punishment today, how will I have the right to discipline anyone in the future? Please continue.

Elder Jielu looked at Chu Wanning’s pale, delicate neck, exposed above his open collar. “May I at
least go easier?”

“That would be deception,” Chu Wanning said. “I can manage the two hundred lashes, don’t
worry.”

“Constellation Saint…”

“Jielu, continue the lashes.”

The metal rod fell once again. “Elder Jielu!” Xue Meng snapped. “Why are you still fucking
hitting him? Why won’t you obey me? Stop hitting my teacher!” It was Elder Jielu’s turn to
pretend not to hear and ignore Xue Meng’s anger. “Have you gone deaf, you shitty old man? I
order you to stop, on my father’s authority!” It was the only card he had to play – as a teenager, his
strength and status were far below that of the instructors.

Elder Jielu continued to read the rules aloud, striking Chu Wanning. Blood dripped down,
spattering the floor, and Xue Meng lost his composure entirely. He started to rush into the hall,
only to come up short at Chu Wanning’s swiftly erected barrier. Hand lifted without apparent
effort, Chu Wanning glared at his student through narrowed phoenix eyes over the blood dripping
now from his lips as well. The barrier forced Xue Meng back several steps. “Get out.”

“Sir!”

“I won’t hide behind your borrowed authority,” Chu Wanning said harshly. “Get lost!”

Tears shimmered in Xue Meng’s eyes as Mo Ran lazily arrived. “Oh, no,” he said. “Little phoenix
is going to cry.”

Xue Meng whipped his head around to glare at Mo Ran with red-rimmed eyes. Refusing to let the
tears fall, he pulled himself up and straightened his robes, kneeling to face the hall. “Sir, I was
wrong,” he said. Back rigidly straight, Chu Wanning knelt with cold sweat on his pale brow. “I
will not leave you, sir,” Xue Meng added, kneeling in front of the door.

when did we establish he was knocked off his feet??

Mo Ran found it extremely on brand for Xue Meng, the darling of the heavens, to conduct himself
like a chicken in front of Chu Wanning while acting the phoenix in front of everyone else. If he
hadn’t been so sure Xue Meng had no interest in men, he would have wondered whether there were
romantic interest at play. A sour taste flooded his mouth through the contempt in his heart for Xue
Meng’s ostentatious actions, but he couldn’t let his rival be the only one to show devotion.

“I won’t leave you either,” Mo Ran said, coming to the conclusion that if he didn’t, Chu Wanning
would be even more biased against him. Shi Mei, too, succumbed to peer pressure.

With the three disciples kneeling outside the hall, the rest of the sect found one excuse or another
to stop by to see the show, all abuzz with speculation and gossip at how the Constellation Saint had
beaten a civilian in a fit of rage while gleefully shushing each other lest they be next on the
whipping block. His kneeling disciples received sympathy, particularly given Mo Ran’s handsome
face and popularity with countless female disciples, but no one was brave enough to want to
interfere.

The last of the two hundred lashes fell and Chu Wanning dropped the barrier. Xue Meng scurried
forward, shrieking in rage at Elder Jielu. “Couldn’t you have at least held back, you asshole?”

“Xue Ziming,” Chu Wanning said, eyes closed but voice still commanding.

Xue Meng’s joints cracked audibly as he let Elder Jielu go and shoved him aside. Mo Ran was
hard on his heels, having assumed that Elder Jielu would have held back in consideration of Chu
Wanning’s status and smiling at Xue Meng’s overreaction. His smile froze abruptly as he saw Chu
Wanning’s condition and realized that his teacher hadn’t mentioned the injury on his shoulder – in
fact, Mo Ran noted, he had angled himself to take most of the blows there and layer new injury
atop old.

A tidal wave of intense dislike swept over him, but Mo Ran didn’t know what its target was or even
why he felt so strongly. Chu Wanning suffering at his hands was nothing new, but he couldn’t
abide someone else scarring his teacher’s body. Chu Wanning belonged to him, and no one else
had the right to decide his fate. Originally, he’d thought the two hundred lashes were
inconsequential – because of Chu Wanning’s status or because of his unhealed wounds – but his
teacher had deliberately hidden his condition.

As Mo Ran hesitated, Xue Meng reached Chu Wanning first. Mo Ran watched them retreat, their
teacher leaning on Xue Meng, and couldn’t identify the feeling in his chest. He couldn’t move as it
finally struck him that his previous life had never happened. None of the experiences he had shared
with Chu Wanning were real, and it didn’t matter who hit or supported his teacher, who spent time
with him, or even whether he lived or died. They had no relationship.

omfg you’re literally his student that is a relationship you insufferable twat

Shi Mei approached him. “Let’s go give them a hand.”

“I’ll pass. Xue Meng has it covered. I’d just get in the way.” Mo Ran’s expression didn’t reflect
the chaos in his heart, and he still couldn’t tell what he felt. Is this hate?

------

That night, Mo Ran lay in his bed, completely unable to sleep. The events of the past played out in
his mind, one by one, until finally every fragment became Chu Wanning’s cold and elegant face.
Mo Ran never understood just how he felt about his teacher. He’d first seen him under the
flowering tree in front of the Heaven-Piercing Tower, wearing a loose robe with wide sleeves, the
only one out of the twenty elders who was not dressed in the fetching silver-blue armor of Sisheng
Peak.

Mo Ran hadn’t been able to look away from his focused and gentle profile as the unidentified elder
had fiddled absentmindedly with the armored claw on his hand, resembling a white cat bathed in
warm, golden sunlight. His first impression of Chu Wanning had been literally glowing. Once he
had become his student, the negligence, punishments, and cold harshness had laid bare the white
cat’s sharp teeth and claws.

The sea of fire had nearly killed him, but he’d thought Sisheng Peak would have given him a
compassionate teacher to care for him. Nothing could be farther from the truth; Chu Wanning
acknowledged none of the effort he made and the smallest mistakes earned him whippings that left
him raw and bleeding. He even learned that Chu Wanning looked down on him from the bottom of
his heart, calling him deficient by nature, beyond remedy.

Mo Ran had once wholeheartedly adored the cold moon that was Chu Wanning, but that cold
moon regarded him as a disciple who had been forced upon him, a lowlife who was bad to the
bone, a no-good child raised in a brothel. A filthy reprobate. Mo Ran pretended he didn’t care, but
his respect had slowly turned to hatred and an aggressive unwillingness to yield.

Instead of impressing with his obedience, his resentment had driven him to provoke his teacher into
giving him attention, praise, or astonishment. Shi Mei’s praise would send him over the moon, but
Mo Ran would have given his life for even backhanded appreciation from his teacher. But Chu
Wanning never praised him, never gave him more than a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Mo Ran hated that nod, but he could only kneel before Chu Wanning like a docile stray dog and
promise to keep his teachings in mind. In front of Chu Wanning, Mo Weiyu was lowly to the bone
– worthless no matter who his uncle was, and he finally understood that someone like Chu
Wanning would never look at him with anything but contempt. Even after Mo Ran took over
Sisheng Peak and became the first ever emperor of the cultivation world, setting the world
atremble with fear under his dark banner until no one remembered his unmentionable origins, after
Mo Weiyu no longer existed and was only the Evil Overlord and thousands had screamed his name
in unison as they prostrated themselves before him, Chu Wanning had despised him.

The Constellation Saint’s cultivation had been abolished by then, leaving him tied up below the
hall and reduced to a mere prisoner beneath the steps. Mo Ran had already decided to execute him.
But he didn’t want Chu Wanning to have a quick and easy death, so he’d shackled his limbs, cut a
small gash in the artery of his neck, and enchanted the wound to not congeal. Blood trickled out
drop by drop as the sun blazed overhead.

When the coronation ceremony had been underway for some time and Chu Wanning’s blood
should have been nearly drained, freeing Mo Ran from his past at the same moment he was
crowned emperor, his teacher had still been indifferent. His coldly elegant face had been entirely
without color and yet his expression was still impassive. He looked on the Evil Overlord with
neither praise nor fear, only revulsion and disdain. Mo Ran had shuddered when he had seen a hint
of pity – Chu Wanning, dying before him, had pitied him.

That shudder had ignited the flood of rage that had been building for a decade – in front of the
former Loyalty Hall, now renamed Wushan Palace, Mo Ran had lost his mind. He’d stood in front
of the thousands of people screaming their acclamation and flattery and walked down the steps
with his black robes billowing around him. “Sir,” he’d said, taking his teacher by the jaw and
giving him a sweetly menacing smile, “today is a happy occasion for your disciple. You should be
celebrating.”

A deathly silence blanketed the crowd at his words. Chu Wanning’s cold voice was clearly audible
as he said, “I have no disciple like you.”

Mo Ran burst out laughing, the sound circling the golden hall like so many vultures. “You’re so
heartless, sir. I’m disappointed.” His voice echoed over the crowd. “No disciple like me? Who
taught me cultivation and martial arts? Who taught me to be so cold-bloodedly ruthless? Who left
my body scarred by the whip?” He dropped his smile, a cold light in his eyes, and his voice
became vicious. “Chu Wanning! Are you that ashamed of having a disciple like me? What part of
me was too low-class for you? Let me ask you, Chu Wanning, what does ‘deficient by nature,
beyond remedy’ mean?”

Mo Ran’s voice twisted into a bellow. “You’ve never seen me as your disciple! Never thought
anything of me! But I respected you, adored you! Why did you treat me like this? Why did you
never spare me so much as a single word of praise? Why is it that no matter what I did, I could
never get even the slightest bit of approval from you?”

wow this is like the worst possible way to act in public as an authority figure
Chu Wanning’s entire body shuddered, face growing even paler. His phoenix eyes widened as he
stared at Mo Ran. His lips moved, as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out. The last
two disciples of Sisheng Peak stared at each other, and Mo Ran finally noticed the uncomfortable
nature of the silence around them. He closed his eyes, opening them with the cruel smile that made
others shiver.

“Sir, you’ve always looked down on me,” Mo Ran said gently. He paused, gaze sweeping across
the thousands kneeling before his palace like so many crouching dogs, all acknowledging him as
the Evil Overlord of the cultivation world, and smiled. “How about now? Before you die, let me
ask you again. Who’s the better person now? Who won and who has lost?”

way to undercut your own authority, my dude

Chu Wanning still refused to look up, and Mo Ran gripped his face to forcibly meet his eyes. In
that instant, he froze – it was the first time he’d ever seen regret on Chu Wanning’s face. It was so
unfamiliar that that he abruptly pulled back his hand as if burned. The regret was shot through with
pain, as if his teacher were enduring agony in the depths of his soul, and he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning said, so quietly that no one else could hear. “It’s all my fault.”

The quiet statement swept the rest of the world away – the sound of the wind, the billowing of
robes, all of it, until Mo Ran was only aware of Chu Wanning’s face looking up at him. He waited
to feel glee, smugness, anything, but he could only wonder when he had gotten so much taller than
his teacher. So much time had passed, he thought, and so many things had changed.

Mo Ran’s lips moved on their own. “What did you just say?”

Chu Wanning only smiled, a smile that Mo Ran knew yet also did not, and in that pair of phoenix
eyes he saw the reflection of his own twisted expression. Then those eyes slowly closed, and Chu
Wanning fell backwards. Mo Ran gripped his shoulders, screaming. “Chu Wanning! Chu
Wanning, what did you say? Say it again!” The person in his arms did not reply, lips pale as pear
blossoms, handsome and aloof face frozen into a sad smile in the moments before death. He wore
the same expression as Mo Ran’s memory of when he’d first seen him in front of the Heaven-
Piercing Tower. “Chu Wanning!!”

The gentleness shattered, crabapple flowers withered and scattered all over the ground. Mo Ran
had gotten what he’d wanted, climbing to the top of the world over his teacher’s back, and it was
bitter. The anguish and hatred in his chest only grew worse. A faint black fog gathered in Mo Ran’s
hand as he quickly tapped Chu Wanning’s meridians, sealing the last remains of his life.

“Did you think you’d get the last word?” Mo Ran’s eyes bulged, his expression vicious. “I’m not
done with you, Chu Wanning. I still have a score to settle with you! I’m not fucking done! If you
don’t say it to me clearly, I’ll crush Xue Meng, Kunlun Taxue Palace, and all the people left that
you wanted to protect! I’ll rip them all to shreds!”

Mo Ran completely forgot about his coronation and the thousands of people watching him lose
control; he only cared that Chu Wanning live. He gathered him up, leaping across the tall
overhanging eaves in a single bound with his robes fluttering like a lone eagle unfurling its wings.
He headed for the southern peak and the Red Lotus Pavilion, where Chu Wanning had once lived,
to ravage its stores of qi and medicinal herbs. He had miscalculated; he couldn’t hate Chu Wanning
unless his teacher was still alive to acknowledge it.

The taste of past memories lingered on Mo Ran’s tongue as he lay in bed, still unable to sleep. He
washed his face and headed for Yanluo Hall, knowing that his teacher had carelessly bandaged his
wounds before reporting for discipline, knowing how stubborn his teacher was and how
unyielding. Chu Wanning gave not an iota of consideration as to whether his body could cash the
checks his ego wrote, and even Xue Meng couldn’t convince him differently.

As Mo Ran expected, Chu Wanning knelt with his back facing the door of Yanluo Hall, figure
upright as a pine. He regretted coming here in the middle of the night, thinking he must have gone
made, but he’d already made the effort and it would be a waste to simply turn around and leave.
Mo Ran set the lantern by his feet, coming to a compromise. He stood outside the window,
propping his elbows on the frame and resting his cheeks on his hands. He stared at his teacher
from afar.

The copper bells hanging from the roof swayed gently, and the sweet fragrance of flowers and
plants filled the night air. The two of them, one standing, one kneeling, were separated by a red
lattice window and by the empty silence of the hall. Before his rebirth, Mo Ran would have had the
authority to order Chu Wanning to stop reflecting and rest – would have had the ability to force
him physically if his teacher had refused. His teenage self had neither. He wasn’t even as tall as
Chu Wanning. His thoughts whirled in confusion.

Chu Wanning never noticed Mo Ran watching him, and neither could see the other’s face. The
white cat knelt all night, never turning around. The dumb dog stood all night, never once leaving.

50K words into this and I’m not sure if this is playing toxic danmei tropes straight or not – I
think I’m supposed to find Chu Wanning tragically romantic but he refuses to acknowledge
his feelings and actively pushes people away; he inexplicably thinks it’s beneath him to
control his temper and wants love and affection while refusing to do the work to create and
maintain relationships. Mo Ran, on the other hand, is selfishly centering his own wants and
needs, projecting his desires onto people who have demonstrated they cannot or do not want
to meet them. Neither of these people deserves sympathy for their misery, which is 100% of
their own making, and there has been absolutely no character development.

------

Xue Meng was surrounded by his fellow disciples at the Platform of Sin and Virtue during the
meditation session in morning classes. Skewed young - in their teens and early twenties - the
disciples were prone to gossip during meditation rather than sitting with hearts in peace, like still
water. Their chatter consisted of one topic, and one alone - the Constellation Saint kneeling for
three days at Yanluo Hall as punishment for beating a civilian following his two hundred lashes for
the same sin. Those who had witnessed the beating told the tale with obvious relish to those who
had not, exclaiming how ruthless the strikes had been and describing how blood had spattered the
ground until the Constellation Saint had lost consciousness. Xue Meng himself was tacked on as an
afterthought, as his classmates described his brawl with Elder Jielu.

The darling of the heavens had inherited his teacher's terrible temper, but no matter how hard the
vein in his forehead throbbed, he couldn't stop all of his classmates from chattering. Mo Ran sat
beside him, yawning, and was thus the only acceptable target of Xue Meng's ire. He grumbled
spitefully at his classmate. "Morning is the most important time of the day. How are you so lazy
first thing? Is this what we've learned?"

"Huh?" Mo Ran yawned again. "Are you that bored? You don't get to lecture me. Show your older
cousin some respect, you cheeky brat."

"Sure, I'll respect my older cousin the dog," Xue Meng spat back venomously.
"Wow, our teacher would be so disappointed in you disrespecting me like this," Mo Ran laughed.

"How dare you," Xue Meng hissed. "Why didn't you stop him from going to Discipline Court
yesterday?"

"Mengmeng," Mo Ran said. "That's our teacher you're talking about. The Holy Grace Immortal.
Constellation of the Night Sky. I'd like to see you try to stop him."

Distracted, Xue Meng leapt to his feet and drew his sword. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

"Be a good boy and sit back down," Mo Ran said, smiling. "Mengmeng," he added.

"Mo Weiyu, I will kill you!"

Shi Mei heaved a long-suffering sigh, caught between his fellow disciples and their routine
bickering, and tried to focus on his book instead. “Fill the vessel day and night; the spiritual core
shall be formed in time. The heavenly order is absolute; life and death shall remain separated as the
stars of Shen and Shang.”

Chu Wanning completed the portion of his punishment consisting of kneeling in reflection, and
was slated to start the next stage – three months of confinement on Sisheng Peak, performing odd
jobs. Elder Jielu fretted at this, saying that the typical tasks assigned grounded disciples would be
beneath the Constellation Saint. He did not say that he wasn’t sure Chu Wanning even knew how
to perform basic chores.

Chu Wanning reported to Mengpo Hall without a hint of doubt or hesitation, setting loose a storm
of apprehension on the staff and patrons alike. With his handsome face composed, Chu Wanning
was the very image of an immortal come down from the heavens – far too beautiful to perform
menial chores, the dining hall supervisor felt. However, the Constellation Saint lacked cognizance
of his own beauty and the status it conferred, and simply stepped into the kitchen. The staff were
one and all taken aback as his cold gaze swept over them.

“What should I do?” Chu Wanning asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind washing vegetables, sir,” the supervisor finally said carefully.

“Sure.”

The supervisor sighed in relief. Chu Wanning’s elegant hands weren’t suited to menial labor, and
he wasn’t sure the Constellation Saint was capable or willing to perform such tasks. The quick
agreement settled his nerves, but he had been hasty in his assessment of Chu Wanning’s abilities.

Clutching a basket of cabbages, Chu Wanning made his way to the small, clear stream in front of
Mengpo Hall. He carefully peeled each leaf from each head of cabbage, washing every one
individually before patting it dry. The disciples belonging to Elder Xuanji, whose area this was,
were shocked to the point of incoherence by the sight of the Constellation Saint washing vegetables
in the stream and were barely able to stammer out the appropriate greetings. None of them had the
courage to tell him that he should only wash the outside of the vegetables.

By the time noon came and went, Chu Wanning was nowhere near finished washing the basket of
cabbages and the attendants – having no idea where he was – paced back and forth in
consternation. If Chu Wanning didn’t return, they said amongst themselves, they wouldn’t be able
to cook the planned lunch. The supervisor sighed and changed the menu. Chu Wanning returned to
the hall to find his carefully washed cabbage superfluous.
Feeling himself ill-used, Chu Wanning frowned unhappily. “Why did you have me wash cabbage
if you weren’t even going to use it?”

The supervisor broke out into a cold sweat, blurting out a phrase he would regret for the rest of his
life. “We were hoping you would make a pot of cabbage and tofu stew!” At Chu Wanning’s
extended silence, the supervisor added hurriedly that it was no problem if the honored Elder didn’t
want to.

“Where’s the tofu?” Chu Wanning interrupted.

“Constellation Saint, sir, do you know how to cook?”

“I’m not completely ignorant. I can try.”

Not anticipating the incoming chaos, the disciples sauntered into Mengpo Hall at noon, cheerful
and talkative, and approached the counter in groups of three to five for their meals. Anticipating
rich, delicious food, they lined up eagerly for the perfectly fatty braised beef, the savory shredded
pork, and the appetizing peppered fish. The first disciple in line, a follower of Elder Lucun, held up
his tray without looking and asked for a bowl of tofu.

Instead of mapo tofu, the disciple received a mound of unappetizing black. “What the hell,” he
said.

“Tofu and cabbage stew,” came the reply.

Staring in horror at the abomination on his tray, the disciple failed to recognize the Constellation
Saint, and he snapped in frustration. “In what world is this tofu and cabbage stew? It looks like
poison! Take it back!” He finally looked up to see the chef who he was berating and shrieked in
terror at Chu Wanning’s cold face. “I mean, no, that is, I didn’t,” he stammered.

“If you’re not going to eat it, give it back,” Chu Wanning said expressionlessly. “Waste not, want
not.”

The disciple picked up the bowl numbly and handed it over before awkwardly shuffling away.
Silence spread behind him as the disciples filled their plates in a panic. They greeted Chu Wanning
deferentially at the end of the line, respectful and cautious to the extreme, but none of them asked
for the tofu and cabbage stew.

Slowly, the line grew shorter and shorter, and the food in front of all the other chefs was almost
gone. Only the pot in front of Chu Wanning was filled to the brim, the food inside gone cold, and
still no one wanted any part of it. Chu Wanning’s face betrayed nothing, but his heart fell at the
rejection of all of his hard work.

how lacking in self-awareness could you POSSIBLY BE

As if on cue, the Constellation Saint’s three disciples walked in. Xue Meng, dressed in his usual
silver-blue light armor uniform, came over energetically. “Sir!” he said. “How are you doing? Do
your wounds still hurt?”

“No,” Chu Wanning said calmly.

“That’s good,” Xue Meng replied.

Chu Wanning glanced at him. His next words fell out in a rush. “Do you want to eat tofu?”
Here we have physical appearance as an indication of a person’s relative worth, similar but
not equivalent to the earlier use of physical appearance as shorthand for character traits;
that it should somehow be beneath Chu Wanning to wash vegetables because he has a pretty
face is super gross, and so is the idea that tasks necessary for the sect to continue functioning
such as cleaning and cooking are inherently degrading. This isn’t necessarily an attitude
specific to this author or this work, but it’s still pretty shitty.

------

The young master of Sisheng Peak, determined to show his sincerity, asked for three whole
servings of charred tofu. Chu Wanning’s eyes lit with rare approval, and Mo Ran was immediately
aflame with jealousy. The former Emperor Evil Overlord and his ineffable fixation on Chu
Wanning’s acknowledgement immediately asked for three servings of tofu.

Instead of giving him an approving look, Chu Wanning raised a dubious eyebrow. “Can you eat it
all?”

“Three servings is nothing,” Mo Ran said, determined not to be outdone by Xue Meng. “I could eat
six.”

“Well.” Chu Wanning gave him six portions. “Waste not, want not.”

Shi Mei once again succumbed to peer pressure and also received three servings of tofu, thus
ensuring that the Constellation Saint inflicted the runs from food poisoning on all three of his
disciples on his first day of confinement.

The second day of Chu Wanning’s confinement saw Elder Jielu tactfully informing Chu Wanning
that Mengpo Hall had no need for extra helpers and directing him to sweep fallen leaves and wipe
pillars at Naihe Bridge. Connecting the main areas of Sisheng Peak with the disciples living
quarters, the bridge was wide enough for five carriages to pass through side by side. It was a
majestic structure, with nine beasts of white jade representing the nine sons of the dragon atop its
main pillars, and three hundred and sixty low pillars decorated with lion heads.

Chu Wanning quietly swept the ground before diligently wiping down the jade beasts. As the sky
started getting dark, it began to rain. Most of the disciples returning from their classes had no
umbrellas, squawking as they scampered through the puddles toward their quarters. Drops of rain
splashed the stone steps and the disciples, whose smiles were bright and carefree despite being
soaked to the skin. Chu Wanning knew that those smiles would vanish the moment they saw him;
looking for a place to hide, he stood under the bridge.

The first disciples to reach the bridge were surprised to see a barrier covering the bridge, its
translucent gold energy sheltering the path all the way to their quarters. Stunned, they started
speculating that it was the work of Elder Xuanji – he was known for his kindness and compassion.
They shook the water out of their dripping hair, shoving playfully at one another and laughing as
they ducked under the barrier and continued toward their quarters. Chu Wanning stood under the
bridge, listening to the commotion until the disciples had gone before slowly putting away the
barrier and walking out.

“Sir.” The voice calling for him seemed to come out of nowhere – there was no one on the shore.
“I’m over here.”

Mo Ran sat sideways on the white jade bridge with one leg draped lazily over the edge, dressed in
the sect’s silver-blue light armor. Chu Wanning was struck by his eyelashes, long and thick as a
pair of fans hanging over his eyes. He held an oil paper umbrella, and his lips were quirked in
something resembling a smile. One on the bridge, leaves rustling in the wind; one under the bridge,
rain splashing in the river.

The misty rain blurred the line between heaven and earth as they simply looked at each other for a
moment, neither speaking. Fallen bamboo leaves drifted between them, carried by the wind and
rain, until Mo Ran laughed. “Elder Xuanji, you’re getting wet,” he said teasingly.

“How did you know it was me?” Chu Wanning asked.

“Elder Xuanji can’t manage a barrier of this size,” Mo Ran said, dimples deepening. “Who else
could it be but you?” Knowing that Chu Wanning wouldn’t bother to create a barrier for himself,
he tossed his own umbrella at his teacher. “This is for you, sir. Catch.” The red paper umbrella
drifted slowly down and Chu Wanning plucked it out of the air. The glossy jade-green handle held
the warmth of Mo Ran’s hands and the droplets of rain sliding along its curved top sparkled as they
fell.

“What about you?”

Mo Ran grinned deviously. “You’ll keep me dry, sir.” Chu Wanning snorted, but waved his hand
to create a translucent gold barrier above Mo Ran nonetheless. Laughing, Mo Ran looked up. “It’s
so pretty. It even has peonies on it.”

“Those are crabapple blossoms. Only five petals.” Chu Wanning left, white robes under the scarlet
umbrella, leaving Mo Ran in the rain to count the flower petals by himself.

“One, two, three, four, five. Ah, he was right.” When he looked back up, Chu Wanning was
already far away, and Mo Ran’s childlike grin faded away to be replaced by a complicated
expression. Once again, he couldn’t sort out how he felt about his teacher – it wasn’t a simple
emotion like pure fondness or pure loathing.

The rain fell for four days. When the clouds parted at last, an entourage arrived at Sisheng Peak’s
main gate. Horses and carriages splashed through the puddles and broke apart the reflection of the
skies, bells jingling as it came to a halt. A red-tasseled folding fan peeked through the bamboo
screen, immediately followed by a pair of silver-trimmed blue battle boots hitting the ground with
a heavy thump. The burly man was about forty years of age and wore a full set of Sisheng Peak’s
armor. His thick eyebrows, big eyes, and full, well-kept beard contrasted sharply with his delicate
and scholarly fan.

The fan opened with a pop. The side facing others read Xue is beautiful, but the side facing the
owner read others are ugly. It was known throughout the realm, both for its owner’s martial
prowess and for the extreme awkwardness of its decorations – it reeked of narcissism. There was
no one in the cultivation realm who didn’t know this fan, owned by the master of Sisheng Peak,
Xue Meng’s father, Mo Ran’s uncle, Xue Zhengyong.

The saying went that as dragons bear dragons and phoenixes bear phoenixes, so digs the mouse’s
son holes. It was just as true in reverse; the peacock son’s father was just as prone to showing off
his tail feathers. Though Xue Meng’s delicate looks were completely different from his brawny old
man, the same blood ran in their veins. Xue Zhengyong stretched and shook his limbs out. “Ah,
finally home, my ass is numb from all that sitting.”

Inside Loyalty Hall, Madam Wang was busy blending medicine. Mo Ran and Xue Meng sat beside
her, helping. “Four taels of staunching herbs and a shouyang ginseng, please,” she murmured.
“Here you go, Mom, already weighed.” Xue Meng handed the herbs over.

Madam Wang sniffed them carefully. “These are no good, they’ve been tainted from being stored
with patchouli for too long. Please go fetch some fresh ones.”

“Alrighty.” Xue Meng got up to dig through the medicine cabinet in the inner room.

Madam Wang continued. “Three qian of wulingzhi, and one qian of dodder.”

Mo Ran passed the materials over deftly. “Aunt, how long will it take to boil the medicine?”

“No need to boil this one. It can be brewed,” Madam Wang answered. “When I’m done grinding it,
would you bring it over to Constellation Saint?”

Mo Ran knew that if he didn’t, Xue Meng would; he couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t want his
comrade to hog their teacher’s attention. “Sure,” he said, and paused. “Is it bitter?” he asked.

“Somewhat,” Madam Wang said. “Why do you ask?”

Mo Ran grinned. “No reason.” He grabbed a handful of candy from the fruit bowl and stuffed it
into his sleeve just as a burst of bold, unrestrained laughter came from the door.

Xue Zhengyong strode into the hall, grinning radiantly. “Honey, I’m home!”

Despite his status as sect master, he arrived completely unannounced and startled his wife so much
that she nearly spilled the medication she was grinding. Her pretty eyes widened. “Darling!”

Mo Ran also stood in greeting. “Uncle.”

“Ah, Ran, you’re here too?” Xue Zhengyong’s appearance was powerful and imposing, but his
manner of speech was kindly. His big hand smacked Mo Ran’s shoulder. “My boy, I haven’t been
gone that long, how did you get taller? How’d it go at Butterfly Town?”

Mo Ran grinned. “Went alright.”

“Good, good, good! I knew nothing could go wrong with Chu Wanning there – oh yeah, where is
he? Cooped up by himself fiddling with those playthings again?”

“Er,” Mo Ran said, uneasy. His uncle had a fiery temper and was prone to acting impulsively,
which had led to his death in Mo Ran’s last lifetime. Mo Ran therefore didn’t want to tell him
about the two hundred lashes and three months of confinement. His pondering on how exactly to
break the news was interrupted by Xue Meng and his burden of staunching herbs. He was ecstatic
to see his father.

“Dad!”

“Meng!”

Mo Ran secretly let out a sigh of relief. The two of them would stand there and flatter each other
for long enough to let him figure out how to break the news about Chu Wanning, and he watched
the two peacocks spread their tail feathers.

Zhengyong In General does explain why Chu Wanning hasn’t been kicked out for abuse

“My son, you’re even more handsome! You’re looking more and more like daddy!”
Xue Meng took entirely after his mother and looked nothing like his father. “Dad, you’re even
more muscular!”

Xue Zhengyong waved his big hand, grinning. “The whole time I was at Kunlun Taxue Palace, I
kept thinking about how none of the youngsters out there could hold a candle to my son and
nephew! I got so tired of looking at that gaggle of girly boys. Meng, do you still remember Mei
Hanxue?”

here we go again with this misogynistic bullshit

Xue Meng immediately took on a look of contempt. “The chubby one who’s been training in
seclusion for like, a dozen years? The eldest disciple of Taxue Palace? Did he finally come out?”

“Hahaha, what a good memory, that’s him. Remember the kid stayed with us for a while way back
when? You two even shared a bed.”

“How could i forget? Fat like a dog, and kicked in his sleep, too. I got kicked off the bed so many
times. You saw him?”

“I saw him, I saw him.” Xue Zhengyong twirled his beard.

Xue Meng, darling of the heavens and competitive to a fault, asked impatiently, “And?”

Xue Zhengyong laughed. “Of course you’re better. The boy’s master taught him stuff like
instruments and dance for some godforsaken reason. He even made flower petals fly everywhere
and I almost died laughing!”

Xue Meng wrinkled his nose, as if disgusted at the thought of a fat little cultivator playing
instruments and dancing through flower petals. “How’s his cultivation?” Having beaten Mei
Hanxue in terms of looks, Xue Meng was now set on comparing cultivation skills with the disciple
who had trained in seclusion for more than ten years.

Xue Zhengyong didn’t answer immediately this time. “I didn’t get to see his skills much,” he
answered finally. “No matter, Meng, you’ll surely get to cross swords with him at the Spiritual
Mountain Competition.”

Xue Meng’s eyebrow twitched. “Who knows if that stupid fatso will get to challenge me.”

Madam Wang finished blending the medicine and patted Xue Meng’s head with a smile. “Meng,
dear, don’t be so arrogant. Remember to be modest and respectful.”

“What’s the point in being modest? That’s for losers. I’d rather be like dad.”

Xue Zhengyong chortled. “See, this tiger dad ain’t got no pup for a son.”

Madam Wang was displeased. “Look at you, teaching him all of your bad habits and none of the
good ones.”

At the irritation in her expression, Xue Zhengyong understood that she was unhappy and
immediately checked his grin. “Honey, I was wrong. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Madam Wang had been a disciple of Lonemoon Sect in her early years, and rumor had it that Xue
Zhengyong had stolen her. Mo Ran didn’t know whether or not the rumor was true, but he did
know that his uncle was deeply in love with his aunt and that she had him wrapped around her little
finger. Madam Wang, however, was not quite so passionate toward her husband and would often
express anger over small matters. It had been plain to see over the years that Xue Zhengyong felt
more deeply than his wife.

The flirting dynamic wasn’t a pleasant prospect for Xue Meng, who clicked his tongue and turned
to leave. Quite embarrassed, Madam Wang tried to call her son back, but he waved his hand and
quickly left. The couple’s reunion was an excellent excuse for Mo Ran to dodge his uncle’s
questions, and he felt that the topic of Chu Wanning’s punishment was best brought up by Madam
Wang. He collected the medicine on the table and made his escape.

Goods in hand, he strolled leisurely over to the Red Lotus Pavilion. Because of his injuries, Chu
Wanning was weak and the customary barriers around the pavilion had been taken down. He had
no way of knowing when someone came in, but it didn’t occur to him to change his behavior. Mo
Ran therefore walked in on his teacher, the virtuous and incorruptible Constellation Saint, bathing
in the lotus pond with two other people.

------

Still hidden by the lotus leaves, Mo Ran froze as if struck by lightning. Something inside him
shattered, and he felt shocked indignation, jealousy, and irritation explode through his heart. His
mouth worked, but no sound came out. He was furious that Chu Wanning dare allow himself to be
touched by someone else when he had been claimed by Mo Ran. In that moment, Mo Ran
completely forgot that he had had no intimate relations with his teacher, and he lost all control of
himself. The ten years that hadn't happened yet were so vivid in his mind that he couldn't
remember that they hadn't happened.

Only now did Mo Ran realize how clearly he remembered the taste of Chu Wanning's lips, the
passion and desire as they had entwined until ecstasy consumed the core of his being. He had tried
not to think of it, after he'd been reborn, but seeing his teacher's naked back had brought the
memories rushing back. The familiar figure with broad shoulders and long legs, taut with muscle
down to the slender but strong waist submerged in clear water wrung an involuntary reaction out of
his body. He could do nothing to stop the low heat pooling in his belly as he watched, and he was
moving before he knew what he was doing.

“Chu Wanning!” Mo Ran shouted angrily, and Chu Wanning had the unmitigated gall to ignore
him. The two people supporting his shoulders were shrouded by the mist hovering atop the water
and Mo Ran couldn't make out their faces, but he could see that they stood far too close to his
teacher. He shouted again and waded into the water to drive them apart.

