The moon hung high, veiled in a soft gauze of clouds. In the heart of the Tianxing Pavilion, a screen of translucent jade pulsed with a faint celestial glow. Runes carved in ancient language shimmered across its surface, showing distant stars conversing among themselves.
Beyond the veil of space, the silhouette of an old man appeared—his back straight despite the centuries carved into his bones, his beard flowing like silver mist. His form was projected from atop a divine stone nestled in the Sea of Stars, where constellations swirled endlessly above him.
"It's been a month," the old voice rumbled, gentle yet weighty, like the tolling of a great bronze bell, "since the Phoenix Star brightened in the heavens. The omen was clear. A soul born of fire and destined to change the tide of the world."
Before the screen, in a quiet chamber surrounded by suspended lanterns and floating crystals, stood a man dressed in pristine white silk robes. A silver mask covered the upper half of his face, but it could not hide the calm intelligence in his voice.
"Honorable Master," Xuanyan said with a slow, respectful bow. "I've met the one with destiny."
The divine stargazer's silhouette leaned slightly forward, the glimmer of interest flaring around his form. "And?"
The disciple straightened, his deep eyes catching the flicker of starlight as he recalled the encounter. "He's… unlike any other I've crossed paths with. His soul burns fiercely, yet carries the scent of calmness. A contradiction, walking as one." he pauses, "I've never seen a destiny web so tangled around a single being."
The old man chuckled, a rasp-like wind brushing across the sand. "So, you finally met someone who makes even you uncertain?"
Xuanyan's lips curled faintly beneath the mask. "Uncertain, no. Intrigued? Yes. His personality stands out… bold, reckless perhaps.. He reminds me of a star that should not yet exist—burning too bright, too soon."
A long silence followed.
Then the stargazer said, voice thoughtful, "The Phoenix Star does not shine idly. His emergence will herald a storm, one the heavens cannot ignore. Have you made your choice?"
"I have," the disciple said, bowing once more. "Whether flame or ash, I will see it through."
The silhouette's shoulders relaxed. "Good. But remember—fate is not a river. It's a sea. And even the stars get lost in its depths."
The jade screen dimmed, the ancient runes softening into slumber. Xuanyan stood quietly, fingers folding around a copper coin as the soft hum of wind filled the silence. His gaze drifted to the sky outside the pavilion, where a single star burned brighter than the rest, its red-gold light unwavering.
He tilted his head ever so slightly before sighing.
On the other side.
The silver glow of the moon draped over the clearing like a veil, illuminating the two figures at its center—one leaning lazily against a gnarled plum tree trunk, the other crouched amidst a trembling herd of spirit boars.
Mo Yichen hummed to himself as he uncorked a jade gourd, shaking out a dozen iridescent pills into his palm. The beasts sniffed the air, their beady eyes widening with a mix of fear and desperation.
"Shhh, easy now," he murmured, offering a pill to the nearest beast. It hesitated, then gulped it down with a whimper.
A beat passed.
Then—
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Dozens of shimmering pearls tumbled from the boars' mouths, rolling across the soil. Mo Yichen's smile widened.
"Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all." He patted a particularly large boar between its beady eyes. "You can last longer next time, I think."
The "next time" sent a fresh wave of whines through the herd.
Four hours earlier, the peak-stage spirit boar guardian had emerged from the cave in a fury, its massive body bristling with killing intent. It took one step toward them—
—and immediately froze, its limbs locking mid-charge.
Yan Yeqing hadn't even unsheathed his sword. He'd simply looked at it, and the beast had stumbled straight into Mo Yichen's waiting array, the carved lotus pebbles flaring crimson beneath its paws.
Mo Yichen had clapped his hands. "Perfect!"
Yan Yeqing had sighed.
Now, under the moonlight, the once-ferocious guardian boar lay on its side, its enormous doe eyes pleading as Mo Yichen fed it a third Spirit Rejuvenation Pill—a high-grade treasure worth a whole estate.
