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Chapter 124: TO BE FAKE
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 03:01:29 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
124
TO BE FAKE
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Meiyao. She was there, somehow, standing on the other end of the pocket. Her hair was even longer than he remembered, waving softly in the gentle breeze. Her skin was rosy and warm; her eyes, impossibly green.
Jieyuan stared, wide-eyed, frozen at the edge of the clearing. All his instincts, honed over and over across the last few months, failed him. He forgot all his aches, all his wounds. There was nothing in his head besides that one word, that one name.
Meiyao.
She just stood there, unmoving as she stared right back at him from the opposite edge of the clearing, and he almost lost himself in her perfect face, in her bright green eyes. But then he noticed just what she was wearing.
An indistinct green thing was wrapped around her body. It was like color given shape—not that different from physicalized chroma, but not quite it either. There were some darker spots on it, like half-done patterns. She also had grayish blurs on her arms and on the parts of her legs and feet that the green mass didn’t cover.
What in the Heavens?
Vaguely, very vaguely, whatever it was she was wearing might have passed for robes—from a distance. From a lot of distance, granted. The outline of the green mass over her was about right for robes, but that was the best that could be said about it.
A soft breeze stirred the air—and though her hair fluttered softly, her not-robes remained entirely unmoving.
And there was more. Something else felt wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint just what—
“Jieyuan,” Maeva said, suddenly, whispering in his ear. “Soulsense. Now.”
Jieyuan focused on his soulsense, and he immediately recognized the wrongness he’d felt. To his soulsense, where Meiyao was standing was a sixth-shade red form.
The shade of it wasn’t the issue. Meiyao had been at fourth-sign Redsoul when they separated, but it’d been more than two months since they’d split up. He and Daojue were at sixth-sign Redsoul now, and it was no surprise that Meiyao had likewise advanced two ranks.
No, the problem was that Meiyao’s spiritual outline wasn’t the vague radiance of aura, with a solid sphere of red that was her soul in the middle. Rather, it was all a solid, sixth-shade red. It wasn’t a human’s soul with aura he was seeing, but rather a chromal beast’s spirit-shadow.
Jieyuan tensed immediately. Meiyao—if that was even her—was still staring fixedly at him, expressionless. Her total lack of reaction was even more indication that something was wrong. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Meiyao so still, so blank. That was Daojue’s shtick.
Jieyuan shot a quick glance to his side. Daojue was also tensed, visibly so, Gleaming End at the ready. But he hadn’t moved yet. Jieyuan was pretty sure Daojue had known something was off from the get-go.
Jieyuan focused back on Meiyao. Or maybe it was not-Meiyao.
Maeva, tell me. Is this an illusion, or—
“Not as far as I can tell,” she answered immediately.
Jieyuan nodded. If it were anyone else, given everything he’d seen so far—the spirit-shadow, the utterly wrong robes and armor she wore—he’d have assumed it was some shape-shifting beast and dealt with it.
He and Daojue had yet to come across a beast with powers like that, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they existed. If there was one thing that the Dome didn’t lack, it was new horrors to throw their way.
But this was Meiyao. Meiyao, who had all sorts of unusual powers, as well as a mysterious connection to the Dome. There was a chance that this was her. And since she hadn’t made a move yet, he didn’t need to act yet and risk making a mistake.
Slowly, Meiyao tilted her head to the side, still staring at him. Jieyuan tensed, but when she made no other movements, he searched her spirit-shadow, finding its song.
A proud, graceful melody filling an ancient forest. He’d long since memorized Meiyao’s spirit-song, and this was a near-perfect match for it. It gave off the same lofty, majestic feel.
It wasn’t a perfect match—something about it was a little odd, a little offbeat—but it was still close enough to throw more doubt into the situation.
“Meiyao?” he said, tentatively, not quite sure how to proceed.
It didn’t help that he was running on fumes. He and Daojue had just fought one of their hardest fights yet, and it’d been way too long since the last time he’d gotten a proper rest.
“Jie… Yuan…” Meiyao said, slowly.
Her voice was just as he’d remembered—rich, velvety, melodic. But the way she spoke his name wasn’t quite right, like it was unfamiliar to her.
Meiyao’s brows suddenly furrowed. She stood up straighter, her stare growing more intense. A flush crept into her face.
“Jieyuan,” she repeated, more firmly. Her pronunciation still wasn’t quite right, but it was better than before. “Mate?”
“Mate?” Jieyuan repeated, blinking. Did she— Did she mean— “What are you—”
Daojue took a step forward then, and Meiyao’s head snapped toward him. Her frown turned into a scowl, her lips pulling back, baring her teeth. She leaned forward, assuming a more aggressive posture. “Daojue. Threat.”
Daojue stopped moving, staring right back at her. He was as expressionless as ever, not frowning or anything, but the way he held Gleaming End pointed toward her was threatening enough.
Jieyuan looked between them.
Meiyao had always had a wild flair to her forms, and back in the Gleaming Stone Palace he’d faced her in unarmed combat more than once. The way she held herself right now—half-hunched, knees bent, arms tensed by her side—was in line with her usual forms.
