Wanning’s brain was stuck entirely on the passage describing Mo Ran’s dick.

He stood rooted to
the spot for several moments, hair standing on end, until he suddenly remembered that he and Mo
Ran had touched before. They had embraced at the hot springs by Jincheng Lake, when Mo Ran
had slipped.

Concluding that it wasn’t his imagination, Chu Wanning started to consider why Mo Ran might
have become aroused. He knew it was normal, but he didn’t think there was anything about him
that would incite desire. The hair-raising feeling washing over him still took the longest while to
fade away, and just as he was starting to calm down, another thought occurred to him; Mo Ran’s
dick was so huge that Chu Wanning wasn’t sure who would even be able to take it.

Finally, Chu Wanning returned to his room. He let his hair down and bound it in its customary
high ponytail. He admired himself in the mirror, his sharp and narrow phoenix eyes giving the
impression of authority and fierceness, his mouth cold and aloof. His gaze faltered as he realized
that such a face was unlovable, completely incapable of arousing the kind of fervor Mo Ran had
exhibited.

oh my GOD these are the dumbest people alive and I have no sympathy for either of them
and also these rude assholes clearly have no respect for Xue Zhengyong and the tailor

Extremely conservative and obstinate in the matters of love, Chu Wanning had always thought that
simply touching debauched literature would sully his soul. He could reach no conclusions after
staring in the mirror, and eventually told himself that it didn’t matter. Mo Ran’s reaction had been
a coincidence.

The mountain gate the next morning saw Xue Zhengyong and Madam Wang bright and early,
waiting for the rest of the party to arrive. Xue Meng showed up in an elegant formal robe, hair
dressed simply with a jaded hairpin. He blushed a little at the sight of his parents, tugging on his
sleeves. “Dad, mom,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Meng, you look fantastic,” Xue Zhengyong said. “Just as beautiful as your mother.”

Beautiful eyes lowered, Madam Wang blushed as well. She waved at her son. “Come over here,
Meng, dear.” Tilting her head up, she stared at him for a long moment. “It suits you,” she said.
“You look lovely.”

“It’s thanks to you,” Xue Meng said, smiling.

“So cheeky,” she told him. “Just like your father.” She laughed a little. “Over twenty years we’ve
been married, and it seems like only yesterday.”

Danger pinged in the back of Xue Meng’s mind and he backed away half a step. It wasn’t nearly
enough distance to avoid the conversation he knew was coming, and his mother pulled him right
back. She smoothed his already smooth hair.

“Meng, dear,” she said. “We’re headed to Rufeng Sect to congratulate their heir, Nangong Si, and
you two are about the same age. Shouldn’t we discuss your marriage?”

“Mom, I’m not ready to start a family yet,” Xue Meng grumbled. “There’s no one I like.”

“Yes, dear, I know, but this is your chance to meet some lovely women. You don’t have to marry a
rich or pretty girl, just as long as she has good character and you like her.” Madam Wang smiled.
“I’ll take care of all the planning for you. We’ll even get a matchmaker.”
Blushing, Xue Meng retorted, “I haven’t even met her and you’re hiring a matchmaker?”

“I’m just saying,” Madam Wang said.

“But I’m not interested in anyone,” Xue Meng protested. “Not one of the girls in the upper
cultivation world is prettier than me. I can’t settle. I will not get married. Nope. Absolutely not.”
He shook his head repeatedly, and then a brilliant thought occurred to him. “Hey, Ran is a year
older than me. Why don’t you worry about him first? And my teacher is single, too.”

Madam Wang laughed. “Don’t you worry about Constellation Saint,” she said. “I’m not going to
force you, I’m just asking you to start thinking about it. I’m not going to tie you up and drag you to
the altar.”

After a moment of pondering, Xue Zhengyong spoke up. "I think Meng is right," he said. "I did
talk to Constellation about finding a cultivation partner recently."

"Oh, you didn't, dad," Xue Meng said. "He wasn't upset?"

"Of course he was." Xue Zhengyong smiled wryly. "He kicked me out."

"See?" Xue Meng burst out laughing. "My teacher is a transcendent being who has already cut off
desire. He doesn't need a cultivation partner."

Sighing, Xue Zhengyong didn't want to give up. He opened his mouth to continue arguing, but
Madam Wang whispered from behind her sleeve. "Dear, he's here."

Chu Wanning approached through the morning mist, loose robes trailing on the ground. He wore
moonlight white embroidered with golden threads, hair bound in a white jade hairpin decorated
with a carved plum blossom. He appeared clean and dignified, carrying his detached coldness with
disdainful indifference. Xue Zhengyong considered for a moment that his son was perhaps correct,
and that no mortal woman would be able to live up to Chu Wanning's amazingness. "Sect Leader,"
Chu Wanning said, truly a god deigning to walk among men.

"The clothes fit you well," Xue Zhengyong said.

Holding up the intricately embroidered sachet attached to his outfit, Chu Wanning frowned. "This
is different."

"Ah, it's made with Linyi styled knots," Xue Zhengyong told him.

"I don't know how to tie it," said the divinely honored cultivator, splendid and wondrous and better
than everyone else. "Please give me guidance, sect leader."

Xue Zhengyong sighed, mental image shattered, and endeavored to teach Chu Wanning how to tie
the knots. It did not go well; Chu Wanning was utterly unable to master the technique, and Xue
Meng eventually lost patience and did it for him. He had it sorted out in a matter of seconds.

"Not bad," Chu Wanning acknowledged.

From seeing his sect member as a divine being, Xue Zhengyong's opinion spun entirely around to
concluding that Chu Wanning would manage to accidentally kill himself through self-neglect
without a partner. His rumination was interrupted by Mo Ran's arrival, face downcast. He was
favoring his side.

Too embarrassed to seek medical attention for an injury sustained during a spar, Mo Ran had
decided to simply let his wound heal on its own. He felt a little better than the previous evening,
and no longer had trouble breathing. Seeing Chu Wanning standing next to Xue Zhengyong in all
his ascetically beautiful glory took his breath away all over again. Mo Ran felt his heart and other
parts stir, and shoved his inappropriate emotions back into the abyss where they belonged.

His soul might have been fully adult and on it second life, but he wore the body of a hormonal
young man with its surging impulses. He had tied his happiness to a single person, focusing his
obsession narrowly, and it had led him to a feeling of sullen torment. He loved Chu Wanning and
couldn't have him, exactly as it had been with Shi Mei, but this time he resented it. Mo Ran felt
strongly that life was hard and extremely unfair.

Affairs settled and party gathered, Xue Zhengyong led them to start their journey. Given Chu
Wanning's presence, a carriage was the obvious choice for mode of transportation. The party
traveled slowly, heading down the official roads towards Linyi and stopping at various scenic
points to admire the season. It took over a dozen days for them to arrive at Daicheng City, known
for its cosmetics.

"Come with us, Meng, dear," Madam Wang said, but her son declined to join his affectionate
parents and instead chose to accompany Chu Wanning and Mo Ran to a tea stall to wait for them to
finish their shopping.

"Pity Shi Mei isn't here," Xue Meng said, looking around the familiar city. "Or it would be just like
when we left to seek holy weapons six years ago. We could have gone to Xuying Peak, too."

"Aren't you worried that the fake Gouchen would still be there?" Mo Ran asked. "He might yank
you to the bottom of the lake again."

"Haven't you seen him in the last five years?" Chu Wanning asked.

"Not really," Mo Ran replied. "Most of the major disturbance are unresolved cases. I have some
suspicions, but no proof."

Xue Meng spun his cup in his hand and looked at Mo Ran. "I don't think they're involved," he said.
"He did all that work to find a spiritual body. If you were the wood elemental spiritual essence, he
would have been after you. He must be looking for a person, not a weapon."

"But in the past five years," Chu Wanning said pensively. "There haven't been consecutive cases of
living humans going missing."

"I didn't run into blockades or traps either," Mo Ran said, resting his chin on his hand. "But he
might not have known where I was, since I was wandering around so much."

Silence blanketed the table as each of them fell into their own thoughts, until their tea and candied
fruit arrived. Xue Meng scratched his head. "Do you think he managed to burn himself to death
playing with fire?" he asked uncertainly, and then blushed. "Don't look at me like that, evil magic
backfires, you know it does, and we haven't heard anything for years."

"There's one other possibility," Mo Ran said.

"What's that?"

"You haven't been active in the past five years either, sir," Mo Ran said to Chu Wanning.

Xue Meng hit him with a chopstick. "Are you accusing our teacher of being the false Gouchen?"
"Would you wait for me to finish?" Mo Ran griped. "I'm just saying that if the unresolved cases of
holy weapons being stolen weren't connected to the fake Gouchen, then he didn't do anything
significant. So, like our teacher, he was constrained due to circumstance." He stopped suddenly, a
thought occurring to him. "Sir."

"What is it?"

Mo Ran shook his head, stunned by his thought but unable to let it go, either. "The other person
who we know was stuck in one place for the last five years was Master Huaizui." He didn't know
how Chu Wanning really felt about Master Huaizui, despite their master-disciple relationship, and
didn't want to cross any lines. Yet he couldn't stop himself from making the connection.

"He wouldn't have done it," Chu Wanning said immediately.

Relieved, Mo Ran accepted it at face value; he wasn't about to question Chu Wanning's hesitation
to talk about his past as a disciple. "What about other skilled fighters who haven't been active in
the last five years?" he asked.

"Jiang Xi from Lonemoon," Xue Meng said. "He was the only one that didn't show up at the
Lingshan Conference. Apparently he was ill, and he rarely shows himself."

"He was in the same sect as your mom, right?" Mo Ran laughed. "You suspect him?"

"He thinks very highly of himself," Chu Wanning said mildly. "He refuses to yield status to Rufeng
Sect, and stopped attending any gatherings after Nangong Liu became sect leader in protest. It
hasn't been just the last five years."

"I can't think of anyone else," Xue Meng said.

"Whatever," Mo Ran said. "If we can't figure it out, we can't figure it out. My brain hurts."

Madam Wang and Xue Zhengyong returned at that moment, exhibiting incredible dramatic timing,
and the group of cultivators sought lodging for the night. Xue Meng recommended an inn with a
hot spring, and Mo Ran knew immediately which one he was talking about. He had no desire to
stay at the same inn where he had had such an embarrassing incident with Chu Wanning and
cleared his throat subconsciously. Before anyone could notice his embarrassment, he looked away.

Fortunately for Mo Ran's sense of dignity, Xue Zhengyong - while appreciating his son's forthright
nature - didn't trust Xue Meng's taste. He turned to Mo Ran. "Didn't you stay there, too, Ran? How
did you like it?"

"Uh," Mo Ran said, put on the spot. "It's not bad."

"Excellent," Xue Zhengyong said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's go."

Mo Ran cursed his missed opportunity, palms immediately growing sweaty. He looked down, half-
afraid that the former incident would repeat itself, and half desperately hoping that it would. He
could remember his teacher's slender, delicate body in all its glory, and did not trust himself to hold
himself back if the two of them ended up bathing together again. He was drawn out of his thoughts
by Xue Meng poking his shoulder, and he looked up to see everyone else already standing and
ready to go.

"What's wrong with you?" Xue Meng asked. "Come on."

Instead of standing, Mo Ran cast around for a reason to stall. His eyes fell on the unfinished tea
and snacks. "It's a waste not to finish what we ordered, right?" He poured himself another cup of
tea. "I know where the inn is. I'll finish the tea and join you when I'm done."

------

Daicheng City had become prosperous because of Xuying Peak and Jincheng Lake drawing
cultivators from around the world to try for a holy weapon. After Chu Wanning and his disciples
had ensured the destruction of the weapons at the hands of the false Gouchen, the town had
gradually economically collapsed. Many of the former inns had been forced to turn to other
businesses to survive. The inn with the hot springs that Mo Ran remembered was only in business
out of sheer stubbornness.

Nangong Si’s grand wedding, drawing guests to Rufeng Sect from all over the world, was a short-
lived burst of vitalization to the dying town. The many cultivators staying in Daicheng for the
festivities gave it the illusion of its former glory. The inn with the hot spring was no exception, and
Xue Zhengyong entered it with a gleam in his eye.

“Four guests?” asked the proprietor, only for Mo Ran to answer from behind the group.

“Five,” he said, having rushed through a purification ritual until he felt as though he could control
himself and reaching the inn only a few moments behind the rest of his group.

“How many rooms, honored customers?” asked the proprietor.

“Four in total,” Xue Zhengyong said. “One for my wife and I, and one each for everyone else.
Your best.”

Restless, Mo Ran fidgeted as Xue Zhengyong took care of the reservations. He was almost hoping
that there wouldn’t be enough rooms and that they would have to double up as they had in the past.
The thought of staying in a room alone with Chu Wanning was enough to make his head swim in
anticipation. Unfortunately for the predatory beast that was Mo Ran, four rooms were readily
available and the party was directed to the second floor.

Somewhat glum, Mo Ran followed the cheerful proprietor up the stairs, grumbling to himself that
there was no reason for the man to be so happy. Making more money was a pointless endeavor, he
thought, and dejectedly accepted his key from Xue Zhengyong. The room assigned to him, he
discovered, was the same room Chu Wanning had stayed in when they had visited the lake. “Do
you remember, sir?” he said. “You were in this room.”

Chu Wanning thought there was no way he could possibly forget. The events of the past had been
bubbling to the surface of his mind with each step. He could almost see the young Mo Ran pushing
the door open and cracking a smile, and glanced at his student. Mo Ran’s face had fallen, and Chu
Wanning realized he hadn’t answered the question.

“I might be mistaken, sir,” Mo Ran mumbled.

“No, you’re right,” Chu Wanning said. Mo Ran’s head shot up, and Chu Wanning gave him a half
smile. “That’s the one.”

A spark ignited in Mo Ran’s eyes, and he gave a sweet smile. He pointed at Chu Wanning’s
assigned room. “I stayed in that one,” he added, thrilled that he had been acknowledged. Chu
Wanning was embarrassed to be on the receiving end of such enthusiasm, and let his face chill.

“I don’t recall that,” he said, entering the room and leaving Mo Ran outside.
That night, Mo Ran didn’t dare go to the hot springs to bathe. He had no idea what he had done to
upset his teacher, but he wasn’t about to face him naked. He felt had arrived at the borders of
desire, and even the slightest upset would overwhelm his defenses; clearly, Mo Ran could not
remove himself from the situation like a reasonable man until his ardor had cooled – he was forced
for no good reason to lurk around his teacher stoking his desire until he had the excuse of too much
temptation. Furthermore, he had no idea how to keep Chu Wanning happy, and it never occurred to
him to simply ask.

Feeling very depressed at the situation and refusing to acknowledge that he had no one to blame but
himself, Mo Ran flipped over and blinked. He remembered the floor plan of the inn, that the two
beds were on opposite sides of the same wall, and had even less chance of peaceful sleep. His
mouth dry, Mo Ran wondered if Chu Wanning had bathed, or if he was getting ready. He hadn’t
heard much noise from the next room, and wondered if his teacher were already lying down for
sleep.

If so, Mo Ran thought, the two of them were very close to each other. He savored the idea that the
two of them were almost lying together, letting the heat build in his blood, and shuffled closer to
the wall. Wooden planks, he thought, were only a few fingers thick and his teacher was therefore
only a few inches away. Perhaps, Mo Ran fantasized, Chu Wanning was only wearing a thin robe.
In this way did he deliberately continue his foolish behavior.

Abruptly remembering that during their previous stay he had masturbated in the very bed in which
Chu Wanning now lay sent blood rushing straight to his crotch. He felt himself tense, revisiting the
memory of tripping and falling into Chu Wanning’s arms, deliberately feeding his lust while
pretending he was powerless to do anything else. Mo Ran pressed his forehead against the wall and
wondered how he had been so stupid as to not realize that he was in love with Chu Wanning.

Mo Ran told himself he was trying to restrain himself but in actuality did nothing constructive;
instead, he expended his mental energy on dwelling on how he loved Chu Wanning and how it
was unfair that Chu Wanning would never love him, and that he couldn’t even jerk off to his
teacher’s image without feeling guilty about it. Mo Ran imagined he could smell crabapple,
goading himself into greater lust, and he sobbed Chu Wanning’s name in his self-inflicted
frustrated agony.

Unbeknownst to Mo Ran, Chu Wanning hadn’t dared visit the hot springs either. He had lain down
for sleep, as Mo Ran had imagined. Contrary to the assumptions Mo Ran never bothered to clarify,
Chu Wanning was also lusting after Mo Ran. Just like his student, he also made assumptions with
no information upon with to base them, pressing his head against the same wooden wall in the
same pathetic ocean of self-inflicted pain. Truly, the identical dumbass behavior was so tragic.
Tragically stupid.

The double session of horny self-pity was interrupted by a knock on Mo Ran’s door, startling him
into shouting an irritated answer. “Who is it?” he snapped.

Next door, Chu Wanning suddenly realized that Mo Ran had in fact been pressed up against the
wall. He clenched his fists. Opening his phoenix eyes into the darkness, Chu Wanning imagined
Mo Ran was next to his pillow.

“It’s Xue Meng,” floated a voice past the door and wall. “Mom said you have my stuff. Open the
door so I can get it and go take a bath.”

Paragon of virtue Chu Wanning knew he would never eavesdrop, as it was wrong, but he told
himself that if he happened to hear the conversation through thin walls while actively trying to
listen, it clearly wasn’t his fault. He heard Mo Ran climb off the bed and the door open. Xue Meng
spoke again.

“Why are you going to bed already? It’s so early.”

“I’m tired,” Mo Ran said hoarsely. “You woke me up. Take your stuff and go. Out.”

“Stop rushing me,” Xue Meng said. “Why are you so pissy?” His voice suddenly dripped in
suspicion. “Oh, my god, you weren’t.”

Eyes wide, Chu Wanning wondered what Xue Meng knew. He thought of how he and Mo Ran had
sparred next to the lotus pond, neglecting duty in favor of lust, and how Mo Ran was possessed of
vital youth and high spirits. As he didn’t practice asceticism, Chu Wanning thought, Mo Ran must
harbor a great deal of vital sexual energy, which he must of course release regularly. Chu Wanning
wondered how regularly, as he considered himself to be above such shameful acts.

Even asking would be embarrassing, Chu Wanning concluded, there was no way he could inquire
as to how often a normal healthy man needed to expunge his accumulated sperm. Just the idea was
perverted. Were he at Sisheng Peak, he thought for a moment, he could have simply looked up the
information in a book, but then he would have had to log his name in the library records as having
accessed those tomes. No, Chu Wanning knew, better to die in ignorance.

------

“What do you think you’re looking at?” Mo Ran said, audible through the thin wall. Chu Wanning
heard a scuffling noise, and then, “Take your clothes and get lost, it’s not like that.”

“What? What did I look at?” Xue Meng protested. He stared at his cousin for several moments,
trying to figure it out before it clicked and he blushed. “The hell were you thinking?” he snapped.
“I thought you were taking a bath in here with the door locked! Not that other thing! You’re the
one with your mind in the gutter!”

Listening through the wall, Chu Wanning’s face darkened as he also realized what the
misunderstanding had been. He heard Xue Meng sigh loudly at whatever Mo Ran had replied. In
his shock, Chu Wanning had missed it.

“Look, that wasn’t what I was asking, but is that what you were doing?”

“Weren’t you going to go take a bath?” Mo Ran snapped. “Out.”

“No, but like, you’re acting super sus.” The skepticism practically dripped out of Xue Meng’s
voice. “I remember when you first came to Sisheng Peak, you practically lived at the brothels. And
yet, you go wandering around, and I hear nothing. What’s up with that?”

Chu Wanning felt Xue Meng could be no more eager to hear the answer than he was himself,
eavesdropping shamelessly in the dark. The silence dragged on, ratcheting Chu Wanning’s anxiety
up by degrees. Finally, Mo Ran spoke, voice low and full of anger. “You really want to know?”

That Mo Ran had the gall to be angry at a perfectly reasonable question was impressive, Chu
Wanning thought. He had no right to be upset at his unsavory past being dug up and thrown in his
face. He was feeling smug about his own lack of misdeeds when Mo Ran started talking again.

“I fucked around enough and now it’s boring. Screw off.”

“You shameless pervert!” Xue Meng roared after a heartbeat of silence.

“Sure, whatever.” Mo Ran yawned audibly. “Go away and let me sleep.”

“Get your dirty hands off me!”

“How are they dirty?” Mo Ran asked innocently, and Xue Meng sputtered. Chu Wanning reflected
that Nangong Si was marrying a beauty, and many of the heirs of the cultivation world were also
married with children. Only Xue Meng had maintained his innocence and purity. Chu Wanning
was rather proud of his student, but Xue Meng appeared to harbor some insecurities.

In Mo Ran’s room, Xue Meng was gaping at his fellow disciple as a thousand thoughts ran through
his mind – he knew he had no perverted desires, and yet Mo Ran had somehow gotten the upper
hand by refusing to demonstrate any sense of shame at all. He had only looked disdainful as he
dealt a damaging blow to Xue Meng’s ego. He finally found his voice again. “You depraved piece
of trash!” he roared, and slammed the door.

Knowing that Mo Ran had baited Xue Meng on purpose, Chu Wanning had mixed feelings. The
topic of conversation had ignited the flames of lust within him again. He swallowed hard, thinking
of all the experience Mo Ran had gotten visiting brothels. The mental image of his student engaged
in constant acts of indecency was both infuriating and tempting. Chu Wanning’s musings were
interrupted by yet another knock on Mo Ran’s door.

“What?” Mo Ran snapped.

“You still have my clothes, you asshole!”

“They’re on the table. Get them yourself.”

Chu Wanning heard Xue Meng stomp inside, grab a rustling cloth bundle, and slam the door again.
This time, he heard Mo Ran lie down on the bed, and imagined he felt it shake the wall as Mo Ran
shifted position. He desperately wanted water for his dry throat, but if he could hear Mo Ran then
Mo Ran would definitely notice if he moved. He kept perfectly still.

Restlessly tossing back and forth, Mo Ran cursed Xue Meng for his perfectly timed intrusion. He
was horny and annoyed, and Xue Meng had goaded him into saying things he shouldn’t have. He
hoped his teacher hadn’t heard him wallow in his depraved past, regretting the words more and
more with every breath. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Sir,” he called in a low voice.
“Sir, are you awake?”

Panicked, Chu Wanning felt his heart skip a beat and start pounding. Afraid that Mo Ran would
hear it, he tried to muffle his body in the quilt. It was almost as if they were lying in the same bed,
with Mo Ran’s voice so close, and Chu Wanning imagined that if he were to lift the quilt it would
reveal his student’s handsome face and bare chest.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said again. “Can you hear me?”

Best to pretend not to be able to hear, Chu Wanning decided, in order to reduce how awkward the
next day would be. He waited with bated breath as Mo Ran called for him again and then sighed in
what sounded like relief. It almost sounded wistful, too, but Chu Wanning was sure that was his
imagination.

Wanting Chu Wanning to pay attention to him, Mo Ran touched the thin wall. He stroked it with
calloused fingers, pretending he was caressing his teacher, and pressed his lips to the rough planks
as though whispering against Chu Wanning’s lips. “All I want is you,” he said, but his voice was so
soft that Chu Wanning – who had heard every other noise in the room no matter how quiet – failed
to hear the one sentence that would have cleared up their ridiculous misunderstanding.

Bundled up in the quilt, Chu Wanning felt his heart and his face burn. He heard a loud creak after a
few moments, and then a muffled curse. He intuited that he was about to hear something else, but
took no steps to stop his eavesdropping. Mo Ran’s heavy breathing changed to something sinful,
punctuated with guttural noises, and Chu Wanning knew exactly what he was doing.

Rather than stop invading Mo Ran’s privacy, Chu Wanning closed his eyes, listened intently, and
used his memories of his erotic dreams to build a mental image of what his student looked like on
the other side of the wall. He reached down and went along, finishing himself off as he imagined
the two of them were lying together. He found that carnal matters weren’t quite as ugly as he had
perhaps thought for his entire life, reveling in discarding his abstinence and asceticism.

Carnal desires alone were unworthy, Chu Wanning thought afterwards, and only acceptable when
entwined with true love. The shame he had felt over this same act in Cool Jade Village was washed
away by the tender emotion in his heart. He knew he was still better than those who indulged in
pleasures of the flesh, for his motivations were pure.

wow do I feel bad for whoever has to wash their sheets

The next morning, Mo Ran got up early to visit the western market; he knew his teacher didn’t like
the local cuisine, and he felt it was his duty to provide food that Chu Wanning would enjoy eating.
He intended to borrow the kitchen to personally prepare the dishes, satisfied in knowing how good
of a disciple he was, not once considering that he was preventing the staff from doing their job and
inconveniencing the rest of the guests at the inn.

Mo Ran was so devoted to his beloved – first Shi Mei, and now Chu Wanning – that he was eager
to heroically trample over everyone else in the vicinity to put his beloved’s every unimportant
whim over the needs of others. He poked around the market, looking for groceries first, and then
got distracted by trinkets in a general store. He wandered over to take a peek, joining a hooded
individual with delicately pretty hands.

The disconnect between the person’s masculine silhouette and feminine fingers piqued Mo Ran’s
curiosity, and he tried to get a better look at their face. He could only see their cold eyes. Out of
habit, he smiled when their gazes met, and the other person quickly pulled back their hand. A ring
was briefly visible on their thumb, a silver serpent patterned with intricate scales, and he thought
he’d seen it somewhere before. The person tucked their hand back into their sleeve and left without
a word.

“What a weirdo,” Mo Ran said, but one had to expect strange people in any crowd. The wind
chimes hanging over the store’s rear entrance rang out, and the proprietor came forward. Mo Ran
pointed at one of the items on the display, smiling at her instead and forgetting about the hooded
person. “How much for this one, ma’am?”

------

The shop’s proprietor had only just been starting to open the shop and was unprepared for the
vision of masculine beauty that met her eyes, bathed in the brilliant light of the morning sun. He
looked as though he should have been walking coolly through the streets carrying a sword, mighty
thews flexing, but instead he was smiling brightly with soft eyes and carrying a bamboo basket full
of fresh fruits and vegetables. The proprietor froze, staring blankly for a moment.

“Ma’am?” Mo Ran said again.

The proprietor blinked and came to herself, giving the vision of manliness her best professional
smile. “Good morning,” she said. “Which of these would you like?”

Mo Ran chose a pair of red crystal pendants, made of dragonblood crystal and crafted by artists
from Kunlun Palace, the proprietor explained. “As I’m sure you know,” she continued, “The color
deepens as the wearer’s body temperature rises.” She smiled again. “You picked a pair, so the
other is for your dual cultivation partner? Ah, what a lucky lady she is. They are best worn while
dual cultivating.”

The original intent had been to purchase the dragonblood crystals for their warming properties,
helpful for those predisposed to chills, and give them to Chu Wanning to wear during the winter.
But the proprietor’s words called to mind entirely different mental images. “I’ll take them. Please
wrap them up,” he said. So as not to arouse suspicion, he chose gifts for Xue Meng and his parents
as well.

The crystals went into Mo Ran’s sleeve, taken out once he returned to the inn. They had already
darkened from his body temperature, and he hung one around his neck. The other went back into
the package. He straightened his collar to hide the pendant, and checked the wrapping. It was
pristine, and he couldn’t help but be surprised that he was so flustered over a little secret under his
clothes after all of the events he’d lived through.

At the mealtime, Xue Meng accepted the sword tassel with surprise. “For me?” he said. “Are you
trying to apologize for yesterday?”

With no idea that Chu Wanning had been awake to listen, Mo Ran didn’t bat an eyelid. Chu
Wanning, on the other hand, drank down cold tea in an attempt to hide his face until he could
school it into a neutral expression. “Dunno what you’re talking about,” Mo Ran was saying. “I just
thought the tassel looked nice. We don’t get to travel a lot, so I wanted to get it for you for fun.”
He paused. “I got stuff for everyone else, too, don’t get all weird about it.”

“You did?” Madam Wang said, surprised and pleased.

“Here,” Mo Ran said, handing her an agarwood cosmetic box with a smile. He gave Xue
Zhengyong a pendant for his fan. “And that.” He smiled happily, and then held out the
dragonblood crystal to Chu Wanning. “This has warming properties, sir, so it’ll help you in
winter.”

As it was inexpensive as well as useful, Chu Wanning felt it was appropriate to accept. “Thanks.”

“Are you going to wear it?” Mo Ran asked brightly.

Unaware of his student’s selfish and intimate motive, Chu Wanning nonchalantly put on the
pendant. It glittered brilliantly, and Xue Meng gave it an admiring look. “That looks great,” he
said. “Where’d you get it? I kind of want one.”

“They’re out,” Mo Ran told him. “That was the last one. I wanted one, too, but that was all they
had.”

Disappointed, Xue Meng returned to his sword tassel. “It’s supposed to be common in Linyi,” he
grumbled. “I’ll pester Nangong Si about it, I bet he has some.”

Watching Chu Wanning, Mo Ran ignored Xue Meng’s rambling. He was disappointed that his
teacher didn’t tuck the pendant inside his clothes, next to his skin, but left it clearly visible. After a
moment, he couldn’t help it. “Sir, those aren’t meant to be word on the outside,” he said. “They’re
supposed to go inside the clothes.” He leaned over to do it for him, but Chu Wanning pushed him
away.

Although his expression was cold and stern, Mo Ran could see Chu Wanning’s ears flushing. He
didn’t think he’d been inappropriate, but his teacher was an ascetic who avoided all inklings of
impropriety. Hi teacher’s brain shouldn’t have gone straight to the gutter, though, he thought, and
wondered why it had. While Mo Ran was pondering, Chu Wanning stuffed the pendant inside his
clothes gloomily.

The Evil Overlord had indeed missed out on Chu Wanning’s personal development due to the
three-finger-wide wooden wall, and had no idea that Chu Wanning was now deep in the muddy
swamp of carnal desire and liking it. He was unaware that Chu Wanning was now primed to
overcompensate by misinterpreting simple phrases and gestures. He noticed that his teacher was
reaching for the pot of cold tea, and snatched it away.

“That’s not good for you, sir,” he said, and Chu Wanning froze with his hand outstretched. “I’ll get
you hot tea instead.”

“No need,” Chu Wanning said, but Mo Ran was already gone. He returned with the hot tea Chu
Wanning hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.

“He’s not wrong, Constellation,” Xue Zhengyong said. “Cold tea is bad for your health.”

With no other choice, Chu Wanning accepted the tea; however, he was afraid that if he got any
warmer, the last traces of ice in his expression would melt. If he met Mo Ran’s gaze then, his
feelings would be exposed and he, the Holy Grace Immortal, would never be able to face anyone
again. What if they knew that he felt carnal desire? He couldn’t bear it.

A group of people came in as the party finished breakfast, the leader wearing a light blue cloak
embroidered in a scroll pattern. His face was hidden by the deep hood, a clearly deliberate attempt
to be inconspicuous, but as soon as he saw Xue Zhengyong he approached the table of his own
accord. “Greetings, Uncle Xue,” he said, and lowered his hood.

“You!” Xue Meng said, stepping back.

“If it isn’t Hanxue!” Xue Zhengyong said with a laugh.

Mei Hanxue looked up, smiling easily. His high nose, balanced against defined brows and deep-set
eyes, gave him a unique charm that set him apart from conventionally handsome men. The
porcelain glow of his skin gave him an air of cool detachment, utterly incongruent with his
behavior as an infamous philanderer. “I just got here,” he said with a polite smile, features so
naturally cold that even respectful gestures came off as chilly. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Ah, it’s so nice to see you,” Xue Zhengyong said. “Would that Xue Meng were so polite.”

Less than pleased to be compared to someone like Mei Hanxue, Xue Meng glared daggers at the
back of the philanderer’s head. He couldn’t believe someone so lecherous and undiscerning as to
proposition men, women, and everything in between could stand there as if he were prim and
proper while exchanging pleasantries with his parents like a decent person.

Not even glancing at his childhood playmate, Mei Hanxue kept his slight smile. “You jest, sir,” he
said. “Young Master Xue is the darling of the heavens and the winner of the Spiritual Mountain
Competition. He has many positive attributes.”

“Yeah, I beat him,” Xue Meng said.

“Meng,” Madam Wang said, reaching out to tug at his sleeve. Xue Meng sulkily dropped the
matter, muttering under his breath.

“Are you going to Rufeng Sect, Uncle Xue?” Mei Hanxue asked.

“It’s about time,” Xue Zhengyong said with a laugh. “It’s all right if we get there a little early.
Nangong Liu has the space to spare. We’ll head over there first, so you kids can hang out and meet
other people your own age.” His glance at Xue Meng made his match-making intentions less than
subtle. Xue Meng glared at his father, but his intent to protest was interrupted by an inquiry as to
whether or not Mei Hanxue wasn’t headed for Rufeng Sect himself.

“Oh, I have some errands to run for the sect master,” Mei Hanxue said. “I need to pick up a
considerable amount of spiritual stones, so I’ll be in Dai City for a while. It wouldn’t be impolite to
arrive the day before the wedding.”

“More like you don’t want to get the shit kicked out of you by every girl you ever screwed,” Xue
Meng muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Mo Ran to hear.

With a laugh, Mo Ran poked his cousin. “Did you say something, Mengmeng?”

“I was reciting cultivation scripture,” Xue Meng said, crossing his arms.

“The Mei-Be-Gone scripture?” Mo Ran asked innocently.

“Shut up!” Xue Meng snapped.

The bickering had gotten loud enough that Mei Hanxue finally glanced over. Their eyes met, and
Xue Meng paused. He felt as though Xue Meng were off, somehow; when they’d met at Peach
Blossom Springs, the man had been a seduction machine, hitting on anyone and everyone left,
right, and center. He seemed as though he would smile even when angry.

The person in front of Xue Meng now was ice-cold, neat and orderly without a hint of flirtation.
He gave off an air hinting that an undercurrent of anger would run through even his happiest smile.
Xue Meng suddenly remembered Mei Hanxue’s arrival at the battle of the heavenly rift, and how
he had been serious leading his troops. A flash of anger burned through him at the thought of Mei
Hanxue’s skill at bluffing; the two-faced bastard was scum in scholar’s clothing.

“Where are you going, Meng?” his mother asked.

“It’s stuffy in here,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’ll wait outside. See you when you’re done
chatting!” The most infuriating thing, Xue Meng thought, was that no one else in the room could
tell what an absolute sleazebag Mei Hanxue really was.

------

An hour of walking from Dai City took the Sisheng Peak party to Linyi and the heart of Rufeng
Sect, the largest sect in the cultivation world. It consisted of seventy-two immortal mansions, built
in a long stretch within Linyi City. Each mansion was a massive estate, bearing the nickname of
city, so that Rufeng Sect was said to have seventy-two cities as its domain.

are you fucking kidding me, that’s false advertising, oh my fucking god

Each city within Rufeng Sect had its own set of duties with a clear ranking system; its high level of
organization set it worlds apart from Sisheng Peak’s slapdash methods, and every sect was
exceptionally well versed in aesthetic presentation. Even Xue Meng was impressed by the entrance
to the sect, much as he hated the upper cultivation world on principle.

The party approached the largest metropolis of the sect, the main city. It was constructed of white-
walled buildings with black-tiled roofs, tall enough to reach the skies even before one counted the
towers at each corner of the city. The gate was painted red and lined with gold, the road leading to
it wide and paved with qi-refinement stones. Just standing on the road alone would increase a
cultivator’s spiritual power.

“Man, it’s so nice to be rich,” Xue Zhengyong said, eying the expensive pavement.

“What, you want one of these for Sisheng Peak?” Madam Wang chuckled.

“No,” Xue Zhengyong said. “I’d pave a market square in every village. Because the rocks
themselves collect spiritual power, they ward off little ghosts and monsters. They’d protect people
until our disciples could get there.” He glanced at the rocks, counting off on his fingers.
“Unfortunately, we can’t afford it.”

“We’re not rich,” Xue Meng sighed.

