Return of The Yiling Laozu

The Lost Scroll

Su Mingshan's eyes flicked over him, and for a moment, something in his expression shifted—recognition tugged at the edge of memory, but it was buried quickly under arrogance.

"You must be new here. I suggest you keep your head down." His gaze then swept to Mo Xuanyu. "Ah, the Jin family's embarrassment. Still clinging to delusions of status?"

Mo Xuanyu smiled thinly, stepping forward. "Still clinging to your stolen treasures, Sect Leader Su?"

Su Mingshan's face darkened.

But before he could speak, a sudden gust swept through the market—cold and unnatural. A whisper flitted between banners, a spectral moan that brushed the edges of Wei Wuxian's spiritual sense.

The spirit had returned.

He stole from the wounded. He let the Wens pass through untouched. The scroll belongs to Gusu.

Lan Wangji, silent beside Wei Wuxian, tightened his grip on the cloth-wrapped hilt of Bichen. He stepped forward, no longer slouching. The presence of Gusu Lan was unmistakable in the sudden stillness that fell over the market.

Su Mingshan took one step back, eyes darting between them.

"You're making a mistake," he growled.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. "No. You did, six years ago. And you're about to find out what it means to steal from the dead."

The crowd thinned fast—merchants and buyers sensing the coming storm. Wei Wuxian's smile vanished as he stepped closer, his posture suddenly that of the Yiling Patriarch: casual yet commanding, dangerous in his ease.

Su Mingshan snapped his fingers. His two guards unsheathed their blades, stepping forward.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that last comment," Su Mingshan said tightly. "Take them. Strip them. I want to know who dares insult the Moling Su on its own ground."

Wei Wuxian sighed and cracked his knuckles.

"I really didn't want to do this in front of the dumpling stand," he muttered, before raising two fingers. With a flick, a whirling talisman activated in mid-air and surged toward the guards. Purple energy coiled like lightning, knocking one of them backward and throwing the other into a stall of rice bags.

Lan Wangji, now unmistakable in his authority, stepped forward. His disguise fluttered away with his movement, white robes glimmering faintly even beneath servant garb. His forehead ribbon flashed as he unsheathed Bichen in one fluid motion.

"Lan Wangji," Su Mingshan spat. "So the rumors were true. You are out of seclusion."

Wei Wuxian smirked. "I'd be more concerned with your sins than rumors."

A flash of panic crossed Su Mingshan's face before he turned and fled through the alleys, calling for backup.

Mo Xuanyu appeared beside Wei Wuxian, panting. "He's heading for the inner shrine! That's where they keep sect archives and relics!"

Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji. "How are you holding up?"

Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. "The resentment is dormant. For now."

"Then let's move. Quietly."

Later That Night – Moling Su Sect Inner Grounds

The three of them stood in the shadow of the high walls. The sect's main archive building loomed ahead, two guards stationed at the front, lanterns flickering in the wind.

Mo Xuanyu whispered, "I can cause a distraction. I know the grounds."

Wei Wuxian hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Mo Xuanyu gave a small, crooked smile. "They still think of me as a disgrace. I may as well use that reputation for something good."

Lan Wangji nodded solemnly, then turned to Wei Wuxian. "I will follow your lead."

Wei Wuxian gave a quick nod before laying out the plan. "Mo Xuanyu distracts the guards. Lan Zhan and I will scale the outer wall. The scroll should be in the central chamber if that spirit's memories were right. We'll be in and out before anyone knows."

Mo Xuanyu stepped into the lamplight, faking a drunken stagger.

"You idiots wouldn't recognize a cursed blade if it kissed your neck!" he yelled at the guards, slurring his words as if intoxicated. "No wonder your sect has to steal its techniques."

The guards rushed toward him with curses, and in that moment, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji slipped over the wall like shadows.

Inside the Archive Hall

The building was dim, quiet save for the distant chanting of cultivation wards. The smell of old ink and incense clung to the shelves.

They moved swiftly. Wei Wuxian's fingers traced the sigils etched into the floor. "These were stolen from Gusu. I'd recognize this sealing pattern anywhere."

Lan Wangji paused, eyes locked on a high shelf lined with dusty scrolls. He moved toward them, running his hand over the spines until—he stopped.

A faint glimmer.

"There." He pulled out a black-bound scroll sealed with a wax crest bearing the Lan sigil—defaced.

Wei Wuxian took it reverently, peeling the seal open.

"Restoration of Severed Core," he read aloud. "Written by Lan Zemin... this is it."

Suddenly, a spiritual ward shattered with a snap.

Alarms.

"Go!" Wei Wuxian shoved the scroll into his robe.

The pair ran, dodging spell flares and the clamor of oncoming disciples. Wei Wuxian threw a talisman at the entrance, unleashing a thick fog that cloaked their retreat.

Mo Xuanyu appeared through the smoke, grinning wildly. "Now that was fun!"

They scaled the outer wall again just as more guards flooded the courtyard.

By the time the Moling Su disciples realized what had been taken, the three had already vanished into the night, retreating down the canal toward their boat.

Onboard, as the scroll lay between them glowing faintly in moonlight, Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji and said softly, "We're one step closer."

Lan Wangji, holding Wei Wuxian's hand firmly, nodded.

And in the distance, the spirit of the healer from Gusu faded peacefully into the night wind—finally at rest.