The air inside the ruined temple turned several degrees colder. The leader's arm trembled, not from the weight of the knife, but from the crushing force of those pale hands holding his wrist.
He tried to free his hand, but with any further movement, he feared his wrist bone might shatter into pieces.
With a slow, fluid motion, Lord Yue sat up from the confines of the casket. The silk shroud adorning his body rustled in the wind, and his long hair, once pitch black, had now paled into white strands, stark against the color of the night.
"You… let… let me go," the leader wheezed, his previous display of bravado dissolving into the primal terror of a cornered animal.
Lord Yue's smile deepened. He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned closer, his face inches away from the masked man.
"I was told I would find peace in this transition," he whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy, like an eerie curse of a siren carried over the dark ocean. "But how can I rest when several eager guests come to visit me at such odd hours?"
The man's fingers trembled. Up close, the rot was even more terrifying. The blue-black veins beneath Lord Yue's eyes pulsed rhythmically, silver-white encroaching on his irises, like frost over a dark lake, narrowing the pupils into predatory slits, coupled with the pale strands of his hair…
The Lord looked anything but human.
"My lord… please let me go," the man begged, his hand losing its grip on the knife. The rusted iron fell to the ground with a ting, echoing in the silent temple like a funeral knell.
"Tch… Your heart is making so much noise. I am afraid it will disturb my benefactor's sleep," Lord Yue stated calmly, his eyes shifting in the direction of Yase, who was fast asleep, unaware of the chaos unfolding around him.
"Such a drunkard," he murmured with a disappointed shake of his head.
The lord turned his attention back to the masked assassin, who was now clawing at his fingers, trying to break free from his grip. At the man's frantic struggle, suspicion flickered in his eyes.
"Who sent you?"
The assassin quickly shook his head, denying any alliance. "No one…," he gritted his teeth. "Your rot will eventually harm our people. The lord must die for the people of Yan's sake," he stammered, trying to strike the lord's face with his free hand.
But Lord Yue was quicker. He caught it, clasping both hands and twisting them at odd angles, making the assassin grunt in pain.
"For the people's sake…," Lord Yue murmured, his lashes lowering as a shadow passed through his eyes.
For the people's sake… he had been hearing the same phrase from his grandfather, father, king, relatives, brothers, and everyone around him. He was taught to live for others, to always sacrifice for them—for the people of Yan, the same people who discarded him first and didn't hesitate to seal him in a coffin while he was still breathing.
When those people writhed in hunger, he granted them feasts. When they thinned from disease, he nursed them back to health. When the country was threatened by enemies, he stood at the front, receiving arrows to his chest.
But when… HE suffered, they didn't think twice about burying him alive.
The silver in his eyes flared, reflecting the pain of betrayal he had suffered. He tried… tried hard to forgive everyone: his dear people of Yan, his respected Majesty, his blood siblings, and everyone who hid their faces behind their fans, turning blind to his misery.
But with each passing day, the rot was not the only thing that tightened his chest, resentment grew as well. Resentment toward the people he once held dear to his heart, even when he was aware of the snake beneath their shed skin.
"You say I will harm the people of Yan?" Lord Yue's grip tightened until the assassin's fingers turned purple.
A low chuckle vibrated deep from his chest, sounding less like a man and more like a beast.
"You are right. For the first time in my life, I think I shall fulfill my dear people's expectations."
"If I am to be the rot," Lord Yue said, his voice dropping to a deadly thread, "then shouldn't I start by consuming those who brought the shovel to my funeral?" he rasped, his hand tightening around the assassin's hands until the sound of cracking bone echoed through the silent ruins of Tianlu Temple.
The painful cry of the leader echoed through the broken walls. The other men stood frozen, their bodies trembling in fear. When the Lord's gaze shifted to them, they shivered and dropped their weapons before running for their lives, leaving their leader behind.
The Lord gritted his teeth, the veins beneath his eyes turning purple, slithering like desperate, thirsty roots. His hand shot forward, gripping the assassin's throat in a venomous hold, choking the air out of him.
"Is it the King? Ministers of the court? Commander of the army? Or—"
Before he could finish, a soft white veil fell over his head….
Lord Yue stilled.
He slowly blinked, the thirst for blood instantly plummeted, the veins receding at once. The shadow in his eyes faded, replaced by a dull, empty clarity.
The violent rhythm of his heart gradually settled, and only then did he realize what he had been about to do.
His lips thinned.
Slowly, he released his grip and lowered his hand, resting it against the rim of the coffin.
Monster…
That was what they called him.
And he… he proved them right.
Lord Yue closed his eyes, as if to lull the monster in him to sleep.