“We’re on the same cultivation path as Rufeng, too,” Xue Zhengyong said. “Who knows how they
earned their money. We certainly didn’t.”

Quiet during the entire trip, Chu Wanning finally spoke. “Does my lord wish to know how much
Rufeng Sect charges for one of their standard exorcisms? Performed by a regular disciple?”

“You know, I never did hear how much they charge,” Xue Zhengyong said. “How much?”

Chu Wanning silently held up four fingers.

“Four silver?” Xue Zhengyong guessed, and Chu Wanning shook his head. “Forty?” Another
headshake. Xue Zhengyong’s eyes widened. “Four hundred? That expensive?”

“Four thousand,” Chu Wanning said, and Xue Zhengyong spluttered in outrage. “Gold,” he added,
and his sect leader nearly choked.

“The upper cultivation world is full of wealthy merchants,” Chu Wanning said mildly. “It’s easy
for the sects to make a profit. When Sisheng Peak only charges eighty silver for a request, we
wouldn’t be nearly as wealthy. Not to mention,” he said warmly, “all the times my lord declined to
accept payment at all.”

Shaking his head in amazement, Xue Zhengyong followed Chu Wanning toward the gate. Proper
etiquette was expected upon arrival; for itinerant cultivators, attendants were present to guide them
to the proper gates and their assigned lodging. Smaller sects were led to greet the managing elder.
The other nine major sects, however, were welcomed directly to a heated pavilion to await
reception by Nangong Liu.

The air was thick with the fragrance of ambergris incense, and the carpet was soft enough to
swallow their feet to the ankle. Stunning camellias blossomed at every corner of the pavilion;
while the quality of the flowers was lost on most of the guests from Sisheng Peak, Madam Wang
truly appreciated their rarity and high value. Xue Meng spied a charming blossom with blossoms
dotted black and reached toward it.

“Stop,” Madam Wang said, and he paused to look at her. She sighed. “A flower like this is worth
tens of thousands of gold. Please don’t destroy it.”
Color draining from his face, Xue Meng dejectedly found a seat. He thought of the list of the
hundred richest heroes he’d found, and how furious that he hadn’t been included; he understood
now just how misplaced his anger had been. He felt as though the word poverty were engraved on
his forehead. Suddenly he blinked, wondering what had happened to the book.

The curtain, made of red coral and freshwater pearls, clicked as two elegantly dignified lady
cultivators arrived some time later. Their snow-silk robes draped gracefully over their figures as
they took up places at either side of the curtain and bent gracefully at the knees. With lowered
eyes, they intoned, “The esteemed Sect Leader has arrived.”

A plain, bookish man in his mid-forties walked in, with nothing particularly striking about his
appearance except for his exceptionally fair skin. He smiled broadly at the party from Sisheng
Peak. Mo Ran, however, nearly choked on his tea the moment he heard the man’s voice.

“Sect Leader Xue,” he said. “Sect Leader Xue, I have been gazing at the stars and moon, yearning
for the day you would finally visit our humble sect. Dashing and spirited, mighty and impressive, a
hero of the world matched by no man has graced our abode with his presence. Wonderful!”

Having expected a great deal more arrogance from the top sect in the world while facing the tenth
ranked sect, Mo Ran was stunned that Nangong Liu praised them without restraint and with every
appearance of genuine excitement. Xue Zhengyong was also clearly surprised and delighted.
“Please,” he replied with a happy smile. “Sect Leader Nangong is too gracious.”

“I am utterly sincere,” Nangong Liu said. “I admire Sect Leader Xue from the bottom of my heart –
a hero of our time, awe-inspiring and worthy of admiration. I have stagnated in my middle age,
truly, I cannot hope to compare.”

So ecstatically warm was Nangong Liu that Xue Zhengyong’s peacock tail spread to its full,
glorious breadth. “Oh, no, Sect Leader Nangong is overly flattering,” he said.

Mo Ran hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the sect leader in his previous life; Nangong Liu had
fled when Emperor Evil Overlord had slaughtered the sect. Unconcerned with such unworthy prey,
he hadn’t even bothered to find out his fate. Seeing him in person now put a bad taste in his mouth.
“Number one sect leader is number one in ass-kissing,” he muttered under his breath.

Xue Meng, close enough to hear and for once in agreement with his rival, whispered back. “His
silver tongue is blinding from under that brown nose,” he said.

Not appearing to have heard the byplay, Nangong Liu turned his attention to the next generation of
cultivators. “Young master Xue?” he said. “Darling of the heavens, if I’m not mistaken.”

Dirt-poor he might have been, but no one would accuse Xue Meng of being impolite. He cupped
his hands properly and bowed. “Sect Leader Nangong,” he said crisply and formally.

“Such a gallant, handsome youth!” Nangong Liu exclaimed. “As expected, no dull sons are born of
great fathers.” He turned back to Xue Zhengyong, not waiting for a reply. “Brother Xue, I am
indeed envious of the glory of your house. Your son is a gallant youth unmatched in the cultivation
world.”

Although Xue Meng had initially been condescending of Nangong Liu’s flattery, he wasn’t
immune to the man’s charm when it was directed at him. He cracked a smile, and when the sect
leader’s attention turned elsewhere, his whispers to Mo Ran were much more complimentary. “He
speaks the truth, though.”
Amused, Mo Ran gave him a sidelong glance. “Truth, you say? That you’re unmatched?”

“Hey, I won the competition, didn’t I?”

“That was a tournament,” Mo Ran reminded him. “With rules.” He poked Xue Meng in the side.
“Most of the itinerant and rogue cultivators didn’t participate. Did you think it would truly measure
the world’s greatest?”

Flushing, Xue Meng came back with an indignant grumble. “You’re just jealous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mo Ran said. “Jealous.” He would have kept teasing his cousin, had they both still
been teenagers, but it seemed exhausting now to set himself against Xue Meng’s competitive and
narcissistic personality. “You’re the best.”

Glancing over at Nangong Liu, Mo Ran’s smile faded completely. He had come across many types
of villains across both his lifetimes; some were so obviously depraved that most decent citizens
clamored for their execution. Others hid in plain sight, glib-tongued bootlickers who thrived off
public adulation despite being rotten to the core. Mo Ran had been the former.

He hadn’t hated the beneficent who had been arrayed against him, though; he had respected Xue
Meng, and he hadn’t hated Ye Wangxi or Mei Hanxue. He had even had some admiration for them
as his opponents. Those like Nangong Liu, however, he had hated with a passion. Those who
deceitfully manipulated those around them and abased themselves for the slightest self-serving
purpose were his least favorite type of person.

Standing in the window, Chu Wanning looked out over the organized rows of buildings. The brisk
winds fluttered the fragrant silk curtains at the windows, shrouding his figure, and it took a
moment before Nangong Liu noticed him. When he did, the friendliness plastered on his face froze
for a moment before it returned in full force. He headed toward the window. “Grandmaster Chu,”
he said.

“Sect Leader Nangong,” Chu Wanning said blandly, still looking out the window. “You and I are
already intimately acquainted with each other.” The silk blew against his face, and he slapped it
away. “No need for pleasantries.”

“It’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” Nangong Liu said in a conciliatory voice. “I wished
only to offer greetings. There is no need to keep me at such a distance.”

“I came for Nangong Si,” Chu Wanning said, still without looking at the sect leader. “Not you.”

“Si will be delighted to see you,” Nangong Liu said, still without losing an iota of his friendly
warmth. “Although you didn’t accept him as a disciple, he still speaks very positively of his first
teacher. He has often told me how much he missed you when you left.” He paused, and when Chu
Wanning did not rebuke him, he continued. “Your impassioned actions at Butterfly Town were
renowned the world over. Although you have returned to the world of the living, would I be correct
in assuming you have not yet fully recovered? We have prepared for you twenty Soul-Nourishing
Pills of the highest grade, to show gratitude on behalf of the cultivation world.”

“Nangong Liu,” Chu Wanning interrupted, finally turning to look the man in the eye. His tone had
chilled considerably, and he spun around threateningly. “On behalf of the cultivation world? What
give you the right to speak for all?”

Although the corners of his mouth twitched, the smile on Nangong Liu’s face remained firmly in
place. “There’s no need to be like that,” he said with a rueful chuckle.
As the entire cultivation world knew, Xue Zhengyong reflected, Chu Wanning and Nangong Liu
did not share goodwill. Chu Wanning had been taken in as a guest advisor at the tender age of
fifteen, provided with the utmost hospitality and worshipped like a god. It hadn’t taken long for the
relationship to sour; Chu Wanning had been hostile with Nangong Liu for no apparent reason in
the grand hall, the two of them arguing loudly.

Those who had heard the argument were none the wiser; they had been fighting over holy weapons
and Jincheng Lake, and the demand of the monster at the bottom of said lake. Morality and justice
had been mentioned, long with long-term illness, and the madam. No one could make heads or tails
of the situation, but the outcome had been more than clear. Chu Wanning had been furious,
slapping the table as he bounded to his feet.

Despite earning ten thousand gold, thousands of spiritual stones, and countless talismans every
month, Chu Wanning hadn’t taken a single red cent when he’d left. He’d flung his pouch to the
floor in front of the entire audience, yanked off the jaded crown denoting his high rank to throw it
at Nangong Liu’s feet, and stormed off. Storytellers had embellished the scene with relish,
describing his unbound hair lashing about his shoulders.

The final exchange of words had occurred at the gates, at which time Nangong Liu had attempted
to smooth things over – he’d said something about the money owed needing to be settled, as
Rufeng Sect would not be known as one who had taken advantage of others. Chu Wanning had
reportedly said that he had served the sect in repayment for the madam’s kindness of a meal, and as
the madam had passed, there was no further reason for them to continue to associate.

Furthermore, Chu Wanning had allegedly continued, he had no need for money and it would
shame him to accept pay. Xue Zhengyong had always thought the storytellers had definitely
exaggerated the events, but Chu Wanning had refused to tell him the truth of what had happened,
on the grounds that gossiping behind the backs of others was impolite. Given the volatility of the
air in the room as Nangong Liu and Chu Wanning faced each other now, Xue Zhengyong was
inclined to believe that the storytellers had spoken the unvarnished truth.

Glancing around, Madam Wang stepped forward to make peace. “Constellation Saint,” she said,
“Please calm your fury before you do yourself harm.” She turned and gave Nangong Liu a
respectful bow. “Honored sect leader Nangong, we appreciate your kind gesture. However, as
Sisheng Peak does not lack for spiritual stones or valuable medicines, we are unable to accept your
more than kind gesture.”

“Of course, madam,” Nangong Liu said, accepting the chance to disengage. “How thoughtless of
me to imply otherwise.” He turned to Chu Wanning smoothly. “Constellation Saint,” he said,
“Please forgive me the offense. I hope you will not take it to heart.”

From the side, Mo Ran watched in astonishment. He had no idea how Nangong Liu kept smiling
after the verbal smackdown Chu Wanning had delivered. He looked down at his cup, still full of
expensive green tea, and when he looked back up again, Nangong Liu was standing in front of
him.

------

The rest of the room had been standing so as to politely greet Rufeng Sect’s leader, but Mo Ran
hadn’t seen the point in paying respect to a sect he knew was a disjointed mess underneath its
glamorous surface. It hadn’t even occurred to him to stand. Staring up at Nangong Liu, with his
legs crossed and a hot cup of tea in his hand, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Xue Zhengyong, not
having been paying attention to his disciple, was particularly mortified at Mo Ran’s lack of
attention to etiquette.
“You must be the famed Grandmaster Mo,” Nangong Liu said. “Quite the topic of conversation
lately.”

Mo Ran put the lid back on his tea and looked up. “Yes,” he said.

“Such a gallant –“ Nangong Liu started.

Mo Ran cut him off with a smile, courteous tone at complete odds with his words. “Honored Sect
Leader Nangong, you’ve already used the phrase ‘gallant youth’ to describe my cousin. Surely you
don’t need to apply it to me as well.”

Instead of standing, Mo Ran lifted his teacup again. He removed the lid, blowing gently on the
rising steam, and took a leisurely sip. Handsome, tall, and poised, his body language screamed that
he was the man in charge of the room and indeed the entire sect.

Nonplussed, Nangong Liu didn’t lose his smile. “Grandmaster Mo, you are quite right. My poor
lack of education –“

“That can’t be right,” Mo Ran interrupted him again, setting his teacup down. “Honored Sect
Leader Nangong, you have been so generous with praise that there is surely no smoother talker
than you.”

“Ah, Grandmaster Mo, you are too kind.”

“Who said I was being kind?” Mo Ran smiled brightly. “I didn’t say it was a good thing.”

“Ran,” Xue Zhengyong hissed. He could understand Chu Wanning’s unfriendliness, given their
history, but Mo Ran had no excuse.

Ignoring his sect leader, Mo Ran kept his attention on Nangong Liu. He knew his uncle would be
disappointed, but he regretted nothing. “Save the pretty words for others, sir, I’m a crude and
uneducated person upon whom they would be wasted. And I don’t want to hear them.”

Too many terrible things were in the world for Mo Ran to let this one go; Chu Wanning had a
fierce temper and was always determined to do the right thing, and the world hated him for it.
Rather than honor and adulation, he was denigrated as cold and unfeeling, or even unmannered.
The cultivation world did not appropriately appreciate Chu Wanning, so Mo Ran would give them
another target upon which to vent their disdain and ire. He would stand with Chu Wanning as long
as his teacher would have him.

yeah the entire fucking world eagerly licks chu wanning’s boots but no mo ran thinks they
treat him poorly oh my fucking god

Having run into two obstacles in a row, Nangong Liu maintained his affable demeanor. Any other
sect leader would have lost his temper, but Nangong Liu continued to chat with Xue Zhengyong as
if nothing had happened. Finally, Xue Zhengyong couldn’t take it, and quietly pulled him aside to
apologize for how poorly his nephew had behaved.

Nangong Liu laughed it off, “Ah, the youth are bold,” he said. “I admire his passion.”

The party from Sisheng Peak was led to their courtyard after the meeting, with Mo Ran sneezing
the whole way there. Xue Meng glared at him. “This is karma for how rude you were,” he said.
“Or maybe you were cursed.”

“You got cursed,” Mo Ran said, sneezing again. “Ugh, so much incense. It was way too much.”
“Wipe your face,” Chu Wanning said, handing over a handkerchief.

“You’re so nice to me, sir,” Mo Ran said, accepting it with a smile and wiping his face. “Thank
you, sir.”

“Who’s nice,” Chu Wanning muttered, snatching the handkerchief back.

The courtyard prepared for the group from Sisheng Peak had four sections, one reserved for the
married couple and one for each of the others. Flowers danced gently between the winding paths
and the soothing sound of running water permeated the air. Previously in good spirits, Mo Ran
faltered when he recognized the set of rooms. It was the only place in Rufeng Sect that had left a
considerable impression upon him in his previous life.

Mo Ran couldn’t help but think that if Chu Wanning hadn’t sacrificed his life for him, that he
might have walked the same path as Emperor Evil Overlord despite his determination to do
otherwise from the second he had realized he had been reborn. He had been around this age when
he had led millions of Zhenlong chess pieces to burn this renowned sect to the ground, and he
suppressed a shiver at the thought.

Having had more practice concealing his emotions, Mo Ran aroused no suspicion in the rest of the
group. Each member split off to their individual rooms to rest, and Mo Ran stood in front of his
unit for several moments before he went inside. One of the maids noticed, and – uneasy – asked if
there was something wrong. Mo Ran smiled reassuringly at her. “It just reminds me of somewhere
I used to live,” he said.

“Please let me know if you require anything, honored cultivator,” the maid said anxiously. “I will
fulfill any request you make.”

“I don’t need anything,” Mo Ran said. He looked at the century-old osmanthus tree, trunk so thick
he couldn’t have wrapped his arms around it, the dancing shade of its foliage calling up ghosts of
his past. He turned abruptly. “Wait,” he said to the maid.

“Yes?” She turned back.

“Can you tell me about someone?” He paused, eyes bright with tears. “Do you know of – no, never
mind. Let me ask about someone else. Do you know where Ye Wangxi is?”

“He is Elder Xu’s personal disciple,” the maid said. “He lives in the same courtyard, and you may
find him there, honored cultivator.”

Mo Ran let out a relieved breath. He had last seen Ye Wangxi at the restaurant, begging Nangong
Si to return to the sect as the heir refused, offering to leave if only Nangong Si would return.
Having come to new realizations about Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had also found his view of Ye
Wangxi shifting; he was worried about the other man, who reminded him so much of his teacher,
and he felt that Ye Wangxi had suffered enough across both of Mo Ran’s lifetimes.

Repentant over what he had done to Ye Wangxi in the past, Mo Ran found himself hoping that he
had a better lot this time around, and he was relieved that Nangong Si hadn’t actually been so
heartless as to chase him out of his home. He made his way to Elder Xu’s courtyard, named
Farewell to Three Lifetimes; it was named after a verse honoring the transient nature of life,
reminding the reader not to dwell on the past as all would be forgotten in death anyway. Mo Ran
found it unbearably pessimistic, and thought that with a master like that, it was no wonder Ye
Wangxi had turned out so repressed.
A languidly teasing voice drifted out of the courtyard as Mo Ran waited outside for the guard to
return, and rather than wait to be properly brought inside, he took a few steps past the walls. A man
in his early thirties stood inside the courtyard, dressed in a patched, plain robe. He was barefoot
despite the cold, teasing a white parrot with a handful of sunflower seeds. The parrot, apparently
quite pleased with itself, repeated the man’s words back.

“Well, you’re smarter than little Ye,” the man said. “He couldn’t memorize this bit at all when he
was young.” He fed the parrot some seeds. “Treats from daddy,” he said affectionately.

Mo Ran felt that the man was for the birds, calling himself a parrot’s parent. He must have shifted,
for the man turned and saw him standing by the wall. He spit out his sunflower seed and beamed
brightly at Mo Ran, but there was darkness in his face despite his air of breezy nonchalance. Mo
Ran stood straighter.

“Grandmaster Mo Ran, yes?” said the man. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Mo Ran replied, peering at the man’s face. He looked vaguely familiar, but he
couldn’t remember exactly which member of Rufeng Sect this man had been. He had killed so
many that they all blurred together.

“Foster father, you’re running around without shoes again,” said a familiar voice, and he turned
just tin time to see Ye Wangxi arrive through the round moon gate. He was tall and slender,
expression gentle, and he held up a pair of yellow satin shoes. Mo Ran suddenly remembered the
man in front of him –Nangong Liu had fled to save his own miserable hide when Emperor Evil
Overlord had razed Rufeng Sect to the ground, and Elder Xu had led the resistance in his place.

Defending Rufeng Sect’s seventy-two cities to the end, Elder Xu had finally made the ultimate
sacrifice by stepping between Ye Wangxi and Emperor Evil Overlord’s descending blade. Mo Ran
had been consumed with jealousy in that moment, that a man who wasn’t even Ye Wangxi’s blood
relation would willingly die for him. He had nearly gone mad with it, hating the world that had
abandoned him. He had vowed to slaughter every last person who huddled together for warmth,
shutting him out, jealousy stoking his hatred.

Looking back, Mo Ran knew how monumentally stupid he had been. He hadn’t realized that there
had been at least one person who would have willingly died for him, and it had been the person he
had hated and degraded the most. It took him a moment to wrestle his turbulent emotions back into
place and call the man’s name to mind. Xu Shuanglin stood before him, smiling and carefree and
bathed in sunlight, he who had once died to save Ye Wangxi.

A bitter ache remained in Mo Ran’s heart, and he couldn’t bear to keep looking at Xu Shuanglin.
He approached Ye Wangxi instead. “Young master Ye,” he said, and Ye Wangxi noticed he was
there.

“Brother Mo!” Ye Wangxi said, pleased. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” Mo Ran agreed.

Not having met Mo Ran often in this life, Ye Wangxi continued to smile politely at him. “Are you
looking for Master Xu?”

“No, I came looking for you,” Mo Ran said, feeling somewhat awkward.

“Little Ye, you have a guest,” Xu Shuanglin said with a lazy smile. “When was the last time that
happened?” He popped a sunflower seed into his mouth. “When did you meet Grandmaster Mo?”
“Peach Blossom Springs,” Ye Wangxi said.

“Ah, that’s nice.” Xu Shuanglin poured the rest of the seeds into the bird’s bowl. “You two catch
up, I’m going to go take a walk.”

“Foster father, you’re still not wearing your shoes,” Ye Wangxi said.

“Ah, I forgot.” Xu Shuanglin put the shoes on with an absentminded smile and strolled off, but Mo
Ran saw him pause to remove them just before he strolled around a corner out of sight.

The foster father and his son were bizarre, Mo Ran concluded; Xu Shuanglin’s cultivation method
had kept his appearance young enough to seem like Ye Wangxi’s brother rather than his father, and
his temperament made him seem like a younger sibling. The man didn’t match the plaque outside
at all, with its Farewell To Three Lifetimes inscription. Ye Wangxi turned to Mo Ran, interrupting
his thoughts. “Shall we?” he said.

Side by side, the two cultivators walked along a shaded path. The courtyard had both flowering and
fruiting trees, but in the middle of winter only bare branches were to be seen. Ye Wangxi
apologized for the embarrassment of their previous encounter, but Mo Ran waved him off.

“No need,” he said. “How have you been?” He regretted the question as soon as it passed his lips;
Ye Wangxi was the stoic type who wouldn’t admit to troubles even if he had them.

“I can’t complain,” Ye Wangxi said, as expected. “You?”

“Not bad.”

Without a close relationship, Mo Ran had no reason to seek out Ye Wangxi’s companionship. He
had wanted to redress the wrongs he had done in his previous life, but now he had no idea how. He
knew many of Ye Wangxi’s secrets, which didn’t help matters at all. After a few moments, Ye
Wangxi broke the increasingly awkward silence. “How’s Terri Fying?” he asked.

“You still remember him?” Mo Ran chuckled, surprised to hear the name after so long. “I’m
impressed.”

“It’s a memorable name,” Ye Wangxi said.

“Technically, you’ll meet him later,” Mo Ran said.

“Oh, he’s here?” Ye Wangxi seemed surprised.

“Ah, I haven’t told you how that turned out,” Mo Ran said. “It’s a long story.” He recounted the
chain of events that led to Chu Wanning’s miniature alter ego.

With a pensive sigh, Ye Wangxi said, “You’re lucky to have him as a master.”

“Rufeng Sect is very fortunate to count you as one of their disciples, young master.”

Blushing slightly, Ye Wangxi demurred. “You’re too kind, young master Mo.”

A small red pontoon bridge appeared before them, surrounded by verdant stalks of bamboo. It was
the first greenery Mo Ran had seen. The waters at the sect had been infused with qi to keep them
warm throughout the winter, giving the area around the bridge the illusion of summer. Mo Ran
glanced sideways to see Ye Wangxi with his eyes downturned, gazing at the sparkling stream.

Suddenly Mo Ran saw the weariness on Ye Wangxi’s face, and he knew that the other man found
Nangong Si’s marriage hard to bear. He had sympathy, remembering when he had been so
desperate for Chu Wanning’s approval and hadn’t received so much as a glance, and he made a
spur of the moment invitation. “Come to Sisheng Peak,” he said.

“Uh, what?”

Knowing Ye Wangxi’s likely reply, Mo Ran sighed. “Don’t mind me,” he said.

Ye Wangxi’s elegant smile hadn’t changed, even framed by cheeks somewhat sunken in. He
looked more sorrowful than elegant now, the emotion clear despite his obvious attempts to hide it.
“Brother Mo, are you here to poach our best cultivators for your sect?” he joked.

“You’re on to me,” Mo Ran said. “Though I didn’t think you’d bite, so please pay me no mind.”

“My foster father is still here,” Ye Wangxi said. “So I’m not going anywhere.”

“So what are your plans?” Mo Ran asked.

Pain flashed across Ye Wangxi’s face, and he was at a loss for an answer for the first time. He
couldn’t have answered that question even with days or months to think about it, knowing only that
he was a moth to Nangong Si’s flame. He couldn’t help being drawn to it, even if it led to his ruin.
Nangong Si didn’t want him, and there was nothing he could do about it. “I’ll stay at Rufeng Sect
and perform my duties,” he said with a small smile. “Serving the sect leader, my foster father, and
the young master.”

Mo Ran saw his hands tighten into fists, and he was disturbed that Ye Wangxi could speak so
calmly of his own breaking heart. The joints turned pale as jade as Ye Wangxi hesitated before
speaking again, and Mo Ran felt a pang. Ye Wangxi’s voice was still smooth, as he spoke.

“And the young mistress.” He dropped his gaze briefly, looking back at Mo Ran with a gentle,
polite expression.

A sudden gust picked up, sending the fresh-fallen snow scattering amongst the bamboo groves. In
that moment, Mo Ran decided that Nangong Si was not going to marry Song Qiutong.

------

A rumor threatened to derail the mood as the grand wedding ceremony approached; every major
sect had heard the story that Ye Wangxi and Song Qiutong were having an affair. Those who
whispered in the shadows kept their talk as secret as possible from any members of Rufeng Sect
who might have eavesdropped, but the tale still grew in the telling. Each iteration was spicier than
the last, until finally even the non-cultivating commoners in the villages outside of Linyi knew
with absolute certainty that the heir to Rufeng Sect had been cuckolded before his wedding.

The rumors included a thread of truth – it hadn’t been known that Ye Wangxi had purchased the
Butterfly-boned Beauty Feast at the auction before she had been snatched away by Nangong Si,
and its presence made the lies all the more believable. Men and women, rich and poor, cultivators
and commoners, all spoke in hushed tones that Nangong Si’s betrothed was an unabashed slut. The
gossiping crowds delighted in condemning the bride’s heartlessness as the story continued to
develop.

The tale that Chu Wanning heard maintained that Song Qiutong was only marrying Nangong Si
because she was pregnant with Ye Wangxi’s child and he – heartless as he was – refused to
recognize his illegitimate offspring in favor of his career. Although he knew Nangong Si, Chu
Wanning had yet to become acquainted with either of the other two, and couldn’t determine how
true the rumor might be. He was furious, but unsure of where to direct his ire.

The only person apparently oblivious to the situation was Nangong Si himself – he came to pay
Chu Wanning a visit, telling stories of his pet faewolf and completely ignoring the subtle hints Chu
Wanning attempted to drop. “The pups should be born next month,” he was saying happily,
ecstatic over his successful attempts to breed his wolf. “I’ll have my father send one to Sisheng
Peak.”

“I worry that the pup’s blood wouldn’t be pure,” Chu Wanning said, trying to be indirect.

“Oh, they’re both cultivated from snow wolves,” Nangong Si assured him. “They both have pure
bloodlines.”

“The female has never had relations with a demon wolf?” Chu Wanning asked, hinting harder.

“That’s impossible,” Nangong Si said. “She was raised by the Bitan Estate and is the only one of
her kind there.”

Feeling that he had obviously and clearly told Nangong Si that there was a rumor that his fiancé
was banging Ye Wangxi by implying that his faewolves were of questionable quality, Chu
Wanning grew frustrated. He tried again. “Didn’t she have to stay at Rufeng Sect?” he asked.
“There are so many faewolves here.”

With a bright laugh, Nangong Si dismissed the question. “No, no. They were kept in the same
pen.” Without noticing Chu Wanning’s irritation, Nangong Si stood. “Would you like to ride my
wolf? The track field has been finished.”

“No,” Chu Wanning said. “You’re about to be a married man,” he added. “Spend time with your
bride instead of wasting time on wolves. If you don’t spend time with her, you’ll never maintain a
good relationship.”

The worst person in the world to give relationship advice, ladies and gentlemen

“She treats me well,” Nangong Si said. “She’s perfectly obedient. If you think I’m neglecting her,
Grandmaster, I’ll call her over here to lay your fears to rest. She would like to meet you as well,
after I told her so much about you.”

Figuring he could further discern the truth of the rumors if he learned more of Song Qiutong’s
character, Chu Wanning nodded. “I’ll wait for you at the track field,” he said.

As Nangong Si left, Mo Ran entered. They exchanged polite greetings before Mo Ran entered the
courtyard to find Chu Wanning standing beneath the osmanthus tree. A table with two teacups was
next to him. “Oh, Nangong Si came to see you, sir?”

“Yes,” Chu Wanning answered. “He wants me to see his faewolf. As this attire is inappropriate for
riding, I shall go change.”

Knowing how ferocious faewolves could be, Mo Ran didn’t want to let Chu Wanning go on his
own. “I’ll join you, sir.”

“You know how to ride wolves?” Chu Wanning asked with a sidelong glance.

“Yes, sir,” Mo Ran said. “I’m excellent at riding horses, so in theory, I can ride anything.”

Chu Wanning’s brain went straight to the gutter, assuming the filthiest possible connotation for the
word ride. His dreams flashed before his eyes, the positions the two of them had taken in the
dreams, and how he himself had been limp as Mo Ran had ridden him. He flushed bright red and
vanished behind the door.

Xiaoyue Track Field was a vast pasture, frozen and windswept. The winter sun was hidden behind
a layer of dark clouds, lending it an air of silent unreality. At the end of the horizon, Rufeng Sect’s
dense, private hunting woods glowed green and gold with a cloud of evergreens. Nangong Si stood
by the wooden fence, chatting with Song Qiutong, and saw the two cultivators approaching. He
chuckled at the sight of Mo Ran.

“Grandmaster Mo,” he said. “Do you not trust me with your teacher?”

“No,” Mo Ran said with a laugh. “I came to give him a better target for his crankiness than you. I
wouldn’t want you to suffer.”

With an irritated glare, Chu Wanning retorted, “I think you’re here to set things on fire.”

A soft giggle floated out from behind Nangong Si, and Song Qiutong stepped into view. She was
delicate and lovely, impeccably dressed and groomed. She looked between Mo Ran and Chu
Wanning. “I have heard many speak of the deep bond between Grandmaster Chu and Grandmaster
Mo. I am warmed to see that it is true.”

------

At Xuanyuan Pavilion, Chu Wanning had found Song Qiutong to be incredibly beautiful from a
distance. Seen from up close, he found her to be devastatingly gorgeous – ebony black and silky
hair with a mien that could only brighten her surroundings. He knew exactly what Nangong Si saw
in her. He glanced sideways at Mo Ran, expecting to see his reaction, but instead he met Mo Ran’s
gaze. Ignoring Song Qiutong completely, his disciple gave him a gentle smile.

Despite going weak at the knees, Chu Wanning had to fake composure. He stared at Mo Ran
coldly and turned away. Nangong Si was leading them into the field, chattering excitedly.

“My Naobaijin is the doughtiest faewolf here,” he was saying, “although there are many. I like him
the best.” He blew three sharp notes on the jade flute hanging at his waist as they reached the
center of the field.

Demonic winds billowed out of the woods in the distance, followed by a flash of a snow-white
silhouette. A faewolf with glistening fur and gleaming eyes appeared almost instantly in front of
them, letting out a long howl. It landed steadily before Nangong Si and let out a little bark.
Nangong Si ruffled its mane.

“He was so tiny when you left, Grandmaster,” he said. “Look how big he’s gotten.”

“He was the height of a grown man the last time I saw him,” Chu Wanning said flatly.

“Really?” Nangong Si laughed. “I always think he’s small.” He grinned. “Try riding him,
Grandmaster.” The flute summoned another pair of faewolves, and Nangong Si gestured to Mo
Ran in invitation. “Grip the reins or the scruff,” he said, “It’s pretty similar to riding horses.”

With Song Qiutong climbing up behind Nangong Si, Chu Wanning gingerly mounted Naobaijin.
Although he was dubious, he soon found that it was even easier than riding a horse. Intelligent and
obedient, faewolves synched with their riders perfectly.

“Shall we run a lap?” Nangong Si said.

“Anywhere we want?” Mo Ran asked impishly.

“The forest of the back mountain and the track field,” Nangong Si told him.

“A race, then,” Mo Ran said with a grin.

Now assuming Song Qiutong and Nangong Si could use the opportunity to build their relationship,
Chu Wanning added his support to the idea. Nangong Si untied a bracelet of spiritual stones. “Lake
Ganguan is on the north side of the forest,” he said. “We go there, catch five groupers, and return.
Winner takes the bracelet.”

“Isn’t that the seven stars spiritual stone bracelet?” Song Qiutong asked. “Isn’t that a little too
ostentatious, young master?”

“A thousand gold could not buy joy,” Nangong Si told her. He tightened his hold on the reins.
“Hold tight and don’t fall.”

With a sly glance at Song Qiutong, Mo Ran sniped, “You might as well get used to the idea of
losing that bracelet.”

“You’re underestimating me!” Nangong Si said. “I grew up on the back of wolves! On the count of
three!”

The last number had barely dropped from his lips when the three wolves launched themselves
forward. It only took seconds to reach the ends of the hunting grounds and reach the woods. Song
Qiutong screamed in terror the entire way, and Chu Wanning soon became impatient with her
whining. He sped up and surpassed the other two, slowly beginning to feel the joy of riding a
faewolf.

Naobaijin responded instantly to the slightest move of his fingertip, and Chu Wanning began to
understand why Nangong Si valued him so much. The cold wind brushed past his face, but he
didn’t feel the chill at all. He surged forward, feeling a kind of ecstasy as the faewolf tore through
the heavily needled forest. Mo Ran was hot on his heels, full of delight and relief.

The two cultivators from Sisheng Peak reached the lake almost simultaneously. The azure waters
gleamed, clear as a mirror and overflowing with spiritual qi. The flower fruit trees were unaffected
by the passing seasons due to their nourishment with qi, and they were thick and flourishing. The
faewolves skidded to a halt and Chu Wanning scanned their surroundings.

“This is a beautiful place,” he said.

Mo Ran approached. “We’ll plant many fruit trees on Sisheng Peak, then,” he said. “We’ll grow
them year round and eat fruit whenever we want.”

With a noncommittal grunt, Chu Wanning walked to the lake and summoned his spiritual weapon.
Mo Ran sensed that whatever he was planning would not go well. “Sir, what are you doing?”

“Catching fish.”

“Sir, you’re not thinking of blowing them out of the water with an explosion, are you?”

With a glare, Chu Wanning turned to the lake. He threw the vine over the water. “Are you tired of
living?” he said boredly. “Hooked be the willing.” After repeating the phrase three times, Mo Ran
saw several fat fish latched onto the golden vine. Chu Wanning eyed them and turned smugly to
Mo Ran. “He said groupers, right?”
“He did.”

“What does a grouper look like?” Chu Wanning thought better of his indirect question and held up
his holy weapon. “Are any of these groupers?” he clarified.

“I’ll catch them for you, sir,” Mo Ran said. He rapidly caught over a dozen fish, dividing them
between himself and Chu Wanning.

After releasing the other fish, Chu Wanning returned to shore. The lake water shimmered behind
him, somehow obscuring his form with tenderness. Mo Ran suddenly wanted to grab him and kiss
him, pin him against an orange tree, and violate him until he begged for mercy. At the same time,
he wanted to treat him with the utmost gentleness. Mo Ran came to the realization that his desires
were conflicting, but he knew that all his desires were tied up in Chu Wanning.

“Nangong Si,” Chu Wanning complained, heedless of Mo Ran’s emotional turmoil. “Letting a girl
slow him down like that.”

“You don’t know what he’s doing,” Mo Ran said thoughtlessly, staring at Chu Wanning’s exposed
neck.

Chu Wanning opened his mouth as if to ask what Mo Ran meant before understanding spread
across his face. “Get on your wolf,” he snarled. “Time to go.”

With a regretful look at Chu Wanning’s skillful seat upon Naobaijin, Mo Ran felt shocked and
criminal for his lewd thoughts. He wanted Chu Wanning to belong to him and only him, to fuck
him until he was so spent he could mount nothing. He shook his head, and Chu Wanning saw the
gesture.

“Why are you shaking your head?” he asked. “Do you think I have scolded you inappropriately?”

“No, sir,” Mo Ra said. “I was wrong.”