Too late, Mo Ran realized his mistake. The two figures belonged to a pair of metal and cedarwood
constructs, transferring energy through the lotus pond to Chu Wanning's all but unconscious form.
Light had poured out of their palms into the wound on his shoulder, but Mo Ran's interference had
broken the spiritual bounding field and the light was abruptly extinguished. To his horror, the
effects began to reverse themselves as soon as the light scattered. Chu Wanning's wound gaped
open again and he gagged on a mouthful of blood. The scars on his back started to tear open, blood
sheeting over his skin to turn the water red.

Even dumbfounded, Mo Ran recognized his teacher's Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique and
realized how grave of an error he had made. Chu Wanning's qi was both the wood and elemental
type - those with an affinity for metal type qi were skilled in offensive magic while the wood type
energy was used for healing. The Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique was a wood-aligned technique
in which the spiritual essence of flora was used to mend wounds. It was particularly susceptible to
disruption; if foreign qi entered the array, the flora spirits would conversely worsen the injury. In
the worst case, they would devour the patient's spiritual core.
Fortunately for Chu Wanning's soul, Mo Ran had a passing familiarity with the technique from his
previous life and was quick enough to cut off the flow of energy. He caught Chu Wanning as he
sagged out of the constructs' grip and held him steady. His teacher's unconscious face was pale,
lips blue and body cold. Mo Ran hauled him out of the pool and half-carried, half-dragged him
back to his room. He tried to wake him, calling several times, but the only indication that Chu
Wanning was even alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

The past rose up in his mind's eye and choked the breath out of his throat. His heart began to race
as he saw the two people who had died in his arms - Shi Mei and Chu Wanning. The love of Mo
Ran's life and his mortal enemy had died in the same place; Shi Mei's death had erased Mo Weiyu
from the world, and Chu Wanning's had - Mo Ran didn't know. He had no longer recognized the
world around him without his teacher in it. All he could fathom was the sense of panic that the
person in his arms was slowly growing colder and colder.

In the dim candlelight, Mo Ran saw his teacher's bare torso. The Constellation of the Night Sky
wore clothing that showed so little skin that no hint of his extensive injuries peeked past the screen
of dignity and propriety. Because Chu Wanning had been on his feet and walking around the
following day with no hint of pain, Mo Ran had thought that what he'd seen of the lashing must
have been exaggerated in his memory. He now realized that the wounds were far worse than he
had imagined - the ghost mistress's claws had ripped his teacher's flesh down to the bone.

The salve that hadn't been evenly applied had left the unreached places infected and festering, and
the purple bruises from the lashes spread across Chu Wanning's entire back. No part of his mottled
skin was unbroken. The wounds stemming from the spiritual rebound had washed his skin red, and
the blood flowed ceaselessly to drench the sheets underneath him.

I have some thoughts here on medically accurate depictions of injury and how it affects range
of motion, as well as the matters of hypovolemic and septic shock, but also I'm pretty sure Mo
Ran evenly applied the salve before rebandaging the shoulder in that one scene, which we are
now inexplicably pretending never happened.

If Mo Ran hadn’t seen his teacher wiping down pillars and creating a massive barrier to shield
disciples from the rain, he wouldn’t have believed that it was the same severely wounded man
lying here before him. He wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him, demanding to know
how he had so little care for his own condition, so little regard for himself that he’d use constructs
to heal his wounds rather than show even the slightest hint of weakness.

While cursing silently, Mo Ran worked swiftly to stop the bleeding. He drew a pail of warm water
and cleaned the blood from his back. Sterilizing a knife in the candle flame, he cut off the
gangrenous flesh. Chu Wanning groaned in pain, but Mo Ran held him down and started cursing
aloud. “The fuck are you bitching about now? If you don’t shut up, I’m going to stab you through
the heart and then you won’t feel anything. Problem solved!”

Only now, with his teacher unconscious and no one else to see, could Mo Ran let his real nature
show through and yell at Chu Wanning the way he had during his previous life. There were too
many wounds that had festered, the skin gone white and dead, and Chu Wanning panted heavily as
Mo Ran hacked away at it little by little. Even unconscious, he stifled his voice and refused to cry
out as the cold sweat drenched his body.

maybe we should in fact have that conversation about septic shock oh my fucking god this is
the dumbest and most ridiculously medically inaccurate shit

It seemed to take hours to finish applying the medicine and bandage the wounds. Mo Ran dressed
his feverish teacher, laying a thick quilt over him, and sighed in relief. He brewed the medicine
Madam Wang had given him, carrying a bowl back to Chu Wanning’s bedside. “Wake up,” he
said.

With one hand, Mo Ran lifted his unconscious teacher and leaned him against his shoulder. He
used the other to bring the bowl to Chu Wanning’s slack lips, lightly blowing to cool it down. He
fed it slowly to his teacher, but he was only able to tilt half a spoonful of liquid into Chu
Wanning’s mouth before he choked and coughed it all out.

“Is it the bitter taste?” Mo Ran wondered. He knew that, if he were awake, Chu Wanning would
drink it without complaint and sneak a piece of candy afterwards. Mo Ran didn’t think he could
lose his temper at an unconscious person, and instead resigned himself to feeding the mixture to
Chu Wanning in tiny spoonfuls. It wasn’t particularly difficult; he’d performed the same actions in
his previous life. Chu Wanning had resisted him then, and Mo Ran would slap him across the face
before kissing him to force the medicine down, the coppery scent of blood mingling with – Mo
Ran poured too much liquid into his teacher’s mouth in an effort to distract himself, and Chu
Wanning choked again.

“I’m doing this out of the generosity of my heart,” he said, dumping his teacher roughly back down
on the bed. “If you kick off this quilt while you’re already feverish and get sicker, I won’t be held
responsible.” His temper flared and he kicked the leg of the bed. “Why the fuck do I care if you get
sicker? I hope you do! I hope you’re miserable and it kills you.”

Mo Ran turned around and stalked off, getting as far as the door before a gut feeling pulled him
back. He retraced his steps and blew out the candle before leaving again. The second time, he got
as far as the lotus pond before he felt compelled to return. The lotus flowers were red as blood,
vibrant and healthy with Chu Wanning’s life force, and Mo Ran snarled at them as he walked past.

Moonlight shone softly in the half-open bamboo window, illuminating Chu Wanning’s now
peaceful face. Mo Ran stared at the room for a moment before deciding that the open window was
what had bothered him and closing it. Sisheng Peak was humid, he thought, and it wouldn’t be
healthy to let the air in.

“If I come through that door one more time, may I be a dog,” he muttered, and left for the third
time.

Just as Mo Ran cleared the doorway, Chu Wanning flung off the quilt. Mo Ran froze. He couldn’t
go back on his word. He opened the window, and vaulted into the room to replace the quilt.
Hearing the pained, labored breathing and seeing his back shudder, Mo Ran couldn’t muster up
any of his usual anger. His heart ached, and he sat by his teacher’s bedside to keep watch.
Exhaustion slowly settled in, and Mo Ran dozed off.

Mo Ran’s sleep wasn’t restful in the slightest; he could hear Chu Wanning toss and turn and groan
under his breath, and in his light and hazy sleep he didn’t know when he ended up lying next to his
teacher to hold the trembling man in his arms. Still half asleep, he stroked Chu Wanning’s
wounded back and murmured nonsensical comforting phrases, feeling as if he’d returned to his
past life and the empty, somber Wushan Palace.

After Chu Wanning’s death, Mo Ran had slept alone. Thinking now about those endlessly cold
days of loneliness hurt – wishful thinking had consumed him then, but he’d known that Chu
Wanning wasn’t coming back. He held him now, caught between dreams and the haze of sleep,
afraid to open his eyes. He couldn’t tell if he’d been reborn or if that had been just a dream. He was
terrified that he would awaken to a cold bed and the prospect of spending the rest of his life utterly
alone.
Wetness gathered in his eyes as Mo Ran felt the warmth that the thirty-two-year-old the Evil
Overlord had thought he would never feel again. “You’ll be okay,” he murmured, stroking his
teacher’s hair as if he were the Mo Ran of the past. He was so tired that he didn’t realize what he
was saying, and finally fell into a deeper slumber.

Chu Wanning’s eyelashes fluttered the following morning and he slowly woke. His strong
cultivation had reduced his fever, and he tried to pull himself out of bed. He found himself
restrained by another person in bed with him. “Mo Weiyu?” he said aloud, and his student awoke.

“You should let me sleep and go make egg and meat congee for me,” Mo Ran muttered. Chu
Wanning could only stare, and made no move to make him breakfast. Mo Ran’s sleep-fogged mind
declined to press the matter and instead prompted him to reach out and give Chu Wanning a chaste
kiss on the mouth. “Or you can just stay here,” he said. “That’s fine too. I had the most terrible
dream.” He yawned and wrapped himself back around Chu Wanning, who had frozen completely
still. “Never mind,” he said. “Just let me hold you a little longer.”
 Book 1, Part 4: Different Paths - The Sacred Arsenal

The sudden kiss drove Chu Wanning’s ability to understand Mo Ran’s words right out of his head;
all he heard was a distant murmur like heavy rain. Mo Ran, oblivious of Chu Wanning’s desire to
shake an explanation out of him, fell back to sleep. A crabapple tree in full bloom swayed outside
the window, and a single pale pink petal landed on the tip of Mo Ran’s nose. He swiped at it, but
didn’t waken.

Chu Wanning intended to shove him, but his hand picked up the flower petal without his
permission, and he remembered that Mo Ran had dressed his wounds and fed him medicine. He’d
then held him in his arms, gently stroking his hair and whispering softly into his ear. Chu Wanning
was baffled, and thought the memories couldn’t possibly be real. His ear tips turned the same
bright color of the petal between his fingers and the harsh words died in his throat.

The petal drifted through the closed window, I see, and changed color between landing on
MR’s nose and being picked up by CW

There was nothing Chu Wanning could say that didn’t sound like a girl regretting taking a man into
her bed. The barely-even-there kiss was a non-issue – compared to what he and Mo Ran had done
in the illusion, it wasn’t really a kiss at all. He couldn’t bring attention to it without embarrassing
himself.

At a complete loss, the Constellation Saint could only roll over and bury his face in the quilt. His
slender fingers plucked at it irritably before he decided to pry Mo Ran off so that he could rise and
dress himself. He sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed and staring at Mo Ran with a chilly
expression as Mo Ran finally opened his eyes. Cold sweat appeared on Mo Ran’s face.

“Uh, sir,” he said.

“You broke my Flora Spirit Boundary yesterday,” Chu Wanning said.

“I didn’t mean to,” Mo Ran started.

“Shut up,” Chu Wanning said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Go to class.”

Mo Ran scratched his head in agitated confusion. “Why am I in your bed?”

“You look tired,” Chu Wanning said smoothly. “Probably didn’t get much rest yesterday.” He
glanced at the table. “Don’t enter Red Lotus Pavilion unannounced in the future.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may go.” Looking as though he had narrowly escaped death, Mo Ran scurried away. Chu
Wanning lay back down and lifted his arm, stretching out his hand. From the space between his
fingers, he watched the radiant blossoms outside of his window drift and fall like snow in the wind.
Their soft colors mirrored his hazy memories of the previous night – delicate and with an inability
to distinguish truth from wishful thinking. He concluded that he would never speak of the matter
again, prioritizing his precious sense of pride. Saving face was more important than protecting his
life.

The Constellation Saint was elegant and composed when Mo Ran saw him a few days later, white
robes billowing gracefully. Mo Ran took his cue from his teacher, and neither of them spoke of that
night. Mo Ran’s gaze lingered, but Chu Wanning turned away immediately and coldly before
stealing another glance when he thought Mo Ran wasn’t looking.

so I see that we are going to ignore the injuries now, which were Absolutely Terrible for One
Night and are now conveniently Gone, because we will not be consistent in applying narrative
consequences and instead only keep them when convenient

The master of Sisheng Peak, protective to a fault, was furious when he learned of Chu Wanning’s
punishment, but as Xue Zhengyong couldn’t direct his ire at anyone in particular he only closed his
door to sulk alone. He would have made an exception for the elders when writing the rules if he’d
known an elder would actually follow them. His wife made him a soothing pot of tea and
eventually managed to talk him out of his funk.

“He’s too stubborn,” Xue Zhengyong said. “If he tries to do this again in the future, please help me
talk him out of it. He wouldn’t join the upper cultivation sects even when they begged him, and
now he’s over here suffering so badly. How am I supposed to live with myself?”

so you’re okay with beating the shit out of your disciples – teenagers and young adults who
are still learning – but not out of grown-ass adults who should know better?!

“It’s not that I didn’t try,” Madam Wang said. “You know how he is, stubborn to a fault.”

“Ah, forget it. Honey, give me some of those painkillers and tissue-regrowth medicines you made,
I’m gonna go check on him.”

“The white one is to be taken orally. The red one is a topical application.” Madam Wang gave him
two small porcelain bottles. “Ran mentioned that Constellation Saint’s been wiping down the lions
at Naihe Bridge lately. You should be able to find him there.”

Xue Zhengyong tucked the bottles into his pocket and rushed to the jade bridge, where he found
Chu Wanning standing alone on its gentle curve. Shortly past noon, the disciples were all busy
with training; few people were passing by the bridge. Leaves rustled softly on the shores, and Chu
Wanning’s white robes amongst the graceful bamboo made him the picture of refinement.

“Constellation Saint, watching the fish?” Xue Zhengyong said.

“You must be joking, my lord, this river connects to the yellow springs of the Underworld. There
are no fish.”

“I’m just screwing with you. You’re all elegance and no sense of humor. You’ll never find a wife
like that.” He offered the two bottles. “Here, my wife made them. Drink the white one, put the red
one on your skin. Super effective.”

Only Xue Zhengyong’s pride in his wife’s medicine overcame Chu Wanning’s aversion to
accepting help from others; he couldn’t imply that Madam Wang’s contributions weren’t valuable.
“Thank you.”

Although crude, Xue Zhengyong was more reserved in front of Chu Wanning and considered his
next words carefully. “Say, Constellation, the Spiritual Mountain Competition is in three years.
Young talents from every sect will gather to vie for the top. What do you think Meng and Ran’s
odds are?”

“Three years is a long time. I can’t say at the present. But right now, Mo Ran lacks the drive to
improve, and Xue Meng is overly conceited and prone to underestimating his opponents. Neither
has the right attitude.”
His blunt words embarrassed Xue Zhengyong. “Ah, they’re just young,” he muttered.

“They’re adults.”

“You’re not wrong,” Xue Zhengyong admitted, “but still, they’re not even twenty yet.”

“An undisciplined child is the fault of a neglectful father and an irresponsible teacher,” Chu
Wanning said. “If the two of them end up walking the wrong path in the future, that blame will fall
directly on you and I.” Xue Zhengyong said nothing. “Do you still remember Linyi Rufeng Sect’s
two prodigies, my lord, some years back?”

Xue Zhengyong’s heart dropped at the mere mention. Rufeng Sect, the foremost sect of the upper
cultivation realm, had produced a pair of brothers twenty-odd years before. Both were immensely
gifted and equally skilled at a young age – able to take down hundred-year-old demons at the age
of ten and devise new skills at the age of fifteen. They had both fallen victim to their own egos,
falling out with one another and attempting to start their own sects. At that year’s Spiritual
Mountain Competition, the younger brother stole his older brother’s secretly developed technique,
for which he was censured, scorned, and punished by their father. It had broken his pride; he had
turned to evil and become a crazed monster in the end.

Chu Wanning’s point, Xue Zhengyong thought, was that heart was more important than skill.
While he agreed, his love for his son and nephew blinded him to their faults, and he only laughed.
“If you’re guiding them, they won’t end up like those two.”

“Human nature can’t be changed without tremendous resolve,” Chu Wanning said, shaking his
head.

Xue Zhengyong couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy at Chu Wanning’s words, unsure if they had a
hidden meaning. He hesitated before he finally said, “Constellation, do you perhaps look down on
my idiot nephew?” The unexpected misunderstanding caught Chu Wanning so off guard that his
words dried up in his throat, and Xue Zhengyong continued rambling. “Actually, I don’t really care
if they come out on top at the competition or not. Especially Ran, it really wasn’t easy for him,
growing up, it can’t be helped if he’s a little difficult or disobedient. I hope you don’t dislike him
for having been raised in an entertainment house. He’s all I have left of my brother, I can’t stop
feeling guilty for not having been there for him all those years.”

Chu Wanning interrupted him. “My lord is mistaken; if I minded his background, I wouldn’t have
accepted him as a disciple.”

“Good, good,” Xue Zhengyong said with relief.

Chu Wanning’s gaze fell back to the river, surging and crashing beneath the bridge. As it had in
Mo Ran’s previous life, the conversation was washed away by the rushing water. Tragically, Chu
Wanning’s admission that he did not look down on Mo Ran was never heard by a third person.

Three months of confinement passed, and when it ended, Chu Wanning called his disciples to the
Red Lotus Pavilion. “Since your spiritual cores have now stabilized, I’ve called all of you here
today to take you to Dawning Peak, where you may attempt to summon your own weapons.”

Xue Meng and Shi Mei’s eyes widened, faces ecstatic. Dawning Peak was a sacred mountain in the
upper cultivation realm, thousands of feet tall with steep cliffs. Gouchen the Exalted, god of
weaponry, had once forged weapons there, according to legend. He oversaw the northernmost and
southernmost ends of the heavens and controlled all the weapons of the world, and had forged the
first true sword during the Heavenly Emperor’s war against the demons with the mountains as raw
material, the seas as his quenching pool, and his celestial blood as the forging flames.

The first sword pierced heaven and the earth alike, splitting the land into pieces and forcing the
seas to flow in reverse. The Heavenly Emperor had suppressed the demon race with it in hand,
forcing them below the earth and preventing their return with two blows. These blows rendered a
pair of deep gashes in the earth across the human realm.

The skies wept and ghosts howled through the nights after the war. A thousand years of rain
plagued the realm with flooding and desolation until the pair of gashes filled with water to become
the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers and nurture countless lives. Dawning Peak, birthplace of the holy
sword, hence became a sacred place to which many cultivators journeyed. The qi of the gods
remained strong, allowing peculiar flora and mysterious creatures to thrive. Many cultivators
reached enlightenment and ascended to the heavens there.

The most captivating aspect of Dawning Peak was Jincheng Lake, where the holy sword had been
forged. An icy lake at the summit of the peak, it was frozen over year-round. Each morning, it
reflected the light of the rising sun. It was said that its source was the drop of blood cut from
Gouchen's palm, still fresh after many thousands of years, and the waters were so clear that the
bottom of the lake was unobscured. Some cultivators were able to use the power of their spiritual
cores to temporarily thaw the lake, allowing an ancient mythical beast to leap ashore with a
weapon in its mouth and offer it to the cultivator.

Chu Wanning's students were excited at the prospect of visiting the lake. "Sir," Xue Meng asked,
"What kind of mythical beast offered you your holy weapon?"

"A Kunpeng fish-bird," Chu Wanning told him.

Xue Meng’s eyes sparkled. “Awesome! I can’t wait to see a Kunpeng!”

Mo Ran jeered. “Thaw the lake first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t do it?”

Mo Ran laughed. “Don’t get your feathers so ruffled. I said no such thing.”

“It might be something else," Chu Wanning said. "Hundreds of mythical beasts are supposed to
live in the lake. Whichever one likes you will come to offer you its weapon." He paused. "In
addition, they each have their own temperament and will set a quest for you. If you fail, it will take
its weapon back.”

“I see," said Xue Meng. "Sir, what did the Kunpeng request from you?”

“It wanted a meat bun,” Chu Wanning replied. The three disciples were silent for a moment, and
then broke out into laughter.

“You scared me," Xue Meng said. "I almost thought it would be something challenging.”

Chu Wanning smiled a little. “I just got lucky. The requirements these mythical beasts have are
bizarre; they could ask for anything. I once heard of someone who summoned a Xishu giant rat,
which asked for his wife’s hand in marriage. He refused, so the rat took the weapon back and left.
He never got an opportunity to acquire a holy weapon again.”

“What a pity,” Shi Mei murmured.

Chu Wanning glanced at him. “Pity? I respect him for his noble character.”
Shi Mei hurried to correct himself. “No, sir, I didn’t mean it that way. Of course he couldn't sell his
wife. I just think it’s a pity that he missed out on such a godly weapon.”

“It’s just a rumor, anyway,” Chu Wanning said. “Not something I personally witnessed, although I
saw repulsive things many years ago at Jincheng Lake.” He paused as if reminiscing, expression
darkening as his brows furrowed. “Forget it. Who knows what this lake has seen over the last
thousand years, chilling heartlessness or unwavering loyalty. How many people are even capable
of resisting the allure of a holy weapon, of abandoning their chance at advancement, just to stay
true to their heart?” Chu Wanning let out a cold chuckle, as if perturbed, before resuming
an impassive expression.

that speech is long and out of character as it's been established over the last 65000 words

“Sir, we heard that all of Jincheng Lake’s holy weapons have a personality. Was it easy for you to
get the hang of yours when you first got it?” Xue Meng asked, trying to change the topic.

Chu Wanning raised an eyebrow. “I have three holy weapons," he said tonelessly. "Which one are
you asking about?”

------

Only Chu Wanning would deliver such earth-shattering news in such an inappropriately calm tone,
Mo Ran thought distantly, remembering that he never wanted to see his teacher's third holy weapon
again. Xue Meng blinked in astonishment, while Shi Mei tilted his head as if in fascination.

“Did you get Heavenly Questions from Jincheng Lake?” Shi Mei asked.

"I did."

“And the other two?”

“One, yes, one, no. When you get yours, don't worry about its personality. They don't tend to be
strong.”

Xue Meng sighed in admiration. “I'd love to see your other weapons, sir.”

“Heavenly Questions is more than enough for most purposes, and it would be best if the others
remained forever hidden.” Xue Meng reluctantly made a noise of agreement. Chu Wanning noted
his apprentice's hesitation, and made a mental note to provide the proper guidance. Xue Meng's
heart was in the right place, he felt, even if he was combative by nature.

Off to the side, Mo Ran stroked his chin with an enigmatic smile. A weapon's only purpose was to
take life, and a righteous man would use it only as a last resort. Chu Wanning's righteousness
would be his downfall all over again, Mo Ran reflected, simply because he had taken to heart all of
the fictional nonsense about justice triumphing over evil. Chu Wanning deserved the fate of a
prisoner beneath the steps, nothing more than bones in the dirt, despite his exceptional talent and
martial prowess.

“Sir.” Shi Mei’s voice cut off his musing. “I heard that thousands climb Dawning Peak every year
in search of a weapon, but only one or two are able to thaw the lake and no one at all in the last few
years. My cultivation is so weak compared to Ran and the young master, maybe I should just stay
here to practice the basics.”

Mo Ran watched Chu Wanning fail to respond with so much as a shift in his expression; Shi Mei
had stayed behind in his previous life, and Mo Ran grinned at him. “There’s no harm in trying.
Even if it doesn’t work out, just think of it as taking a trip. Why not go out and see the world
instead of staying cooped up at home?”

“No, but, I really am too weak, and there are so many people at Dawning Peak. If disciples from
another sect challenge me to a fight, I’ll lose and embarrass everyone."

“Is that what you were afraid of?” Chu Wanning asked, and Shi Mei couldn't tell whether or not the
question was rhetorical. He felt a creeping chill in his heart and looked up to meet his teacher’s
cold, biting gaze.

“Sir,” he said.

“You specialize in healing," Chu Wanning told him coolly. "Fights are not your forte. If someone
challenges you, simply refuse. There is no shame in it.”

Mo Ran grinned. “Don’t worry, Shi Mei, you have me.”

The three cultivators packed for the trip and set off for the upper cultivation realm. It would be too
physically stressful to ride, and Chu Wanning still declined to travel by sword. A slow ten-day
carriage trip saw them reach Dai City, at the foot of Dawning Peak. The three disciples
disembarked, but Chu Wanning stayed seated. He lifted the bamboo screen.

three cultivators packed for the trip but four arrived at the destination...

“We’ll stay the night here," said the Constellation Saint. "We'll reach Dawning Peak tomorrow.”

Dai City wasn't overly large, but it was affluent and bustling. The women wore silk and jade, and
the men were dressed in expensive brocades. It was easily more opulent than even the richest
locales of the lower cultivation realm. Xue Meng clicked his tongue at the sight.

“Look at these upper cultivation realm mutts," he said. "The scent of meat and wine waft out of the
doors of the rich while the poor starve and freeze to death in the streets.”

Mo Ran disliked it as well, and didn’t quibble with Xue Meng. “No kidding," he said sweetly
instead. "I’m so jealous. No wonder so many people are desperate to move here. Even being a
civilian here is a much better life than down there.”

Chu Wanning donned a silver mask before leisurely alighting from the carriage and glancing at the
crowded streets. Distracted from Mo Ran's sarcasm, Xue Meng asked, “Why are you wearing a
mask?”

“This is Linyi Rufeng Sect’s area," Chu Wanning answered. "It’s best if I don’t show my face
here.”

Seeing the lingering confusion in Xue Meng’s expression, Mo Ran sighed. “Little phoenix, you
must have left your head back home to forget he used to be Linyi Rufeng Sect’s guest master.”

His words jolted Xue Meng’s memory, but the darling of the heavens wasn’t about to admit to an
error. Red-faced, he rolled his eyes instead. “Of course I knew that! But he was only a guest master
there, so there’s no reason he couldn’t just up and leave. Even if the Rufeng Sect people do see
him, what’re they gonna do, drag him back?”

“You blockhead," Mo Ran said snippily. "Do you not remember that he kept his location secret
from the entire upper cultivation realm when he left? That we just tell people we're apprenticed at
Sisheng Peak and not who our teacher is?”
The author is giving the idiot ball to Xue Meng for the sake of very clumsy exposition; there is no
reason for any of them to have forgotten this important information

“No one is supposed to know where you are?” Xue Meng asked. “But you’re so strong. Why do
you need to hide?”

“I’m not hiding. I just don’t want to be bothered.” Chu Wanning twitched his robes into place.
“Let’s go.”

remember when we speculated that in the hands of a better author, we would assume CW
had done something horrible to get kicked out of the upper cultivation realm and end up in
Sisheng Peak, because otherwise why would someone so skilled and accomplished be in such
a trashy sect? Because that would have been an excellent example of subtle foreshadowing. It
has now been made blindingly obvious that subtle foreshadowing is not part of this author’s
skillset, because of course Everyone Wants The Awesomely Amazing Chu Wanning and I
cannot roll my eyes hard enough

“Welcome, will the good sirs be staying with us?” The attendant jogged over, greasy face
gleaming.

“Four rooms,” Xue Meng ordered.

The attendant forced a smile, hands twisting. “I’m so sorry, sir, it’s been so busy that I’m afraid we
don’t have four empty rooms. Would you accept just two?”

Mo Ran sighed internally; they would all just have to share, he thought, but the trouble started
when he demanded to share a room with Shi Mei as their teacher pre-paid the bill.

“Like hell,” said Xue Meng.

Mo Ran feigned shock. “I thought you wanted to stay with our teacher?”

“That’s not,” Xue Meng started. He respected Chu Wanning but he was just as afraid of him, and
he blushed. Mo Ran grinned smugly at the sight.

“My little brother,” he said smugly. “It’s not that you don’t want to be near him, it’s that you’re
afraid of him.”

Eyes perfectly round, Xue Meng tried to deny it. “Why would I be afraid?”

Mo Ran’s shit-eating grin widened. “Did you know he hits people in his sleep?”

Terror and apprehension flashed across Xue Meng’s face before his wits caught up with his heart.
“Hey,” he said. “How do you know what our teacher is like in his sleep? You’ve slept with him?”

Not that Xue Meng meant the double entendre, Mo Ran thought, but he sneered to himself
nonetheless. I’ve slept with him before and I’ve slept with him before, he didn’t say, telling himself
that real men didn’t flaunt past conquests. “See for yourself if you still doubt me,” he said instead.

Xue Meng’s furious rejoinder was interrupted by Chu Wanning joining them again with a mild
“Let’s go.” His three disciples tailed him up the stairs and waited before the doors, united in their
meekness despite their earlier bickering. None of them had any say in how the rooms were
assigned, and could only wait for their teacher. “There are only two rooms,” Chu Wanning said
after a moment. “Which of you –“ He paused, a self-conscious edge to his voice. “Which of you
wants to be with me?”

The question struck him as cautious, even pitiful, unworthy of the Constellation Saint’s style and
status. For a moment, he considered ordering Mo Ran to room with him, but that would make him
no better than a shady bandit carrying off a woman against her will. As a respected cultivation
master, his image was his most prized possession. The night at the Red Lotus Pavilion loomed
large in his memory, and images whirled behind his impassive expression.

“Xue Meng will room with me,” Chu Wanning said finally, lifting his chin with a slight nod.

Mo Ran’s smile dropped unexpectedly off his face; it was exactly the outcome he had wanted, and
yet he was irate that Chu Wanning had rejected him. He resembled nothing so much as a puppy
with a callous owner, a puppy who was regularly fed but otherwise neglected, until his owner
appeared with a bowl of millet seeds instead of his usual bone and patiently fed a beautiful bird
instead. The puppy, Mo Ran, was dumbfounded, having had no doubt that his teacher would have
chosen him.

------

Mo Ran stared at the wall, cheek in hand. Chu Wanning and Xue Meng were on the other side, and
Shi Mei had left a change of clothes folded neatly on the bed before leaving to seek hot water for
bathing. The walls were thin enough that Mo Ran could hear voices from the adjacent room, but he
couldn’t make out what his teacher was saying. Xue Meng’s voice was clear as a bell as Mo Ran
heard him declare something a little tight and then ask if it hurt.

“No, keep going,” Mo Ran heard Chu Wanning say, followed by Xue Meng’s promise to be gentle
and Chu Wanning’s complaint that he talked too much.

Mo Ran could only assume that they were fucking as he pressed his ear to the wall. The faint
sound of clothes rustling reached him under the noise of Chu Wanning’s stifled groans. It sounded
exactly like the type of noise Chu Wanning had made in bed countless times before, when feeling
extreme pleasure or extreme pain, and he could see his teacher biting down on his lower lip in his
mind’s eye. Mo Ran could even see the unshed tears in his teacher’s eyes, remembering how he
would push just a little harder.

“Wait,” Mo Ran heard Chu Wanning say. “Don’t touch that.”

“Would you prefer to do it?” Xue Meng asked.

Before he knew what he was doing, Mo Ran was knocking on the door. A flurry of noises came
from within, and his face grew darker. “Sir,” he called through the door. “What are you doing?”

The door opened with a creak to reveal a fully-dressed Xue Meng holding a piece of blood-stained
gauze. He glared at Mo Ran with narrowed eyes. “What do you want? Trip over a ghost or
something?”

Mo Ran opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. Looking over Xue Meng’s shoulder, he could see
Chu Wanning sitting at the table, fresh bandages and medicinal salve in front of him. “What were
you doing?” he finally got out.

“Treating our teacher’s shoulder injury,” Xue Meng said, glaring. “It hasn’t healed yet. It’s been a
few days since he changed the dressing, and some of the wounds are infected again.”

JFC that has to be osteomyelitis by now and should actually kill him, because we know damn
well and good this society doesn’t have the appropriate antibiotics to treat it, but we’re just
going to keep going Oh No Poor Baby How Sad And Tragic And Noble He Is For Bearing Up
Under So Much Pain because author didn’t do the medical research and also it’s not
admirable to not take care of yourself it is dumb as shit

“What was too tight, then?” Mo Ran asked numbly.

“Too tight?” Xue Meng blinked at him in confusion before his expression cleared. “Oh, the
bandages were wrapped too tightly. They were stuck to the wounds with blood and wouldn’t come
off.” He paused abruptly. “You were eavesdropping?”

Of course bandages can stick to bleeding wounds when the wounds clot, that’s not abnormal,
that’s what saline solution is for and that is not the indication that they were improperly
applied. The adverse outcome of wrapping a wound too tightly is loss of circulation and
perfusion in the affected limb, which has obviously not happened here, oh my fucking god, do
your damn research

Mo Ran scrambled to save his sorry face. “Who’s eavesdropping! The walls here are so thin you
can hear everything, go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, really?” Xue Meng gave him a skeptical look. “Mo Weiyu, you are such a freak!”

Just as angry, Mo Ran retorted, “Who knows what perverted things you might do?”

The one area in which Xue Meng was entirely lacking was precisely where Mo Ran’s implications
landed, and having no idea what Mo Ran was accusing him of only made him angrier. “What are
you talking about? Sir, he-“

“Did you need something?” Chu Wanning interrupted him, putting on his outer robe and looking
Mo Ran up and down. He paced over to stand in front of him.

“I, uh, I heard,” Mo Ran fumbled for words. “Um, stuff, so I thought Xue Meng was bullying you.”

Chu Wanning didn’t understand at all. “Who’s bullying me?”

Mo Ran wanted to slap himself, because now they were awkwardly staring at each other, and Shi
Mei came up the stairs right in the middle of it.

“Ran? What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” Mo Ran stammered. “Um, there was a misunderstanding.”

Shi Mei smiled. “Has it been resolved?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mo Ran said hurriedly. “Shi Mei, didn’t you go ask the attendant for hot water? Our
teacher probably hasn’t bathed either. I’ll go ask them to bring more.”

“No need.” Shi Mei took out four bamboo tablets, smiling. “The attendant said there’s a natural hot
spring by the inn which the innkeeper built into a bath. These tablets are passes, I got one for
everyone.”

Given his proclivities, Mo Ran felt it would be inappropriate for him to enter the hot spring with
his comrades; while he didn’t care about Xue Meng’s orientation and Shi Mei was pure and divine
and not to be lusted after, Mo Ran knew that seeing Chu Wanning naked would drive him mad. He
buried his face in a hand. “I’ll pass,” he said.

“You don’t bathe before bed? Gross!” said Xue Meng.

“I’ll just ask the attendant to send some hot water up.”

“Oh,” Shi Mei said. “They don’t do that here, because they have the hot spring.”

Having no other choice, Mo Ran could only grab a change of clothes and join the others at the hot
spring. The bath had been named Daybreak Reflected in Jincheng to curry favor with the inn’s
primary clientele – cultivators hopeful for a weapon and headed to the lake. Afraid of losing
control of himself, Mo Ran changed in a rush and raced to the hot spring to find a secluded spot.
There were few people there at the late hour, none of them close to one another.

Mo Ran sank into the water up to his eyes with the white towel folded on his head and let out a
breath. Bubbles burst against his skin as the first of his comrades appeared. To his relief, it was
only Xue Meng – handsome though the little phoenix was, he wasn’t the Evil Overlord’s type.

“You stay away from me,” Xue Meng said, unprompted.

“Huh?”

“You’re dirty,” Xue Meng informed him, scrubbing himself clean. He looked through the misty
water vapor. “Sir, we’re over here,” he called.

Mo Ran nearly choked on the water still covering his mouth, looking despite his better judgment. It
nearly killed him – he gasped at the sight, water going down his throat and into his lungs. He sank
even deeper, until only his eyes were above the water, swallowing the mouthful he’d inhaled. Chu
Wanning and Shi Mei had come out together, Shi Mei’s soft and slender beauty a direct contrast to
Chu Wanning’s broad shoulders above a narrow waist firm with toned muscle.