But though Meiyao was no slouch at hand-to-hand combat, she was definitely a saber user first and foremost. And now that he was looking at her again, he realized he couldn’t see any weapons on her. Not even a sheath. All she had on were her indistinct, blurry not-robes and not-armor.
Jieyuan stepped forward. Meiyao turned back to him, and he caught Daojue glancing at him.
“All right,” he said. “I have no idea what’s going on, but if you are Meiyao”—and with the Heavens as his witness, there was absolutely nothing he wished for more than for that to be true right now, even with all the weirdness—“then we’ll need proof. Give me something. Anything.”
Meiyao’s scowl loosened. Some color bled into her cheeks. Her gaze turned intent, meaningful, eyes half-lidded. Her lips curled up again. But unlike earlier, she didn’t snarl. Rather, she smiled. Softly, sensually.
“Mate.” Meiyao practically purred the word. “Rut?”
If Jieyuan had been unsure before, now he was positively floored. For a moment he thought he’d heard it wrong, that Meiyao had meant rot—a word she used often enough—but the look on her face didn’t leave any room for doubt. Nor did her tone.
Rut was possibly the least appealing word that could be used to describe that particular act, but somehow Meiyao made it work. Even this bizarre caveman speech thing she had going on wasn’t enough to dampen the impact of what she was suggesting.
No, not suggesting. What she was inviting.
“I…” he started, caught himself. Swallowed. He felt that familiar heat inside him, that fire, but did his best to stifle it.
He needed to get a handle on the situation, understand just what was going on. And he needed it yesterday. “I don’t—”
Meiyao whipped her head back, glancing at the denser mists behind her. She growled something indistinct. When she turned back to him he saw she was scowling again, even more than before.
“Run,” she said, urging, as she moved closer.
Before Jieyuan could do anything, Daojue took another step forward. Meiyao focused on Daojue, growling at him.
Then she let out a low, sharp whistle.
“Meiyao—” Jieyuan began, but then a creature walked out of the mist behind her.
A big feline beast with white fur striped with green. A tiger, Jieyuan quickly realized. A chromal tiger.
He and Daojue had faced a chromal tiger before, but of a different race. It’d been one of their toughest fights. Tigers had it all—speed and power and cunning. They might very well be the deadliest mundane animal, and their chromal counterparts were equally dangerous.
This time Jieyuan was on the ball, immediately tapping into his soulsense. He saw a tenth-shade red outline where the tiger was.
Meiyao whistled again—and the beast lunged forward, bounding toward Daojue. Daojue charged at it, stabbing out with Gleaming End. Jieyuan moved to help—but then realized Meiyao was rushing toward him.
He didn’t hesitate, jumping back, putting up the Shifting Feathers as he focused on her. Daojue could handle it on his own—the Heavens would fall before a Redsoul beast got the better of him.
Meiyao came to an abrupt halt, giving him a confused look. “Jieyuan?”
He was still holding onto hope that this was Meiyao—that this was some new bloodskill of hers at play, or the result of some accident. But it was just as likely, if not even more so, that this was just some beast that had taken her form.
If it was the latter, though, then the situation still wasn’t straightforward. Because where would the beast have gotten Meiyao’s form from? Had it somehow scanned his mind, pulled it from his memories—or had it met Meiyao at some point?
Whatever it was, he needed to know more.
“Get any closer, and we’ll have problems,” he warned her. He thrust his chin at where Daojue was busy with the tiger. “And call off Green Stripes over there.”
Meiyao—or maybe Not-Meiyao—gave him a hard stare. Just as she was about to speak, she glanced back again, then rounded back on him with an even harder look.
“Jieyuan,” she growled his name. “Subdue.”
And then she was glowing. Her entire body lit up with a green aura, the same color as the viridian mist around them, but many times brighter.
Jieyuan recognized it. Divine Nature Unison. The first bloodskill he’d ever seen Meiyao use, even when he didn’t know what it was. The one that made her stronger in areas thick with nature—with beasts and plants.
But he’d never seen it shine this brightly.
Jieyuan didn’t get a chance to consider the implications—what it might mean for this Meiyao to use that bloodskill—when she blurred into a glowing green streak. The next thing he knew, she was in front of him, reaching out. He reacted on instinct, bringing a Shifting Feather forward to block—
And as the blade of the weapon met her skin, Jieyuan felt a shock run up his arms as it was stopped short, like he’d struck the hardest wall.
Eyes wide, Jieyuan shot backward again. Meiyao didn’t give chase, and he tracked her eyes to his weapons through the green glow surrounding her.
The impact hadn’t felt like striking flesh. Divine Nature Unison boosted all aspects of Meiyao’s body, toughness and durability included, but it shouldn’t have been to this extent. Even more so considering she was only at sixth-sign Redsoul, while the Shifting Feathers were at tenth-sign.
Rather, it felt more like he’d tried to hit an Orangesoul.
Jieyuan immediately sheathed the Shifting Feathers. Meiyao, who’d been about to move again, paused.
Maeva, double prong.
