"Get him! Stop the Sword-plundering Nemesis! He's got the Court Virtuoso!"

Shāng Bù Huàn frowned. He wasn't expecting this to be easy, breaking into the palace to steal a sorcerous sword. But a simple task in Shāng's mind had led him to Làng Wū Yáo himself. Shāng had never once expected Làng to be alive. He wanted it so badly to be true as they searched that ravine. He wanted it to be true as they carried Líng Yá into the mountains and set out a memorial for their friend. He wanted it to be true for the past two months.

And after a while, the hope felt pointless. He couldn't wish someone back alive, no matter how much his own decisions that lead to this ate away at him.

And now everything had changed as he exited that sword sanctuary. Làng was clinging to his shoulders, barely conscious and in an immense amount of pain. He had the sword tucked in his belt and the white pipa in his hand. He would have to fight his way out, but carefully. He wasn't going to lose his friend again. It couldn't get any worse than that.

"Well well well, how low can you truly get, Shāng Bù Huàn?"

That would be close to getting worse. Shāng frowned as Xiào Kuáng Juàn approached through the sea of imperial guards.

Xiào's plan was almost perfect. Use a sword to attract Shāng then deliver the villain's head on a platter to the princess. But Làng's presence had been a surprise. Xiào wasn't sure what the Virtuoso was doing here, but it added another problem into the mix. If anything happened to Làng, the princess would have Xiào's head. He'd simply have to force Shāng's hand, causing him to either surrender Làng or himself. Preferably both.

"Causing such a ruckus," Xiào shook his head. "Taking two sorcerous blades with you? So you can discard the living one after you're done with him again?"

Shāng frowned. So that was where Làng had gotten the idea. Xiào had planted it in his mind. "I think you've got your facts wrong here, Hunting Fox."

Xiào pushed his glasses up his nose. "And what, you're the bearer of truth? Hand over the Court Virtuoso and the Index."

"His name is Làng," Shāng said. "And I'm handing neither over to a snake like you."

"Take him down, but don't hurt the Virtuoso!" Xiào barked the order. Last thing he needed was Cháo Fēng kicking his head into the ground again.

Xiào had truthfully hoped to avoid Shāng ever knowing that Làng was alive, but now that he did, he would make sure that Shāng didn't leave here alive and that Làng would never know the truth.

The guard attempted to overwhelm Shāng. He took the white pipa, driving it into the guard like a blade. The qi blasted through them, sending them flying into the other guards. He had to protect Làng. He couldn't leave here without him no matter what. And with the grip weakening on his shirt, Làng could possibly lose consciousness from whatever was binding him. His breathing was becoming shallow and strained as he buried his face in Shāng's back.

The guilt still panged at Shāng's heart knowing that his own shortsightedness had put Làng in this position, but he was alive. Làng was still alive. He could fight again knowing that somehow, some way, they would reverse whatever was done to him.

"Straight ahead. Through the zen garden."

Shāng glanced over his shoulder at the weak instruction. Làng wasn't doing so well, and a retreat was the best option. If anyone knew the layout of the place, it was Làng. The way he came in certainly wasn't going to work with the tall walls and even taller trees. He took the pipa, swinging it widely and knocking the closest assailants backwards before leaping over the rest in the indicated direction. He jammed the white pipa into the guards who attempted to approach him as he landed.

Xiào scoffed, quickly following after them.

Shāng quickly arrived in the garden, setting Làng down for a moment before sling Làng over his shoulder. He could tell Làng was in pain as he grasped the back of Shāng's robe. "Hang on just a bit longer, Làng."

"Taking advantage of the Virtuoso in his condition," Xiào chided as he caught up with the pair. "How low can you truly get?"

"I'm willing to bet this is somehow your doing," Shāng frowned at him. "Taking his memories and his will from him. We already know you planned faking Làng's death by working with Lián Měi, sending him into that ravine as some part of a backwards deal with you." He wanted to stomp Xiào into the ground but that sort of thrashing would have to wait.

"And just how exactly do you think I could steal memories and will?" Xiào pushed his glasses up. "It's not like I know some kind of magic."