Shi Mei’s inky black hair draped over his shoulders, skin gleaming like the bright moon above, and
he was just as unreachable. Mo Ran’s gaze slid over him to stare at Chu Wanning cold beauty, hair
piled high on his head and skin almost entirely covered with a white bathrobe. The robe was too
small to be pulled closed and exposed a broad expanse of smooth, firm chest. Mo Ran thought he
would suffocate and wanted to look away, but his traitorous eyes refused to obey his command.

Above the water, Mo Ran’s ears turned red. Chu Wanning might have glanced his way through the
heavy mist before placing a waterproof barrier over his bandages and stepping into the water. His
legs were outlined by the wet fabric of his floating robes, long and slender. Mo Ran gave up and
sank entirely beneath the water, feeling entirely wronged. He hated his teacher, but he couldn’t
help but remember all of the times he’d fucked him senseless.

literally the only person who has behaved appropriately here is XM – wash before you soak,
MR, you asshat, and CW? You do not wear a robe into the water, that’s disgusting, AND you
didn’t wash first? Great job, guys, you’ve fouled the entire bath

Mo Ran’s Adam’s apple bobbed as a celestial war raged inside him and he wanted to cry. He hated
himself for his fixation on Chu Wanning while Shi Mei was right in front of him. Whatever
relationship he’d had with his teacher was in the past, and it wasn’t fair to Shi Mei to fail to let go
of it. Mo Ran lowered his head and tried to dispel his wicked thoughts for several long moments
until the fire in his belly faded. He burst out of the water and opened his eyes, only to come face to
face with his teacher.
Even worse, he’d splashed his teacher. Mo Ran watched a single drop leisurely track across Chu
Wanning’s sharp eyebrow toward his beautiful phoenix eye as if in slow motion. Neither of them
spoke. Neither of them had had any idea the other was there, Chu Wanning looking for soap and
Mo Ran entirely submerged with his eyes closed. Mo Ran tried to back away, but the water was
deep and buoyed him right into his teacher’s arms instead.

------

Chu Wanning reached out automatically to steady Mo Ran and the two of them stood pressed
together in the warm spring water. Mo Ran felt a spark go through his body, shivering against his
skin. It far surpassed the near-naked embrace they’d shared at the Red Lotus Pavilion and its dire
circumstances. One hand against Chu Wanning’s chest and the other on his waist, legs tangled
together under water and the heat of the spring melting into his skin, Mo Ran felt the blood rush
straight downward with the intensity of a rushing river.

“Sir,” he said, trying to escape, but that only rubbed his erection against Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning’s eyes widened, face stricken with horror, and he backed immediately away. The
water on his face dripped into his eyes, and he tried to dry them. He had no towel and the robe he
wore was soaking wet.

Face red with absolute shame, Mo Ran grabbed the towel off his own head and wiped it across his
teacher’s face. It did not ease Chu Wanning’s distress, but Mo Ran saw him suppress his panic and
pretend he had felt nothing.

“Pass the soap,” he said.

“Uh, sure.” Mo Ran crabwalked stiffly to the edge of the pool and picked up the box of soap sitting
on the bank. “Which scent would you like?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chu Wanning grunted.

“Uh, none of them are called Doesn’t Matter,” Mo Ran said with utter sincerity.

Chu Wanning sighed. “Crabapple. Or plum blossom.”

Mo Ran saw both, and handed them to his teacher. Their fingertips brushed, and he trembled again.
He couldn’t shake off his memories – if this had been the past, the two of them would have been
entwined by the side of the pool already no matter who was watching. A vision appeared unbidden
before his mind’s eye, Chu Wanning half-kneeling as he tried to resist while Mo Ran fucked him
until he came.

Tearing his eyes away, Mo Ran quickly finished washing himself and muttered that he was sleepy
and would go to bed first. His carnal desires turned his vision red, and even looking at Shi Mei
seemed safer than thoughts of his teacher. He bolted to his room and locked the door.

again, you wash before you soak

Although it seemed safer to soil Shi Mei’s pure image than think of his teacher, it was Chu
Wanning’s face Mo Ran saw in his mind’s eye as he masturbated himself to climax. When he
finished, he rested his forehead against the cold wall with a mix of shame, loathing, and lingering
arousal. He hadn’t expected to still have such strong reactions to his teacher and was disgusted with
himself.

For years, Mo Ran had told himself that he’d poured his passions into other relationships because
he couldn’t have Shi Mei; even Rong Jiu had been fascinating because of his resemblance to Mo
Ran’s beloved. The feelings he had for Chu Wanning, he was now realizing, were completely
different. The intense pleasure he got from their interactions was unlike anything he felt with
prostitutes. Mo Ran shut down that line of thought. He was, always had been, and always would be
in love with Shi Mei.

Slowly calming his breathing, Mo Ran closed his eyes. Anxiety and annoyance still flooded him;
he didn’t want to automatically associate Chu Wanning with lustful thoughts and then go right
back to hating his teacher when he wasn’t aroused. He wanted to be in love with Shi Mei.

Back in the hot spring, Chu Wanning was also distressed. He had seen and felt his student’s
obvious desire. His sixteen-year-old body was quite mature, like hot iron waiting to be forged. Chu
Wanning showed nothing on his face, but his mind was full of static and disbelief. He too had had
an erection, fortunately hidden by the bathrobe he habitually wore even in a hot spring, or he never
would have been able to face his disciples again.

omfg what is wrong with you do not wear clothes in hot springs that is so incredibly
disrespectful

In his bed later that night, Chu Wanning still couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t fathom that Mo Ran
might be attracted to him, pinching himself before his mind could complete the thought. His
personality was too harsh for anyone to love him, and he beat others besides. His bad temper and
his cruel words, combined with his lack of good looks when compared to Shi Mei, not to mention
his advanced age, ensured that he could not be desired. Even if he liked men, Mo Ran couldn’t
possibly have such poor judgment. Chu Wanning was aloof and haughty on the outside, but years
of cold treatment by others had slowly destroyed his self-esteem as he walked a long and lonely
road.

this is seriously some incel bullshit, because CW has the ability to Not Do all of the shit that
he is telling himself makes him unattractive – he treats others poorly, so they react by not
being friendly, and then he acts as though it’s not his fault that no one likes him and there is
nothing to be done and he just sits there pitying himself instead of making the effort, but he’s
already indicated that treating others well is beneath his dignity and it is just such fucking
bullshit and I am 100% done with his Oh Poor Me act

Both Chu Wanning and Mo Ran held secrets in their hearts as they met in the hallway of the inn
the next day, neither of them wanting to speak until Mo Ran put on the mask of normalcy. “Sir,” he
said with a smile.

Relieved to not face any consequences, Chu Wanning only nodded. “We should wake Shi Mei. We
can pack quickly and depart for Dawning Peak.”

Covered in snow all year, Dawning Peak was exceedingly cold, even for a cultivator. Not having
brought cold-weather gear from home, Chu Wanning went to the tailor to buy overpriced winter
cloaks and gloves for his disciples. The shopkeeper smiled around her pipe, lips painted bright red.
“What a handsome young fellow,” she said to Mo Ran. “The embroidery on this black cape’s
golden dragon is of the highest quality. See the light in its eyes?” She paused. “It took me more
than three months to complete!”

Mo Ran laughed a little, embarrassed. “Miss, your words are very sweet, but I’m just going into the
mountains to seek a weapon. There’s no need for me to wear something so formal and ornate.”

The shopkeeper tried Shi Mei, instead. “Young prince, more beautiful than the loveliest girl in the
city, this red peony and butterfly cloak would suit you perfectly.”

Shi Mei forced a smile. “Miss, aren’t those women’s clothes?”

Xue Meng avoided the aggressive sales pitch by refusing to join the expedition at all; despite
having been long established as a peacock who took great pride in his appearance, he hated
shopping for clothes. For him, Chu Wanning chose a black cloak with purple lining and white
rabbits embroidered around the brim.

“Sir,” the shopkeeper interjected, “this cloak is a bit small for you. It would be better suited for a
teenager.”

“It’s for my disciple,” Chu Wanning said expressionlessly.

“Oh!” The shopkeeper quickly smiled. “You must be a great teacher.”

No one had ever assumed Chu Wanning to be a good teacher; he froze, face betraying nothing, but
his gait was uneven as he walked away. Mo Ran chose a light gray cloak and Shi Mei a moonlight-
white garment. For himself, Chu Wanning chose white with a dark purple lining. Xue Meng was
displeased with his cloak, but refused to say so aloud when Chu Wanning asked what was wrong;
he only muttered that he disliked purple when he thought his teacher was out of earshot. He
flinched when he heard Chu Wanning coldly reply that if he didn’t like it, he could freeze instead
of wearing it.

Despite their leisurely pace, the four cultivators reached Dawning Peak and the end of the road
before nightfall. It was rich in spiritual power, home to many beasts and monsters. Even cultivators
tread cautiously, but Chu Wanning’s presence was enough that the group had no worries. He
conjured three crabapple petals from thin air and imbued them with spirit-repelling properties.
Each disciple received one, tucked into his sash.

Mo Ran looked at the peaks outlined against the night sky, resembling a huge, ancient beast
crouched deathly still, and a myriad of emotions poured into his heart. In the past, he had stood on
Dawning Peak to declare to the sun and moon, ghosts and demons, that he was not satisfied with
the current cultivation world and would be its new ruler. It was on Dawning Peak that same year
that he’d taken a wife and concubine.

They reached it before nightfall or it’s dark when they get there, make up your mind

His wife, Song Qiutong, had been a real unparalleled beauty and from certain angles had strongly
resembled Shi Mei. Uncaring of etiquette or honor or the tedious rites of marriage, Mo Ran had
simply taken Song Qiutong’s delicate hand and pulled the red-veiled woman up a flight of
thousands of stairs. They had walked for over an hour, until Song Qiutong had been in too much
pain to continue. Mo Ran had lost his temper at her frailty, but before he could yell at her, he saw
Shi Mei reflected in her face under the moonlight.

The angry words had died in his mouth. “Shi Mei,” he’d said with a shaky breath. “I’ll carry you.”
His wife had made no complaint at his choice of name, and for the last several thousand steps, the
Evil Overlord, Master of the Mortal Realm, Ruler of the Shadows, steadily, one foot in front of the
other, had carried his red-adorned bride to the peak. He’d lowered his head and watched their oddly
shaped shadows moving on the ground, overlapping with each other.

He’d laughed a little. “Shi Mei, I’m the Master of the Mortal Realm now. From this day on, no one
will be able to hurt you.” The woman on his back hadn’t known what to say, only making a soft
sound of assent, and she hadn’t been able to see Mo Ran’s eyes fill with tears at the voice that
could have been his beloved’s. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long,” he’d said.

Song Qiutong, thinking Mo Ran was admitting a long-term infatuation with her, had replied softly,
“Husband.” Although her voice was clear and crisp like morning dew, feminine and pleasing to the
ear, Mo Ran had jerked to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Mo Ran had started walking again, and when he spoke, he had had control of his voice.
“In the future, it’s better if you call me Ran.”

Song Qiutong had been caught off guard, and wasn’t so bold as to be so familiar. “Husband,” she’d
said.

Mo Ran had threatened to throw her off the mountain, and his wife had quickly apologized and
done as he’d asked. Mo Ran had remained silent, lowering his head and continuing to walk.
Remembering it now, he could clearly see that the shadows on the ground had only been shadows
and he’d seen only what he’d wanted to see – it had all been in vain.

“Shi Mei,” Mo Ran said.

“Yeah?” Shi Mei replied, over the sounds of shifting leaves and rustling grass. The light of the
moon reflected onto his face. “Ran, what is it?”

“Are you tired from walking?” Mo Ran glanced at Chu Wanning and Xue Meng in front of them
and whispered, “If you’re tired, how about I give you a piggy-back ride?”

Before Shi Mei could reply, Chu Wanning turned to look back at them. He glared coldly at Mo
Ran. “Are Shi Mingjing’s legs broken? Does he need you to carry him?”

“Sir,” Shi Mei said hurriedly, “Ran was just joking, don’t be angry.”

Chu Wanning frowned severely. “Ridiculous. What do I have to angry about.” He whirled back
around with a flick of his sleeve.

Mo Ran and Shi Mei looked at each other. “He seems mad, though,” Shi Mei said softly.

“You know how he is,” Mo Ran whispered back. “His own heart is smaller than a needle tip, cold-
blooded and heartless. Can’t even stand to see other people doing good things for their peers.” He
wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice even further. “Seriously the worst.”

Chu Wanning’s voice rang out from in front of them. “Mo Weiyu, if you say one more word, you’ll
find yourself thrown down the mountain!”

Mo Ran silenced himself as if in obedience, but secretly grinned over at Shi Mei and mouthed,
‘See, what’d I say?’

------

“The cold moon reflects upon the frosty snow; the frozen mountain embraces the icy lake. The
tallest of the tall cannot be crossed, and the despair of the world is in this timely moment.” Xue
Meng wiped snow off of the large boulder with gloved hands and read the cinnabar inscription
aloud. “Sir, we’re here.”

A luscious crescent moon was high in the sky, its shimmering glow blanketing the icy lake. Cold
air embraced thick forest leaves in an absolute world of ice. Not a trace of snow graced the surface
of Jincheng Lake, its surface clear as a sheet of glass arcing between sky and earth beneath
snowfall resembling the Milky Way itself fallen upon mere mortals or ten thousand miles of falling
stars, a scene peerless in magnificence. It was the end of humanity, to a world covered in
beautifully untainted snow.

I still remember that they reached the lake before nightfall but ok

The group reached the lake, its surface mirror-smooth and filled with magnificent, glimmering
light. A stone embankment stretched to the center of the lake, and a frost-covered stone tablet lay
next it. Intersecting patterns spread across the stone around the simple phrase The Path Forward is
Difficult written in powerful calligraphy.

“Only one person can go into Jincheng Lake at a time to seek a weapon,” said Chu Wanning.
“Which of you will go first?”

“Sir, I’ll go first!” Xue Meng said rashly.

Chu Wanning thought about it for a moment, but shook his head. “You’re too hasty.”

Shi Mei laughed a little and said, “Sir, how about I go in first, since I probably can’t break through
the icy lake anyway.” He crept along the stone embankment, which was only wide enough for one.
In accordance with custom, he summoned a ball of qi to his hand and leaned over to place it against
the ice. The qi traveled along the surface of the ice until a white light flickered from the distance.

Mo Ran held his breath from afar and clenched his hand into a fist. No matter how long Shi Mei
tried, the ice remained firm. With a forced smile, he gave up and walked back. “Sir, my apologies.”

“No matter. Try again after cultivating a few more years.”

More disappointed than either of them, Mo Ran went to comfort Shi Mei. “It’s fine, you’ll get
more chances. Next time I’ll come with you to try again.”

“Don’t yap so much,” Chu Wanning said. “Step up, it’s your turn now.”

In his past life, Mo Ran had made this journey during his most carefree days of youth with nothing
but boundless enthusiasm toward the prospect of a holy weapon. In this life, it was mundane; he
already knew what would be waiting for him. He felt no anxiousness or expectation but rather a
kind of warmth, as if he was about to reunite with an old friend. He walked along the stone
embankment and knelt before the icy lake.

Bending down, Mo Ran pressed his palm against the surface of the ice and closed his eyes. His
long, bare blade – the sinful, vicious blade which had witnessed the world’s flowers and tasted all
the blood in the human realm – awaited him. He whispered to it. “No Return, I’m here.”

As if sensing the call of its destined master, a huge black shadow suddenly appeared under the
surface of the ice. It became clearer and more vivid until thousands of feet of ice loudly shattered.
Mo Ran could hear Xue Meng’s distant shout of alarm from the shore. Water surged up, waves
crashing against the form of a huge, turquoise-black dragon, each scale on its body seven feet wide.
Jincheng Lake’s surface flooded instantly with heavy fog, blanketing the dragon shimmering
brilliantly under the moonlight. It spouted a breath from its nose as an ancient barrier fell around
the edge of the lake to separate Mo Ran from the others.

Inside of the barrier, human and dragon regarded each other through silver mist. Mo Ram could
see the bare blade in the dragon’s jaws, ancient yet still thick and sharp, capable of carving iron
and smashing gold. The dragon shrunk the blade until it could fit Mo Ran’s hand and slowly
lowered itself to place the blade in front of Mo Ran. It didn’t lift its head immediately, instead
turning to stare at him. Mo Ran’s own image stared back at him, reflected clearly in the dragon’s
eyes. He stood with bated breath, waiting for it to speak.

If nothing had changed, he only needed to retrieve a plum blossom from the foot of the mountain
and bring it back. The old dragon he’d seen sought only peace and elegance, giving him an easy
task, but Mo Ran hadn’t realized that this was not the same dragon. This dragon’s beard fluttered
as it narrowed its enormous golden eyes and lifted its front claw to write in the snow.

Mortal one?

Mo Ran stared. The dragon should have been able to speak; why, he thought, was it mute? It
regarded him for another moment then wiped away the writing and produced another sentence.

No, a mortal would not have such strong qi. Are you a god?

The dragon thought better of it, writing again.

Not a god; you have evil energy in your body. Are you a kind of demon?

Mo Ran desperately wanted to shout at the dragon for its nonsense; he’d been reborn, there was no
reason to stand there deliberating instead of giving him his sword. The old dragon seemed like it
could sense his impatience for his weapon, and suddenly lifted its scaly claws to press the blade
underneath its foot. It wrote again on another patch of snow.

No need to take offense. I saw two other shadows in your body. I have never seen anything like it in
my life. So tell me, are you a mortal or ghost? God or demon?

Mo Ran raised an eyebrow. “Of course I’m human.” Technically it was true; he was just a human
who had already died once.

The old dragon paused for a moment. One human soul, split like this. This really is never seen
before, unheard of, it wrote, and shook its head in a puzzled manner.

Mo Ran couldn’t help but find it funny. “What’s so strange about that? Anyway, Elder, what’ll
take it for you to give me the blade?”

The old dragon stared at him.

Stand there and don’t move. Let me use a technique to peer into your soul, and I’ll give the blade
to you. How is that?

Mo Ran would never have predicted that request. Under the dragon’s profound stare, he began to
feel hesitant – if it could see his past life, it might not give him the weapon. No Return being
almost within his grasp gave him pause; it had a strong, fierce power and was one of the rarest holy
weapons in existence, and if he refused he’d never have the chance to possess it again. “That’s fine,
Elder, but will you give me the blade no matter what you see inside of me?”

The old dragon drew on the ground.

These are the terms; I keep my word.

“Whether I was good or evil in the past?” Mo Ran pressed.

The old dragon paused for a moment.

Even if you were evil in the past, I will not stop you. I can only hope that you will pursue goodness
in the future.

Mo Ran smiled into his hand. “Then I have no objections. Please examine all you like, Elder.”

The old dragon lifted itself slightly. Its radiant, serpentine body bowed and it exhaled from its nose.
Both eyes emitted a bright red haze, showing Mo Ran a hazy indistinct shadow on either side of his
reflection. Mo Ran whipped around in shock, but behind him was only emptiness and unceasingly
falling snow.

As he turned back, the figures in the dragon’s eyes became clearer, as if something sunken in water
was slowly floating up to the surface. The two silhouettes were extremely familiar; Mo Ran took a
step forward and their closed eyes snapped open as their faces crystallized into Shi Mei and Chu
Wanning.

Mo Ran staggered backwards in shock, stuttering so much he couldn’t speak. The three people in
the old dragon’s eyes stood quietly, expressions without a hint of emotion, staring into the distance.
The blood red fog rose again and the figures in the dragon’s eyes blurred until they disappeared
altogether. The old dragon huffed out its nose, shook its body, and then wrote quickly.

I cannot make sense of it. I have seen much in my lifetime, but I have never seen a person’s soul
with the imprints of two others upon it. Utterly perplexing.

“My soul has their imprints?”

Yes. A pause. I do not know what happened to you. How deep must an obsession run, for another
person to be entangled so tightly in one’s own soul?

Mo Ran stared at the messy lines in the snow, face growing red as if he were being suffocated.
That his obsession with Shi Mei ran so deep through his bones as to imprint upon his soul wasn’t
surprising. He was shocked, on the other hand, to have also seen Chu Wanning – perhaps it was
the extreme hatred, he thought, that had created such an entanglement.

Human and dragon were so immersed in contemplation that they did not notice when the surface of
Jincheng Lake started to ripple unnaturally. The water rushed up and the waves broke through, the
surface of the lake split apart as if sliced by a sword. The water on both sides rushed up toward the
sky on either side of two tightly packed groups of beasts rushing out of the waves.

The beasts had the bodies of leopards and the heads of oxen. Smaller than the old dragon, the horns
on their head shone coldly, and all of their claws were sharp and menacing. Despite their hundreds,
the old dragon showed no fear and only looked at them askance.

“What happened?” Mo Ran asked.

The Exalted Gouchen.

When he read the four words, Mo Ran felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. Gouchen the
Exalted, he thought in a daze, the god of weapons, the founding god who created the first sword in
the world and helped the Heavenly Emperor Fuxi lay waste to his demonic enemies. He’s actually
these hundreds of cows? Mo Ran thought, but it was too horrifying to accept. As he stared blankly,
he heard the sound of an ocarina coming from far away.

As the music approached, the raucous group of beasts slowly stilled and bent their forelegs until
they kneeled along both sides. A handsome man with delicate and benign features in splendid
robes with a long sword rode a qilin through the path. As he stood playing the smooth, deeply
colored ocarina, his robes gently billowed in the wind and the snow fell. When the music finished
playing on a soft note, the beasts suddenly dissolved into water. He put down the clay ocarina,
looking at Mo Ran, and gently smiled.

“Truly a strange person, the likes of whom are rarely encountered. No wonder you piqued
Wangyue’s interest,” he said. “I am Gouchen the Exalted, who forged all of these objects of little
consequence. Please excuse my humble work.”

Despite the words of both the old dragon and the man before him, Mo Ran couldn’t believe it.
“You’re Gouchen the Exalted?”

The man smiled patiently. “Yes.”

On the verge of choking, Mo Ran stammered, “God of a Thousand Weapons? That guy?”

“Correct.” Gouchen the Exalted raised his eyebrows delicately, laughter in his eyes. “The later
generations do seem to call me that. How embarrassing. I just make a few trinkets when I’m bored,
yet people idolize me so.”

False humility, Mo Ran felt, was the most grating thing on earth. His teacher’s deliberately off-
hand reference to his multiple holy weapons had been bad enough, but the man in front of him was
even worse. The prized objects he created weren’t trinkets and deserved respect. He stewed for a
while and finally said, “Shouldn’t you be in the heavenly realm? What are you doing in the lake?”

“I like to fight, so I often ended up disturbing the Emperor’s peace and quiet. After I pissed him off
one too many times, I figured it was better to just stay down here.”

“How long have you been here?” Mo Ran asked.

Gouchen looked thoughtful. “Not too long. A few hundred years.”

“A few hundred years,” Mo Ran repeated, and then laughed drily. “Doesn’t the Exalted God think
that’s a bit long?”

Gouchen’s expression was placid. “It’s not too long. Besides, forging a sword for the Heavenly
Emperor used up much of my spiritual power and the abundantly opulent heavenly realm gets
rather boring; it’s much better here.”

sour grapes much, buddy?

Despite his curiosity, Mo Ran decided it wasn’t his place to pry into the personal matters of the
legendary god of weapons and he had more pressing matters at hand besides. “Exalted Elder,” he
said,
“you didn’t come out to see me today just because you thought my soul was special, right?”

“Why not? Your spiritual power is rare.” Gouchen smiled. “I worry that if I give you this blade, it
would be wasted potential.”

“It’s not too bad,” Mo Ran replied. “It seems like it would suit me.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too,” Gouchen continued pleasantly. “But then I found that it isn’t
the case. I’m curious about your rare talent, so I want to invite you to the bottom of the lake for a
chat. We’ll see which among those millions of blades would be best suited for you.”

Even compared to the many experiences of the Evil Overlord’s previous life, Mo Ran found
himself in an unexpected situation. He choked at the thought that the god of weapons was inviting
him to pick his own, and Gouchen the Exalted took his silence for fearful reluctance.

“There’s no need for you to worry,” he said. “Even though there are many monsters under the
water, they all answer to me. I guarantee they will not harm you. Wangyue can testify to it.”

The old dragon said nothing, slowly bowing, and Mo Ran realized that he had received a genuine
invitation. He felt a jolt in his heart. “Would the Exalted God grant me a request?”

“What kind of request?”

“The person who sought a weapon before me is a close friend of mine.” Mo Ran pointed to the
shores beyond the barrier. “He was denied just now, so I’m thinking, if I grant the Exalted God’s
wish, then can the Exalted God grant my wish as well and give him a weapon?”

Gouchen laughed. “It would be easy.” He flicked a hand, and the ancient barrier covering the sky
disappeared. “This is a simple matter. Let all three of them come over, and if any weapon catches
their eyes, it is as good as theirs.”

Mo Ran was delighted by the unexpected solution to his problem, and more excited by the
prospect of Shi Mei receiving a holy weapon than his own potential upgrade. With Gouchen
standing off to the side, Mo Ran waved his comrades over and excitedly relayed what had
happened. However, as Chu Wanning stepped out from behind his disciples, Gouchen blinked as if
recognizing him.

“You?” said the god of weapons.

------

Showing a reaction to even gods or immortals was beneath Chu Wanning. “Does the Exalted God
recognize me?”

what a fucking asshole

Gouchen smiled in a refined manner. “Many years ago, when you came to Jincheng Lake in search
of a weapon, the depth and purity of your spiritual strength was such that I almost couldn’t resist
coming out to see you. Is the weapon to your liking?”

“Which weapon is the Exalted God referring to?”

ok mary sue

“How absentminded of me, to forget that I gave you two,” Gouchen said with a slight smile.

“No matter,” Chu Wanning said. “Heavenly Questions works very well.”

“Heavenly Questions?”

“The willow vine.”

Gouchen was still smiling. “So that’s what you named it. What do you call the other one?”

“Jiu’ge.”

“How is Jiu’ge?”

this seems incredibly rude; even if it weren’t a god, knowing what someone is asking and
making it difficult for them for absolutely no fucking reason – dude is asking how you like
THE GIFTS HE GAVE YOU – is a dick move, fucking hell, you absolute prick, CW

“It has a chilling nature. I rarely use it.”

Gouchen sighed. “What a shame.” He turned to the dragon, having finished speaking with Chu
Wanning. “Wangyue, I’ll be taking them down below. Please head back soon yourself, as it’s not
healthy for you to be up here where the qi is so thin.” The old dragon nodded and dove into the
lake, glittering scales vanishing beneath the water.

Chu Wanning ignored the god to cast water-repelling charms on himself and his three disciples,
inviting admiration from Gouchen the Exalted. The god, having rarely seen such proficiency in his
thousands of years watching cultivators, was impressed and wondered who his teacher was. Chu
Wanning’s attitude of aloofness made even the immortal understand that it would be inappropriate
to pry.

this reads very much like an example of Shilling The Wesley played straight

Armed with Chu Wanning’s charm, the four cultivators were as unhindered under the freezing
waters of Jincheng Lake as they would have been on land. A seemingly boundless underwater
world slowly opened up before them, with plants drifting gently in the currents among rows upon
rows of finely detailed buildings lining intersecting streets of white sand. The streets were full of
myriad monsters and beasts, appearing to coexist in harmony.

“Jincheng Lake’s plentiful qi embodies a kind of paradise,” Gouchen explained. “The creatures
who make their home here stay for generations, and may not behave as one might expect in the
human realm. You’re welcome to look around, if you wish.”

A snow-white rabbit with scarlet eyes rode past on a tiger, punctuating his words. The rabbit was
dressed in white robes, poised and arrogant as it berated the meek, obedient tiger to go faster. The
four cultivators watched, speechless. Countless shops crowded both sides of the main road, while
the street itself was full of creatures. The four cultivators followed Gouchen the Exalted through
the crowd, arriving eventually at the center of the city. Even more demons had gathered there,
strange to their eyes.

“Jincheng Lake rarely has visitors, but you can barter for nearly anything you need here.”

“Legend has it that Jincheng Lake was formed from your blood,” Xue Meng said. “If your qi is
what’s sustaining it, wouldn’t that make you the master of this place?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Gouchen smiled a little. “Besides, that’s all in the past. My spiritual
strength declined when I left the realm of the gods, and those heaven-and-earth-shattering events
seem almost like a dream now. I’m just a mere swordsmith.”

The lake’s denizens demonstrated the truth of Gouchen’s words, peddling their wares as he walked
past without minding him at all. Mo Ran heard them hawking fish blood buns and Shuairan
Snakeskin leather, squid ink brow filler made with ink spat out by the seller; in another corner, a
headless ghost selling combs and makeup brushed the hair of its own bloody head on its lap with
long, scarlet-painted fingernails. “High quality bone combs,” Mo Ran heard it say.

Xue Meng glanced left and right, eyes wide, and noticed an apothecary staffed by mermaids – its
medicinal herbs were unfamiliar, and he started toward it with the intent of bringing them home to
his mother. He was interrupted by a shrill voice from behind him demanding he make way, and he
looked down to see a tiny pile of rocks scurrying along the street. “Uh,” he said. “Is it a rock spirit
or something?”

“Fuban Bug,” Chu Wanning grunted.

“Pug?”

Chu Wanning shot him a look. “It’s one thing for Mo Ran to not pay attention in class, but you
too?”

While dedicated to the practice of martial arts and always upright and attentive during class, Xue
Meng had no patience for literature or history – everything Chu Wanning had tried to teach them
went in one ear and out the other. His face reddened now, having been caught. Worse, Mo Ran
laughed at him.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said. “I totally listened in that lecture.”

Xue Meng decided to call his bluff. “Oh? You explain it, then.”

“Fuban is a type of bug, very greedy by nature. It tries to gather up any and all pretty rocks it sees,
and usually ends up crushed to death under its pile of rocks.” Mo Ran looked expectantly at Chu
Wanning with a grin on his face. “Sir, am I right?”

Chu Wanning nodded. “It’s extinct in the outside world. I didn’t expect to see one here.”

Gouchen laughed. “This one just lucked out. It’s only still alive thanks to the local apothecary.
Watch, here he comes.”

They watched the bug trudge to the steps of the apothecary and yell, “I can’t take it anymore!
Hurry and save me, doctor!”

A turquoise sea dragon quickly emerged; clearly used to the bug, he smiled and poured golden red
liquid medication out of a white porcelain bottle as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. “Good
harvest today, clever one?”

pouring liquid medication through the water is actually the weird thing here

Enjoying its medicinal bath, the bug huffed. “Not bad, not bad,” it said. “If I get another hundred
tomorrow, I’ll have four million eighty five thousand six hundred and seventeen rocks at home.”

Only Shi Mei mustered up any sort of verbal response as the three disciples looked on in shock.
“That’s, uh, quite a hoard,” he mumbled.

The dragon finished administering the medication. “Remember to come earlier tomorrow, or even
this strengthening dew won’t save you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come earlier,” the bug said, but then a rock in the corner caught its eye. “Hey,
little eel,” it hollered. “I mean, Dr. Dragon, could you put that pretty rock on my back?”

Xue Meng couldn’t resist. “What do you need so many rocks for? Are you building a house?”

“A human?” came the bug’s shrill, conceited voice. “I haven’t seen one of you for so long- hey,
what’s it to you what I want rocks for?”

Shi Mei was too curious not to butt in. “What are they for then?”

“To count!” the bug said, as if it were the obvious answer.

Anyway, after they strolled around briefly, Gouchen guided them to his residence. An enormous
seashell had been erected on the corner of the street, resembling a folding screen, concealing a
large courtyard divided into six sections. Halls and corridors led to side wings and flower gardens,
bead curtains made of pearls and kelp swaying gently in the water. Some rooms were dark while
others were lit with candle light, and graced with faint notes of harp and ocarina.

candles underwater, you say

All the servants in the god’s residence were merfolk, some with dragon tails and others with legs
ending in bare feet. Gouchen waved a hand airily. “I live with my good friend Wangyue,” he said.
“Formerly the crown prince of the eastern seas. He brought these servants when he took up
residence here.”

As the dragon had gifted Mo Ran with his holy weapon in his previous life, he was rather fond of
it. “Where is he, anyway?” he asked with a grin. “He probably assumes a different form down
here, right? Or he wouldn’t fit.”

Gouchen nodded cheerfully. “Of course, but he gets tired easily in his old age. He’s probably
already resting after going above water. You’ll have to wait for him to wake up if you want to see
him.”

A merman with long brown hair floated over and bowed deeply to Gouchen. “Exalted God,” he
said in a soft, graceful voice. “Welcome back. Lord Wangyue has explained everything. Would the
Exalted God like to take the guests to the holy weapon arsenal forthwith?”

Instead of immediately answering, Gouchen looked politely to his guests and nodded when they
gave assent. “Very well,” he said. “Please have the kitchen prepare food and wine. We shall dine
when we return.”

The arsenal was in the deepest section of the estate, reached through a courtyard with a massive
willow tree towering toward the skies. Its trunk was so thick that ten men standing hand to hand
would not have reached around it, bark ancient and twisting. Vines hung from it like an emerald
curtain to the ground.

did we forget again that we are underwater

“How old is this tree?” Xue Meng asked.

“I’m not sure,” Gouchen replied. “At least a hundred thousand years.”

Startled, Xue Meng blurted, “What kind of tree is it, to live that long?”

“Trees naturally live longer than humans, and this one in particular was nourished by the qi of
Jincheng Lake,” Gouchen said repressively. “Please follow me closely. The entrance to the arsenal
is in the tree.” He looked at Xue Meng. “Please don’t touch the branches. It has already cultivated
a spirit and can feel pain.”

Xue Meng had already plucked a leaf. He yelped over the sound of a pained groan drifting faintly
through the air and hurriedly dropped the leaf. “Why is there blood?” he asked.

A small stream of blood trickled down the branch, and the discarded leaf writhed on the ground
until it curled up and withered away. “It’s a spirit,” Gouchen said. “Why would you pluck its
leaves?” He shook his head and examined the wound, soothing the willow and staunching the
bleeding with his qi.
I am just going to stop paying attention to the fact that the author only wants objects to
behave as if they’re underwater when it’s narratively convenient or when it Looks Cool

“Xue Meng,” Chu Wanning said. “Come here and don’t touch anything else.”

“Yes, sir.” Understanding he’d erred, Xue Meng hung his head and obeyed.

The founding god graciously accepted Chu Wanning’s apology, saying only that the young master
had a swift hand. Xue Meng blushed red as he stuck close to his teacher.

Following Gouchen, the cultivators passed through the curtain of lush branches and arrived at the
trunk. The willow seemed even more overwhelming up close than it had from a distance, its trunk
thicker and its leaves greener. A hollow in the trunk formed a huge arched gateway wide enough
for three brawny men to pass through and protected by numerous complex barriers. Gouchen
dispelled them one by one before turning to the cultivators with a smile.

