It struck He Renxiao as particularly odd that Shizun had only requested his head disciples this time. If his memory served him correctly—and it often did—this mission in particular marked the same mission when he, Mo Shuyi, Li Yuan, and Nan Feng had all received spiritual weapons within the depths of the cave of souls in his past life. The only one who hadn't within his sect siblings was Jing Peishi, as he had stayed behind.
He Renxiao wondered—if they weren't coming this time around, would it make any difference at all? Would the three remaining companions still receive their weapon? Yet, amidst these thoughts, He Renxiao found himself starting to feel a pang of longing—he was beginning to miss his sword, Li Yu, more than he cared to admit.
Li Yu was no ordinary weapon; it was divinely crafted and imbued with extraordinary power. Its form was fluid, capable of shifting seamlessly from a sword to a whip, moving with a speed that rivaled the swiftest fish—hence its name, embodying agility and grace.
Not only had he received Li Yu in his past, but there was another sword he had received during a different time—a sword he had named Xuan Yan. He had received it when the gods first accepted him as the 'bloodhound emperor' and it was fused with his very core. Now that he thought about it, it was probably why his core had shattered so easily when Mo Shuyi did it..
The memories of those days flooded back as they descended into the valley, however, regardless of how hard he took them, He Renxiao couldn't help but be captivated by the breathtaking landscape unfolding before him.
As the cool breeze brushed past him and the sunlight cast dappled shadows across the terrain, he felt a renewed sense of anticipation and wonder, eager to see what awaited them in the depths of this sacred place.
"Renxiao, quit zoning off, you're gonna get tired if you keep walking, get on your horse." He Renxiao turned to look up at Li Yuan, who came to walk past him on his own horse. He Renxiao blinked. He had insisted on walking the horse instead of riding it because he wanted to enjoy the scenery– and Ming Yu didn't particularly like him all too much..
"Yes Shixiong." He Renxiao responded shortly and turned to pull on the horse's rims, causing him to halt before he hoisted himself up and onto the back of the horse, stumbling a bit and even holding onto the horse's neck to stabilize himself, its withers pressed against his chest. He Renxiao was good at cultivating, not riding horses, alright?!
Li Yuan stared at him, also pulling his horse to a stop while the others rode ahead of them. "Do you.. Not know how to ride a horse?" He asked skeptically.
He Renxiao stared at him for a moment before huffing and quickly fixing his posture. "For your information, I DO know how to ride a horse, I am just small and I'm growing." And with that, he tapped the horse's side to get him to go faster, and it did, though not without throwing He Renxiao forwards with it like a limp ragdoll.
Li Yuan laughed at this, a cackle that seemed to taunt He Renxiao to his core and fluster him to the point he could do nothing but tighten his grip on the rims till his knuckles turned white and not make eye contact.
"Yuan," Lan Qiang called forward, his tone holding a hint of authority but still playful. "Don't tease your Shidi."
Lan Qiang sat atop his mount with effortless grace, like he was born in a saddle. His azure robes billowed in the wind behind him. "Renxiao has many talents. Horsemanship simply isn't among them yet."
Yet.
The words hung in the air with a peculiar weight. He Renxiao's fingers tightened further on the reins as Ming Yu trotted beneath him with what felt like deliberate roughness.
In his past life, he'd eventually become an exceptional rider—necessity had demanded it during the war that had torn their sect apart. He guessed he just was shaky about the whole rebirth thing that it made for him hard to do now. He remembered the feeling of a different horse beneath him, remembered fleeing through burning villages with Mo Shuyi's forces at his back, remembered—
He shook his head sharply, deciding those memories were better left forgotten. That life was gone. Dead. Buried with the Greyhound Emperor's reputation and the countless bodies that had paved his path to that hollow title.
"This disciple apologizes for his inadequacy." He Renxiao said as if formal words came more easily than casual ones. The years spent using measured tones seemed to weigh on him like a boulder, even in this new life.
Li Yuan gave a gentle shake of his head, his hair falling down his back like a tidepool. His tone became softer, almost gentler and fading from amusement to that big brother tone a xiong seemed to always have for his di, which only served to annoy He Renxiao. "Aiya, Xiao-Ling, I'm only teasing." He trotted his horse a bit closer. "Here—"
He reached out, "Adjust your seat like this. See?"
"Your perched like a bird about to take flight, that isn't comfortable. Settle your weight lower."
That nickname.. Xiao-Ling.. It gave He Renxiao an unexpected pang in his chest. Li yuan was the only one who would still use it. It was left from when Lan Qiang brought him back to the sect.
He Renxiao let his brother adjust his posture, Ming Yu's gait immediately soothing beneath him like he was satisfied with the new position. He found himself moving with the horse rather than against it.
"Better. See?"
He Renxiao paused and let his gaze fall back to the trail ahead. In his previous life, they had found the Pine Frost valley under attack.. They had been too late then.. The only survivors were hollow-eyed and terrified.
It had been their first real long term mission. The first time Lan Qiang had trusted them with something dangerous and it had nearly killed them!
He Renxiao's gaze drifted forward to where Mo Shuyi rode at the head of their small procession. His shixiong sat straight-backed and alert, his hand never straying far from the sword at his hip. Even now, even in this life where Mo Shuyi was still the sect's golden child rather than its greatest traitor, He Renxiao found himself watching for signs.
