A Mask Broken
Author Note's: This is almost completely fictional, almost to no historical value except for the fact that Wei Yan did join Liu Bei after a betrayal of his lord, Liu Bei welcoming him with a warm greetings and Zhuge Liang going completely against Wei Yan's recruitment. So, no, Wei Yan didn't really killed all those Liu's. Nonetheless, enjoy the story and thank you for reading in advance
"Is that all you can speak?"
The fire of light flared into life, spurring the darkness into dark corners, and revealing Liu Bei's rather gentle smile to the masked warrior that wore an armor that smells like bones of the dead.
Wei Yan. That was his name.
The rebellious warrior, which the Sleeping Dragon had warned his present lord about his wavering loyalty, only replied his answer with the way of the wordless ones; a deep tumbling grunt from his throat. His shrouded eyes, only hidden behind the mask that twirls with rotting greens and defying purples, only watched those kindling onyx eyes that held hopes of a land of virtue.
A dream that was simply too ideal to achieve…
And a voice that mocked the lord subconsciously for his inherited deeds with words left unsaid.
Once again, Liu Bei only simply rewarded Wei Yan's restrained quietness with his rather flattering smile, almost unaware of those atrocious thoughts that swam beneath the tenacious features and the light of the blaze licked the voulge with a deadly shimmer.
Just one quick, swift and silencing move…
"Very well then, I suppose today's battle has exhausted you quite a bit… Perhaps you should yield to rest."
The golden ends of his mask only flicker a signal of departure, as the garnished bones only clicked against each at each step the silent warrior took away from his future lord's chamber.
It was just one move, one swift spin on his end of the sharpened blade that had spilled enough blood today. That was all it took to end the Lord of Virtue's life and Wei Yan couldn't bear to watch fresh blood being spilled out of his beating pulses. He wasn't able to fulfill the exact same task he did to Han Xuan and there was no explaining why he just betrayed his past without considering it.
Damn that bewitching smile.
Filling the roar of his regrets and frustration, Wei Yan only cruised through the halls quicker than his usual speed; ignoring the dark, flaring blurs that spurred passed him. Ignoring the soundly scratches of his garnished armor, he felt his fist curled themselves into a tight deadly maul as his blood pumped into his brain; almost willing him to reel his footings and give the fake lord of virtue a deadly hack through his throat.
But he didn't.
Damn that bewitching smile again, it just kept flashing through his mind like if it was mocking at him for failing at his task. At his past and the people that died in his eyes.
Before the masked warrior knew it, the door let a loud protest at the slamming abuse he had put into forcing the chamber shut; almost caring how many people did he woke or scared amidst the night, though it brought a fright to he himself as he knows what sort of reputation he has upheld ever since he had revolted with those blood of his former lord painted across his armor.
The battle of Jing was a bloody battle, almost of a battle of the fairs and the equals. The newly recruited warrior never thought the chance of bringing another Liu's head with splattered blood would have came so close when Huang Zhong withdrew his scarred blade away from battle after an exchange of countered sparks from the Blue Dragon of Shu.
That wasn't where the chance revealed itself however.
A quiet rustling of the wild bushy hair resembled a rebel at the removal of the mask as the formerly masked warrior let out a sharp intake as the cool air caressed his scarred, burning face, breaking his thoughts thoroughly. The raw, melted face of Wei Yan was uncovered as a trembling finger gingerly reached out to touch the flaming flesh of his face; only to withdraw quickly his touch in a shocking pain in contact of his cool flesh.
The pain lurked underneath his flesh like a snake under tunnels of sand. Almost like if one forced him into a burning furnace with only his face in and his body under a chamber of ice; allowing the flames to lick his flesh away.
These scars, the only physical remnants of his past, were to haunt him at night and at day. Even at the battles he attended, which he had learned to embrace the pain; forcing the exact same pain upon those who stood at his way at his own will and risk. Bringing the exact same suffering to those that had put a tragic end on his life and mutilating their face in the same disfigured pain he had to bear behind his mask.
But for now, his time is still lurking upon the future along with his game.
Quickly and hastily slipping on his mask, allowing the cool surface of the cruelly painted mask to become one with his face again, hiding the cruel face he had acquired. The invisible pain shivered and died away at the moment the mask plastered over his features; almost as if the pain was from shame rather than the actual maiming.
Wei Yan only let a brief grunt as his eyes drifted with tiredness, slumping onto the bed that was prepared for him and no one else.