"Hmm.." he muttered, watching the spirit pearls pulse erratically. "The pearl regeneration rate increases with each dose, but the quality deteriorates after the fourth extraction—ah!"
A cold finger tapped his forehead.
"It's already late," Yan Yeqing said, looming over him with a sword in one hand and three unconscious spirit wolves draped over his shoulders. "Hurry up"
Mo Yichen blinked up at him. "...Where did you get those?"
Yan Yeqing dropped the wolves. "North ridge. They were watching." His lip twitched as a wolf whimpered. "Now they're participating."
Mo Yichen's eyes lit up. A familiar evil smile spread across his lips.
...
Yan Yeqing observed the familiar scene from his position on a boulder, his sword balanced across his knees. A faint gleam lingered in his eyes—something between amusement and something warmer, quieter.
After what feels like an eternity Mo Yichen finally collected all the spirit pearls on his ring as he dusted his robes. "Sigh.. I don't think they can produce more..." he looks up before sighing again "It's already so dark, let's head to the cave first"
With a light thud, Yan Yeqing landed soundlessly in front of the cave entrance. His boots pressed into damp earth, moss squishing faintly beneath his step. Behind him, Mo Yichen summoned a white soul flame that burst to life on his palm, bathing the stone entrance in pale brilliance. The flickering glow danced across the cave mouth, revealing dried blood stains, the remnants of something gruesome.
Mo Yichen instinctively lifted his sleeve to his nose. The stench of blood, and rot assaulted his senses, thick and suffocating. He exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves, before stepping inside.
The flame illuminated the walls, where moss crept like veins, damp and emerald. Their steps were silent, but the cave echoed with a ghostly hush, as if even the dead were still listening. On one side lay a tangle of human bones, bleached and broken.
Mo Yichen stiffened. His stomach turned. "How many cultivators died here..." he murmured, unable to keep the horror from lacing his voice.
He felt the quiet steps of Yan Yeqing close behind and, oddly, that brought some comfort. The pressure in his chest, the one that had been building since he first stepped inside, loosened with the knowledge that he wasn't alone.
They continued deeper. The tunnel slowly opened into a larger inner chamber, and from the distance, a soft light glowed—warm and golden.
Mo Yichen was just about to move toward it when a faint whimper caught his ears. He halted, frowning, and turned toward the source of the sound.
In a hollow just beside the path, nestled near a jagged rock, huddled a herd of small boars. Their eyes were wide with fear, their bodies trembling. Even the adult boars seemed scared out of their wits.
Mo Yichen stared, momentarily dumbfounded.
"..."
Yan Yeqing coughed lightly behind him. "You've left a huge trauma on them."
Mo Yichen rubbed the tip of his nose awkwardly, averting his gaze. "...really?"
A short laugh escaped Yan Yeqing's lips.
Mo Yichen cast a sidelong glance at the man and froze.
Yan Yeqing was laughing. A genuine, soft chuckle that lit his usually cold and restrained face. Mo Yichen didn't know what struck him more—the sound or the sight of it. For a fleeting moment, he thought, If I can be the clown for a fleeting second who makes him laugh... maybe that won't be such a bad thing.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed by his own thoughts.
Yan Yeqing leaned down, his voice low, close enough for the warmth of his breath to brush Mo Yichen's ear. "In this world, we abide by the law of the jungle. The strong survive. The weak die. Those cultivators—" he tilted his chin toward the bones behind them, "—they were once like us. If we weren't strong enough, we'd be lying there instead."
Mo Yichen said nothing, but his lips pressed into a thin line.
Yan Yeqing straightened. "So what I'm saying is... there's no need to feel guilt. Because if we died here, no one would mourn us either."
Mo Yichen was silent for a moment. Then, he gave a single nod. "Understood."
They moved on.
After a few minutes, the narrow tunnel opened into a hidden clearing deep within the cave. Unlike the rest of the dark, damp interior, this place was oddly beautiful. Luminous stones lined the edges of the walls and ceiling, casting a dreamlike glow. In the center of the space were some soft drawings, shimmering faintly beneath a thin layer of dust.