He didn’t move his hand up after sheathing his weapons, instead bringing them closer to the purses attached to his belt. Just at the edge of his vision, he saw Maeva appearing behind him, wearing white and yellow robes instead of her usual outfit.
Then he felt Maeva draw some chroma out of his soul, pooling it around her illusory hands like gauntlets, before physicalizing it. She then moved fully behind him and used her physical chroma gauntlets to draw out a pair of scale blades from the holsters he kept on his back.
Being illusory—not even actually existing—Maeva couldn’t handle Orangesoul weapons directly, as he couldn’t bond them and so couldn’t use his soulforce on them. But her gauntlets were real enough, and under her perfect control of his soulforce, they were as good as hands.
“Give… up?” Meiyao asked him. He couldn’t see her face clearly with how much she was glowing, but her eyes seemed to be narrowed.
In reply, as fast as he could move, Jieyuan palmed a throwing blade with his right hand and hurled it at Meiyao, aiming for her waist. Nothing too deadly, just to check—
Again, Meiyao moved so fast she blurred, dodging out of the way—before lunging right at him.
Jieyuan jumped back, taking out two more blades as he did, even as Maeva surged forward, charging out from behind him, and swept her Orangesoul blades at Meiyao. Jieyuan threw the blades right as Maeva and Meiyao met.
Blisteringly fast, Meiyao dodged Maeva’s attack, and then both blades—but Maeva was aggressive, pressing forward instead of retreating, and managed to get a hit in, cutting Meiyao’s arm.
Through his soulsense, Jieyuan felt the feedback of the attack—and the resistance. It did cut Meiyao’s skin, but it was little more than a nick.
And that was all Jieyuan needed to know. Against a sixth-sign, the Orangesoul blades should’ve fared even worse than the Shifting Feathers. Unbonded higher-realm weapons had their effectiveness adjusted to the target’s soulsign. The blade should’ve been only at the level of a sixth-sign Redsoul weapon, though an indestructible one.
That it managed to harm Meiyao when the tenth-sign Shifting Feathers couldn’t… It meant Meiyao’s true realm was Orangesoul.
Or maybe… Divine Beast Resonance? He recalled when they’d found the twin-headed snake. When Meiyao had resonated with it, she’d become like an Orangesoul herself—body-wise, at any rate. But the only beast in the clearing was the chromal tiger Daojue was fighting, and it wasn’t Orangesoul.
Meiyao lunged at him again before he could think more about that. Jieyuan put up his saber as fast as he could, but before Meiyao reached him, Maeva intercepted her, swinging her Orangesoul blades. Meiyao broke off her attack, hissing as she jumped to the side to dodge.
But Meiyao didn’t stay put, coming at him again, arms outstretched and hands grasping like she wanted to grab him. No thoughts, no strategy—just charging straight on. Jieyuan was ready for it. Drawing his Orangesoul saber, he swung it at her.
And where the Meiyao he knew would’ve simply swerved around it without stopping, this Meiyao immediately retreated, growling.
Jieyuan narrowed his eyes. Busy as he was trying to stay alive—Meiyao, if that was even her, was faster and stronger than she had any right to be—he’d still been paying attention to the way Meiyao was moving. And her retreat just now proved his suspicions.
This Meiyao wasn’t remotely as skilled as the one he remembered. Meiyao had always had a wild touch to the way she fought, but the one he was facing was outright bestial. If she weren’t so stupidly fast and strong, this would’ve been no fight at all.
Maeva came in at Meiyao from the side before she could recover and strike again—and Jieyuan watched as Meiyao dodged Maeva’s attacks, growling as she twisted her body this way and that. Her movements were rough, wild—but they didn’t stay that way.
The way Meiyao moved was becoming smoother, more fluid. It was a subtle thing, and if he hadn’t been paying attention to it, he wouldn’t have noticed. Meiyao was improving, acting more and more like the Meiyao he remembered.
Heavens take it. Jieyuan clutched the throwing blade in his left hand. He couldn’t make up his mind. Was this Meiyao, or wasn’t it?
Meiyao’s Linzushen Bloodright had made their time in the Dome much easier, but right now it was really muddying the waters.
Huaxin? Can you tell?
UNCERTAINTY.
Jieyuan gritted his teeth. As long as he didn’t know for sure, he couldn’t go for the kill outright. The only upside to this whole situation was that, as far as he could tell, Meiyao wasn’t trying to kill him either. Rather, she seemed intent on subduing him—as she’d not so eloquently put it earlier.
Why that was, he didn’t know. He was also concerned about the way she’d acted earlier—how she’d glanced backward before she’d decided to take him down. Like something was coming, and she didn’t want to be here when it arrived.
Dodging under one of Maeva’s strikes, Meiyao ran through Maeva’s illusory body and charged at Jieyuan. Maeva was already rushing back to intercept, but Meiyao was faster.
Jieyuan threw the blade, and Meiyao cut off her charge as she dodged it. In the time it took her to recover, Jieyuan grasped his saber with both hands, bracing himself—and Meiyao was almost at him, Maeva just behind her.
But then a voice cut through the clearing.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
