Were the Mountain Masters gods?

Gods were both kind and cruel, the reasons for their actions unknown to anyone except themselves. They did not bleed nor see the sorrow of death as they frolicked in their internal life. So far, the Mountain Masters exceeded these idealisations; they forever lingered in the shadows and gossip of the two kingdoms. The question of their godlike nature haunted emperors for generations, their fear blooming into plans of rebellion. Were they gods or were they men? Did they control everything? Did a normal man stand a chance at winning?

Hanxiong only proved godly by his unnatural speed. He bolted across the palace, away from the soldiers wrath and used dark corners like fated safe havens. With cat-like grace, he moved through the allies and paths without a single sound. The warmth of Tai's limp body still lingered despite the distance between them. The image of blood flowing from his neck haunted him, almost as much as the question where the man's head was now.

As for his fighting skills, Hanxiong acknowledged his un-godly weaknesses. For years, he avoided combat especially if it involved endurance or multiple enemies. As a result, he lost his keen awareness and predictions in dire situations. No god would be wounded like him right now. This sign showed the need for his apprentice to take the role. Would the Masked Masters accept?

""Where is that intelligence now?!"

The screeched words froze Hanxiong. Somehow, he knew what happened metres away just like he knew the poor odds of his son's survival. However, this time he was close enough to intervene. Without hesitation, he used his speed to run straight into the warzone. No shadows protected him as he emerged into the flame-lit courtyard.

A few soldiers littered the ground and Mingzhu, who wore a mask splattered in blood, panted over them. Her eyes stared at Joaolong and the stationary head. Huli's blade, held high and poised to attack, forced Hanxiong to dive in. He refused to let the true ruler die. His son protected this man for years. He had to do the same for the next few minutes. But would he make it?

The sword pierced down. Joaolong exhaled in defeat. Mingzhu let out a silent scream. Droplets of blood fell to the ground. However, when Huli looked at his victim, a unique fox mask glared back.

"By the blood that has smeared the mountains," Hanxiong growled at Huli, "the Masked Masters will destroy you."

Pain tore through his body. No amount of adrenaline hid it. Yet, he kept his breaths shallow and controlled. He willed himself to be unbreakable and this determination made it so. He felt every inch of the blade withdrew from under his collarbone but kept his mind on the important fact; Joaolong remained alive beneath him.

The sword slide back from under his collarbone in a quick movement. Huli stepped back. At first, he appeared startled but as this shock wore off, his posture returned stoic and he drew near once more.

"Run!" Hanxiong ordered Mingzhu and Joaolong. "Run or let me die in vain! Mingzhu, save someone!"

The words had the desired effect. The girl acted on instinct, stuck in a memory of her training, and ran to Joaolong. She dragged him up and beside him, another woman helped. The harshness of her cheeks showed her malnutrition. A slave? A prisoner? At this moment, Hanxiong did not care. As long as they all escaped.

"Where were we?" He asked the emperor and stood. The wound protested but he grabbed a sword from a fallen soldier. Since the injury ruined his right arm, he had to fight left-handed.

"Another Fox?" Huli scoffed. "Why won't you all die?!"

Sorry my friend, Hanxiong thought to Tai's head and rolled it away from further harm. A second later, metal blades clashed together and hit each other at different angles. The rumoured sword-play talent of Huli rang true; each attack remained powerful, swift and aimed towards lethal targets. It took Hanxiong a moment to analyse his opponent; incredible attack but the arrogance provided an opening. The weak defence beckoned him and Hanxiong exploited it. He calculated moments to wield his weapon while timing kicks. Whenever he hit, Huli growled like an animal and his embarrassment made him try harder.

While his fury rose, Hanxiong changed tactics. He let the emperor corner him and cut shallow a few times. The satisfied smile from Huli looked similar to a demon. Good, Hanxiong thought. Ego is a dangerous weapon, young emperor. You will soon learn that.

One. Huli sliced Hanxiong's forearm, tearing at the fabric but missing his skin.

Two. His opponent raised his sword, ready to deliver a devastating blow.

Three. Hanxiong tackled the emperor using his good shoulder and drove himself out from the wall. Then, he rolled and returned to a strong stance as Huli coughed at his bruised stomach. As expected, anger took hold of the emperor. With a hurt ego, he would do anything to get revenge. This meant he had to chase.

Distance became vital to survival. Hanxiong doubted Mingzhu and Joaolong had enough time to climb over the border. I must flee, he deduced and let his feet step into a jog. From behind Huli shouted insults but pursued, guided by the small loss.

They ran through small pathways around the imperial building. Hanxiong kept at a slower pace to ensure Huli believed he caught up. Sheets fluttered by them as they weaved through the servant laundry and bushes scratched at their arms in unkept yards. Suddenly, the path widened and forked, forcing the Fox to halt. His chest throbbed and blood covered his robes.

Behind him, the footsteps ceased. It felt wrong. Hanxiong needed Huli to follow him. Why didn't he? Did he find Joaolong and Mingzhu sneaking over the border wall? With the little strength left, Hanxiong stumbled back down the path he came to certain death. However, something worse waited him.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked in bewilderment.

Despite the darkness, he recognised Cheng's face. Over the years, he aged dramatically and stress wrinkles turned him into a shrivelled fruit. The charm he enamoured so many with had faded. This was the cause of Bai Juan's death and suddenly, Hanxiong knew why Mingzhu hated him; greed shone underneath the average-looking face. In an instance, Hanxiong didn't doubt this man killed his best friend's children.

Cheng grinned as he cradled a bloody body; he stabbed the emperor. "This way, I will be known as the destroyer of masks and saviour to the emperor. If he lives. I tried to avoid the major organs."

"You won't find victory against the Masked Masters," Hanxiong warned. "They wish the true emperor of Shanhe to be throned and so it shall be."

"Do all of them really want that? A secret heir comes with disagreements. A war across the whole kingdom over bloodlines would bring great devastation and prove they failed their original mission to keep peace. If I rule, no wars will come. It is the wisest decision."

"You speak like you have already won."

The grin grew. "I already have."

Like a magician, Hanxiong dropped to his knees. He felt the warmth and energy sap out of him. What happened? Did he lose too much blood? What had the advisor done? Meanwhile, while he sifted through these questions, Cheng placed the emperor down and waltzed over. Using a dagger from his belt, he stabbed Hanxiong in the chest without hesitation.

"Long live the old world."

Hanxiong glared back, already half-dead. “Long live the new dawn of Shanhe, Hong Yondan!”