“Please come in,” he said. “Accept my apologies for the arsenal being rather small and messy.”

Curious, Mo Ran tried to follow right on Gouchen’s heels but found himself held back by his
teacher.

“Don’t rush,” Chu Wanning said mildly, slipping in ahead of Mo Ran. It was the same pattern of
behavior that Mo Ran remembered from his previous life – Chu Wanning would take point every
time they sallied forth to suppress demons. Mo Ran had thought then it was borne of arrogance and
a desire not to be outdone by his young disciples, but he thought now that he had been mistaken.
As Chu Wanning’s white robes disappeared into the darkness of the tree, Mo Ran doubted he was
motivated by impatience and arrogance.

idk, Mo Ran, Chu Wanning’s unwillingness to let his disciples learn through experience is
kind of helicopter parent-y and besides, there is zero reason to assume it’s going to be
dangerous in there

------

A long flight of stairs made of smooth, slippery stone led them down through a narrow passage to
a bright light at the end. The Exalted Gouchen’s small and messy arsenal was larger on the inside
than it appeared on the outside, as if it encompassed the heavens above and swallowed the earth
below. It was lined with towering shelves packed with tens of thousands of weapons proudly on
display, so tall that they couldn’t see the ceiling, a vision of boundless grandeur and immense
splendor.

In the center of the arsenal, several unfinished weapons soaked inside a smelting pool and radiated
waves of blistering heat from the red-hot molten metal. The intense, searing heat made them
glisten all the more, radiant and resplendent. Parts soared through the air on their own, tiny
decorative pieces and ornamental jewels colliding with delightful tinkles like so many glittering
fairies

“It’s a little cramped in here,” Gouchen said, smiling.

Mo Ran wondered if calling the god of weapons a motherfucker would be out of line. Gouchen the
Exalted answered their stunned silence by instructing Mo Ran’s fellow disciples to choose
whatever weapon struck their fancy. He took a personal interest in Mo Ran, handing him several
different weapons and then taking them rapidly away.
“I don’t know how to play,” Mo Ran told him, when Gouchen handed him a smooth, glossy zither
scorched black in the back.

“Just give it a strum,” Gouchen said, and Mo Ran tried. The weapon resonated shrilly and
Gouchen snatched it away, giving Mo Ran a jade lute instead.

“Uh,” Mo Ran said, feeling that the lute was a womanly instrument better suited to the girly boys
at Kunlun Taxue Palace, but Gouchen glared at him until he took it and swiped at the strings. They
broke under his aggrieved plucking, and Gouchen’s glare grew harder.

“Do you know what that string is made of?”

“Why, are you going to make me pay for it?” Mo Ran retorted.

“Wushan Goddess’s white hair,” Gouchen muttered. “It’s the spiritual essence of the earth
element, impervious to sword and fire alike. But not to you.”

“Sir! I broke it and can’t afford to buy it!” Mo Ran called in alarm, looking for Chu Wanning.

“Earth is naturally weak to wood,” muttered Gouchen, rubbing the broken end of the string
between his fingers. “Are you suited to a wood elemental weapon? That shouldn’t be.” Gouchen
now glared at Chu Wanning.

“What shouldn’t be?” Chu Wanning asked boredly.

Rather than answer, Gouchen called forth a ceramic ocarina, blowing into it to generate a blood-red
summoning array above them. “Ji Baihua,” he called.

Mo Ran’s head snapped upwards, and his fellow disciples crowded around. The air around
Gouchen’s fingertips swirled with power, spinning the array until it spit out a fox spirit with fluffy,
luxurious tails in a splendid shower of glittering silver. It circled overhead before floating leisurely
down to land in front of Mo Ran. Up close, it could be seen that the pretty fox spirit was male, a
dot of red between slightly lifted peach blossom eyes. Draped in ornate, finely embroidered
garments, he held a golden brocade box in his hands with an air of being somewhat angry but
unreservedly polite.

“Exalted God,” said the fox spirit, and smiled.

“You already know what I called you for?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What do you think?”

Ji Baihua smiled. “Not bad. Worth a try.”

Mo Ran couldn’t resist. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Impatient already?” the fox spirit said with a smile. “You know, I felt your qi before I appeared
and thought for sure you’d be a white-haired old man instead of a handsome young thing.”

“Ji Baihua,” Gouchen said. “Serious matters first.”

“I was just having a bit of fun.” Ji Baihua squinted, fluffy tails swishing. Evoking qi, he floated the
brocade box in his hands over to Mo Ran. “Here, take it.”
Mo Ran examined the brocade box, turning it around in his hands. It was resplendently golden and
shrouded in light, but gave no hints as to what manner of holy weapon was inside. It had no seam
or crack, and its only decoration was a pair of koi fish on its top, holding each other’s tails in their
mouths to form the yin-yang symbol. “How does it open?”

“It’s a secret,” said the fox spirit.

“Are you trying to tell us to leave?” asked Xue Meng.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ji Baihua replied, smiling. “I’ll just borrow him for a minute.” He
waved a hand and they were suddenly alone in a small secret chamber. “Don’t worry, I just
teleported us.”

Mo Ran smiled. “It’s fine. What is it, though, to merit the secret box?”

“I really can’t say,” Ji Baihua said. “Holy weapons have their own temperaments and this one is
secretive. If you offend it, it won’t recognize you as its master even if you do manage to open the
box.”

Mo Ran could only force a smile. “Seriously? Okay, okay, so how do I open the box?”

Ji Baihua quite approved of Mo Ran not pushing boundaries and clapped his hands with a laugh.
“Since you’re so blunt, I’ll just tell you. The box is called Ever-Yearning and can only be opened
when two conditions are met.”

“Which are?”

“As we fox spirits believe in fated love, the only person who can open the box is one who is
extremely important to you, whom you love dearly, and who is wholly devoted to you in return.”

Mo Ran smiled. “I see. Strange, but not too hard.” Shi Mei would definitely be able to open the
box, he thought.

The corners of Ji Baihua’s lips curved faintly. “Oh? The heart of another has been a mystery since
time immemorial. Many have lost sight of their own hearts and not known their own most beloved.
In thousands of years, very few have successfully opened the box.”

“Can’t you just try someone else if the first person can’t open it?”

“The second condition,” the fox said, “is that only one other person may touch Ever-Yearning. If
you choose the wrong person, the box remains forever closed and no one will ever be able to
acquire the item within.”

he clearly implies both that many people have tried and failed to open the box, then explicitly
says that if one person fails the box will never open for anyone else ever, make up your damn
mind

Mo Ran laughed. “No wonder you didn’t want anyone else here; it would be awkward if the others
knew I would be offering the box to my precious beloved.” He paused. “So it’s basically a one-use
lock and the wrong key will disable it for good.”

“Of course you only get one chance to open it. What did you expect?” Ji Baihua glared. “You
mortals are so preoccupied with self-indulgence in your mere few decades of life. Love is not
unlike this Ever-Yearning; you cannot so easily take back a wrong choice.”
“Don’t worry, O Great Immortal Fox. Others might choose wrong, but I’ve got this in the bag.” Mo
Ran bowed to him with a smile. “I won’t squander this yearning.”

I desperately want him to give it to Shi Mei and be Wrong but I suspect Chu Wanning will
touch it By Accident and open it oh look at that what a Shock

“Don’t be so sure about that, young man,” the fox said in a soft, graceful voice. “As I see it, you
don’t actually seem to know your fated person at all.”

Mo Ran’s smile froze on his face. “What do you mean?”

“To yearn unwittingly breaks the willow branch,” said the handsome immortal, self-proclaimed
devotee of fated love.

Not being an educated man, Mo Ran couldn’t follow the sour-tasting scholarly bullshit, but he was
fairly sure the fox was trying to give him a hint. He had no idea what it might be, and was about to
ask the fox for clarification when it smiled faintly and sent him back. The form of the fox froze and
broke into pieces after Mo Ran faded from sight, leaving only a single black chess piece on the
ground. Had Mo Ran seen, events at the bottom of the lake might have gone very differently.

this, on the other hand, is the least subtle foreshadowing that ever did foreshadow

Mo Ran came to inside the holy weapon arsenal, Ever-Yearning still in his hands. Gouchen the
Exalted smiled broadly at his return. “That little fox is really too much. Do you know how to open
it now?”

The moment of truth was upon him. Mo Ran smiled. “Yeah, it’s easy.” He casually walked up to
Shi Mei. “I bet you couldn’t figure this lock out no matter how hard you try, but give it a shot.” He
very casually offered the brilliantly glittering box to Shi Mei. Its golden glow lit up his gentle,
elegant face. Although Mo Ran tried to act nonchalant, his stomach was in knots and his palms
were sweating; he was gambling on his only chance to get a holy weapon, but he knew he was
making a sure bet. Having died once, he surely must know whom he loved – he wasn’t an idiot.

1. clumsy.

Shi Mei hesitated briefly before accepting the box, and Mo Ran’s heart lodged itself in his throat as
nothing happened. Shi Mei examined it carefully, tracing the yin-yang koi fish. “There’s no seam
at all. I can’t find a keyhole, either.”

Mo Ran thought he might vomit, until it occurred to him that the lack of reaction might be due to
Shi Mei’s gloves – perhaps the box had to be touched with bare hands. He was about to ask Shi
Mei to remove them when Chu Wanning abruptly snatched the box. “Sir!” Mo Ran screeched
miserably, sure he had lost his one chance.

Chu Wanning was so startled that he nearly jumped and dropped the box, but his iron will had
suppressed his reflexes so thoroughly that he didn’t even twitch. Xue Meng reacted for him. “What
are you wailing about?” he snapped. “It’s just a box! Why are you yelling like someone stole your
wife?”

“I – I –“ Mo Ran stammered, light-headed with anger and unable to tell them why. He buried his
face in his hands helplessly. “Oh my god.” Of course Chu Wanning isn’t wearing gloves, he
thought, when it’s full of ice and snow and he’s sensitive to the cold and – Mo Ran abruptly
realized that their demon-repelling crabapple flowers were linked to Chu Wanning’s qi through his
palms. Their teacher hadn’t had gloves to begin with, all so he could protect them, and Mo Ran
suddenly felt guilty that none of them had noticed their cold-sensitive teacher suffering and
freezing through the entire journey.

ah yes once again we are beaten over the head with Chu Wanning The Noble And Tragic
Martyr Who Suffers In Silence Because Real Men Don’t Express Their Emotional Needs

Between his pricking conscience and the holy weapon slipping from his grasp, Mo Ran wanted to
cry. No tears fell, only crowded against his heart. Chu Wanning’s fingers brushed against the yin-
yang fish as the pressure mounted, and they came to life. The carved fish swam nimbly around the
box, coming together again to rise above the surface and transform into a pair of handles with two
crisp clicks.

Chu Wanning turned the handles, and Ever-Yearning opened to reveal the radiant golden object
inside. Mo Ran was stunned, and the fox’s words rang in his ears – only his most precious
beloved should have been able to open the box, being loved by him and loving him in return, but
he didn’t see how it could have been opened by his teacher.

Open box or no, Mo Ran was sure it was a mistake – the box must have been broken, he reasoned,
and he was so caught up in his internal outrage that he almost missed Chu Wanning reaching inside
the box to remove the holy weapon. All of them froze simultaneously in shock as a glistening
willow vine dangled from Chu Wanning’s fingers, until Mo Ran finally managed to choke out the
weapon’s name. “Heavenly Questions?”

------

The weapon inside Ever-Yearning was Heavenly Questions, or at least a golden willow vine
identical in every aspect. To yearn unwittingly breaks the willow branch, Mo Ran remembered
numbly. Chu Wanning’s calm veneer finally cracked slightly as he handed the vine to Mo Ran and
then called forth his own weapon. The two were mirror images with no discernable difference. No
one could have anticipated the turn of events, and Mo Ran was stunned and confused.

Everyone’s gaze turned collectively toward Gouchen the Exalted, who was no less surprised. “Two
cultivators alive simultaneously with the spiritual essence of wood?”

“What does that mean?” Xue Meng asked.

“There are five elements in the world, as you all know,” Gouchen explained. “In cultivating a
spiritual core, every person is aligned with one or two of the elements. In each generation, the
person with the most of any given element is its spiritual essence of that generation, and only one
person can have the highest level of an element at a time. The spiritual essence of wood is the
person to whom I gifted the first wood elemental weapon many years ago.” His gaze landed on
Chu Wanning. “When forging the five top-tier holy weapons, I originally planned to make only
one of each element. Everything went as intended for the other four, but the wood elemental holy
weapon broke into two pieces inside the forge. I recognized it as the will of the heavens, and so
made the two halves of the willow vine separately into two weapons. But even so, I was certain
that these two weapons would never find owners at the same time, so I entrusted one to Ji Baihua
and his brocade box, as a precaution against any unscrupulous scheming.”

isn’t that convenient

Gouchen shook his head, but he was interrupted by lustrous red seeping into the golden radiance of
the willow vine in Mo Ran’s hand and changing it into the scarlet of a raging inferno. Without
thinking, Mo Ran blurted out, “What the hell!”
Chu Wanning was too late to shush him, as both he and Gouchen looked at Mo Ran with pity; Mo
Ran abruptly remembered that holy weapons changed colors when recognizing their owners and
requesting a name. The phrase What The Hell inscribed itself in exquisite and powerful calligraphy
on the willow vine’s silver handle.

Mo Ran’s fellow disciples hadn’t known how holy weapons were named, but they were both
capable of drawing the correct conclusions; Xue Meng doubled over with laughter, clutching at his
stomach. “Only you would manage to name your holy weapon What The Hell,” he choked out.

Their amusement didn’t stop Xue Meng from choosing a long sword, while Shi Mei picked a short
flute. Neither weapon changed colors in their hands, apparently not yet willing to submit to their
new masters, but it was of no cause for concern. The group returned to Gouchen’s estate for the
evening, accepting his generous offer to stay the night before leaving.

Gouchen the Exalted spared no effort as host, loading his banquet tables with meat and wine, and
arranging for energetic drumbeats to accompany their merrymaking. Guests and host alike
emerged tipsy and were guided to rooms to rest. The guest rooms were next to the arsenal

Everybody came out a bit tipsy. Afterwards, Gouchen had the chamberlain bring the guests to their
rooms to rest. The guest rooms were adjacent to the holy weapon arsenal. Looking at the massive
tree, Mo Ran thought of the weapon he had just received, and couldn’t help calling it forth to look
it over. To yearn unwittingly breaks the willow branch rang in his mind, and he couldn’t help but
wonder what the fox had known and what it had meant

The alcohol in Mo Ran’s blood muddled his brain, but if the box wasn’t broken he didn’t see how
Chu Wanning could have opened it. He glanced toward his teacher, only to unexpectedly meet his
gaze. Mo Ran’s heart skipped a beat, a faint sweet-sour feeling surging through him. He reflexively
gave his teacher a toothy grin, and the feeling instantly faded into regret. The warm feeling of
peace when he looked at his teacher was inexplicable, given how much he disliked him, and Chu
Wanning was only staring at him impassively.

are we supposed to have sympathy for his obtuseness? I’d be more sympathetic if he thought
that the box was broken or that the fox was lying, but he has accepted that the box is not
broken, thinks the fox is telling the truth, and still doesn’t understand. It’s dumb AF.

Seeing that Mo Ran had called out What The Hell, Chu Wanning summoned Heavenly Questions
and approached his disciple. The other willow vine appeared to have a temper; it crackled with
sparks of scarlet light, some of it splashing onto Xue Meng. Heavenly Questions, in contrast, had
grown used to Chu Wanning and was quite well-behaved despite also being proudly combative. It
brightened gradually into a dazzling brilliance as it saw Chu Wanning did not disapprove, as if
determined to show What The Hell the steady composure expected of an exceptional weapon.

Two holy weapons originally from a single branch, one fresh and inexperienced and the other
seasoned through hundreds of battles. What The Hell flared with the red light of impatient and
excitable youth, while Heavenly Questions coursed with the golden radiance of a proud and
haughty master standing atop a tall peak. Chu Wanning glanced between the vines.

“Mo Ran,” he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take up,” he said, and then hesitated. It was embarrassing to say What The Hell out loud. “Take
up your willow vine,” he said finally. “We’ll spar.”
“Please don’t joke like that,” Mo Ran said, his thoughts whirling. “Have mercy, sir.”

“You can have the first three moves,” Chu Wanning said.

“Sir,” Mo Ran protested.

“Ten.” With no further warning, Chu Wanning flicked his wrist over his disciple’s protests and a
flash of dazzling gold cleaved the air between them. Mo Ran’s fear of Heavenly Questions was
deeply embedded into his soul, and he raised What The Hell in a panicked block. The willow vines
split the skies, entwining like a pair of dragons locked in battle, giving off sparks of gold and
scarlet.

Mo Ran hadn’t studied the willow vine, specifically, but he’d watched his teacher’s combat style
for so long that he was able to use his exceptional innate talent to turn his observations into
defense. The two exchanged several dozen blows in the freezing lake water, Mo Ran’s outstanding
performance exceeding Chu Wanning’s expectations despite the master holding back, light
resplendent in their wake.

this is essentially a circlejerk

The willow vines ripped through the once-calm water, stirring it to life and tearing it apart as gold
and scarlet intertwined. Chu Wanning’s gaze was one of praise, but Mo Ran, gasping for breath
and utterly exhausted, didn’t notice. Without preamble, Chu Wanning dismissed his weapon, and
the formerly fierce and unrelenting willow vine became immediately pliant in his palm. Mo Ran
panted, What The Hell crackling with red light in his grip. He collapsed on the snowy ground,
expression aggrieved.

ah, yes, the snowy ground outside the lake, except that you are underwater on the fine white
sand

“Stop bullying me,” he whined.

“I let you have ten moves.”

“How could ten moves possibly be enough? I need more like a hundred! My arms are gonna fall
off, Shi Mei, Shi Mei, rub me down.” Xue Meng cackled mockingly and Shi Mei tried to calm
them both down. Chu Wanning glanced at them quietly, the corners of his mouth seeming to curve
in a faint yet warm smile under the green waters of the freezing lake. The expression was gone as
soon as it had come, and he turned with a hand casually held behind his back as he gazed at the
enormous tree.

oh now we know where we are, do we

Mo Ran’s guest room that night had a soft, clean floor of white sand. The walls were painted
aquamarine, enchanted to gleam softly in the light piercing the deep water. The pearl curtain in
front of the half-open window drifted gently in the evening breeze, and a night-glow pearl lamp on
the table illuminated the room. The seashell shaped bed in the center of the room was lined with
fine, soft satin, and Mo Ran sank into it. He summoned What The Hell again, intending to examine
it, but fell asleep within moments. The willow vine pulsed gently on his chest with dim red light, as
if following him into slumber.

a breeze underwater, you say, apparently I will not let this go

When he awoke, Mo Ran didn’t know where he was or how long he had slept. He felt an icy chill,
followed by a burst of searing pain from his wrist. He clutched at his head and slowly sat up,
seeing a gash on his wrist. It had already scabbed over. Mo Ran glanced around, seeing a dark and
unfamiliar stone room with a ventilation shaft in the ceiling. The cold light of the lake shone
through into the narrow space, barely a few feet wide. Its ash-green stone walls were damp and
glistened faintly with slime in the feeble light.

ah, I see he is underwater, but the walls are only damp, ok then

------

Three of walls around Mo Ran were unadorned stone, and the fourth consisted of red-lit magical
bars. Its only furniture was a crude bed, also made of stone and covered in straw. Mo Ran found
his hands and feet to be shackled, chains clanking with every movement, and his spiritual powers
were suppressed. His mind raced with anxious thoughts, but he could do nothing except lie on the
bed.

A sudden creaking sound heralded the arrival of two merfolk, and Mo Ran growled angrily at
them. “What’s going on? What do you think you’re doing? Where are my friends? Where’s
Gouchen?” The merfolk ignored him entirely until they had placed their burden on the bed. It was
human-shaped, wrapped in red fox fur. “I’m talking to you, you little eels,” Mo Ran said.

“Quit yapping,” one of the merfolk said contemptuously. “You’re a spiritual essence. It won’t be a
bad deal for you.”

“Pretty sweet deal,” the other one sneered.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Mo Ran snapped. “And what’s that?”

“What’s that?” one of the merfolk mimicked. “Your beloved, of course.”

Mo Ran froze in shock. “Shi Mei?”

“The spring of youth is fleeting,” said the other merperson. “Since the two of you are fated, we’ll
give you this single night, and then you’ll find out why the Exalted God went to so much trouble.”

With his hands and feet restrained, Mo Ran couldn’t move. The merfolk exited the room, leaving
silence behind, and despite struggling until his wrists and ankles were bloody he couldn’t break
free. He turned to look at the person on the bed, wrapped in fox fur with only a long strand of dark
hair visible.

he’s going to be shocked to see Chu Wanning, which is Incredibly Annoying

Panic and arousal hammered erratically in his chest, and it occurred to Mo Ran that their
imprisonment would allow him to realize his covetous desire for Shi Mei. His thoughts ground to a
halt, and he couldn’t quite countenance profaning his beloved. His breaths were heavy and stifled
as he stared at the ceiling with the sensation of weight on his chest. Instead of excitement, all he
felt at the prospective realization of his desires was unease.

Mo Ran knew that whatever Gouchen was planning wouldn’t be good – and regardless of what
happened to Mo Ran himself, he couldn’t forgive himself if Shi Mei suffered because of it. Shi Mei
hadn’t consented to any of this, and no matter how terrible of a person Mo Ran was, he needed to
protect the person he loved. He resolved not to take advantage of Shi Mei when his beloved
awoke.

…….how noble of you, doing literally the bare minimum of not committing sexual assault.
Tho tbh this may sadly represent character growth

Mo Ran didn’t know how long it was before the person on the bed beside him shifted, and Mo
Ran’s head whipped around. “Shi-“ he said, but he choked on the second half of the name.
“Wanning?” came out in a strangled croak. The chivalrous conviction he’d felt a moment ago
drained away, his mental fortitude dissipating rapidly. His bold statements to himself about not
taking advantage of others felt like a slap to the face as the blood drained out of his cheeks.

It had finally become blindingly obvious that every inhabitant of Jincheng Lake, up to and
including Gouchen, was utterly misguided to think that he was in love with Chu Wanning. The fox
spirit and the merfolk were laughably blind – unless, he thought, they’d figured out he’d fucked his
teacher in the past and was fixated on doing it again. But, he reasoned in a fit of self-righteous
indignation, physical attraction wasn’t the same as emotional intimacy.

While Mo Ran fumed, Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes slowly opened. He could almost hear the
gears in his head grinding to a broken halt. The wreckage, composed of foul-smelling black ashes,
was generating a twisted kind of scalding heat. It seemed as though a fire-spitting dragon swept
abruptly through the stillness of the dark night, pouring scorching lava and raging flames out of a
silent abyss. His reason and self-control burned to ash in the roaring blaze.

The Constellation Saint’s usually piercing eyes were hazy with sleep, languid and dazed as if an
external force were suppressing his consciousness. He sat up slowly, the fox fur slipping off his
shoulder to reveal a naked expanse of supple skin. He wore nothing underneath but bruises, love
bites in hues of red and blue, and Mo Ran burned with the entirely new fires of jealousy. No one
was allowed to touch Chu Wanning but him, Chu Wanning belonged to him – Mo Ran was so
overcome with hatred that he didn’t stop to consider that Chu Wanning belonged to nobody but
himself.

and yet you still rant and rave that Oh I’m Not Interested In My Teacher, it’s tiresome

All he could see was his teacher’s familiar firm, well-proportioned body covered with unfamiliar
marks. “Sir,” he said, voice low and hoarse, but Chu Wanning didn’t appear to hear him. Like a
puppet on a string, he leaned over Mo Ran to caress his face. He drew closer, until their lips
touched.

Brilliant, frantic colors exploded before Mo Ran’s eyes – rarely had Chu Wanning ever initiated a
kiss. The agony of jealousy still ate at his heart, but the heat flaring up where his teacher had
touched him was stronger. His chest heaved as they parted, and he opened his eyes to see his
teacher’s face flushed with desire. Mo Ran wanted to reach up and stroke his face in return, but he
was bound in chains and unable to move.

Chu Wanning glanced at his bonds and moved to straddle him. Mo Ran swallowed hard, but
stickiness sliding down his teacher’s thighs caught his attention and he was again enveloped in
rage that someone else had touched Chu Wanning. “Who the fuck did this to you?” he roared. “I’ll
kill him!”

It didn’t matter whether it was Gouchen he Exalted or the Heavenly Emperor himself, a god, a
demon, a ghost, or the fucking Buddha who had defiled Chu Wanning – the Constellation Saint
belonged to the Evil Overlord. Even trapped in his teenage body, he was still the Emperor of the
Mortal Realm and Chu Wanning was his.

“Mo Ran!” he heard distantly, but he was engulfed in flames of rage. He would kill them all –
where was What The Hell? Mo Ran struggled to summon his weapon, the insufferable humiliation
of having his property tainted by another feeding his anger in a vicious cycle. He’d cut out eyes
and fed them to their owners, in his previous life, for the crime of looking covetously upon the
Constellation of the Night Sky. Afterwards, he had always held Chu Wanning down and fucked
him into exhaustion.

“Mo Weiyu!” came the voice again. It was so familiar, but he couldn’t place it through the fires
cascading across his mind. It was as though he’d heard it over and over, as if it had kept him
company for years. “Mo Weiyu, wake up! Have you lost your mind? What do you think you’re
doing?”

Mo Ran’s eyes flew open. Pristine white robes and a pair of sharp eyes registered, and then it
snapped together to show him his teacher standing outside with an expression of worry. “Sir?” Mo
Ran stammered, and the blood drained out of his cheeks. If his teacher was standing outside the
cell, then who was on the bed?

Mo Ran’s head whipped around to see a human corpse with the face of a fox, empty eyes and pallid
skin without a hint of life. It was pressed against him. He nearly retched, realizing he’d kissed a
corpse while in the throes of an illusion. “What’s happening?” he choked out.

as I recall it was straddling you and we never established that it stopped doing that but ok

Chu Wanning held up a cursed talisman between two fingers. As the dead fox demon was no
longer moving, Mo Ran guessed his teacher had used a spell to remove it from the corpse in the
nick of time. A stream of dark red blood bubbled from the talisman as it was touched with qi, the
paper shrieking as it burned to ash. Chu Wanning opened his hand, and the black ash gathered into
a chess piece. “It’s the Zhenlong Chess Formation,” he murmured, and then pinned Mo Ran with a
harsh gaze. “What food does Shi Mei make for you when you’re sick?”

“Uh,” Mo Ran said. His mind had gone utterly blank. “What? Why?”

“Just say it,” Chu Wanning snapped.

“Wontons?” Mo Ran said hesitantly, and saw his teacher’s expression ease slightly.

“Mo Ran, I want you to pay attention. Gouchen is not Gouchen. He’s an imposter, adept at
illusions, and knows the forbidden Zhenlong Chess Formation.” He paused. “It’s why I had to be
sure that you were you.”

“Why would I be tied up if I were an illusion,” Mo Ran felt compelled to point out, indignant.

“Oh, right.” Chu Wanning regarded him. “Let me get you out of there.”

“Sir, sir,” Mo Ran said. “What about Shi Mei and Xue Meng?”

“They’ve also been locked up, after succumbing to the drugged wine.” At Mo Ran’s expression,
Chu Wanning added, “No need to worry. They’re fine and waiting outside, since I didn’t know
what to expect in here. You’ll see each other in a minute.”

No further explanation of the Zhenlong Chess Formation or forbidden techniques appeared to be

forthcoming, but Mo Ran didn’t need it. He knew that it was one of three powerful, notorious
forbidden techniques of the cultivation world, one which used others as chess pieces to be
maneuvered at will. The cultivator using it wouldn’t appear on the battlefield at all, instead
manipulating his chess pieces from the shadows. The technique could be used to control everything
from living people to the ghosts of the dead, beasts on land or birds in the skies. The living puppet
would be loyal unto death, and the dead would obey until torn limb from limb.
The one limitation of the Zhenlong Chess Technique was the spiritual strength of the cultivator
using it – those newly dead were easiest to control, followed by the ancient dead. Live beasts were
harder, and control of the living was the most difficult. Very few people had the capability to carry
out the highest tier of the technique, but the Evil Overlord had been one of them.

The year the Emperor had faced off against his former teacher in a death match, he’d laid down a
scroll a hundred feet long. It had been a chessboard of splashed ink holding an army of hundreds of
thousands of chess pieces. Winged beasts had blotted out the golden sun and dragons had burst out
of the raging seas. Armies of countless living people had been his to control, leavened by endless
beasts of land and sky. It would have been a rare sight even in hell.

The fox corpse, Mo Ran could see now, had been controlled by the forbidden technique with an
overlay of illusion. It was, Chu Wanning explained as he easily freed Mo Ran, a piece of fur from
the Qingqiu fox clan’s earliest ancestor – divided into forty-nine pieces of varying size, it had been
made into magical artifacts. One of its properties was that if one dripped a person’s blood on the
fur before wrapping the fur around an object, that object would take on the appearance of the
person’s heart’s desire. Only the person whose blood touched the fur would see the illusion;
anyone else would see the truth.

Once the explanation had wound down, Mo Ran still had one question. “Sir,” he asked. “How did
you know Gouchen was a fake?”

------

“The real Gouchen wouldn’t use dead things,” Chu Wanning replied. “And his powers, while
strong, are nowhere near those of a god.”

Mo Ran didn’t feel he had received enough of an explanation. “So when you saw the dead fox, you
knew?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then when?”

“Do you remember what Gouchen asked me when he first showed up?”

Mo Ran thought about it. “When he asked about your weapons?”

“Correct,” Chu Wanning said. “I’ve never hidden their auras. He should have immediately known
that I had two holy weapons from Jincheng Lake. But since the matter at hand was acquiring
weapons, it seemed prudent to keep a close eye on him and foil his plans at the first opportunity
instead.”

“But,” Mo Ran said. “If he’s not Gouchen, how did he create the holy weapons?”

“That’s just a rumor,” Chu Wanning told him. “No one knows why all these weapons are in the
lake, and that Gouchen created them is only one possible explanation. Second, this person also
allowed you all to choose whatever you wanted, and may not have had the right to do that. And
third, Xue Meng and Shi Mei both got fake weapons.”

“Fake?” Mo Ran said, alarmed.

“Uh huh.”

“Wait,” Mo Ran said. “But What The Hell is-“

“What The Hell is real,” Chu Wanning said. “But his goal wasn’t just giving you a weapon.”

“First he locks us up and then he sets up something sickening like this.” Mo Ran glared at the fox
corpse, disgusted. “What does he want?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“You were half right. He’s not trying to trap us, just you.”

“What does he want with me? I’m just some dumbass.”

Chu Wanning glared at him. “I’ve never met a dumbass who could cultivate a spiritual core inside
a year.”

Mo Ran opened his mouth to argue, but realizing that his teacher had just praised him slammed his
thought process to a halt and sped up his heart. He slowly blinked, mouth still agape, and felt
himself blush. His teacher was paying no attention to him at all, muttering under his breath.

“Heavenly Questions and What The Hell are linked to that willow tree; I’ve read about it in ancient
texts. Gouchen the Exalted brought three willow branches from the imperial court with him when
he descended to the mortal realm, but the texts were incomplete. I don’t know what he did with
them.” He paused. “If the rumors are true, Heavenly Questions, What The Hell, and the tree in the
courtyard could be those three branches.”

“I don’t see what I have to do with it,” Mo Ran said.

“How could it not?” Chu Wanning said. “You awakened What The Hell.”

Mo Ran sighed. “See why I said what the hell.”

“Whatever he wants probably has something to do with the willow tree, but that’s all I can infer
from the information we have.”

Mo Ran felt that the entire story was pure speculation, but that Chu Wanning was clever enough to
guess the truth. He followed his teacher along the gloomy underwater dungeon paths until they
reached an exit, taking advantage of the element of surprise, and escaped.

The tunnel took them to the courtyard with the giant willow. Mo Ran emerged, blinking, and
stiffened in surprise. Four coffins had been placed in front of the tree, three of them already holding
Chu Wanning, Xue Meng, and Shi Mei. “The fuck is this?” Mo Ran yelled.

“Corpse-sacrificing coffins,” Chu Wanning said. “See the vines wrapped around the edges? Linked
to the willow? They’re used to transfer the victim’s cultivation into the willow, like extracting
blood.” He paused at Mo Ran’s expression. “Don’t worry, they’re fine. I pretended to be
unconscious from the drugs as well and dispatched the merfolk guarding the coffins. These are
their bodies.”

Mo Ran couldn’t help but wonder exactly how much cultivation the merfolk had; Chu Wanning
would have had to have dispatched all of them with a single blow, without making a sound, for
them not to sound an alarm. It had been so long since he’d last fought on an equal footing with Chu
Wanning that he’d forgotten how impressive his teacher was. Chu Wanning was a figure of storm
and hail, shaking sky and earth, eyes shining bright like Mercury.
“What?” Chu Wanning asked.

Mo Ran jolted back to awareness. “Nothing. I, uh, I was just wondering how you got the guards to
look like this.”

Chu Wanning smiled coldly. “Simple illusion. It’s not too difficult for the false Gouchen, so it’s
definitely within my capabilities. Leave them here to cover our escape, and we’ll give him a taste
of his own medicine.”

It was too dangerous to take more than a short rest before continuing to the meeting place Chu
Wanning had arranged with his other two disciples, but it was empty when they arrived. Mo Ran’s
face paled. “Where’s Shi Mei?”

Chu Wanning lifted his ring finger, and it glowed golden. The crabapple flowers he’d tucked in his
disciples’ sashes at the base of Dawning Peak could be used to track them. After a moment, he
cursed under his breath and the light went out. “Something unexpected must have happened here. I
suspect they left the area to avoid merfolk patrols, and may have gone toward the market.”

Using their incredible skill, the two cultivators easily avoided the merfolk patrols. They flipped
over the tall courtyard walls and rushed toward the market in the center of the city. While most
places underwater would have no discernable night and day, Jincheng Lake was so clear that the
rising of the sun and setting of the moon was clearly visible. When they reached the market, the
sun was rising in the east.

The morning market was beginning to rouse in the distance, the bustling city center filling with
people. Mo Ran released the breath he’d been subconsciously holding; if the market looked
normal, then his friends were safe. Chu Wanning looked less relieved, and pulled Mo Ran toward
himself.

“Sir?” Mo Ran said.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Stay close.” Chu Wanning’s voice held an odd note. “I’ve lost the other two. I’m afraid that if-“

Mo Ran snuck a look at his teacher’s pale face, and realized he was worried for him. It was such a
surprise that it took him a moment to try to comfort Chu Wanning. “I won’t get lost,” he said.
“Come on, let’s go look.” He took Chu Wanning’s hand and started walking toward the market,
feeling his teacher’s fingertips seem to tremble for a split second. Preoccupied with Shi Mei, he
immediately decided he was mistaken.