The night was peaceful with a soft wind, perhaps peace itself would come to his mind with rest…
Only he knows that will never happen.
"Hey kid, you seem to have a lot potential…"
It was just a foolish dream.
One foolish goal that had set him into this sadistic path.
He spun elegantly with his voulge, slicing the air with a clean cut. Unlike his present counterpart, he wore no mask, no armor that smells like the bones of the dead and has a face of a young man with hopes and ambition of a famed general.
He and the peace that surrounded him was one, as he twirled the deadly twin blade around his fingers with ease and grace; allowing the sun to shine upon his sweat and joy as a warrior of a truly unique weapon.
Twirling a voulge that was clean and was neither scarred nor tainted with moral's blood.
Leaping one foot to another, the memory was now only tainted by regrets of his foolish anxiousness.
It was meant to be another day, but when his first lord passed the plains with his personal guard spotted the shine of the clean blade, the harmony of the memory dived into hell.
He was greeted with that same enticing smile, that same empty smile that carried nothing of such promise when that sour breath came into a false promise. Liu Biao squeezed the inexperienced youth on his shoulder, smiling a smile that spoke nothing of the past.
"You will do well in my army, Wei Yan"
Those naive young eyes brightened with the anxiety and the pulsing thoughts of actually having his dreams achieved and to have his deceased father's unique martial art style; to spread it out and tell those hissing silhouettes that his father was no traitor to the country.
The sun was still bright when he eagerly nodded to the agreement and neither the trees nor the winds showed any protest.
It was sickeningly tranquil.
How wrong he was to judge the weather with his choice without seeking his logic and now along the path was nothing but regrets and pain.
He trained hard under Liu Biao's guidance, under those shifty whiskers and those toothy grins he received. He thought it was a look of compliment from his former naivety and could careless of those harassing cool air that rebels against his perspiring body from the strain he had forced himself into.
But now, he really wished he had told his first master that he was sick and weary.
It was just less than two months that he finally was unable to keep up with the weariness of his worn body, and that was when the lord stopped smiling as a touch of grimness from the malicious stare followed.
He felt his stomach turned with horror and felt the room spun upon him as the wicked lord had pulled the youthful warrior aside from his training at one sunny day.
Just like that day when he found the training juvenile.
Those sneers, that sour breath, his demonic grinning eyes; it was all implanted in his memories forever as those daunted words crept out of his tongue and spilling from his lips. It was like a snake was hissing its venomous fang at him.
And then it sank into his flesh and heart.
He couldn't keep up with the threat that was given to him due to the overtaking illness and within the next day, his family was dead in front of him; massacred by hand and blade of Liu Biao. Blood and chucks of flesh splattered over the room, even onto the dripping ceilings and the limbs were torn from piece to piece.
Pools of blood grow in front of him, allowing him to see his crimson reflection; only to watch the reflection became broken with the droplet of blood from his cruel master's sword. That seething feature only grew larger on his sight.
"You will be like your reflection if this continues."
Everything blurred around him as if the words had wrapped around him, everything became weak to his eyes and became an insensible grey.
There was one thing certain however, a scream that tore his inside; ripped his heart and lungs mercilessly, and making his throat raw on the tearful sound, erupted from his throat.
Then there was blackness and a maniacal laughter from the cruel, cruel man that was once thought as a noble.
The days he passed were in sorrow and despair, chained onto the devil that had enticed him with mere first impressions. The broken youth has no more will to train, but whatever those intimidating words lurked behind his back; he forced himself into the sun every single day with no joy of being a trusted warrior.
It was useless however, that man was too sadistic and enjoyed watching the blood spill out of the slivered man.
So sadistic that the pained warrior was forced to keep his sight from the torture he had to hold for the days he spent serving the treacherous lord.
He yelled and kicked, trying to punch away the stronger ones, but he was too feeble without a shard of his soul remaining in his strength. All he knew was that wet cloth was wrapped around his and whatever that devious man wanted to force onto his face was hot and was a blazing pain onto his flesh.
"Rip it out!"
When the sizzling coal touched his flesh, his throat wrenched into nothingness as the fire licked his former voice away and his scream was nothing but air. However, the unbearable flames of hell was nothing compared to the moment when that voice barked his command and the piece of fire was ripped away from the flesh that was melting onto the surface of the flame.