He sighed internally, wishing he could break Naobaijin’s legs so that Chu Wanning would be
forced to ride with him. He stuck close to Chu Wanning the entire way, but when they returned to
the track field it was to find Nangong Si and Song Qiutong waiting for them. The lady sat on the
ground, her ankles exposed and bloody.

“What the hell,” Mo Ran said, and they learned that she had failed to follow directions while
riding. Nangong Si had been forced to bring her back early to treat her wounds. Mo Ran eyed her
exposed legs, finding them not as attractive as Chu Wanning’s. In fact, he thought, no one
anywhere had any feature at all that was more attractive than Chu Wanning’s.

“I accept the loss,” Nangong Si said, and gave Chu Wanning the bracelet for his victory.

“These are good for nourishing spiritual cores,” Chu Wanning remarked, accepting the bracelet
and his victory. Neither he nor Mo Ran mentioned that Chu Wanning had caught none of the fish.
“I do need them,” he added. “Many thanks.”

Annoyed, Mo Ran muttered under his breath. “I’ll get you better ones next time.”

“What was that?” Chu Wanning asked, too far away to hear clearly. He turned his head to look at
Mo Ran.

“Uh,” Mo Ran said, mesmerized by his face clearly reflected in Chu Wanning’s pupils. They were
so close as to nearly touch. “If I see any more that suit you well, sir, I’ll buy them for you.”
“Fine,” Chu Wanning said, his direct answer warming Mo Ran’s heart.

Mo Ran threw a petty glance toward Nangong Si, needing to win the competition that Nangong Si
wasn’t aware they were having. He needed the other man to see that Chu Wanning would thank
him politely but was close enough to Mo Ran to drop courteous formalities. He smiled smugly.

“Get a receipt from the owner and I’ll repay you,” Chu Wanning added.

The freshwater groupers were taken to a hunter’s cabin near the track field, which boasted a hearth
caked in ashes. No dishes were missing, but the cabin seemed to be older than the rest of the
structures in the field. Chu Wanning brushed the fence with his fingers, stopping when he saw an
old rope tied there.

“I put that there the year you left, Grandmaster,” Nangong Si said. “It’s almost rotten through
now.” A soft sigh was Chu Wanning’s only response. He sat at a small stool he had used many
times before; when Nangong Si had been a small child, Chu Wanning had often taken him to the
track field to run around. The cabin was left from those days.

The groupers were quickly cleaned and set to grill, sizzling as they cooked. Nangong Si gave two
fish each to the three wolves outside, sprinkling salt over the remaining four before distributing
them to the party. Song Qiutong ate very little of her fish before giving the rest to her fiancé,
claiming she was no longer hungry. Chu Wanning, watching out of the corner of his eye, found her
behavior to be obedient and gentle, nothing like the cheating woman described in the rumors.

The self-satisfied thought that rumors weren’t to be trusted after all was interrupted by a lotus leaf
appearing in Chu Wanning’s field of vision. It held carefully cut fish meat with all of the bones
picked out. Chu Wanning frowned, confused, and he looked up to see Mo Ran putting away his
silver knife.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said. “Have this one.”

“Where did you get the lotus leaf?” Chu Wanning wanted to know.

“From the lake, when we caught the fish,” Mo Ran said. “Eat while it’s hot. It won’t be as good
cold.”

The offer sent something rippling through Chu Wanning’s heart. He accepted gratefully, not
wanting to be bothered with picking the bones out of his own food. “Thank you.”

The water for tea had boiled as they finished eating, and Song Qiutong served the group. She
offered the tea politely with both hands. A bright dot of cinnabar decorated her fair wrists, and Chu
Wanning suddenly recalled that the pavilion master at the auction described the chastity cinnabar
applied by the Sage of Hanlin. If it was untouched, he reasoned, then the rumor of the affair was
clearly nonsense.

Finally able to relax, Chu Wanning thought that Nangong Si was a simple and uncalculating
person with natural fierceness. He liked the man, and wanted him to make a good match. Song
Qiutong, he felt, was appropriate. As he reached this conclusion, Song Qiutong was offering tea to
Mo Ran, who accepted it but set it down beside himself instead of drinking it.

“Miss Song,” he said. “I have something for you.”

------

As he spoke, Mo Ran produced a bracelet made of crystals forged from the mountain of the god of
fire and strung together with mother-of-pearl. Shining brilliantly, it was clearly valuable. “Your
letter requested a carp crystal,” he said. “But unfortunately, I used that crystal to forge a sword for
my cousin. I have prepared this for you instead.”

“Oh, no, this is too precious,” Song Qiutong said breathlessly. “I can’t possibly accept it.”

“You can’t refuse a wedding gift,” Mo Ran chuckled. “The bracelet of water and fire can suppress
fire-type spiritual power just as well as the carp crystal, but as it’s only suitable for women to wear,
you’ll have to be the one to use it.”

Only after Nangong Si gave her a nod of approval did Song Qiutong accept the bracelet gracefully.
She bowed with respect. “Many thanks, Grandmaster Mo.”

Formalities concluded, the group was able to relax with their tea. Chu Wanning questioned
Nangong Si about the practicalities and small details of the wedding, worried about last-minute
mishaps, and Nangong Si laughed warmly. “Don’t worry, Grandmaster, I’ve been checking up on
things.” He smiled. “I’m not the same irresponsible kid you used to worry about. I’ll make sure my
bride shines.”

Pouring another cup of tea, Mo Ran remembered when he had married Song Qiutong. She had
been the most beautiful woman in the world, but he hadn’t set foot in the bridal chamber on their
wedding night. He’d been too drunk and her face had struck him as horrifying rather than beautiful.
He’d remembered what seemed like bizarre, disjointed moments, all of which involved Chu
Wanning, and he’d shuddered upon lifting his new bride’s veil.

“Husband,” Song Qiutong had said softly, red lips delicately parted, every inch of her redolent with
sweetness. Mo Ran had felt bizarrely unsatisfied and unsure why – he stood on top of the world, he
had married the most beautiful woman alive, and yet he was repulsed when she addressed him as
her husband. She wasn’t the refuge from his horde of supporters that he craved, and he had shoved
her away.

Song Qiutong had fallen under the force of his rough handling, dangling accessories in her hair
trembling, and Mo Ran had perceived his surroundings as contorted and surreal. The golden light
of the candles seemed like ghost fire dancing atop bloody tears, and he had fled. There were few
who had known that the Evil Overlord had abandoned his bride to visit the Red Lotus Pavilion
instead. There he had stayed the entire night and following day. Shaking off the memory, Mo Ran
shivered imperceptibly.

After bidding farewell to the betrothed couple, the two cultivators from Sisheng Peak returned to
their courtyard. “What were you thinking of earlier, when Nangong Si called his bride beautiful?”
Chu Wanning asked suddenly.

“I was imagining her wedding gown,” Mo Ran said, and a flare of jealousy kindled in Chu
Wanning’s heart.

Frigid and furious, he snapped his sleeve. “Do not imagine improper things,” he said.

“I wasn’t,” Mo Ran said, chuckling. “I just thought she won’t be as pretty as you were, sir.”

The anger dissipated abruptly, and Chu Wanning paled and flushed in turns. It took several
moments to reply. “I’ll thank you to ignore the absurd incident with the ghost mistress,” he said
finally.

Mo Ran stifled a sigh, not wanting to say that Chu Wanning was the one who had brought it up.
He thought absently that even being scolded by his teacher was sweet. Laced with desire, Mo Ran
loved Chu Wanning no matter what he did.

The day before the grand wedding, Rufeng Sect was filled with guests. Affiliated with major sects
or no one at all, merchants or commoners, newly arrived or days into their stay, crowds gathered at
the main city. Carriages dotted the streets, carrying a seemingly endless supply of lavishly dressed
men and women wearing silk and jewelry. Amidst the chaos, Xue Meng found himself introduced
to one beautiful female cultivator after another.

One particular introduction went sideways almost immediately; the young cultivator had just
turned sixteen, and Xue Meng took her for a stroll in the gardens at their parents persistent urging.
She walked demurely beside him until they were out of earshot, and then rounded on him. “Young
master Xue,” she said. “Let’s be very clear. You’re not my type.”

The nebulous resentment of the situation in general sharpened into indignation. “Not your type,
Miss Xiao?” Xue Meng said incredulously. He was everyone’s type.

“I know why you dragged me out here,” she said loftily. “But my heart is taken.”

“I dragged you out here?” Xue Meng repeated. “This wasn’t my idea, Miss Xiao Mantuo!”

“Are you telling me I’m unlikable?” Xiao Mantuo slapped him. She opened her mouth, glaring
furiously, as Xue Meng restrained himself from responding in kind, but then her gaze refocused
beyond his shoulder. “Young master Mei!” she called, expression entirely different.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Xue Meng said, astounded that they were on a remote path in
the middle of nowhere and yet Mei Hanxue still showed up to flirt with a pretty girl.

Rather than accept Xiao Mantuo’s attention, Mei Hanxue dropped a barrier between the two of
them the moment she started running toward him. He looked her up and down. “I’m sorry, ma’am,
you have the wrong person,” he said.

“You gave me a golden perfumed pouch,” she protested. “You said I was unforgettable and that
you’d ask for my hand in marriage when I turned eighteen. What do you mean, I have the wrong
person?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.” Mei Hanxue shook his head politely and continued walking,
leaving the barrier in place.

Both infuriated and mollified, Xue Meng could only watch. “No wonder you’re creeping around
the middle of nowhere,” he muttered. “Unfaithful and cold, just like the meaning of your name.”
His poor companion must have done something terrible in a previous life, he thought, to be cursed
with falling in love with an asshole like Mei Hanxue.

The lecher’s path away from Xiao Mantuo took him past Xue Meng, and he cast him a sidelong
glance as he approached. Xue Meng lifted his chin, eyes flashing. He was prepared to look down
on him as their paths crossed, but Mei Hanxue stopped unexpectedly. “Your face is swollen,” he
said. “In a particular manner.”

Nonplussed, Xue Meng faltered and blushed. He spun away, furious. “None of your business!” he
snapped. “I tripped, that’s all!”

“Watch where you walk in the future,” Mei Hanxue told him, and swanned off.

“You asshole!” Xue Meng called after him. “Get back here! I’m not done with you!”
Chasing after Mei Hanxue’s rapidly disappearing form, Xue Meng failed to look where he was
going. He ran right into another man, dressed in blue and wearing the crown of Lonemoon Sect. He
looked reproachfully at Xue Meng with beautiful eyes and a bewitching face and pushed him
away. Xue Meng stumbled, coming to rights as the man finished resettling his robes, and his gaze
focused on the distinctively patterned silver ring.

“Jiang Xi?” Xue Meng said, recognizing Lonemoon’s sect leader. His cultivation method had
stopped his aging somewhere in his twenties; although he was around the same age as Xue
Zhengyong, that was all the two sect leaders had in common. Xue Meng remembered that this had
been the only one of the ten great sect leaders to be absent during the Spiritual Mountain
Competition and that he’d wondered what he looked like.

Now that had seen him, Xue Meng was shaken by his affluence and refined taste. Jiang Xi,
annoyed, glared at him. “Who are you to address me by name?” he snapped.

Even more humiliated than by the encounter with Mei Hanxue, Xue Meng took refuge in outrage.
“So what, you’re old and no one is allowed to say your name? What do you want me to call you,
Honored Sect Leader Cultivator? Not even Nangong Liu was this uppity!”

“How disrespectful,” Jiang Xi said coldly. “Whose disciple are you?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” Xue Meng snapped back. “I’m not one of your little monkeys at
Lonemoon.”

“Meng,” called a gentle voice, stopping Xue Meng’s tirade before it really got going. He looked
past Jiang Xi to see his mother, and realized she’d probably heard him insulting her former sect
leader. She seemed pale and anxious, hurrying to stop him. “Meng,” she said again. “Stop that.
Come here.”

With another angry glare, Xue Meng stalked around Jiang Xi and bowed respectfully. “Mother,” he
said.

After a moment, Jiang Xi slowly turned around with narrowed eyes. His face shone with a
malicious light as he looked at the pair in front of him. “This must be the darling of the heavens,”
he said spitefully. “Son of Xue Zhengyong, Xue Meng.” He smiled mockingly. “As expected of
Xue Zhengyong’s seed, so polite.”

“Don’t insult my father!” Xue Meng hissed.

“Meng!” Madam Wang pulled him behind her and bowed deeply and respectfully. “Honored sect
leader, my son is spoiled. Please don’t take offense.”

“Oh, it’s honored sect leader, is it,” Jiang Xi said venomously. He looked down on her. “Half his
blood is yours, my honored disciple, and I could recognize him as a nephew.”

“Who wants to be your nephew?” Xue Meng snapped, outraged.

“Meng, please,” his mother said. Jiang Xi sneered at Xue Meng before returning his gaze to
Madam Wang. She looked down immediately. “Please, honored sect leader, I’m married now and
no longer a disciple of Lonemoon Sect. I couldn’t possibly be so bold as to claim kinship.”

“Excellent,” Jiang Xi said coldly. “I have seen today that a filthy place such as Sisheng Peak has
covered even a fine white magnolia with dirt.”

“You fucking say that again and I’ll rip out your throat!” Xue Meng snarled, surging forward. His
mother’s grip on his robes loosened, and all that stopped the altercation was an incredibly
conveniently timed loud noise in the sky.

Fireworks exploded with resounding booms, gongs drummed, and Rufeng Sect’s Master of
Ceremonies spoke across all seventy-two cities with a sound-amplification spell. “The Welcoming
Reception will take place this evening at the Yu hour in Shile Hall,” he said. “Every esteemed
guest is invited to attend.”

With a cold look, Jiang Xi straightened his sleeves and stalked off.

------

The wedding festivities lasted for three days. On the first day, a welcoming banquet was held. It
was meant to set the stage for the ceremony itself, but its liveliest portion was not at the tables. It
was the hunting grounds, where three spiritual deer in red silk were released into the garden.
Twenty-two unmarried men and women were sent to chase the deer, with a prize of ten million
gold coins for any deer captured.

The hunting forest was visible from the grand entrance of Shile Hall, shrouded in the afterglow of
the setting sun, and the guests greeted Nangong Liu as they arrived. He returned all greetings
regardless of station, inviting the guests to take their seats. The night banquet officially began
under the brightening stars, with who might be chosen to chase the deer as the hot topic of
conversation.

Nangong Si and Song Qiutong appeared at the entrance simultaneously, walking up to the balcony
to greet their sect leader. With a smile, Nangong Liu stood. “Honored guests,” he said, “you have
come from all over the world to witness my son’s wedding.”

The crowd cupped their hands in polite appreciation, calling out thanks and acknowledgments.
Their flattering words mirrored what Mo Ran had heard when he’d been married, and the
insincerity annoyed him. HE scanned the crowd for Ye Wangxi, finding him next to his foster
father with his eyes downcast and dressed in simple attire. He was eating, eyes fixed on his plate
rather than look at the bride and groom. Mo Ran thought he looked like a man who, desperately
wanting something and knowing it will never be his, has finally seen it going to someone else.

“Come, draw,” said an old servant with a clear voice, interrupting Mo Ran’s thoughts. The servant
held up a bronze twined branch and presented it to Nangong Liu. “Please draw the lots, Honored
Sect Leader!”

“It is time!” Nangong Liu said, smiling. “Twenty-two lots will be drawn, and the lucky young
heroes will be given the opportunity to hunt the night deer! Any who do not wish to participate
should inform me in advance.”

Some few women from smaller sects who were too timid approached, requesting to be removed
from the drawing. Xu Shuanglin glanced at Ye Wangxi with a lazy smile, watching the byplay.
“Xiao, dear, do you want to go play?”

“I’m not going,” Ye Wangxi said. “May I trouble you to ask the sect leader to remove my name?”

“What if we get lucky and got the ten million?” Xu Shuanglin objected. He gave a wry smile at Ye
Wangxi’s affronted silence. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll go in your place.”

“Foster father, you’re in your forties,” Ye Wangxi gritted out.

“I look young enough,” Xu Shuanglin said. “I’ll come back with all three and we’ll really be rich.”
He put on his shoes and wandered up to Nangong Liu; it looked for all the world like he was
asking for Ye Wangxi to be removed from consideration.

With the trickle of people bowing out coming to an end, Nangong Liu chose his twenty-two guests.
Elder Shuanglin stood to the side, taking the lots and commenting on each. His eyes widened at
one particular lot. “Oh, the darling of the heavens, Xue Meng, has been selected,” he said, and
turned to Nangong Liu for the next. After he had read twenty-one names, he smiled. “I will be the
final contestant,” he said. “Please advise me, as my aged bones require assistance.”

Always knowing how to pick his battles, Nangong Liu simply gave a helpless smile and handed
out the message fuses to each contestant. “Deerchasers,” he said. “This fuse is evidence of capture.
When three have been set off, all the deer have been captured. At that time, we will welcome you
back from the Moonhowl Courtyard, and reward the winners.”

The crowd applauded, catcalling support for their acquaintances and favorites. Nangong Liu let the
adulation go on for a few moments, and then raised his hand for silence. The crowd leaned
forward, eagerly anticipating his next words.

“The first place contestant will be awarded ten demonic wolves,” Nangong Liu said. “In
accordance with my son’s wishes.”

A single demonic wolf was a hot commodity on the black market and impossible to find legally,
Mo Ran knew; ten of them made an unthinkably lavish prize. The hall exploded in an excited
uproar, the shouts of encouragement becoming cruder and more outrageous by the second to the
cheers and laughter of everyone. Mo Ran stood, leaning close to Chu Wanning to be heard over the
din. “Sir, I’ll accompany Xue Meng to the hunting grounds,” he said. “Please wait here.”

“He’s too reckless,” Chu Wanning said. “Go tell him to be careful.”

“Yes, sir.” Mo Ran disappeared into the night with the rest of the crowd on the way to the hunting
grounds, and Chu Wanning watched him go. He drank the red wine in his cup, sure that his
disciple would win the money; they would be able to pave the roads of the lower cultivation world
with spiritual stones.

The first red firework exploded in the sky before Nangong Liu had finished his cup of tea, and he
laughed. The surrounding elders started to speculate on who had gotten a deer so quickly, and it
devolved into rapid wagers and bets on the outcome of the hunt. The names written on red silk
quickly collected various wagers written on chips.

Xue Zhengyong poked at Chu Wanning. “What do you way we join in?” Wordlessly, Chu
Wanning slammed his money pouch on the table. Xue Zhengyong stared at it, pole-axed. “How
much?” he asked.

“Three hundred thousand,” Chu Wanning said. “The more money we gather, the more spiritual
stones we can buy to pave the village squares,” he added.

“What if Xue Meng loses?” Xue Zhengyong said.

“He’s your son and my disciple,” Chu Wanning said simply. “He won’t lose.” As Xue Zhengyong
still looked worried, he added, “it’s out of our hands now. Heaven’s will be done.”

Even Nangong Si got involved with the betting, over Song Qiutong’s protests. He promised to buy
her jewelry with his winnings, silencing her objections. She lowered her head shyly and sweetly,
hiding the trace of unease on her face.
A sharp sound came from behind Chu Wanning and he turned immediately to dodge the attack. A
white light flashed past his face to strike the main pillar. Powder scattered in all directions,
entering the three points of the tree. A sharp whistle blew, announcing assassins and inciting
immediate chaos.

Nangong Si’s eyes gleamed ruthlessly as he wiped the blood off his face. The weapon striking the
pillar appeared to be an ordinary arrow that had nonetheless pierced deep into the hard stone.
Nangong Liu pulled a letter from the arrow, his face changing as he read it. His hand clenched into
a fist when he had done, tearing the paper. He summoned power to burn the paper.

“Stop,” Nangoing Liu said.

“It’s a filthy rumor,” Nangong Si retorted, energy crackling brighter.

“Give it to me,” his father said, quick enough to trap his son. He took it from Nangong Si’s
paralyzed hand, scanning it quickly. When he was done, he burned it into ash. “It’s too absurd,” he
said with a laugh, but for once his face bore an ugly expression instead of an easy smile. “Such a
cheap joke.”

“A joke?” came a hoarse voice, and Ye Wangxi appeared from the corner to stand in front of
Nangong Si with his sword drawn protectively. Chu Wanning stood, looking around for the source
of the voice; whoever it was had emerged unnoticed into a hall full of martial artists. “Sect Leader
Nangong,” the voice continued. “I reminded you not to let your son marry a woman with a lustful
nature. You didn’t listen.”

A shadow flashed through the hall to land in its center, a space opening in the middle of the crowd.
The man, wearing a ferocious bronze mask and an ink-black cloak, stood with his hands clasped
arrogantly behind his back as the crowd tripped over each other trying to get away. “If I’d wanted
to hurt you,” he said, “you’d already be dead. Stand still.”

------

Although he appeared calm on the surface, beads of sweat were gathering on Nangong Liu’s
forehead. “Who exactly are you?” he asked. “What are your intentions?”

“I just wanted to remind you that this wedding is a bad idea,” said the stranger. The guests began to
glance at each other, remembering the rumors that had spread far and wide in the weeks leading up
to the wedding.

The marriage contract had been sent out, however, and Nangong Liu found himself regretting it.
He hesitated before giving a cold snort. “As long as my son likes her, there’s no need for outsiders
to worry about the state of his marriage.”

The stranger smiled, his expression visible despite the bronze mask covering his entire face. “Sect
Leader,” he said, “your heart is indeed generous. Which clan is she from, Nangong or Ye?”

Song Qiutong paled in fury at the insult. “Slanderer!” she called.

“Who’s slandering you?” the stranger sneered back. “I know what you did with Ye Wangxi.”

“What are you talking about?” Ye Wangxi said, stunned. He hadn’t been aware of the rumor,
either.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” said the masked stranger. “We all saw you spend your own money to
rescue this woman at the auction. Are you saying your intentions were pure?”
“I only wanted to rescue someone who needed help.”

“And yet you didn’t set her free?”

“She’s a Butterfly-boned Beauty Feast, a throwback. Everyone knows it. She would have been
targeted immediately. I brought her here to keep her safe.”

“So altruistic,” sneered the stranger. “Such a kind man.”

“My conscience is clear,” Ye Wangxi said calmly, but no one believed him. The guests were
mostly from the upper cultivation world, ready to scheme and betray to gain any sort of advantage,
and none of them could countenance acting for any reason other than personal gain.

“You’re just trying to stir up trouble,” Nangong Si said loudly. “Identify yourself.”

“Young sir, you truly do not appreciate my good intention,” said the stranger. He paced around the
hall, coming to a stop in front of Song Qiutong. “Miss Song, your husband trusts you so much that
you stand here as calmly as if you really were innocent.”

“Don’t cast aspersions on me!” Song Qiutong said, but her voice shook.

“You aren’t innocent,” the stranger snapped. “You volunteered to serve Ye Wangxi. The two of
you met in private. I know. I saw you.”

“You’re lying!” Song Qiutong shouted.

“Then why are you shaking?” said the stranger silkily.

“Because you’re humiliating me!” she said, but her voice was breathy and panicked. “Young
master,” she said, looking desperately at her husband-to-be. He paced to her side and faced down
the stranger.

“Stop slandering me,” he said.

“I have something to tell you,” the stranger laughed. “Whether or not I’m slandering you, this is
true. Your wife-to-be’s left thigh has a red mole. It’s about the size of a grain of rice, brightly
colored. If I had not seen her with Lord Ye, then how would I know?”

“Please!” Song Wiutong pulled at her betrothed’s sleeve, crying. “No, he must have looked while I
was bathing,” she sobbed.

“Why would I want to watch that?” the stranger mocked. “Go to Sisheng Peak and spy on the
Constellation Saint with the rest of the girls.”

The other well-known rumor of the cultivation world struck many in the crowd as rather humorous,
but only the brave glanced at Chu Wanning as the stranger spoke. His face was as dark as a
thundercloud, and no one let their gaze linger. The stranger walked around the bride and groom,
clapping his hands with a sudden smile.

“I just remembered,” he said. “When Lord Ye smacked Miss Song, she had a Shrine Sand placed
on her wrist by the Cold Scale Sacred Hand. If she is truly pure and clean, her wrist must have
some cinnabar sand left on it.” He paused and smiled at the pale-faced Song Qiutong as she
trembled like a leaf. “Why don’t you show us, Miss Song?”

Song Qiutong’s face was as pale as paper, even her lips white with fear. Nangong Si’s heart
dropped as he saw her clutching her sleeve and tearfully shaking her head. “What’s wrong?” he
asked, and then his face paled as well. “No,” he whispered.

“What? You don’t dare?” said the stranger with a scornful laugh.

“No, please, let me go,” Song Qiutong whispered. “Please let me go.” She clutched her sleeve,
knowing that the gesture confirmed what the stranger said and yet unable to stop. She knew she
was unmarked, unmarried, and a virgin, but the lack of cinnabar was damning. There was no way
to wash away her shame.

again the author spends a great deal of time describing the a woman being terrified and
humiliated

“The sand on Miss Song’s wrist was intact a few days ago,” said a cold and harsh voice. Chu
Wanning stood tall, glaring at the stranger.

His aggressive expression faded into speechlessness as the masked stranger whose expression
couldn’t be seen turned to face Chu Wanning. He sighed after a long moment, and the crowd began
to wonder if they hadn’t misheard the rumors. They started chattering quietly, whispering that they
hadn’t meant that Song Qiutong had been having an affair for long, but just within the past few
days.

“This is ridiculous,” Ye Wangxi muttered.

“Words are no proof,” said Chu Wanning, cold and dignified. “Allow me to interrogate you.”
Golden light flashed in his hands as his holy weapon appeared.

The stranger dodged the willow vine just in time. “Grandmaster Chu,” he said. “What do you think
you’re doing?” The stranger was extremely agile, darting from side to side to avoid the whip, but
he made no move to counter it or retaliate. The atmosphere suddenly shifted from tension to
comedy, as the constant dodging began to take on the aspects of a farce. “Don’t hit me, I’m not
done talking yet.”

“If you want to complain, take off your mask,” Chu Wanning said contemptuously.

“Yeah, fine, but not right now.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not pretty enough,” the stranger said. “I don’t want my face to scare people under all these
bright lights.”

The longer the stranger ran, the fiercer and more skilled Chu Wanning’s assault became. He
dodged behind a pillar. “Ye Wangxi!” he shouted. “I thought you were honorable! I’ll expose your
true face! You bought a pair of female cultivators and forced Song Qiutong to serve you! You
disregarded others and bullied the lord’s wife! You have a human’s face but a beast’s heart!”

Furious, Ye Wangxi shouted back. “Shut up!”

“Am I wrong?” the stranger sneered. “Don’t you know how the sand disappeared? She knelt in
front of you and said she was Nangong’s unmarried wife! She begged you to let her go! But you
refused to listen!”

Ye Wangxi’s face paled as he gritted his teeth. “And what did I say to her?”
“Have you forgotten?” taunted the stranger. “You said, Miss Song, I spent so much money. Now
that you have the favor of young master Nangong, you will not leave here unscathed.” He laughed
out loud as he spoke, and Ye Wangxi had no answer.

------

The tide of public opinion rapidly turned against Ye Wangxi, sympathy for Nangong Si and shock
that he didn’t appear angry gaining more and more traction. Song Qiutong received her share of
pity as well, backed into a corner. The willow vine wrapped around Ye Wangxi.

“Miss Song did not dare admit to what happened, Lord Ye. She was afraid she would hurt your
relationship with Nangong Si. Do you not have the slightest bit of shame?”

Furious, Ye Wangxi tossed his head. “What crime have I committed?”

“Are you still blaming Song Qiutong? Even though she didn’t resist, you still coerced her.”

Nangong Si turned quietly, reaching out to Song Qiutong. She flinched, assuming he was searching
for the cinnabar mark. She had panicked upon finding it gone without explanation, and had
resolved to simply hide her wrist until her marriage – the mark would disappear then. She hadn’t
anticipated having her dirty laundry aired in public.

Still, Song Qiutong was more disturbed by the fact that the stranger knew of the red mole on her
thigh and that she had been saved by Ye Wangxi once. She lowered her face, trying to hide from
the crowd staring at her with disdain and pity, as the stranger continued to flee from Chu
Wanning’s willow vine. The crowd pointed and whispered, no matter what she did.

“Ye Wangxi!” shouted the stranger. “I will expose you, you hypocrite!”

Seeing no other way out, Song Qiutong buried her face in her hands. “It was Ye Wangxi!” she
sobbed, choosing her own reputation above Ye Wangxi’s good name. “He forced me.”

Nangong Si stared at her, eyes dark. He dropped his hand, turning away from his bride-to-be. “Do
you know what you’re saying?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Song Qiutong cried. “I was afraid you would reject me, and I was afraid that I would
set the two of you against each other. Lord Ye is so highly valued by the sect leader. I didn’t want
to ruin that.” Her sleeves fell gracefully to the ground as she leaned forward, trembling, the very
picture of misery. “I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered, the sound nevertheless carrying to
every corner of the hall. “I know we aren’t perfect, but I truly love you.”

Nangong Si only shook his head, backing away. “Do you know,” he repeated, “what you’re
saying?”

In the dim light, Song Qiutong’s hair glimmered like silk over her shoulders. She wept, shoulders
shaking. “I shouldn’t have hidden it from you.”

“I asked you a question!” Nangong Si shouted.

Finally realizing she had miscalculated, Song Qiutong raised her head. “I,” she said, beautiful face
ashen.

“You would actually dare to say such a thing?” Nangong Si hissed, and the crowd started
muttering in confusion.
Many of the guests speculated that they had heard rumors of how Rufeng Sect exonerated men and
cared little for women, and perhaps that was the reason Nangong Si blamed Song Qiutong for her
own defilement. Their opinion began to turn against Nangong Si as well. Chu Wanning, upon
hearing Song Qiutong’s confession, pulled back his holy weapon. He was at a loss as to how to
proceed; Nangong Si was, for all his faults, a righteous man who should have pursued an
investigation of the claims against Ye Wangxi, he felt.

Only Mei Hanxue of all the guests remained seated and apparently carefree. He drank his wine and
watched the proceedings, the difference in his demeanor unnoticed by all. Only Xue Meng would
have noticed that he resembled the self he had been at Peach Blossom Spring, romantic and
alluring.

Still weeping, Song Qiutong continued to implicate Ye Wangxi, and he stared at her, shocked. He
would never have guessed that the pitiful girl he’d rescued from the auction would betray him so
thoroughly. On the other side of the room, Nangong Si closed his eyes, trembling, gritting his teeth
in an attempt to control his temper, but it was in vain. He lost control, leaping to his feet with a
curse.

Lashing out with his blade, Nangong Si cleaved the table before Song Qiutong in two. “Song
Qiutong,” he shouted. “I hate liars most of all!” He looked over his shoulder. “Ye Wangxi!”

“Young master,” Ye Wangxi said cautiously.

“Get over here!” Nangong Si pointed at the floor in front of his feet.

With visible reluctance, Ye Wangxi approached. The crowd anticipated blood, Nangong Si’s blade
driven to the hilt into Ye Wangxi’s chest. They stared at the scene with bated breath.

“Remove the voice changing technique,” Nangong Si snarled.

The crowd was silent for a moment before breaking out into yet another excited buzz. This time it
was muted, as they asked each other what a sound-changing spell could possibly have to do with
the situation at hand. Had his original voice been terrifying, they wondered, or shameful. The
babble quieted as Ye Wangxi replied.

“I can’t, my lord.” Ye Wangxi hastened to explain as Nangong Si opened his mouth to bellow
furiously. “I’ve been using the technique for over ten years, since I was thirteen. It has penetrated
deep into my spiritual core and I cannot return to my original voice.”

Stepping back in shock, Nangong Si looked pleadingly at his father. Nangong Liu hesitated for a
moment. “Si,” he said, “Ye Wangxi is correct. However.” He paused, walking down from the dais
to stand with his hands clasped behind his back. “I am aware that you are friendly with Ye
Wangxi, and grateful for his service, but adultery is a capital offense.”

“Father!” Nangong Si protested, starting forward.

Blue light flashed from Nangong Liu’s lifted hand, enveloping Nangong Si in another binding
enchantment. It was a technique passed down to each sect leader, used to bind the heir and only the
heir to prevent promotion by assassination. Even Nangong Si’s words were silenced by the spell.
Nangong Liu glanced at Ye Wangxi and then visibly dismissed him to approach the masked
stranger.

“I do not know what grudge you hold,” he said with a respectful cupped-hand greeting. “It is
fortunate that you have chosen to air it today, preventing ill luck from befalling us. “
“You are as courteous as your reputation, Sect Leader Nangong,” said the stranger.

“Arrest Ye Wangxi,” Nangong Liu started, only to be interrupted from an unexpected source.

“Wait,” said the stranger.

Uneasy, Nangong Liu maintained his impassive smile. “Sir, do you have further revelations?”

“Is there a reason you’re so anxious to imprison Lord Ye?” the stranger asked softly.

“Although I thank you for bringing attention to this matter, it is now a sect affair,” Nangong Liu
said repressively.

“Sect Leader,” said the stranger, “The pitiful Ye Wangxi has spent years risking life and limb for
your sect. How wasteful, to throw such a faithful adherent away without even questioning what
secrets might be festering in that loyal heart.”

Nangong Liu’s expression turned sallow, blood draining from his face. Behind him, Mei Hanxue
smiled into his cup of wine, and Nangong Liu stammered out his next word with obvious
unwillingness. “Secrets?”

“As you know,” said the masked stranger. “Ye Wangxi isn’t a man at all.”

------

At the news that Ye Wangxi was not, in fact, a man, the crowd burst into an uproar. All attention
immediately focused on the person in question, who lowered her head without a word and closed
her eyes. The guests couldn’t believe that the handsome and virtuous man was a woman and had
been lying about her gender for years. Their rapidly shifting opinion immediately turned against
Song Qiutong, concluding that she had framed Ye Wangxi for her own safety and speculating that
not blaming Ye Wangxi meant that Nangong Si must have known her secret.

Still facing the stranger, Nangong Liu’s face went cold. “Sir, you spout nonsense,” he said.
“Where did you get this information?”

In the background, Nangong Si once again asked Ye Wangxi to remove the voice changing spell.
The stranger glanced at him and then back to Rufeng Sect’s leader. “Release Nangong Si,” he said.
“He has a wild temper, but he is a righteous man. Unlike you.” He paused, but Nangong Liu only
continued to glare. “Release him,” said the stranger again.

“I will not allow an outsider to interfere into my son’s lack of filial piety,” snapped Nangong Liu.

The crowd began to waver; the sect leader was so steadfast in his refusal to admit the truth of the
stranger’s claims that they began to look at Ye Wangxi’s handsome face to see if she was indeed
female. An unexpected voice called out from the back of the crowd. “Sect Leader Nangong, you
are in the wrong.”

Mei Hanxue, graceful and dignified, stood up. “Although Miss Ye is valiant and imposing, she is a
woman. As a man, Sect Leader, you should have mercy on the fairer sex. Bullying Miss Ye just to
save face demonstrates a lack of chivalry.” He smiled at Ye Wangxi. “I became acquainted with
Miss Ye at Peach Blossom Springs several years ago, and was very impressed with her. Although I
accidentally offended her with my ill-chosen words, she still demonstrated great strength of
character. She praised her sect leader, and Rufeng Sect. But today, seeing the actions of her
esteemed sect leader, I feel that her faith was perhaps misplaced.”
“Honored cultivator Mei,” said Nangong Liu, expression dark. “You have met Ye Wangxi but a
single time. You may be forgiven for your errors, considering you are from Taxue Palace and not
well acquainted with our sect. I will thank you to not interfere in our affairs.”

Despite his polite words, Nangong Liu’s tone wasn’t as composed as it had been. The stranger
gave him a look before turning politely to Mei Hanxue. “Young master Mei, your name is well-
known. If you were unable to discern her gender, no one in the world could have done so.”

“Sir,” Nangong Liu said stiffly, trying to regain control of the situation. “First you accuse Ye
Wangxi of bullying Song Qiutong, then you accuse him of being a woman. You have slandered our
sect!”