At the far end of the chamber, near a collapsed section of the wall, was a small pile of spirit crystals, gathered haphazardly.
Mo Yichen's steps slowed. He stared at the spirit crystal and lowered his head slightly.
"These..."
Yan Yeqing glanced at the pile, "They must have been the belongings of the cultivators who died here."
Mo Yichen, "Ahem..It would be a waste to leave them."
He raised his ringed hand, and one by one, the stones vanished into his spatial ring with a soft hum.
Yan Yeqing's gaze lingered on the crimson jade ring encircling Mo Yichen's finger, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. The jade pulsed faintly under the dim glow of the cave's luminous crystals, its surface etched with intricate.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low and measured.
"Is this similar to the legendary spatial jewel?"
Mo Yichen's fingers twitched, his head snapping up in surprise. "...Have you seen something like this before?"
Ahh, damn it. I knew I couldn't hide much when I'm constantly staying with someone.. He suppressed a grimace.
Yan Yeqing tilted his head, considering. "No, I haven't. And I doubt anyone else on this side of the continent has either." His gaze sharpened. "The Southern Tianxia is far more advanced—closer to the upper realms. If such artifacts exist, they'd be there."
"..Where are you from?"
Mo Yichen choked on his own breath, coughing violently into his sleeve. "Ahem—no, no. I was given this by a wandering Taoist years ago." He waved a hand dismissively, the lie slipping smoothly from his lips. "He also gave me this name."
For the sake of his own conscience, he thought..
Well… it's not entirely a lie.
At least the part about the name was true—according to Lan Yu, anyway.
After a moment of silence, Yan Yeqing nods and takes measured strides towards the centre crouching near the gleaming drawings.
Mo Yichen's eyes narrowed on it, "..teleportation array?"
Yan Yeqing, "..Hmm. Looks like things went easy."
He examined the teleportation array, crouching by the side and running a finger over the edge of one rune. "This array is old," he murmured. "Old, but surprisingly well preserved. It must have been protected by the natural spiritual currents of this place. I believe it was meant to lead to the centre... or perhaps deeper within this secret realm."
"Can we use it?" Mo Yichen asked, walking over.
Yan Yeqing nodded slightly. "Yes. But it'll need spirit energy to activate. The crystals you gathered should suffice."
Mo Yichen thought for a while before he shook his head, "There's no need to waste those, I should be able to handle this much"
Yan Yeqing's brows furrowed, "...are you sure?"
Mo Yichen studied the teleportation array, its runes pulsing faintly. After a moment's consideration, he gave a short nod and extended his hand.
A thin thread of crimson spirit qi streamed from his palm, twisting through the air like liquid fire. At first, it was no thicker than a strand of silk—but with each passing second, it grew, coiling into a dense, rope-like current of pure spiritual power.
Yan Yeqing's brows lifted.
It was one thing to know Mo Yichen was unconventional. It was another to witness it firsthand.
Alchemists, by nature, prioritized soul power over spiritual qi. Their bodies were vessels for refinement, not combat—delicate instruments meant for precision, not brute force. Yet here was Mo Yichen, channeling spiritual qi like a martial artist, his reserves seemingly bottomless.
And his soul…
Yan Yeqing exhaled softly. Mo Yichen's soul was a rarity—pristine as a white lotus, untainted by the usual scars of cultivation. To possess such purity and such vast spiritual energy defied logic.
Who knew how many secrets this little one is hiding?
Amusement tugged at the corner of Yan Yeqing's mouth as he watched the array react. The crimson current ignited the runes, sending a golden light flaring along the edges of the formation. The air hummed, charged with glow.
Mo Yichen glanced over his shoulder, tilting his head toward the array in silent invitation.
Yan Yeqing didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone dais just as Mo Yichen joined him.
A flash—blinding, brilliant—and then—
—vanished.
The cavern stood empty, the last echoes of their presence swallowed by the dark.