Return of The Yiling Laozu

Threat of a Myth

The morning mists of Gusu had thickened with something weightier than dew—uncertainty.

The pines stood still as whispers moved like serpents between sects. It had started as a hush, a rumor too impossible to be true. But now the cultivators of Lanling Jin sat hunched over lacquered Go boards and scrolls, calculating influence, lineage, and legacy.

In the main strategy hall of Lanling, lit by soft gold and the hush of contained malice, Jin Guangyao stood before a painted map of the cultivation realm. Small carved tokens marked alliances—Yunmeng Jiang, now tethered to Gusu Lan by marriage; Qishan Nie, ever wary but neutral; Moling Su, rebuilding after quiet retaliation from Gusu; and Lanling Jin, gilded and swollen with power, isolated in their throne of roses and rot.

"Cloud Recesses is no longer merely a haven of scholars," one Jin elder spat. "They hold Yunmeng. Their exile has returned. And now..." He leaned forward. "This myth. A man pregnant with the child of Hanguang-jun."

Another elder scoffed, but uneasily. "It is unnatural. Folklore. Fables for soft-hearted villagers."

"Is it?" Jin Guangyao murmured, eyes narrowed. "My informants swear on their lives it is true. Wei Wuxian lives. And his body now hosts a soul unlike any born before. A child between two men. If this becomes accepted..."

"It undermines Heaven's Will," a senior cultivator muttered. "It undoes lineage, rank, hegemony."

"It upends Jin supremacy," Jin Guangyao said plainly. "The people will follow awe, not order. If a child is born of dual cultivation—a child of yin and yang within one womb—the world will change its axis to orbit Gusu."

He let the silence settle, then, with a smile as delicate as a blade, concluded:

"Prepare our forces. Diplomacy first, if they'll listen. War, if we must. Let Gusu know—we do not kneel to myth."

Back in Cloud Recesses – The Wards Rise

Blue talismans shimmered across the outer barriers of Cloud Recesses. Lan disciples worked day and night under Lan Wangji's silent command. Arrays once reserved for great threats were reinstated—skyward shields, spirit-seal nets, and teleportation anchors etched deep into stone.

Inside the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian lay curled on a daybed, a silk shawl draped over his growing abdomen, his fingers absently tracing a talisman of protection Lan Wangji had drawn by hand.

He looked up as Lan Wangji entered.

"They're preparing to come, aren't they?" he asked quietly. "Lanling?"

Lan Wangji nodded once. "Jin Guangyao seeks control of the narrative. Of you. Of our child."

Wei Wuxian gave a crooked smile. "I guess being a walking myth makes me a political threat."

Lan Wangji came to his side, kneeling before him and placing a hand over the swell of his belly.

"You are my truth," he whispered. "And I will burn the world before I let them take you from me."

Wei Wuxian's breath caught. He covered Lan Wangji's hand with his own. "Let's not burn anything yet. Let's just make sure we're still standing when spring comes."

A heartbeat passed.

"I'll strengthen the core wards tonight," Lan Wangji said, standing. "The cold moon array will shield us if they breach the outer barrier."