That grin told Shāng all he needed to know. This was the effect of a sorcerous sword. He now had one tucked into his waistband, the same one that Làng had desperately clawed at when he found him in the sanctuary. Làng knew something that he wasn't able to communicate just yet, hesitant from whatever lies Xiào had planted in his mind. But even with this deception, Làng could still understand the truth. Lost memories couldn't change that sense of good and evil he naturally had.

"To the right. The hallway leads towards the front."

Shāng turned, leaping upwards and landing the wall as Làng had instructed. He ran along the top of the hallways, hearing a clamor inside as the guard stirred to life throughout the rest of the palace.

"Stop him! Stop that villain!"

Shāng leapt over the stray arrows and thrown spears as he continued along the indicated path. He passed a courtyard now swarming with guards, but the larger trouble was the one who now followed him on the roof.

Làng could barely hear every noise, every word shouted, and the sound of Xiào aggressively pursuing them as Shāng carried him along. The Virtuoso was putting a lot of faith in someone he was told was a terrible evil, though everything he'd heard and felt at the sword sanctuary made him question how evil Shāng actually was and what was truly right.

He remembered the time before the missing two years. Everything felt clear then. He was the Court Virtuoso. He fought and sang as the sharpened melodic blade he was always meant to be. His mother would've been proud back then as he had accidentally found his way to the palace where his voice would always be protected. No one would be affected by his songs, entranced by them and driving people to villainy. It was where he thought he belonged.

But then the gap. That was where everything started getting lost. The stories that Xiào and Cháo Fēng had told him seemed like a truth, the tale of the Night of Mourning and the subsequent attempt to make him forget. Everything about that gap had confused him for the past two months, clawing at his mind like an incessant itch. He convinced himself he wanted to forget and live his songbird life.

And then Shāng showed up. The worst villain in all of Xī Yōu that didn't have an ounce of evil within him, the one who seemed to know him and regretted losing him, the one that actually seemed to care. Làng was trusting Shāng more than he was told he should, making a decision that could possibly cost him his life. But something deep within Làng's soul told him that this was the only way to recover what he'd lost in that two year gap.

If he hadn't gone with Shāng, if he was returned to the princess, would she be any better? She'd certainly do more than strike him with a teacup, especially if she found out he was trying to get the sword to remember. There was a good chance he wouldn't survive the night. He didn't want to return to her. He didn't want to stay in this palace of evil anymore It was a strange thought. Wanting something for himself.

He closed his eyes, his grip loosening on Shāng's robes.

They had nearly reached the gate when a swarm of guards clambered to the roof, attempting to cut them off. Shāng stopped, blocking Xiào's sword with the white pipa.

"Give up, Shāng Bù Huàn," Xiào demanded. "This will be the last blade you'll ever steal."

The situation wasn't exactly in Shāng's favor at the moment, but he wasn't about to surrender and leave Làng at their mercy. He had to rescue his friend. Làng now dangled unconsciously on his shoulders. If Shāng didn't treat him with some qi, he was worried Làng might not make it through the night.

He pushed the pipa forward, jamming it into Xiào's gut and pushing him backwards. He struck several guards with his foot, throwing them off the roof. Jamming the pipa down on the roof, he brought up several roof tiles with his qi. "It's time I leave with my friend and fix what horrors you've done to him! Formless Rogue Sword: Wild Dance of Roof Tiles!" As he drew the pipa back up, the roof tiles shot off in both directions.

Despite his best attempts, Xiào was overwhelmed by the ridiculous assault of clay roof tiles and thrown off the roof.

The remaining tiles careened into the swarm of guards, bursting through them and shattering any resistance in Shāng's path. Adjusting Làng on his shoulder, Shāng leapt over the bodies, over the outer wall, and out into the nearby forest.

As he left, he heard the most unholy scream he'd ever witnessed. The princess, he reasoned. Best to not have Làng stay there with someone like that.

Xiào had barely recovered, pulling himself back on the roof when he spotted Cháo Fēng boring a hole through him from her bedchamber window. He was going to get his face slammed into the floorboards for this. "Dammit. Damn that Shāng Bù Huàn!"

…..

Author's musings

How I wish I could see the roof tile attack made by puppets. I was imagining the final battle in the movie when I write this scene, how an epic escape would look if it were a sequel to Bewitching Melody of the West.

I'm sure season 3 will probably throw this whole story out the window but I don't care. I'm having fun with this.