The Tyrant Emperor would be gone?
Tian Han… would be gone?
His lips straightened into a line, and he swallowed down a lump in his throat.
A pair of icy fingers pressed against his cheek, yanking his face back into locked eye contact. "I'm going to need an answer," The Imposter said.
It was as if Fu Ran's body had completely frozen. Getting rid of the Tyrant Emperor sounded like the simplest way to avoid most problems in his life. Both his present and his future would no doubt be overrun with dangers involving that man.
If the Tyrant Emperor were gone… could he go back to sitting in his teahouse, gathering dust as the days passed by?
Fu Ran paused like he was giving serious thought.
If survival was truly his top priority, then he had already made too many mistakes to count. His first major mistake being; thinking that the Tyrant Emperor could be kind.
A solemn chuckle slipped past Fu Ran's lips. "Is he really so deplorable that you hate him that much?"
Fu Ran's cheeks were suddenly caught between thumb and forefinger, squeezed with enough force to make him flinch.
"You listen here." The Imposter's voice dropped into something volatile. "I don't know how he's twisted your mind, but have you not had enough?" With every word, he inched closer, their foreheads nearly touching.
The edge of the balcony dug into Fu Ran's lower back. His heart beat staggered as he caught a glance at the sheer drop behind him; if this kept going he would fall.
The Imposter's breath was hot against his face. "That whole damn sect wouldn't care if you were dead. Your family. What makes you think some nobody-begotten emperor would be any different?"
Fu Ran grabbed up a fistful of ratty white robes, and snapped, "Why are you not certain of that answer? You know every other thing about me, so why not this? If you're really me, then act like it!"
The mirror-like expression faltered for a fraction of a second. A haze of emotions shifted his features from shock, to annoyance and then joy.
The Impostor chuckled darkly. "Heavens," he murmured. He threw his head back and didn't even try to hide the look of judgement. "Was I always this annoying to deal with?"
He watched every single twitch like a hunter.
"Fine." The Imposter threw his hands to the side, more akin to dramatics. "You've made a poor choice, and are useless to me. Just wake up already."
The man's body twisted. Fu Ran had no time to react as a spiritual blast was sent right into his chest. He was tumbling backward over the balcony.
Wind tore at his robes, and he yelled. Even in a dream, the human mind was not keen on the idea of death. His heartbeat kicked up every single time something like this happened.
The cobbled stone of the Faceless City grew closer.
However, he was not even given the satisfaction of quenching his morbid curiosity—what would happen if he hit the ground? Before he woke up.
The blackness of night fully encompassed his vision, and only a small gasp ruined his attention. Fu Ran turned to look, but his forehead tapped against hovering fingers.
Tian Han was much closer than when he'd fallen asleep. Wan Yu was gone from between them, now tucked in to the side. The hand hovered over his forehead like it had been gently brushing his bangs. And in the dark was an interesting sight—golden eyes wide in shock.
"Tian Han is awake?" Fu Ran asked.
He looked like Tian Han had been caught. Embarrassment burned his cheeks red, barely visible in the dark. It was hard not to follow the shift of amber; they flicked towards the shadows to avoid direct contact.
"Shizun, I'm so sorry."
It was always the same thing. Like he'd broken some unspoken boundary, he apologized.
I didn't even say anything… Fu Ran looked away. When he spoke, his voice sounded more drained than he expected. "You did nothing wrong."
It was clear that Tian Han was doing his best to maintain a proper distance, and yet he moved closer at Fu Ran's scratchy tone. "Shizun, I'm right here. Did you have a nightmare?"
Of course, he knew about those. Fu Ran's sleepy stare turned into a glare. He could feel his slim threads of privacy slipping away more than they already had.
However, he willed the tension to fade and softened his brows. Right now, anger given to Tian Han would simply prove to be misplaced. There with something else bothering him more.
Be rid of the Tyrant Emperor.
He wasn't exactly ready to make that choice, but The Imposter was something he didn't know—and thus, far more threatening than the future of abuse that he'd grown used to.
Why does he want me to get rid of Tian Han?
He hadn't realized how much he'd been staring. From Tian Han's perspective, it might have looked like Fu Ran was lost in the features of his face. Maybe that was why he was beet red.
Somehow, it was easier to bear when Tian Han looked like this. It made him feel less like a looming bad omen.
"Shi…zun?" His voice cracked, raspy, like a child stuttering to find an excuse.
"I've made up my mind," Fu Ran murmured. Between Tian Han and the Imposter, there's too much I still don't know. So, I won't let you die.
Tian Han blinked, confused, but Fu Ran shook his head to wave it off.
Instead he whispered, "Tomorrow, we will finish it. The Imposter's due at the temple by dusk. So we just have to beat him there."
He had made his decision and spoke his promise into existence. The only sounds in the room were Tian Han's soft breathing and the faint shuffling of a disciple on the other side.
Tian Han's brows drew together for just a second, and cut a glance to the noise. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, instinctively hushed. "It sounds like Shizun has been thinking a lot…"
"If he's alone—"
Tian Han raised a hand to pause him. "Let's continue this talk tomorrow. For now, you've barely rested for an hour."
The interruption caught him off guard, but Tian Han had a point. Lack of sleep would only dull his abilities, and he needed to be at his best.
Even though he nodded in agreement, his mind refused to settle.
Tomorrow's plan weighed heavily on him. A few concerns stood out: whether he could retrieve his lost sword, whether they would face only the Imposter or the golden-masked man as well, and most pressingly, whether he could fight in his current condition.
With only half his qi meridians functioning, going into battle seemed reckless. But there was no other choice. He would have to make do with what strength he had. Tian Han was a skilled fighter—he would likely have to rely on him more than usual.
Taking slow, measured breaths, he calmed himself and began mapping out battle strategies.
The Imposter would fall. The mission would be completed.
And then, finally, they could go home.