The Erasure Of Legend

Chapter 7

The Steward no longer bowed. His back, usually curved, was now bolt upright, as stiff as a gallows pole. The sword in his hand was steady, its red tip pointing directly at Li Wei's Adam's apple. There was no trembling, no hesitation.

"How much is my head worth, Uncle?" Li Wei's voice broke, his throat as dry as if he had swallowed sand.

The old man did not answer. His smirk widened, revealing black stains between his teeth from the residue of soul-strengthening poison. Around them, the rhythmic stomp of boots hit the marble. Spears narrowed their field of movement, creating a forest of iron that locked Li Wei and Mei Ling in the center of the hall. The smell of rust and the copper tang of blood filled his nostrils.

"Don't look into his eyes," Mei Ling whispered. The girl's fingers gripped Li Wei's shoulder, her nails digging deep enough to pierce the fabric of his robe. "He's been hollowed out. He's just a vessel."

Wonderful! The Sky Demon crawled along the walls of Li Wei's consciousness, its voice like sandpaper on bone. Look at your loyal servant. Let me borrow your fingers, Scholar. I'll rip his throat out before he can even blink.

Li Wei clenched his jaw until his teeth groaned. He raised his black brush. "I have evidence of tax embezzlement that could bring down half the ministers at the front gate!" he shouted. His voice echoed off the high ceiling of the hall.

The Commander at the front line laughed. His voice was hoarse and dry. "The Emperor wants your head before dawn. Taxes cannot buy back a life that has already been sentenced to death."

"Attack!"

The air shattered. Li Wei spun his brush, snapping the thick ink to form a liquid shield in the air. The clatter of metal meeting black energy was deafening. Every time a spearhead touched his shield, the vibration traveled into Li Wei's marrow, hot and burning. Beside him, Mei Ling moved like a shadow; her fan struck the bowstrings of the archers on the balcony, severing the flow of the attack before the arrows could fly.

Li Wei’s vision began to flicker. Red crept into the corners of his eyes. The demon's influence was no longer a mere whisper, but a physical demand. The muscles in his arms throbbed and swelled, his movements turning savage. He was no longer merely parrying; he was attacking. The tip of his brush sliced through armor like a hot knife through lard.

"Li Wei, control yourself!" Mei Ling shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the thundering crash of the hall doors being thrown open.

An immediate silence took hold. The soldiers retreated, dropping to their knees until the clatter of armor echoed in unison across the floor.

At the threshold stood a man in dragon robes that swept across the floor. His face was flat, as hard as a carved tombstone. In his right hand, he held an ivory-white brush that emitted a pale light, blinding to the eye. That divine aura slammed against Li Wei’s dark presence, forcing the Sky Demon to shriek in agony inside Li Wei’s head.

"You have overstepped your bounds, Scholar," the Emperor’s voice was low, yet it vibrated deep within the chest. "Justice belongs to the Throne. You are nothing more than a stain that someone forgot to wipe away."

The Emperor raised his white brush. Without any further movement, a wave of pure energy surged forward. Li Wei tried to raise his hand, but his body felt as heavy as lead. The holy seal locked his joints in place.

"No!" Mei Ling leaped in front of Li Wei.

However, before the energy could strike, something dark exploded from within Li Wei’s black brush. The thick mist did not attack the Emperor; instead, it coiled around Mei Ling’s body. The girl’s eyes turned stark white, and the veins at her temples blackened and bulged. Mei Ling’s body rose into the air, radiating a pressure that caused the surrounding marble pillars to crumble.

"The Demon Ancestor..." the Emperor whispered, his stride faltering. His grip on the white brush tightened until his knuckles turned pale.

Mei Ling—or the entity borrowing her skin—turned toward Li Wei. The corners of her lips curled into a smile the princess never possessed. "Choose, Scholar," the voice echoed with a dual resonance, masculine and feminine at once. "Shall I level this palace to the ground, or will you die a hero who will never be remembered?"

The Emperor did not wait for an answer. He lunged with a short sword drawn from beneath his robes, aiming for the heart of the possessed Mei Ling.

Li Wei did not think. His forensic logic was dead. He released the last of his energy, lunging between them.

Thuck.

An absolute cold pierced through the left side of Li Wei’s chest. He saw the tip of the Emperor’s sword emerge from his back, drenched in blood that gave off wisps of black smoke. The demon’s shadow shrieked before being sucked back into the brush lying on the floor. Mei Ling’s body slumped, falling into the embrace of Li Wei, who was beginning to lose his footing.

The world spun. Li Wei fell to his knees, warm blood flooding his lungs. Through his blurring vision, he saw the hall doors open once more.

A man in tattered robes stepped inside, holding a scroll with a seal that should have been destroyed twenty years ago. The figure stopped directly in front of the frozen Emperor.

Li Wei tried to speak, but only bubbles of blood escaped his lips. In the final second before darkness claimed his consciousness, he saw the man in tattered robes unfurl the scroll, and the Emperor’s face turned deathly pale—an expression of fear purer than death itself.