“Ah, but how else were you to see Song Qiutong’s true personality?” said the stranger. “I would
not have your esteemed son marry the wrong person.”

“Then how,” Nangong Liu hissed, “did the cinnabar mark on her wrist disappear?”

The stranger laughed coldly. “Your sect has thousands of male disciples. Feel free to interrogate
them until you discover the culprit.”

The tide of public opinion was starting to turn against Nangong Liu, evident in the faces of the
guests although no one said a word. He beckoned to Ye Wangxi, demanding his cultivator
approach. “Was Song Qiutong lying?” he asked, staring hard. Knowing Ye Wangxi deeply loved
Nangong Si and Rufeng Sect, the sect leader assumed the cultivator would say nothing to damage
the sect’s reputation. “Tell everyone,” he ordered. “Tell them who you are.”

Always very obedient, Ye Wangxi had been one of Nangong Liu’s most reliable assets since the
age of thirteen. He had summoned her to him at that age, when her foster father had been too
severely injured to continue acting as the head of the shadow guard. As she had been Nangong Si’s
childhood sweetheart, as well as the shadow guard leader’s adopted daughter, she was the only
person, he had said, that he could trust.

Well aware of political machinations, Ye Wangxi had remained kneeling. “Your talent is
extraordinary,” Nangong Liu had told her. “You will take your foster father’s place as the head of
the shadow guard. You will be my son’s right-hand man. You may refuse, and I will select another
candidate. I would not wish to place an undue burden upon you.”

Ye Wangxi had shifted position, remaining silent, and Nangong Liu had waited patiently. He had
been sure of her cooperation, as she had had no family to speak of. Finally, she lifted her head to
look him steadily in the eye.

“I owe my life to my foster father,” Ye Wangxi had said. “I would do anything to repay him.”

“There is another matter,” Nangong Liu had said. “Women are seen as inferior to men, in Rufeng
Sect. You must take the appropriate measures in order to convince the elders and disciples that you
are fit to lead the shadow guard.”

Without a word, Ye Wangxi had removed her jewelry and feminine hair ornaments. She had
removed her decorative jacket, tying her hair in a masculine style. She had lifted her chin, sitting
like a boy with resolution in her face.

“Excellent,” Nangong Liu had purred. He had further instructed her in how to alter her voice, and
she had obeyed his instructions without reservation. The blood from her neck upon the golden
scissors demanded by the spell had stained the floor, but she hadn’t flinched. She had spent the
next ten years taking up her foster father’s duties and learned to act as a man. She had taken
medications in secret to help foster the illusion, bearing the pain until the illusion was complete.

Nangong Liu knew Ye Wangxi to have been given a great gift, for which she would repay him
with gratitude and loyalty. He had seen her cut her own throat and bleed to change her voice, suffer
in silence to hide the gender assigned at birth. He knew she wouldn’t admit to her femininity, and
in the face of her refusal, the disbelief of the guests would mean nothing.

The stranger was able to read Nangong Liu’s expression, and he stalked forward to stand in front of
Ye Wangxi. “Nangong Liu,” he said over his shoulder. “Miss Ye has already sacrificed so much
for you, and you want her to keep denying herself?”

Red light exploded in the sky as Nangong Liu opened his mouth to reply, indicating another spirit
deer had been caught. The guests paid no attention to the flare in the sky, distracted by the far more
fascinating spectacle playing out in front of them. Nangong Si, still trapped in his father’s barrier,
stood next to where his erstwhile bride knelt on the ground. The guests knew they would be talking
about this night for years to come, regardless of how it played out.

Eyes on the sect leader’s drama, no one saw a dark red crack in the sky above the dense forest until
the rapid crack of fireworks caught their attention. It was only then that the attention of guests and
hosts alike turned to the sky and saw that the Heavenly Rift had opened above the hunting grounds
– right in the heart of the upper cultivation world.

Milling around in a panic, the crowd threatened to become unruly. Nangong Liu amplified his
voice, calling for calm. “My lords, the crack in the sky is but an opening to the ghost realm. You
are protected by Rufeng Sect. No harm will befall you here.” He summoned his sword and stepped
onto its resplendent blue hilt, the night wind blowing behind him. “Guards of the five branches!”
he ordered. “Follow me to the forest to investigate! The rest of you, guard the hall and our honored
guests!”

Uncharacteristically sallying forth to investigate the rift, Nangong Liu left the masked stranger
behind. The crowd was not reassured by his words, worried that a rift had opened outside the lower
cultivation realm. The overwhelming response was fear, rather than courage, that the rift would
produce an unending stream of fiends and demons. Chu Wanning’s death loomed large in the
memories of all present, and if a rift had killed him, no one was safe.

“Sect Leader,” Chu Wanning said to Xue Zhengyong in a low voice. “The rift is the wrong color.
It most likely opens up into the upper levels. I’ll check on Xue Meng and the others.”

As the astonished crowd watched, Chu Wanning vaulted over the railing and vanished toward the
dense forest. Xue Zhengyong called after him, but he was already gone. He made as if to follow,
but an iron grip caught his shoulder. The stranger tugged him back, speaking quietly.

“Uncle Xue,” he said, “stay with Aunt Wang. I’ll go assist my teacher.”

oh, what the actual fuck is this shit

“Mo Ran?” Xue Zhengyong hissed, shocked.

The stranger placed a finger on his lips, shaking his head, and then disappeared into the darkness.
He followed the same path as Chu Wanning. Lightness kung fu gave Mo Ran’s feet speed as he
darted toward the forest, finally catching up to his teacher. He pushed the bronze mask onto his
forehead. “Sir,” he said.
“It was you?” Chu Wanning was, for once, surprised.

“Running is too slow,” Mo Ran said. “We should ride my sword to the hunting grounds.” He
summoned his blade, lifting Chu Wanning up in front of him. “Hold tight, sir,” he said, breath hot
on Chu Wanning’s neck.

“You planned all of this?” Chu Wanning asked as they flew.

“I’ve heard a lot about Song Qiutong during my travels,” Mo Ran said. “She doesn’t have the
courage to confront anyone face to face, but she’s duplicitous and deceitful. She’d make Nangong
Si miserable.”

“He’s going to be miserable anyway,” Chu Wanning said, looking at the rift. He glanced over his
shoulder. “Which reminds me, how did you know Ye Wangxi was a woman?”

------

“You should know, sir, I knew when we met her at Peach Blossom Spring.” Technically, Mo Ran
had known since his previous life, but that wasn’t an explanation he could give to Chu Wanning. “I
heard Mei Hanxue and the others from Taxue Palace talking, and I put two and two together.” He
paused. “Did you notice she wears her collar up very high? It’s a strange style.”

“I didn’t notice,” Chu Wanning said ruefully.

Mo Ran gestured at Chu Wanning’s throat. “She was hiding the lack of an Adam’s apple,” he said,
fingers brushing across the delicate area. It was so vulnerable, and he was lost in the desire to
possess it. He failed to pay attention to their route, and the heavy sword collided with a towering
tree.

Branches cracked and snapped as the two cultivators spun out of control. Chu Wanning retained
enough composure to furiously and silently curse his student’s arrogance all the way to the ground,
landing on top of Mo Ran. He raised himself up on one arm to check his student for injury, only to
see Mo Ran grinning up at him. “What are you laughing at?” he snapped.

Instead of responding appropriately, Mo Ran wrapped his arms around Chu Wanning in an
embrace. He lifted a hand to stroke Chu Wanning’s hair. “Sir,” he said, smiling wider, and ruffled
the silky hair under his hand. His voice was dark with passion, and Chu Wanning froze.

“How competent you are at traveling by sword,” Chu Wanning sniped to cover his lapse in dignity.

With a soft sigh, Mo Ran caressed Chu Wanning’s hair. “It was my fault, sir,” he said. “Please get
off me.” He wanted to tell Chu Wanning to stay there as long as he liked, but he couldn’t say it out
loud.

Expression stormy, Chu Wanning rose to his feet and helped Mo Ran up. “Are you injured?” he
asked sullenly.

“I’m fine,” Mo Ran said.

About to give a sharp retort, Chu Wanning saw a withered flower in Mo Ran’s hair. He glared.
“Your head,” he said instead.

“Am I hurt?” Mo Ran raised a hand to touch his head, finding the flower.

“You’ve blossomed,” Chu Wanning said flatly, and Mo Ran blushed. “We should keep going,” he
said abruptly. “Not on your sword. We’ll use lightness kung fu.”

With regret, Mo Ran replaced his heavy sword in his pouch. The two cultivators pressed on, but the
deeper they penetrated into the forest, the thicker the trees became. Regardless of how skilled they
were, they weren’t as quick as they had been traveling on the sword. A cool breeze blew through
the trees, calming Chu Wanning’s anxiety, but something else occurred to him.

“How did you know there was a mole on Song Qiutong’s leg?” Taken aback, Mo Ran was
distracted enough to crash into a tree for the second time. “Are you blind?” Chu Wanning snapped.

“No, I’m just distracted,” Mo Ran said, climbing to his feet.

“By Song Qiutong’s mole?” Chu Wanning asked acidly. “Cultivators must be pure of heart and
lack desire. You defile yourself by ogling others.”

Mo Ranning could find no fault with his teacher’s words, but the person he wanted to ogle wasn’t
Song Qiutong. He wanted a man with a leopard-fierce temper. He sighed. “Sir, I’m not interested in
Song Qiutong. I heard about the mole from the staff at the auction house when she was bought. I
haven’t seen it with my own eyes, sir, please don’t be angry with me.”

“Why would I be angry?” Chu Wanning snapped. “Then answer me this. If Ye Wangxi is a
woman, where did the cinnabar on Song Qiutong’s wrist go?”

“Sir, do you remember the bracelet I gave her?” Mo Ran asked. “There was a spell on it to remove
the cinnabar.”

Still feeling as though Mo Ran was hiding something, Chu Wanning simply looked at his student.
Ensuring justice was served was one thing, but creating such a conflict to prevent Song Qiutong
from marrying into Rufeng Sect seemed excessive. He didn’t see why, unless Mo Ran had a
grudge against Song Qiutong or a relationship with Ye Wangxi, and Chu Wanning knew that
neither could be true.

Sensing his teacher’s reservations, Mo Ran approached him. “Sir,” he said.

“What,” Chu Wanning grated out indifferently.

Wanting to tell Chu Wanning the truth without revealing his previous life, Mo Ran hesitated. “Sir,
Ye Wangxi is a good person,” he said finally. “She spent a lot of money at Xuanyuan Pavilion to
save someone she didn’t know.” At Chu Wanning’s fractional nod, Mo Ran continued. “Sir, I can
tell that Ye Wangxi really likes Nangong Si.”

“That much is obvious,” Chu Wanning said.

“I’m glad you agree, sir.” Mo Ran kept running. “As I knew of Ye Wangxi’s secret identity, I
understood how she felt. Nangong Si has always been respectful of her, without ill intent, but if
Song Qiutong married him, how do you think she would view another woman in love with her
husband? She would view Ye Wangxi as a threat to be removed.”

Mo Ran paused, thinking of his previous life. Song Qiutong had been jealous of Chu Wanning,
hating him wholeheartedly. She had known that Mo Ran was in love with Chu Wanning, he
realized, long before Mo Ran himself had known. She had punished him while he was helpless and
then refused to take responsibility for her actions.

Mo Ran knew that the world was evil at its heart, that it didn’t care whether or not people did good
deeds. He knew that the kindhearted would die first, and that even if one murdered the vicious,
thousands more would rise to take their place. And yet, he still felt that he owed Ye Wangxi a life.
Regardless of consequence, he still had to repay his debt.

“You’re not involved in this,” Chu Wanning reminded him.

“I know the truth,” Mo Ran said. “That makes me involved. I’m doing it for my own peace of
mind.”

Still believing that Mo Ran had acted rashly, Chu Wanning accepted that his student had also acted
reasonably. A sweet smell arose on the wind as he opened his mouth to reply, spreading the taste of
qi over his tongue. Chu Wanning snapped his mouth shut, repulsed by the sensation, and saw the
blood drain from Mo Ran’s face.

“Zhenlong Chess Formation,” Mo Ran snapped. “Over there.”

A fishy odor began to permeate the air, and Mo Ran saw ghosts crawling out of the crack in the
sky. Five pillars of light shot up from the ground – metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. It resembled
Butterfly Town precisely, and Chu Wanning’s face hardened. “It’s him,” he said.

The five years of peace were over – the puppet master behind Jincheng Lake, Peach Blossom
Spring, and Butterfly Town had returned. Mo Ran hesitated, feeling that something was wrong,
and then he had it. No attempt had been made to conceal the technique – the puppet master was
acting openly, as if he had nothing to hide and was close to victory.

Mo Ran sprinted forward, muttering about the barrier to the infinite hells – it was just like it had
been five years ago, when Chu Wanning had died. He grabbed Chu Wanning’s wrist. “Sir, stay
away,” he said urgently.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chu Wanning retorted.

Having seen the heavenly rift multiple times over the course of both of his lifetimes, Mo Ran knew
it could only end in disaster. And yet he also knew he couldn’t stop Chu Wanning from racing
toward catastrophe to help in any way he could. He stared helplessly at his teacher, mouth hanging
open.

“I’ll be cautious,” Chu Wanning said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.” He summoned Heavenly
Questions, golden light coalescing in his hand.

Holding his teacher’s gaze for a long moment, Mo Ran sighed. He summoned What The Hell, its
red light flickering to life around him. The two weapons collided, meeting after a long time apart.
“I understand,” Mo Ran said. “Please take the lead, sir.”

At the sight of Mo Ran’s unquestioning devotion, something warm spread through Chu Wanning’s
chest. There were too many emotions flashing across Mo Ran’s face to decipher, too many to be
contained in the teacher-student relationship, but Chu Wanning wasn’t sure how to reclassify what
they meant to each other. He poked Mo Ran’s forehead. “There’s no reward for obedience,” he
said.

Briefly stunned, Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning’s hand down. He resisted the urge to kiss it. “Let’s
go, sir,” he said.

The mixed red and gold light penetrated deep into the heart of the forest, Ganquan Lake. Chu
Wanning and Mo Ran hid in the orange grove, searching for the disruption. The flow of qi to the
lake had been cut off, and it surface was already beginning to freeze over. Four arrays had been
drawn around the lake, a weapon embedded in each one.
“Four holy weapons?” Chu Wanning asked. “With different attributes?”

Stunned at first, Mo Ran felt vindicated that he’d been right. “The theft of several holy weapons
over the last five years was related to the puppet master,” he snarled, but something else occurred
to him. “Back in Butterfly Town, he was using the heart of a living person. Why change his
tactics?”

“Quiet,” Chu Wanning said. “Look there.”

A group of Rufeng Sect’s guards were walking across the surface of the lake, including the young
cultivators chosen to hunt the spiritual deer. They were losing steady streams of qi, converging
toward the arrays. Each array fueled the crack in the sky, widening the opening to the infernal hell.

“They’re being controlled by the Zhenlong Chess Formation,” Chu Wanning said, stating the
obvious, and then his face paled. He gripped Mo Ran’s shoulder, hand trembling.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Ran asked.

“Look,” Chu Wanning hissed, pointing out a familiar figure among the crowd of controlled
cultivators. “It’s Xue Meng.”

------

Every youth chasing deer in the forest had had a Zhenlong chess piece embedded in their body,
transforming them into puppets unafraid of pain or death. The puppets defended the arrays against
the onslaught of fiends, but paid no attention to those who escaped into the darkness – Chu
Wanning saw immediately that they were to protect the Five Elements Formation.

“Wait,” Mo Ran said, laying a hand on his wrist just before Chu Wanning could rush forward to
rescue Xue Meng.

“That’s Xue Meng!” Chu Wanning hissed, pulling his wrist free. Mo Ran was quick enough to
grab him around the waist instead, going so far as to cover Chu Wanning’s mouth with one hand to
prevent him from making noise.

“Don’t be so rash,” Mo Ran hissed, breath hot on Chu Wanning’s neck.

Chu Wanning kicked him, distracting Mo Ran enough that he could pull the hand off his mouth.
“His spiritual force is being drained,” he said. “This place is full of evil spirits. They’re going to
kill him!”

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” Mo Ran said. “I know how this technique is used. Trust me.”

Seeing Mo Ran’s determination, Chu Wanning felt oddly reassured. He opened his mouth to tell
Mo Ran to let him go, but was interrupted by a howling ghost. It headed straight for Xue Meng,
who sliced it skillfully in twain with the sword Longcheng. The ghost tumbled away, mortally
wounded.

“A living person under the control of the Zhenlong Chess Formation gradually loses their qi,
reducing them to normal mortal strength,” Mo Ran said absently, peering at his fellow disciple.
“But he’s only been under control for a short while, so we have some time.”

“How do you know so much about it?” Chu Wanning asked suspiciously.

“I learned a lot while traveling,” Mo Ran said, after a pause that was just a little too long to be
natural.

In the field, Xue Meng held his dripping sword. His face was cold, no light in his eyes, and Mo
Ran felt his heart contract. He hadn’t seen his cousin subjected to the Zhenlong Chess Formation in
his previous life, and it was unexpectedly painful. He was distracted by a distant commotion, and
leaned in closer to Chu Wanning.

“Someone’s coming,” he said.

Two people walked along the frozen lake toward the center of the formation, one of them holding
what Mo Ran thought was a holy weapon. He couldn’t see clearly what the weapon was, but he
could see the man strike the icy lake and strike the center of the formation. It lit up with brilliant
light, dispersing the clouds and revealing the moon. Mo Ran could see both individuals clearly the
first time.

One man was dressed in golden silk, face hidden by a heavy veil. The other was barefoot on the
ice; Mo Ran was shocked to recognize his face when the man raised his head to stare at the rift.
“Xu Shuanglin,” he murmured, unable to process the unexpected information. Xu Shuanglin had
sacrificed himself to protect Ye Wangxi in Mo Ran’s previous life; Mo Ran couldn’t believe that
he would be involved with the puppet master.

Unaware of the turmoil in Mo Ran’s heart, Chu Wanning gripped his shoulder. “Go,” he said
quietly, but the pair in the center of the array were speaking.

“Where is he?” said the masked man, and Mo Ran recognized Nangong Liu’s voice. He sounded
anxious. “Were you mistaken?”

“Just wait,” Xu Shuanglin said calmly.

“Faster,” Nangong Liu said. “We need to hurry, before the guests send someone to investigate.”

“If we rush too much and tear the rift open too far, it’ll be Butterfly Town all over again,” Xu
Shuanglin said. “The ten sects arrived because they got impatient.” He paused at Nangong Liu’s
ostentatiously impatient sigh. “Sect Leader, it wasn’t easy to find five holy weapons with different
attributes to absorb the accumulated qi. It’s been years. One short night will make no difference.”

“You’re right,” Nangong Liu said, taking a deep breath. “It’s been five years – no, since I became
head of Rufeng Sect.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been waiting so long.”

“Your wait is almost over,” Xu Shuanglin said soothingly. He moved slightly, and Mo Ran could
see that they were protecting the wood element of the formation.

A stern voice echoed through the empty sky, sharp as a bolt of lightning. A slender man stood atop
a tree, white robes billowing. “Nangong Liu,” he said. “Stop right there.”

“Chu Wanning!” gasped Nangong Liu, shading his eyes against the golden light limning Chu
Wanning’s silhouette. “You should have died at Butterfly Town!”

“So you were responsible for the disaster,” Chu Wanning said, eyebrows drawing closer together.

“So what if I am?” Nangong Liu said with a cold laugh.

Heavenly Questions came up, golden light glittering along its length inch by inch, as Chu Wanning
glared like a hawk. “When you received a holy weapon,” Chu Wanning said, “your quest was to
cut out your wife’s heart and throw it in the lake. You said afterwards that you were full of
remorse, that you’d been controlled. I begin to think you were lying.”

“Are you blaming me for doing what I had to do?” Nangong Liu laughed again. “Grandmaster
Chu, you yourself were young and immature. Only fifteen? Or was it sixteen? You were naïve
enough to let me go, when I pretended to cry. What I am today is in part thanks to you.”

His voice had barely faded when Chu Wanning lost his temper, releasing the technique Wind.
Heavenly Questions headed straight for Rufeng Sect’s leader, shattering the surface of the frozen
lake. Flames poured from the heavens, and Nangong Liu staggered backwards.

“Everyone rise!” he shouted.

The puppets rushed Chu Wanning, with Xue Meng leading the charge. Longcheng clashed against
Heavenly Questions, but Chu Wanning couldn’t risk injuring his disciple. He retreated, snarling at
Nangong Liu. “Your choice of betrothal gift for your son leaves much to be desired.”

“Taking over these living people is my particular skill,” Nangong Liu crowed, still laughing. “Is
this one your disciple? No wonder you’re so ineffective. All you can do now is let me go.” Despite
the apparent hopelessness, Chu Wanning stared at him calmly, and Nangong Liu’s smile froze into
uneasiness.

Chu Wanning raised Heavenly Questions slowly. “Heavenly Questions,” he hissed. “Ten thousand
coffins!”

Dozens of golden vines rose from the ground, whipping around to trap the puppets one by one. The
thickest vine rose from the waves, lifting Chu Wanning into the air. “Nine Songs,” he intoned. “I
summon thee.”

A jet-black zither coalesced around his knees, tail twisting and turning into the shape of a living
tree with luxuriant crabapple blossoms. Chu Wanning ran his fingers delicately along its ice-clear
strings, the melody of his signature attack rippling out. Ode, a technique to clear the heart and heal
the body, washed over the disciples struck by the Zhenlong Chess Formation as they struggled
against the confining vines.

The trapped cultivators stilled, looking left and right in confusion, and Nangong Liu began
chanting in a fury. His spell had no effect, and he glared at his partner. “Shuanglin, stop that zither
music,” he hissed.

“I have to do everything,” Shuanglin sighed. He made as if to approach the tree, but his path was
blocked by a black shadow holding a crimson willow vine.

“Elder Shuanglin,” said Mo Ran respectfully. “Please advise.”

“Truly touching to see master and disciple working together so well,” Elder Shuanglin said with a
laugh.

“Barrier!” Chu Wanning called.

“It’s up,” Mo Ran returned, having completed the barrier around the lake. Despite the smaller size
of the rift, enough ghosts had still escaped to wreak havoc if they weren’t contained. “Elder
Shuanglin,” he said, effortlessly parrying the other’s strikes, “don’t try to interrupt my teacher. I’m
your opponent.”

“What is this, a tournament?” Shuanglin laughed in his face. “Are you sure I’m a good match for
you? I’m so old I might shatter under your lack of manners.” He grinned. “Your teacher is a much
better choice for me.”

Knowing from his previous life that Xu Shuanglin had died a heroic death, thereby establishing
himself as a good person, Mo Ran couldn’t parse his current villainous actions. He remained silent,
focusing on blocking his immediate path in favor of trying to see any sort of larger picture. Xu
Shuanglin was light on his feet, floating gracefully above the chunks of shattered ice, and Mo Ran
couldn’t pin him down. He was further hindered by knowing that Xu Shuanglin was Ye Wangxi’s
foster father, and it slowed his hand.

“Grandmaster Mo,” Xu Shuanglin said suddenly. “Let me apologize.”

“What?” Mo Ran said, startled.

“I’m going to injure your teacher,” Xu Shuanglin said, raising his hand. A streak of white light
flashed toward Chu Wanning, still playing the zither. Mo Ran’s eyes tracked it, losing track of Xu
Shuanglin’s movements. His opponent’s other hand darted to the folding fan at his waist, pulling it
free and slicing towards Mo Ran’s throat in a single gesture.

Blood spattered, Mo Ran failing to move completely out of the way despite his quick dodge. Xu
Shuanglin pulled back, a drop of Mo Ran’s blood falling from the sharp fan blade into the lake.
The extremely rich qi, aligned with the wood element, reacted with the holy weapon at the
formation’s center, and it erupted in jade-green brilliance.

The earth trembled, a black blade breaking out of the water. “The forbidden spell has been cast!”
Xu Shuanglin shouted. “He’s almost here! Fight him!”

Mo Ran hesitated again at the unexpected instructions, wondering briefly if the two conspirators
had called someone up from the underworld just to fight, but the sight of the weapon rising from
the waters dashed the thought from his head. The sword before him was none other than the Evil
Overlord’s vicious blade –the holy weapon No Return. Dull pain erupted in Mo Ran’s chest and
his vision shrank to a narrow tunnel. Static roared in his ears, and he couldn’t breathe.

The blood of Mo Ran’s previous life rushed toward him, soaking him in dizzy disgust. Mo Ran’s
heart sped up, and he knew he couldn’t let Xu Shuanglin get his hands on the blade. He raised his
hand to summon it, but Chu Wanning’s zither stopped as soon as Mo Ran’s qi was released. He
froze, suddenly remembering how fragile Chu Wanning’s spiritual core was, and how poorly he
had reacted when exposed to even the slightest amount of No Return’s qi.

Cutting off the flow of his summoning technique, Mo Ran darted toward Chu Wanning. He leapt
onto the huge vine, catching his pale-faced teacher just as he started to tumble down and taking
them both to the ground in the orange grove. Chu Wanning’s Ten Thousand Coffins technique fell
apart as their feet touched the ground, but the released cultivators only milled about in dazed
surprise.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said, kneeling beside Chu Wanning. Blood seeped from the corner of his teacher’s
mouth, and Mo Ran had sudden visions of his previous life. He frantically scrubbed at the blood,
but it wouldn’t come clean no matter what he did. His heart contracted.

Chu Wanning felt as if the aura of death had come for him, burrowing into his chest as if it would
break it open. Images twisted and flickered in front of his eyes, and he shook his head to get rid of
them. Catching sight of Nangong Liu, he summoned the strength to grab Mo Ran’s arm. “Look
out!”

Caught by surprise, Mo Ran turned to see surging hellfire pouring out of the heavenly rift. The
ghosts in its range were burnt to ash as the red-gold waterfall slowly flowed outwards. It hit the
lake, setting the water ablaze. The two conspirators evaded it with water-type incantations, but Mo
Ran could see it approaching the confused victims of the Zhenlong Chess Formation. He cursed
silently, forming a seal with his hands to protect them.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Chu Wanning said before Mo Ran could get more than halfway through
it. “Allow me.”

Helping him sit up, Mo Ran put his hand over Chu Wanning’s. “You don’t have the strength.
Teach me instead.”

Protest as much as he would, Chu Wanning knew he didn’t have the qi to complete the spell. He
positioned Mo Ran’s fingers correctly. “There,” he said. “Cast it.”

Qi flowed through the air, forming a blue barrier around the former puppets, and Chu Wanning
sighed in relief. He lifted his eyes to Mo Ran’s face, surprised to see tears flowing down his
student’s cheeks. There was no reason for it, he thought, no one Mo Ran loved had been injured.

“Don’t cry,” he said.

“Does it hurt?” Mo Ran asked, scrubbing his cheeks clean and focusing his eyes on Chu Wanning.

Warmth spread across him, intertwining grief and tenderness, as Chu Wanning realized that Mo
Ran was crying for him. It was the first time Chu Wanning could remember ever seeing someone
cry for him. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just a small strain, from summoning both weapons
simultaneously.” He reached up to stroke Mo Ran’s hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” He looked
over Mo Ran’s shoulder to see the hellfire continuing to spread. “Find out what Nangong Liu was
planning, and then kill him.”

Gaze full of regret, Chu Wanning knew that Nangong Liu had been right – he hadn’t known
enough of the world at the age of fifteen to recognize true evil. He had let Nangong Liu go to
ensure the stability of the upper cultivation world, and hadn’t wanted the young Nangong Si to see
his father as a monster. He was responsible for everything Nangong Liu had done afterwards – his
kindness had allowed cruelty to flourish, and a single question burned in his heart.

What was Nangong Liu planning?

------

As if in response, a giant skeletal foot stepped out of the surging lava. Its fingernail was as wide as
the wheel of the cars that did not exist in the cultivation world, and it filled half the lake. The other
foot slammed into the center of the orange grove, and the rest of the skeleton was soon to follow. It
turned its skull to howl at the sky, and slammed its massive axe onto the shore. Mud and rocks
shattered in a wave.

Wielding both swords, Nangong Liu darted forward to attack the skeleton. Soil and wood shattered
in the wake of their blades colliding, and Xu Shuanglin staggered at his side. He reinforced the
water barrier, leaning over to Nangong Liu. “Between the ribs!” he shouted. “Do you see it?”

“I see it,” Nangong Liu said through gritted teeth. A flame burned in the skull’s chest region,
outlining the faint shadow of a human figure. The flickering light hid as much as it revealed.

Mo Ran watched for a moment, confused. He felt that any reasonable person would assume that
Nangong Liu had summoned the monster to lay waste to the human world, but instead of directing
it, he appeared to be fighting it tooth and nail. He didn’t have the luxury of time to figure out what
the sect leader’s plan was, he saw, the ground beneath Xue Meng and the other puppets was about
to give way.

“Ten Thousand Coffins!” Mo Ran shouted, recalling Chu Wanning’s technique and mimicking it
perfectly. Red vines swarmed out of the ground to engulf the puppets, retreating toward the shore
and beyond once they had been caught.

“Well done,” Chu Wanning said quietly, his words warming Mo Ran’s heart.

With the people he loved safe in the embrace of his holy weapon, Mo Ran felt more able to
concentrate on the fight in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and focused on Nangong Liu – the
sect leader’s offensive strikes weren’t particularly impressive, but he was more than able to evade
and defend. He thought he should have expected it, given how Nangong Liu had run away from
him in his previous life, but he had had no idea.

The giant skeleton pressed its assault, but its very mass made it slow and ponderous. Nangong Liu
made his way upward bit by bit, until he reached its ribs. He could see the figure clinging to the
skeleton’s heart, and glee lit his features. With a rare honest smile, he cackled loudly. “I’ve found
you!” he shouted, staring at the man inside. His frail appearance was otherwise utterly average,
except that he was wrapped in flame, and his eyes were closed.

Raising his glowing blue sword, Nangong Liu struck at the man. As his weapon lanced forwards,
the man raised his head and opened his eyes. Sensing disaster, Xu Shuanglin shouted from below.
“I fucking told you not to look him in the eye!”

The warning came too late; Nangong Liu was caught in the man’s gaze. He barely had time to see
the man’s bloodshot eyes before pain surged through his body. He lost his grip on the giant’s ribs,
tumbling downward. Xu Shuanglin caught him, bare feet rapidly dancing across the ground.

“I told you,” he hissed. “Meeting his eyes means you feel the pain of your spirit soul.”

Standing shakily, Nangong Liu shivered. His mask had fallen off to reveal disheveled hair and a
panicked face; he tried to cover his exposed skin, but it began to crack and burn under the
moonlight. He screamed in pain, burying his face in his sleeves, but as the light hit his forearms,
the skin there, too, began to slough off.

From afar, Mo Ran and Chu Wanning stared, fascinated. Xu Shuanglin acted rapidly, yanking off
his outer robe and draping it over his sect leader. Breathing hard, he stood in the bitter cold
wearing only his white undergarment. Nangong Liu folded, collapsing halfway to the ground under
the protective cloth. Xu Shuanglin kicked his sect leader in the head. “Get up!” he shouted. “You
have to kill it!”

Nangong Liu, who acted badass on the outside and had the reputation of being the toughest of
great warriors, who had built up the greatest sect in the cultivation world not through martial
prowess but flattery and manipulation, sat on the ground and sobbed in pain. “I can’t do it,” he
cried. “Shuanglin, you have to kill it.”

Xu Shuanglin kicked him in the face. “Give me position of sect leader,” he snarled. “I do
everything for you anyway.”

“Don’t you think I want to?” Nangong Liu howled. “I’m sick of it! Luo Fenghua’s curse will affect
me for the rest of my life! He wants me to suffer forever! I only wish I could lay down this burden,
but I can’t remove the ring?”
this is high quality slapstick comedy right here

“Luo Fenghua?” Mo Ran asked quietly. “That sounds familiar.”

“The head of Rufeng Sect before Nangong Liu,” Chu Wanning replied. “He was only in charge for
two years before dying of an illness.”

Stunned, Mo Ran could only gape for a moment. “But Rufeng Sect has always been headed by the
Nangong family. How was there a sect leader surnamed Luo?”

“He became sect leader through treachery,” Chu Wanning said, and some of Mo Ran’s history
lessons swam up from the depths of his shaky memory. He hadn’t paid much attention to the
complicated and never-ending power plays.

“Treachery?” he said, hoping Chu Wanning would explain further.

“Very few people are familiar with the situation,” Chu Wanning said. “Fewer still will speak of it.
Nangong Liu worked hard to become sect leader; his father died when he was young, after
choosing Nangong Liu as his successor, but his younger brother was jealous and stole the sect
leader’s ring.”

“If it was his younger brother,” Mo Ran said, “his surname should also be Nangong.”

“Hush,” Chu Wanning said. “I’m not done.” He glanced at Nangong Liu, trembling on the ground.
He darted toward the flame in the skeleton’s chest, continuing to talk as he ran. “The younger
Nangong was brutal, becoming more and more vicious as time passed. He would imprison those
who stood against him, then publicly dig out their eyes before the main gate. The records say the
eyes he removed filled three carriages.”

Following him upwards, Mo Ran felt a shiver of apprehension. The contempt in Chu Wanning’s
voice was practically thick enough to touch, and Mo Ran knew that if Chu Wanning knew what
Mo Ran had done in his previous life, he would hate him. The younger Nangong had only killed
enough people to create a mound of eyes; Mo Ran had murdered the entire sect. He had tortured
one particular official with Lingchi fruit for over a year, draining his qi.

Even now, Mo Ran took pains to avoid that particular official, unable to trust that he would be able
to control himself if he saw him in person. His enmity ran too deep, his hatred still too vicious. He
knew he had no right to look down upon the bloodlust of others, not with what he had done. Beside
him, Chu Wanning was still talking as Nangong Liu struggled to his feet and also began to
approach the skeleton.

“Luo Fenghua was the younger Nangong’s teacher,” said Chu Wanning. “He couldn’t tolerate his
atrocities. He joined Nangong Liu in rebellion, and the two of them together drove the usurper
from power and out of the sect. However, Luo Fenghua was seduced by power and took the sect
leader’s ring for himself.”

“He stole it?” Mo Ran asked, shocked.

“All the sect leaders’ tokens are supplemented with powerful qi,” Chu Wanning continued. “Death
is the only way for it to change hands.”

“Did Nangong Liu kill Luo Fenghua to get the sect back?” Mo Ran asked.

Chu Wanning shook his head. “He is said to have died of illness.” He paused. “Nangong Liu then
reclaimed the ring, but I’m afraid that – given these recent developments – the story was not so
clear-cut.”

“So his younger brother was killed,” Mo Ran said.

“Killed by Luo Fenghua,” Chu Wanning confirmed. “Allegedly he dismembered the body.”

Further horror seeped into Mo Ran’s bones as he thought of how Chu Wanning must have felt
about him in his previous life. He wondered if Chu Wanning would have chopped him into pieces,
given the chance. A loud noise interrupted his self-pitying thoughts, and Mo Ran looked up to see
that Nangong Liu had finally manage to impale the man sheltered behind the skeleton’s ribs.

The skeleton gritted its giant teeth, howling and smashing craters in the ground with its bony hands.
Blood and fruit mingled in the earth, and then the skeleton abruptly collapsed. It shattered into
dust, and Nangong Liu pulled his sword free. He and the hanging man both tumbled to the ground,
but Nangong Liu turned his fall into a controlled dive, catching the other man and landing on his
feet.

“I’m free!” he cackled. “The curse has been broken! It’s broken!”

Finally coming to see what was going on, a group of cultivators from the wedding hall arrived.
Jiang Xi of Lonemoon Sect stopped short when he saw the lava. “Unparalleled Earth Fire?” he
gasped, and flung a handful of water-affiliated spiritual powder on the group of cultivators behind
him. Where most sects would use barriers, Lonemoon’s skill with powders and pills was
unparalleled and useful even in combat situations. He turned to Rufeng Sect’s leader. “Nangong
Liu,” he said sternly. “Explain yourself.”