I think we are supposed to see this minor breakdown of Chu Wanning’s self-control as an
indicator of How Strong his feelings are for Mo Ran but it just reads as out of character,
given the much worse shit he has endured without so much as twitching. Some of which also
involved danger to Mo Ran. Mo Ran’s continuous refusal to see what is right in front of his
face, on the other hand, is in character but steadily more irritating every time it happens

The lake’s denizens peddled their wares as they walked past without minding them at all. Mo Ran
heard them hawking fish blood buns and Shuairan Snakeskin leather and squid ink brow filler
made with ink spat out by the seller. He pulled Chu Wanning along with a silly smile on his face
until he realized what was wrong with the scene in front of him. Looking toward another corner, he
saw exactly what he expected to see – a headless ghost selling combs and makeup brushed the hair
of its own bloody head on its lap with long, scarlet-painted fingernails. “High quality bone combs,”
Mo Ran heard it say.

The words and actions of every person on the street was identical to what it had been the day
before and Mo Ran recoiled. He crashed right into Chu Wanning’s chest. “Sir,” he asked hoarsely.
“What is this? An illusion?”

Chu Wanning was looking around as if his own suspicions had been confirmed, and he gripped Mo
Ran tightly. He shook his head. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly. “Did you consider the many different
beasts and creatures of Jincheng Lake? Some of them must have seen the real Gouchen. They
should have recognized the fake.”

The color drained from Mo Ran’s face. “You’re right,” he said, afraid again.

“So,” Chu Wanning said. “If you were pretending to be Gouchen the Exalted, hiding out in
Jincheng Lake, how would you make everyone else say what you want them to say, do what you
want them to do, listen to your every word, and put on an act for you?”

Mo Ran understood immediately – the imposter had used Zhenlong Chess Formation, a technique
he understood better than anyone. He nearly said it aloud, but stopped himself before he could let
Chu Wanning hear a teenager’s mind go straight to a forbidden technique. “That would be very
difficult,” he said instead.

“No,” Chu Wanning said. “it’s very easy.” He paused. “You just need them all to be dead.”

------

The same bug as before screamed in a shrill voice before Mo Ran could respond, trudging to the
apothecary with its heavy pile of rocks and screaming for help in the same words. Instead of the
turquoise dragon, however, a white-haired merman emerged. His tail glittered a resplendent gold, a
contrast to the simple clips holding back his hair. His wrinkled face was well-proportioned, and his
glowing golden eyes were tranquil. Mo Ran thought he must have been handsome in his prime, and
he glanced toward Mo Ran before bending over the bug.

again we dip into the well of pretty=good

The merman removed the rocks one by one. As the last rock slipped free, the illusion shattered.
The bug exploded, blood diffusing into the water, mirrored almost instantly by the rest of the
crowd in the market. Their bodies dropped bonelessly and split apart, saturating the lake water with
a miasma of blood. It thickened until the two cultivators were surrounded as if with crimson fog,
unable to see their hands in front of their faces.

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning said.

“I’m here, sir, don’t worry,” Mo Ran replied. He’d figured out by now that Chu Wanning was less
a man of few words and more a man who was terrible with them.

“Be careful,” his teacher said, and Mo Ran could hear the concern in his voice. It was a rare
moment of warmth from Chu Wanning. He gripped his teacher’s hand more tightly. Standing back
to back, Mo Ran felt Chu Wanning’s heartbeat and breathing and knew the other felt the same.
Heavenly Questions appeared in Chu Wanning’s hand, and Mo Ran summoned What The Hell a
breath later.

“Sir, look!” Mo Ran called. Chu Wanning followed his disciple’s gaze toward the apothecary,
where several dozen bright white spots of light had appeared on the ground. The pair approached to
see that the bug’s rocks were the source of the lights. They had been arranged into three neat rows,
each giving off a gentle radiance. A figure slowly materialized before the rocks, becoming the
white-haired merman.

“Who are you?” Mo Ran asked, but the merman only glanced between them before wordlessly
lifting a hand to point at the rocks on the ground. “You want us to pick up the rocks?” Mo Ran
asked, garnering a nod and a single raised finger from the merman. “Only one?” Mo Ran guessed,
but the merman shook his head before pointing at him with his raised finger and then at Chu
Wanning. “We each pick one,” Mo Ran concluded. The merman nodded vigorously and speared
them with a fixed stare. “Should we do as he says, sir?”

“It’s not like we have any other options,” Chu Wanning said, and both of them chose a stone. As
soon as their fingertips touched the rocks, a multitude of distorted colors flashed and the world
spun around them. When it settled, the red fog had vanished and they stood in the center of the
holy weapon arsenal.

“Sir!” came Xue Meng’s voice, followed by Shi Mei calling out.

“Sir! Ran!”

Both of Chu Wanning’s other disciples rushed toward them, and Mo Ran felt his teacher’s grip on
his hand tighten. The teleportation spell in the rock had been unexpected, and he glanced sideways
to see Chu Wanning looking green, hand pressed to his forehead as he clung to his student.

Chu Wanning treasured the rare opportunity to express closeness to his student, rather than
watching their friendly relationship from afar, but Mo Ran’s exclamation of “Shi Mei!” reminded
him that the warmth he was currently savoring meant less to his student than a worn-out pair of
shoes – if he even noticed it at all. Mo Ran slipped his hand out of Chu Wanning’s grasp the
moment he saw Shi Mei, and Chu Wanning barely managed not to snatch it back. He had no
excuse for it, though, no courage to admit to being in love. His pride was all he had.

Watching Mo Ran smile so easily at Shi Me, hug him casually and gently stroke his hair, Chu
Wanning’s hand fell back to his side. His impassive expression betrayed no hint of the
embarrassment or awkwardness he felt. He wondered if the coldness in his chest was a side effect
of his age interacting with the teleportation array, but the warmth in his fingertips still lingered. He
straightened slowly, holding onto the sensation, and arranged himself to be tidy and proper.

“Are you feeling ok, sir?” Xue Meng asked. “Your face is so pale.”

“I’m fine,” Chu Wanning answered. “Did the merman teleport you here as well?”

Any answer Xue Meng might have given was interrupted by a burst of bubbling sounds from the
smelting pool, and Chu Wanning turned to see half a bloody face attached to a disfigured person
emerge with a splash. The figure was raw and burnt all over, but clearly no mortal – or at least not
alive in the traditional sense – for clearly it still drew breath. Chains shackled his four limbs,
holding him inside the pool to suffer. He opened his eyes and bowed repeatedly to the group of
cultivators, clearly begging them to approach.

The burned figure didn’t seem to be able to speak, but waved arms with bloody flesh barely
clinging to bone. A small wave surged forth from the molten pool to form several rows of ancient
script in the air. None of the disciples could read it.

“It’s ancient Cangjie script,” Chu Wanning explained. “I haven’t taught you how to read it yet.”
“So what does it say?” Xue Meng asked.

“He’s asking for help,” Chu Wanning said, after spending a few minutes carefully studying the
writing. The writing of the heavenly realm was nearly a lost art in the human world, and even an
accomplished master such as Chu Wanning couldn’t read it fluently. He could at least understand
the gist. “He says he’s the spirit of the willow tree, named Heart-Pluck Willow. Gouchen brought
him here from the seventh heaven of the realm of the gods when he was just a sapling, and then
abandoned him. Heart-Pluck Willow hasn’t seen him since, and doesn’t even know if he’s still
alive. But Heart-Pluck Willow was nourished by the qi here and followed his instructions,
protecting the lake and guarding the arsenal until he cultivated into human form. And then…” Chu
Wanning paused.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Ran asked.

“I don’t recognize these three characters. They might be a name.” Chu Wanning pointed at the
complex, twisting characters. “This person came to the lake. He was powerful and cruel. He
slaughtered everything in the lake, and controlled their bodies with Zhenlong Chess Formation.
The tree was no exception.”

“The false Gouchen!” Mo Ran exclaimed. The willow spirit’s eyes flickered and he nodded twice.
“Hey, I was right!” Mo Ran grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Guess I’m pretty clever after
all.”

Chu Wanning gave him a mild glance and continued reading. “In the years since then, Heart-Pluck
Willow has been unconscious, without even half a day of clarity. Fortunately, the other two
branches once connected with it in body and spirit have both awakened.” Chu Wanning indicated
Heavenly Questions and What The Hell. “Heart-Pluck Willow was able to borrow their strength
and awaken, or it would have lost control and hurt us all.”

The willow spirit’s audience was both incredulous and apprehensive at those words, and the three
disciples simultaneously turned their heads to stare at it.

“Senior Willow,” Mo Ran started.

“Really?” Xue Meng hissed.

“You want me to call him Senior Pluck?” Mo Ran hissed back. “I don’t think you’ll like hearing
this, but, uh, there seem to be some holes in your story.” The willow spirit, while unable to speak,
was still able to understand spoken words and turned to face Mo Ran. “You said you were under
the false Gouchen’s control, but woke up again because of Heavenly Questions and What The
Hell. But the false Gouchen gave me What The Hell to begin with, why didn’t he see that
coming?”

Heart-Pluck Willow shook his head, and the characters in front of Chu Wanning changed.

“Because I am of the Realm of the Gods, he knows little about me,” Chu Wanning read. “He was
unaware that the holy weapons could affect my consciousness. In his pursuit of the three forbidden
techniques, he needs to draw upon my power, but my lifespan is coming to its end, and he has been
frantically looking for a way to extend my life. But I do not wish to continue living. I would rather
die than help this villain, but I have no will of my own.”

Chu Wanning paused.

“That must be why he brought Mo Ran here. Mo Ran is a wood elemental spiritual essence, and
the false Gouchen must be planning to combine his spiritual power with that of What The Hell to
offer it as sacrifice to you.”

Heart-Pluck Willow nodded, but Mo Ran still didn’t quite understand. “But the false Gouchen said
there are two wood elemental spiritual essences so why did he only lock me up?”

Heart-Pluck Willow wrote, “Younger sacrificial offerings have always been better, and even more
care must be taken when making an offering to a tree spirit. The offering must be sated in appetite
and desire, satisfied in every need, and their life must be taken as they are immersed in a euphoric
illusion. Otherwise, the offering would have remaining regrets, and the resentful energy would
accelerate my withering instead.”

Mo Ran felt that was a solid explanation of the fox spirit, an emotional fattening of a pig before the
slaughter. It also explained, he thought, why he’d seen Chu Wanning and not Shi Mei – defiling
his beloved would have led to regrets.

Chu Wanning, seeing Mo Ran’s strange expression, thought he was still uneasy, and was moved to
comfort him. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“N-nothing.” Mo Ran’s face started turning red.

Chu Wanning stared blankly for a second before comprehension dawned on him and he
immediately closed his mouth. It took him a moment to turn away in a fit of embarrassed rage for
not having realized that Mo Ran must have been thinking of his desires – perhaps even
daydreaming about them. He flung back his sleeves in indignant anger. “Shameless,” he muttered,
face frigid.

Mo Ran thought it was lucky that Chu Wanning hadn’t been able to see whose face the dead fox
had worn, or he would have been skinned alive. His musings were interrupted by the ground
beneath their feet suddenly starting to shake.

It was Xue Meng who shouted the loudest. “What’s happening?”

------

Heart-Pluck Willow did not get a chance to respond before his expression twisted and he clutched
his head in pain, mouth open in a soundless scream. His lips twisted around the words save me and
Mo Ran could all but hear the screams the willow spirit couldn’t utter. It struggled in agony as a
black fog surged out from the smelting pool to envelop the body trapped inside, and the chains
holding it down rattled until sparks flew.

Chu Wanning moved rapidly to protect his disciples. “How can I save you?” he snapped. The
willow spirit moved slowly, but the molten metal still swirled into rows of the ancient Cangjie
script. “I am about to lose control and attack you,” Chu Wanning read. “I don’t want to, but it is
out of my control. There are three techniques I will use against you. Sweetest Dream, a nightmare
technique, puts the afflicted to sleep and traps them with their heart’s desire – even those with
strong enough spiritual power to recognize the illusion would choose not to waken. Temptation of
the Heart uses a person’s heart’s desire to induce the afflicted to slaughter one another. The final
technique, Heart Pluck –“ Chu Wanning broke off as the molten metal lost its form.

The willow spirit struggled, blood spraying outward. It dragged a finger through the miasma, eyes
fixed on Chu Wanning.

“Sir!” Xue Meng pulled his teacher back. “It might be a trap!”
The willow spirit held up the lone finger, tears welling up in its eyes.

“You want me to approach?”

Heart-Pluck Willow nodded slowly. Despite Xue Meng’s exhortations, Chu Wanning shook him
off and extended a hand to the willow spirit. Heart-Pluck Willow made as if to bow, deep gratitude
written on his ravaged face. He wrote shakily on Chu Wanning’s palm, each motion soaked in
agony. Draw your lots. Break the nightmare. Do not lose sight of your heart. Once the nightmare
is broken, the trial ends!

The last character was barely complete when the willow spirit crumpled bonelessly into the
smelting pool and disappeared from view. A wave of scarlet rose from the pool, molten metal
surging into the sky as nine dragon-shaped pillars of flame roared up from the ground. Chu
Wanning was forced to retreat, the fire reflecting in his eyes.

you. Are. Under. Water.

Four tokens appeared from the fiery pillars and hung in mid-air. Shi Mei, remembering Heart-
Pluck Willow’s words drew an immediate conclusion. “Those are the tokens for drawing lots.”

Chu Wanning stopped his disciple from touching the tokens. “All of you get behind me.”

“Sir,” Shi Mei started.

“I’m here,” Chu Wanning said. “I’ll protect you. Let me take point.”

Mo Ran’s heart quivered, even though his teacher’s voice had been mild. The Chu Wanning before
him overlapped before his eyes with the heartless teacher from his previous life who had watched
his own disciple die. How, Mo Ran thought, could he stand here and speak those words when he’d
done nothing to help Shi Mei? Mo Ra suddenly had the impression that he’d never understood his
teacher.

Chu Wanning ignored his disciples, pulling one of the tokens out of the air. It was made of light
yellow jade, and Chu Wanning examined it closely. “There’s nothing on it,” he said in response to
Xue Meng asking what was wrong.

under. water.

“What?” Xue Meng said, puzzled. “Let me try.”

Each of them picked a token – Xue Meng and Shi Mei also found yellow jade tokens, blank on
both sides. Mo Ran’s had writing on the back, but he couldn’t read all of it. “Uh,” he said. “It says
blass.”

Xue Meng shuffled over. “It does not. You just read the half you can actually read.”

“Blood hourglass,” Chu Wanning corrected. Mo Ran wasn’t about to doubt him, after watching his
teacher read the ancient script for several minutes without a noticeable error.

“What’s that mean?” he asked.

Chu Wanning shook his head. “No idea.”

The arsenal’s towering roof shuddered and disgorged a massive copper hourglass mottled with
rust. It had a cross mounted on it, the purpose of which Mo Ran couldn’t decipher. Chu Wanning
looked between the token and the hourglass and a flash of enlightenment lit his eyes. “Throw the
token away!” he snapped.

His tone left no room for argument. Mo Ran moved to obey without conscious thought, but the
jade token was stuck fast to his hand. Chu Wanning cursed under his breath and tried to pry it off,
but dozens of thorny vines burst out of the hourglass and headed straight for Mo Ran.

“Move!” Chu Wanning snarled.

“Sir!” Mo Ran gasped.

The Constellation Saint had managed to shove Mo Ran aside, but the thorns pierced him like so
many arrows and sent blood spattering all over. Mo Ran’s teenage body didn’t have the strength to
withstand his teacher’s push, and stumbled backwards to fall on the ground. The sound of tearing
flesh was somehow louder than his fellow disciples’ shrill screams, and Mo Ran couldn’t
countenance that the man who beat him, scolded him, and never looked at him kindly had shielded
him with his own body. How could Chu Wanning have watched his own disciple die, have
repeatedly told Mo Ran that he was deficient by nature and beyond remedy, and yet still allow
himself to be impaled from back to front by sharp, densely packed vines?

The old wound from the ghost mistress’s claws had been ripped open again, and Mo Ran was
forcibly reminded of his teacher protecting him in the coffin. Other memories followed – Chu
Wanning secretly shielding disciples from the rain, and clumsily making wontons after Shi Mei’s
first untimely death. Chu Wanning was ill-tempered and ill-spoken, afraid of bitter medication and
unable to handle spicy food, and Mo Ran didn’t know if he hated or pitied him more.

“Sir!” Mo Ran screamed and scrambled toward him.

Chu Wanning’s hand trembled as he lifted his blank token slowly and extended it toward Mo Ran.
“Trade with me,” he said, eyes bright and resolute beneath a layer of wetness. “Hurry!”

Mo Ran half-crawled to Chu Wanning only to stare helplessly at the horrifying wound. “Sir, no,”
he said.

“Sir!” Xue Meng and Shi Mei crowded closer as well and Chu Wanning erected a barrier with a
flourish to keep them away.

“Heavenly Questions!” he called harshly. The willow vine appeared to slice through the dozens of
vines, but Chu Wanning could feel them devouring his qi even after they’d been severed. He
steeled himself and grabbed the broken ends, barely hesitating before ripping them out. Blood
poured from the wounds and he let the vine fragments go to tap his meridians and stanch the flow
temporarily. He glared at Mo Ran. “Give it to me,” he grated.

“Sir,” Mo Ran protested.

“Trade!” Chu Wanning roared harshly.

Mo Ran knew now what was meant by Blood Hourglass; Gouchen’s curse was the same torture
he’d inflicted on his teacher in his previous life. It was the most commonly devised punishment
when aiming for cruelty – drain the victim’s blood into the hourglass in place of sand or water to
keep time. The time to be measured ended when the blood ran dry, much as the Evil Overlord had
done at his coronation by watching his blood drip out bit by bit. Now, with Chu Wanning staring
down Gouchen’s blood hourglass, he saw his teacher willing to place himself willingly on the cross
in his place.
Mo Ran’s heart felt as if it were beating out of time. The copper hourglass brandished its thorny
vines in preparation for a second strike, and Chu Wanning stared at him with a trembling gaze.
Face pale with pain, he panted softly. “Mo Ran,” he said. “Give me your token. Hurry.” His face
was pale as fresh snow under moonlight. “Do you want me to block the next attack as well?”

“Sir!”

The vines lanced outward just as Mo Ran finally raised his token and Chu Wanning reached for it.
Mo Ran’s eyes flashed as he pulled his hand back and turned to shield Chu Wanning behind
himself. He met the second wave of vines head on. They enveloped him and dragged him to the
copper hour glass, coiling around his limbs and pinning them tightly to the cross. Mo Ran dragged
his head to look at his teacher, lips opening and closing around barely audible words.

Chu Wanning heard him clearly. “Sir,” Mo Ran was saying. “I’m not beyond remedy.” Please
don’t give up on me. It didn’t matter whether he finished the sentence; he hadn’t said them in his
previous life, and it was too late in this one as well. Mo Ran didn’t want to owe him anything,
couldn’t figure out what he felt toward his teacher and didn’t want to get any more confused than
he already was.

The rapid shifts in point of view are not well executed

Mo Ran knew he loved Shi Mei and no other and that he didn’t want to exchange tokens with his
teacher only because he didn’t want to owe him a favor. His heart wasn’t made of stone, and he
didn’t want to watch his teacher bleed out again. He was happiest when receiving kindness – a
small gesture of affection would leave him with a smile brighter than the spring, but great acts left
him willing to die without complaint in return.

The dense vines spat out a glistening sword – undoubtedly a holy weapon, it carried an
overwhelming aura of valor despite its age. A pair of rings flanked its hilt, and the pommel was
etched with thorned patterns in the shape of a bull-headed dragon. Its slender blade coursed with
azure radiance that gave off the air of slicing through the softest hair to the toughest metal.

Mo Ran barely had time to see Gouchen’s name written on the sword before the sword of the God
of Weaponry stabbed directly into his chest. Blood gushed into the hourglass and a curtain of water
poured into the arsenal. Its torrential deluge separated Mo Ran from everyone else, blocking their
view of him.

in the middle of a laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake, I haven’t forgotten they’re underwater but

you have

“Ran! Ran!” Shi Mei shouted, while Chu Wanning tried repeatedly to break through the water. He
failed over and over, until he was soaked through. His dark eyes dominated a colorless face as he
called Mo Ran’s name in a hoarse, shaking voice. Shi Mei flinched at the sound, turning to see his
usually calm and collected teacher soaked and disheveled with worry written plainly on his face.
Chu Wanning summoned Heavenly Questions, savagery writ across his face, and Shi Mei grasped
at him in unease. “Sir, stop, there’s no way to get through!”

Chu Wanning shook him off and raised a barrier to break through the waterfall, but it was infused
with the qi of Jincheng Lake. Chu Wanning not only couldn’t break through, but the water beat
down on him as if composed of arrows cutting and piercing his body. Chu Wanning staggered,
weakened from his already-grave injuries, and clutched his chest. He dropped to one knee, face
pale as the wounds on his back tore open and bled.

clotted that fast did they, wounds that impaled him all the way through from front to back
“Sir,” Shi Mei sobbed, and the wetness on his face could have been water or tears. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why,” Chu Wanning spat. “Do you think I wouldn’t do this for you or Xue
Meng?”

I feel that they are both focusing on something inconsequential just so the narrative can point
out Chu Wanning’s Feelings and like, not only is it badly written wangsty melodrama, it feels
forced

A sword flashed unexpectedly from behind the waterfall, effortlessly parting the torrential
downpour as if slicing tofu. Its energy was immense as it drove toward Shi Mei’s heart, and Chu
Wanning used the last of his qi to erect a barrier around his disciple. He coughed out a mouthful of
blood from the overexertion.

I’m sorry, I’m just laughing hysterically at the shitty line about slicing tofu and also at the
hacking up blood in true wuxia tropey form being somehow Dramatic when, again, this man
has been impaled by multiple objects and should be experiencing hypovolemic shock. His
arm should also be dangling uselessly but apparently not even punching through the
shoulder joint entirely can stop The Great Chu Wanning from waving his hands around and
it’s just really, really funny. Like, I can’t take any of this seriously, it’s not even endearingly
cheesy, just bad.

A deep and clear male voice rang out unhurriedly, reverberating inside the holy weapon arsenal. “I
am the God of Weaponry, Gouchen the Exalted. How dare ye crooks trespass on the forbidden
territory of holy weapons!”

------

“What kinda shitty god are you?” Xue Meng screamed. “You fuckin’ blind? Where do you see us
trespassing? We were kidnapped, you asshole!”

“It’s no use,” Shi Mei said. “He isn’t actually here, this is just a voice he left behind. The false
Gouchen must have addled Heart-Pluck Willow’s judgment, to make him see us as unscrupulous
trespassers.”

“Those worthy of holy weapons should embody virtue and resolve, unsusceptible to the allure of
fantastical illusions and capable of staying true to thy heart. Since thou hast come, thou must
undertake my trial. If thou dost pass, I shall offer thee safe passage and a holy weapon. But if thou
art selfish and faltering, then thou art unfit!”

“Virtue,” Chu Wanning snapped through bloodstained lips. “Like using someone as a blood
hourglass?” It didn’t matter that Gouchen couldn’t hear him or that every word exacerbated his
injuries, he was unable to control his temper.

Gouchen’s voice continued to reverberate, unheeding. “As a test of thy temperament, all of ye shall
be imminently submerged in Heart-Pluck Willow’s dream illusion. If thou doth fail to wake from
the illusion in time, thy companion shall bleed out and perish.”

All three cultivators paled, and Xue Meng recovered his voice first. “What kinda god even are you!
If cultivating into an immortal means ending up like you, I won’t deign to touch another sword for
the rest of my life!”

Chu Wanning wasn’t far behind. “What absurdity!”

“Sir!” Shi Mei tried to calm him. “You’ll only make your injuries worse.”

Shi Mei’s efforts were gainsaid by Gouchen choosing that moment to leisurely recite poetry.
“Water poured upon even ground chooses its own way. Sigh as thou walk and brood as thou lie, life
is predestined. Fill thy cup as comfort, song interrupted by toast, yet the road remains arduous. The
heart is not unfeeling wood or stone, words unspoken and steps untread, no words remaining.”

“What the hell!” Xue Meng snarled.

“It’s from Difficult Paths by Bao Zhao,” Shi Mei told him. “It means each person has their own
fate and there’s no point in wallowing in misery or trying to drown it in drink. We have feelings,
and we don’t always express them.”

if there was any tension, the poorly-timed insertion of the poem and its explanation would
have killed it

Gouchen the Exalted sighed. “How many people in this vast world wouldst be willing to abandon a
perfect dream just to save another? The world is filled with such incessant war and slaughter. If a
holy weapon were to fall into unscrupulous hands, the fault would be mine, and how could I, the
very creator of weapons, forgive myself.”

The arsenal grew dim and the floating parts ceased all movement. The only light came from above,
as reflections of stars slowly descended. It caught Shi Mei and Xue Meng in its hypnotizing effect
and rapidly cocooned them into slumber. Chu Wanning resisted a moment longer, but even he
could not resist the power of a founding god and fell into the dream.

oh yes the guy who was bleeding out a few minutes ago is the one who with the greatest
physical and mental fortitude, sure

Mo Ran remained wakeful inside the blood hourglass, blood bubbling up as he coughed. The
waterfall had diminished, and he could dimly see the outlines of his sleeping friends. All he could
do was wait for one of them to wake in time, but his body grew colder as the minutes crept past
with none of the other cultivators stirring. His head spun, and he thought dizzily that this was
perhaps retribution for the time he’d made Chu Wanning bleed out drop by drop.

It was laughable, Mo Ran knew, to hope that one of his friends would abandon a dream of their
heart’s desire just to save him – there was no chance at all that Xue Meng would, and Chu
Wanning was an even less likely prospect. He thought it would have to be Shi Mei or no one as his
hold on consciousness began to slip.

Mo Ran’s head dipped and he saw the bottom of the hourglass beneath his feet. The blood had
mixed with the water inside to dye it a faint, gleaming red, and he wondered suddenly what he
would see if he were to fall inside Gouchen’s illusion. Delicate, translucent wontons, he thought,
Shi Mei’s delicate smile and Chu Wanning’s praise and approval.

“Mo Ran,” someone said, but he couldn’t lift his head. Perhaps he was falling into the illusion after
all, but the voices didn’t stop calling. Mo Ran summoned a surge of strength and looked up to see
Shi Mei, just as he had hoped. His beloved hadn’t abandoned him, even when offered everything
he had ever wanted.

Tears choked his throat. “Shi Mei,” he got out. “You – you still remembered me.”

Wading through the water, Shi Mei’s hair and eyebrows were an even more striking black against
his soaked clothes and yet he still seemed as gentle as the countless dreams Mo Ran had had of him
in his previous life. “Of course I did,” Shi Mei said.

Only when he got close did Mo Ran notice that his feet were bleeding and that the ground had
become scalding hot – heat rose in waves, becoming more intense with every step forward Shi Mei
took. Gouchen was testing his companions’ hearts, Mo Ran realized, and the heat had already
burned through Shi Mei’s boots. It wasn’t enough to render Shi Mei unable to walk, just cause him
excruciating pain, and yet Shi Mei walked unwaveringly forward.

that is not how burns work, and also, they are still at the bottom of a fucking lake, ok

“Hold on just a little longer, Mo Ran,” he said. “I’ll get you down.”

The exhortation to stop and save himself died on Mo Ran’s lips – Shi Mei’s gaze was far too
determined. He didn’t even realize Shi Mei hadn’t called him Ran, so fixated on his kindness that
he couldn’t see that the person in front of him was Chu Wanning. Mo Ran didn’t understand that
the ancient willow spirit’s final technique, Heart Pluck, was an exchange of the heart and spirit
between two people. When Chu Wanning had broken free of the dream, his consciousness had
been placed in Shi Mei’s body.

Still asleep, Shi Mei was unaware of the transfer. Chu Wanning had no time to explain the truth to
Mo Ran, who still believed with heart and soul that his beloved would endure the excruciating pain
to save him. His persistent belief stemming from his memory of Shi Mei’s kindness was
exceedingly cruel to Chu Wanning.

is this satire? a parody of every over-the-top piece of tropey garbage? I can’t believe it took
so long to realize it reads like a twelve-year-old’s idea of what’s cool because it is deliberately
mocking bad writing and I am so much more entertained now

Tiny burning thorns sprouted from the towering vine as Chu Wanning finally reached the copper
hourglass and started climbing toward Mo Ran. He was caught off-guard, hands burned and
pierced, hindered by Shi Mei's weak body and low cultivation. The thorns sliced through his flesh
and sent him plummeting downward. He cursed Shi Mingjing's useless body under his breath,
biting down on his lip and refusing to cry out. He heard Mo Ran call Shi Mei's name as he tumbled
to the ground, knees scalded as he failed to land on his feet. Shi Mei's gentle beautiful face
transmuted his fiercely stoic expression to something heart-rending, and he could see tears start to
roll down Mo Ran's cheeks.

Mo Ran felt Shi Mei's injuries as though they were own, as his beloved climbed the vine with his
thin and fragile body although the thorns pierced his hands and the flames burnt his flesh. A trail
of scarlet spread in his wake, and Mo Ran closed his eyes against the blood bubbling up in his
throat. He choked on it, voice trembling, as he called Shi Mei's name again. His beloved was close,
eyes full of pain, and even Mo Ran's voice seemed to increase his torment. His eyes were pleading
in his implacable face.

"Please," Shi Mei said. "Stop calling my name. I've almost got you, Mo Ran." His eyes glinted with
determination, beautiful beyond words like the unsheathing of a blade.

oh my fucking god that's great, i love how she jumps from Pleading Eyes to Determined Eyes
and the comparison to a sword is just peak Bad Writing, excellent satirical choice

Chu Wanning leapt onto the hourglass, robes billowing and face wan. He was unsteady, nearly on
the verge of collapse, and only the rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still alive. Mo
Ran felt it would be better for he himself to bleed out and die than for Shi Mei to suffer so, and his
voice broke as he answered, "I'm sorry."

Knowing the apology wasn't for him, Chu Wanning wanted to explain. He glanced at the Exalted
Gouchen's silver-blue sword protruding from Mo Ran's chest, and concluded that it was most
likely the vines' source of qi. It would only injure Mo Ran further were he to explain, he thought,
and simply asked, "Mo Ran, do you trust me?"

“I trust you," Mo Ran said without hesitation. .

Chu Wanning glanced at him from beneath his lashes and gripped the sword; it was close to the
main artery and the slightest slip could cost Mo Ran his life. His hand trembled but didn’t move.

Mo Ran smiled with red-rimmed eyes. "Shi Mei," he said. “Am I about to die?”

"No," Chu Wanning said.

"If I'm about to die, can I hold you?"

The question was so hesitant, Mo Ran's eyes glistening with wetness, that Chu Wanning's heart
softened despite himself. Remembering that the person Mo Ran saw was someone else froze the
softness as soon as it had come, and he felt as though he were the comedic relief obscured behind
the beautiful flowing sleeves of the female lead. He was an unwanted part of this heartwarming
scene, his only use to wear the ugly face of the clown and act as a foil to the main characters' joys
and sorrows.

Mo Ran, unaware of his teacher's thoughts, saw only the flicker in his eyes and interpreted it as Shi
Mei's unwillingness to grant his request. "Just for a little while," he said quickly. "Just a little."

"I," Chu Wanning said, and sighed softly.

"What is it?"

"Never mind," Chu Wanning said. "Nothing." He leaned closer, taking care to avoid touching the
sword, and wrapped an arm around Mo Ran's shoulder. He heard his disciple thanking Shi Mei for
remembering him even in the dream and waking, and looked down with eyelashes fluttering like
butterfly wings. "It was nothing," he said, holding him and caressing his hair as if still in the dream.
"Did you know that the most wonderful dreams never come true?" he added. Mo Ran looked up,
not understanding what Shi Mei meant and only knowing the brief kindness he had been shown.

The sword was pulled out, and blood blossomed in the air like a flurry of crabapple blossoms in a
fierce gale. Sharp agony ripped through Mo Ran's chest and he knew he was about to die. "Shi
Mei," he said urgently. "I've always liked you. Do you like me back?"

The sword fell to the ground and the vines dissolved. The downpour ceased, and the arsenal was
once again tranquil. Mo Ran's body had reached its limits, and darkness cast him into Shi Mei's
bloodstained hands. The last thing he saw was Shi Mei's thin eyebrows drawn together and tears
sliding down his cheeks. "I like you too," Shi Mei seemed to whisper, and Mo Ran's last thought
was to wonder why Shi Mei looked so miserable as he confessed his love.

peak comedy, oh my god, the juvenile Do You Like Me on top of the overblown Blood
Fountaining Like Flowers, this is seriously a glorious skewering of every bad romance novel

------

Mo Ran opened his eyes to the sight of the arsenal, feeling as though he had been asleep for a long
time although only a few seconds seemed to have passed. He was lying on the ground without a
single injury, perhaps owing to the spell having been successfully broken, and the terrible wounds
on his body had been relegated to the realm of nightmare. He was surprised and delighted, and
looked over to Shi Mei to find that although his beloved had also lost consciousness, he was free of
wounds as well. He wondered if the Exalted Gouchen had healed the wounds they had received
when they had passed his test.

None of it felt real to Mo Ran, as if he had barely escaped with his life. His fellow disciples had yet
to awaken, but Shi Mei's eyes slowly fluttered open first. Mo Ran was overjoyed, calling to his
beloved. "Shi Mei! We made it! Look at me! Look!"

Confusion flickered over Shi Mei's face before awareness returned. "Ran!" he exclaimed. Mo Ran
embraced him tightly before he could continue, and Shi Mei gently patted his shoulder, even more
confused. "What happened to you?" he asked.

“I’m sorry that I made you suffer so.”

Shi Mei was confused. “I just had a dream," he said. "Nothing to worry about.”

“But the pain was still real!” Mo Ran insisted.

“What pain?” Shi Mei asked, but his words were drowned out by Xue Meng awakening with a
shout.

"Insolent ruffian!" he yelled, bolting upright. "How dare you grope me?"

"Young master," Shi Mei greeted him.

"What?" Xue Meng, apparently still thinking he was dreaming, frowned. "Why are you here?"

Still euphoric over surviving intact, Mo Ran found even Xue Meng's foibles endearing. He smiled
and explained what had happened to both of them, and Xue Meng finally realized what had been a
dream and that he was now in reality.

"I thought," Xue Meng said, and then cleared his throat. Trying to avoid the awkwardness, he cast
his gaze around to find that Chu Wanning had inexplicably not yet roused despite being the
strongest of them all. "Why is our teacher still out?" he asked, astonished.

The three disciples gathered around their teacher, and remembered that he had been injured before
they had fallen into the illusion. As only illusory injuries had been healed, Chu Wanning's shoulder
was still in a shockingly blood-soaked state.

"Let's wait and see if he wakes up," Mo Ran said, sighing.

