under red skies

When he lifts his head, he turns away from the door—not exiting the Kiln immediately, no.

Before he does, there is one lesson he wants to make sure he doesn't forget—curse or not.

Deep in the depths of the caverns beneath the mountain, the Ghost King finds something.

Long since abandoned and forgotten.

A hammer, stained with blood and soot, reeking with resentment and power.

Hua Cheng lifts the spiritual tool between his fingers, glancing down at the scimitar, hanging by his waist—

When he smiles, E-Ming trembles with nervous energy.

He returns to the main chamber of the kiln, the blade E-Ming in one hand, the hammer of Guoshi Tonglu in the other. He lifts his scimitar in the air, willing it to hover in front of him at waist height, gripping the hammer with both hands.

When he leaves his place, he'll forget.

He'll keep his memories of Hudie—but he'll forget the man who cursed her.

He'll forget the mirror image of Bai Wuxiang, the author of this horrible, sick variation of a fairytale—

The Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu.

He looks up at the walls of the kiln, drumming his fingers against the handle of the hammer, his eyes flashing red, like the flames of damnation itself, whispering—

"Burn."

Upon his command, like a bloodstained inheritance, the fires of Mount Tonglu spark to life.

CLANG!

With each swing of the hammer, he embeds another layer of the Kiln's spiritual power into E-Ming, making the blade another measure stronger than it was before.

CLANG!

The newly formed muscles in his arms tends with the effort, straining against his sleeves, the heat scorching

CLANG!

With each new layer, he adds memory, violence, and power. Once, twice, three times. A dozen times.

A hundred times over.

CLANG!

When Hua Cheng leaves this place, he will forget, yes. But E-Ming won't.

And spiritual tools, as Hua Cheng's Guoshi taught him...

...They're what you make of them.

By the time he's finished, the spiritual weapon that sits in his hand is a far cry from it's former self.

Longer—wickedly sharp, with a reformed hilt. Absolutely radiating bloodthirst and menace.

And, etched into it's blade...

Are butterflies.

After two years, the kiln of Mount Tonglu reopens.

A small group of survivors sit in the shadow of the mountain, having developed awareness of their situation, but unsure of where to go.

So, they waited.

For two years, they waited.

When the doors screech open, they jump.

"...Bao?" Shuo mumbles, holding the little toddler in his arms closer, watching the mountain gates with wariness. "...What's that?"

The eldest ghost frowns—barely more than a small child himself, but always trying to be brave. "I don't know, but everyone watch out—"

Clink!

They all stop, staring with wonder at the sound of what sounds like a small bell, tinkling softly in the night.

Yanlin clutches her stuffed rabbit, whipping her head all around, mumbling prayers under her breath. To the only god that's ever answered her, to—

There's light.

Soft, ethereal light, floating in front of her face—even as the sun, the first sunrise they've had in years, is slowly setting back over the horizon.

A butterfly, drifting through the twilight.

The little ghost watches with wonder, trying to reach out and catch it, but...

It slips away.

All of the children turn back towards the mountain then, just in time to see a figure slowly descending the slope.

Dressed in crimson robes, with black trousers and fine, leather boots—silver chains and bells attached to them, tinkling softly with each step.

Impossibly tall and broad, with silver vambraces over his forearms, and matching finery around his neck—all etched with the same silver butterflies as the one the little girl saw, just now.

A black patch covering one eye, and a scimitar at his waist—curved, and wickedly sharp.

It's a sight that will strike terror into the hearts of men for centuries to come. But in this moment, it makes the little ghost smile, throwing her hands up with excitement.

"HUA CHENGZHU!" She cries, jumping. "It's Hua Chengzhu!"

"Gege!" Shuo gasps, leaping to his feet.

The children rush to the new Ghost King's side when he reaches the foot of the mountain, jumping with excitement around him, asking a thousand questions,

"Where did you go for so long?!"

"We tried to leave, but we don't know the way!"

"What are you gonna—?"

Shuo falls silent when a hand lands on top of his head, gently ruffling his hair—and that voice is there again, the same one as he remembers, but...

Deeper than before. Ringing with an authority that the young man has never heard before.

"Don't be afraid."

He looks at the group of children around him, a soft smile on his face. A newfound appreciation, now, for how precious little ones can be.

"I know the way."

