Return of The Yiling Laozu

Choosing it

Yi City lay in the shadow of the old mountains, its stone streets lined with ghostly silence and pale mist that drifted like memory itself. The city, once vibrant with traveling cultivators and the rhythm of life, now echoed with a brittle stillness.

As they entered through the broken arch of its outer gate, Wei Wuxian paused. The familiar air—damp with the scent of rain-soaked stone—unsettled something in him. The last time he'd walked through this city, he had been a different man, bearing a different name.

They passed crumbling walls and empty stalls. Here and there, a lantern flickered in a window, but most of Yi City was hollow—like a corpse waiting for a name.

In the marketplace, seated by a burnt incense stand, was a man in white robes, eyes closed behind a black sash. Though the cloth covered them, his gaze seemed to pierce through the silence.

Wei Wuxian recognized him at once.

"Xiao Xingchen," he said softly, approaching with Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu at his side. Xue Yang lingered at the rear, his body rigid.

The blind cultivator turned his head slightly. "Who...?"

"I am Wei Wuxian," came the gentle reply. "And this is my husband, Lan Wangji. Mo Xuanyu travels with us as a friend and companion."

Wei Wuxian didn't mention Xue Yang. Not yet. Not when he saw the fleeting tension in Xue Yang's jaw, the slight step backward, as if ready to vanish into the fog.

"Ah," Xiao Xingchen said, a small smile forming. "I've heard of you. The Yiling Laozu... I suppose I should call you shizhi. Your mother, Cangse Sanren, was my shijie. That makes you... my nephew of sorts."

Wei Wuxian's smile flickered. "I'm honored, Shishu."

"I regret," Xiao Xingchen said softly, "that I cannot see you with my own eyes. They were taken from me at Baixue Temple... during the hunt for a murderer named Xue Chengmei. A delinquent backed, I suspect, by the Jins to stir chaos in the region."

Xue Yang stood utterly still. A faint tremble in his fingers betrayed him.

Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Wangji. "We're on our way to Kunlun," he explained, "to seek help for Lan Zhan's golden core. It was damaged. We're gathering supplies for the last leg of our journey."

"Kunlun," Xiao Xingchen murmured. "Then... seek Baoshan Sanren. She's taken up temporary residence there, I've heard. If anyone in this age can help, it's her. She may be aloof, but she won't refuse her grand-disciple."

He reached out, placing a small pouch of medicinal herbs in Wei Wuxian's hand. "Take what I can offer. May it carry you through the mountains."

Wei Wuxian bowed deeply. "Thank you, Shishu."

Later that night, under the tattered eaves of a dilapidated teahouse, Xue Yang found Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji sitting watch.

"I need to say something," Xue Yang said, voice low.

Wei Wuxian looked up, unsurprised. "Go on."

"I knew Xiao Xingchen," Xue Yang began. "And Song Lan. Years ago, they hunted me through the Jianghu. Called me monster, killer... and maybe I was. I—" He faltered. "I attacked Baixue Temple. I poisoned it. Song Lan's sect. Xiao Xingchen came to help... and lost his eyes because of it."

Lan Wangji's expression remained unreadable. Wei Wuxian's was heavy with quiet disappointment.

"You still let him smile at you," Wei Wuxian murmured.

Xue Yang's jaw clenched. "I didn't know he would be here. I didn't expect..."

"What would you do now?" Wei Wuxian asked quietly.