Róng Guǎng • 容广

[Slashing cave wall in a frenzy 😭]

⊹˚₊⌁ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩? 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵? ⌁₊˚⊹

Ah, ahh, the way you say my name...oh, it sounds so good, oh so heavenly...

[Raises an eyebrow.]

Fucking hell.

Ugh, whatever. It's not worth it.

Get rid of me...get rid of this feeling...

I would have given you the world if you let me, I would have served my heart on a gold laden plate for you if you had let me.

I guess all things considered...we had a good long run together, my general...

Maybe this is how it will finally end. Me, in your hands, instead of you in mine.

I wouldn't be feeling like shit if I'm completely dead. Why do I even bother having strong feelings.

I don't.

I feel like shit.

I've only known to fight for something. Without anything, with nothing to fight for, what use is my existence for then?

Maybe this is how it will finally end. Me, in your hands, instead of you in mine.

//

Him at his general's mercy, Pei Ming stands in front of him. Oh, how truly...perfect and magnificent you are...]

Go ahead, my general. I'm only a person who betrayed you and your trust, led soldiers to their doom. Killed...and executed the innocent.

I'm not...worthy, of you.

overtaken him. Right there, in the middle of the inn. Where blood pooled over, Rong Guang kneeled helpless. He was covered in blood. The two swords he held a few moments earlier now lay at the ground, like a pile of scrap metal.

This scene was very much like the one before, so many years ago.

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A badge with a red tassel, shaped from metal, bearing the combined crests of the Pei and Rong families. And in the center, carved deep, a name.

Ming Guang.]

Heh, you're right. Why? Why do I even bother.

[He lowers his head, then falls to the ground, kneeling. As if the exhaustion has finally +

The weight of it all presses down on him, suffocating. But he doesn't speak. He just reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing against something cold. He takes it out and then throws it in Pei Ming's direction.

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But what can he do now? He can vent all he wants, he can kill all he wants, yet what would that solve? What would that prove?

Pei Ming is so far out of his reach now. Untouchable. Even if he claims he wants to kill him, can he?

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Then what is he even fighting for anymore?

Is it anger? Sadness? Betrayal? He doesn't know. Or maybe he does, but admitting it would shatter the only thing keeping him standing. He has spent so long carrying this rage, holding it close, feeding it with every grudge and every bitter thought.

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[At the mention of the past, Rong Guang fell silent. Still, his eyes never leave Pei Ming. He's right. He's always been right but Rong Guang so stubbornly refuses to admit. That after all this time, his general has always been...right, in so many ways. He was perfect.

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Very well, Xue Yang. You're not bad yourself.

[Harshly takes his hand back, rubbing the place where Pei Ming's grip on him was, wincing a little bit before he stares at the general menacingly.]

Don't get me wrong, my general. I just don't want anything between us until the day I'll have your head on my silver platter.

[Rong Guang's nature as a ghost might be an advantage to these mortals but against a god, a martial god no less. He's powerless against him. Yet that didn't stop him from trying to get his hands off.]

Hah, seriously? ONLY AFTER THERE'S ALREADY BLOOD SPILLED DO YOU ALWAYS INTERVENE. VERY TYPICAL.

Other people, fighting over you, for you. Recklessly throwing their lives away, for you? It must look amazing, for them to see you on such a high pedestal, huh? I wonder what would they feel like, if they found out that they threw away their lives for nothing? Hm?

He exhales, turning slightly toward the lone figure still seated at the front. The curl on his lips remain sick and twisted. His teeth flashing in a grin that's far too delighted for a man surrounded by the dying.]

Are you enjoying the show, General? Do you find it amusing? +

[He says his voice taunting. A dying person, he could care less about the gender, coughs at his feet, gasping something incoherent. Rong Guang tilts his head, watching, curious, then drives the heel of his boot down on the poor soul's throat, silencing it forever.

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