Ignoring him, Nangong Liu cradled the body of the man he had pulled out of the skeleton. The
flames surrounding it had faded, apparently along with strength and consciousness, and the man’s
eyes remained closed. In the surrounding chaos, Xue Zhengyong saw his cultivators.

“Are you all right?” he asked, rushing over. “Ran? Constellation?” He looked around frantically.
“Where’s Meng?”

“He’s fine,” Mo Ran said hurriedly. “He’s over there.”

Following Mo Ran’s pointing finger, Xue Zhengyong saw his son wrapped in a vine. Only his pale
face was visible, and Xue Zhengyong slipped in his haste to reach Xue Meng. Mo Ran pulled him
back, steadying him.

“It’s only temporary,” he said. “He’ll be safe there.”

“What happened?” Xue Zhengyong asked, glancing back and forth between Mo Ran and Xue
Meng. “We saw the evil spirits arrive, and we saw Sect Leader Nangong.” He stopped speaking,
glancing to where Rufeng Sect’s leader stood in the lava. The corpse in Nangong Liu’s arms
looked familiar, and Xue Zhengyong began to feel that something was wrong.

Nangong Liu raised his head, face covered with blood, mouth open in a wide laugh. His eyes
flashed with a strange glow. Standing in the crowd, Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi were both frozen
in shock. Nangong Si stared at his father, and Ye Wangxi finally noticed his foster father standing
off to the side. Xu Shuanglin glanced at him, shaking his head.

A lazy smile graced Xu Shuanglin’s face as his loose white robe fluttered in the wind. He raised
his chin and looked over the Red Lotus Hell in front of him. Sparks flew from where his feet met
the ground, and he lowered his gaze again. He had the air of someone waiting, and he knew it had
happened when a scream rang out from the crowd.
The female cultivator’s cry of horror nearly drowned out the sound of chewing flesh. Xu Shuanglin
didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see Nangong Liu behind him, tearing open the corpse’s
neck with his teeth and drinking the blood. After the first scream, the crowd stared in silence,
unable to believe that the sect leader of the number one sect in the world was gnawing on a human
body.

The first to break was Nangong Si, running toward his father. Unable to hold him back, Ye Wangxi
could only follow. “What are you doing?” he shouted, coming to a halt as he got closer.

The moonlight was peeling the skin off of Nangong Liu’s flesh. The more it cracked and caused
him to bleed, the more madly he chewed on the corpse, as if it could break the curse. Someone in
the crowd vomited, and the murmuring got louder. The moonlight spilled over Nangong Liu’s
ravaged flesh, and he slowly stilled. He threw the corpse onto the ground, mouth bloody and face
full of rage.

“It’s useless!” he scraamed, tearing at his own flesh instead. “It hurts so much I wish I could die!”

Another thought appeared to occur to him, and he darted back toward the body. He dug at its chest,
reaching for the corpse’s spiritual core. Fingers slippery with blood and worse, he couldn’t
penetrate its ribs. He dug frantically, suddenly halted by a sharp claw penetrating his chest wall
from behind.

Slowly, Nangong Liu turned his blank gaze over his shoulder. Xu Shuanglin looked down at him
with a smile on his clean, fresh face. “What are you doing?” he said. “Eating anything is a waste
for people like you.”

------

Red blood followed the claws as Xu Shuanglin yanked them back out of Nangong Liu’s chest. His
lips opened and closed, finally disgorging more red blood as he slowly folded to the ground.
Nangong Si darted forward, screaming for his father, but Xu Shuanglin was in the way. He calmly
took a fruit out of his bag and shoved it into Nangong Liu’s mouth.

“Lingchi fruit,” Mo Ran breathed.

The same fruit that had been used to torture the people at Peach Blossom Spring had emerged from
Xu Shuanglin’s pouch, and Nangong Liu shuddered as he was forced to swallow. He curled into a
ball under Xu Shuanglin’s warm gaze. “Sect Leader,” he said, “I pitied you for the longest time.
You were good for nothing but being manipulated.”

“Foster father?” Ye Wangxi faltered, fear on her handsome face.

“Let my father go!” Nangong Si shouted, rushing forward to strike at Xu Shuanglin. The elder
knocked him back with a single hand and gave him a cold look.

“Don’t interrupt when adults are talking,” he said. “Kneel until I’m ready to listen to you.”

With another flick of the hand, Nangong Si slowly sank to the ground, straining under what seemed
to be a great weight. Sweat rolled down his brow. Ye Wangxi stepped in front of him, wavering
between her loyalty to her foster father and her beloved. “Please don’t hurt him,” she said.

“Who cares if he’s hurt?” Xu Shuanglin turned back to Nangong Liu, kicking him in the face. “So
many years,” he said. “I can’t help wanting to revisit old memories, now that the world’s heroes
are all here.”
Nangong Liu tried to speak, bringing forth another swell of frothy blood. He spat it out. “Old
memories?” he said. “You’re the one who told me that recalling Luo Fenghua’s soul would break
my curse. You lied to me. What about that?”

None of the young cultivators appeared to recognize the name, Mo Ran saw as he glanced around,
but Xue Zhengyong and the other elders paled. With a glance at the partially eaten corpse, Xue
Zhengyong was the only one able to speak. “Luo Fenghua?” he said.

“You were so easy,” Xu Shuanglin laughed. “Break a curse? You killed him with your own hands,
and now you’ve eaten his flesh and drunk his blood. And you think that will make it better?”

“He cursed me when he died,” Nangong Liu repeated. “Not a day has gone past that I didn’t fear
the moonlight. I only wanted to be free!”

“Of course,” Xu Shuanglin said, laughing. He crouched down, gripping Nangong Liu’s chin and
raising his face. “You have done very well,” he said, mirth fading. “You were the most obedient.
The most stupid.” Standing slowly, he smiled gently at the surrounding crowd and spread his arms
in invitation. “Esteemed guests,” he continued, “The banquet has finished, but I would like to invite
all of you to have dessert.”

The crowd muttered angrily, one of the young cultivators from the back shouting. “What nonsense
are you trying to pull?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Xu Shuanglin said. “I’d just like to provide you with a few interesting facts.
Rufeng Sect, condescending to the rest of the cultivation world, has hidden countless scandals of
its own. One in particular should be known.” The pitch of his voice lowered. “This is the last part
of Rufeng Sect’s secret history.”

A fresh wave of fear broke over Nangong Liu, and he shuddered so violently he couldn’t speak. He
could only stare in horror at the person standing in front of him, the person he had trusted and who
had stabbed him in the back. With a great effort, he choked out, “What the hell are you?”

Bright light shone from Xu Shuanglin’s hand and coalesced into a dagger. He sliced down the
center of his palm, and used the blood to draw a symbol on his forearm. Then he turned back to
Nangong Liu and smiled. “Sect Leader, what happens next will answer that question very clearly.”

Having had enough, Mo Ran moved to stop him, but Chu Wanning held him back. “It’s not a
curse,” his teacher said in a low voice. “It’s the Dream Reflection Formation, and will allow all of
us to see his memories. I want to know what he wants to show us.”

The light of the formation was swept away by the wind, soaring higher and expanding until the
array covered the entire lake. Fragments of memories fell from the sky like dust, blanketing the
ground as if heavy snow had suddenly fallen. The scenery shimmered and changed, the lava fading
and the woods disappearing to be replaced by Rufeng Sect’s Yao Tai Pavilion. The flying jade
platform held only two people, one standing and one seated.

The man on his feet, hair uncombed and dressed casually, was Xu Shuanglin. Nangong Liu was
seated near him, wearing a dark red robe that made his face look even paler. He caressed the sect
leader’s ring, inlaid with pale blue jade, radiating excitement and anxiety. “Have the five holy
weapons been prepared?”

“This is the ninth time you’ve asked,” Xu Shuanglin said. “If you ask again, I’m leaving.”

“Fine, fine,” Nangong Liu said, shifting position. “Then we’ll wait for the guests and the day of
the wedding. Show me the sacrificial list again, so I can see who’s still missing.”

Rolling his eyes, Xu Shuanglin tossed him a scroll. Nangong Liu started paging through it, eyes
burning feverishly. He counted, muttering under his breath, and then went back to the beginning
and counted again. “Everyone is here,” he said.

“More than twenty people affiliated with the five elements, plus the five elemental qi guards
you’ve set up,” Xu Shuanglin said easily. “Though it might not be as much power as an elemental
qi, it’s more than enough. I guarantee I will be able to open the doors to the Infinite Hells.”

Gripping the book so tightly that it creaked under his grasp, Nangong Liu nodded rapidly. “Okay.”

“This is our last chance,” Xu Shuanglin warned him. “If we screw it up again, it’ll be even harder
to break the curse.”

“We can’t smash it,” Nangong Liu fretted.

“Don’t worry,” Xu Shuanglin said lazily. “We won’t.”

“Good, good.” Nangong Liu shifted again, irritably. “Shuanglin, I’m still worried. Can we go over
the plan again?”

“We’ve already gone over it,” Xu Shuanglin said, patience beginning tofray.

“Let’s do it once more,” Nangong Liu said. “You can’t prepare too much.”

“Fine,” Xu Shuanglin sighed.

“On the eve of my son’s wedding,” Nangong Liu started. “We’ll draw lots, and the pre-marked
tokens will be pulled out. Then it’s your turn.”

“I’ll ask to be included, yes,” Xu Shuanglin repeated, bored. “Then I go into the forest, lead them
to the lake, and implant the Zhenlong chess pieces. Then we send their qi to the holy weapons,
ignite the flares, and tear open the rift.”

“Good, good,” Nangong Liu crowed, excitement winning out over anxiety. “Then I lead five
squads of guards, planning to seal the rift, and we’ll turn them into chess pieces as well. We offer
them as sacrifices.”

Xu Shuanglin nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“We can’t fuck it up,” Nangong Liu said, curling his hands into fists. “I’ve suffered so much.” He
muttered under his breath, and then looked up abruptly. “Are we sure not having an elemental
spiritual essence won’t be a problem? What if the power from the holy weapons isn’t pure
enough?”

“They are of the highest quality,” Xu Shuanglin said. “They’ll perform as expected.”

“But what if we can’t open the gates of hell? What if someone comes to stop us, like they did at
Butterfly Town? Like that bastard, Chu Wanning.” Nangong Liu’s face darkened and twisted.
“Killing him was a lucky break, but then he had the audacity to get resurrected.”

Mo Ran twitched furiously. Rufeng Sect had sent a squad of cultivators to Butterfly Town, and
over a hundred of their disciples had died in the fight. He looked between the two men, unable to
figure out which of them might be the puppet master. In the illusion, Xu Shuanglin was replying,
but Mo Ran had missed the first part of his words.

either one would be a great disappointment as the puppet master

“To die so easily is a pity,” Xu Shuanglin finished.

“He might be competent, but I hate his arrogant face,” Nangong Liu muttered.

“Sect Leader, you saw him a few days ago, right? Did he suffer any damage to his qi when he was
resurrected?”

“I don’t know about his energy, but his temper hasn’t been tempered at all,” Nangong Liu said
with a hateful laugh. “High and mighty, looking down on everyone else, looking at me like I’m a
dog.”

“A dog,” Xu Shuanglin repeated.

“Say that again, and you will regret it,” Nangong Liu hissed. “I am the sect leader of the greatest
sect in the world. It’s one thing for me to pay respect to Chu Wanning, but to be disrespected by his
disciple? Grandmaster Mo, my ass.” He stopped, breathing heavily. “He’s even worse than his
teacher. Pity I can’t use him instead of the spiritual weapon, with his spiritual wood essence.”

“You failed to use him twice, at Jincheng Lake and at Peach Blossom Spring,” Xu Shuanglin
reminded him. “Then you lost track of him for five years, and the one time you found him, Jiang
Xi healed him from what the Yellow River demon did. He’s not a viable option.”

“Once I break the curse, I’ll be stronger,” Nangong Liu said angrily. “Both Chu Wanning and Mo
Ran will have to kneel before me.” He stared at the ring on his finger. “Shuanglin,” he said
abruptly. “You gave up five years ago, and not just because Mo Ran went missing.” He glanced
upwards. “You want to use holy weapons instead of live bodies because Ye Wangxi is the earth
spiritual essence, don’t you? You don’t want to give up your adopted daughter.”

“I don’t care about her,” Xu Shuanglin said. “Sect Leader, you know the fire spiritual essence is
your son. Even if I could sacrifice Ye Wangxi, could you sacrifice Nangong Si?”

“Forget it.” Nangong Liu waved dismissively. “We’ll stick with the holy weapons. Let’s stop
talking about it.” He paused, staring at the horizon with unfocused eyes for so long that the
watching cultivators thought the memory was about to come to an end. “Look out for yourself, or
heaven and earth will destroy you,” he said softly.

The watching crowd flinched; the elders and parents were completely unable to understand how
someone could stand to even contemplate sacrificing their own child. Nangong Si stood stiffly,
face blank and eyes empty. The light faded, sparkling memory fragments dissipating until with the
sound of wind chimes. The wind picked up, carrying more fragments until a clear sky and towering
mountain surrounded them.

“It’s Jincheng Lake,” Mo Ran murmured.

------

A sign written in red was near the edge of the lake, warning travelers to proceed with caution and
that the road was difficult. The only two living people present were once again Nangong Liu and
Xu Shuanglin, bu they were surrounded by the corpses of merfolk. "If we block the path and
prevent other cultivators from ascending the mountain, we'll arouse suspicion," Nangong Liu
fretted.
"It's nearly done," Xu Shuanglin said, stuffing a black seed into a corpse's mouth. He changed a
spell and the corpse stood, bowed, and leapt into the crushed ice covering the surface of the lake.
"I'm still not proficient with this technique," he added. "Once I'm better at it, I won't need to feed
them the pawns individually. I'll be able to remotely implant the pieces."

"The technique is that powerful?"

"Why else is it forbidden?" Xu Shuanglin laughed. "And even then, it's easy if you cultivate
enough power. I've seen - I mean, heard of people who could preserve the consciousness of a living
being while still compelling them to obey orders. Amazing. But all I can control is the body."

"It might be for the best," Nangong Liu said. "If you're too skilled, you'll attract too much
attention."

"You're right, Sect Leader."

"But you did find this method, even if undoing the curse requires opening the gates of hell and
possessing the qi of all five elements. Spirit bodies are hard to find in this world, but we can at least
catalogue the elemental affinities of the cultivators who come looking for spiritual weapons. That
should come in useful." Nangong Liu took out an orange, peeling it as he spoke. He popped a
section in his mouth and sighed. "Shuanglin, you were strong enough to defeat every creature in the
lake. Admirable."

Xu Shuanglin smiled modestly. "It's been hundreds of millions of years," he said. "Gouchen the
Exalted's influence has all but faded. You're too kind, Sect Leader."

"Then how shall I reward your efforts?" Nangong Liu asked, with a laugh.

"I have no requests."

"No, you must tell me."

"Then, Sect Leader, I would like to request half of your orange."

Shocked for a moment, Nangong Liu smiled. "Nonsense," he said, but he handed the remaining
fruit to Xu Shuanglin. "Please accept all of it."

Xu Shuanglin broke off half the orange and held out the remainder. "Only half," he insisted.

"You're a very odd fellow," Nangong Liu said, accepting the fruit back. Traces of blood were on
Xu Shuanglin's fingertips, marring the fruit, but Nangong Liu ignored it. Xu Shuanglin stuffed the
fruit in his mouth, the sticky juice dripping from the corners of his lips. His tongue flicked out like
a snake to catch the droplets, and in that moment his smile was horrifying.

Nangong Liu pulled his hand back suddenly, afraid but unsure why, and Xu Shuanglin suddenly
pointed. "Look." The man-eating fish of Jincheng Lake lay on the beach, canine teeth mottled with
blood, but its eyes were blank. Xu Shuanglin rubbed his toes in the sand and kicked the fish. "It's
one of the few evil beasts left in the city," he said. "Although it did not start out that way, the
passage of time changes much."

"Back then, you wanted me to offer up Rong Yan's heart," Nangong Liu said.

Outside the memory, the watching crowd was shocked. Chu Wanning was the only person whose
face remained calm, as he had known already that Nangong Liu had sacrificed his wife to obtain a
holy weapon. The rest of the cultivators began to murmur in horror, many of them turning to peer
at Nangong Si with pity in their eyes. The heir to Rufeng Sect began to tremble, stepping back from
his father, and fell to his knees. His face was ashen.

"My mother?" he whispered. "That's impossible."

"Oh, Si," Ye Wangxi said, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes, but Nangong Si refused to be
comforted.

The heir's face contorted with fury and horror, and a rushing noise filled his ears. He screamed.
"My mother died fighting demons! Father told me they stabbed her through the heart!" He shook
his head, over and over. "Her heart was pierced, and then she died." His eyes were wide-open but
unseeing, shot through with red, mind flooded with memories of his parents setting out to seek their
holy weapons. "Stabbed through the heart," he muttered, and he remembered very clearly that he
had snuck out to play with Naobaijin that day before stealthily re-entering the house as if he had
been there doing his lessons the whole time.

Little had the young Nangong Si known that his mother had brought him a new embroidered cloth
quiver while he had been out, and had surmised where he had gone when she had been unable to
find him. She had asked him later what he had done that day, and - not knowing he had been found
out - he had lied to her. Rong Yan had looked at him, chin raised elegantly, and called him a liar.
He had protested, and she had insisted he recite the lessons he had supposedly been studying.
When he was unable, she had slapped the scroll onto the table.

"I did not raise you to deceive others," she had said.

"Mother," Nangong Si had protested.

"No son of mine is a liar."

Nangong Si had panicked, realizing she was truly angry with him, and he had admitted that he had
been outside. Still trying to preserve some semblance of responsibility, he had not told the whole
truth, and she had seen through him. She had slapped him for it.

“Nangong Si! Greed, hatred, lies, murder, rape, robbery and pillage are seven things a gentleman
of Rufeng can’t do. Have you not learned these words? Are you still going to continue lying to your
mother?!”

With anger in his heart and tears in his eyes, Nangong Si had yelled back. They had fought bitterly,
Nangong Si resenting his mother and burning with rage and humiliation as she bound him in place
with a barrier. "Let me go!" he had raged, and accused her of never acting like a proper mother,
shouting that she never loved him and only scolded him.

Taken aback, Rong Yan had sent him to his room; she knew she was cold on the outside, but she
hadn't thought her son had failed to see how much she loved him. She had looked at him, sad and
helpless and yet still bound up in resentment. "Si," she had said, "you're still young. The world is
full of right and wrong, and you must judge with your heart and not just your eyes. Your father is
weak, and I don't want you to become like him. You don't apply yourself enough, but that's not
important. Rufeng Sect, the School of Wind, has hundreds of years of history and integrity. Your
father hasn't taught you this, but I will make sure you learn it."

"Dad treats me well because he wants me to be happy," Nangong Si had lashed out. "I don't have to
do what you want."

"I won't be with you forever," Rong Yan had said slowly. "One day I will no longer be able to
guide you. I hope that my words will have reached you by then." She had looked at him, still
trapped under her barrier, crying miserably, and wanted nothing more than to release him. She had
restrained her compassionate urges with the greatest of willpower, causing her child pain so that he
would learn. “Greed, hatred, lies, murder, rape, robbery and pillage are seven things a gentleman of
Rufeng can’t do.”

"I don't care," Nangong Si had said spitefully. "I wish you weren't my mother."

She had paled in shock, staring at him from outside the barrier. Her face at that moment had
haunted his dreams since then, regret driving him to sadness and tears. It had been the last time he
had seen her; she had sent the embroidered quiver to him instead, along with a letter. She had told
him that she would join his father at Jincheng Lake, and that she wished for him to study while
they were away.

Still angry and resentful, Nangong Si had cut the quiver to pieces and burned the letter. He had
wanted her to return and see the destruction he had wrought in revenge for her terrible parenting.
He waited for her to acknowledge that she had wronged him, wanting only soft words and an
embrace, but she never returned.

Nangong Si had been told that his mother had died protecting his father from a demon ambush. He
had been silent throughout the funeral, dazed and unable to weep. The sun had shone brightly, as if
it did not care that his world had ended. Her final words to him rang out in his ears, that day and
afterwards. The bitter tears of his father and the thousands of disciples had surrounded his still
form, and he had gripped the remnants of the cloth quiver he had tried to destroy. It was the last
thing she had given him, and he had vowed that he would never let it go.

i feel like this is angsty just for the sake of being angsty and does not actually add value to the
story or depth to nangong si's character

------

The bloody truth continued to play out in front of the massed cultivators. Nangong Liu crushed the
man-eating fish's face on the lakeshore. "Beast," he said contemptuously. "He wanted my wife's
spiritual core and I wouldn't give it."

"For the sake of the holy weapons, you did," Xu Shuanglin said.

"Don't make it sound so cold," Nangong Liu said. "She was already in poor health. She was dying
and our son had no idea. She'd been seen by the best doctors and even they couldn't help her. I
wouldn't have sacrificed her if she hadn't been so close to dying already." Xu Shuanglin only
watched him, eyebrow raised. "Destiny is unfair," Nangong Liu said angrily, staring at the remains
of the beast at his feet.

"What?" Xu Shuanglin said, with a disbelieving laugh.

"Fate is unfair," Nangong Liu repeated. "Most people just have to produce a broken branch or a
song for their holy weapon, and I have to give up my wife. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
Fury mounted in his face. “The attendants were silent, when it required such a terrible sacrifice,
and Chu Wanning – a teenager, and yet he dared criticize me. I don’t believe for a second that if he
were given the choice between a powerful holy weapon and a dying spouse, that he would do any
different than I did.”

“It’s hard to say,” Xu Shuanglin said with a laugh, and he grinned wider at Nangong Liu’s dubious
expression. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious. It’s hard to predict what others will do.”
“All he wanted was to make a name for himself,” Nangong Liu said contemptuously. He kicked
the fish again. “All I have suffered since becoming sect leader is misfortune. I have to smile and
welcome others, enduring humiliation after humiliation, or Chu Wanning would have killed me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Xu Shuanglin said, still smiling. “I think he wanted to kill you then. But I
didn’t expect you to win him over. Not only did you escape from his holy weapon, you ensured his
silence. Quite admirable, sect leader.”

“He knows just as well as we do that Rufeng Sect must appear strong,” Nangong Liu said.
“Besides, we had to think of Nangong Si. He had to think that his mother died heroically, rather
than learn the truth.”

With a sigh, Xu Shuanglin nodded wisely. “No wonder he wanted to leave. A righteous man
wouldn’t stay in a sect with a leader like you.”

“Do you think I want to be like this?” Nangong Liu hissed. “My destiny is unfair.”

“Grandmaster Chu,” said someone he couldn’t see. “You knew the truth of Madam Rong’s death?”

As if a river had been loosed, the crowd began to mutter furiously in anger at Chu Wanning for
helping to hide an atrocity. A few cultivators defended his decision to protect Nangong Si by
remaining silent, but they were shouted down by others who believed that Chu Wanning’s
noninterference had allowed matters to progress unchecked. Chaos would have been the result
then, argued his supporters, and the argument continued.

is there a reason everyone is stuck on chu wanning’s actions and not on the two people who
actually committed the atrocities? What’s more important here? Not chu fucking wanning
oh my fucking god

Although most of the muttering was too soft to be made out more than a few feet away, Mo Ran’s
hearing was good enough to understand the gist. Furious, he wanted to set the rest of the
cultivator’s straight, but Chu Wanning caught his sleeve.

“Sir,” Mo Ran protested.

“Don’t,” his teacher said, shaking his head.

“But they don’t understand,” Mo Ran said. “They don’t understand what’s really important. How
could you have made it public?”

he was so close to saying something 100% correct

“Let it go,” Chu Wanning said flatly. “If you really want to do something, cover my ears so I don’t
have to listen to their bullshit. When they stop talking, let go.”

With his warm hands, Mo Ran covered Chu Wanning’s ears from behind. Anger and pain warred
in his heart at the recriminations leveled against Chu Wanning – why did the world not understand
that everything he did was perfect and without fault? Across both of Mo Ran’s lifetimes he had
acted selflessly and never complained, and yet he was being torn down for his actions in a situation
where there had been no clear correct choice.

In his previous life, the Evil Overlord had killed countless people but distributed huge amounts of
gold to the masters of Wubei Temple. He had been praised for his generosity and his ill deeds
ignored, and yet Chu Wanning as the world’s kindest and most benevolent cultivator was vilified
no matter what he did. He was hated for his cold-bloodedness when acting ruthlessly and hated for
cowardice when he acted out of kindness.

oh please the narrative is absolutely full of the world falling all over itself to worship chu
fucking wanning don’t give me this utter bullshit, mo ran

Even Chu Wanning’s actions outside Butterfly Town hadn’t been above reproach – he had been
castigated for whipping his client, and despised for having few to no close friends. He had been
hated for abandoning his teacher. There was nothing he had done that hadn’t been dissected and
criticized. Mo Ran kept his teacher’s ears covered so that he wouldn’t have to listen to such terrible
things.

Although he was tall and slender, the top of Chu Wanning's head came no higher than Mo Ran's
chin. He aroused protective instincts in Mo Ran, despite his strength, an upwelling of love and
tenderness. As he wrestled with the urge to embrace Chu Wanning, Xu Shuanglin's memory of
Jincheng Lake faded. Chu Wanning shifted his gaze to Nangong Si's kneeling form and sighed,
thinking that the heir had nearly been his disciple. He had wanted him to spend his life believing
his mother had died heroically, but his wish had not been granted.

Chu Wanning saw another kneeling form interposed over Nangong Si, a child slowly reciting
lessons to his mother. He hesitated, soft voice stumbling to a halt, and crying as his mother didn't
answer. No matter how well he learned, or how badly he failed, she remained silent. Chu Wanning
knew that Nangong Si had become a high-spirited youth after his mother's death, and then Chu
Wanning had also abandoned him. Only the old arrow quiver had stayed with Nangong Si. With
his mother's words resonating in his heart for fifteen years, Nangong Si had become a righteous
hero completely different from his father.

The illusion coalesced again, this time becoming Nangong Liu's bedroom. He curled up on his bed,
the full moon shining outside his window. "Let go," Chu Wanning murmured to Mo Ran. "I want
to keep watching."

"You can also choose not to watch, and I'll tell you what happened," Mo Ran said, but Chu
Wanning irritably tugged his hands away. He looked around, paying attention to anyone slandering
his beloved and perfect teacher so that he could track them down later and take his revenge.

In the illusion, Xu Shuanglin bowed to Nangong Liu from the doorway, sloppy and discourteous,
but the sect leader was curled miserably on his bed and did not seem to care. “Where’s the
medicine, Shuanglin?” he asked, trembling.

“I failed.”

Nangong Liu cried out in pain and protest. “You said you could find it,” he sobbed. “It hurts so
much, like my bones are all breaking. Close the windows, close them tight.”

“It’s the full moon today,” Xu Shuanglin said. “You’ll feel its pain whether you stay inside or not.”

“You said there was medicine,” Nangong Liu accused. “You said it would help.”

“I read the book again,” Xu Shuanglin told him. “It won’t. The curse is too strong. You need to get
rid of it entirely.”

“Just tell me how,” Nangong Liu said, sitting up.

“I need the spirit core of the person who cursed you.”

The hope faded from Nangong Liu’s face. “You want his spiritual core?” he whispered, and then
flew into a rage. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed. “You know who cursed me! My
teacher, that piece of trash! Luo Fenghua usurped my place and when I took it back, I cut him to
pieces! I dumped his ashes into the blood pond and sent his spirit soul into the unbroken hell so it
would never be reincarnated, and now you want me to bring you his spiritual core? Are you out of
your mind?”

Xu Shuanglin said nothing, only stared steadily at Nangong Liu until he wilted. As the despair
began to cover his face, Xu Shuanglin smiled slightly. “I have another method, though it is
difficult.”

“Tell me!”

“Luo Fenghua is dead, but ghosts that fall into the Infernal Realm of the Unmatched may combine
three souls and seven souls to form a demon looking just like the ghost did in life.”

“That doesn’t help me,” Nangong Liu said. “I can’t go to the Infernal Realm to retrieve his
corpse.”

“You can’t go there, but you can summon him here.” Xu Shuanglin paused, looking at the candle
flame. “The ghost realm and the mortal realm are separated by a barrier, but that barrier can be
opened with the right kind of qi.”

“Create a rift into the ghost realm?”

“That’s right,” Xu Shuanglin laughed. “Bring out his Ghost Embryo – it will resemble him as he
was in life, and it has a spirit core. Eat his flesh and remove the core.” He paused. “But gathering
the right kinds of energy will be difficult. Collecting a spiritual essence would be the best method,
but there might be another way.”

Instead of answering, Nangong Liu simply wailed. He trembled violently, curling back into a ball
on the bed, and tears flooded his face. Xu Shuanglin sighed.

“Is it really that painful?” he asked. “How terribly you have been punished for murdering your
master.” He sat on the edge of the bed, crossing his one leg over the other and resting his cheek on
one hand. “The pain will stop when the sun rises,” he said. “I’ll stay with you, distract you so it
doesn’t hurt so much.” He peered at where Nangong Liu lay, gasping for breath. “Why don’t we
talk about Si? He’s not an easy child. His spirit core is unstable, and may cause his cultivation to
go berserk. Doesn’t it run in your family? His great-grandfather had the same affliction?”

“Yes,” Nangong Liu choked out. “But better that curse than mine. Whoever he marries can
stabilize his spirit with dual cultivation, but my curse has no cure.”

“The more you think about it, the more it hurts,” Xu Shuanglin said. “But dual cultivation isn’t
good for the companion’s body,” he added. “I heard Si’s great-grandmother died of dual
cultivation.” He sighed. “Rufeng Sect really just uses women, don’t you?”

“Women’s lives have no value,” Nangong Liu said.

“Why would you look down on women so much?” Xu Shuanglin asked.

“I don’t know why you’re asking,” Nangong Liu said petulantly. “You know Grand Sect Master’s
teachings as well as I do.”

“Which ones?” Xu Shuanglin asked.

“That the sect should be led by a gentleman,” Nangong Liu said. “A man, you understand?”

“Sect leader, your misinterpretation of the teachings is so vast that it might call the grand sect
leader back from heaven to chastise you.”

Trembling, Nangong Liu glared at him. “You’re not married. You don’t understand. Women are
supposed to sacrifice their lives to care for their husbands. My grandmother was willing.”

“Willing?” Xu Shuanglin smiled. “Then do you have someone in mind for Si, someone who will
sacrifice her life for his?”

“I have.”

“What?” Xu Shuanglin gaped, but Nangong Liu didn’t notice. “Who? Tell me, quickly.”

“Your daughter,” Nangong Liu said hoarsely, burrowing deeper into the quilt. “Ye Wangxi.”

------

The memory image Xu Shuanglin’s eyes widened, and the crowd gasped. Mo Ran felt that
something was wrong; he knew that Ye Wangxi’s friendship with Nangong Si was more than
platonic after Ye Wangxi had asked to be buried with Nangong Si. In his previous life, Ye Wangxi
had been widely known to be a woman.

revisionist bullshit, there was absolutely no indication of that and his internal monologue
specifically referred to Ye Wangxi as a man

With the new revelations, Mo Ran wondered if Nangong Si’s sudden death due to illness had really
been a coincidence. He suspected it had been murder rather than natural causes, and saw Xu
Shuanglin’s hands clenched into fists in the memory scene. His smile had turned brittle.

“Ye Wangxi?” Xu Shuanglin repeated.

“She’s the most suitable,” Nangong Liu said.

“Suitable,” Xu Shuanglin repeated. “You wanted to raise her to be the leader of the shadow guard,
so you made sure she’d stay a virgin. Now you want to give her to your son.”

“He was unhappy,” Nangong Liu admitted. “I saw them laughing and chatting, and then he had the
gall to tell me that he didn’t like her at all. That he only looked after her because she was a girl. He
wouldn’t accept the marriage.” He snorted. “Maybe he just doesn’t like her because she’s not
pretty enough.”

“If your sect leader suddenly told you to marry a woman you didn’t like,” Xu Shuanglin said,
“would you be willing? No. You don’t respect your son at all.”

“He’s shallow!” Nangong Liu snapped. “A wife has to be useful and virtuous. He can take pretty
girls as concubines if he wants, once his body stabilizes.” He sighed. “I should have seen that Ye
Wangxi had feelings for him.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” Xu Shuanglin said. “He won’t accept it.”

“He’ll need her strength,” Nangong Liu protested. “If he were to marry an ordinary woman, dual
cultivation would be incredibly painful for her. Ye Wangxi loves him. She can bear it.”
“How could she be willing?”

“I asked her,” Nangong Liu said. “I’ve told her about the whole thing. She’s more afraid of him
being hurt than of her own death.”

Xu Shuanglin lowered his head, expression unreadable. “She is a fool,” he said finally.

Mo Ran was almost sure that Xu Shuanglin had murdered Nangong Si in his previous life in order
to save his daughter’s life. Only Song Qiutong, the throwback, had saved him in this life – she was
the perfect partner for dual cultivation. There would be no need for Ye Wangxi to die saving
Nangong Si’s life. What he couldn’t figure out was why Xu Shuanglin was so attached to Ye
Wangxi.

The illusion faded once again, a new scene brightening the sky. Nangong Liu was much younger,
almost slender rather than the plump man he had become later. He held the sect leader’s finger
ring in one hand, which could not be taken off once it had been put on. Nangong Liu had not yet
put it on his finger in the memory, and was still not the true master of the sect.

An attendant came in, kneeling to pay his respects wearing robes still stained with blood. Mo Ran
deduced that it would have been right after Luo Fenghua had been killed. He nodded at the
attendant’s words proving his assumption correct.

“Sect leader, what should we do with the corpse?” asked the attendant.

“Bury it in the hero’s tomb,” Nangong Liu said. “We’re master and disciple. The least I can do is
give him a decent burial.”

“Yes, sir,” said the attendant, and left.

Mo Ran frowned; he knew that Luo Fenghua’s body had been torn to shreds and that he had been
turned into an evil spirit, and yet the memory clearly showed a different fate. The illusory Nangong
Liu rubbed the jade ring, eyes flashing with a strange luster. He raised his hand to the candle flame
and put the ring on his thumb. He stared at his hand, turning it back and forth, and the corners of
his mouth slowly curled up.

Suddenly, Nangong Liu froze. He spasmed, falling from the throne. His face was covered with
blood, countless small wounds appearing and disappearing. He shivered. “It hurts,” he moaned.
“Why does it hurt?”

Footsteps sounded outside the door. A man with bare feet stepped onto the bricks, stopping in front
of Nangong Liu and coming to a half-kneeling position. Xu Shuanglin bent over, touching
Nangong Liu’s face. An expression of disgust creased his brow. “What happened to you?” he
asked.

“I don’t know. Please, please help me.”

The ring caught Xu Shuanglin’s attention, and he grabbed Nangong Liu’s right hand. His
expression shifted. “The Ten Thousand Tribulations Curse?” he asked, but Nangong Liu didn’t
know what that was. He looked up in a daze, tears streaming down his face. “It’s a Death Curse,”
Xu Shuanglin explained. “Luo Fenghua enchanted it so that if the wearer saw even the slightest bit
of moonlight, it would tear their skin painfully. It will repeat every night.”

“What,” Nangong Liu said dumbly.

“Furthermore,” Xu Shuanglin continued, “you’ll feel the pain every full moon, even if no light at
all touches your skin.” He looked down at Nangong Liu. “It won’t stop until you die.”

With a comical twitch, his expression looking like that of a panic-stricken rat, Nangong Liu
blinked. “Until I die? It can’t be broken?”

“I don’t know,” Xu Shuanglin said slowly. “I might be able to find a way, with enough time.”