Yanlin watches, her head tilting to the side with curiosity as the Ghost King reaches behind his back, offering...

A lantern. A small, red lantern, glowing softly against the night.

She takes it between her hands, looking up at Hua Cheng with wide, curious eyes. "... Okay," she whispers, falling into step behind him.

They all do, a line of red lanterns, slowly drifting through the night.

CLACK!

"...Oh for the love of the gods, I'm not letting you roll again." There's a groan, and the sound of pleading—

"C'mon! I'm just having a bad go of it today, let me give 'em an extra shake, it won't be so bad!"

"How many extra shakes have I given you at this point?!"

Fai frowns, puffing his cheeks out. "I would do it if it was you, Xiang! Cut me a break!"

His friend throws his hands up, nearly tipping backwards from his seat at the bench. "You think I haven't?! Have you LOOKED AROUND BUDDY?" He waves his arms at the chamber around them.

"I have given you so many breaks, that the ghost fire population has taken a SIGNIFICANT HIT around here! You know what happens if we run out?!"

They both gulp.

"...We could always try doing what the kid did," Fai mumbles, scratching his chin.

"Betting our entire souls? HA!"

Xiang shakes his head, the loose vertebrae in his neck rattling as he does so. "You first!"

"..." Fai looks down at the dice, taking a deep breath, "Here goes—!"

He gets tackled to the ground before he can actually throw, his friend snatching the dice from him.

"What are YOU THINKING, YOU MORON?!" Xiang wails, practically throttling him. "YOU HAVE HORRIBLE LUCK!"

Fai nods miserably, even as his head is flailing around under Xiang's attack.

"YOU'RE JUST GONNA LEAVE ME HERE ALONE!? YOU KNOW I CAN'T STAND BEING LEFT WITH MY THOUGHTS!" Xiang cries.

"You've always been a sensitive soul, I know—"

"I'm not SENSITIVE!" Xiang sobs, sitting back and wiping his nose, dust falling from his eyes and nose instead of tears and snot. "I-I'm just a social guy, that's all!"

"I know, Xiang!"

"A talker! Life of the party!"

"I know—!"

SCREEEECH!

They both stop, Fai patting Xiang's arms in apology, Xiang strangling him, when they hear the sound of a door.

The same sound they heard a little over ten years ago, on the dot.

"...Is fighting not allowed?" Fai whispers nervously.

"They never said anything about that. Are we gonna get in trouble?!"

It's not like there's a rule book to eternal purgatory. That wouldn't be fair!

After a pause, Xiang lets him go, leaping back with his hands thrown up. "He STARTED IT!"

"XIANG?!"

"I'm sorry, but YOU DID!"

They're both scrambling and kowtowing, ready to apologize to the higher powers that be, to beg for their immortal souls, all of that—but then, the figure that steps through the door is...

A little girl, her hair pulled up into buns on either side of her head.

A stuffed rabbit in one hand, and a small red lantern in the other.

Yanlin tilts her head to the side, slowly examining the two men. "...I thought dumb people didn't go to heaven," she mutters, sniffing with distaste.

Xiang GAWKS, scrambling to his feet, "WHO ARE YOU CALLIN—?!"

He's in the middle of shaking his fist when he sees more red lanterns filtering in through the doorway, his eyes widening with shock.

Almost seventy children, each holding their own piece of light. And now, bringing up the career, is a familiar face.

"...Hua Cheng?!"

Xiang stops, his jaw dropping. "What are you doing back here?!"

"What happened to your eye?!" Fai questions, his own widening with concern. "Did you—?" He stops, eyeing the small toddler that the ghost is carrying on his hip. "... Make poor life choices?"

Shuo blinks, confused.

"...Hua Chengzhu, what's he talking about?"

The young man pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Don't ask." He mutters, walking past both of them—straight towards the red door.

"But really, why did you come back?" Xiang questions, following after him "Did you die again?!"

"He didn't die," Yanlin glares, crossing her arm, "He's a Ghost King now!"

Xiang glares right back at her. He doesn't like that one, he—

Suddenly, he and Fai both look at each other, their eyes bulging out of their heads. "...A GHOST KING?!" They shriek in unison.

"If that's the case—what the hell are you heading for that door for?!" Xiang mutters, following after him, "Why would you want to reincarnate now?!"