In the time it took Chu Wanning to finally and slowly open his phoenix eyes, the disciples could
have burned an entire stick of incense. His eyes were empty and cold, like a heavy blanket of snow,
and it took him several moments to look at Mo Ran. Like Xue Meng, he seemed to wake while still
caught within the dream state. He reached for his student, voice cracking. "You," he said.

"Sir," Mo Ran answered, and Chu Wanning's hand froze in mid-air.

Warmth suffused Chu Wanning's pale face and his eyes brightened.

"Sir!" Xue Meng pushed forward, throwing himself at Chu Wanning and clutching his hand. "Are
you ok? Do you feel better? You were unconscious for so long, I thought the worry would kill me!"
A look of bemusement hushed over Chu Wanning's features as he saw Xue Meng. As his eyes fell
on Mo Ran holding Shi Mei's hand tightly, the last traces of fog faded from his gaze and his
expression cooled before dying as thoroughly as a fish in a dried pond.

"Sir, does your shoulder hurt?" Shi Mei asked with concern.

"No," Chu Wanning said calmly. "It's fine." He stood with Xue Meng's assistance, and Mo Ran
noticed that, although his shoulder was injured, he moved as though his feet hurt.

Under the impression that Chu Wanning was unaware of what had happened inside the illusion,
Mo Ran gave him a brief account. Shi Mei, having thought the story seemed odd the first time he'd
heard it, was more sure the second time. "Ran, you said I saved you?" he said, and frowned at Mo
Ran's assent. "But I was dreaming the whole time," he said. "I never woke up."

Mo Ran froze, then laughed. "Stop kidding around," he said.

"I'm not joking," Shi Mei insisted. "I dreamed that my parents were still alive. It felt so real that I
didn't think I could leave them behind." He looked as though he would have said more, but Chu
Wanning interrupted flatly.

"Gouchen probably wiped your memory," he said. "Xue Meng didn't save him, nor did I. If he says
it was you, then it was you." Seeing that Shi Mei looked unconvinced, Chu Wanning's face grew
colder. "What other explanation is there? That Gouchen has a way to swap souls between bodies?"

I love that here she uses failed dramatic irony to highly the asininity of putting forth What
Actually Happened as an absurdity, as if it's the first thing that would come to mind when
looking for something that would never happen - this is almost never done well and usually
comes off as stupidly contrived. See: skewering bad writing by presenting a clear example
and then playing it utterly straight

Hoping that Mo Ran had noticed that the person in the illusion hadn't been Shi Mei, Chu Wanning
hadn't wanted to suffer for nothing. He'd wanted Mo Ran to know that he'd bodyswapped with Shi
Mei. Hearing Mo Ran's confession of gratitude to Shi Mei brought a wave of embarrassment that
he'd looked into Mo Ran's bright black eyes and thought for even a moment that Mo Ran cared for
him even just a little. Even that humble expectation was such a weak and vulnerable spot that Chu
Wanning could barely admit to it in secret, but only he knew of the blood he had shed and the
injuries he had suffered. Mo Ran had no need to know.

Chu Wanning was a clever man, able to see how much his disciple treasured the beautiful and
gentle Shi Mei, and knew there was no reason Mo Ran would ever pay attention to the doll piled
with dust in the corner that he was. He knew he had lost to Shi Mei the moment Mo Ran confessed
his long-term crush, knew that Mo Ran thought Shi Mei had deigned to embrace him inside the
illusion. Mo Ran didn't need to know that accepting the embrace was charity he had bestowed upon
the pitiful soul of Chu Wanning, who believed that Mo Ran would never fall in love with him and
suppressed his feelings accordingly.

Reckless affection, Chu Wanning knew, and passionate obsessive entanglements only grew in the
soil of youth, and he had entertained them in his youth as well. He had waited and waited, but a
beloved had never appeared. As his name became more and more known within the cultivation
world, so did his reputation of having an unreasonable character. Time spun a cocoon around his
true self, the light of others around him initially visible but slowly cut off as the cocoon grew
thicker and thicker through the years to leave him in the darkness with only himself for company.
Chu Wanning lost the ability to believe in love and chance encounters, and refused to seek out
emotional intimacy.

What was the purpose, he thought, of fighting through the cocoon to cover himself with the
emotional wounds of vulnerability, when no one would be waiting for him on the other side. No
matter how he felt about Mo Ran, the boy was out of his league, too young and fiery. Even if Chu
Wanning got close, that flame would burn him to ashes. He had spent his youth waiting for others
to make the first move and actively avoided connecting with others as an adult, but he didn't know
what he had done wrong that every small daydream of being loved would be drowned in the frigid
rain of isolation.

I seriously do not know how I ever believed this backstory should be taken seriously. How did
I miss that this was a parody of The Alpha Male, honestly.

“Sir, look over there, quick!” Xue Meng’s sudden startled cry brought Chu Wanning’s mind back.
He followed Xue Meng's voice to see the smelting pool once again roiling in agitation. The willow
spirit broke through the water again, surrounded by flames. Its eyes were rolled back in a state of
senselessness, but it held Gouchen the Exalted's shimmering sacred sword.

Details like being at the bottom of a lake but simultaneously surrounded by air, and a
smelting pool being something that exists outside of Transformers comics or the idea that
smelting metal involves water at all, all of these absurd inconsistencies highlight the practice
of sloppy writing, I see it now and it is in retrospect on of the most consistently hilarious jokes
in this story

"Run! Hurry!" Chu Wanning ordered. The disciples dashed toward the exit as the willow spirit
raised its head to the sky and shrieked, chains clinking and clanking.

A voice rang out all around them although no one spoke. "Stop them! None shall escape!"

Xue Meng cried out in dismay. "There's someone in my head!"

"It's the Temptation of the Heart technique!" Chu Wanning snapped. "Ignore it and run!"

The three disciples remembered the technique, now that their teacher had reminded them, and that
it would use greed and desire as bait for its victims to slaughter each other. Chu Wanning heard the
voice hissing in his ear even as he spoke. "Such a respected cultivator, Constellation of the Night
Sky," it said. "Such an honorable man secretly in love with his own disciple. You give and give
and all he does is take without even a hint of gratitude - he only cares about that gentle, beautiful
Shi Mei. How pathetic you are."

Steely darkness adorned Chu Wanning's face as he ignored the voice entirely and focused on
reaching the exit.

"Come to my side," the voice hissed. "Take up the sword, kill that little simp, and no one will stand
between you. I will make him love only you, if you just come to me."

"Shut up, you wretch!" Chu Wanning snarled. He could see his disciples struggling with their own
temptations, and although they had slowed, they were still moving. The closer they got to freedom,
the louder Heart-Pluck Willow screamed in their minds and thrashed above the smelting pool.

"Once you leave, there will never be another chance!" the spirit moaned. It shrieked sharply,
tempting all of them with different offers. "Chu Wanning, do you want to die alone?" it asked, and
"Mo Weiyu, only I know where the resurrection pill is." It had other words for Shi Mei. "Only I
know the desire in the depths of your heart," it crooned, while it offered yet another temptation to
Xue Meng. "The weapon you've chosen is a fake! Only one item left in Jincheng Lake was crafted
by Gouchen the Exalted - come to me and I will give you this ancestral sword! You'll never be able
to compete with anyone else unless you have a holy weapon!"

Mo Ran suddenly noticed that his cousin had disappeared from his side, and called Xue Meng's
name. He turned to see that his cousin had come to a halt, staring at the sword. His heart fell, and
he remembered how obsessed Xue Meng had been with getting a holy weapon - how disappointed
he would have been to learn that he had received a fake. Heart-Pluck Willow couldn't have chosen
a better tactic to ensnare Xue Meng's heart.

"Don't believe him!" Mo Ran called, and Shi Mei chimed in with agreement, adding that they were
nearly free.

Xue Meng turned back to them, a lost expression on his face, but the echoing in his ears grew
sweeter. "They're jealous of you," the spirit sang. "They don't want you to have a holy weapon. Mo
Weiyu has his - why would he want you to be able to compare to him? If he's the only one to
succeed, of course he'll become the honored leader of Sisheng Peak instead of you."

"Shut up," Xue Meng muttered. He could see Mo Ran's mouth moving, but he couldn't make out
any of the words. "Shut your mouth!" he screamed. "Shut up!"

"Xue Ziming," whispered the voice. "There are no other weapons for you in this holy arsenal. If
you don't take the ancestral sword, you'll be subservient to Mo Weiyu forever. As your master,
he'll demand you kneel before him and obey his every command! But if you kill him, you can
escape this fate! Even fratricide has been forgiven throughout history, and he's only your cousin!
Why do you hesitate? Let me give you the sword."

"Xue Meng!" Mo Ran screamed, over Shi Mei's shout of "Young master!"

Xue Meng stopped struggling and opened his eyes. His pupils shone red.

"Come to my side," crooned the voice. "Darling of the heavens, worthy of leading an army of
millions."

"Xue Meng!" Chu Wanning called sharply, but he couldn't drown out the spirit.

"Only when you have become leader of Sisheng Peak will the lower cultivation world know peace!
You will alleviate suffering and avenge the injustices you've suffered!" Xue Meng stood before the
pool and reached out with a trembling hand. The willow spirit extended the silver-blue sacred
sword to him, and Xue Meng took it. "Kill them," the spirit said. "Kill Mo Weiyu."

Xue Meng screamed and pulled the long sword abruptly out of its sheath, a splendid steal blossom
in his hand. He struck swiftly, his handsome visage reflected in the sword's spiritual aura. His eyes
were clearer and brighter than Mo Ran had ever seen them, illuminated by the shine of the blade,
and they held not a hint of bloodlust. The blow was aimed not at Mo Ran but at the body of the
willow spirit. It pierced his abdomen, and he shook.

The trembling of the spirit was mirrored by the earth as the spell broke. The holy weapon arsenal
cracked and began to collapse around them. Xue Meng panted harshly; he'd used all of his qi to
break free of the enchantment. His young face was filled with determination and innocence as he
looked at the willow spirit, pride and naiveté in his gaze. "Don't fuck with me," he said. "And don't
even think about hurting anyone else."

The stench of blood filled the air as Xue Meng wrenched the sword out of the willow spirit's body.
It slumped in death, consciousness returning to disperse the resentful energy. The spirit clutched its
chest, steadying its failing body. "Thank you for stopping me," it mouthed.

The willow spirit was matched with the ancestral sword in power, resulting in a grievous loss for
both as they clashed. The sword dimmed in Xue Meng's hand, its spiritual aura nearly flickering
out. The million-year-old tree spirit's form dissipated, scattering millions of sparkles through the
water. Like fireflies, they danced until fading away, never to be seen again.

“Young master, come quick! This place is going to collapse!” Shi Mei called.

The earth shook around them as Xue Meng gave one last look toward the holy weapon arsenal. He
tossed the destroyed ancestral sword to the ground and left it behind as the ceiling of the arsenal
crashed down behind him like an avalanche.

------

The four cultivators - three exhausted and one injured - rested once they reached the
corridor outside the arsenal. No one spoke, three of them inspecting injuries while seated or
standing to recover their strength. Xue Meng stood lost in thought, head down. Mo Ran, noticing,
murmured his name, but Xue Meng only walked stiffly to stand in front of Chu Wanning. He
looked up to his teacher and opened his mouth to speak.

"Sir," Xue Meng said, voice like shattered glass. Chu Wanning wanted to pet his tousled hair, but
restrained himself. "Did I get a fake holy weapon the first time?" Chu Wanning's silence was
answer enough, and Xue Meng's eyes grew redder. Only his pride kept tears from falling. "Will I
ever get one?"

Chu Wanning sighed, and silence fell in the corridor. "Silly child," he said. Xue Meng's composure
crumpled, and he threw himself into Chu Wanning's arms.

"Sir," he choked out, bawling. "Sir." Failure to obtain a holy weapon all but forfeited a cultivator's
chances for advancement. No matter how accomplished, a mortal's powers were finite. Without a
holy weapon, the cultivator would be limited by their flesh and blood. The heirs of most sects had
holy weapons passed down from their predecessors, powerful even if not a perfect match with their
spiritual energies. Only Xue Meng had never received a weapon from Jincheng Lake, and his
choice to wield the sword against the willow spirit had meant giving up on his dreams of leading
the cultivation world.

Chu Wanning said nothing, only held his student and stroked his hair as he cried. Xue Meng's
pampered upbringing meant he had never suffered injustice, spending his days in arrogance. It was
the first time he had cried that he could remember, words broken like the holy weapon he had
destroyed, shattered like the aspirations he had once been so sure of. "Xue Meng," Chu Wanning
said, as the waves at the bottom of the lake rippled past his white cloak and long inky hair.

note how the narration skips back to being underwater here - the author is very committed to
this gag

Mo Ran could only see the fine curtain of lashes over the gentle fragments of light in Chu
Wanning's eyes, then the waves picked up and he could no longer see his teacher's face clearly in
the dim light. He heard him consoling Xue Meng, voice not quite gentle, but words softer than any
Mo Ran had ever heard him speak. Silence fell in the corridor, each cultivator lost in thought.

Mo Ran leaned against the cold wall, heart heavy as he watched his teacher console Xue Meng,
and pondered how they had arrived at the lake fresh and energized but were leaving laden with
sounds. The darling of the heavens for fifteen years, well-regarded and high-spirited, Xue Meng
had lost everything. He would have to spend the rest of his life trying to forget past glory.

The willow collapsed slowly into the pool as they escaped the arsenal, an ancient colossus finally
exhausted, as if the sun itself had gone out. The merfolk scattered in terror, and the ancient arsenal
ceased to exist. The celestial tree fell with a deafening rumble, precipitating a surging tide in
Jincheng Lake. Faced with the sucking whirlpool, the merfolk transformed desperately back into
their original forms, filling the lake with glimmering scales. Little room was left for mere mortals.

"We can't escape this way!" Mo Ran shouted. A thick tail smashed toward him, and he barely
dodged. A black dragon swooped toward them, larger than the rest, black scales limned in gold.
"Wangyue?"

The great dragon let out a mighty roar. Formerly mute, he spoke with a low voice reminiscent of
the chime of a great clock. "Hurry, climb on my back. Now that Heart-Pluck Willow is gone, the
lake is soon to follow. I'll take you to safety!"

Whether Wangyue was friend or enemy did not matter to the group; they had no other choice.
Wangyue surged through the perilous waters with his precious burden, the crowd of dragons
parting in his wake. He burst out of the water and soared into the skies. The four cultivators barely
managed to hold on, water hitting them like a ton of bricks. Only when they were soaring through
the clouds high above the lake were any of them able to even open their eyes. Droplets of water
flew off the dragon's mirror-like scales, fracturing into countless rainbows in the sky. Wangyue
raised his head in a roar as color washed over the land.

"Oh my god, I'm flying on a dragon!" Xue Meng exclaimed from behind Mo Ran, distracted from
his troubles by the spectacle.

Wangyue gradually shrunk as he descended, landing on the shore of the lake at less than half of his
original size and remaining still until all four of them had climbed down. The icy surface of the
lake had melted, waves churning and scattering the remaining fragments. The first light of dawn
shone pure white in the eastern sky as sunlight spilled brilliantly in to the lake.

I am dead of laughing that Our Heroes have destroyed the holy arsenal, destroyed the holy
lake, and also destroyed the local economy since there will be no more pilgrimages to a place
that doesn't exist. Nice job breaking it, hero.

"Look at the dragons in the lake!" Shi Mei called, and his companions saw the dragons twisting
and coiling beneath the surface gradually stop moving until they crumbled one after another into
specks of dust. Black chess pieces floated up from the lake, gathering in the air.

"Zhenlong Chess Formation," Mo Ran muttered, only now realizing that nothing in the lake had
not been under the puppet master's control. He shuddered, realizing that the timeline was off. The
first time he'd been alive, there had been no one who had had this level of skill with the forbidden
technique. What was the false Gouchen's real identity, he wondered.

"Wangyue!" Xue Meng cried abruptly.

The old dragon was crouched motionless on the ground; although no chess piece had appeared
near his body, he appeared extremely weak. "You did well," he said softly. "Far preferable to have
our exalted god's creation be destroyed than have it fall into the hands of a villain." Light subsumed
his body as his voice faded, shrinking into a human form with the face of the elderly merman who
had led them into the arsenal. A hint of guilt was in his eyes.
"Why did you take us in there?" Xue Meng demanded. "Did you want to help us or hurt us? If we
hadn't passed the spirit's test, we would have-" He broke off.

"Please accept my apologies," Wangyue said, looking down. "I could do nothing else. The false
Gouchen's cultivation being insufficient, he relied entirely on Heart-Pluck Willow's spiritual power
to wield the forbidden technique. Only by overcoming the willow could the technique be defeated.
I had to rely on you." Chu Wanning approached him and began to channel qi into the dragon's
injuries. Wangyue let out a long sigh. "You are kind, but it is my time. I, too, have been sustained
by the willow's qi. The order of life and death cannot be forced, and I have seen my greatest hope
already fulfilled with the nightmare of the lake destroyed. I regret that I had to involve you all."

"No matter," Chu Wanning said. "Do you know who the pretender is, or what he wants?"

“I do not know who he is," Wangyue replied, "but his goal is most likely enough power to
command the three forbidden techniques.”

“The forbidden techniques require an incredible amount of qi," Chu Wanning mused. "It would
indeed be much easier with the help of an ancient tree spirit.”

“Yes, so he said. He said that ancient spirits are immensely powerful but extremely difficult to
find. The only one traceable from the ancient records was Heart-Pluck Willow. He's only been here
a short while, and has spent all his time at the bottom of the lake practicing Rebirth and Zhenlong
Chess Formation." The dragon sighed, eyes empty and dull.

Mo Ran's heart fell; the trip to the lake was nothing like his memory. He had no idea what had
happened to change history so much.

"He couldn't control the living," the dragon said. "So he killed countless denizens of the lake and
controlled their corpses instead. It only took a few weeks for him to massacre them all. A few, such
as myself, were left alive to become experiments."

“When you came out of the water to meet me," Mo Ran asked, "were you being controlled?”

“No.” Wang Yue slowly closed his eyes. “He could control the others, the fox spirit or even Heart-
Pluck Willow, but he could not control me. I am a spiritual beast tamed by the Exalted Gouchen at
the creation of the world, millennia ago. I was branded with his seal, loyal to only one master in life
and in death.”

“Then why,” Mo Ran started.

“It was an act," Wangyue sighed. "I had no choice. Even though he couldn't control me completely,
enough of the brand's effectiveness had faded over millions of years to allow him to take partial
control. I couldn't speak because he had control of my throat, and regained the ability to speak
when his magic was dispelled."

“Did he know you were pretending?”

“I doubt it.” Wangyue looked at Mo Ran. “He would have taken your spiritual core today in order
to extend Heart-Pluck Willow’s life, but he didn't know I planned to bring you into the arsenal to
destroy the ancient willow and so took no precautions against it.”

“Perhaps," Chu Wanning said suddenly, "it’s not that he did not take precautions against you, but
rather that he did not have the strength to spare.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something else odd about the pretender.”

------

The faint odor clinging to the pretender hadn’t registered until Chu Wanning had pointed it out, but
Mo Ran suddenly recognized the smell of death. Not only was the pretender not the god, he wasn’t
even alive. The puppet master was pulling the strings on a corpse dressed as the God of Weapons
from somewhere else entirely.

A sorrowful laugh drifted out of the lake, followed immediately by a deathly pale body shooting
out of the water. The false Gouchen’s skin had wrinkled like a silkworm breaking from a cocoon,
and he levitated above the crystalline waters with his face twisted into a gnarled smirk.
“Constellation of the Night Sky,” he sneered, pieces of his skin falling off, “The Holy Grace
Immortal. Grandmaster Chu, you live up to your names. How did Rufeng Sect let someone like
you slip through their fingers?”

“Who are you?” Chu Wanning asked frostily.

“You don’t need to know who I am,” the false Gouchen said. “Think of me as someone who
should have died long ago but crawled out of hell just to take the lives of you righteous, honorable
types!”

“Shameless!” rumbled Wangyue. “Heart-Pluck Willow has been destroyed! You cannot hope to
use the forbidden techniques to perpetrate further transgressions without its help!”

The false Gouchen sneered. “You old eel, on your last breath and still trying to get in my way.
What makes you think you have the right to speak here? Get lost!”

“As a white chess piece,” Chu Wanning interrupted, “what gives you the right to speak?”

The white chess piece, Mo Ran knew, was a special type of pawn; always a newly deceased body,
it held a portion of the user’s soul and acted as the user’s stand-in and with some independence. It
was able to convey what it saw and heard to its user. The false Gouchen, identity exposed, laughed
and clapped. “Well done,” it cried. “Very good, very good indeed.” Its face collapsed further, spell
nearing its end and allowing the original form of the corpse to show. “Do you really think this will
stop me?” it sneered. “Don’t make me laugh. My original self can always find other sources of qi.
You, on the other hand.”

The false Gouchen’s eyes swept past Chu Wanning to land on Mo Ran with malicious intent. Mo
Ran was struck with a wave of apprehension. The false Gouchen mocked him.

“I’m not the only one who knows the three forbidden techniques,” it said. “Watch your back.”

“Explain yourself,” Chu Wanning snapped sternly, eyebrows lowered in a frown.

Instead of complying, the false Gouchen’s body froze and exploded into a foul-smelling miasma. A
white chess piece tumbled into the lake below, signaling the end of the puppet master’s qi.
Wangyue staggered at the same moment, falling to the ground with a thud.

“Wangyue!” cried Xue Meng, echoed by Mo Ran.

The cultivators gathered around the dragon. He spoke with a voice as raspy as the setting sun.
“Don’t believe his nonsense,” he gasped. “There were more lies than truth to his words.”

“Elder, please don’t speak,” Shi Mei said worriedly. “Let me heal you.”
“No,” the dragon said, coughing. “Your master couldn’t do it. Don’t try. The willow tree destroyed
all of the holy weapons left behind when the imposter came, leaving only the willow vine and the
Exalted God’s sword.” Xue Meng’s face darkened at the mention of the sword, mouth set in a thin
line. “The willow vine went to this young cultivator,” the dragon continued. “When I told you that I
would only hope you would pursue goodness in the future, that was a lie. In truth, my master
wished for holy weapons to belong only to the virtuous. I hope that you will be so.”

“I will, Elder,” Mo Ran murmured.

“Good, good,” the dragon murmured, and gazed skyward with trembling lips. “When one goes to
Jincheng, the creature of the lake will make a request. Most of these requests gauge the seeker’s
moral character, but sometimes there were exceptions.” His voice grew softer. “I was ordered to
stay and guard the lake, but who would have guessed that I would be here alone for thousands of
years, never to see the sights of my youth again?” He gazed beseechingly at Mo Ran, tears in his
eyes, and Mo Ran knew what he was about to say. “Young cultivator, the plum blossoms at the
base of the mountain bloom year-round. Even though you already have your weapon, would you
still be willing?”

Mo Ran’s fervent agreement was on the tip of his tongue, but the light in the dragon’s eyes was
abruptly extinguished. Snow-tipped peaks towered majestically in the distance as the rising sun
bathed the waters in its red light. The waves reflected gleaming crimson to mark the passing of one
of the oldest dragons. Present at the creation of the world, Wangyue had once been earth-shakingly
powerful, and had served Gouchen out of respect and not out of obedience to the brand.

Wangyue knew what few others did – that Gouchen the Exalted had demon blood coursing through
his veins. His mother had been taken against her will, but he had abhorred his heritage and stood
with Fuxi against his kin’s invasion. He had used his demonic blood to forge the first true sword
and sweep his kin from the land. After the unification of heaven and earth, Fuxi had harbored
misgivings and resentment, leading Gouchen to leave the realm of the gods for the realm of man.

Endless suffering and slaughter greeted the god of weapons on his journey, and he believed he
shouldn’t have created the sword. Remorse filling him, he gathered the weapons and sealed them
into the arsenal at the bottom of the lake. The willow tree was planted as guardian and instructed
the denizens of the lake to only entrust them to the virtuous.

With the death of the dragon, no more holy weapons remained and the merfolk were no more. The
realm below the surface of the lake had scattered like so much smoke and ash, and the four
cultivators stood in silence. The scarlet letters shone brightly in the ferocious snowstorm as they
had when the cultivators had first seen it – The Way Forward Is Difficult – and the now-serene
surface of the lake hid the suffering that had transpired below.

ah, yes, it is well known that the sunrise is especially visible in the middle of a raging
snowstorm

Mo Ran looked up at the sky to see a lone eagle soaring above the precipice. He remembered the
powerful long blade he had received in his first life, and wondered if it had been destroyed by the
willow before he could so much as see it. More memories followed unbidden – Wangyue emerging
from the water with gentle, friendly eyes and asking for a plum blossom from the base of the
mountain. Mo Ran had thought then that the request was pointless pretension.

The journey back to Sisheng Peak took many days; the three disciples were exhausted, and Chu
Wanning’s shoulder was seriously injured. The group spent several days in Dai City before
embarking. When they arrived, Xue Meng said nothing to his parents; either sympathy or
disappointment would have been salt on his still-open wounds. Chu Wanning buried himself in
ancient tomes and scrolls to find another method of obtaining a holy weapon for his student or a
way to allow a mortal to rival a holy weapon in strength.

Chu Wanning had other matters to investigate, as well – the puppet master behind the false
Gouchen occupied his thoughts as he spent nights in the library of the Red Lotus Pavilion. Candles
burned down and the water clock dripped to the tune of his exhaustion.

“Constellation,” Xue Zhengyong said, holding a warm cup of tea. “Don’t push yourself so hard.
What about your shoulder? Elder Tanlang is a great healer, let him take a look at it.”

“No need, it’s already started to heal.”

Xue Zhengyong clicked his tongue. “You look terrible,” he said. “Like you’re about to fall over.
Everyone says so. Maybe the wound is poisoned.”

Chu Wanning blinked. “About to fall over?” he said, with a cold smile. “Which everyone said so?”

“Constellation,” Xue Zhengyong complained. “It’s not like you’re made of metal and the rest of us
are made of paper.”

“I know my limits,” Chu Wanning said.

“Know your limits, my ass,” Xue Zhengyong said, too quietly for Chu Wanning to hear. As it got
late, he got up to take his leave and return to his wife. “Constellation,” he said, “don’t stay up too
late. Meng would die of guilt if you got worse because of him.” Chu Wanning pointedly ignored
him, and Xue Zhenglong gave up.

I see we continue to poke fun at the idea that Not Needing Others Is Admirable, this time by
having Chu Wanning act like an asshole to his friend trying to help him

Chu Wanning downed medication and returned to his research until he was derailed by dizziness
and nausea. The stomach upset faded quickly, and he put it out of his mind. The night grew later,
and he finally fell asleep with his head pillowed on a sweeping sleeve. With a small mountain of
tomes next to him and an unfinished scroll across his knees, Chu Wanning dreamt.

Unlike most dreams, Chu Wanning’s vision was clear and distinct. He stood inside Sisheng Peak’s
Loyalty Hall, but many of the details looked different. Before he could examine them, the gates
swung open and someone walked in.

“Sir,” he said.

“Mo Ran?” Chu Wanning asked. His student was a grown adult, handsome of face but almost
childlike in his smile. He wanted to approach, but his wrists and ankles had been shackled by metal
chains and qi. Shock was followed by rage, twisting his expression and strangling the words in his
throat. “Mo Weiyu,” he finally choked out. “What is the meaning of this? Untie me at once!”

Mo Ran strode silently over with a lazy smile and gripped Chu Wanning by the jaw.

------

The adult Mo Weiyu was gallant, broad-shouldered and long-legged, half a head taller than Chu
Wanning himself. He stared in shock as Mo Ran looked down at him mockingly.

“Dear teacher,” he said, “you should really take a look in the mirror.” His finger slid along Chu
Wanning’s face to rest by his ear, eyes cold as he leaned over to press his lips against Chu
Wanning’s mouth. Chu Wanning’s head hummed with white noise as something in his mind
snapped and he felt Mo Ran’s filthy, sinful desire. His spiritual powers were gone and he couldn’t
gather enough physical strength to break free. The dream version of Mo Ran was utterly unlike the
one he knew, deferential ingratiation replaced with overbearing tyranny. Mo Ran’s heated breath
scalded him like lava, threatening to melt his flesh and bone alike.

Anger suffused his face, and Chu Wanning couldn’t accept that Mo Ran was holding him captive.
Even harder to countenance was the heat gathering in his abdomen, leaching the strength out of his
legs. Mo Ran pressed his face against the back of his ear, panting against the base of his neck.

“Didn’t you want to talk conditions?” Mo Ran whispered hoarsely, voice nearly unrecognizable.
Chu Wanning could see his throat bob as he swallowed in a bid to maintain control. “But since you
have almost nothing left, you only have one thing to bargain with.”

“What do you mean?” Chu Wanning asked, his own voice hoarse.

Mo Ran backed him into a wall, raising a hand to strike the hard surface. His other hand gripping
Chu Wanning’s shackled wrist, he bit an earlobe. Chu Wanning shuddered violently, a frightening
numbness spreading from his spine up through his scalp. “Let me fuck you,” Mo Ran whispered,
“and I’ll grant your request.” Chu Wanning’s eyes widened. Mo Ran’s hand was already on his
waist, venomous words unsoftened by the tender tone. “But since I hate you so much, it might be
hard to summon interest in your body. You’ll have to work a little for it.” Mo Ran paused, but gave
his words the lie by pulling him in closer. “If you’re willing, get on your knees like a good boy and
put your mouth to work. Afterwards, spread yourself on the bed, and beg me to fuck you.”

The virtuous, proud austere Constellation Saint had kept his distance from men and women alike,
indulging in neither erotic art nor amorous song, and knew nothing in matters of love or lust. In
spite of his anger, his defenses fell apart in the face of the unfamiliar heat pooling below Mo Ran’s
grip on his waist.

Mo Ran cursed under his breath at Chu Wanning’s lack of reaction and began to touch him again,
unable to hold back. He was none too gentle, and Chu Wanning’s scalp grew number still when
Mo Ran began to pull roughly at his robes. “Virtuous and saintly, my ass,” Mo Ran muttered as he
tore Chu Wanning’s clothes off. His gaze was heated and crazed, the light of long-accumulated
hatred spilling out over a lava-hot wave of desire. As if burned by his predatory gaze, Chu
Wanning wanted to look away. Mo Ran gripped his face tightly before he could so much as twitch.
“Look at me,” he ground out, voice rough and heated. “I said, look at me!”

Chu Wanning closed his eyes, shaken by the absurdity of the dream, and heard a soft, warm voice
in his ear. It was a familiar tone, calling for him to wake, and his vision resolved into Mo Ran’s
youthful face hovering inches from his own. He automatically reacted with a well-placed slap to
his student’s cheek, and Mo Ran squeaked in surprise.

“Sir,” he said. “What was that for?”

Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes flickered between anger and alarm, dream not quite faded. Mo Ran
inched toward him, looking concerned. “Stay away!” Chu Wanning snapped, brows lowered in a
scowl.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Mo Ran asked cautiously after a moment.

Chu Wanning stared at him blankly, before it sank in that he had been dreaming. He was in the
library, at the Red Lotus Pavilion, not in Loyalty Hall. The Mo Ran in front of him was a teenager,
not an adult. Finally fully awake, he schooled his expression into propriety and made a show of
rearranging his clothes to hide the persistent remnants of agitation and unease. “I was dreaming of
hitting someone,” he said finally.

“Who?” Mo Ran asked, rubbing his reddened cheek and wincing. “You hit me so hard.”

Chu Wanning pressed his lips together in embarrassment and loftily refused to reply. His face was
calm, betraying nothing of the surging of his heart. He could all but feel his pride on the verge of
shattering into a million pieces at the memory of preposterous, filthy dream. How shameless he
truly was, that even his body had reacted with enthusiasm, Chu Wanning thought, and was grateful
that his robes were loose enough to hide his erection.

Propping a forehead on one hand, Chu Wanning’s face darkened as he thought that while he
couldn’t vent his anger on the dream version of his student, the real Mo Ran had conveniently
delivered himself for punishment. “What are you doing, barging into my private quarters in the
middle of the night?” he asked sullenly. “Since when do you bear the title of Constellation Saint?”

Mo Ran felt ill-used by the undeserved slap followed by a scolding. “Why are you so mad?” he
asked, voice small.

“I’m not mad.” Chu Wanning scowled. “I’m going back to sleep. Get out.”

“Sir, it’s already morning,” Mo Ran said, and hesitated before plunging on with his explanation. “I
only came in here without permission because we were waiting so long.”

Light was visible around the shuttered window, and Chu Wanning opened it to hear birds singing.
The sun was high in the sky. He scowled, as if he might summon Heavenly Questions to whip Mo
Ran. If he hadn’t been woken, the dream that had trapped him might have continued. He gripped
the window frame until his knuckles turned white – having practiced mental cultivation, restraint,
and discipline, he was proficient in suppressing desires.

Chu Wanning had never entertained an unbecoming thought, much less a wet dream. He had
thoroughly and successfully suppressed all desires, looking on lovers and dual cultivation partners
with contempt and self-satisfaction at his own incorruptible virtue. He would never have
anticipated falling to his own needs.

The wise, strong, noble, aloof Grandmaster Chu dared not look at the object of his desire as he
snapped, “It’s time for morning practice. We’re going to the Platform of Sin and Virtue.” He turned
abruptly and left.

peak comedy, honestly, this is a hilarious caricature of Purity and it’s so funny

Chu Wanning’s other two disciples were seated under a tree chatting when he arrived. Shi Mei
seemed distraught. “He’s never late,” he fretted. “What if something happened?”

Xue Meng looked even more worried. “Mo Ran’s been gone so long,” he said. “What if
something’s wrong with our teacher? I hope he’s not sick.”

“His injuries were so severe,” Shi Mei said. “Even with the proper care, his body is so frail.”

Xue Meng stood abruptly. “I can’t wait any more. We shouldn’t have sent Mo Ran for him, he’s
utterly unreliable. I’m going to go check.”

Chu Wanning strode up to him, pristine robes fluttering, and both of his disciples called for him
simultaneously. He held up a hand. “I was delayed. We’ll start training now.”
Behind him, Shi Mei sidled up to Mo Ran. “What was it?” he whispered. “Is he ok?”

“Just overslept,” Mo Ran whispered back, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Shi Mei squawked.

“Quiet,” Mo Ran hissed, rubbing his still-sore cheek and hoping to avoid an encore.

“Hey, why’s your left cheek red?” Shi Mei asked.

“If you don’t shut up, my right cheek will match,” Mo Ran muttered. “Come on.”

Shi Mei and Mo Ran were instructed to hold the first practice match while Xue Meng was
instructed to sit. He obeyed promptly, and Chu Wanning sat across from him. “The spiritual
mountain competition is in three years,” he said. “What are your plans?”

Xue Meng gritted his teeth. “Win,” he finally said. Had he been asked before the trip to Jincheng
Lake, his answer would have been proudly certain. All that was behind his answer now was a
simple and stubborn refusal to give up his pride. He knew how low his chances were, but he
couldn’t step aside and give up his reputation as the darling of the heavens without a fight. He
snuck a glance at his teacher, anxious to see his reaction.