Laughing hysterically, Nangong Liu broke free of Xu Shuanglin’s grasp. He climbed down the
steps, sobbing in pain between bursts of laughter. “Luo Fenghua,” he shouted. “Curse me? You
cursed me? You stole my family’s seat and then you cursed me? I left your corpse intact, I buried
you in the hero’s tomb! And yet you curse me to suffer night after night! Until I die!”

With a roar, Nangong Liu moved toward the door. He hid in the dark shadows, fingers twitching as
he slammed his hands into the ground. He screamed at Luo Fenghua, unable to stop himself.

“Sect leader,” Xu Shuanglin said finally, trying to calm him down, but Nangong Liu only
continued ranting and raving like a madman. His bloody face was etched with hatred, the light of
insanity in his eyes. He screamed hysterically, shouting for his attendants, and they filed in warily.

“The previous sect leader,” Nangong Liu gasped. “He committed a heinous crime, unforgivable! I
want his remains taken and shattered into a thousand pieces!”

Off to the side, Xu Shuanglin stood with his eyes lowered and his face blank. Nangong Liu
screeched in pain again, sobbing, but he continued to order the desecration of Luo Fenghua’s body.
It was to be burned to ash and dumped in the blood pool, to sink him into the Infernal Realm of
Hell, unable to reincarnate.

As the memory came to an end, the real Nangong Liu opened his empty eyes. “Luo Fenghua,” he
muttered. “You beast.”

The scraps of memory began to collapse into snowflakes again, reassembling into yet another
scene. Unveiling the secret information of Rufeng Sect was a blow to all present, some wounded
by personal involvement, while others were excited by their peek into the hidden lives of the
exalted. How many of them, Mo Ran thought, were sincere in their wish to congratulate the happy
couple, or had passed through the grand gates without a hint of jealousy in their hearts – great
deeds always attracted attention, and not all of it was good.

The pain of others was always a popular topic of conversation, and Mo Ran didn’t want to listen to
it any more. He couldn’t help but stay, needing the information that would help him solve the case
of the puppet master, particularly when he still felt something wasn’t right. Something was wrong
with the memory, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

From the corner of his eyes, Mo Ran saw a strange light flashing in the distance. He looked past
the illusion of memory to the woods on the other side, and suddenly he recognized it. “Tribulation
Fire!” he shouted in warning.

The crowd dissolved into anxious chattering, milling around to look for the danger. Mo Ran could
see the seventy-two cities ablaze with scarlet flame, although the forest was thick and the buildings
were too far away to see clearly. It was the fiercest of flames, difficult to extinguish without a
sufficient supply of water. Mo Ran could see them spreading like water running over silk.

Disciples suddenly appeared in the sky, riding their swords. The disciples in the forest began to run
toward them, loudly asking what had happened and calling for their companions. Xue Zhengyong
was one of them – his wife didn’t know how to ride the sword, and she would be trapped.
“Mo Ran, Constellation Saint,” he snapped. “Please look after Meng. I need to find my wife.”

Anxious, Mo Ran nodded. “Go,” he said. “Take care of her. I’ll make sure Xue Meng is safe.”

With a brief pat on the shoulder, Xue Zhengyong dashed away. Xu Shuanglin stood quietly,
breaking into a bright smile. “What a scene,” he murmured. “Monkeys scatter as the tree falls.” He
snapped his fingers, gathering his memories into his palm, and the scenery around them returned to
normal.

The heavenly rift was still open. Lava oozed out into the forest, and Mo Ran stared at Xu
Shuanglin’s eyes. He felt there was something wrong with his expression, something familiar. It
reminded him of himself, he realized, when he had looked in the mirror in the empty Wushan
Palace after Chu Wanning had died. He had been suffused with madness and bloodlust.

“You want to destroy Rufeng Sect?” he asked softly.

Xu Shuanglin rubbed his toes together before he smiled. “So what if I do?” he said lightly. “It’s my
home. I can destroy it, if I want to.” He walked over to Nangong Liu and grabbed him by the
collar. He hauled him upright and glared. “It’s my own house,” he growled, forcing Nangong Liu
to face him, and reached for the skin at the base of his jaw. He tore off his face, inch by inch,
revealing it to be a mask. Nangong Liu started trembling harder.

“You,” he said shakily. “You – it can’t be you. You’re dead.”

“I’m not dead. I’m still alive,” said the man who wasn’t Xu Shuanglin. “I couldn’t possibly die
before you do. I’m so much stronger than you in every aspect.” He paused. “Are you frozen in
happiness?” A flame danced over the man’s hands, burning the mask. It covered his hands, burning
his fingertips, and he shook his hand. He pressed his burnt finger to Nangong Liu’s lips, and tilted
his head with a smile. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Sect Leader? Or should I call you brother?”

------

Enough elder members of the crowd were still present for some of them to recognize Nangong Xu
- he had been killed by Luo Fenghua, and yet was standing before them. Ye Wangxi's pretty face
paled in shock, and she shook her head. "Foster father," she said, stepping back. The man who had
been Xu Shuanglin stared at her for a long moment before smiling.

"Little Ye," he said. "Come to daddy. Daddy won't hurt you."

"Don't touch her!" Nangong Si shouted, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him.

"My good nephew," Nangong Xu said. "Such a hot temper, so unlike your father. You're so much
like your mother, instead."

"Shut up!"Nangong Si snarled. "Don't you talk about my mother!"

"Did you know," Nangong Xu said slowly, "that it wasn't your father your mother was in love
with? She loved me." He threw back his head and laughed as Nangong Si screamed in rage, clearly
relishing the distress he had caused. "Your father destroyed my reputation, stole everything from
me, and you thought I would just die?" His smile tightened and he spat on the ground. "As if!"

Walking around the dying Nangong Liu, he grabbed his older brother's collar and lifted him. "Such
a brilliant scholar, such a wonderful sect leader," he sneered. "I have been manipulating him for
years, as he leapt to obey my every whim." He patted Nangong Liu's bloody cheek as if he were a
beloved pet, his smile turning intimate. "You're a lustful coward, Liu, good for nothing."
"Your Excellency's goal is to destroy the ancient and venerable foundation of Rufeng Sect?" asked
Jiang Xi from the crowd.

"Foundation?" Nangong Xu turned around. "I want it to shatter so badly that it will never be
reborn." He paused with a bright smile. "I'm going to destroy all of your hearts," he added, and the
deadly serious edge to his voice struck fear in those who heard it.

Unable to restrain himself, Nangong Si whipped out his jade flute to summon the faewolf
Naobaijin. The wolf dashed from the forest, leaping toward Nangong Si. Eyes crazed and full of
nothing but hatred, the heir to Rufeng Sect leapt on the wolf's back, summoning his holy weapon.
He brandished the jade bow Mantuo, face full of rage and despair. Before the surrounding crowd
could react, he had shot three arrows straight for his uncle.

"My liege," Nangong Xu laughed. "You're quite the troublemaker." He dodged two of the arrows
and used Nangong Liu's body to block the third, cackling as Nangong Si flinched. "Do you still
want to play with your uncle, little boy?" he hissed, face still locked in a friendly smile. "We can
play."

"I'll kill you!" Nangong Si howled.

"Such a spoiled brat," Nangong Xu returned. He darted forward, slashing at his nephew, and the
surrounding crowd began to feel that his spiritual power was so great as to almost justify his desire
to be the sect leader. None of them dared stand against such an accomplished cultivator - had he
lived, he would have been awarded the title Grandmaster, they felt, and drew back in cowardice
rather than lend aid to Nangong Si.

Whether personally afraid of Nangong Xu or feeling that Rufeng Sect needed to sort out its internal
issues on its own, the crowd of cultivators quickly melted away. Only a very few people remained
standing around the spellbound disciples still caught by the Zhenlong Chess Formation. Mo Ran
glanced to the side, noting that Chu Wanning and Ye Wangxi had also remained, along with Jiang
Xi. That the leader of Lonemoon Sect had remained was unexpected; the richest man in the world
and the most proficient merchant wouldn't have been his first guess as to someone with a sense of
altruism.

"Sect Leader Jiang," came a trembling voice from behind an orange tree, startling Mo Ran even
further. He craned his neck to see who it was, and recognized the pale, trembling face of Li Wuxin.
As the leader of one of the lowest-ranked sects in the cultivation world, Li Wuxin wouldn't have
been his guess either, and indeed he looked terrified. "Shall we go together?"

"Prelate Xi," Sect Leader Jiang said decisively. "Assist me in rescuing the chess pieces. You'll be
responsible for bringing them behind us by sword."

"I understand," Li Wuxin said.

"Grandmaster Chu, Grandmaster Mo," Jiang Xi started, but Chu Wanning interrupted him.

"Mo Ran, go help Nangong Si," he said. "I'll bind the rift and then come to render assistance."

Contrary to the rift in Butterfly Town, this rift was blocked by the slow flow of hellfire and was not
disgorging untold numbers of fiends. The hellfire would cause damage if left unchecked, and it was
more within Chu Wanning's scope of action than Mo Ran's. The enspelled young cultivators
collapsed limply, and Jiang Xi scattered powder through the atmosphere to stabilize their energies.
He turned to Li Wuxin
"If you would," he said.

Nodding obediently, Li Wuxin summoned a heavy dark green sword. He chanted a brief
incantation, and it expanded suddenly into an instrument that could hold dozens. Jiang Xi deposited
the unconscious cultivators on it one by one, until only Xue Meng was left. The sword trembled,
and Li Wuxin shook his head. "It won't hold another one," he said. "I'll have to come back."

The qi flow was worsening, and the hellfire was spreading rapidly. The orange trees were starting
to catch fire, and the grove was looking increasingly less safe. Jiang Xi grimaced. "There's nothing
for it," he said, looking at Xue Meng in disgust. "I'll take the rest of the trash. You go ahead."

A blue light disgorged a silver sword at Jiang Xi's exhortation, materializing below his feet. It was
exquisitely decorated, but appeared incredibly delicate. Jiang Xi scooped up the unconscious Xue
Meng, glaring at him. The memory of how the young cultivator had shown him utter disrespect
played back behind his eyes, and the disdain was clearly written on his face. Li Wuxin hesitated,
wondering if perhaps Sect Leader Xiang might not accidentally drop Sisheng Peak's heir, and Jiang
Xi's ire focused on him instead.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped. "Get going. We need to get back here to help, or the entire
sect will be destroyed."

The two swords soared into the air, carrying the young cultivators out of harm's way. As they
cleared the area, Chu Wanning sealed the Heavenly Rift with a snap. Mo Ran faced off against
Nangong Xu, with Nangong Si at his side, and the two of them pressed Nangong Xu hard. He
struggled, and a look of revelation spread across his face.

"Ye Wangxi!" Nangong Xu shouted. "Do you really want to see your foster father murdered? Help
me!" Expression pained, Ye Wangxi clenched her fists and trembled. She couldn't move forward,
instead retreating step by step. "Are you really going to stand idly by?" Nangong Xu roared. "Have
you forgotten who saved you in the orange grove?"

"No," Ye Wangxi whispered, entire body shuddering. Weak woman though she was, she had been
raised as a man. She had learned the strength to persist, but the turmoil in her heart taxed her limits.
She felt as though her muscles would peel off her bones if she felt the slightest touch, and sweat
beaded her face.

Trump card foiled, Nangong Xu cursed silently. He faced off against his two opponents with even
more ferocity, but the saber in his hand shattered to pieces under the force of What The Hell. Mo
Ran smiled coldly at him.

"Is that all you got?" Mo Ran asked coldly. He raised his head to see that the rift in the heavens had
been sealed, and the hellfire was dissipating with the loss of the qi of the ghost realm. It drifted
between the stars, framing Chu Wanning as he descended majestically from the night sky with his
dark ceremonial robe flapping in the wind. His face was as pale as a porcelain god, handsome and
unparalleled.

Fury radiated from Chu Wanning, untempered by his beauty, and Nangong Xu gritted his teeth. He
would have had trouble facing against Mo Ran alone, he knew, but the three opponents together
were more than he could handle. He stepped back, buying himself enough time to slash his palm
open. He rubbed the curse mark on his forehead. "Still not here?" he snarled. "How long do you
plan to make me wait?"

With a suddenly elongated fingernail, Nangong Xu ripped at Luo Fenghua's body and tore out the
spirit core. He shoved it into his jacket and grabbed Nangong Liu in a single graceful motion. He
pulled both of them into the lake, aiming straight down, and Mo Ran froze. His weapon, No
Return, was at the bottom of the lake, but it was too late for Mo Ran to prevent Nangong Xu from
grabbing it.

The instant his hands touched it, another rift appeared in the sky. Chu Wanning frowned. "Another
heavenly rift?" he asked.

The breach was barely tall enough to accommodate a single person, and it emitted no Yin Energy.
Nangong Xu shifted his brother to one arm and sent a stream of qi through No Return with the
other, forcing his pursuers to halt. He leapt upwards, catching the extremely beautiful hand
suddenly extending from the rift. Chu Wanning's eyes widened.

"The Time and Space Gate of Life and Death!" he gasped, color draining from his face. Mo Ran
felt as though he had been doused in a bucket of cold water at those words.

The tear in the sky was the strongest of the three forbidden techniques, able to tear apart time and
space. It had been long-lost in the cultivation world, and yet it had now appeared before their very
eyes.

------

The gate slammed closed with Nangong Xu on the other side, leaving Nangong Si staring
helplessly. The fluttering edge of Nangong Xu’s robe floated down to the surface of the lake,
landing and then slowly sinking.

“How is this possible?” Mo Ran muttered. “Who alive can control the gate?”

In his previous life, Mo Ran had known of three forbidden techniques; Zhenlong Chess, Rebirth,
and the Gate of Life and Death. The first two techniques were difficult but not unheard-of; the last
was the subject of very few records. Mo Ran knew the most recent cultivator to master it had lived
thousands of years ago, opening the forbidden door to bring his beloved daughter back to him. She
had been caught in the rift and torn to pieces, and he had collapsed in grief.

The scroll containing the technique had been sealed – no one since had mastered the gate. Its very
existence had become the subject of myth and legend. Mo Ran had, in his previous life, obtained
the remnants of the scroll. He had used it to attempt a gate, sending a rabbit through the aperture,
but it had been turned inside out with its heart still beating. Undeterred, he had continued to try to
master the spell.

oh what the fuck

Many attempts had been made, and five or six attempts occurred in which something went terribly
wrong; parts of what Mo Ran sent would arrive twisted and malformed, or several hours after the
first parts. The cultivation world had praised his mastery of the gate, but Mo Ran had felt that he
had not become proficient in its use. He thought that the real Gate of Life and Death had eluded
him.

literally the first chapter blithely tells us that he had mastered this technique, author, this is
yet another reason this mess needed better editing

Darting forward, Chu Wanning caught the scrap of cloth before it sank. He examined it carefully
and let out a sigh of relief. “It wasn’t a complete gate,” he said. “As far as I can tell from the qi, the
gate warped space, but not time.” He looked at Mo Ran’s uncomprehending face. “The spell isn’t
the same as the forbidden technique. Nangong Xu was dragged to another place, but he’s still in
this time.”

Mo Ran was still anxious. “What if it’s the true forbidden technique?” he asked.

“If so, then it does more than tear apart space. It could transport the caster to another world.”

Mo Ran pressed his lips together; he hadn’t known much in his previous life, but he hadn’t put
much stock in the idea that the last Grandmaster to use the technique had brought his daughter over
from another world. Hearing Chu Wanning say it, he believed without hesitation, and the
ramifications sent a chill down his spine.

In the five years Chu Wanning had been gone, Mo Ran had read many of the classics. He had
come to the conclusion that he hadn’t seen true rebirth, thinking that it would mean going back to a
certain point before death. Master Huaizui’s spell had been completely different, returning a soul
from the underworld to its original body. He had further been forced to conclude that there were
multiple methods of rebirth, but his speculations had been able to go no farther.

Hearing Chu Wanning casually confirm the existence of other worlds, Mo Ran wondered if he had
been reborn through the Gate of Life and Death, sending him to another time at the behest of the
puppet master. The chill intensified as he became afraid that everything he had done served the
purposes of an evil man with an unknown plan.

Before Mo Ran could continue following his new train of thought, an earth-shaking explosion
washed over him. “We should go,” Chu Wanning said, and Mo Ran followed.

Rufeng Sect’s seventy-two cities were burning, the flames so intense that they soared dozens of
feet into the sky. It was visible even from the training fields, and Mo Ran suddenly wondered if
Xue Zhengyong and Madam Wang were safe.

The head of Sisheng Peak had rescued his wife from the inferno. He glanced over his shoulder as
they broke free, and came to a confused halt. The flames had shaped themselves into two
intertwined bodies. “What is that?” he gasped.

“It’s a scroll used to record memories,” Madam Wang said, far more widely read than her husband.
“It reveals them when ignited with heavenly calamity fire.”

Xue Zhengyong shook his head, face filled with pity. Rufeng Sect was burning, in the literal and
figurative senses – Nangong Xu had set all his memories to the enchanted scrolls, letting the sordid
truths come to light as he burned his former home to the ground. He pulled Madam Wang up onto
his iron fan, sending it into the air. “What does he hope to accomplish?” he muttered. “No one will
respect the sect now. Why is he still pushing?”

Those who had escaped the flames found themselves mesmerized by the memories etched In them,
playing out greater than life for all to see. One particular memory struck one of the spectators hard
– the gathered disciples of Jiangdong Hall turned to stare at Qi LIangli, their sect leader. Everyone
present could see her effigy, towering tall in flame, as she fucked Nangong Liu.

Mo Ran groaned, knowing what was coming, and he covered Chu Wanning’s eyes with his hand.
“Don’t look,” he said. His pure-hearted teacher shouldn’t have to look at such filth, he thought, and
he was overwhelmed with the desire to protect his teacher’s carnal innocence.

Although Chu Wanning let Mo Ran block his vision, his ears were still perfectly clear. He could
hear exactly what was going on, and the lack of sight made the sounds seem all the more vivid.
The noises were full of passion, and as Mo Ran heard more of them, he was torn between
protecting his teacher’s ears or protecting his eyes. Worse, the sounds of sex were arousing,
making him want nothing more than to leap atop Chu Wanning and ravish him where they stood.

Mo Ran knew that if he were to force Chu Wanning, his teacher would be unable to defend
himself. He tried to suppress the urges, but every breathy moan from the flames made them worse.
Unaware of his internal struggle, Chu Wanning simply stood rigidly. “How outrageous,” he said
indignantly. “She’s a married woman. Her husband had only just passed away, and this is what she
does? How shameful.”

your regular reminder of the puritanical attitudes toward the morality associated with sex in
this story – a widowed woman is looked down on for having consensual sex with another
man, although the man does not receive similar censure

Distantly, Mo Ran remembered that Qi Liangli was older than Nangong Liu, and that her husband
was Nangong Liu’s sworn brother. In the flames, Nangong Liu demanded Qi Liangli degrade
herself further and further, and she did everything he asked. Mo Ran shook his head, unable to
understand how they had perverted their pure familial relationship, and felt Chu Wanning’s
eyelashes twitch against his palm. The feather-light touch was distracting, and he thought the back
of Chu Wanning’s neck was glowing pink in the darkness.

Mo Ran blinked, heart pounding, and hastily looked away. He suddenly regretted that he hadn’t
known of Nangong Liu’s perversions in his previous life – he suddenly wished he had turned him
loose on Chu Wanning, to watch Chu Wanning come undone under the man’s filthy ministrations.
The words and phrases Nangong Liu had made Qi Liangli moan distorted in his mind to Chu
Wanning’s voice, and he realized that Chu Wanning had used some of those words when he had
been pretending to be Terri Fying.

As if Chu Wanning had burned him, Mo Ran let go and skittered back. Between the dirty show in
front of them and his memories behind his eyes, he knew that if he didn’t stop touching Chu
Wanning, he would do something he would regret. He had no faith in his ability to suppress his
love.

“What’s the matter with you,” Chu Wanning grated, looking over his shoulder, but his cheeks were
stained red no matter how cold he tried to make his expression.

“Nothing,” Mo Ran muttered.

In the flames, Nangong Liu was asking Qi Liangli if she had discussed a certain matter with the
elders of her sect. She looked at him with a soft smile and asked what he meant, and his face
tightened. “You said you’d incorporate Jiangdong Hall into Rufeng Sect,” he reminded her.

“Don’t be so impatient,” she told him. “I’ve only been sect leader for a short while. It will take
time.” Seeing his unhappy expression, she pressed her lips to his fingertips. “It wasn’t easy to
obtain this position. Since you’re not going to marry me, this must be done more slowly.”

“Marriage isn’t just a matter of personal desire,” Nangong Liu said. “Imagine the rumors.” He
shook his head. “You know how I get. It wouldn’t end well.”

“Bullshit,” Qi Liangli said. “Do you remember how my husband died?”

“Okay, okay, calm down.”

“How am I supposed to stay calm?” she hissed. “You married that bitch Rong Yan. Do you realize
how hard it was to kill both of them and make it look like natural causes? You’re supposed to
marry me now, not let that slut Rong Yan’s son succeed you as sect leader.” She tossed her hair
arrogantly. “It doesn’t matter that we’ve been married before. Not only will I marry you, I’ll bear
you eight more children. It’s either me or that slut’s child, Liu. Pick one.”

The closest thing to a sympathetic female character so far is either Madam Wang – explicitly
textually ineffectual, has no character development, and only exists to be Useful to The Men –
or Ye Wangxi, explicitly depicted as The Pinnacle Of Masculinity for the majority of her
story so far and who, as soon as she was revealed to be a woman, lost every iota of agency and
effectiveness; she has done nothing but freeze reactively since the reader learned of her actual
gender. It’s pretty fucked up.

------

Backed into a corner, Nangong Liu could only try to coax his lover. “We should stick to the
agreement,” he said. “You should use your authority as sect leader to place Jiangdong Hall under
Rufeng Sect’s administration, and then later –“

“No,” Qi Liangli said, eyes flashing. “That’s what you said before, and then you turned around and
married Rong Yan. I won’t have it, not again.” Nangong Liu hesitated, and she became angrier.
“How long are you going to wait! I killed my husband and your wife, and you still do nothing!”

Xue Zhengyong turned to his wife. “Do you think that’s true?” he asked quietly, looking around at
the crowd. Many of the disciples of Jiangdong Hall were the former allies of the late sect leader,
and his two surviving brothers were also present.

Before Xue Zhengyong finished speaking, Qi Liangli’s brothers-in-law rounded on her

accusatorily. “You killed him? You snake! He treated you well, and this is how you repay him!
Return my brother’s life!”

Further memories were unveiled in the flames, each more upsetting than the last. Rufeng Sect had
had shady dealings not only internally, but with every other sect in the upper cultivation world.
Countless well-respected cultivators had been entangled in its schemes and sworn to secrecy – not
only Jiangdong Hall but Wubei Temple, Huohuang Pavilion, Bitan Manor and even the elegant
Taxue Palace of Kunlun were exposed and shamed for the misdeeds of their high-level disciples
and elders.

Xue Zhengyong found himself watching the memory of a collusion between Nangong Liu and the
former head of the Wubei Temple, Tian Chan, regarding the Spiritual Mountain Competition.
“Winning is extremely important,” a young Nangong Liu was saying. “Father originally thought I
was lacking, and if I lose to my brother during the competition, I’m afraid he’ll replace me as heir.”

“Benefactor Nangong, there is no need to panic. You've memorized all the scrolls."

"I know."

"Then tomorrow you just need to put your strength into using those techniques. Your brother will
not be able to defeat you."

"Sir, I don't follow," Nangong Liu said.

"That spell scroll is a secret technique created by your brother," said Master Tian Chan. "He has
been practicing diligently with it in order to win the competition."

"But how will I beat him with his own technique?"

"He is proud and aloof," said Master Tian Chan. "Rather than cooperate with others, he trained in
solitude. If he claims he created this technique, who would believe him? You, Benefactor
Nangong, are different. I and the Fourth Palace Master of Taxue Palace will serve as your
witnesses to say that you have developed the technique, and your brother's reputation will be
forever sullied." He smiled calmly. "After that, no one will ever trust him again. It won't matter
whether or not he wins the competition."

"I see," Nangong Liu said, eyes wide. He cupped his fist in his hand respectfully. "Thank you for
your wise advice, sir. I will not disappoint you after I succeed to my father's position. Rufeng Sect
and Wubei Temple will be allies for centuries."

The burning of Rufeng Sect with its memories on display drew cultivators and commoners alike to
the spectacle, baring all of the sect's dirty laundry. Xue Zhengyong suddenly knew why Nangong
Xu had said he would destroy their hearts - he had meant the reputation of Rufeng Sect, hiding
within it in plain sight to play the long game of destroying not only the sect and its long history but
every person he had hated. He had collected dirt on everyone who had betrayed or slandered him
for their own benefit, with his brother as the guest of honor.

The act of revenge had been carefully planned, the sect leaders and elders torn down one by one.
Illuminated by the flickering fire, Chu Wanning suddenly remembered a scene from Luo
Xianxian's memory years before - a young man from Linyi, heart dead at the age of twenty and
covered in blood, who had never been treated fairly. Chu Wanning remembered that the man had
been schemed against and framed as a thief, and Nangong Xu had laughed at Jincheng Lake to say
that he was a ghost who had cralwed out of hell. He saw the chaos and panic around him, the
scattering monkeys not limited to Rufeng Sect. Nangong Xu had used his life as fuel to ignite his
fire of vengeance.

An explosion sounded from the seventh city of Rufeng Sect - a beam of violet light pierced the sky
above Shadow City. Ye Wangxi darted forward, frowning, and raised her sword. Nangong Si
grabbed her and yanked her back, face pale and body wavering. He held her tightly. "Don't," he
said hoarsely.

"The evil spirits imprisoned under the Golden Drum Tower are about to escape," she protested.
"There are thousands, held captive for hundreds of years. If they get out..." Her voice trailed off.

"What can you do to help?" Nangong Si said. "You've done enough for Rufeng Sect." He let go of
her, raising his hand further as if to wipe the dust from her face, but lowered it without touching
her. "Stop wasting your energy. The only way to stabilize the prison is with the sect leader and ten
elders. You would only get yourself killed."

"Even if I risked my life, I couldn't just watch and do nothing. Thousands of demons are going to
escape and the sect will be their first target," Ye Wangxi protested.

"You think the sect won't be a target even if the Golden Drum Tower remains intact?" Nangong Si
said, a bleak smile twisting his bloodstained mouth. "The sect is finished." He squeezed his eyes
shut, trembling. "I don't want anyone else to die for this sect. It's not worth it."

Further rumbling sounded from the direction of the Shadow City. Thousands of streams of bright
white light radiated from the Golden Drum Tower, disappearing into the night, and Ye Wangxi
paled further. The earth shook, the ground underneath their feet starting to crack. A great demon
suppressed for over a century in the pagoda emerged, gleaming with blood-red light in the shape of
a massive fish with a lotus-blossom tail. The giant fish let out an earth-shattering roar as it shot
toward the East Sea.
Those too close to the pagoda were knocked into the flames, burning to ash before they could
react. The watching cultivators flinched, horrified, as they realized it was one of the ancient vicious
beasts allegedly subdued by the founder of Rufeng Sect, Nangong Changying. Many had doubted
that the rumors had been true, that one of the leviathan of East China Sea had been imprisoned, but
the appearance of the fiend could not be denied. Had it turned to fight instead of fleeing, Xue
Zhengyong knew, the death toll would have been staggering - but the danger was not past.

Knowing that the flight of the demon had fanned the flames higher, Xue Zhengyong shouted
toward his fellow cultivators. "Run! All of you run!" He took Madam Wang on his steel fan,
moving away from the advancing inferno, and the rest of the crowd began to follow suit. Many did
not escape - Qi Liangli and her elders were engulfed by the fire, and Nangong Si leapt on top of the
anxious Naobaijin. He pulled Ye Wangxi up after him, then turned to Chu Wanning.
"Grandmaster," he started.

"I'll take him," Mo Ran said immediately.

The flames roared closer, and Nangong Si cursed before urging Naobaijin to run. Trees fell around
them, the wind redolent with the scent of ash and citrus. Mo Ran dragged Chu Wanning onto his
sword, urging it higher into the air and away from the flames. Behind them, Rufeng Sect's
heavenly palace - glorious for centuries - fell to ash in the midst of the billowing fire.

all of y'all going higher are going right into the smoke and you're going to be looking ARDS-y
in a bit as you start feeling the effects of the smoke inhalation

------

Half of the city of Linyi burned in the flames, fanned by the demon's flight. Countless cultivators
burned to death trying to escape the flames. Towns and villages close to the sect were also caught
in the inferno, but they couldn't run quickly enough. Some of the cultivators were able to collect
some of the commoners on their swords as they fled, but many had to be abandoned to burn. Xue
Zhengyong wept as he couldn't save them all, as he saw the hope extinguished on the faces below.

"So many dead," he cried, and Madam Wang was no better. She clutched two children in her arms
who had lost their parents, praying that Mo Ran and Chu Wanning were also safe, praying that her
son was safe.

Not far away, Jiang Xi still carried the unconscious Xue Meng. The fire illuminated his slack face,
and Jiang Xi glared at him in disgust. His gorgeous sword was still light under his feet, but it was
burdened by the extra weight, and he was tempted many times to simply drop the rude brat. Only
the memory of Madam Wang's pleading eyes saved her son's life.

Despite his iron fan reaching the limit of the weight it could carry, Xue Zhengyong still tried to
pick up another child. The fan shuddered and threatened to fall, the child's hand sliding out of his
grasp. He flinched, curling up in despair, and a silvery-red light flashed at the edge of his vision.
The child that had slipped away was pulled onto Jiang Xi's delicate sword. Its gorgeous lines
blurred as it shook under his feet, and Jiang Xi kicked it petulantly. "Stop bitching," he told it.

Xuehuang stilled, but it seemed to struggle as Jiang Xi brought it alongside Xue Zhengyong's iron
fan. Its slender hilt shook faintly under his feet. He stared at Sisheng Peak's sect leader
contemptuously.

"You're a man," he said. "Stop whining about what you can't do."

"Sir," Madam Wang started, and he glared at her.

"Do you have a complaint?" Jiang Xi sneered, handsome face distorted by his hatred. "If you
hadn't abandoned us for him, you wouldn't have become so weak. You can't even fly on your own
sword. You're the reason your husband can't carry another person." Stung, Madam Wang lowered
her gaze.

In the other direction, farther away, Mo Ran had broadened his sword as much as he could. He had
collected civilians from the nearby villages, and they crowded the blade. Tears and trembling
reflected the sea of flames, glittering on their faces and in their eyes. Knowing that he could save
no more, Mo Ran kept his gaze resolutely turned away from the ground and the hopeless citizens
below.

"Sir," he said finally. "The sea is up ahead. Where should we go?"

"Flying Flower Island," Chu Wanning said decisively. "Do you know where it is?"

"Not exactly," Mo Ran said. "But I can find it." He glanced over his shoulder. "Sir, please keep
watch on our passengers. I'm afraid someone might fall."

It took several hours to find the island on the sea's clear blue surface. It was a ring-shaped
archipelago, under the command of Rufeng Sect. Desolate and with very few people, it was home
to a large family of fishermen. They had seen the inferno in the distance, anxious at not knowing
what had happened and afraid that the fire would reach them across the waves. When dawn broke,
a long sword carrying many people landed on the wet beach.

The tall, handsome cultivator in the lead was covered in bloodstains. The fishermen, ordinary
citizens with very little experience dealing with cultivators, were afraid. They started to back away,
whispering to each other in consternation. "Did you come from Linyi?" someone asked, and
another bravely stepped forward to ask if they were from Rufeng Sect.

"Sisheng Peak," Mo Ran said, handing the infant in his arms to Chu Wanning. "These people are
all residents of Linyi. It's on fire." He shivered. "We couldn't take any more. No more than
these." The fisherman's blank look broke him out of his daze, and he realized that the residents of
the island had no idea what had happened. "I'll explain in more detail as I can," he said. "Can you
help these people find water and food?"

Some of the children were panic-stricken, and the residents of Flying Flower Island broke out of
their shock. In short order, they had rounded up the survivors, bringing tea and fortifying snacks,
and Mo Ran explained what had happened. The islanders stared at the smoky horizon, unable to
absorb the information that their guardians, the greatest sect of the upper cultivation world, had
burned to the ground. "What about Sect Leader Nangong?" someone asked.

"He was," Mo Ran started, and then paused. "He was given Lingchi fruit and kidnapped. He's not
dead, but he can't help us."

"Lingchi fruit?" asked the islander.

Chu Wanning watched as Mo Ran tried to calm the islanders, face chilly. He longed to offer aid
and comfort, but he knew that he would be unable to reassure anyone. He was too stern and cold to
be of any use. Although he had pretty eyes, his proud and aloof personality meant that he was much
like the thorn on a rose - full of pride and grating to those who were unable to endure his natural
arrogance. Despite his physical beauty, he was unpopular.

------
Mo Ran ruffled Chu Wanning's hair with a calm and collected expression. He had been distressed
by the sight of the burning city, but Chu Wanning brought his mood up. Mo Ran found him
equally handsome no matter what expression he wore. "You've spoken with everyone?" Chu
Wanning asked.

"It's settled."

"It'll take four or five days for the flames to die down," Chu Wanning said, looking at the light on
the horizon. "We'll have to stay here in the meantime, and there isn't much space."

"The village chief says we'll fit," Mo Ran said. He had arranged all the details, interacting with the
villagers as naturally as he had those of Cool Jade Village when they had helped harvest rice. Chu
Wanning looked at him in silence for a moment, not knowing how to feel about Mo Ran's easy
way with others. He nodded finally.

"Thank you for arranging it," he said.

Mo Ran’s eyes were bright with tears. "What else was I going to do?" he asked.

With his face in profile, Chu Wanning thought Mo Ran resembled a willow leaf - peerlessly
handsome and sharp-edged, but with soft eyes. He was so lost in thought staring at Mo Ran's face
that he didn't notice his student lift his hand and stuff his forefinger into Chu Wanning's mouth.
The taste of rice candy exploded on his tongue, and Chu Wanning flinched back. "What are you
doing?"

The quick, intimate contact was enough to make his spine itch, and Mo Ran simply smiled at him.
"Sugar." Chu Wanning grunted and turned away, looking back at the inferno on the horizon. He
couldn't help but feel that the events occurring that day would be felt for a long time to come.

Despite having had no sleep, Mo Ran found himself wide awake as the day went on. He saw the
refugees settled on Flying Flower Island, but he was too restless to sit still. He walked to the edge
of the beach alone, finding the tide going out, and saw a beach that would be covered when the tide
came in again. He climbed down to it, taking off his shoes to walk barefoot through the wet sand,
and thought about the horrors of the previous night.

The sand between his toes made him wonder why Nangong Xu had eschewed shoes even when it
was cold, and he made himself face the thought that the two of them were more similar than he
wanted to admit. They had both been treated badly and betrayed by others, and Mo Ran could
understand why Nangong Xu had wanted to destroy the sect that had hurt him. Being ill-treated by
strangers was terrible, Mo Ran thought, but betrayal by those one loved was the worst pain he
could imagine.

Nangong Xu, he felt, had done nothing wrong - he had been impulsive and hotblooded, and he
hadn't wanted to cooperate with others, for which he had had his technique stolen by his older
brother. He had never been able to recover from the blow to his reputation. Mo Ran knew that the
world would look very different, when the fallout from Nangong Xu's destruction of Rufeng Sect
had settled, and perhaps only Mo Weiyu would have sympathy for the madman who had
orchestrated it.

He wondered if Nangong Xu had, in his youth, practiced the sword until exhausted among the
orange trees, pausing only to pluck a fresh, sweet orange and consume its fruit. He might have
brought a fruit back for his lazy older brother, Mo Ran thought, and wondered whether he had ever
buried himself in a scroll to meditate or dip a brush in ink to write down his thoughts. He wouldn't
have known that all of his hard work would turn to dust and shit, and Mo Ran felt the sting of
understanding.

