The first Assassin
756 Words
Chapter 5: The First Assassin***
Li Chen woke to the smell of steel.
Not a dream. Real. Cold, sharp, wrong. He opened his eyes and saw a sword tip an inch from his throat.
The assassin was dressed in white. Heaven’s white, not the pale moonlight of Xie Wuchen’s hair. Immortal robes, golden trim, a jade token at the waist that read _Northern Heaven, Third Corps_. His face was young, eyes colder than the blade.
“Reincarnation of Bai Ze,” the man said. No anger. Just fact. “Heaven decrees you cannot exist.”
Li Chen couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t a cultivator. He was an orphan with no spiritual roots. One thrust and he was dead. Again.
“I’m not—” His voice scraped. “I don’t even know who—”
“Your existence is blasphemy.” The sword pressed closer. A bead of blood slid down Li Chen’s neck. “The Demon Lord kept your immortal soul from the cycle. You should have dissipated three hundred years ago.”
Three hundred years. The number kept coming up. Three hundred years of silence. Three hundred years of that painting.
The sword drew back to strike.
The roof exploded.
Not the door. Not the wall. The roof, Black tiles and beams rained down as something hit the courtyard like a meteor. Dust choked the air. The assassin spun, sword raised, and froze.
Xie Wuchen stood in the rubble. Barefoot. Hair unbound, wild around him like a blizzard. He wore sleeping robes. He hadn’t even dressed.
He looked at the assassin. Then at Li Chen. At the blood on Li Chen’s throat.
Something in his face broke. Not cracked. Shattered.
“Leave.”
It wasn’t loud. It was worse. Quiet, hoarse, and final. The air turned to winter. The pear tree’s three blossoms froze solid and fell, shattering on stone.
The assassin was trained. Elite. He didn’t run. He attacked. Golden sword light flared, a killing move that could split mountains, aimed straight for Xie Wuchen’s heart.
Xie Wuchen didn’t move. Didn’t raise a hand. He just looked at the blade.
It stopped a foot from his chest. Then it reversed. Not deflected. _Reversed_. The assassin’s own technique turned on him, golden light driving back into his body. He had time to look surprised. Then he was mist. Blood and white robes, gone.
No sound. No grand qi flare. Just gone.
Silence crashed back in.
Xie Wuchen turned. Slow. He crossed the rubble and dropped to one knee in front of Li Chen. His hands hovered near Li Chen’s throat, not touching. Shaking.
“You’re bleeding,” he said. Voice raw. Like the blood offended him personally.
“It’s nothing,” Li Chen whispered. It wasn’t. His heart was trying to kill him. “He said... he said I’m Bai Ze’s reincarnation. That I shouldn’t exist.”
Xie Wuchen’s eyes closed. When they opened, they were wet. “Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.” Li Chen’s hand came up before he could stop it. He touched white hair. Just the ends. It was soft. Cold as snow. “But I keep dreaming about you. About braiding this. About calling you Wuchen.”
Xie Wuchen flinched like the name was a blade. He caught Li Chen’s wrist. Not hard. Desperate. His thumb pressed to Li Chen’s pulse point like he was checking it was real.
“Say it again,” he said. Hoarse. Broken. “Say my name.”
“Wuchen.”
Xie Wuchen bowed his head. White hair fell forward, hiding his face. His shoulders shook. No sound came out. But Li Chen felt it - warm, wet drops hitting his knees. Tears.
The Demon Lord who leveled sects was kneeling in dirt, crying over a mortal’s neck wound.
“Don’t leave me again,” Xie Wuchen said into Li Chen’s robes. Not an order. A plea. “Please. A-Ze. Don’t leave me again.”
Li Chen didn’t correct him. Didn’t say _I’m not him_. Because his chest hurt like his heart was remembering. Because white hair under his fingers felt like coming home.
Outside the courtyard, three more white-robed figures landed on the palace wall. Heaven had sent more.
Xie Wuchen looked up. Tears still on his face. His eyes went black. Empty. Dead.
“They’ll keep coming,” he said softly. “Until the world ends, they’ll keep coming for you.”
He stood. Put himself between Li Chen and the wall.
“Let them come.”
- Writer
