'Wasn't he.. just bathing in here..? What body? Does anyone search for things while bathing? At least Wèi has never seen this before.'
Wèi Yīlíng wondered, head pounding, as he pressed himself behind a tree.
The matter was deep. But in this condition—where mind and body walked on separate paths—he could not think deeper.
Without warning, a sound sliced through the thin air.
A blade.
Curved like a sliver of moon, it cut through the silence and struck the tree trunk with a trembling thud—landing dangerously close to where Wèi stood.
Wèi Yīlíng gasped, almost stumbling. 'That was close.'
'Why is he scaring Wèi from the very first day—no, night—of his second life?!'
---
Làn Sùjī pressed himself against a wall, gripping his injured leg. His silver-blue robes were soaked red in patches. His golden eyes, dull with exhaustion and fear, darted toward the open space where his sword and guqin lay—
Broken.
A massive bird-like foot stomped them, cracking the wood further. The yào growled, possessive, angry.
Làn Sùjī looked away, throat tight.
"How am I supposed to get out of here?" His whisper was barely audible. "I hope my messenger talisman reached my clan..."
He didn't know it hadn't.
---
"Hold on! Wèi is getting us out of here!" Wèi Yīlíng gripped a makeshift harness, face bright with pride and exhilaration.
"ANNNHHHH!" the yào roared in agreement.
"You can continue arguing once we're out," Wùjī told Sùjī, pulling him closer.
"You—!" Làn Sùjī's protest died as more yào lunged. Wàng Wùjī's sword circled defensively until they both grabbed hold of the creature's foot.
---
His eyeballs had turned pitch black. His pupils glowed red. Two locks of his ponytail had turned red at the edges, floating behind him as if he were some possessed devil.
'W-Why Wèi... Wèi looks so scary!'
His fingers trembled as he pressed them over the holes and tried to play—though he had zero experience.
And he was horrible. The worst possible. Or perhaps there was something else unknown behind the red jade.
The mirror in front of him cracked from the chaotic music. Wàng Wùjī's father and Wùjī held their ears like a lifeline.
"STOP PLAYING IT, BOY! THIS INSTRUMENT MIGHT NOT BE RIGHT FOR YOU!" Wàng Wùjī's father yelled, tension rising.
Wàng Wùjī's eyes were wide, as if trying his best not to be shaken into sound trauma again. "WÈI YĪLÍNG! SILENCE. RIGHT. NOW!"
---
"No, no, no, no, Wèi Zî! This place is slippery! You are going to fall!"
All the younger disciples got distracted, and one by one their qì broke as they rushed toward the side where Wèi Yīlíng stood. The elders' qì broke in the same rhythm.
"Er–Wùjī! The boy behind you!" another elder called.
At that moment, when Wèi was about to be careful, he really slipped and fell onto his back.
---
"You have seen…?!" Wàng Wùjī's cheeks flushed just a little. His hand subconsciously rested over his right hip as he caught the flute with his other hand and kept it in his half-moon charm. "What is hidden inside my robes is none of your business to see."
"Hmph.." Làn Sùjī opened the door like a storm. The talisman he had used for the shield cracked like glass and faded into thin air.
The disciples outside froze at their last words. The Làns who were about to report something about the bodies stopped. Others looked at them with their remaining tasks in hand.
---
But a voice echoed from behind—"Why is the conversation running too long after what I ordered?"
The words were sharp, but the way they curled around his voice was soft, thoughtful—as if this strange calm made it more unsettling.
"Jiǎng Xiānsheng.." The disciples moved back to two sides, bowing respectfully.
"The guests.. were demanding to meet you."
"We were just about to finish the matter."
The disciples quickly reported, their gazes lowered.
Lìngxiāo's breath caught. Same for Chóng Fēi. They both looked at each other fast, then moved to either side of Làncǎi.
It was Jiǎng Língxi himself.
His back was straight. The fabric of his blue robe touched the ground gently but whispered authority. His royal blue eyes landed on the guests with whom his people had been talking too long. He raised one hand, and everyone lowered their arms with the sound of covered swords touching the ground.
His icy, gentle eyes seemed to hold a different story deep within their pools—composed, yet as if it was a great mistake to have come here.
When Lìngxiāo finally looked at the man, he could not deny it: the Lord of Earth had not just made him—he had carved him from a rare gemstone.
Even Làncǎi seemed to forget what he was about to say. His mouth lightly parted as his gaze locked on him.
Both Lìngxiāo and Làncǎi had the same shape of the man's face—though he looked their age. But his eyes were deeper, lashes like tiny promises over his gaze. And the gem at the middle of his temple... it was unnatural for any human to grow a gem on any part of their body.
But he...
He looked intentional.
Naturally.
---
Black Peacock's Tearstone Cultivation
[Coming soon. This is just the beginning of a new unpredictable legend.]