Bloodshed on New Years

Xian Wu listened to the sound of the flute floating over the moonlit sky.

When he finally caught up with the reality of the situation, hatred and rage surged within him more and more with each passing note.

Xian Wu had met Chen Yuwen when he was very young, not long after he was picked up off the street by his shizun.

The first thing the young Xian Wu had done after being picked up by a wealthy martial artist was going to a liquor shop where Song fanxi sat down with Chen Yuwen. The two of them conversed and drank late into the night, while Xian Wu was mostly ignored but didn't care about that anyway. He was too busy being confused over how those two looked proper and spoke eloquently, but actually had dirty intentions and loose morals.

Almost a match made in heaven, and whenever they ran into each other within the vast world, be it chance or some other reason, they'd have a good time together.

Or at least that was how Xian Wu viewed it.

Song fanxi had been close with Chen Yuwen.

So close that Xian Wu, throughout his years of martial arts training, had even learned the art of poison needles from Chen Yuwen. Graceful Dragon Sect naturally didn't teach such underhanded methods. Xian Wu never knew why his master allowed him to be taught such things, either.

'Silent and unseen deaths are the least troublesome.' Chen Yuwen had told him when he asked why poison needle arts even existed.

Xian Wu learned the truth of those words firsthand.

On New Years Xian Wu was turning nineteen, and he awoke from slumber with a hangover at Graceful Dragon Sect. The air was chilly and winds gusting against the door, snow dusting the ground. He lived in a house constructed adjacent and close to his Song Fanxi's.

But it was quiet tonight, unnaturally so.

Song Fanxi would never stop drinking on New Years until dawn. He never passed out, and Song Zhenxi would always want to prove her meddle by sticking along with her Dad, although she was not allowed to drink as much liquor because of her young age. Those two would always keep at it like a couple of slobs, and Xian Wu didn't have near as much alcohol tolerance nor patience to pull an all-nighter.

Xian Wu slipped on his boots and stepped outside.

The wooden hallway was devoid of life, the air stagnant with the cold. Not one soul, servant nor sect member, passed by. No lights were on in the mansion.

Something was wrong.

He stepped towards the main hall where his shizun and everyone had been drinking. Had there been an emergency, that was why it'd gone quiet, the party disbanding early?

The double doors, carved intricately with dragons that twisted round phoenixes and flew over the skies, embellished in gold, were cracked. Xian Wu hurried to open the door.

The room was pitch black.

Panic began to set in as his foot hit onto something like a puddle, making it splash, but the liquid was thicker. It smelled like rust and metal.

"Shizun!" he called. "Shimei! Are you here?"

Light. He needed a light. He grabbed one of the torches hanging from a wall and used his internal force to give it a blue and orange glow.

A sea of blood and bodies lay within the main hall. Goblets of liquor had spilt, mixing in translucently with the crimson. Servants and sect members, those he'd known for years, elders who had meant more to him than mere teachers, but family, lied strewn over the ground.

Motionless.

Xian Wu's pupils slowly went about the room, whatever he could see from his single dim light, and they turned bloodshot.

There was the silver hair of his shizun on the ground near the seat at the head of the table, lying face down in the blood. Song Zhenxi was alongside her father. She was not more than a girl thirteen years of age.

…this can't be real?

"Shizun? D-Don't play jokes like this, that's mean," Xian Wu whispered, in denial. "You did this to scare me, didn't you? Although you've never gone this far before. Haha, it's not funny."

He stepped forward, staggering, blood sloshing over his boots.

"…shizun, come on, stop it," he croaked as he fell to his knees at Song Fanxi's side. He dropped the light in his hand.

Xian Wu turned over Song Fanxi's body in his arms and lifted up his limp head, letting the coagulating blood sully his robes. Something nearly poked into his hand from behind his shizun's neck. A needle was lodged in there, its silver length nearly hidden by the similar colored hair. Xian Wu's hand shook as his fingers touched under his neck for a pulse.

Nothing.

Xian Wu did not even have the ability to think anymore. He was distraught, his eyes burned hot and he clenched his jaw until it hurt.

No…this can't be happening…

There were needles in the other bodies nearby as well. A once jolly group of more than ten people, celebrating New Years, now lay in their own blood.

From these needles, these damned needles.

Xian Wu pulled it out of his shizun's neck with care. Bitter tears ran out of his eyes to the point he was unable to even look properly at the needle between his fingers. It probably paralyzed Song Fanxi, then the culprit could take him time delivering the final strike.

But how could everyone allow this to happen to so easily?

Unless…

Xian Wu searched the room mindlessly. But Chen Yuwen was nowhere to be found. He had been here as well, of course. He'd often attended the New Year's celebrations. He also knew how to use poison needles and was one of the few Song Fanxi trusted fully.

It was him who did this.

Why...?

But did it matter why? Xian Wu could only let his fingers rake into his hair as that sense of betrayal twisted like a knife in his heart.

There was a weak cough.

"Who?!" Xian Wu startled. He raced over and found that it came from Song Zhenxi. He leaned down and checked her pulse. Her heart was beating.

As he checked her over, there were no major wounds besides what seemed to be a head injury from blunt force. Xian Wu lifted her body and hugged it.

He would be too sad to tell her what happened when she awoke.

Or did she already see it unfold before her eyes?

…

After a few days where Xian Wu almost lost his mind, he found out that the Demon-Swaying flute was missing. That treasure had been stolen. It was one his shiuzn always kept on his person.

And reality wasn't kind.

Graceful Dragon Sect had lost several of its core members. It was in shambles, and became a laughingstock in the Martial Arts Sphere for allowing its innermost treasure to be stolen and Sect Master murdered. Even more so since he died during a banquet and drinking party.

To outsiders, Graceful Dragon Sect got what it deserved for being lax.

Xian Wu was left behind, feeling both too young and inexperienced and stupid to be the Sect Master even if he was the succeeding disciple. He struggled to learn how to run a Sect and fight off the depression of the death of his shizun.

Although Song Fanxi trusted the wrong man, Xian Wu did not blame him. His master perhaps deserved quite a few slaps from women he'd had trysts with, but never deserved such a cruel death.

There was, of course, no one in this world he despised more than Chen Yuwen.

His sect members had searched for him for years but were unable to locate him.

…

Now Chen Yuwen appeared in front of him like this after all this time. Melodic song from the jade dragon-swaying flute echoed in his ears tauntingly.

What else could it be but provocation? There weren't any nearby evils for the flute to have an effect on.

Xian Wu would not even bother with words, he threw out two poison needles at Chen Yuwen.

This was futile, however, the man was better at the temperamental nuances of the poison arts than Xian Wu, each of the slender needles were caught between his fingers out of the air.

Chen Yuwen smiled faintly as he played the flute as though greatly entertained.

Xian Wu gnashed his teeth, his gaze sharpening with hate.

Today he will have his revenge no matter what.