Reborn as a succubus - Chapter 51

On the surface, the area where the incubi live didn’t seem to have changed much — except there were many more soldiers in the streets, all fully armed and patrolling everywhere.

Xi Che guessed those troops were here to arrest Zhan Yujin; otherwise Zhan wouldn’t have been hiding in the carriage with him, sulking around and afraid to get close.

They followed Zhan to the place where Yuan Ting was being held. By Zhan’s description, this was the incubi clan’s most tightly guarded prison; he had tried many ways to get in and said it was impossible. Xi Che stared at the “imposing” prison and was stunned — not by the soldiers outside, but by the aura the building gave off. The prison faintly radiated a barrier’s energy, and it wasn’t a low-level one. From his feeling, slipping past it unnoticed was utterly impossible.

Crap. He had boasted to Zhan that he could infiltrate and see Yuan Ting — what a load of hot air.

White Tiger, who’d been resting in his mind, suddenly woke and warned Xi Che: “You can’t go in.”

Xi Che frowned and asked on purpose, “Why — what do you feel?”

White Tiger paused, then only said, “I can’t explain. It just gives me a very bad feeling.”

Yes. That kind of feeling: nothing concrete, but very wrong. Why did it feel like that?

Someone else shared the same sense: Chu Yan. He also felt that the barrier outside the prison was extraordinary, though not quite as extreme as Xi Che’s impression — perhaps because Chu Yan’s power was still at its peak, so he wasn’t afraid. He simply found it strange. If the power here was so strong, why did it feel secretive? Who could have made such a thing?

Chu Yan was quietly relieved that he’d come along; if he hadn’t, Asa would surely have run into danger.

But Xi Che wasn’t reckless — knowing the enemy was stronger, he wouldn’t just storm in. Right now, more than rescuing Yuan Ting, he wanted to know who had laid such a barrier. After one long look at the building, he drew back and whispered to Zhan: “We can’t force it. There’s a barrier far beyond my spells.”

Zhan’s disappointment showed plainly. Xi Che felt annoyed too — he was used to being able to help, and this was the first time he’d failed.

Before they could say more, a clattering sounded outside. Xi Che hadn’t yet processed it when Zhan had already lifted the carriage curtain to peek. He immediately ducked back and pointed urgently to the rear of the carriage: “Get down — quickly!”

“What?”

“Get out!”

Zhan didn’t explain. He shoved Xi Che out of the carriage; Xi Che tumbled out through the curtain. Because they’d hidden the carriage in a thicket, he wasn’t hurt — he fell into bushes and was pulling himself up when a squad of soldiers arrived, then ripped open the carriage curtain and dragged Zhan out.

Xi Che froze — then realized Zhan must have noticed he was about to be arrested and shoved him out to save at least one person.

“General Zhan, the Chancellor has been looking for you. Come with us.” One soldier grinned. “You thought you could leave the capital and never return? The Chancellor didn’t like that. Who knew you’d come back to die.”

Zhan sneered, “Rong Jiudao’s a dog. May he rot.”

Then the sounds of scuffling and disorder came from outside as they took him away.

Xi Che finally understood: Zhan’s situation wasn’t as simple as he’d implied. Rong Jiudao was likely hunting him across the city. If Xi Che had been in his place, he wouldn’t have told anyone the truth either — revealing it would have meant no one would come help. That explained why Zhan Yujin believed him without fully checking his strength; he was recruiting help, one way or another.

But Xi Che wondered — if things were so urgent, why come by carriage? Wouldn’t walking be less conspicuous? Then he thought of another possibility: the carriage might have been intended for carrying Yuan Ting out. If Yuan Ting could be rescued, he might be severely injured or unable to walk, so a carriage would be needed.

Whatever the reason, Zhan had saved him.

Watching him being taken away, Xi Che sighed, “Looks like I’ll have to risk it.”

White Tiger objected: “You’d better not. We don’t know how deep this goes. Going in would be suicide.”

“If it were only about Yuan Ting, I wouldn’t care. But Zhan just did me a favor. You can’t just watch him be taken like that. Debts are easy to repay, but favors—” he trailed off.

“Those soldiers would have taken you too if he hadn’t pushed you out.” White Tiger’s argument sounded like self-justification for cowardice, and Xi Che knew it, but he wasn’t heartless. He didn’t want to repay the favor by doing nothing.

He tried to move after the soldiers, but a hand suddenly grabbed his right wrist and yanked him backwards. He reflexively swung his elbow but was easily blocked; someone pulled him into an embrace from behind.

Xi Che was shocked — being held from behind like that felt utterly unsafe.

When he recognized the holder, his shock turned to exasperation. “You?”

It was Chu Qi. Again. The man seemed unable to leave him alone.

“How did you—” Xi Che began.

Chu Yan didn’t answer, only asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Xi Che wrestled free and took a step back. “None of your business. Didn’t I tell you you’re a stalker?”