The sea breeze blew against his face and Mo Ran closed his eyes. Sunlight shone red against his
closed eyelids, and he thought about the sign on Xu Shuanglin's courtyard - the platitude regarding
drinking the water of the underworld and forgetting one's mortal life. Had Nangong Xu chosen
those words on a whim, he thought, or had he wanted to forget his past indignity and pain and let it
fade into nothing. He had gone to great effort to drag Luo Fenghua's corpse out of hell, Mo Ran
remembered, and wondered why he had done it; certainly not to help Nangong Liu break the curse.

The spatial rift, the Zhenglong Chess Formation, the rebirth techniques, and the hand that had
come out of the rift were all connected, Mo Ran felt, and he knew there was something still very
wrong. He furrowed his brows, deep in thought, and suddenly remembered a past incident.

At Jincheng Lake, when the dragon had died, he had told Mo Ran that the rebirth technique and
the Zhenlong Chess Formation had been practiced by the puppet master. He had made no mention
of the spatial gate. Nangong Xu, Mo Ran felt, cared only about those two techniques; he was
trying to reincarnate someone, and the only two possibilities Mo Ran felt were worth considering
were Rong Yan and Luo Fenghua. He must have been in love with Rong Yan, Mo Ran realized,
and yet she had married his brother, but that didn't mean he would have tried to revive her. Not, Mo
Ran felt, after he had tried to kill her only son.

No, Mo Ran knew, the only possible person Nangong Xu could have wanted to revive was Luo
Fenghua. He watched the sun continuing to rise in the east, a brilliant path painted across the
waves. The tide rose, and even in daylight he could see Linyi City burning and the smoke hanging
over the horizon like a pall. Water lapped around his toes, and he made as if to return to the village.
Before he could take a single step, he saw Chu Wanning approaching.

His teacher held his socks and shoes in one hand, glaring at him. "Why are you barefoot?" Chu
Wanning asked, thrusting them toward him. "It's too cold for that."

Mo Ran looked down at his muddy feet and then obediently followed Chu Wanning to the top of
the sandy slope. He cleaned his feet as best he could and then re-donned his shoes. He felt a
sudden sense of relief, that even though he couldn't have Chu Wanning in the way that he wanted,
his teacher still cared enough about him to make him keep his feet warm.

"What do you think about the sect?" Chu Wanning asked, inscrutable.

"It's complicated," Mo Ran hedged, not wanting to share his thoughts until he had figured out
something more concrete.

"I suppose you're right," Chu Wanning said. His face was tinged with melancholy as he watched
Mo Ran put his shoes on, and then he turned his gaze to the vast ocean and the climbing sun.
"Wherever the rift pulled Xu Shuanglin, it's not going to be easy to find him. If he doesn't want to
be found, it could take years."

"He won't stay hidden for years," Mo Ran said, shaking his head. "He'll make his move soon."

"Why do you say that?"

Mo Ran debated with himself for a moment and then spilled his guts to Chu Wanning, telling him
what conclusions he had reached. "Luo Fenghua's corpse wasn't his real body," he finished. "It was
rebuilt in the ghost realm, and will quickly decay in the mortal world since it's no longer being
supported by Yin energy. It will be less than a year before it will be unusable for anything, so he'll
have to act before then."
Chu Wanning regarded him silently. He himself wouldn't have made such a bold theory, preferring
to gather as much information as possible before coming to an inescapably correct conclusion, but
he couldn't deny Mo Ran's instincts. "What about the hand?" he asked finally. "The one that pulled
him into the rift."

"I don't know," Mo Ran said, shaking his head. "I don't know enough about the technique." He had
not, strictly speaking, told the truth, but despite his determination not to lie to his teacher, there
were still some things he didn't feel he could admit. He thought he had known very few peaceful
days across both of his lifetimes, and he wanted to preserve as many of them as he could. Even so,
he felt misgivings about not sharing his insight, and he knew that there wouldn't be a quick answer
to the owner of the hand.

There had to be an explanation for Nangong Xu being able to gather his five spirits so quickly, and
Mo Ran thought that he had most likely been bewitched and coached by someone else. He didn't
think Nangong Xu would have been able to come up with the method for reviving Luo Fenghua
without help. He also remembered the White Chess Piece back at Jincheng Lake flat-out telling
them that someone else knew the forbidden techniques, and he could only conclude that they were
people not of this world who had invaded it.

The only hope that Mo Ran had was that Nangong Xu didn't know that Mo Ran himself had been
reborn, or he would have been exposed while Rufeng Sect was burning. If Mo Ran's secret past
had been stolen and exposed, he was sure that Chu Wanning would reject him outright, and he
would never be able to recover. Either Nangong Xu couldn't expose Mo Ran's secrets for reasons
unknown, he reasoned, or he really didn't know that Mo Ran had been reborn.

Regardless of which it was, Mo Ran knew he was at a disadvantage. He didn't have enough
information, and it seemed as if all he could do was wait for the metaphorical blade to pierce his
spine. He pursed his lips, trying and failing to figure out what to do. Hatred and self-interest had
served him poorly in his previous life, and a desire to protect those he loved in this life had fallen
far short of his desires. He wanted to retain the warmth of the people he loved, but he didn't know
if he would be enough.

As Mo Ran was lost in thought, one of the fishermen hurriedly approached. "Honored cultivators,"
he shouted. "Something terrible has happened!"

Mo Ran leapt to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"The island head went out to see a few days ago, and she has just returned. She is very upset with
what you've done, she's chased everyone out of the village!" Tears gathered in his eyes as he spoke,
his kind heart pained by the actions of the island head. "It's so cold and she won't even let us
provide blankets. She - she even said -" He broke off.

"What?" Chu Wanning said, also climbing to his feet.

"She said that the people from Linyi ate our food and drank our water, and that if they didn't pay
for it, she would take it out of them in labor. She wants to make them slaves!"

Before the fisherman could finish speaking, Chu Wanning started running furiously to the heart of
the island village.

and here we go again with the women with agency being Bad People

------
Although Flying Flower Island was clearly not well off, the island head was clearly rich. She was
dressed in a gold-patterned satin gown, hair trimmed with emeralds, and with gold and pearl
jewelry. Over a century old, she was bloated and wrinkled, and was very obviously hiding her lack
of looks in extravagant finery. Not even the village chief dared interrupt her as she spoke, and she
was sitting in a chair resembling a throne when the cultivators arrived.

"Why did you accept them?" she asked, staring around at the refugees from under greasily made-
up eyelids. "They have paid for nothing, so how could you give them both food and lodging?"

while the narrative doesn’t shy away from Beautiful Evil People, every person specifically
described as not physically attractive has no redeeming qualities and it’s grating

"We provided them with the leftovers, Madam Sun," the village chief stammered.

"They still have to pay for it," she snorted. "This isn't free. Money doesn't grow on trees. The
harvest this year wasn't good, and yet you squander the charity I provided for you on the
undeserving?"

"Third Young Madam, you are right," the village chief said with an apologetic smile. "But how
can we turn away those who are clearly in need?"

"There is no benefit in it for us," said the Third Young Madam, glaring. "Did you track how much
each person ate?"

With no further recourse, the village chief was forced to hand over his accounting booklet. Madam
Sun snatched it, looking through it as the bracelets on her wrists jangled discordantly. "Yes," she
said, taking out another book and looking back and forth. "Just as I thought. You gave them far too
much. We'll have to charge them for the replacements. I paid three gold for one vat of water from
Linyi, and will generously only charge them four gold for the replacement of the one they drank."
She eyed one of the village women. "Sister Zhang."

"Yes, my lady?"

"You'll have to replace the steamed buns they ate." Madam Sun smiled. "Or, if you prefer, you may
pay me two gold, ninety silver, and a single copper." She tapped a finger on her lips. "They also
rented my room for an hour, for which I will only charge 70 coppers per person." She glanced
around. "How many are there?"

"I count forty-nine, Third Young Madam," said the village chief, and her eyes narrowed.

"I thought you said fifty-one," she snapped. "Where are the other two?"

"Here," said Chu Wanning coldly. He exuded an aura of frost, although he wore deep white rather
than his customary white, and his arrogant eyes were as sharp as a blade.

Despite being a civilian, Third Madame Sun was unafraid of cultivators. She had spent most of her
life working, and she wasn’t about to let someone else push her around. She lifted her chin. “So
you’re a cultivator. You’re the one who saved all these people, aren’t you? Then you can settle
their bills.”

“Third Madame Sun,” whispered the village chief. “They’re not part of Rufeng Sect. They’re from
Sisheng Peak.”

“I don’t care which sect it is,” Madame Sun said. “They have money, don’t they?”
With a look at the huddled, shivering refugees, Chu Wanning raised a nonchalant hand. A redgold
barrier formed over them, generating warmth. He turned back to the island head. “And you wanted
how much?”

“Two gold, ninety-three silver, and four hundred thirty copper.”

Although it galled Chu Wanning to give in to Madame Sun’s unreasonable demands, Chu Wanning
knew that the refugees had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t afford to offend her, lest she take it out
on them. Pale with infuriated indignation, he took out his purse and threw it at her feet. “That holds
about eighty gold,” he said. “We’ll be here for a week. This should cover it.”

“I don’t think so,” said Madame Sun. “It’s enough for three days at most. Not including the cost of
food.”

Chu Wanning started forward, glaring. “You!”

“If you’re not convinced, honored cultivator, I can settle your mind at ease. I will provide an
itemized bill for you to review at your leisure.”

Mo Ran arrived to assist, but he found to his chagrin that he didn’t have much money with him
either. According to Madame Sun’s mental calculations, she would allow them to stay no more
than four days. She bowed precisely and politely at them, giving them a cold smile.

“If you have no further funds at the end of your four-day stay, I’ll kick them all out whether or not
the fire has been extinguished.”

A messenger crabapple went into the river that night, Chu Wanning hoping to get in touch with
Xue Zhengyong. He returned to his room, dispirited. It was even cruder than the rooms in the
village, and he had to share it with Mo Ran. Although the lights were on, nobody was home. No
one could tell Chu Wanning where his disciple had gone. He removed his outer robe and poured a
bucket of hot water to start cleaning off the ashes and blood, when the door opened. “You’re late,”
he said, without looking up.

A bamboo lunchbox was thrust into his field of vision. “I brought you dinner, sir.” Mo Ran’s face
was embarrassed when Chu Wanning looked up. “Steamed buns, fish soup, and meat. No dessert.
That lousy woman has been keeping a close eye on things, so no one dared donate anything. I had
to trade her my silver dagger for this much.”

“That’s much too nice for the likes of her,” Chu Wanning said, vexed. “It’s embedded with spirit
stones and worth far more than a lunchbox.”

“Oh, I got a box for everyone, sir. And I made sure they were all delivered before I brought yours
back.” Mo Ran smiled brightly. “So you don’t have to worry about anyone else going without.
Make sure you eat your fair share, sir.”

Having tried to go without food to keep costs down, Chu Wanning was starving. He accepted the
box, making his way through its contents with more enthusiasm than the quality of the food
warranted; Madame Sun, he thought, had cut corners wherever she could. As he ate, Mo Ran
started to eye the steaming bucket.

“Doing laundry, sir?” he said brightly. At Chu Wanning’s nod, Mo Ran picked up the dirtied robe.
“I’ll help, sir.”

“No need,” Chu Wanning said.

“Don’t worry about it, sir,” said Mo Ran. “I was about to do the wash myself, and it’s no trouble to
add this.” He picked up a few pieces of clothing from the bed before collecting the bucket and
leaving. The moonlight was bright in the courtyard, and Mo Ran wondered if his uncle’s family
was even still alive, and where Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi would go. He looked to the horizon,
where the flames still burned.

Song Qiutong and the man he had hated in his previous life, the person for whom he had
slaughtered the entire Rufeng Sect, both were probably drowned in the sea of fire. He sighed and
tried not to think about it, setting his attention to washing clothes instead. He knew his teacher was
meticulous when it came to things he cared about, such as making constructs or writing scrolls, but
when it came to work that Chu Wanning considered beneath him – up to and including all
domestic chores and self-care – he was slapdash at best.

If Mo Ran didn’t check bags or sleeves before immersing the clothes in water, he knew something
valuable would be ruined. Sure enough, Chu Wanning’s sleeves were packed full. He had a
crabapple handkerchief, various pills, and some of the milk candy Mo Ran had bought for him in
Cool Jade Village. Feeling the sleeves were still heavier than they should have been, Mo Ran kept
going. An explosive talisman emerged, and he frowned; it wasn’t likely that such a spell would
spontaneously ignite, but it still seemed reckless to just stuff it in a sleeve.

The little ink dragon’s talisman had been crammed into the sleeve as well, along with another
detonation talisman, a freezing spell, and a soul-suppression spell. Mo Ran sighed. If any of them
had gotten wet, they would have been ruined and wasted. Clearly, he thought, the solution was to
do all of Chu Wanning’s laundry himself, to keep his possessions intact.

He had just nodded to himself when something small fell out of the depths of the pockets. Mo Ran
sighed again and picked it up, assuming it was yet another magical talisman, but it was an old
brocade cloth embroidered with acacia flowers. The petals had faded, and he was sure he had seen
it somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He picked up the cloth, finding it to be a small bag, and he
searched his memory for what it could be.

Unable to recall, he opened it in case it contained something else dangerous. The bag contained a
strand of hair – no, he realized, looking more closely. Two locks of hair had been braided into a
single coil. He blinked, startled, and the memory exploded behind his eyes like lightning. The jade
maidens and golden youths in Butterfly Town’s Ghost Wedding had made this pouch when he and
Chu Wanning had been married – two lone souls, never separated.

“Why does he still have this?” Mo Ran murmured, the blood roaring in his ears. “How is it
possible?” He clutched the bag, heart spinning between surprise and horror, disbelief and
bewilderment, ecstasy and sorrow. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why his teacher had
kept the wedding pouch.

------

“Sir, you left some talismans in your robe,” Mo Ran said, walking in just as Chu Wanning was
eating his last bun. He put the items on the bed, too embarrassed to ask about the silk sachet and
leaving before Chu Wanning could ask him any questions. He didn’t want to embarrass his teacher
by saying the wrong thing.

Leaning on the door from the outside, Mo Ran had a sudden audacious thought – was it possible
that Chu Wanning was in love with him? He shook his head. It wasn’t possible, he was sure of it,
because his teacher wasn’t interested in men and clearly wasn’t interested in Mo Ran. There was
another perfectly reasonable explanation, Mo Ran reasoned, such as his teacher simply forgetting
to throw it away.
Mo Ran returned to washing the clothes in the bucket, continuing long after they were clean and
until the water was as cold as the air around him. His heart grew hotter and hotter as he pondered
the question of the sachet, until finally he looked at the paper covering the window. It glowed
golden with candlelight, flickering as the flame danced, and Mo Ran’s heart fluttered along with it.

The hope that Chu Wanning liked him wouldn’t have bothered the rough, thick-skinned the Evil
Overlord, but the new Mo Ran blushed at the thought, a raging thirst that could only be slaked by
Chu Wanning winding deep into his soul. He started to reprimand himself for his improper
thoughts, but the sight of the sachet stopped him – it added to the burning in his heart, and all the
respect he had for his teacher couldn’t quench it.

Inside the room, Chu Wanning put down the last steamed bun instead of biting into it. Wanting to
clean his hands, he searched through the pile of items Mo Ran had returned for his handkerchief.
He hadn’t realized that he hadn’t removed all of his possessions – or, in fact, any of them – from
his sleeves before starting to wash his clothes, and the red rope peeking out from underneath the
pile of talismans caught him by surprise. He froze, wanting to pull it out but afraid to see it, and
finally he withdrew his hand.

The sachet from the wedding wasn’t in his shirt, Chu Wanning found, and his face fell. He
remembered why it had been in with the rest of his possessions; the gift robe from Xue Zhengyong
had oddly angled pockets, and he hadn’t wanted to lose it. He slowly turned to the pile of items
again, noticing that the red string was at the very bottom, as if Mo Ran had been trying to hide it
and deny that he had seen anything at all.

Holding his breath, Chu Wanning tugged on the red thread. He tried to will it to be attached to a
talisman, but the brocade pouch slid out from under the pile. He opened it, looking at the two
strands of inky black hair, and he crumpled in on himself as he realized that Mo Ran had seen his
secret treasure. Not only had he seen it, he had buried it at the bottom of Chu Wanning’s
possessions as if to deny he knew of its existence.

A wave of dizziness washed over Chu Wanning and his face burned hot. He knew Mo Ran was in
love with Shi Mei, that he had no desire for Chu Wanning, and he hoped desperately that Mo Ran
hadn’t figured out Chu Wanning was in love with him. His pride would be unable to bear it. At the
advanced age of thirty-two, he was too old for a boy’s crush, too old to find love and fulfillment.
He had spent his best years alone and he was used to it – trying for a relationship now, when it was
too late, would only lead to failure.

Putting the bag away, Chu Wanning paced the room. He stopped in front of the bronze mirror,
peering at his reflection. The mirror was covered in a thick layer of dust, and he raised a hand to
wipe it away. An imperfect face emerged from the dirt, a scratch in the mirror marring the corner
of his eye. Chu Wanning nodded; he knew how unattractive he was, and the mirror only confirmed
it.

As he well knew, Mo Ran liked pretty young men, slender and light. Chu Wanning’s face was as
yet unlined, but he couldn’t hide the heaviness that came with age. He was cold and
unapproachable, and it wasn’t appropriate to broach the topic of a relationship with his own
disciple. Not only Mo Ran would be shamed, but all of Sisheng Peak’s reputation would suffer.

The past five years had also made Shi Mei even more beautiful, Chu Wanning thought, enhancing
his elegance and attractiveness. In contrast, the person in the mirror was hostile and arrogant.
There was no contest as to who Mo Ran would choose, if offered the opportunity. If he could turn
back time, perhaps the twenty-year-old Chu Wanning would have the passion to boldly confess his
feelings, but he was no longer a young man.
Only his vigilance and harsh attitude remained, his savage face that would make children cry, and
he was unworthy of the splendor that was Mo Ran. Chu Wanning shook his head. Better to remain
safely in the shadows and hide his emotions; he couldn’t be rejected if he didn’t reach out, and he
didn’t want to lose Mo Ran from his life entirely.

I am beyond sick of how many tens of thousands of words have been wasted on chu
wanning’s whining, particularly when 90% of what he dislikes about himself are things that
he absolutely has the power to change, except that he’d rather wallow in self-pity than do
something, the coward

A creaking noise came from behind him, and Chu Wanning saw Mo Ran’s reflection in the bronze
mirror as he carried a wooden bucket into the house. The mirror was still streaked with grime, and
Chu Wanning couldn’t see Mo Ran’s tender expression or the love in his eyes. His heart sped up
regardless, and – trying to hide his reaction – he re-tied his hair slowly and deliberately. He felt
very clever in clenching the ribbon between his teeth to avoid greeting his student.

A hand touched the back of his ear unexpectedly, and Chu Wanning trembled. A bolt of heat shot
through him at the simple contact, headed straight to his groin, and he knew that if he looked up,
Mo Ran would be able to tell that he was blushing. “Are you done with the washing?” he mumbled
around the ribbon, trying to sound calm.

“Yes,” Mo Ran said, voice low and hoarse. He was too close, and Chu Wanning yearned for him.
“Sir,” Mo Ran continued. “Just now, uh.” Maddeningly, he stopped talking.

Chu Wanning bit down on the ribbon, heart feeling as though it had stopped entirely, and tried not
to ask Mo Ran what he had stopped himself from saying. His student cleared his throat once or
twice, but no words came out. Chu Wanning made himself keep working on his hair, but his hands
were clumsy.

“It’s nothing,” Mo Ran finally said. “I mean, it’s late, and you’re tying up your hair. Are you going
out?”

“No,” Chu Wanning said, trying to figure out if Mo Ran sounded jealous. “Just doing the dishes.”

“I’ll help,” Mo Ran said immediately.

“I don’t need your help,” Chu Wanning retorted. He wanted to use the soapy water as a barrier to
his inappropriate desire.

“You’re too clumsy, sir,” Mo Ran said. “You’ll break them.” He stopped, as if he knew he had
gone too far, and backtracked. “It’s cold out,” he said instead. “Take some warm water with you.”

Mo Ran watched Chu Wanning grunt acknowledgement, entranced by the motion of his Adam’s
apple above his collar. He tried to keep the desire out of his voice, taking a deep breath to clear his
throat. He forced a smile, and looked over Chu Wanning’s shoulder.

“The mirror is sticky,” he said.

“It’s been unused for too long,” Chu Wanning replied, hands still on his hair.

“I don’t think you can see yourself clearly,” Mo Ran said. “I’ll comb your hair for you, sir.”

Chu Wanning bit down on his ribbon to stop himself from immediately and enthusiastically
agreeing, but it was then too late to refuse gracefully. Mo Ran took the ribbon and began to brush
Chu Wanning’s hair. His hot palm kept brushing against Chu Wanning’s ear, sending little shocks
straight to his groin, and he clenched his teeth in an attempt to control himself. “Are you nearly
done?” he asked acidly, trying not to sound as if he wanted to climb Mo Ran like a tree.

“You’re in such a hurry,” Mo Ran said with a throaty laugh. “Not much longer now.”

Chu Wanning clenched his fists and screwed his eyes shut, trying not to think that Mo Ran’s
breathing sounded heavier than usual. He wanted it to be the heaviness of a beast about to pounce
and ravish him, and yet he knew without a doubt that he wasn’t good enough for Mo Ran to be
attracted to him. Had he bothered to look, he would have seen the naked desire in Mo Ran’s face,
but he refused to make the slightest effort to end his own misery.

The headband was in the wrong place, Mo Ran realized, but he couldn’t make himself care. He
only wanted to grab his teacher, suck on his earlobe, and demand an explanation for the brocade
pouch. The yearning was so strong he thought it might tear his heart open.

------

Chu Wanning finally tied his own ponytail and calmly left to do the dishes. Despite only having
three bowls to wash, it took him an inordinately long time to return. As he waited, Mo Ran sat
restlessly on the bed, fingers plucking at the blankets, and he glanced out the window periodically.
He didn’t know how he would be able to sleep with his emotions in turmoil and his body
clamoring for Chu Wanning.

There was no way, he thought, they could share the same bed. He glanced up as Chu Wanning
finally returned with the clean dishes, looking between Mo Ran on the bed and the crackling
candle flame. Instead of getting ready for sleep, he moved to sit at the table.

“What are you doing, sir?” Mo Ran asked before he could stop himself. “Aren’t you coming to
bed?” Oh no, he thought, Chu Wanning will think I’m inviting him to fuck.

“I have a few things left to do,” Chu Wanning replied tonelessly. “Sleep first if you want.”

“I’m not tired, sir,” Mo Ran said. “Whatever you’re doing, I’ll help you with it.”

“No,” Chu Wanning said. “I’m making some messenger blossoms, and you can’t help with that.”
The blossoms were made of his qi, and could transmit brief messages. It was a unique talent
possessed by no one else.

Instead of leaving him alone, Mo Ran pulled out a chair and sat opposite him. “Why are you doing
this now, sir?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“I’m going to sell them,” Chu Wanning said. “We don’t have enough money. If Madame Sun
wants to do business, I’ll accommodate her. She’ll make enough money off of these to cover
herself in gold.”

“Selling flowers, sir?” Mo Ran asked, laughing.

Incensed at being compared to women hawking goods in an alley, Chu Wanning glared. “They’re
made of qi,” he said. “Much higher class than mere feminine flowers. They’re very manly.”

“Then I’ll have to help you sell them,” Mo Ran said impishly.

Before answering, Chu Wanning generated several flowers. “Up to you,” he said finally. “As long
as you’re not ashamed to be seen selling flowers with me.”
“How could I be ashamed to be seen with you?” Mo Ran said, the golden light of the messenger
flowers illuminating his handsome face. He glanced at the flowers. “How much do you intend to
charge for them?”

“They’re easy to make,” Chu Wanning said. “Three copper coins for each should be about right.”

Mo Ran groaned. “Sir, you just make them. I’ll go out and sell them.”

“Why?” Chu Wanning snapped. “I made them. I can set the price. Three coppers is a fair reflection
of the difficulty of producing them.”

“Sir, you’re the one and only Holy Grace Immortal. This is your Evening Messenger Crabapple,
something unique even within the cultivation world, and you want to sell it for a lousy three bronze
coins?”

“No one asked for it, either,” Chu Wanning retorted. “It’s pretty and sends short messages. It’s not
useful enough to be expensive.”

“Oh my god,” Mo Ran said. “Fine. Sell them all to me, right now. I will hand you the money.”

“Fine.” Chu Wanning held out a hand.

Mo Ran snatched up his purse, thrust his hand inside, and realized that he had already given Chu
Wanning all of his money so that the refugees wouldn’t be thrown off the island. “You did that on
purpose,” he complained.

With a superior smirk, Chu Wanning withdrew his hand. “You were the one who said you’d pay
immediately.”

Mo Ran swallowed hard. He knew Chu Wanning meant pay for the flowers, but he couldn’t help
but hear the sentence as pay for Chu Wanning himself, and he was annoyed that his teacher had
been so ambiguous. Casting about for somewhere else to place his eyes, he saw the bowl of water
his teacher had used to wash his hands, and knew that it was very cold. He looked over and saw
that Chu Wanning’s hands were red with cold.

Instinctively, Mo Ran took Chu Wanning’s hand in his and began to gently chafe it for warmth.
Chu Wanning, having been prepared for cold copper coins, was unprepared for warm and rough
skin sending little tingles straight to his groin. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

Not having had improper thoughts, Mo Ran was stunned by his teacher’s overreaction and could
only stare dumbly. Tears leaked from his eyes as he sighed explosively, and Chu Wanning pursed
his lips awkwardly. “Sir,” Mo Ran said. “Are you, uh.” He stopped mid-sentence, not actually
knowing what he wanted to say.

“No,” Chu Wanning answered anyway.

“Uh,” Mo Ran said.

“I don’t know what you’re going to say, and I don’t care. The answer is no.”

Mo Ran lifted his hands into the air, placing them on the back of the chair with an ostentatiously
honest expression. Chu Wanning returned his attention to the messenger crabapple, and Mo Ran
felt angry and underneath that, helpless. “Sir,” he said. “I was just going to ask if you were cold. I
wanted to warm up your hands. Sir.”
“I’m not cold,” Chu Wanning sniffed, perfectly aware that his hands were freezing and that Mo
Ran knew he was lying. “I’m going to sleep,” he added. “Tomorrow we’ll sell the flowers.”

Instead of restraining himself, Mo Ran glanced at the bed. He would stay awake until Chu
Wanning fell asleep, he decided, and whether or not he took the bed or the floor depended entirely
on his teacher’s actions. If Chu Wanning scooted to the side and made room for him, he though, he
could sleep on the bed. Otherwise – Mo Ran’s brain stalled out and he blushed. “I’m not tired yet,”
he stuttered.

“Then what are you doing?”

Mo Ran looked at him for a moment and then generated a fiery red butterfly out of qi. “This will be
more expensive than the flowers,” he said. The butterfly flew in and out of the opaque paper-
covered window, landing on the flowering tree outside. It licked the blossoms’ tender pink
stamens, and Chu Wanning flushed red.

“Mo Weiyu!” He was so furious that he didn’t know what to say. “Three copper coins,” he grated
out, and Mo Ran laughed at him. Finally, he summoned another butterfly and sent it to the
crabapple messenger still in Chu Wanning’s hand.

“I’ll sell it for however much I want,” Mo Ran said loftily.

“Sell it to me,” Chu Wanning said. “It can’t be more expensive than my crabapple.” He paused. “I
don’t have money with me right now, but I’ll pay you when we get back to Sisheng Peak.”

With a smile, Mo Ran generated a third butterfly. It danced around Chu Wanning’s head, and Mo
Ran rested his chin on his hand. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“You wouldn’t give me credit?” Chu Wanning asked, astounded.

“No,” Mo Ran said.

“No?” Chu Wanning repeated, ready to beat Mo Ran into the ground to teach his arrogant disciple
a lesson. Instead of being intimidated, Mo Ran simply laughed loudly.

“No,” he said. “I just wanted to say, um.” He hesitated, and Chu Wanning leaned forward
unconsciously. “Buy me,” he said finally, resting his cheek on his arm. “Buy me, sir, I’m free.”

Chu Wanning turned red, embarrassed and angry, and resolved not to go to bed until his idiot
student had gone to sleep. The two of them sat in the room full of spirit butterflies and messenger
crabapple blossoms, staring at each other, neither willing to break first. Chu Wanning stroked a
petal, waiting for Mo Ran to decide to sleep. Mo Ran peered out the corner of his eyes at Chu
Wanning, waiting for him to lie down.

“Aren’t you tired, sir?” Mo Ran said cautiously.

“Oh, not at all. Go ahead and lie down, if you want,” Chu Wanning said.

Mo Ran smiled at him, demurring politely. It took another two hours for Chu Wanning to fall
asleep at the table, the room packed to the brim with crabapple blossoms and spirit butterflies. Mo
Ran smirked triumphantly, and carefully picked up his teacher’s sleeping form.

------

Not having slept for two days, Chu Wanning slept so soundly he was undisturbed by Mo Ran
carrying him to the bed and gently laying him down. After covering his teacher with the blanket,
Mo Ran stared at his face, examining each feature, wondering how a single person could be so
beautiful. His heart softened and his dick stiffened in response, and Mo Ran felt an almost
overwhelming urge to rip off his clothing and fling himself into the bed.

The burning intensity of Mo Ran’s gaze woke Chu Wanning from his exhausted sleep, and he
stared in shock at his student standing over him. “What are you doing?” he snapped, alarmed.

Mo Ran’s expression was difficult to see in the candle-light, and he lowered himself slowly to the
bed. Chu Wanning was so shocked he didn’t dare move. The closer Mo Ran got, the louder his
heart pounded. Mo Ran pulled the curtain over the bed as the candle dimmed, and sat at the edge of
the bed. HE looked at his sleeping teacher. “I just wanted to help you to bed, sir. I didn’t think I’d
wake you.”

The curtain had darkened the area around the bed even more, and Chu Wanning just stared at the
amorphous blob where he knew his student’s face to be. The light of the candle was like a mist
condensed onto the windows in winter. The curtain fluttered behind Mo Ran.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said. “I wanted to ask you something.” He was braver in the dark. A bolt of hope
went through Chu Wanning, and he waited to hear Mo Ran ask about the brocade pouch. His face
remained cold and empty, not that it could be seen in the dark. “Should I sleep on the floor?” Mo
Ran asked.

Chu Wanning flailed and nearly fell out of the bed, knocking Mo Ran to the ground in the process.
Mo Ran was already regretting the question, knowing that he was sound of mind and body and
should just have slept on the floor to begin with. Better that than to tempt his terrible uncontrollable
masculine desires.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, and neatly piled a bed of straw.

Having been woken by Mo Ran’s shenanigans, Chu Wanning found himself unable to sleep again.
He lifted the curtain with one hand, watching his student. “Mo Ran,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Mo Ran said. “Good night, sir.” He looked at Chu Wanning steadily with his dark,
gentle eyes.

Discomfited, Chu Wanning retreated behind the curtain. Outside, Mo Ran got up to blow out the
candle, and the two of them lay in the dark room looking at the gently glowing flowers and
butterflies. Neither of them could sleep despite their exhaustion. Mo Ran shifted, and shifted again.
“What?” Chu Wanning said finally.

“You don’t have to sleep all balled up in the corner,” Mo Ran said, a smile in his voice.

“I’m used to it,” Chu Wanning told him. “There’s so much stuff in my room that otherwise I end
up hurting myself.” He waited for a reply to the information he had willingly shared, but Mo Ran
was silent for a long moment. “Is something wrong?” he asked bravely, daring further rejection.

“Nothing,” Mo Ran said, and he sounded as if he had scooted closer. “As long as I’m around, you
don’t have to worry about hurting yourself, sir. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Chu Wanning snorted. “I’d hurt myself on your muscled arm nearly as badly as on anything else.”

“I have something even harder for you, sir,” Mo Ran said, lying to himself that he had had no
intention of making a double entendre and had in fact been referring to his glorious pecs. As soon
as he said the words, he regretted them. “Uh, that wasn’t what I meant, sir.”
Chu Wanning’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. He desperately wanted Mo Ran’s hard and
hot blade, which he had seen illustrated in that ridiculous book but also felt through his clothes.
“I’m asleep,” he finally said.

The lava of love gnawed at the two of them, licking at their chests, tension ratcheting up in the
quiet room. A spirit butterfly fluttered to the curtain, illuminating it in soft red, and Mo Ran
suddenly remembered being rescued under the water at Jincheng Lake. The person who had
rescued him from Heart-pluck Willow’s nightmare had whispered, “I like you, too.”

Mo Ran knew that it had been Chu Wanning who had saved him, and not Shi Mei, no matter what
body he had worn. His heart sped up, as he began to consider a thousand tiny details that he had
dismissed. Instead of asking Chu Wanning how he felt, he began to obsessively recount his
memories, replaying the sound of his teacher telling him that he liked him over and over.

“Sir,” he said finally. “I found something when I washed your clothes today. Do you know what it
is?” He regretted that question, too, as soon as he said it. Chu Wanning didn’t answer, and Mo Ran
hesitated. “Sir, are you awake?” he asked. “Did you hear me?”

Completely still as if he had fallen asleep, Chu Wanning was quivering. Mo Ran reached out
several times as if to open the curtain, but each time he stopped. Of course his teacher wasn’t in
love with him; he wasn’t worth it. He stared at the dark curtain, wondering what he thought he was
doing.

“Pay attention to me, sir,” Mo Ran mumbled, somehow going completely unheard by the man less
than two feet away.

Chu Wanning couldn’t figure out what Mo Ran was trying to do. Of course there was no question
that Mo Ran was trying to flirt with him, because he knew he was too unattractive. He was content
to just listen to his disciple murmur from the floor, finally burying himself in the quilt. He
desperately wanted to sit up and shout at Mo Ran instead, that he had been hiding the brocade bag
because he was pathetically pining for a man who was too good for him, but he couldn’t bear the
shame of expressing an authentic emotion.

Mo Ran sighed softly after a while. “Sir,” he whimpered. “Are you really asleep?”

Under the quilt, Chu Wanning was full of regret, fear, nervousness, and sweetness. His mixed sour
and bitter feelings bit at his itching heart. All he could do was try to cool his burning cheeks and
silently kick the blanket.

------

Despite not having slept for two days, Chu Wanning’s emotional constipation was so severe that it
prevented him from sleeping that night as well. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he wore his iciest
face. He opened the door to see Mo Ran washing clothes, and wondered irritably why his student
was doing laundry so early when he’d just done it the night before.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said, turning to greet him. “Third Madam Sun accepted the money. She brought
food, which is on the table over there. Please eat, sir.”

“And you?”

“I’ve already eaten, sir,” Mo Ran said. “When you finish breakfast, we can sell the butterflies and
flowers.”

The food was bland but filling, and Chu Wanning saw that he had been allotted three whole
steamed buns. He nibbled on them slowly as the rising sun illuminated the dead vines in the
courtyard. They framed Mo Ran’s tall, handsome figure, and he felt his heart and other organs
swell in appreciation. He took a firm bite of the steamed bun to suppress it.

In the market, the qi messengers caused a huge commotion. Once the villagers learned they were
functional as well as decorative, there was a near-stampede to the stall to buy them. The noise was
so great that it caught Madam Sun’s attention. She appeared at the market with a few subordinates,
seeing the stream of golden-red lights over the crowd.

Jealousy rent Madam Sun’s heart and she knew she had to possess the beautiful creations. She
pushed through the crowd, coming to the front only to see the two handsome cultivators from the
day before. One stood with his arms crossed coldly, scowling, while the other smiled brilliantly as
he directed the butterflies and flowers to perform tricks for the audience.

“You should also announce our goods,” said the smiling one.

“I’m not some common whore,” snapped the other. “I refuse to demean myself.”

