Urmie
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Chapter 93: Cavern
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 23:18:56 +0000 UTCIt took him longer than it should have to realize that the arrow that pierced him was coated with poison. And not just any poison. Poison that seeped into his qi veins and disrupted the flow of qi in his body.
It was only when the qi he had molded and shaped around his sword became unstable that he realised that the poison was destabilizing his flow and slowly making its way to his core. He could suppress it and discharge it from his body, but that would take concentrated meditation. Something he had neither the time nor the space to do at the moment.
That was exactly what these men had been counting on.
A dozen men pounced on him. Some of the most powerful ones in the group, he believed, while the rest went after his guards. He had no time to notice, but the Shadow Guards had surely come out of the shadows by now. The fact that none of them was able to come by his side meant that this entire group came prepared. His shadow guards were capable of taking at least three of these men at once.
He could feel half a dozen of them breaking off and growled. He wanted to follow the or at least send someone after them. They were clearly targeting his son. But these men were coming at him from all sides, leaving him no escape. And he could tell his men were in the same situation. He could do nothing but trust Ya’er to protect their son.
He did not remember much of the fight, his body moving purely on instinct. The poison attempted to make him sluggish. He forced his body to move despite the increasing heaviness weighing down on his bones. His opponents were not as powerful as he, individually. But together, they were certainly a challenge to the Huang Yasheng, who was slowed down by qi poisoning.
He could only hope that his shadow guards were able to call reinforcements.
He had cut down four of them - with one of the lucky bastards managing to graze his temple - when he felt his son’s qi disappear. He’d made sure to keep track of it the moment Ya’er had turned and fled. His throat closed up for a moment. That could only mean one of two things. One, Ah-Xu had met his end, or two, his mother had suppressed his qi just like when she had challenged him.
The second option was far more likely. And considering that those six men had not changed their general direction, it seemed he was right. His concubine was leading the men away. He clenched his teeth. If she was leading them away, it meant that she was planning to face them.
The split second of distraction cost him. One of his assailants drove a spear toward him, aiming for his heart. His instincts allowed him to turn his body just in time for the spear to pierce him in the side. He could tell that it barely missed his stomach. Before he could respond, the man had pulled out his spear, making pain rip through him. He ignored it and spun into the assailant’s range, bringing his sword up in an arc and beheading him.
He turned to face the rest of the men, struggling to keep them all in sight, his stance unstable. He could take them on. It would not be easy in this state but it was not impossible. However, it would inevitably delay him. Or he could go to Ya’er. He did not like leaving her alone to deal with the men chasing her.
He debated for a moment before he came to a decision. There was one advantage to having his qi go wild. He rushed his qi to the palm of his hand and then let go. The action resulted in a strong shockwave within a few feet of himself that pushed his attackers back. And most importantly, it was powerful enough to disorient their senses for just a moment. It was enough.
He flew through the gap in their formation and put all his malformed qi into moving himself forward, towards those six signals that had now stopped moving. Ya’er had stopped there, it seemed. He hoped. He cursed the fact that the woman had no qi to speak of whatsoever. Not even the minuscule amount present in peasants that keeps them alive. He did not know how that was possible, but apparently it was.
Behind him, he could feel the men recovering and moving rapidly towards himself. And ahead of him, he felt one signature disappear. It seemed his beloved concubine had started her spree. Still, he could not shake off the sense of unease.
He sped up, trusting his instincts.
And it was a good thing that he did too.
He found her on her knees, held down by a man while another had his sword raised. He saw red. Gathering all his unstable energy, despite his screaming muscles and qi veins, he shoved all of it down to his feet and blasted off, bursting out of the woods.
The rage flowing through him was like nothing he’d ever felt before. All he wished to do was rip apart those bastards who hurt Ya’er. His body responded easily, his sword cleaving clean through the torso who was just about to swing his sword down on Ya’er. His body moved on sheer rage and reflex, feeling the presence of another just beside him and slashing at one of the weakest points a human could have - his knee. His sword then drove through his throat and pulled out. The man dropped to the ground, thrashing for a moment as blood gushed onto the ground like it did from a slaughtered animal.
He turned, only to find Ya’er snapping her captor’s neck. Pride and savage satisfaction coursed through him. But he had no time to speak to her.
His pursuers had finally caught up to them. He saw them appearing out of the woods. His hand, clenched around the hilt of his sword, trembled. His very bones protested at any movement; his wild use of unstable qi had damaged both his muscles and qi veins. He could feel his core spinning wildly, trying to restore itself even as its branches thrashed around wildly. He was in no position to fight, right now. He had not felt this helpless since… since he was bed bound after his uncle had taken over the throne.