No derision or doubt showed on his teacher’s face. “Good,” he answered.

Xue Meng’s eyes lit up. “Sir, do you think – do you think I can still –“ He stumbled over his words
in his excitement.

“My disciples don’t give up before the fight.”

“Sir.”

“Outstanding youths from all sects participate in the Spiritual Mountain Competition,” Chu
Wanning said. “Those without holy weapons are naturally no match for you, but even if your
opponent does have a holy weapon, there’s no need to be afraid. A holy weapon cannot be easily or
quickly mastered, and your Longcheng blade is a superb, high-quality weapon of mortal
craftsmanship. If you train and practice diligently for these three years, winning is certainly not
outside the realm of possibilities.”

Between Grandmaster Chu’s reputation for a discerning eye and judgment in the realm of martial
arts and Xue Meng’s experience in his lack of inclination to tell encouraging white lies, Xue Meng
felt immense relief. “You mean it?” he said.

“How old are you, Xue Meng?” Chu Wanning asked. “I don’t coddle anyone over the age of five.”
Xue Meng grinned at his words, embarrassed. “Win or lose, your pride is what’s important. Just do
your best.”

“Yes, sir!” Xue Meng exclaimed.

Having done his due diligence by Xue Meng, Chu Wanning headed toward the back of the training
field and its supply of training dummies. It had been built out of the way, at the other end of a long
corridor and around a corner, in order to prevent accidentally injuring passersby. Mo Ran and Shi
Mei were chatting, barely within hearing distance, their backs to him. Chu Wanning was about to
call them over, but the sight before him froze the words in his throat.

------
Chu Wanning was too furious to speak - he loved weapons, and the idiocy before him was
unbearable. Mo Ran had summoned What The Hell, shrinking it nearly into insignificance. The
holy weapon was no wider than a cord for tying hair, looking like nothing so much as a red string
of fate. The dignified tool looked utterly pitiful.

"Shi Mei," Mo Ran was saying, "tie this on your finger. I want to see if it has the same power as
Heavenly Questions, to coax the truth out of people."

"You want to test it on me?"

"Yep," Mo Ran said, smiling. "I know you'd never lie to me, and we're so close."

"That's true," Shi Mei said hesitantly. "But."

"I won't ask anything weird," Mo Ran said. "Pinky swear."

Shi Mei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “How old are we already? Isn’t that childish?”

“C’mon, let’s pinky swear, if it’s fine at eight then it’s fine at eighteen, eighty-eight, too.” Mo Ran
grabbed Shi Mei’s right hand and pried his pinky out with a cheeky grin. Shi Mei submitted, caught
between anger and laughter at his antics. Instead of hooking their pinkies together, Mo Ran
grinned. “What The Hell, time to get to work.” What The Hell tied itself around Shi Mei's pinky in
a flash, the other end fastened to Mo Ran's little finger. He laughed like a fox, dimples appearing,
and said, “Congrats, you fell for it.”

Shi Mei felt even more torn between tears and laughter. "Let me go!"

“Later, later.” Mo Ran grinned. “Just a couple of questions first.”

Mo Ran had been plagued with unease since Shi Mei had been unable to open the Ever-Yearning
box. Gloves or no gloves, he couldn't shake his doubts. That Chu Wanning had successfully
opened the box made him feel worse, and although Mo Ran told himself he was sure the box must
have been broken, he wanted to use What The Hell to confirm Shi Mei's feelings for him. He
clearly remembered the confession under the lake, but he thought he might have imagined it.

Shi Mei's gentle demeanor and indiscriminate kindness couldn't be more of a contrast to Chu
Wanning's sullen and unlikeable temperament, Mo Ran thought, and feigned a casual air to cover
his anxious heart. "First off," he said, and decided to use a couple low-stakes questions to set the
stage. "What do you think of Xue Meng?"

What The Hell pricked his finger, and Shi Mei confessed. "He's a good person, but he's too
straightforward and utterly tactless."

Mo Ran laughed out loud. "He even gets on your nerves? Wow, yeah, he's so annoying."

Shi Mei blushed uncomfortably. "Be quiet. What if he hears you?"

"Okay, okay, okay." Mo Ran grinned. "I like it when you badmouth him. What do you think about
our teacher?" he continued.

"He's good, too, but his temper is, uh." Shi Mei looked reluctant, but the holy weapon bound his
hand. "He's a little short-tempered."

"A little?" Mo Ran cackled. "More like incredibly. He gets pissy every other day, and won't even
admit it. Worse than the empress herself."
Neither of them were aware of Chu Wanning listening from around the corner.

"If you're aware of his bad temper, why'd you pick him?"

"He's cold on the outside," Shi Mei said. "But kind on the inside. I'm not gifted, but he doesn't
mind. He says everyone deserves to learn, and he teaches me what I'm good at. He's very kind to
me."

Mo Ran's glee faded and his face fell. "When was he kind to you?" he snapped. "All he ever did
was teach you some techniques and maybe take care of you occasionally, but that's the bare
minimum."

"That's different."

"He's not good to you!" Mo Ran insisted, cheeks puffed out. "Whatever he does for you, so can
I!" An awkward silence fell, and Mo Ran tamped down the flames in his heart. Seeing Shi Mei
silently stare at the ground filled him with guilt. "Sorry," he whispered.

“It’s alright,” Shi Mei said, but suddenly added, "Before you came to Sisheng Peak, I was walking
outside when it suddenly started storming. I hadn't chosen my teacher, but I bumped into him. He
was holding an umbrella, and he offered to share it with me. I knew his reputation, and I was very
nervous."

"Then what happened?"

"We were quiet the whole way home," Shi Mei said softly.

Mo Ran nodded. "He's a terrible conversationalist."

"Yes." Shi Mei smiled a little. "He doesn't talk much. But when he left me at the door, I saw that
his other shoulder was drenched. I didn't get rained on at all." He paused. "It was a small umbrella,
only big enough for one person, but he used it to keep me dry. That was when I asked him to accept
me as a disciple."

"That's enough," Mo Ran said. "You're way too soft-hearted. Pathetic, even."

"Ran," Shi Mei said softly. "Don't you think Chu Wanning deserves your pity? His only umbrella
is the little one because he's always alone. So even if he's strict or yells, I don't mind. I remember
how wet he was."

The tip of Mo Ran's nose turned red to reflect his forlorn heart. He wasn't even sure why he was
sad.

"Ran, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you hate our teacher?"

Mo Ran hesitated.

"You don't like him, right?" Shi Mei's usually gentle gaze seemed sharp, and Mo Ran found
himself speechless in the face of it. He couldn't answer either way, and finally forced a smile.

"Hey, I'm the one that's supposed to be asking the questions here," he said. "Can't let you turn it
around like that."
It didn't escape Shi Mei that Mo Ran had dodged the question, but he only smiled. "I was just
wondering," he said. "It's not a big deal."

Mo Ran looked up at Shi Mei through his lashes. His beloved was no less beautiful than the moon
in the sky, and although Mo Ran had planned to ask him if he liked him for his third question, his
heart now felt too heavy. "He's just my teacher," he said instead. "Nothing more. It doesn't matter if
I like him."

Chu Wanning's eyelashes quivered like the wings of an injured butterfly as he heard Mo Ran's
words; his head felt light enough to float away but his heart felt heavy enough to sink into the sea.
He felt cold, as if autumn had come early. The light and intermittent nausea plaguing him washed
over him again, and he turned to leave. He had only taken a few steps when Mo Ran's voice
reached his ears again.

"You've done Xue Meng and our teacher. Do me next." Chu Wanning thought he sounded almost
pathetic as he asked, "Shi Mei, what do you think of me?"

Shi Mei was quiet, and What The Hell's scarlet radiance grew brighter around Shi Mei's finger.
Chu Wanning surmised that it did have the same interrogative abilities as Heavenly Questions, and
Shi Mei winced in pain.

"Just say something." Mo Ran's heart ached for him, but the question had sunk so deeply into his
heart in both of his lives that he couldn't let it go. "What do you think of me?"

Shi Mei closed his eyes, shaking his head as if in a great deal of pain. Sweat gathered on his
forehead.

"Forget it," Mo Ran said, and he was about to remove the holy weapon when Shi Mei spoke.

"I think you're great," he said hoarsely, face pale. Mo Ran's eyes widened, and Shi Mei blushed. He
looked down, avoiding Mo Ran's gaze.

Mo Ran couldn't help the chuckle, face as warm as the first bloom of spring as he looked at Shi
Mei. Wetness gleamed in his eyes, belying the lazy smile in his voice. "I'm glad. I think you're
really great, too. I said it to you at the lake, but you don't remember it, so I'll tell you again. You're
really, really likeable." Despite Mo Ran not explicitly confessing lust, Shi Mei blushed all the way
to his neck, and Mo Ran stared at him with eyes as bright as an ocean full of stars. "I want to treat
you right and make you happy," he said.

Shi Mei knew exactly what Mo Ran was getting at, and he lowered his head. Mo Ran reached out
to stroke his hair, but a flash of sharp golden light struck him on the face. Mo Ran turned in shock
to see his teacher staring coldly at them from in front of the walls. His robes were paler than snow
and one hand was behind his back. Heavenly Questions coiled on the ground, willow leaves
rustling.

"Sir," Shi Mei said, startled.

"Sir," Mo Ran echoed, hand cupping his injured cheek.

Chu Wanning didn't care if he was disliked, or even loathed - it couldn't make him cry, so he
would deliver a beating instead. Expression frosty and voice frozen over, he snarled at his students.
"Slacking off from training? Mo Weiyu, do you think receiving the last holy weapon makes you
impressive? Invincible? What hubris."

"Sir, I was just," Mo Ran started to protest.

Chu Wanning glared until Mo Ran quieted. "Shi Mingjing, spar with me," he said. "Mo Weiyu, go
practice," he added resentfully. "If you can't hold me off for ten moves later, your punishment will
be to copy the book of meditation techniques three hundred times. Go."

Mo Ran felt privately that practicing was pointless, and he should start copying immediately.

parody or not, hurting your alleged beloved to try to force a love confession that he doesn't
mean or isn't ready to give is gross AF, as is Chu Wanning’s I Won’t Cry Because I’m Sad
I’ll Just Beat The Shit Out Of You Instead
 Book 1, Part 5: Different Paths - The Feathered Tribe

Chu Wanning spent the next three days even more sullen than usual, temper worse and resentment
writ large across his face. Disciples scattered like chickens at the mere sight of his murderous aura,
and even Xue Zhengyong dared not approach him. Despite his refusal to admit his feelings for Mo
Ran, the murderous rage that had flared up at the sight of his two disciples acting affectionate with
each other left a sour feeling in his chest.

Disgust at his disciples and himself filled Chu Wanning; he had no relationship with Mo Ran aside
from teacher and student, and he had no right to interfere in his disciple’s love life. He found that
he had been unbearably petty, to break them apart. Whatever desire he felt for Mo Ran was
irrelevant, shackled beneath his pride and self-restraint so that no one would ever know of his
unsightly affection. The brocade pouch with two locks of hair would be the only testament to the
love they would never have.

I am on the floor howling with laughter, that is a brilliant passage

Chu Wanning would never admit that he had saved Mo Ran at the bottom of the lake, enduring
searing agony. Neither would he admit to his feeling of jealousy. For months, he tried to avoid Mo
Ran, minimizing all interactions outside of training or practicing cultivation, until the end of the
year rapidly arrived.

JFC it just gets funnier as it skewers Badly Written Time Skips

Returning from a trip down the mountain to suppress monsters, Chu Wanning tugged his robes
closer for warmth as the snow began to fall. He walked briskly toward Loyalty Hall, where a hearty
fire waited, reflecting that he was weak against the cold. He was to report to Xue Zhengyong, but
his sect leader was nowhere to be found. Instead, the only person inside Loyalty Hall was Mo Ran.

Chu Wanning hadn’t been alone with his disciple in several months, and he felt awkward. That
Loyalty Hall was the setting of his wet dream made matters worse, as did the number of times he’d
had the dream since the first time. Each time, the dream had been clear and vivid. He’d struggled
at first, but then he’d gotten bored and let the dream version of Mo Ran just run his mouth.

The dream always ended abruptly at the critical moment, and Grandmaster Chu decided that his
pure and noble disposition meant even his fantasies remained above reproach to regain a fragment
of dignity for his fragile glass maiden’s heart. The combination of Mo Ran with Loyalty Hall,
however, put him on edge. Mo Ran, oblivious, grinned toothily.

fragile glass maiden’s heart, wow, I’m not sure about this incredible bit of misogyny; use of
the feminine in a derogatory manner for humor or any other purpose is also gross

“Sir, you’re back,” he said. “Are you looking for Uncle Xue? Aunt Wang’s feeling a little under
the weather, so he’s taking care of her. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“No need,” Chu Wanning said, and turned to leave.

“Sir, please wait,” Mo Ran called.

“What is it?” Chu Wanning turned back, surprised to feel Mo Ran’s hand brushing against his
brow. His fingers swept back and forth, as if it were natural.
“You’re covered in snow,” Mo Ran said, and Chu Wanning froze. He stood frozen as Mo Ran
fussed over him, dusting off the snow and patting his hair dry with a handkerchief.

Chu Wanning was weak to the cold, easily becoming ill with even the slightest exposure, but he
made no effort to avoid it. He had watched the fish in Mo Ran’s first life, unheeding of falling
snow. He’d been sick more often than not, particularly after the destruction of his spiritual core left
him frail enough to be bedridden for half a month every time he fell ill.

Mo Ran had acted on instinct, when he’d seen the snow, only belatedly realizing that his behavior
was too intimate. He looked up to see a pair of reticent phoenix eyes glaring at him, and withdrew
sheepishly. “I’ve overstepped my bounds,” he said. “You don’t need me to do this for you.”

Relieved, Chu Wanning was silent for a pointed moment before taking the handkerchief. The
dream was only a dream, after all, and his disciple was nothing like the man he dreamed of. He
removed his cape and warmed his hands by the fire before drying the snowmelt from his hair.
“When did you learn about boundaries?” he asked. “You’ve never cared about them before.” Chu
Wanning tucked the handkerchief away absently, then glanced at his disciple.

“I’m helping organize a year’s worth of files,” Mo Ran said.

“That’s Shi Mingjing’s job,” Chu Wanning interrupted.

“Sir, your memory is impressive,” Mo Ran offered.

“Where is he?” Chu Wanning demanded, unmoved by flattery.

“He had a headache this morning,” Mo Ran said. Seeing the look in Chu Wanning’s eyes, he
hurriedly continued. “He was feverish and I told him to get some rest. It’s not his fault.”

Mo Ran’s concern for his beloved pricked at Chu Wanning like a sharp needle. He drew his brows
together in a frown. “Is he all right?”

“I gave him medicine and waited for him to fall asleep,” Mo Ran said, relieved to avoid a scolding.
“It’s just a cold. He’ll be okay in a few days. Thank you for your concern, sir.”

“Who said I was concerned,” Chu Wanning retorted. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

As Sisheng Peak forbid its disciples from doing another’s duties, Mo Ran had been sure he was
about to be punished. He was dumbstruck to have been let off so easily, unable to act until Chu
Wanning was nearly out of sight. “Sir!” he called, picking up an umbrella. “Sir, wait!” Chu
Wanning turned around as Mo Ran skidded to a halt in front of him and opened the umbrella. “It’s
really snowing hard,” he said. “Take this.”

Chu Wanning refused. “No need.” He felt only irritation at Mo Ran’s attempt to hand it over, and
the umbrella was blown away in the struggle. He looked at it, several feet away in the snow, and
wanted nothing more than to just leave it there. He had, however, reached the end of his rope. “Mo
Weiyu,” he snapped. “Stop fucking around. I’m not Shi Mingjing. I don’t need someone else to
take care of me.”

Golden light gathered in his hand, and Mo Ran flinched away from what he thought would be
Heavenly Questions. Instead of coalescing into a willow branch, the light spread into a barrier
blocking the snow and the wind. Chu Wanning’s expression was frigid.

“Do I look like I need an umbrella?” he snarled, apparently truly angry. The barrier shifted colors,
gold to red, purple, blue, and finally green. Each barrier had a different effect, blocking only snow
or only wind, or keeping its interior warm, and each was a powerful technique in its own right. The
display of power was so sulkily ostentatious that Mo Ran was rendered speechless.

“Sir, don’t be angry,” he said, finally.

“I’m not angry!” Chu Wanning snarled, face pale with anger. “Get lost!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Mo Ran glanced at the barrier. “Uh, don’t waste your energy.”

“I said go!” The energy in the barrier shrank into a lightning bolt and struck the ground at Mo
Ran’s feet.

Nearly getting struck by lightning in return for showing concern out of the kindness of his heart
sparked resentment in Mo Ran. He looked up to snap back, but his teacher’s eyes were red-rimmed
in his pale face. “You,” Mo Ran started, startled.

“You and I are master and disciple,” Chu Wanning hissed. “Nothing more. There’s no need for
unnecessary concern. Take your umbrella and get lost.”

“Sir,” Mo Ran said, epiphany slamming him in the face. “Did you hear me and Shi Mei talking
that day?”

Chu Wanning turned wordlessly, and Mo Ran let him leave. A few steps away, Chu Wanning
sneezed. His steps faltered for a brief moment, then sped up as if he were fleeing. Mo Ran stared at
his back until it disappeared, lost in thought.

By the time he reached the Red Lotus Pavilion, Chu Wanning knew he was ill. He found the use of
barriers to ward off rain and snow, thus preventing illness and allowing him to function at full
capacity and perform his duties, to be a waste of energy. His sneezes were rapidly followed by
headache and fever, and he took his usual medicine before going to bed to sleep it off.

The nausea that had come and gone since Jincheng Lake was particularly unpleasant that night,
and he felt as though he were burning in a furnace while drenched in cold sweat. He didn’t wake
until noon, and it took him several minutes to gather the will to crawl out of bed. When he went to
put on his shoes, he frowned. They had gotten bigger.

The truth was more than even the vaunted Constellation Saint’s composure could handle; he stared
blankly at his body and the perfectly-fitted robe that had somehow slid off his shoulder. He had
gotten smaller.

------

A crabapple blossom floated over to Xue Zhengyong, practicing his sword at the northern peak. He
caught it, pulling the golden orb of light out of its center and placing it in his ear. “Constellation’s
messenger crabapple,” he muttered. “Lazy bastard, can’t even be bothered to come over here.”

“Sect Leader,” came the unfamiliar voice of a child. “Please come to the Red Lotus Pavilion.”

Xue Zhengyong went. He stepped off his sword in front of Chu Wanning’s residence to see a child
aged no more than five or six in the pavilion, hand behind his back, wearing a frosty expression
with icy eyes to match. Chu Wanning’s robes were draped around him, dragging on the ground like
a fish with a huge sweeping tail. His expression wordlessly promised death in the face of laughter.

Xue Zhengyong cackled loudly.

“Why are you laughing?” The child slapped the table angrily. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m not laugh- oh, I can’t!” Xue Zhengyong roared with mirth. “Constellation, I told you to get
that wound checked out, but you just wouldn’t listen.” He held his stomach with both hands,
laughter punctuating every word. “I’ve never seen a kid with such a murderous aura.”

At least, Chu Wanning reflected while Xue Zhengyong went to fetch him an appropriately-sized
uniform, he hadn’t lost his spiritual power when whatever curse was now afflicting him had
reverted his body to its childish form. The new-fitting clothes, although a disciple’s uniform,
looked less ridiculous. He straightened out the silver-trimmed hand guards, and glared at Xue
Zhengyong. “I will murder you if you tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Xue Zhengyong laughed. “But how are you going to fix it? I don’t know about healing,
I can’t do it. I can ask Elder Tanlang to come over.”

Chu Wanning tried to sweep his sleeves dramatically, but the disciple’s uniform was tight around
the limbs, and it didn’t produce the same effect. “Come over and do what? Laugh?”

“I could ask my wife,” Xue Zhengyong offered. Chu Wanning pressed his lips together in
indignation. “So that’s a yes.” The sight of Chu Wanning turning his back, looking like nothing so
much as a small child throwing a temper tantrum, sent Xue Zhengyong over the edge again, and he
howled in laughter.

Heavenly Questions flickered into sight, Chu Wanning glaring over his shoulder. “I dare you to
laugh again!”

“Okay, okay,” Xue Zhengyong said, barely managing to keep himself under control until he left.
“I’ll be right back.” He returned with a worried Madam Wang in tow.

“Constellation Saint,” she said faintly, but she was as kind and compassionate as her husband was
tactless. After performing an assessment, she came to a conclusion. “Your qi is fine, and your body
is in good shape for its age.”

“Do you know how to break the curse?” Chu Wanning asked.

Madam Wang shook her head. “There is no other known case of this ailment,” she said. “I don’t
know how to treat it.” At Chu Wanning’s look of stunned disappointment, she hurried to add,
“Constellation Saint, the willow vines likely contained a self-healing secretion that got into your
wound, and it’s not a curse. I don’t think very much of it was in there, or it would have affected
you sooner, and I think it’s only affected you now due to overwork. Rest for a few days, and see if
that helps.”

“There’s nothing else for it,” Chu Wanning said with a sigh. “Thank you, Madam.”

“You’re welcome.” She looked him over again. “I don’t think anyone will recognize you,” she
added.

Chu Wanning looked at his reflection in the pond, and thought that she was probably right. He
turned to Xue Zhengyong with some relief. “Sect Leader, I will maintain seclusion in the Red
Lotus Pavilion for a few days. Please take care of my disciples.”

“Of course, of course,” the sect leader said. “Ran is my nephew, Meng is my son, and Shi Mei is a
disciple here.” He grinned. “You just worry about yourself.”

Three days of rest and meditation did nothing to return Chu Wanning’s body to normal, and he
grew more and more anxious. Completely unable to rest and relax as instructed, he decided to take
a stroll down the mountain one evening after dinner. As it was before evening classes, the paths
and corridors were crowded with disciples, none of whom paid him any attention. He strolled
leisurely to the bamboo forest near the Platform of Sin and Virtue, his favorite practice area for
training his disciples.

The tranquil rustling of bamboo leaves filled the air. Chu Wanning plucked a leaf and blew a
melody on it to soothe his agitated mind, but he was interrupted by Xue Meng’s rude voice. He
looked up to see his disciple’s long legs and slim waist set off by his glistening blade against the
backdrop of the bamboo forest. “Hey, kid,” he said. “I’m going to practice here. Go blow your leaf
somewhere else.”

It felt odd to have his disciple try to boss him around. Chu Wanning regarded him steadily. “I’ll
stay here with my leaf. It won’t interfere with your practice.”

“No,” Xue Meng said. “You might get hurt.”

“No, I won’t.”

Xue Meng clicked his tongue. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said impatiently. “It’s not my fault
if you end up injured.” He unsheathed his sword with the powerful sound of a serpent emerging
from the depths of a lagoon to soar into the skies. It became a dancing shadow in his hand, a
brilliant trail flying in its wake. A single slice separated a leaf into ten pieces and shook further
leaves loose, each motion as smooth as the glide of snow in wind.

With the knowledge that even a mature cultivator would be impressed by his display, Xue Meng
expected the child to be stunned. He was shocked to see the small figure just sitting on his rock as
if nothing interesting was happening in front of him. Irritated, he sheathed his blade and leapt down
from the tops of the bamboo trees.

“Hey,” he said, but the child ignored him. “Kid, I’m talking to you.”

The child lowered the leaf and slowly opened his eyes. “What? Did your master not teach you to be
courteous when speaking to others? I have a name, you know.”

“Why do I care about your name?” Xue Meng scoffed. “Blades don’t have eyes. Scram before
mine cuts off your head.”

“If you can’t avoid my head, is there any point to you practicing at all?”

“You!” Xue Meng thought he’d never been so insulted by his life, particularly not by a novice who
didn’t know his place. “Do you even know who I am, you impudent child?”

“Who are you?” the child said mildly.

“I am the heir to Sisheng Peak,” Xue Meng snapped indignantly. “How could you not know?”

The child quirked his lips upward; it would have been a mocking expression on Chu Wanning’s
adult face, but its effect was multiplied a thousandfold on his currently youthful features. “You’re
just the heir,” he said. “It’s not like you’re the sect master. Why would I know you?”

“What did you just say?”

“Quit putting on airs and practice your sword.” The child went back to his leaf, slow melody
wafting in the breeze.
Infuriated, Xue Meng still couldn’t bring himself to hit a child. He leapt up to hack ruthlessly at the
bamboo forest, carving wide swathes of destruction with his swift and vicious blade. He sliced
dozens of bamboo spears with blunt points, sending them streaking toward the child; an enemy
would have received razor-sharp points aimed at their hearts, but the junior disciple only needed
blunt points scattered around his feet. He miscalculated slightly, and rushed downward to knock
the child out of the way.

To Xue Meng’s great surprise, the child flicked his fingers before the spears reached him. The
bamboo leaf in his hand morphed into hundreds of fine threads, each of which struck a falling
spike with stunning precision. He stood up as the spikes around him disintegrated to powder. Xue
Meng stumbled to a halt, frozen in shock, face both pale and red.

ok this whole bit has fallen flat as far as the humor goes, what with being predictable and
pedestrian and honestly the most boring direction possible for the concept of Child Chu
Wanning Meets Xue Meng

“You wanna go again?” the kid asked. “You have the right energy, but it’s erratic and unsteady.”
Xue Meng opened his mouth and closed it again. “Start over from the sparrow form,” the child
continued. “Go through each segment in time with my tune.”

Receiving instruction from a small child was humiliating, and Xue Meng stood still. Chu Wanning
waited to see if he could overcome his pride for the sake of improvement, but Xue Meng
disappointed him by suddenly stomping his foot, flinging down his sword, and turning to leave. It
was a pity, Chu Wanning thought, that his disciple was so close-minded and stubborn.

okay, that’s a good line, poking fun at Chu Wanning’s lack of self-awareness

Xue Meng picked up a branch, surprising him, and said, “I’m going to practice with a branch, then,
so I don’t hurt you accidentally.”

“Okay,” Chu Wanning said with a smile.

Further surprising him, Xue Meng plucked a fresh leaf and wiped it clean before handing it over.
“For you, little brother,” he said.

Chu Wanning threw him a glance, amused at being called little brother, and settled back on the
rock with his new leaf. Xue Meng’s rash personality led him to attempt flashy moves; one that he
hadn’t ever gotten quite right involved a mid-air turn followed by six stabs and a strike. He now
failed it several times in a row, growing more frustrated each time. The child sitting on his rock
was the very image of composure, and Xue Meng felt a hint of shame at his lack of complaint.

Rallying his spirits, Xue Meng kept working. He slowly got closer to matching the melody’s
rhythm, trying until the moon hung high in the sky and the sun had long past slipped below the
horizon. He had finally mastered the maneuver, and he wiped the sweat off his brow. “I couldn’t
have done this without you,” he said happily. “Whose disciple are you? You’re pretty amazing, and
I should know who you are.”

“Elder Xuanji is my master,” Chu Wanning said, having considered the answer ahead of time;
Xuanji had so many disciples, no one could keep track of them all.

“The Rubbish King, huh?” Xue Meng said.

“What?”
“Oh, sorry.” Xue Meng misunderstood the surprised tone. “It’s just a nickname, not an insult. Your
teacher accepts everyone. Rubbish refers to his talentless disciples, not your master, and not you.”

“Does every elder have a private nickname?” Chu Wanning asked.

------

"Of course they get nicknames," Xue Meng said, in a good mood and eager to help the new
disciple. "You look pretty young. You're what, five? You must be new. Once you've settled in,
you'll see the disciples have nicknames for all of the elders."

"Oh. Like what?" Chu Wanning asked, expression indecipherable.

"Where do I even start?" Xue Meng laughed. "It's late and I'm hungry - why don't I get you a snack
as a thank you? We can talk over food."

"Sure," Chu Wanning said with a smile, after a moment's thought.

Putting away his sword, Xue Meng took the child's hand. The oblivious disciple walked with his
master toward the main gate. "What's your name, little brother?"

"Terri," Chu Wanning answered calmly.

"Terri what?"

“Terri Fying.”

Xue Meng completely missed the joke. “That’s a nice name,” he said. “How old are you? Was I
right?”

“Close,” said Chu Wanning, his expression terrifying enough that Xue Meng would have died of
fright had he been looking at the child instead of the road. “I’m six this year.”

“You’re amazingly talented,” Xue Meng said. “Not quite as clever as I was at your age, but you’ll
grow up to be outstanding. Hey,” he added. “If you ask nicely, I’ll see if my master will take you
on instead of Elder Xuanji.”

“Nicely,” said Chu Wanning flatly.

“Yes,” Xue Meng said, flicking him in the forehead. “This is a rare opportunity, you know.” He
laughed at Chu Wanning’s complicated expression. “Speechless with joy?”

A voice from behind them interrupted the conversation Xue Meng was enjoying so much before it
could lead to his untimely demise at the hands of a small child. “Mengmeng, what are you doing
here?”

“Mo Ran, you asshole,” Xue Meng said, correctly surmising that there was only one person at
Sisheng Peak with the balls to use that nickname. “Call me that again, and I will rip out your
tongue.”

Mo Ran grinned easily, clothes fluttering under the clear moonlight, until he noticed the dainty
child holding hands with his fellow disciple. “Who the hell,” he said.

“None of your business,” Xue Meng said, pulling the child protectively behind him.

“No, no, no, don’t hide him,” Mo Ran protested, and snuck behind Xue Meng to extract the child.
“Hey, you look familiar,” he said. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

Chu Wanning was displeased and afraid; he would never be able to face anyone ever again if they
knew. He turned to run.

“Hold it!” Mo Ran said, and grabbed him with a mischievous grin. “Tell me your name.” Chu
Wanning, afraid of being recognized, kept trying to back away. Mo Ran assumed he was simply
shy, and laughed. “Don’t hide,” he said. “Is your last name Xue?” Mo Ran pointed at Xue Meng.
“Is he your papa? If you tell me the truth, I’ll buy you candy.”

“Mo Weiyu, what is wrong with you?” Xue Meng snapped, face red. “What the fuck do you think
you’re implying?”

Chu Wanning was no less surprised, but he was also relieved. “My name is Terri,” he said. “Elder
Xuanji’s disciple. Terri Fying.”

“Terrifying?” Mo Ran laughed, catching on immediately. “How cute are you.”

Xue Meng shoved Mo Ran away. “He’s my new friend, go away. We’re going for a snack.”

“Fine, fine.” Mo Ran moved aside to let them pass, falling into step beside them with a grin and a
swagger.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry, too.”

Xue Meng grumbled, but decided it wasn’t worth the argument and led the way to Wuchang Town.
Once infested with ghosts and ghouls, it had regained its peace after Sisheng Peak had been
founded nearby. The night market was lively when they arrived, many stalls open for business. The
disciples chose a stall selling hotpot, and sat in its outdoor area.

Hotpot was so named for both the spiciness of the broth in which one dipped the fresh, raw
ingredients and for the fact that the broth needed to be boiling to cook each ingredient as it was
dipped in. ChuanShu Province was known for its hotpot, but Chu Wanning only ate it with clear
broth, as he couldn’t handle spicy food. Xue Meng and Mo Ran, on the other hand, had grown up
in the area and loved spicy food; assuming their new friend could also handle it was perfectly
reasonable.

When Xue Meng ordered extra peppers and chili oil, the child tugged on his sleeve and asked for
his own pot of mild broth. “You want what?” Xue Meng thought he must have misheard. At Chu
Wanning’s face, he nodded. “Not from around here?”

“No.”

“I see, I see. Rough, to leave home so young.” He sighed and turned to the waiter. “Okay, an extra
pot of broth.”

Chu Wanning couldn’t help but notice that Xue Meng seemed reluctant, and his impression was
borne out. “Disciple, when in ChuanShu, you have to fit in. Learn to eat spicy foods. How are you
going to get along with people if you don’t eat the same food? Even if you don’t know the dialect,
food is a universal language.” He paused. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Lin'an.”
“Ah.” Xue Meng mulled it over, but he knew very little of the area. “Do you guys eat rabbit heads
there?”

“Of course not,” Mo Ran interrupted. Both Xue Meng and Chu Wanning glared at him as he sat
with a foot up on the wooden bench and his arm propped on his knee. He grinned and tilted his
head. “What? They don’t.”

“Is that true?” Xue Meng asked.

“It is.”

Xue Meng glared at his compatriot. “How did you know? You ever been there?”

“Nope.” Mo Ran grimaced. “But little brother Terri here and our teacher are from the same place
and you know he doesn’t eat rabbit head. He eats tofu with scallion or sweet osmanthus lotus root.
Look for yourself next time.”

“I guess I never really paid attention,” Xue Meng said. “I’m too nervous since that one time I saw
him eat breakfast.” He rubbed his chin with distaste. “He has terrible taste. He likes savory tofu
pudding.” Turning to the child, he said with the utmost sincerity, “Do not mimic the Constellation
Saint, or no one will want to eat with you. Rabbit head and spicy foods are both mandatory. When
you have tofu pudding for breakfast, do not eat it with savory sauce.”

“Or seaweed,” Mo Ran added helpfully. “And dried shrimp.”

“Oh yes,” Xue Meng agreed. “Absolutely unacceptable.”

Chu Wanning expressionlessly watched his two disciples in a rare instance of uniting against a
common enemy, rescued from the conversation by the arrival of their dinner. Each dish was
perfectly cooked and it was complemented by a jar of freshly made soy milk. The little table
creaked under the weight of the food, and even Xue Meng and Mo Ran were more relaxed with
each other after they had made significant inroads into it.

“Where’s the brain I put in here?” Xue Meng complained, swirling his chopsticks around the broth.

“In your head,” Mo Ran said.

“The pig brain!”

Mo Ran bit his chopsticks with an impish grin. “That’s the one.”

“You asshole!”

“Hey, there’s your brain! Time to eat!”

Xue Meng walked right into the trap. “Stay away from my brain!”

Chu Wanning sat on his stool, leisurely drinking his sweet soy milk and watching his disciples
bicker. Neither of them were after his pot of mild broth, leaving him relaxed. He licked his lips as
if still hungry.

“Do you like it, little disciple?” Mo Ran asked, smiling.

“It’s not bad,” Chu Wanning said, after calculating that his chances of avoiding his disciples
calling him little were less than zero.
“Another jar of soy milk for my little disciple here,” Mo Ran called to the waiter.

Chu Wanning thoroughly enjoyed his second jar of sweet soy milk; he’d always loved candy, but
overindulging had given him a cavity, and he’d refrained from overindulging in order to protect his
pride. Being a child meant that he could eat what he wanted. Mo Ran watched him, cheek propped
against his hand.

“You like exactly the same food as our teacher,” he said.

“The Constellation Saint?” Chu Wanning asked, maintaining composure.

“Yep,” Mo Ran said, smiling. He pushed a basket toward the child. “Try this.”

The steamer held buns full of sweet bean paste. Chu Wanning ate with enthusiasm, and Mo Ran
smiled as he encouraged him to have another. The conversation continued until Chu Wanning had
eaten his fourth bun and suddenly remembered Xue Meng’s earlier revelation.