“How much are the butterflies?” someone finally asked.

“Ten gold,” Mo Ran said cheerfully, and staggered as Chu Wanning jabbed a finger in his ribs. “I
mean, three copper.”

The crowd hesitated in shock and then surged forward, waving coins. Mo Ran sold spiritual
messengers left, right, and center. He even gave away a particularly beautiful custom-made
phoenix-tail butterfly to a ragged girl with no money. She smiled widely, eyes full of tears, and Mo
Ran winked at her.

In the midst of the crowd, Madam Sun watched as customers bought up all the wares. A beautiful
lady put a crabapple blossom in her bun, instantly gaining an indescribably noble aura and the
impression of thick, beautiful hair. She lost patience. “I will buy them all,” she said.

“I was wondering who might be so generous,” Mo Ran said. “Third Madam Sun.”

“However many are left, I will take them all,” Madam Sun declared.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Mo Ran said. “It’s first come, first serve. There’s a line, and it’s not your
turn yet.”

Madam Sun looked ostentatiously around, to where there was no line and the villagers simply
pushed their way back and forth, willy nilly. She narrowed her eyes. “Raise the price,” she said.

“Oh, I’m not in charge of pricing. You’ll have to talk to my manager.” Mo Ran jerked a thumb
toward Chu Wanning.

Leaving her spot in the line that didn’t exist, Madam Sun went to confront the other cultivator.
“Honored cultivator,” she said. “You should sell these to me. We’re businessmen. Price is
negotiable.”

“Ten gold each,” Chu Wanning said.

Mo Ran couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and he glanced over at Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes.
Fume though she might, Madam Sun couldn’t convince either of them to change the price. She was
more than wealthy enough to buy the rest of the spiritual messengers at the inflated price, and she
was soon enough carrying the entire inventory back to her home.
Inside, she eagerly arranged her hair into a bun and covered it with bright gold flowers. She
emerged looking like a melted and burning candle, much to the collective amusement of the
villagers. Her joy in her new ornaments was short-lived, as by the time she had stepped outside
again, she heard news that the two cultivators were selling new stock. She rushed over and planted
herself in front of the stall, bun glowing brightly.

“I just bought all your goods!” she protested.

“Oh, we made more,” Mo Ran said.

“If they’re that easy to make, why did you charge me ten gold per?”

“Well,” Mo Ran said, “it’s all about the demand. Price rises as demand rises.”

As Madam Sun opened her mouth to scold Mo Ran for his impertinence, Chu Wanning stalked
over. His fingertip glowed with bright light, and a twin crabapple blossom appeared. Distracted, she
eyed it suspiciously. It was prettier than the others. “What is it?” she asked finally.

“This includes the art of rejuvenation,” Chu Wanning said. “Place it on the bed before sleeping to
generate a radiant effect lasting for up to fifteen days.” He glanced over at Mo Ran and then back
at Madam Sun. “One hundred gold per flower.”

“Wait,” Madam Sun said. “I want it. How many more can you make? I’ll take all of them.” She
tried to think of a way to prevent them from simply creating more and selling them to someone
else, but the cultivator solved her problem for her.

“I don’t want to do the same spell over and over again,” he said boredly. “I’ll only make three.”

“Then I’ll take three, for three hundred gold.”

“Mo Ran, collect the money.” Chu Wanning generated the other two flowers, handing all three of
them to Madam Sun. Her eyes brightened, only for her face to fall as he started to generate a fourth.

“You said you’d only make three,” Madam Sun objected.

“This one contains the Art of Wonder,” Chu Wanning said. “It makes a woman’s voice more
pleasing to the ear.”

Teeth itching with jealousy and hatred, Madam Sun wanted the effects of the spells more. “I’ll buy
them.”

At the end of the day, Mo Ran and Chu Wanning retreated to their room to count the money. There
was plenty to feed and house the refugees, with money to spare. Chu Wanning tapped his
fingernails on his half of the profit before pushing it toward Mo Ran. “Return this to Madam Sun
when we leave.”

“Uh, why?” Mo Ran asked.

“We’re so far from Linyi, there are no supply routes, and yet no one on the island looks as if
they’re poor or starving.”

“Oh, right.” Mo Ran thought about it, coming to the conclusion that Chu Wanning was, as always,
correct.

“Confirm the story,” Chu Wanning said. “But you should know that the village head told me that
Third Madam Sun used to be a member of Rufeng Sect.”

“Er, what?”

“She wasn’t particularly skilled, only good at the sword arts, so her master didn’t pay much
attention to her. She came out here when she was seventeen with another Rufeng Sect cultivator to
recruit a disciple. At the time, since the island was full of commoners and so far away, cultivators
could do whatever they wanted and no one could go to the sect to complain.” He paused. “They
even sexually assaulted the young men and women.”

“They didn’t,” Mo Ran said faintly.

“They did. Madam Sun was furious and took her senior brothers and sisters to task, but despite her
fury, they were better at fighting than she was. They stabbed her and threw her off a cliff.”

“So that’s what happened,” Mo Ran said.

“She was lucky,” Chu Wanning continued. “She was picked up by a fisherman, who adopted her
as a daughter. She was raised as an islander, gradually becoming the head of the largest family on
the island.” He paused. “You heard her say the harvest wasn’t good this year, right? She looks after
every household. She only cheats cultivators, and she supports the poor.”

Thinking of the ragged girl in the marketplace, Mo Ran realized that although she had been
shabbily dressed and had a dirty face, she hadn’t been malnourished. She had looked bright and
healthy under the dirt, and if she had been begging for food, she would have looked much worse.
He looked down.

“She goes out to see more than twenty times a year, taking seven or eight days to go back and forth.
If you look at her luxurious mansion, it makes no sense for her to make such a rough trip at her age.
Why would she painstakingly sell things from the island in Linyi City, then buy supplies and bring
them back? She doesn’t lack money.”

Mo Ran flinched. “I understand,” he said. He picked up the money, ready to return it immediately
to such a charitable soul.

“Sit down,” Chu Wanning said irritably.

“What?”

“Are you trying to embarrass her?” Chu Wanning snapped. “Did you not listen to her history with
cultivators?”

“So what do we do?” Mo Ran asked.

“We pass the money to the village head, who will get it where it needs to go.”

“Yes, sir,” Mo Ran said. “You’re right as always, sir.”

“Look,” Chu Wanning sighed. “You have to look deeper than the surface. Sometimes even deeper
than the second layer.”

The words hit Mo Ran like an arrow to the heart, describing perfectly his previous attitude toward
Chu Wanning. Even if it was difficult to remain rational in the face of strong emotion, he hadn’t
even made the effort to see below the surface. Nangong Si had done the same to his mother, and
both he and Mo Ran had regretted it. They had caused hurt that couldn’t be undone. Only someone
as emotionally balanced and mature as Chu Wanning could truly judge people, Mo Ran thought.

Finding his teacher even more perfect and wonderful than he’d thought, Mo Ran felt a swell of
tenderness in his bosom and a desire to protect Chu Wanning from the cruel world that didn’t
appreciate how amazing he was. The former the Evil Overlord who had once destroyed the world
knew he would die without hesitation for his glorious faultless perfect teacher.

“What are you smirking at?” Chu Wanning snapped.

“I’m just thinking about little things,” Mo Ran said, smiling, and then remembered that Chu
Wanning had mentioned wanting to learn how to fly on a sword when they had gone to the market
that morning. “Sir, please come with me.”
 Book 2, Part 4: Same Destination - Wanning

The rough sea crashed against the base of the cliff, ocean spray rising high into the air as the two
cultivators arrived under the crescent moon. Mo Ran called his sword, and turned toward his
teacher. “Out of curiosity, sir, why don’t you know how to do this?”

“I do,” Chu Wanning said. “I’m just bad at it.” At Mo Ran’s raised eyebrow, his cheeks turned red
and he buried his hands in his sleeves. “I can’t get very far off the ground,” he mumbled.

Mo Ran blinked; the amount of qi was the same whether one flew an inch or a mile high. “Show
me, sir,” he said.

“It seems rude,” Chu Wanning said. “To demean the sword by stepping on it.”

“It’s not demeaning to use it for an intended purpose,” Mo Ran said.

Annoyed, Chu Wanning glared at him. “It’s not like I can’t get somewhere quickly in an
emergency. I can use the Rising Dragon Array.”

“That tiny thing?”

“It can grow,” Chu Wanning snapped. “But he’s afraid of fire, so I couldn’t use him at Rufeng
Sect.”

“So you want to improve your use of the sword technique in case of emergency.” Mo Ran nodded,
remembering the inferno and how many people had been left behind. As accomplished and exalted
as he was, Chu Wanning had been able to save no one; of course he regretted it. “I’ll teach you
well, sir.”

After a moment’s further hesitation, Chu Wanning raised a hand. “I summon Embracing Sands.” A
ray of light condensed into a shimmering golden blade, one Mo Ran had only seen once in his
previous life. It hurt to look at, shaking off bits of brilliance like falling sand. “It’s vicious,” Chu
Wanning said. “So I rarely call upon it.” He paused. “It’s a good sword.”

Mo Ran stepped onto his own blade, and wiggled his toes. The sword rose obediently. “Let me see
how you do, sir.”

Chu Wanning followed suit, Embracing Sands rising a few inches above the ground. It was steady,
so Mo Ran lifted himself a few feet in the air. He smiled down at Chu Wanning.

“Come on up here, sir.”

Embracing Sands faltered, rising in fits and starts, and Mo Ran saw that Chu Wanning was pale
and tense. His eyes fluttered, and tension lined his body. He came to a halt barely higher than he
had been before, and Mo Ran had the sudden ridiculous thought that Chu Wanning couldn’t
control the sword because he was afraid of heights. It couldn’t be, he reasoned, Chu Wanning leapt
all over the place with his lightness kung fu and there was no way he could be afraid of heights.

“Sir?” Mo Ran asked.

Chu Wanning’s head whipped up and he glared furiously at Mo Ran. “What?” he snarled.

Mo Ran suppressed a laugh. “Um.”

“What are you laughing at?” Chu Wanning snarled again.

“Uh, my throat is dry,” Mo Ran said, forcing a cough, which did nothing to disguise his laughter.
Fear of heights explained so much, he thought, but he also needed to save face for his teacher.
“The, uh, higher you go the harder it is,” he said. “I couldn’t go more than a few feet off the
ground at first either. If you want to improve, sir, I think you just need to practice.”

“You had trouble?” Chu Wanning said cautiously, some of the tension fading.

“Yes, sir,” Mo Ran said, although he had gone nearly a mile high on his first flight with no trouble.
“I was maybe three feet off the ground?” Chu Wanning had made four feet, he thought, so the lie
would help preserve his fragile male ego.

Relief coursed through Chu Wanning; he hadn’t wanted to admit to a fear of heights, but apparently
he wouldn’t have lost face even if he had. “I see,” he said, chin coming up arrogantly. Of course he
was better than Mo Ran.

“Sir, just try not to look down,” Mo Ran said. “Look at me instead.” He hovered above Chu
Wanning. “Don’t think about how high you are, just match my height.”

The wind that had seemed so warm at the start of the night was cold and wet, and Chu Wanning
reluctantly rose higher. He could feel the air sliding into his clothes, and he shivered. He gritted his
teeth against the sensation.

“Sir, just take my hand,” Mo Ran was saying.

“I don’t need your help,” Chu Wanning snapped.

Understanding that his teacher’s pride wouldn’t allow him to accept help, Mo Ran backed off as if
it wasn’t a big deal. He knew that it was difficult for Chu Wanning to admit he couldn’t do
something, and it roused a fierce protective instinct in him. He wanted to protect his teacher, and
then fuck him senseless. He wanted to leave hickeys galore, but also he wanted to respect Chu
Wanning. He wouldn’t try to change his teacher’s nature; rather, Mo Ran would change himself to
conform to it.

The swords climbed higher, and Chu Wanning scrupulously kept his eyes off the ground. Even so,
fine tremors wracked his body and his face paled. Seeing his anxiety, Mo Ran smiled kindly. “This
is just like lightness kung fu,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” Chu Wanning argued. “That depends on the body. This depends on the sword.”

Taken aback, Mo Ran closed his mouth without answering. Of course it was his teacher’s stupid
pride, he thought, conflating using a tool with the weakness of relying on someone else. It made
his heart ache with love and tenderness. He glanced at Chu Wanning’s feet, seeing the trembling
intensify. “We should go down,” he said, wanting to prevent a fall, which would only make matters
worse.

“How high did we go?” Chu Wanning asked, once they had landed.

“Fifty feet,” Mo Ran said, and Chu Wanning’s eyes widened.

“So high?” he asked.

“As expected, sir, you’re quite talented. Next time, you’ll manage five hundred feet with no
problem.”
Instead of looking reassured, Chu Wanning looked terrified. He waved a hand nonchalantly, but
his gaze was fixed on the sword. The sword simply hung in the air, glittering innocently.

“How about this, sir,” Mo Ran said. “We’ll go together until you get used to it.”

“You don’t need to practice with me,” Chu Wanning said immediately.

“Well, sir, I noticed that you didn’t look at the ground when you rode my sword,” Mo Ran said. He
widened his sword. “Come on up here, sir.” Chu Wanning gritted his teeth and obeyed. “Hold
still.”

The sword leapt into the sky, and Chu Wanning screwed his eyes shut. He made himself open
them after only a few seconds, finding to his surprise that the island was already far behind them.
The wind howled in his ears and the wind blasted through his clothes. The sea beneath them
looked like the open maw of a huge beast, and he closed his eyes again.

“Don’t be afraid, sir, everything is fine,” Mo Ran said.

“Who’s afraid?” Chu Wanning snapped indignantly, face as white as paper and terror in his eyes.

Mo Ran smiled. “If you feel cold, you can hang onto me. It’s chilly tonight.”

Not being entirely without social grace, Chu Wanning understood very well that Mo Ran was
sparing his feelings. He bit his lip and refused the offered aid, and Mo Ran simply expanded the
sword until the two of them could stand side by side. A few moments of silence passed.

“Sir,” Mo Ran said. “The fire will go out in a few days and we can return to Sisheng Peak, but what
should we do with the refugees?”

“They should go to Shu,” Chu Wanning said. “No one will be able to survive in Linyi City.”

“Makes sense, sir,” Mo Ran said, and glanced over. “Should we go back?”

“Not yet.”

Mo Ran expanded the sword a bit further and created a barrier to keep out the cold. Chu Wanning
looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing. The translucent barrier was very similar to his own,
right down to the crabapple flower, except red instead of gold. Even knowing that it only kept out
the cold, the visual cue of something between him and the ground was enough to let him relax.
“Sir, look,” Mo Ran said.

“What?” There was nothing but the moon no matter how hard Chu Wanning looked.

“The moon is beautiful,” Mo Ran said.

“It’s just as beautiful from the ground,” Chu Wanning said, feeling vaguely insulted.

“But this is the first time we’ve gotten to look at it together,” Mo Ran said.

“No, it isn’t,” Chu Wanning said softly. Mo Ran turned to look at him in surprise. “It was long ago
and you’ve forgotten.”

Not knowing what to say, Mo Ran kept his mouth shut. He was older than his teacher now, and
some of his memories had gotten jumbled. He felt guilty that he didn’t know what Chu Wanning
was talking about, but also a sweet ache that his teacher remembered. The brocade sachet rose in
his mind, triggering a flood of memories of Chu Wanning risking life and limb to protect Mo Ran.
“Sir,” Mo Ran said, wanting to ask if Chu Wanning perhaps liked him. The tender seedling of love
in his heart had grown into a massive tree, its roots revealing the deep fishy smell of the earth. He
couldn’t speak.

“What?” Chu Wanning pressed.

Mo Ran still did not answer, wanting nothing more than to kiss him. He leaned over
subconsciously, then realized that his teacher was still anxiously gripping his own upper arms.
Even when terrified, Mo Ran thought, Chu Wanning refused to reach out to others. He put his
warm hand on the back of Chu Wanning’s cold one.

“What are you doing?” Chu Wanning said harshly, trying to pull his hand out of Mo Ran’s strong
grasp.

“You can rely on me, sir,” Mo Ran said. “You don’t have to be alone.”

In a calmer situation, Chu Wanning might have been able to correctly identify the romantic intent
of those words, but he was conveniently too distracted by his fear of flying to pay attention, thus
allowing the epic misunderstanding to continue. He turned his face away, suddenly feeling
overheated despite the cold air. He felt as if Mo Ran had pried open the clam of his projected
image to see the shiny pearl and sweet flesh of his soul. He tried again to pull his hand away,
realizing his palms were soaked in sweat.

“Let me hold your hand, sir,” Mo Ran said. Despite his strength, his words seemed filled with
sadness. “Chu Wanning,” he said finally.

“What did you call me?”

“I was wrong, sir,” Mo Ran said.

“As long as you know it,” Chu Wanning sniffed, but Mo Ran took a deep breath.

“Wanning,” he said.

The quagmire of love had caught them both, trapped them in its inescapable net. The pain seeped
into their bones. Mo Ran stared at Chu Wanning for a long moment, heart burning in his chest.

“Wanning,” he said. “I’ve been wanning to ask you a question.” He clutched Chu Wanning’s
fingers tightly. “But I won’t ask you.” His next words washed away the relief Chu Wanning had
just started to feel. “Instead, I’m just going to tell you.”

Resolute and decisive, Mo Ran expended all his courage in a single breath. His heart trembled
violently. He knew there was no turning back.

“Sir, I love you. Not like a disciple loves a teacher. I want to fuck you.”

Chu Wanning trembled in Mo Ran’s grasp, sure he had misheard. He was at a loss for words, mind
blank, and he wanted to refute what his ears had heard. Instead, he heard himself say, “I have a bad
temper.”

“You’re very nice to me, sir.”

“I’m old.”

“You look younger than me, sir.”

“I’m ugly,” Chu Wanning protested anxiously. “I’m nowhere near as good-looking as you are.”

Stunned, Mo Ran gaped at the extremely handsome man standing next to him. “Sir, you’re the
most attractive man I’ve ever seen.” Chu Wanning glared at him, face ice-cold and expressionless
to cover the turmoil in his heart. “I love you,” he said softly, the words a sharp knife stabbing into
Chu Wanning’s heart.

Chu Wanning nearly cried. “No one has ever loved me,” he said.

Hearing those words, Mo Ran felt so much sympathetic pain for how Chu Wanning had suffered
through no fault of his own that his heart cracked in two. His precious Chu Wanning, so badly
mistreated that no one had seen his value. “No, sir, that’s not true, you are worthy of being loved. I
love you so much. Please don’t feel inferior, sir.” He awkwardly held Chu Wanning’s hand. “What
about you, sir?”

sure let’s reward his toxic behavior and pretend it’s aspirational and healthy, this is some
fucking bullshit although it’s not like we didn’t see it coming for way too long

“What?” Chu Wanning stared blankly.

“I know I’ve done terrible things, and I’ve been a lousy student, and I’m stupid and unreliable, but
could you possibly like me too, sir?” Chu Wanning’s ears slowly flushed, and he yanked his hand
away. Mo Ran’s heart fell. “The brocade pouch,” he faltered.

“Don’t say it,” Chu Wanning said quietly, entire face red.

Mo Ran’s eyes shone with tears at his teacher’s embarrassed face. He reached for Chu Wanning’s
hand, brushing the tip of his finger. It was shaking. He grabbed Chu Wanning’s trembling hand
and pressed their palms together. He finally understood that Chu Wanning loved him, too.

Chu Wanning has a shitty outlook, acts like shit to others, can’t be bothered to put in the
slightest bit of work to improve himself, and expects a relationship that requires no work on
his part, for which he is rewarded with Mo Ran creating the relationship for him. I fucking
hate it so much.

------

Holding hands for the first time with Mo Ran was just enough for Chu Wanning, and he felt that if
Mo Ran had made any further advances, he would have leapt right off the sword. Mo Ran felt that
holding hands was not enough, but understanding without being told he held off, despite wanting
to kiss Chu Wanning. As soon as the sword landed on the ground, Chu Wanning leapt off as if
burned. Mo Ran followed.

“Watch out,” Mo Ran said, too late to warn Chu Wanning that he was about to walk into a tree.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, when Chu Wanning staggered back, holding his forehead.

“Don’t follow me,” Chu Wanning snapped.

“I need to rest,” Mo Ran said.

“Cool down first,” Chu Wanning advised, but Mo Ran had giddily held his teacher’s hand and
knew they loved each other. There was no way he could calm down.

In lieu of touching his teacher, Mo Ran walked up to the tree after Chu Wanning had left and
pressed his forehead to the spot his teacher had accidentally hit. It was like touching Chu Wanning
indirectly under the bright moon. Nothing could compare to the knowledge that Chu Wanning
liked him, too, and he rolled around in glee. Tenderness and ecstasy washed over his heart.

I reiterate, Chu Wanning expects not to have to do any of the work to initiate or maintain the
relationship and yet he is rewarded for this shitty, shitty behavior, fuck this shit

Mo Ran laughed in delight, the exalted the Evil Overlord, Grandmaster Mo, giggling like a
schoolboy with tears streaming down his face. It was unbelievable that Chu Wanning liked him
back. He hadn’t dared think it could be true, but his teacher had been secretly hiding their bagged
hair for years. It was clearly a sign. Mo Ran had been waiting to be loved for both lifetimes and it
had finally happened.

Angst that he wasn’t good enough for the faultless Chu Wanning suddenly struck him – bitterness
at how many terrible things he had done. His teacher was the bestest person in the world and Mo
Ran was murderous trash. He sobbed in despair, knowing how unworthy he was. He had said, “Shi
Mei, I love you” right to Chu Wanning’s face, stabbing his teacher in the heart. And yet his teacher
had heroically acted as though it was nothing, had courageously hidden his feelings so as not to
bear the sting of rejection. So brave, Mo Ran thought.

It was unbearably precious that Chu Wanning had bravely hidden his emotions, never letting on
how much he loved Mo Ran lest Mo Ran reject him, Mo Ran knew. And yet Mo Ran had dared
commit the unforgivable sin of not seeing the very clear signs that Chu Wanning never gave to
show his love, he had wronged his teacher terribly. How could he have done Chu Wanning so
dirty. Unlike the guilty the Evil Overlord, Chu Wanning was simple and clean. He had committed
no atrocities. Mo Ran was unworthy.

Back at their shared room, Chu Wanning spread out his hand, only to discover he was holding one
hand with the other in mimicry of how Mo Ran had held his hand. He was embarrassed and furious
at how he had betrayed his emotions. He slapped his right hand with his left for its audacity, and
heard footsteps approaching. Quickly Chu Wanning lay down and pretended to be asleep.

Mo Ran came into the room, quietly. “Are you asleep, sir?” he asked gently.

Chu Wanning didn’t answer. Mo Ran extinguished the candle and lay down on the floor in the
same place as the night before. Without the spiritual messengers, the room was even darker than it
had been before. Mo Ran held himself still; in contrast to the youth who had spent all his time in
brothels, he was now the model of purity and restraint.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Chu Wanning felt ashamed for his melancholy. Before he could dwell
on it, he heard Mo Ran get up. The curtain lifted, and Chu Wanning’s heart lodged in his throat.
He didn’t know what Mo Ran intended, having only experienced sex in his absurd wet dreams. He
was terrified of what he might do, afraid he would drown in the whirlpool of lust.

Mo Ran leaned closer, and Chu Wanning tensed at the sensation of his vigorous aura. Mo Ran
simply stroked a strand of hair behind his ear and covered him with a blanket. Chu Wanning
relaxed, feeling satisfied but also wanting more. Mo Ran was still respecting him, though, and only
kissed him softly on the cheek. His masculine scent surged through Chu Wanning’s senses.

At the edge of his self-control, Mo Ran had not been able to resist the soft gesture. His blood
surged. Chu Wanning, calm and collected, pure and holy, burned beneath Mo Ran’s gentle touch
and he could only think of a single thing: Mo Ran had kissed him. He clenched his fists under the
blanket, sweat dripping down his body. Fortunately, it was so dark that he thought Mo Ran didn’t
notice that he was awake.
------

Although he woke very early, Chu Wanning did not get up; he could see Mo Ran still asleep on the
floor through the curtain. He started to pull the curtain back, hesitating and then lifting it just
enough to see clearly. The clear light shone through the opaque window covering, illuminating Mo
Ran's handsome face. Chu Wanning watched him sleep for several moments, remembering when
his disciple had been brought to Sisheng Peak.

That year, Mo Ran had been a shy youth, happy and exuberant and prone to fits of passion. He had
been free of speech, and had chosen Chu Wanning as his teacher without hesitation. Despite
having resolved not to accept disciples, Chu Wanning hadn't been able to refuse him. Not even Mo
Ran's laughably poor assessment of his apparently mild nature had stopped him, and he had
avoided the boy for a full fourteen days to manipulate him into giving up of his own accord.

Mo Ran had refused to be put off, going so far as to beg in front of Red Lotus Pavilion. Chu
Wanning had hated the experience of being pursued, not wanting to deal with the emotional
turmoil of having a disciple. Mo Ran, perhaps sensing that his pleading was only hardening Chu
Wanning's heart, had taken to cleaning outside his home on a daily basis, greeting him politely, and
then leaving him alone. After ten days of this, Mo Ran's smile seemed bright and his voice sweet
as he greeted Chu Wanning. His sunlit form seemed vital and alive, and Chu Wanning had thanked
him for his hard work.

"Oh, this is the least of what I should do," Mo Ran had said, after a stunned pause.

"I'm still not taking you as my disciple," Chu Wanning had told him.

His refusal still did not quell Mo Ran's ardor. A few days after that, it had begun to rain. Chu
Wanning, finding it not worth the effort to get an umbrella or create a barrier to stay dry, had been
prepared to get wet. Instead, he had found Mo Ran holding a large, brown umbrella and waiting for
him, looking like a mushroom emerging from the ground. Chu Wanning had tried to refuse, but Mo
Ran thrust the umbrella over his head so clumsily that water dripped onto his neck. Chu Wanning
had glared at him, and Mo Ran had apologized profusely,

Chu Wanning hadn't known how to respond to the apologies, and he had just looked at the boy.
"What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving the earthworms," Mo Ran had replied innocently.

Chu Wanning had been stunned into incoherence, and he had seen that Mo Ran was indeed holding
a stick with which he had used to save the drowning earthworms. He was still speechless, looking
at the idiot child in front of him, and Mo Ran had faltered. He shifted his weight anxiously.

"When the rain stops, they'll be trapped," he had said anxiously, not wanting to be looked down on.
"I was told they'll crumble if you touch them with your hands, so I have to use the stick."

Moved, Chu Wanning had used his holy weapon to move the earthworms to the grass, and Mo Ran
had stared in shock at its golden brilliance. "This is my weapon, Heavenly Questions," Chu
Wanning had explained. "It's tiny, but fierce."

Heavenly Questions had sought out the endangered worms, carefully depositing them in the grass,
while Mo Ran watched with a look of envy. After a few moments, Chu Wanning had felt an
impulse. Without thinking too much, he had made an offer.

"Do you want to learn with me?" he had asked. Mo Ran nodded, wide-eyed. "Come to the bamboo
forest behind the Platform of Sin and Virtue," Chu Wanning told him.

Watching Mo Ran sleep, Chu Wanning remembered that Xue Zhengyong had been relieved by his
decision, albeit no little surprised. He remembered explaining that he'd chosen to take Mo Ran as a
disciple because the youth had rescued earthworms, and Xue Zhengyong had been surprised and
then understanding. Although Mo Ran had gone astray briefly from his pure and honest roots, he
had grown into an exemplary young man, and Chu Wanning was proud of him.

Staring intently at him through the curtain, Chu Wanning thought about how handsome his student
had become. He was steady and mature. But when he slept, Chu Wanning noticed, he furrowed his
brow as if burdened. It was amusing, he decided, as Mo Ran was too young despite his mature
mannerisms to be so worried. He was also keenly aware of his environment, Chu Wanning
thought, as if worried about potential assassinations, and before he could let the curtain fall closed,
Mo Ran woke.

Trying to preserve his dignity and not get caught staring, Chu Wanning stretched as if he had been
asleep and turned over. Mo Ran, not wanting to wake his clearly still sleeping teacher, got up
quietly and slowly. He pulled the blanket over his teacher's exposed arm. Then, after another long
moment, the door opened and shut. Chu Wanning opened his eyes and looked toward the window,
lost in thought for a long time.

The night before and the morning felt like a dream, perhaps because Chu Wanning had never
dared let himself imagine he could have a relationship with his student. He had known Mo Ran
was in love with Shi Mei, and he had tried to be content with whatever small crumbs of affection
fell his way. He had never succeeded, always envious and jealous, but he had refused to either walk
away or accept his face. He had simply waited for his silent love to be reciprocated.

There had been days over the years when Chu Wanning had wondered if his futile wait had been
worth it; if Mo Ran would respond to his total lack of action by falling deeply in love with him and
staying by his side. He had watched others from his cold mask, not understanding why his solitude
was so painful. Only when his heart had burned with love for Mo Ran had he understood that all
friendship and affection were ties that bound, unable to be severed.

Such conviction made it more difficult for Chu Wanning to understand how Mo Ran could have
fallen out of love with Shi Mei; whether he felt gratitude or guilt or some other unnamed emotion,
or whether Mo Ran had wanted to repay kindness with carnality. Perhaps, he thought, Mo Ran had
been rejected by Shi Mei, and the revelation stunned him. Furious at his student's duplicity, he
flung himself out of bed and kicked the floor where Mo Ran had slept.

what a fucking asshole

------

Having come to his stunning realization, Chu Wanning wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to
cast aspersions, in case he was wrong, but he also didn’t trust Mo Ran or his sudden love
confession. He would not be riding with Mo Ran to return back to the mainland, he decided, but he
wouldn’t be riding Embracing Sands, either. It took several days for the fires in Linyi City to go
out; the day they were to return, Chu Wanning nonchalantly pulled out the talisman for the Rising
Dragon Array. He summoned the small creature, which bounded through the air before coming to a
stop in front of him.

“It’s been years,” the tiny dragon said. “I missed you. What do you want?”

“Carry me to the other side,” Chu Wanning said.

“What am I, a pack mule?” the dragon objected. “I’m the first true sovereign of creature, the
Dragon of the Candle. I won’t do it.”

It wagged its head and tail, voice loud and clear, and some of the children couldn’t help but laugh.
Chu Wanning’s face darkened, and he raised his hand. “I’ll burn your talisman if you don’t,” he
said.

The little dragon was furious. “You’re shameless and unreasonable,” it said. “No wonder no one
loves you!”

yeah, the dragon is 100% right

Mo Ran opened his mouth to refute the dragon’s claim, but there were too many people around for
him to do it without embarrassing his teacher. He just smiled, shaking his head. Chu Wanning
glared at the dragon, paying no attention to his student. “You talk too much!” he said, aiming the
fire in his hand toward the dragon.

As Chu Wanning had no desire to actually damage his useful tool, the fireball only grazed the
dragon’s whiskers before landing in the sand. “My whiskies!” the dragon screeched. “My tail! My
head! Are they still there?”

“If you keep nagging, they won’t be,” Chu Wanning said, summoning another fireball over his
palm. “Grow.”

The dragon howled in protest, but it finally got up sulkily. Its whiskers hung down as it grumbled.
“There won’t be a next time,” it said. “I only consent to doing this once.”

Knowing the dragon said that every time he asked to ride it, Chu Wanning watched it stretch out its
limbs and expand. Its outlines melted into a ball of golden light, flashing with purple lightning and
thunder, and Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes against the wind. When the light faded, the dragon
was gone. The refugees looked around the beach, confused, until a loud roar sounded from above
their heads. It shook the heavens, roiling the sea and blowing the clouds away.

A mighty dragon rushed forth, eyes open and whiskers as thick as a century-old tree. It circled
above them, tilting its head upwards, and then dove for the ground. It landed dramatically on the
rocky beach, lowering its body until its belly nearly touched the ground. Mo Ran thought it was no
wonder his teacher preferred the huge dragon to the work of balancing on a narrow blade, and
watched as Chu Wanning mounted the dragon gracefully, having no plans to share his ride.

The refugees rode with Mo Ran on his expanded sword, following the dragon into the clouds. It
was a long journey to Wuchang Town, taking nearly the entire day. Chu Wanning reached the city
first, greeting the few rich families in town, and laid the groundwork for Mo Ran to hand the
refugees over to their heads of household. He watched them walk off in the light of the setting sun,
a slight smile on his lips.

Sick of his disciple ignoring him, Chu Wanning turned to leave. He didn’t say a word to Mo Ran
the entire way back to Sisheng Peak, or as they climbed the steps in front of the mountain gates. As
they walked upwards in silence, Mo Ran thought of the story he’d been told of Chu Wanning
carrying him up these steps on his back. The setting sun colored the twilight around them brilliant
hues, and Mo Ran felt bittersweet emotion rise in his throat. He reached out to touch the tip of his
teacher’s finger, still silent.

Stiff and uncomfortable with having his hand held, Chu Wanning tried to keep his face calm. He
was hindered by the fact that he was facing Mo Ran. His disciple knew him intimately, and when
Chu Wanning didn’t take his finger away, Mo Ran knew without being told what he wanted and
took his entire hand.

No matter how many steps there were, Mo Ran wanted the journey to be longer so that the two of
them could hold hands. He wanted it to be shorter, so that his teacher would have had to endure
less suffering to bring him home. He felt torn, and reached the top of the stairs with turmoil in his
heart. The majestic gates loomed out of the darkening twilight, and a tall figure in a silver fox cloak
appeared from near a tree.

“Sir!” came a familiar voice. Surprised, Chu Wanning yanked his hand free. He stopped walking
and looked up, seeing Shi Mei approach them with beauty so bright it could be seen even in the
dark. Shi Mei laughed pleasantly. “You’re back,” he said.

“Were you going out?” Mo Ran asked.

“Oh, I was about to go buy some things for the sect leader,” Shi Mei said. “But I wasn’t expecting
to see you two. We got the messenger blossom, but he was still worried.”

“Mo Ran and I are fine,” Chu Wanning said. “What about the others?”

“Xue Meng is fine,” Shi Mei said hurriedly. “His heart wasn’t damaged, and Elder Tanlang has
been treating him. He was up and about this morning.”

“That’s good,” Chu Wanning said, with a sigh of relief.

“I’d love to stay and talk,” Shi Mei said, lowering his beautiful eyes. “But I need to pick up the
medicines Lonemoon Sect sent.” He smiled. “Sir, I’m glad to see you safe. I’ll see you later.”

“Go ahead,” Chu Wanning said.

Shi Mei left, figure fading into the gathering dark, and Chu Wanning looked at Mo Ran. That his
disciple had let go of his hand made him inexplicably angry. His gaze sharpened to a glare, and he
flicked his sleeves before spinning on his heel and stalking off.

Reaching Loyalty Hall, it was difficult to push the doors open. The hall was full of precious
trinkets, from gold and silver to silk and corals, magical tools and spirit stones. Chu Wanning
could only get the door open halfway before it ground to a halt. Only then did he see the over thirty
peerless beauties standing in the hall, and Xue Zhengyong in the middle of it trying to reason with a
messenger from the Huohuang Pavilion.

“No,” he was saying. “We can’t accept the singers. We don’t really do dance performances here.”

Mo Ran slipped into the room after Chu Wanning had entered, nose assaulted with strong perfume
the moment he was past the threshold. He sneezed several times, alerting the sect leader to their
presence. With a huge smile, Xue Zhengyong greeted them.

“Ran!” he said. “Constellation! Help me dissuade this envoy from leaving these ladies here.”

“Envoy?” Chu Wanning said.

“I am the head disciple of Huohuang Pavilion,” said the envoy. He was dressed in light red,
smiling unctuously. “I have come specifically to foster an alliance with Sisheng Peak.”

By the time the envoy finally left with the singers, Xue Zhengyong was sweating. “Do you have
any idea,” he said, “how many people have shown up trying to kiss our asses? Large sects, small