The agonized juvenile tried speaking, but all he rewarded was a pain that was impossible to endure. His tongue flipped with mere brushes of breath he can conjure however, "Just… just… let me… die…"
A grin only stretched onto the man that no longer even deserves to be called his original name. The demon only smiled and smiled at the hoarse, crappy and untamed sound that Wei Yan can speak and will no longer be able to regain that beautiful voice he once had.
It continued day to day, on his throat to his entire face except for where the wet cloth laid and soon, his body felt no more pain than the joy he could feel. His body grew strong on hatred however and the time for his revenge finally came.
A devil was born from a demon's hatred and the man that forced him into the pain he was undeserving of will soon regret. The devil who believed all Liu's are demons that daunt the world.
When the years of his scarred training passed away, the stoic man's skin was soot with the ashes of his flesh, brown and tainted of his very own blood.
His family's blade at his hand as the torches flickered along the path of the hallway he walked upon, almost as if welcoming the death of the night; trenching the darkness with a smell of blood. No one knew how did Liu Biao died when Wei Yan sneaked malicious poisons into his goblet; they all assumed it was an illness that struck him unexpectedly for all those evil doings he had done.
But when his son, Liu Zong, watched those cruelly edged blades emerged from darkness, shimmering with a deadly shine that spelled dead toward him and his family, he knew his father was murdered. There was nothing more he could about the same emerging fate however, when the golden trim of the blade spun into the air and splattering his blood across the well-rewarded armor of Wei Yan's position and onto the floor; strike after strike.
The bodies piled upon one another as Liu Zong became the first to fall with a pleasurable collapse as the blood pooled below the steeled boots, allowing Wei Yan to taste his first kill for his revenge, for his father, for his family.
Soon, one by one, family after family, first Liu Biao, next Liu Yao; was killed and each time, he burnt their faces with a scalding blade and their throat before leaving; allowing the people to see the horrible torture he had to suffer underneath the Liu's.
However, the night of his murdered family would not go away as cries from his brothers and sisters, the moaning of his mother would not escape his mind.
It just kept coming…
"Wei Yan…"
"Help us, brother!"
"Don't let us die! NO!"
And with a brief thrash on his bed, Wei Yan allowed his raw throat to let out an inhuman roar of hatred and distressed, sitting up on his bed and perspiring from the scene of his past; beckoning for his failure, mocking him for his uselessness.
Liu Biao…
Liu Zong…
Liu Yao…
Liu Pi…
All these men died under that battle-worn blade and their families were all slaughtered in the same merciless way he had decided to use to vent away his sorrow and failure toward his past. Their eyes burnt and their flesh melted was how each met one's end before their throat was allowed to spill away the crimson pain.
It was still night as the candle still flutter its soft fire as if saying that the general had slept no more than a hour.
This was his chance however.
His chance to bring another Liu with his face burnt and tarnished like the one the scarred man cannot remove from his face.
Throwing the wool aside with a comfortable flap, Wei Yan met the cool ground with his mask on.
This will be his night.
But the honest smile that came to his mind stopped his fingers from reaching for the candle and his sword; stopping him from performing that same cruel pain he had delivered to the rest of the Liu's.
Damn that bewitching smile.
The masked warrior snarled as he reached only for his sword, considering that he would spare the lord's face; but not his life. However, his fingers only trembled as the cool touch of the golden hilt of the sword greeted his touch.
"He could not be trusted, Lord Liu Bei..."
Zhuge Liang, the one that have eyes of a gem, just knows and could smell the blood of the Liu's he killed.
The Sleeping Dragon will be right, Wei Yan growled, as he hurried through the hall and quietly; dawn was breaking the skies.
The silver sword however, clutched within the tight armed hands of the scarred man, continued to tremble and viciously shook when he reached the doors of his lord's sleeping chamber; almost as if this was truly his first time to assassinate, while as the others' were nothing but dummies.
When the door creep open with a mild, gentle strength, Wei Yan took a short glance toward the sleeping form of his lord.
Unlike all the others he had killed; Liu Bei was simply peaceful like the sun that has lost its serenity when the haunting events happened.
Allowing the blade to graze the man of virtue's throat, yet without wounding him, Wei Yan watched the chest raise and fall.
Did he really want to kill this man for a mistake he didn't do?
Damn that bewitching smile.
Letting a small smile grace his rough features, the blade withdrew from its meant task.
The lord of virtue would live for now and until then…
Wei Yan walked out of his lord's room as if nothing would and should happen.
He would serve this man with a deserved loyalty.