the mass of the Wen army at bay, allowing the turtle to shuffle forward with the rest of the Nie squad along with the three remaining Jiang arrayed around Yanli, under the giant beast’s belly. Ahead of them, she saw the massive front gates to the Unclean Realm creak open.

The fight between Wen Xu and Nie Mingjue raged on, but then they were reduced to five men as Nie Wang took out one of the Wen generals. Then four, as another Wen fell. That left Wen Xu and Nie Mingjue facing off while Nie Wang dodged and harried the remaining Wen general, keeping him from helping the Wen heir.

If anyone had asked Yanli even an hour ago, she would have said that there was no contest between Nie Mingjue and Wen Xu, given Nie Mingjue’s experience and sheer power as a cultivator. But Wen Xu surprised her by meeting him move for move, using speed and dexterity to outpace Nie Mingjue’s strength. He even managed to dance away from the strands of resentful energy the Yin Saber left behind as it sliced through the air.

“Mingjue—!” The name was punched out by Nie Wang, who stood speared by the other Wen general’s sword right through his heart. He blinked as the Wen yanked the sword free, then toppled over like a marionette with its strings cut. Both Wen Xu and Nie Mingjue had paused, weapons crossed, to watch the man fall.

Nie Mingjue screamed, a shattered sound that vibrated through Yanli’s bones. A’Yao pulled her closer, disturbed by it. Above them, Baxia grumbled, echoing her master’s rage.

The Yin Saber in Nie Mingjue's hand began to vibrate, emitting a low, ominous hum that rattled through the air across the whole battlefield, unsettling some of the crow soldiers, who transformed and took flight. His face contorted in a grimace of pain and fury as a wave of raw, untamed power pulsed from the saber and threw both Wen Xu and his general backwards several yards.

Still screaming, more demon than man, Nie Mingjue lunged forward with supernatural speed and with two mighty swings of the Yin Saber sliced both men clean in half. Wen Xu, sword still raised in his hand, looked shocked for a brief moment as he died, blood spewing out from where the halves of his body slid apart.

Ying’er shouted wordlessly and twisted, his hands grabbing the yin shards with a hiss of burned skin. All attention turned to him as he dropped to one knee.

“Ying’ge!” A’Cheng yelled, trying to pull him up. Ying’er snarled and punched him, knocking him down with extreme force. All at once, the crow soldiers dissipated, the surviving crows streaking up into the sky. Around them, the Wen army was in shambles, with only about a third of their force remaining and all their leaders, including Wen Xu, now dead. Many were already fleeing the field of combat.

“Wei Ying!” A’Yao shouted at him, but Ying’er ignored him, standing up slowly, clutching the yin shards in his hands despite the pain they had to be causing, the smoke wafting up from where they burned.

“Nie Mingjue!” Ying’er called out, his voice wrong and deep and old. It was not the echoing, vast sound of the Burial Mounds; no, this was the voice of a man.

Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock, and for a long moment they stared at each other.

“I will destroy you, boy!” Ying’er bit out the words. “Just like I did your father!”

Nie Mingjue’s expression turned from rage to madness and he swung the Yin Saber, ready to charge at Ying’er.

Before Yanli could even shout a warning, though, A’Cheng yanked Ying’er to the side by his shoulder.

“Leave my brother alone*, you asshole!*” He swung his arm back and Zidian flared out before he snapped it hard straight across Ying’er’s body, scorching a line down his face, neck, and torso. Ying’er dropped like a stone. Yanli shrieked and tried to run forward, but A’Yao and Jiang Wu held her back. A’Cheng fell to his knees next to Ying’er, who was motionless on the ground.

“Da’Ge! DA’GE!!!!”

Yanli looked up to see a streak of green and silver dash out of the fully opened gates, followed by a stream of Nie cultivators who started running after the retreating Wen. Nie Huaisang, though, barreled over human and crow bodies in a dead sprint, aiming straight for his brother.

Who was standing there, staring at Wei Ying, his eyes bloodshot with tears of actual blood streaming down his face as he seethed with fury, resentful energy spinning around him. The Yin Saber was cloaked in a rancid fog of resentment, pointed straight at where Wei Ying lay.

Qi deviation.

People called out in panic to try to halt Nie Huaisang's mad run, but he did not falter. He ran up and skidded to a stop in front of Nie Mingjue. He remained completely still as his brother raised the Yin Saber higher, ready to run him through. Yanli thought she heard Nie Zonghui yelling, but nothing broke Nie Huaisang’s concentration. He reached out slowly and clasped the flat of the blade between his hands, grimacing at the touch.

Nie Mingjue’s face cleared instantly, taken over by abject horror. In the next moment, he crumpled like a slow landslide, his eyes rolling up in his head. He was swarmed by Nie, his younger brother shouting orders as if he were a seasoned field general.

Baxia, sensing the battle was over, delicately stepped aside to go smash down on a pile of Wen bodies and blithely bob her head as she sun-bathed, little puffs of resentment wafting off her shell like steam.

Yanli finally managed to yank herself free and run over to Ying’er. He was looking up at the sky above him, wan and pale but lucid, the singed scar over his cheek and jaw left by Zidian weeping blood.

“Ying’er!” She got down on her knees, checking his eyes and patting the unmarred side of his face. A’Cheng looked both relieved and mortified as he watched her, not daring to touch his brother himself.

“JieJie!” Ying’er croaked, the word caught in his throat. “He’s still…he can see…please—” He held up his hands, his arms shaking from the effort, and she saw that his fingers were still wrapped around the yin iron shards. She reached out, but A’Yao grabbed her wrist. She glared at him.

“My core is already damaged, A’Li, and locked down.” He pulled the qiankun bag off of Ying’er’s belt and took his hands, slowly uncurling his fingers. “It won’t matter much if I touch the shards.” He still cringed as he did so, but that could have been because Ying’er hands were covered in burns and blisters, the blood thick and greasy as it ran down his wrists.

“Ying’er, oh! My poor didi!” She took his hands in hers once they were empty, heedless of the blood, and started crying.

“Don’t cry, JieJie. We won!” Ying’er smiled up at her with a mouth full of blackened blood. “We did it!”

She choked back a sob and nodded at him as A’Yao finally got all three shards back in the pouch and tied it off.

They had won, triumphantly and against all odds.

But at what cost?