“By the way,” he said, “earlier you said every elder has a nickname. What’s Constellation Saint’s
nickname?”

------

“Oh, he doesn’t have one,” Xue Meng said seriously. “No one would dare.”

“Bullshit,” Mo Ran interrupted. “Everyone knows you like him, so they don’t tell you.” He rolled
his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Constellation Saint has more nicknames than anyone else on Sisheng
Peak.”

“Oh?” For once, the child looked interested.

“One of the nice ones is white-clothed ghost.”

“What for?”

“Because all he wears is white.”

“What else?”

“Little napa cabbage.”

“What for?”

“Because all he wears is white.”

“What else,” Chu Wanning asked, beginning to get suspicious.

“Big buns.”

“Why?”

“Because all he wears is white.”

“Is there another one?”

“Little widow. Do you know why?” Mo Ran was laughing hysterically, unaware of the murderous
aura flashing in the child’s eyes. “Because all he wears is white.”
Mo Ran had no idea how lucky he was that one of his teacher’s specialties was never losing his
temper. “Is there another one?” the child asked.

I cannot believe she spent a hundred thousand words setting up that Chu Wanning loses his
temper at the slightest provocation just to set up this one-line pointless joke with zero
significance to any part of the plot, oh my fucking god

“If I tell you any more,” Mo Ran said, looking at his cousin, “Mengmeng here might pour the
hotpot on my head.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Xue Meng snapped, hitting the table. “Who let them do that? Napa cabbage?
Big buns? Little widow? Do they have a death wish?”

“Man,” Mo Ran said, still laughing. “I can’t believe that got to you so much. Wait until you hear
what the girls call him.”

“Oh, no.” Xue Meng’s eyes widened. “What?”

“What else?” Mo Ran drawled. “They’re girls. Pear blossoms under the pale moon or spring
snows, lotus blossom beauty. God.” His audience reacted with silence. “I mean, it could be worse,”
Mo Ran said. “Like Elder Tanlang and his terrible temper but no pretty face to go with it.”

The misogyny is not actually funny

The child perked up; he had the worst relationship with Elder Tanlang of all twenty of Sisheng
Peak’s elders. “What do they call him?” he asked.

“Wintertime pickles,” Mo Ran said, laughing. “Or mustard greens. Because his skin is dark.
Mengmeng, don’t look at me like that, you have nicknames, too.”

wow the racism is also not funny

“I what,” Xue Meng said, looking as if he’d bitten a lemon. Mo Ran just grinned. “Well, what are
they?” Xue Meng demanded.

“Fanny,” Mo Ran said promptly.

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mo Ran couldn’t keep anything resembling a straight face. “You’re like a
peacock fanning its tail feathers.”

“Mo Ran!” Xue Meng howled, bounding to his feet. “I’ll kill you!”

It was past midnight by the time they finished their meal. Chu Wanning’s two idiot disciples sent
him off to Elder Xuanji’s quarters upon their return to Sisheng Peak, and he awkwardly avoided
making concrete plans to meet Xue Meng the next day.

“If I have time,” he said. Only when the disciples had gotten far enough away did he leap lightly
up to the roof and make his way back to the Red Lotus Pavilion.

Finding himself still stuck in a child’s body was more dispiriting the following morning, after he
had spent such an enjoyable evening. Chu Wanning stepped on a wooden stool and stared at the
person in the mirror, lacking the motivation to even comb his hair properly. He went to Xue
Zhengyong in despair.
“You saw Meng and Ran yesterday?”

“I said Elder Xuanji was my master. They bought it,” Chu Wanning explained. “Please cover for
me if Xue Meng comes to ask. But more importantly, I’ve cultivated for ten days and nothing has
changed. I’m going to have to ask for Elder Tanlang’s help after all.”

“Oho,” Xue Zhengyong said. “Suddenly less worried about our reputation, are we?” Chu Wanning
glared coldly, but his features made it less imposing and more like a child having a tantrum, Xue
Zhengyong thought, and he was an adorable child, besides. He reached out to pat the boy’s head.

“Sect Leader,” Chu Wanning said suddenly. “When I get my body back, could you ask HuanSha
Hall to tailor me a set of Sisheng Peak robes? Not in white.”

“I thought you didn’t like light armor,” Xue Zhengyong said, surprised.

“Sometimes change is good,” Chu Wanning said darkly, and left.

Elder Tanlang, despite his chilly relationship with Chu Wanning, tried to hide his distaste in front
of the sect leader. While he didn’t sneer openly, he failed to conceal his thoughts. Chu Wanning
regarded his gleeful eyes expressionlessly as Elder Tanlang took his pulse.

“Madam Wang’s diagnosis was essentially correct.” The elder let go, and Chu Wanning yanked his
hand away.

“Then why didn’t I get better?”

“Although you only received a small amount of sap from the ancient willow, its effects are quite
potent. It may take a long time to return you to your previous form.”

“How long?” Chu Wanning asked casually.

“It could take as long as ten years,” Elder Tanlang said, nearly losing his composure at Chu
Wanning’s suddenly widening eyes. Voice brimming with glee, he continued, “Yes, ten years. I’m
sure of it.”

“Are you playing a joke on me?” Chu Wanning asked gloomily.

“Perish the thought,” Elder Tanlang said, smiling. “I wouldn’t dare mislead the great Constellation
Saint. I wouldn’t worry too much – your body is perfectly healthy, just smaller, your mentality is
slightly younger, and your cultivation is unaffected.”

Ashen-faced, Chu Wanning could only stare.

“However,” Tanlang continued, “you may not stay in the child’s body. This type of tree sap
migrates along the same paths as your qi. If you avoid using them for three to five months, you
should regain your original form.”

“That’s perfect!” Xue Zhengyong’s face lit up.

“Not quite, Sect Leader,” Elder Tanlang said. “Even after he regains his adult body, he won’t be
able to overuse his techniques or he’ll revert to the child’s body.”

“What counts as overuse?”

“Since the sap has spread through his entire body, two moves a day at most.”
“The boundary to the ghost realm develops breaches that need constant repair. Forging constructs
uses qi. If I’m limited to two moves a day, I’m useless.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Elder Tanlang asked. “The Holy Grace Immortal is the one
who got himself poisoned.”

“Cut it out, Tanlang,” Xue Zhengyong fretted. “You’re one of the best medical cultivators in the
world. Surely you can come up with a solution. Constellation Saint isn’t as effective in a child’s
body, which leaves us vulnerable to other sects.”

“Sect Leader,” Tanlang sneered. “The sap Holy Grace Immortal infected himself with is from an
ancient spiritual tree. I can’t come up with a solution off the top of my head.” He swept toward the
door. “I have to extract medication for pills. Please see yourselves out.”

“Tanlang!” Xue Zhengyong snapped. Chu Wanning tugged at the hem of his robes.

“Sect Leader, let’s go.”

“Chu Wanning,” Tanlang Elder called from the back room. “If you’re willing to beg me with the
appropriate level of humility, I might be willing to look for a cure for you. I haven’t seen your
condition before, true, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to figure something out.”

“What counts as appropriately humble?” Chu Wanning asked over his shoulder.

Tanlang sorted bundles of silver needles, lazily reclined on the couch. “Others get on their knees to
beg for help, when they’re desperate enough,” he said disdainfully. “I wouldn’t ask your face to
touch the floor, as we’re colleagues. Your knees are enough.”

“Wintertime Pickles,” Chu Wanning said, with an indifferent look, “you must be dreaming.” He
flicked his tight-fitting sleeves and left, leaving Tanlang in consternation and confusion.

The days passed slowly. Chu Wanning explained his absence by publishing a declaration that he
would be going into seclusion to meditate, and Elder Xuanji was informed of the true identity of
his alleged new disciple. A few months passed in the blink of an eye, and the Constellation Saint’s
disciples slowly became more and more worried that none of them had seen their teacher.

“More than seventy days,” Xue Meng said. “Why hasn’t he come out?”

“Maybe he’s refining his cultivation level,” Shi Mei said, sipping spiritual mountain dew and
looking at the overcast skies. “It’s going to snow, and soon it will be the new year. Maybe we’ll
see him before then.”

Flipping lazily through a manual of sword techniques, Mo Ran shook his head. “No, he sent us that
message via crabapple blossom that it would still be a while.”

The three disciples had gathered on their rest day to enjoy freshly brewed tea and warmed wine in a
small pavilion in the yard, its bamboo curtains half drawn. Xue Meng, having taken quite the shine
to Elder Xuanji’s new disciple Terri Fying, had dragged his new playmate over to join them. Mo
Ran reflected that it had become a common occurrence since their teacher had gone into seclusion.
The child ate with mannered poise, but the pastries in front of him nonetheless vanished rapidly.

“Little disciple, you are a bottomless pit,” Xue Meng announced, watching the pastries disappear.

Chu Wanning ignored him entirely in favor of defending his last piece of crispy lotus pastry from
Mo Ran’s greedy hands; lightning crackled between their gazes. “Let go,” Chu Wanning said.
“You’ve had eight,” Mo Ran retorted. “This one is mine.”

“You can eat anything you want, just not the lotus pastry.”

“If you eat too many sweets, you’ll end up with cavities,” Mo Ran said with the air of someone
using his secret weapon.

“I’m six,” Chu Wanning said. “It wouldn’t embarrass me at all.”

“Mo Weiyu,” Xue Meng said, slapping his hand on the table. “Stop fighting children for food.”

Chu Wanning grabbed the pastry as Mo Ran instinctively flinched, hands as quick as his face was
expressionless. He was feeling quite satisfied with himself when a sharp whistling sound pierced
the skies. His face fell. “The gathering whistle?”

Xue Meng lifted the curtains to look out the window, seeing other disciples outside also look
around with expressions of surprise. Use of the gathering whistle could only mean an emergency
situation, most often a breach of the ghost barrier in the days before Chu Wanning joined the sect.
Since the Constellation Saint had begun maintaining the barriers, the whistle had gone unused.

“What’s going on?” Shi Mei put down his book.

“No point in asking,” Xue Meng said. “Let’s go see.”

Mo Ran remained silent, having foreknowledge of what had prompted this particular instance of
the gathering whistle. The timing was off, he knew, much as it had been with other events. He
followed his fellow disciples to Loyalty Square, lining up as instructed.

As the final ranks filled out, Xue Zhengyong emerged from Loyalty Hall, standing on the platform
above them. Six beautiful women followed, all impossibly gorgeous and dressed only in thin
muslin robes despite the bitterly cold weather. Their red skirts mirrored the clouds at dawn, and
their eyes seemed lit with scarlet flame. A crimson blaze marked the space between each woman’s
eyebrows.

“Envoys of the feathered tribe,” Xue Meng finally said, voice trembling. “Did they come from
Phoenix, the land of immortals?”

------

The residents of Phoenix, despite its name of Land of the Immortals, were not immortal but were of
mixed demon and human heritage. In the cultivation world, they most resembled true immortals
and were known as the feathered tribe. They lived in the hidden land of peace and prosperity called
Peach Blossom Spring beyond the maze of Mount JiuHua, rarely interacting with full humans.
Only in times of turmoil or disaster did they appear in the cultivation world to render aid to
mortals.

The feathered tribe had appeared to oppose Emperor Evil Overlord, but even they had been unable
to stand against his mastery of the three forbidden techniques and every one of them had been
slaughtered. Phoenix had been burned to ash within a single day. Remembering it later, Mo Ran
had broken out in a cold sweat and thought he must have been a man possessed by endless cruelty.
In his teenage body, Mo Ran knew he couldn’t contend with the feathered tribe – even most adult
cultivators fell short of their demonically acquired spiritual strength. In Sisheng Peak, only a few
elders could briefly hold their own in a match.

Catching sight of Mo Ran’s face, Xue Meng felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mo Ran whispered. “I just ran too fast.” He couldn’t explain that the arrival of the
feathered tribe had been the beginning of the events leading to Shi Mei’s death, or that it was
happening too soon. Why, he thought, was everything so different than before? The faint winter
sun hung weakly in the sky, its light washing the color out of the land below, and Mo Ran couldn’t
help reaching out for Shi Mei’s hand.

It was now Shi Mei’s turn to ask, “What’s wrong?” Mo Ran shook his head and said nothing.

when the story becomes plot-driven, it becomes intriguing beyond the realm of parody –
there are hints of A Story with potential – but the author, unfortunately, keeps trying to make
this a character-driven narrative. However, even taking into account that this is a parody of
a plethora of often poorly-executed tropes, the jokes of Chu Wanning’s Expressionless Purity
and Mo Ran’s fixation on Shi Mei rather than admitting his own feelings start to fall flat –
it’s getting to the point where it’s tedious rather than funny. This comes to mind now because
I’m actually interested in the changing timeline, and because the child-Chu-Wanning
narrative has been a lackluster slog.

“I have called you all here because envoys of the feathered tribe have arrived,” Xue Zhengyong
said. His words, at least, hadn’t changed from the speech Mo Ran remembered. “As they did
eighty years ago, they have left Peach Blossom Spring to assist the human world in a foretold
calamity.” He paused to look over the disciples gathered below. “The barrier to the ghost realm
was first created by the god Fuxi, but it has gradually eroded over the past million years. Breaches
began to show up, first a few decades apart, and now it grows weaker by the day. Despite all of our
efforts –“

Xue Meng snorted under his breath. “Despite Chu Wanning’s efforts,” he muttered.

“-the breach grows bigger still,” Xue Zhengyong continued. “The barrier will eventually break, as
it did decades ago. At that time, the human realm will be assaulted by thousands of ghosts and
spirits. The envoys of the feathered tribe have come to select those with the most suitable qi to
cultivate in seclusion in preparation for this calamity.”

The crowd broke out in a commotion, each disciple harboring secret hopes that he or she would be
selected to visit the famed Peach Blossom Spring and receive special training. Only Mo Ran felt
apprehension instead of excitement, so much so that he was unable to summon his usual ability to
dissemble. He knew that Shi Mei would be selected for the special training, and that a huge
breakdown with multiple breaches would occur not long after he returned. Shi Mei would fight
alongside Chu Wanning in the ensuing battle, each of them working one side of an array to seal the
largest point of failure.

The horde of ghosts and demons, correctly identifying Shi Mei as the weak point of the cultivators’
resistance, would converge upon him in a murderous last-ditch effort. They would kill him,
demonic energy piercing his heart and soul. Chu Wanning would do nothing to help as Shi Mei fell
from atop the coiled dragon pillar, instead continuing to work to seal the barrier.

ah, there it is, because of course The Heroic Chu Wanning can do Nothing Wrong

Snow had been falling that day, and Shi Mei’s falling form had resembled a small, insignificant
snowflake as it tumbled down. Shi Mei’s death had been no more impactful than the melting of
that snowflake, with only Mo Ran to care for him in the midst of the pandemonium. He had
watched Shi Mei’s breaths grow shallower, begging their teacher to save him, but Chu Wanning
had placed his pride and reputation and duty to seal the breach above his disciple’s life.

Mo Ran had remembered all of Chu Wanning’s favorite things in that moment – the sound of rain
in the lotus pond, the melancholic verses of the poet Du, his strict adherence to form. Mo Ran
remembered that he’d taught them to put their duty before their lives, and in the moment of Shi
Mei’s death, he’d found it laughable. Duty meant nothing to him as his beloved had died – what
did he care if commoners suffered and died while the breach remained open? Mo Ran had known
in that moment that Chu Wanning was a despicable hypocrite who spouted duty and compassion
while placing the lives of insignificant and meaningless commoners above his own disciple’s life.

Commoners and cultivators alike had adored Chu Wanning afterwards, no one but Mo Ran sparing
a thought for those who had perished. He had confronted his teacher, demanding to know if he
mourned for his disciple at all, demanding to know how Chu Wanning could preach putting duty
before self while he had survived and those under his command had died. “You never cared about
us at all,” he had spat.

The loss of an ungifted disciple had been the price Chu Wanning had paid for peace and
prosperity, and none faulted him for it. Only Mo Ran had seen that the brilliant crown of adoration
atop his head was made of the bones of the dead, and had hated him from the bottom of his heart.
Nothing would ever change that.

“Young disciple,” came a voice, warm hand on his forehead ripping him out of his black
memories. A delicate face filled his vision, bright and lovely, one of the envoys of the feathered
tribe smiling at him. “Such an opportunity, and you pay it no mind,” she teased gently.

“Ah, elder sister, please take no offense,” Mo Ran said, trying to cover his feelings with a smile.
“I’ve always been a daydreamer. I was so hoping to be selected that I was lost in imagining what
Peach Blossom Spring might be like.”

The envoys had begun to move through the crowd while Mo Ran had been lost in his memories,
but he’d failed to notice that they were choosing their disciples. The woman in front of him smiled
sweetly. “Your qi is pure. Your cultivation and aptitude are remarkable. Please join us in Peach
Blossom Spring.”

The world contracted around him as Mo Ran stared at her in shock. Only Chu Wanning and Shi
Mei had been chosen in his previous life, and this unexpected point of deviation left him unable to
speak. His stunned reaction was close enough to the amazement expected of one chosen to be a
disciple, and those around him only stared at him enviously. By the time he followed the envoy to
Loyalty Hall, Mo Ran had begun to feel elation – the differences between this life and the last
meant that Shi Mei might not be chosen to repair the fateful barrier breach.

Mo Ran didn’t know what had changed his fate, but if training at Peach Blossom Spring meant that
he could repair the barrier instead of Shi Mei, he wouldn’t question it. He had yet to learn the
meaning of altruism, but he would sacrifice body and soul for even a scrap of kindness from his
beloved. However, the lineup of selected disciples pierced Mo Ran’s bubble of hope – it was
completely different from what he remembered.

As a result of being in seclusion, Chu Wanning hadn’t been chosen. Shi Mei was among the ranks,
as was Elder Xuanji’s tiny disciple Terri Fying. Xue Meng, shockingly, had been invited to Peach
Blossom Spring as well – the envoy had apparently noted the lingering essence of the Exalted
Gouchen’s sacred sword.

The deep sound of a clock striking reverberated through Sisheng Peak, preceding the envoys’
announcement. “From Sisheng Peak of the Lower Cultivation Realm, the chosen are Xue Ziming,
Mo Weiyu, Shi Mingjing, and Terri Fying.” The envoy lifted her hand with a vividly colored
messenger myna bird perched on her fingertip. “These four are exceptional individuals, suitable in
aptitude and genuine in character. Over and out.”

The bird fluttered its powerful wings and vanished into the vast skies toward the coveted realm of
Peach Blossom Spring. No cultivator would refuse the great and rare honor of being chosen to
study techniques to maintain the barrier to the ghost realm, even though training could take
anywhere from a few months to a few years. However, understanding the importance of the timing,
the envoys informed their chosen group that they should wait to leave until after the new year
holiday.

Anticipating the trip to Peach Blossom Spring with Shi Mei, Mo Ran was overjoyed. It wasn’t long
before the happiness faded, but Mo Ran couldn’t figure out why until he glanced up to see the
sealed-off Red Lotus Pavilion. He slowed and then came to a stop, gazing up to where the
mountain disappeared into clouds. His teacher had been in seclusion for three months, and during
that time, Mo Ran had begun to feel his hatred ebbing away.

Remind himself though he would about the expression on his teacher’s face as he abandoned Shi
Mei to die, Mo Ran couldn’t help but feel a spark of empathy here or there. Terri Fying, walking
with him, tugged on his sleeve. “What is it?”

Yeah, the time for this revelation was forty thousand words ago. This is really poorly placed.

“Little disciple, do you think he’ll come out before we go?”

“He?”

“Ah.” Mo Ran paused and smiled at the child. He had come to feel that he was clever and sensible,
and begun to be quite fond of him after they had spent so much time together. “I was talking about
my teacher,” he said. “Constellation Saint.”

“I see,” said Terri Fying.

Mo Ran sighed. “He’s never been in seclusion this long before. I wonder if the injury he got at the
lake was more serious than we thought.”

Chu Wanning hadn’t heard him spontaneously bring up the topic of his teacher in a long time.
Expecting a negative answer, he still couldn’t help but ask, “Do you miss him?”

------

At first, Mo Ran couldn’t understand the question. Although Chu Wanning had done him dirty in
his past life, he hadn’t in this one. Mo Ran had been protected instead, over and over, while Chu
Wanning had been injured in his stead. After a long moment, he answered, “He’s been hurt so
many times because of me.”

The expression on his face brought a feeling of warmth to Chu Wanning’s heart. He opened his
mouth to reply, but Mo Ran wasn’t done talking.

“He’s done too much for me. I can only hope to help him recover a little faster, so I don’t owe him
so much.”

The flicker of warmth froze over, the cold spreading into Chu Wanning’s limbs. Of course, he
thought dully. The only relationship we have is teacher and student. He was the only one to blame
for his own feelings of disappointment, having dared to hope for more. He forced a smile,
knowing it likely wasn’t convincing. “You’re overthinking it,” he said. “You’re his disciple and
owe him nothing. What he does, he does willingly.”

Pfffffffffffhahahaha yes good we are back to the ludicrous ridiculousness of Chu Wanning’s
self-pity

“You’re so little, but you keep talking like a grown-up,” Mo Ran laughed, rubbing Terri Fying’s
head brightly.

Chu Wanning suffered it for a moment, but the smile fell off his face and his eyes began to fill with
tears. “Mo Ran,” he said to his beautiful disciple, “I’m done playing with you. Let go.”

Mo Ran, being socially inept, had failed to notice the change in his little friend’s expression. He
pinched Terri Fying’s cheeks and made a funny face. “Why are you so cranky this time?”

The reflection of a child’s face stared back at Chu Wanning from Mo Ran’s eyes, ugly smile
rendering him into a pathetic monster. “Let go,” he said.

Still oblivious, Mo Ran kept teasing him. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease you for talking so mature,” he
said. “Call me big brother and we’ll make up.”

“Let go of me.”

“Be good, call me big brother,” Mo Ran wheedled. “I’ll buy you osmanthus cake.”

Chu Wanning closed his eyes, lashes trembling. “Mo Ran, I’m not kidding,” he said hoarsely. “I
don’t want to play with you any more. Let go of me. Please.” He squeezed his eyes tighter, trying
to hold the tears in, but he couldn’t control his voice. “Mo Ran, please. It hurts.”

It hurt too much to love his disciple, and he had to hide that passion in the depths of his heart. Even
if Mo Ran didn’t love him, he could bear it as long as he could silently protect him, but seeing Mo
Ran reject him and only offer kindness to others tore at his heart with barbs and thorns. Every time
they interacted, his heart bled more, and Chu Wanning didn’t know how long he could bear the
terrible agony of having the feelings he never expressed rejected.

Finally noticing something wrong, Mo Ran hastily let go. Chu Wanning was suddenly grateful for
being in a child’s body; it was socially acceptable for him to express pain and be vulnerable, and
Mo Ran would look at him with concern. He could never have demeaned himself so as an adult.

Chu Wanning is so self-absorbed that he is sure this is All About Him and doesn’t consider
that Mo Ran has his own perspective. That he also actively chooses to hide how he feels,
actively chooses not to reach out to other people, actively gives off the impression that he
wants nothing to do with anyone else, and then sits there and whines Nobody Loves Me, oh
my fucking GOD. I mean, I assume this is the point of the parody, but seriously, it’s getting
mind-numbingly boring and edging into actively irritating at this point

New Year’s Eve arrived rapidly. The liveliest time of year on Sisheng Peak, it saw all the disciples
putting up red paper talismans and sweeping away snowdrifts. The head chef was busy from dawn
until dusk preparing delicacies for the year-end feast, and the elders had all prepared spells and
charms for their specialties to add to the festivities. Elder Tanlang transformed a pool of fresh water
into fragrant wine while Elder Xuanji released three thousand firelight mice to scatter around the
sect and spread light and warmth. Elder LuCun enchanted snowmen to run around screaming
Happy New Year.
No one expected the Constellation Saint to join in, as he was still in seclusion. Xue Meng stood by
the window watching a storm of crabapple blossoms flutter from the sky. “We’ll be gone
tomorrow. I guess we won’t see him after all. I wonder what our teacher’s doing right now.”

“Cultivating,” Mo Ran said through a mouthful of apple. “Speaking of which, all of the elders are
supposed to put on a performance. Suck that he’s not here and we can’t see him being forced to
join in.” He laughed. “I wonder what he could even do. Maybe a skit about how to get really pissed
off?”

“How about a tutorial on whipping Mo Weiyu to death?” Xue Meng countered, glaring.

The New Year holiday blunted Mo Ran’s habitual ire with his fellow disciple. “Have you seen our
little friend today?” he asked.

“Terri Fying?” Xue Meng thought for a moment. “No, but I mean, he’s Elder Xuanji’s disciple,
and the elder has graciously let him spend a lot of time with us already. We can’t expect him to
abandon his duties during the holiday.”

“I guess,” Mo Ran laughed.

The setting sun shone above Red Lotus Pavilion, and Chu Wanning carefully looked over the pill
in his hand. Xue Zhengyong sat across from him pouring a cup of tea. He snagged a crispy pastry
as well, neither of which had been offered. He grinned at the elder, cheerfully ignoring etiquette.
“Aren’t you done looking at it yet, Constellation? Tanlang can be pretty sarcastic, but he’s not ill-
intentioned. He wouldn’t deliberately hurt you.”

“What are you trying to imply, Sect Leader?” Chu Wanning asked lightly. “I was just thinking that
if Elder Tanlang could make one pill to give me my adult form for a day, then he could make
more. Then I can use them when I need them.”

“It’s not that easy,” Xue Zhengyong reminded him. “The raw materials for this are rare beyond
measure, and the three of them he’s already made have drained his supplies entirely. This is not a
feasible long-term plan.”

I love how it’s a waste of energy and resources to use his own energy to keep himself from
getting sick, but he’s absolutely willing to demand other people work hard to give him things
to make his life a little easier while he suffers the consequences of his own unwillingness to
make the effort to take care of himself

“I see,” Chu Wanning said. “In that case, please thank him for me.”

“You know,” Xue Zhengyong said, “you two are actually a lot alike. Cranky as hell but kind at
heart.” Chu Wanning glared at him before washing the pill down with a cup of tea and stealing the
last pastry from underneath the sect leader’s questing fingers.

The disciples filtered into Mengpo Hall at nightfall, one after another, as each elder shepherded
their disciples to knead dough and make dumplings. The enchanted snowmen and firelight mice
threaded through the crowd, passing jars of salt and red pepper powder and saucers of chopped
scallions. Each table bustled with excitement and laughter, with the exception of the Constellation
Saint’s table.

The three disciples present looked around, feeling the absence of their teacher. “I miss him,” Xue
Meng sighed.
“Didn’t he send us a letter telling us to have fun?” Shi Mei said. “To work hard at Peach Blossom
Spring and that he’ll come see us as soon as he can?”

“Yeah, but when is that?” Xue Meng sighed more heavily, eyes traveling listlessly past the open
door, when he suddenly sat bolt upright. His face paled and then flushed a dizzying shade of red,
eyes shining brightly. He was too excited to speak properly, stammering as he lifted a hand and
pointed.

Mo Ran assumed one of Elder Xuanji’s rare spiritual beasts had escaped, and that Mo Ran was
overreacting out of inexperience. He laughed. “Look at you, flinching as if you saw an immortal.
What are you so surprised for.” He turned around, still grinning, and faltered as he saw what had
startled his classmate.

Standing in the snowy dusk outside the door was Chu Wanning, wearing white robes with a vivid
red cape. He turned elegantly to the side to discard his umbrella and shake off the snow before
looking toward his disciples with slender phoenix eyes. Mo Ran’s heart sped up and his palms
prickled, his breathing coming to a stuttering halt.

Though usually the disciples didn’t dare react when Chu Wanning entered a space, his appearance
now after so long spent in seclusion led to a gradual ripple of silence. The white snowflakes still
clinging to him made his face even fairer in comparison and his eyebrows darker. His own
disciples broke the silence, shouting for him and running to embrace him.

Xue Meng was the loudest. “Sir, you’re finally here! I thought we wouldn’t see you before we left,
but you do love us! Sir, sir!”

Shi Mei slowed to a halt before perpetrating the gross impropriety of hugging his teacher, and
bowed respectfully instead. “Congratulations on ending your seclusion, sir.”

Chu Wanning patted both of their heads. “I apologize for taking so long. Let’s greet the new year
together.”

He sat down at the feast, properly upright and calm. His three disciples mimicked him, the table
completely silent as they regarded the traditional ingredients in front of them and the brand-new
copper coin. As Mo Ran was the best cook of the group, it was wordlessly decided that he would
take charge.

I can’t even tell if that’s supposed to poke fun at terrible transitions or if the author’s just
bad at it

“Guess I’m in charge,” he said, grinning. “Who knows how to roll dough?” None of them
answered. “I’m on wrappers, then. Shi Mei, your wontons are excellent, so you’re in charge of the
dumpling filling. They’re pretty similar.”

“But not the same,” Shi Mei said. “What if I do it wrong?”

“It’s fine as long as it’s edible,” Chu Wanning said. “Don’t worry too much.”

“Xue Meng, pass the water and keep our sleeves out of the way, I don’t know. Don’t get in the
way.” Mo Ran grinned. “Sir, would you like to watch and enjoy your tea?”

“I’ll wrap the dumplings,” Chu Wanning replied coldly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mo Ran stuck a finger in one ear and wiggled it. “I must be hearing things.
What did you say?”
“I said, I’ll wrap the dumplings.”

Mo Ran thought that he would have much rather been hearing things after all.

------

The finished product was surprisingly appealing, given the clumsy wrapping techniques. The
dumplings were adorably round, lined up neatly as if at attention in front of the three dumbstruck
disciples. None of them could keep his mouth shut on an expression of awe and disbelief, but Chu
Wanning was close enough to hear every word no matter how quietly they spoke. He pressed his
lips together, ears growing pink.

“Sir, is this the first time you’ve made dumplings?” Shi Mei finally asked, and when Chu Wanning
nodded, he was bold enough to continue. “Then why do they look so nice?”

“It’s like making constructs,” Chu Wanning said. “A fold here and there, very simple.”

Memories of the last and only time he’d seen Chu Wanning cook crept up on Mo Ran, when his
teacher had tried to make Shi Mei’s special wontons and Mo Ran had dumped them all over the
floor. He couldn’t remember their shape, only the look of stunned surprise on his teacher’s face
and the bits of flour that had clung to his cheeks. Mo Ran had expected anger, but instead his
teacher had only gathered up the dirty wontons and thrown them in the trash. Mo Ran had actively
avoided thinking about what might have gone through Chu Wanning’s mind at the time and he
wasn’t about to start now.

The enchanted snowmen carried the finished dumplings to the kitchen for cooking. The copper
coin had been placed in one of them, bringing good luck to whoever found it. In short order, the
snowmen had returned with their finished meal, complete with spicy and sour dipping sauces.

“Sir, please go ahead,” Xue Meng said, and Chu Wanning graciously accepted.

After placing a dumpling in his own bowl, Constellation Saint served each of his disciples instead
of eating his dumpling immediately. “Happy New Year,” he said mildly as they stared at him in
shock.

“Happy New Year, sir,” they chorused back.

Mo Ran nearly broke a tooth on the copper coin as it cracked against his mouth on the very first
bite. He was caught completely off guard. Shi Mei laughed at his grimace. “Ran, you’re going to
be lucky this year.”

“Lucky bastard,” Xue Meng echoed.

“Sir,” Mo Ran lisped. “You’re too good at this.”

“Speak properly,” Chu Wanning said.

“I bit my tongue,” Mo Ran returned mournfully, and rubbed his cheek. A sip of tea offered by Shi
Mei numbed the pain, and he immediately regained his good humor. “Sir, did you deliberately
memorize which dumpling had the coin and give it to me?”

“You wish,” Chu Wanning said coldly, and turned away to start eating. His face seemed a little red
under the candlelight, Mo Ran thought, but he couldn’t be sure.

A sumptuous dinner followed the lucky dumplings, the head chef’s hard work materialized in a
spread of meat and fish covering the entire table. Xue Zhengyong and Madam Wang directed the
enchanted snowmen to deliver red packets to every table from the seat of honor, even to Chu
Wanning. He didn’t notice the snowman’s attempts to get his attention at first, and blinked in
surprise. The red packet contained a handful of expensive gold leaves.

Surprised, Chu Wanning looked up at his sect leader, only to see a carefree grin turned in his
direction and a cup of wine raised in a toast. He stared for a few moments, but couldn’t help the
faint smile that finally curved his mouth. He raised his own cup in acknowledgement, swallowing
its contents in a single gulp. The leaves were divided amongst his disciples.

Several rounds of drinks later, the atmosphere at the table had finally succumbed to the nonstop
stage performances and risen to meet the occasion. The three disciples appeared to have lost some
of their fear during his seclusion, no doubt helped along, Chu Wanning felt, by his inability to hold
his alcohol.

“Sir, l wanna read your palm,” Xue Meng said, the first to lose his sobriety. He carefully examined
his teacher’s palm, emboldened by drink. “You have a long but disjointed lifeline,” he said. “You
get sick way too easily.”

“Accurate,” Mo Ran laughed. Chu Wanning glared.

“Long and slender ring finger, so good fortune with money,” Xue Meng continued, ignoring the
byplay. “The love line branches off at its tip to merge into the wisdom line, which should mean
you sacrifice for love.” He peered at Chu Wanning closely. “Is that true?”

“Xue Ziming, do you have a death wish?” Chu Wanning hissed.

Too drunk to detect a threat, his disciple simply grinned at him and went back to examining his
palm. “Oh, the love line makes an island right below the ring finger, sir, you have terrible taste in
people. Absolutely dreadful.”

Chu Wanning snatched his hand back and pushed his sleeve down. Mo Ran was howling with
laughter, doubled over holding his stomach, but he caught a glimpse of his teacher’s icily
murderous gaze and made an obvious attempt to stifle his glee. “What are you laughing at?” Chu
Wanning snarled.

Xue Meng grabbed his sleeve before he could storm off in rage, pulling him down to burrow in his
arms. All the laughter drained out of Mo Ran as Xue Meng hugged his teacher. “Don’t go,” he
muttered. “Stay for another round.”

Chu Wanning thought he might choke on his own indignation. “Xue Ziming! Control yourself!”

this is why no one likes you, Chu Wanning, when they try to include you, you act like an
asshole and storm off in a snit, why the fuck would anyone want to be around someone who
acted like that

His attempts to salvage his wounded dignity were thwarted by the enchanted snowmen gesturing
him toward the stage; in a moment of supremely poor timing, Elder Tanlang had finished his sword
dance performance, and it was Chu Wanning’s turn to entertain. All eyes in the hall turned to him
just in time to see his disciple drunkenly clinging to his waist like a spoiled child. It was his worst
nightmare, and he couldn’t move without injuring his disciple. Rescue came from an unexpected
source.

“Come on, Xue Meng, aren’t you too old to act like a spoiled kid?” Mo Ran reached out with a