Fated | Fangs Of Fortune [ZhuYi]

Chapter 30 : Zhao Yuan Zhou

The air shimmered, fiery and electric. Zhu Yan's blood dripped steadily to the snow-covered ground from the blade embedded in his shoulder. Zhu Yan's eyes, dim and unfocused, locked onto YiChen's, whose midnight blue eyes held an abyss, on the verge of tears he refused to shed.

"Yuan Zhou" YiChen muttered, his voice low and trembling, desperate to reach through the malice consuming the man before him. He stepped forward, hoping to find a flicker of the Zhu Yan he once knew.

But Zhu Yan's lips twisted into a sinister smile. His dull, dark eyes suddenly ignited, their scarlet hue blazing anew. With a blink, the warmth of familiarity vanished entirely, replaced by something cold and inhuman.

"You missed" Zhu Yan snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

YiChen's heart clenched, but his resolve did not falter. He stood firm, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. His attempt to reach Zhu Yan had failed, but he was not surprised. This wasn't the first time he'd faced those unrecognizing eyes.

Zhu Yan moved like a shadow, his blood-soaked hand lashing out in an instant. His fingers coiled around YiChen's neck with a grip that was inhumanly strong. The sudden force knocked the air from YiChen's lungs, forcing his grip on the sword to falter. Gasping for breath, he clawed at Zhu Yan's hand, but it was futile.

Zhu Yan's scarlet eyes glinted with amusement as he tightened his grip. His free hand reached up, dragging the Cloud Light Sword from his shoulder with a sickening sound of steel scraping bone. He tossed it aside with a loud clank, its once-brilliant azure glow dimming against the snow.

"Yuan Zhou" YiChen rasped again, his voice hoarse and pleading. He struggled against the grip, but it was like fighting against stone. Zhu Yan didn't respond, didn't even falter. His expression was empty, devoid of anything but a cruel amusement.

The scene mirrored the past. That night. The crimson moon. The suffocating grip around his neck. The unrecognizing eyes. YiChen's vision blurred, and tears he could no longer hold back slipped silently down his cheeks, landing on Zhu Yan's bloodied hand. The cold snow beneath them seemed to mock the heat of their turmoil. The crimson moon cast a ghastly glow over the courtyard, bathing the scene in eerie light.

As YiChen's strength waned, his gaze dropped to the ground. His eyes sought the Cloud Light Sword, but something else caught his attention. Among the blood-streaked snow lay a small red jade pendant, its vibrant hue standing out even in the chaos. Beside it, broken and splintered, was the wooden ornament Zhu Yan had always worn at his waist.

YiChen's heart wrenched at the sight. Zhu Yan—had always carried it.

Always. Even now. Despite everything.

Summoning what little strength remained, YiChen reached a trembling hand to his chest. His fingers closed around the blue jade pendant that hung beneath his robes. With painstaking effort, he drew it out, the pendant dangling from its frayed rope. The jade, now darkened by the crimson air, felt cool against his palm. His vision swam, but he forced himself to raise his hand, lifting the pendant before Zhu Yan's face.

For a fleeting moment, Zhu Yan's scarlet eyes locked onto the pendant. They held no recognition, only confusion. But then... a flicker. Something stirred. His gaze shifted back to YiChen's pleading eyes, then back to the pendant. The flicker grew into something more. Recognition. Slowly, his grip around YiChen's neck loosened. His hand trembled as he stared at the jade pendant, the memory it carried washing over him.

Zhu Yan's eyes wavered. The scarlet glow dimmed, retreating like the tide. His pitch-black irises returned, filled now with something YiChen hadn't seen before—grief. A single tear slipped from Zhu Yan's eye, carving a trail through the blood and grime on his face.