This was supposed to be easy, Changze thinks as he ducks the slashing tendril of resentful energy. This was supposed to be merely information gathering for later so that they’d have enough proof that the Burial Mounds was out of control and needed to be dealt with. This wasn’t supposed to end up in a fight.
And definitely not a fight they’re in the process of losing.
”A-Ze, down!” his wife snaps in a tight voice and he drops immediately, smelling his scorched hair as the fire talisman grazes his head. It does little to nothing to the swirling mass of resentment but it gives him the chance to retreat with all his limbs still functional, at least.
Cangse has not been as lucky; blood runs down her right arm that hangs limply at a weird angle. The mass of resentment had thrown her against a boulder and her right shoulder shattered with a sickening noise. Her breathing is ragged but her smile is as fierce as ever, bloody teeth or not.
”Thank you,” he says. His voice is slurred and echoes strangely in his head, courtesy of a ringing hit on his head—the reason for Cangse’s injury as she shielded him when he went down hard and hit his head.
”This—is—” she starts, then coughs up a mouthful of blood.
”Bad,” he concludes.
”You should go—”
”Absolutely not!”
She draws a hissing breath through her teeth and snarls against the pain. ”I’ve already almost depleted,” she says with forced calm. ”My ribs are broken. My sword arm is useless. I’m—” she coughs again. This time the blood is bright red.
”I will not leave you!” he says in a low voice, almost growling.
She shakes her head, desperate. ”A-Ying is alone—you must—I can’t—”
”I left money and a letter for the innkeeper to send to Lotus Pier in case we don’t come back.” He knows Cangse doesn’t believe the Jiang sect would take A-Ying in but he knows better. No matter how they parted, Fengmian would not abandon A-Ying.
He reaches out his hand and cups her bloody cheek. ”I swore to stay by your side, Cangse, to follow where my heart leads. You are my heart, my beloved. Leaving you would be like carving out my heart.” He kisses her, ignoring the raging storm of resentful energy gaining speed and strength around them. ”And how could I face our son after I left his mama to die alone?”
He doesn’t tell her that the insistent headache has worsened to a searing, blinding pain behind his right eye. A tiny sliver of his spiritual energy tells him he’s bleeding inside his skull and even if he left now, he wouldn’t make it out of the Burial Mounds alive.
Instead, he presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes.
”I love you,” he whispers.
She lets out a small sigh that sounds like a sob. ”And I love you.”
Together, they stand up and face destruction.