"Not me," Hua Cheng answers coldly. "Now stop howling, before I decide to rip out your tongue."

Xiang snaps his jaw shut quickly.

Hua Cheng kneels before the door to the other side, setting the little boy in his arms down at his feet. Those eyes look up at the Ghost King, silently trusting, no longer in pain—after suffering for so, so long.

"...I'm sorry," the youth mutters. "That I couldn't help your mom."

The child doesn't seem to blame him for that. If anything, it smiles up at him gratefully, patting Hua Cheng's cheek softly with his palm.

"..." The ghost king leans into it for just a moment, before taking the little boy's hand, lifting it with his own—and guiding it to knock.

Slowly, the crimson doors leading into the next life lead open—revealing nothing beyond but immense golden light, pouring over them.

Lang Ying's son hesitates for a moment, cooing uncertainly, but Hua Cheng gives him a gentle push in the small of his back.

"Don't be afraid."

Finally, the boy steps forward—disappearing into the light. A few of the other children squirm behind him, staring at the gateway to the beyond with the same uncertainty.

"Is it...really safe?"

"It is," Hua Cheng reassures them softly.

"And we get to start over again?"

"Yes."

Most of them go—however slowly, many of them needing several reassurances, or for the Ghost King to hold their hand for a moment before they step through.

But in the end, nearly all of them pass through, moving on to the other side, disappearing in showers of golden sparks.

Hua Cheng watches, his face illuminated with a soft golden glow, the sort that almost makes his skin look alive again, and...

He can't help but smile. Because even if he doesn't know where his beloved is, even if Xie Lian doesn't know that he still exists—if he knew...

If Hua Cheng's god knew what he had done here today, he thinks that Xie Lian would be proud of him.

And that thought—it's enough to carry him through however long it takes to find him.

Finally—he sees that there are three children remaining.

Two brothers,and a girl with a stuffed rabbit in her hands.

"...What's the hold up?" He questions, raising an eyebrow.

"...Thank you for everything you've done," Bao mutters, bowing his head. "But I...if we go..."

He takes a deep breath. "I won't be Shuo's big brother anymore." He squeezes the younger boy's hand. "I don't want that."

Shuo beams up at Hua Cheng, showing that he's missing one of his front teeth. "You helped me find my big brother again! I'm not gonna let him go now."

When he looks at Yanlin, she just shrugs, holding her rabbit a little tighter. "I'm not ready to go yet. I don't have a special reason." She mumbles, pressing her face against its head. "But...if I'm ever ready..." She glances up at Hua Cheng, "Can you bring me back here again?"

Slowly...the ghost king smiles, "I can."

She takes his hand, walking by his side as the small group of ghosts walk back towards the door. "...Hua Chengzhu?"

He looks down at her, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Why haven't you gone through that door yet?"

His gaze softens.

His eye seems to see everything, and at the same time—it's always so far away. Thinking about someone that it cannot see.

"Because I still have someone precious in this world," he murmurs.

Yanlin smiles, holding his hand tighter, skipping.

"That's a pretty good reason!"

The door swings open again—and this time, Hua Cheng glances back over his shoulder—his eye slightly annoyed, but more patient than it used to be.

"Are you two coming?"

The two gamblers stop and look at one another, for once—completely unable to believe their good fortune.

"...Yes!" Xiang snatches Fai up, scrambling after their former gambling partner, bones rattling as they run. "How...are you able to get that door open whenever you want?" The ghost frowns, following the ghost king through it. "Your luck must be off the charts..."

Hua Cheng smiles.

"...Luck is a choice, sometimes."

Maybe not for everyone—but it is for him.

The small group of ghosts takes the stairway back up from the realm of the dead, the way lit by red lanterns, each step marked with the soft tinkling of silver bells.

A new Ghost King rises—and the world awaits, opening its doors for him once more.

Hua Cheng stares up at the clear blue sky, the first time he's seen it in over ten years, his hand reaching for the small coral pearl, braided into his hair—twisting it, remembering a promise.

Not spoken out loud, but echoing in his every thought, word, and action. Wait for me.

Slowly, he raises the bead to his lips, walking down a new path, a small group of followers in tow.

I'm coming—just wait for me.

Now, a new era begins—

That of Crimson Rain Sought Flower.