Return of The Yiling Laozu

The Lost Scroll

From the deck above, Mo Xuanyu called, "You two might want to come see this. Su Mingshan just walked into the market square—with guards."

Wei Wuxian stood slowly, fingers flexing toward Chenqing tucked in his robes. "Time to say hello to an old acquaintance."

Lan Wangji rose beside him, resentment crackling just beneath his skin. But this time, he didn't fall behind.

As they walked through the narrow corridor of the boat cabin, the late afternoon sun casting slats of amber light through the reed curtains, Lan Wangji turned to Wei Wuxian with quiet intensity.

"How did you know Su Mingshan had the scroll?"

Wei Wuxian hesitated. He leaned on the doorframe, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the sloping roofs of Moling. "I didn't... at first." He turned, meeting Lan Wangji's gaze. "But while I was in the market earlier, I... encountered someone."

"Someone?" Lan Wangji's voice was wary.

Wei Wuxian's lips twitched. "A spirit. Old, fractured, but not malicious. Just... restless." He looked down at his hands. "She used to be a healer. Said she died during the Wen siege trying to protect her patients in Gusu. She remembers a scroll going missing—one of the advanced core reconstruction texts from the Forbidden Wing. She saw Su Mingshan take it during the chaos."

Lan Wangji stiffened. "One of ours?"

Wei Wuxian nodded. "The spirit wasn't lying. That's the thing about the dead. They might be bitter, confused, even disillusioned. But they don't deceive. Their truth is all they have left."

Lan Wangji's hand drifted briefly toward the hilt of Bichen, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked toward the deck.

Mo Xuanyu was waiting with a bundle of dark gray robes in his arms. "Servant attire," he said, flashing an impish smile. "You'll blend in, but only if Lan Wangji can slouch like he's broken."

Lan Wangji arched a brow in response.

Wei Wuxian chuckled as he took a robe and tossed the other to Lan Wangji. "Come on, Lan Zhan. Think of it as method acting."

The marketplace was more tense than it had been earlier, the air taut with unspoken resentment. The trio wove through crowds with Mo Xuanyu in the lead, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji trailing behind, heads lowered and hair tucked beneath servant caps.

They didn't have to search long.

In the square ahead, Su Mingshan stood flanked by two armored guards, dressed in a flowing dark green robe emblazoned with the crescent symbol of the Moling Su Sect. His voice rang out, smooth and authoritative.

"These talismans don't even hold a stable charge," he sneered, lifting one of a vendor's charms and letting it fall like trash onto the cobbled stone. "I'll accept half your earnings today as a gesture of goodwill. Consider it an investment in your safety."

The vendor, a wiry man with soot-stained hands, bowed his head but clutched his coin pouch with visible despair.

Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth. He stepped forward before Mo Xuanyu could stop him.

"This is robbery," he called out, voice sharp but calm. "Since when did the Moling Su start charging protection money in the name of safety?"

Su Mingshan turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "And who are you to question Moling Su business?"

Wei Wuxian straightened, servant's robe forgotten as he met Su Mingshan's gaze. "A traveler. One who remembers when sects protected the weak, not preyed on them."