He guessed Chu Qi had been following him since the small room at Yujing Academy where he first contacted Zhan; otherwise he wouldn’t have made it here.

“You should thank me for stalking you,” Chu Yan said.

Xi Che wanted to roll his eyes. Chu Yan, who used to be taciturn, now had the nerve to say whatever came to mind: “Are you planning to go in by yourself to save him?”

Xi Che raised an eyebrow. “What if I am?”

Chu Yan glanced toward the prison and said flatly, “You can’t get in alone.”

No need to ask. Xi Che’s nature made it clear he wouldn’t stand idle if someone was taken before his eyes.

Xi Che wanted to flare up, but then thought: this fellow was a powerful ally. He hadn’t forgotten the thunder tribulation that hadn’t struck Chu Qi down; if he’d survived that, he must be formidable. Reluctantly he softened his tone: “So, are you offering to help?”

Chu Yan arched a brow and teased rare in jest, “You’re sly — you want me to help you but pretend you didn’t. Waiting for me to volunteer?”

Xi Che squirmed. He did want the help but disliked asking for it directly — especially from someone who clearly had his own motives. Still, when someone helped without asking for return, it made them complicated.

Chu Yan, though, was a powerful and rare ally. Refusing him would be foolish.

Xi Che forced himself to say, “So, are you helping or not?”

“I am. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” Chu Yan cut him off and offered a hand. “Come. I’ll get you in.”

Xi Che stared at the hand for a long moment. “What do you mean?”

Chu Yan sighed: “There’s a barrier. Hold my hand and I’ll bring you through. Otherwise we’ll be detected.”

White Tiger in Xi Che’s head mocked him: “Hurry up and accept. Like you have another plan.”

“Shut up!” Xi Che snapped inwardly, but ultimately he placed his hand in Chu Qi’s. Chu Yan barely smiled and gripped his hand, forming an invisibility talisman and leading him toward the prison.

The barrier was indeed powerful, but it only constrained someone of Xi Che’s level; for a deity of Chu Yan’s rank it was meaningless. The strength of the barrier also felt oddly similar to parts of Xi Che’s own power.

Even with Chu Yan’s assurance, he couldn’t help holding his breath as they passed the entrance. Only after they pierced the barrier and walked boldly down a corridor lined with soldiers did he relax. He glanced at Chu Yan and thought: the old fox really was unfathomable.

“Your man is over there. Are you going to rescue him?” Chu Yan asked.

Following his gaze, Xi Che saw Zhan being dragged toward a blackened passage by two soldiers. In that short time he had been flogged; his clothes were torn and stained with blood. Anger flared in Xi Che; after a few deep breaths he calmed and said, “You go for him. I’ll look around the cells — I need to find someone else.”

Chu Yan disapproved. “If you’re looking for someone, we go together.”

“I’m looking for Yuan Ting. You haven’t seen him; you won’t recognize him. I have to bring him out.” Xi Che explained.

Chu Yan thought, I’m here to rescue you, not strangers: “Fine. We look for Yuan Ting after we get Zhan.”

Xi Che frowned. “Are you stupid? We’re here to rescue people! Dragging a half-dead captive through the prison is suicide. Stop arguing — we split up. One hour. Meet back here whether or not we saved them.”

Chu Yan wanted to say more, but Xi Che already let go of his hand and dashed down another corridor.

“Wait.” Chu Yan knew Asa’s stubbornness well. He produced a dagger — a talisman weapon he’d brought when descending — and handed it to him for protection.

“Take this. Don’t be reckless. Come back quickly if you can’t find anything.” Chu Yan said.

Xi Che took the dagger and looked at him. “Got it.”

Finding the place where Yuan Ting was held wasn’t hard. But when Xi Che saw him, he barely recognized him. He remembered their first meeting — Yuan had been proud and sharp as a blade. Now he was a pitiful sight: hair unkempt, clearly tortured. Only his eyes still held an unbroken light. On the cell wall someone had written a poem in blood; Xi Che stared at it, feeling rage and sorrow.

He had no special affection for Yuan Ting, but the scene still moved him. For the first time he realized he might not truly understand Yuan — his impressions had been partial and subjective.

“Who is it?” Yuan weakly asked.

“General Yuan, it’s me. I came to save you.”

Xi Che crouched by the iron bars. Yuan squinted and finally seemed to recognize him. “It’s… you? You’re not dead?”

Xi Che forced a smile. “Thanks to you, I’m alive. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come.”

A small smile flickered on Yuan’s face. “I knew I had an eye for you. It’s a pity I couldn’t use you better for our clan.”

“Enough about that. I’ll get you out.” Xi Che stood and began to cast a charm to open the cell, but Yuan stopped him with a raised hand.

“I won’t go. Leave.” Yuan said.

“What? Why?!” Xi Che cried.

Yuan drew a deep breath. “Do you think Rong Jiudao would calmly let me walk out? If I leave, he will kill the fifty thousand soldiers of the Junxia Party the next day.”

Xi Che blinked. “How do you know?”

