Legend Of Moon and Sun

"Mu Xieyun, I didn't expect you to become my rival," said Xing Ruoyan, her sword firmly planted in the ground.

"Rouya—no, no, Xing Ruoyan, because there's can only be one Demon king" replied Mu Xieyun, a sly smirk playing on his lips. His palm glowed with blue magic fire.

"Is that what you desire most?" inquired Xing Ruoyan.

"Of course," declared Mu Xieyun, his voice dripping with ambition. "All this time, my heart yearned for the throne of the demon realm. I cunningly exploited chaos in the heavenly realm, orchestrating the deaths of countless souls—all part of my grand design. Now, this realm stands unguarded, and the heavenly realm has fallen. The moment has arrived for me to ascend as the supreme king across these three realms. And for that, I owe my gratitude to you, Xing Ruoyan." With arms outstretched, he reveled in his dark triumph.

"I regret, I regret thinking you were my soulmate," whispered Xing Ruoyan, her hand trembling as blood dripped from her palm. The very strength she had poured into her sword seemed to echo in those words.

Mu Xieyun's smirk widened, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. "Hahaha, that's so foolish of you to fall in love with me."

"I wish I didn't," murmured Xing Ruoyan, her gaze lingering on the path behind him. Tears traced a silent path from the corners of her eyes down to her cheeks.

Mu Xieyun's laughter cut through the tension, a chilling sound that echoed with cruel amusement. "Ah, Xing Ruoyan," he intoned, his voice dripping with mockery. "Such weakness is beneath a ruler. Love, my dear, is a sentiment reserved for the feeble-minded. But fear not, for your regret will soon be overshadowed by the eternal darkness I shall unleash upon these realms. Farewell, dear Xing Ruoyan—your demise shall be but a footnote in the annals of my reign."

Determined, Xing Ruoyan met his gaze. "I won't let you do that."

The silver moon hangs low, casting its ethereal glow upon the crimson battlefield. The air hums with anticipation, and the stars hold their breath. The demon realm trembles, torn between loyalty and desire.

Mu Xieyun, clad in midnight robes, stands tall. His eyes, icy blue, mirror the void itself. His palm still smolders with blue magic fire, a testament to his power. He is the architect of chaos, the one who orchestrated death and upheaval to pave his path to supremacy.

Xing Ruoyan, his rival, gazes at him. Her sword, Inferno's Whisper, quivers in her hand. Its blade, forged in starfire, yearns for justice. But Xing's heart is a tangled web—love for Mu Xieyun battles against duty to the realm.

They circle each other, spiraling like cosmic winds. Mu Xieyun's laughter echoes—a cruel symphony. "Xing Rouyan, my dear rival," he purrs, "your love has made you weak."

Xing Ruoyan's voice is a whisper of moonlight: "I'd rather be weak with love than strong with cruelty."

And then they clash.

Mu Xieyun's blue flames meet Xing Ruoyan's starlight blade. The ground trembles, and cracks form beneath their feet. Each strike is a thunderclap, each parry a shattering comet.

Mu Xieyun spins, weaving illusions. His magic fire becomes phantom serpents, coiling around Xing Ruoyan's ankles. But Xing Ruoyan dances, swift as stardust, and slashes through the illusions.

Xing Ruoyan counters with moonstep technique. Her sword leaves trails of constellations, slicing through Mu Xieyun's defenses. But Mu Xieyun laughs, defying gravity, and hurls bolts of blue lightning.

They collide, magic and steel, and the very fabric of reality quivers. Xing Ruoyan's love fuels her strength, but Mu Xieyun's ambition is a black hole, devouring all.

Mu Xieyun's blade grazes Xing Ruoyan's cheek. Blood blooms like a fallen star. "Your love blinds you," Mu Xieyun sneers. "I'll be the supreme king, and you—"

Xing Ruoyan's eyes blaze. "No more." She channels her love, her pain, into Inferno's Whisper. The sword ignites, its blade a nova. He lunges, and Mu Xieyun's smirk falters.

Their clash is cataclysmic. The ground splinters, and the moon weeps. Xing Ruoyan whispers, "For us," and drives the blade into Mu Xieyun's heart.

Mu Xieyun crumples, blood coming out of his mouth and chest. blue fire extinguished, he collapsed on the ground. Xing Ruoyan catches him, their foreheads touching. "I loved you," Xing Ruoyan murmurs.

Mu Xieyun's eyes widen, and for a moment, he is just a men, not a king. "And I," he gasps, "feared love."

Rouyan, I won't die, am I?" Xing Ruoyan's voice quivers, his breath ragged. The taste of iron lingers on his tongue, and the pain radiates from his chest.

"HAHAHA." Mu Xieyun's laughter is a cruel echo, a mockery of fate. The crimson river flows from his mouth, staining his once-proud robes.

Xing Ruoyan steadies herself, her grip on the hilt of Inferno's Whisper unyielding. "If you weren't the reason for so many innocent lives lost," she begins, "I wouldn't have stabbed you in the heart."

"Furthermore," her voice trembles, "it looks like I stabbed you, but do you see it? My heart is beating—wild, desperate—like it will burst out of my chest. The pain is a tempest, a storm that roars within me. I cannot scream; I cannot stop you from rampaging. Those innocent lives… they haunt me. And the person I love…" Her voice breaks, and tears trace their path down her cheeks.

"It hurts like hell, Mu Xieyun. I loved you, but why didn't you listen to me?"

Mu Xieyun's laughter spirals into madness. "HAHAHA, Hahahaha!!" His eyes, once icy, now blaze with recklessness. He clings to life, even as it slips through his fingers.

"Look at me, Mu Xieyun," Xing Ruoyan pleads. Her fingers brush against the ruined flesh of Mu's cheeks. "Look at the chaos you've wrought—the realm torn asunder, innocence devoured. And now, here we stand, love and betrayal entwined. Look at me, for I am the one who will bear the weight of your legacy."

"I…I'm not feeling guilty," Mu Xieyun's voice wavers, a fragile thread in the tempest. His laughter is a twisted melody, echoing across the blood-soaked battlefield. "Do you know why?" he continues, eyes ablaze with madness. "Because there's nothing in this world that's important to me."

Xing Ruoyan listens, her heart a tangled knot. The sword, Inferno's Whisper, still clings to his hand, its blade stained with both blood and regret.

"And what was important to me," he whispers, "they mocked and killed him."

"So, I'm not feeling guilty killing them." The words spill from Mu's lips like venom, and his laughter crescendos: "HAHAHAHA. HAHAHA."

"It's just," Mu's voice softens, as if revealing a secret, "I had to die in your hands." His gaze meets Xing's, and for a moment, they are not enemies, but two souls bound by fate. "Xing Ruoyan," he murmurs, "it's a pleasure to have you in my life and die in your hands. I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad. I'm really, really, really glad."

And then, as if surrendering to the cosmic currents, Mu's eyes flutter shut. He collapses, frail and broken, into Xing Ruoyan's lap.

"Mu Xieyunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn." Xing's scream pierces the heavens. Her tears flow like a torrent, mingling with the mud and blood. He gazes at the sky, as if seeking answers from the stars themselves. "Tell me," she pleads, "you once loved meeeeeeeeeeee." Her trembling hands cradle Mu's head.