He made a split-second decision.
Turning around, he ran, grabbing Ya’er by the waist and jumping into the running water below.
The river swallowed them like a beast.
Cold hit him first - sharp, merciless - and then the silence. The roar of the wind by his ear vanished into a storm of bubbles and water. He held her tighter, bracing against the current. She was limp in his arms, but alive. Still breathing. That had to be enough.
He kicked hard, lungs burning, eyes half-blind from the blood and the river spray. The water battered them against the rocks, tugging at his grip, threatening to tear her from him. No. He tightened his hold. Not now. Not here.
There - a break in the cliffside. A flicker of darkness behind the curtain of falling water. A hollow.
He angled toward it, muscles screaming in protest. His shoulder barely responded. His ribs felt cracked. But he forced himself onward, fury and the long forgotten feeling of fear propelling him.
They broke through the waterfall like ghosts through a veil.
The sound of the world disappeared - the hammering roar of the river silenced behind a wall of crashing water. Behind the curtain of falling water, a cavern.
Not large. Not grand. But hidden.
Dark. Damp. Silent.
He stumbled forward, lifting her onto the nearest dry ledge — a flat slab of rock slick with ancient moss. She didn’t stir. Her skin was clammy, flushed with fever. Even in unconsciousness, her body trembled, not from cold but from the fire inside her veins. The poison was burning through her fast. Too fast.
He touched her throat. Her pulse was faint. Shallow. But there. She was fighting it -fighting like she always did - her body burning hotter than it should, eating through the venom in frantic resistance.
He turned, assessing their shelter. The cavern widened slightly at the back, the floor rising just enough to escape the reach of the river’s spray. Ancient roots hung from cracks in the stone above, their ends gnarled and dry. Moss carpeted the corners. Driftwood lay scattered in a heap against one wall, likely dragged in during some storm long past.
Near the rear wall: a crate, half-splintered with rot. Signs someone had once used this place. A long time ago.
And beyond that, still water, pooled in a basin of natural stone. Glass-smooth and black as obsidian. At its edge, a tunnel yawned open. Low. Narrow. Not made for ease of passage. But it was something.
An exit. A last resort.
He moved quickly now, working through the pain, dragging branches and dry roots into a pile. He grabbed a few stones to use as flint along the way. His flint sparked, hands trembling. Once. Twice. Then flame. A flicker. A crackle.
Light.
Heat crept into the stone walls, banishing the worst of the damp and cold. He pulled his outer robe off and laid it over her. Pressed a hand to her forehead. Burning. But her breathing had steadied, just barely. Still too close to the edge. She was, however, recovering on her own somehow. She needed time.
He reached inside the robe he had laid over her and pulled out a vial. An antidote that would slow down most poisons, made especially for him by the Head Imperial Physician. He always carried a vial with him. It might help him stabilize his qi, just enough for him to meditate and restore it within a few hours.
He pulled the lid and, without hesitation, pulled Ya’er’s mouth open, pressing the cial to her mouth and pouring all of it in, praying that it would be enough, that it - along with Ya’er’s resistance - would hold off the poison until they got out.
If he’d had a stable qi flow, he could have tried to extract the poison. He’d learned to do so on himself a long time ago. He’d never used it on anyone else, but he could have at least tried. But with how his qi was still dancing wildly, it might do more harm than good.
He forced himself to sit down, blood seeping from the gash along his side. His shoulder throbbed. His vision blurred. But he couldn’t rest. Not yet.
The waterfall would mask their entry. And the cave sat too far beneath the cliff to be visible from above. Still, unless his men came in time to slaughter them, the assailants would search. They’d check the banks. Check downstream. Maybe even double back. But they wouldn’t expect this.
They wouldn’t find this.
They couldn’t.
He leaned his head back against the cool stone wall, sword within reach, hand pressed tightly to the wound at his side. He ripped the arrowhead out of his shoulder and tore his inner clothes before using them to bandage his wounds. Every breath was a reminder of how close he was to collapsing.
But he wouldn’t.
They needed to get out. But he could not, not with her unconscious and him barely able to hold on. They both needed to recover.
They both needed time.
They should have it.
He glanced at the entrance and the roaring river beyond.
They should not be able to find it.
But if they did … well, he’d burn the world before he let them touch her again.
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Author's Note: This chapter was hard for the sole reason that I did not know what kind of caves you find at cliffsides, rivers and waterfalls. And when I researched, I was so confused as to which one to use! We have the Emperor's POV for a change! And yes, he's more in love than he knows or is willing to admit. Next chapter, we go back to Samaya!
Thanks for reading! Lemme know your thoughts in a comment below!