“It’s complicated. I can’t explain it all now. Just know Rong Jiudao used sorcery to control our people.” Yuan’s voice was flat.

Hearing that, Xi Che’s confusion cleared — this matched what Zhan had said earlier about the army’s sudden defection. Yuan had a reason for saying people were controlled by evil arts.

“What sort of sorcery?” Xi Che asked urgently.

Yuan shook his head. “I only know Rong Jiudao has a powerful expert around him. When the Junxia faction turned, we thought it might be our fault. But later we saw their state — it was clear they were mentally controlled. I met that leader once. His face was pale, like the dead. I can’t say if he was human or demon. It was strange.”

Goosebumps rose on Xi Che. He had come to investigate Rong Jiudao and had not expected so many secrets. At first he’d suspected his own divine artifacts had been misused; now it seemed Rong Jiudao had other masters. Damn — why hadn’t he noticed all these powerful figures in his past life?

He remembered why he’d come: “Forget it. Stop talking. Come with me now!”

Yuan shook his head, smiling sadly. “No. I won’t leave. If I go, the Junxia Party has no future.”

“You—!”

Yuan added: “Since you came, I won’t let you go back empty-handed. Do you have a blade?”

Xi Che reluctantly produced the dagger Chu Yan had given him. “I have one…”

Yuan suddenly moved. Crawling on his knees toward the bars, Xi Che realized with horror that from his knees downward Yuan had nothing — his legs had been sawed off. Rong Jiudao had been that cruel.

Before he could react, Yuan took the dagger, drew the sheath, looked at the blade and smiled, “A fine blade — cold and sharp.”

“General Yuan—”

“I don’t want to be publicly beheaded. Suicide isn’t my style, but I’ll use this.” Yuan plunged the dagger into his own throat. Xi Che couldn’t stop him. Blood sprayed into his face; Yuan fell. Xi Che lunged but could only grab hot blood. Yuan stared at the moon outside, as if saying something.

What was he saying? Xi Che couldn’t make out all the words but heard: “I have lived an honest, loyal life. I did my best.”

To whom was he saying it? Xi Che didn’t know. Maybe to the previous emperor he’d served.

Xi Che fled the prison alone, messy and shaken. Chu Yan was already waiting outside, carrying Zhan on his back. Chu Yan saw Xi Che was covered in blood and frantic and asked if he was hurt. Xi Che shook his head: “Not my blood. Let’s get out of here.”

He couldn’t explain what he felt — it was awful.

They found an inn and stayed awhile. Zhan wasn’t gravely wounded compared to Yuan; after a few cups of water, he woke and, still groggy, asked in a trembling voice: “Where is Yuan Ting?”

Xi Che sighed deeply and told him what had happened. “General Yuan suffered terrible torture… he likely didn’t want to live on like that.”

Zhan sat in stunned silence for a long time, then asked hoarsely: “Did he leave any words?”

“‘I have lived an honest, loyal life. I did my best.’”

Tears immediately filled Zhan’s eyes. He coughed up blood but waved them away weakly. “I knew it. He wouldn’t break. That dog Rong Jiudao slurred him before the whole army. I know — there’s no one purer than him!”

Xi Che understood. He and Chu Yan exchanged a look; even Chu Yan’s usually impassive eyes had ripples. The Junxia Party had always urged incubi to be strong by force. Yuan, their leader, would never have succumbed willingly unless he’d been framed.

“What really happened?” Xi Che asked.

Zhan hesitated, then, perhaps because Xi Che had saved him, told the truth. After capturing Yuan Ting, Rong Jiudao had used vile means to force him into arousal and recorded it, then played the footage before Yuan’s troops. Incubi are incubi — inducing arousal is easy for them. Once the footage showed Yuan in such a state, his authority collapsed.

No wonder he’d killed himself. A man of his backbone could survive losing his legs; he could not survive such disgrace.

Xi Che remembered the blood-poem on the wall and felt pained. He might not have had personal affection for Yuan, but the story of such a man was enough to break his heart — and he was naturally loyal and hot-blooded.

“General Yuan also left a poem,” Xi Che said.

Zhan looked up. Xi Che hesitated a moment and then recited:
“Blades and swords are not to be trifled with; true loyalty cannot endure slander.
I offer my blood to the earth; the bright moon knows my heart’s purity.”

After hearing it, Zhan suddenly spat blood.

“General Zhan!” they cried.

He clutched his mouth and, after coughing, tried to steady himself. “I’m fine. I need calm. Please leave me be.”

Xi Che and Chu Yan exchanged another look. They had nothing more to say and left the room. As soon as they closed the inn door behind them, a strangled cry came from Zhan’s room.

“Yuan!! I know you! I know you!” Zhan’s cry sounded like it tore his heart apart.

Xi Che staggered back two steps, expression hardening. He bolted out of the inn.

Chu Yan chased after him. “Where are you going?”

Xi Che didn’t look back: “I’m going after Rong Jiudao! I’m going to kill him!”