But Mo Shuyi in this timeline was... different. Quieter, perhaps. More contemplative. He spoke less, smiled rarely, and often seemed to be looking at something no one else could see. Sometimes He Renxiao caught him staring at his own hands with an expression that bordered on confusion, as if he didn't quite recognize them.
"The sun will set in another few hours," Lan Qiang announced, interrupting He Renxiao's spiraling thoughts. "We'll stop at the next inn. The Weeping Willow, if I recall correctly. It sits at the crossroads between here and Pine Frost Village."
"Yes, Shizun," all three disciples chorused.
The Weeping Willow Inn. Yes, He Renxiao remembered it. Remembered the elderly innkeeper with her kind smile and her daughter who'd served them tea. Remembered how, in his past life, they'd returned weeks later to find it burned to the ground, another casualty of the darkness spreading from Pine Frost Village. A shiver ran down his spine.. Better safe than sorry.
"Shizun," He Renxiao heard himself say, his voice carrying forward with surprising steadiness. "When we arrive at the inn, might this disciple request that we set wards around the building? As practice," he added quickly, seeing the curious looks from his companions. "This disciple has been studying the defensive formations in the library, and..."
"And you wish to test your knowledge," Lan Qiang finished, turning to regard him with those dark, knowing eyes.
For a moment—just a moment—He Renxiao could have sworn he saw something ancient looking back at him, something that had witnessed far more than twenty-five years should allow. But then Shizun smiled, and he was young again, barely older than Mo Shuyi.
"An excellent suggestion. Vigilance is the cultivator's greatest ally. We'll set the wards together after we've settled in."
Relief flooded through He Renxiao's chest. Perhaps he could save everyone. Perhaps he couldn't prevent every tragedy that had befallen them in his previous life.
He Renxiao managed a small smile. "This disciple is grateful for Shixiong's instruction." which was more out of habit.
"So formal," Li Yuan sighed dramatically. "We're brothers, Xiao-Ling. You can just call me ge when it's only us, you know."
Brothers. The word carried so much weight. In his past life, Li Yuan had stood by him even when the rest of the cultivation world had turned against him. His brother had fought beside him, bled beside him, and ultimately died beside him in that final, desperate battle against Mo Shuyi's forces.
Li Yuan had taken a blade meant for He Renxiao, had smiled even as the light faded from his eyes, had whispered, "At least you'll live, didi. At least you'll—"
"Shut Up!"
But He Renxiao hadn't lived. Not really. He'd survived long enough to watch everything burn, long enough to be taken as Mo Shuyi's trophy, long enough to endure months of—
His former shixiong—former tormentor, former obsession—rode in silence, occasionally exchanging quiet words with Lan Qiang.
There was something careful in the way Mo Shuyi moved, as if he were constantly testing the weight of his own body, the reach of his own limbs. As if he, too, were inhabiting a form that didn't quite fit.
Stop, He Renxiao commanded himself. Stop looking for patterns that aren't there. Stop seeing shadows of the past in every gesture. This is a new life. Things can be different.
But could they? If Mo Shuyi truly remembered, if he carried the same burden of knowledge, the same weight of a life already lived—what would that mean? Would he make the same choices? Follow the same dark path? Or would he, like He Renxiao, try to change things?
And if he did remember... Did he recall what he'd done? The months He Renxiao had spent as his prisoner, the casual cruelties, the systematic breaking of everything He Renxiao had been? Did Mo Shuyi lie awake at night, as He Renxiao did, haunted by memories of things that had happened and yet hadn't?
Li Yuan paused and just stared at his younger half brother. He Renxiao also stared at him in turn, saying nothing. He suddenly felt self conscious and looked down. "Sorry.."
The sun continued its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. The pine trees grew thicker, their shadows longer, and the temperature dropped noticeably. He Renxiao pulled his outer robe tighter around himself, grateful for the warmth.
"There," Lan Qiang said suddenly, pointing ahead. "The Weeping Willow Inn."
"Do you smell that?" Mo Shuyi's voice carried back to them, and He Renxiao realized he wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Their eldest shixiong had finally turned in his saddle, his dark eyes scanning the tree line with an intensity that made He Renxiao's stomach clench.
He remembers too, a traitorous voice whispered in his mind. Or at least, some part of him does.
"Smell what, Shixiong?" Li Yuan asked, his tone still light but his posture subtly shifting to something more alert.
"Blood," Lan Qiang answered before Mo Shuyi could respond. Their master had drawn his horse to a complete stop, his head tilted as if listening to something beyond normal hearing. "Old blood. And something else."
He Renxiao felt his heart rate quicken. This wasn't how it had happened before. In his past life, they hadn't encountered anything unusual until they'd reached Pine Frost Village itself. The journey there had been uneventful, almost boring in its normalcy. But now…
"Should we investigate, Shizun?" Mo Shuyi had already begun to dismount, his hand moving to the sword at his waist with practiced ease.
Lan Qiang was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. When he spoke, his voice carried an odd quality—as if he were remembering something rather than deciding something. "No. Whatever happened here is long past. We continue to the inn. But stay alert."
"Yes, Shizun," the three disciples chorused, though He Renxiao noticed Mo Shuyi's hand remained on his sword hilt even as he remounted.
They rode in relative silence after that, the easy camaraderie from before replaced by a watchful tension. Even Li Yuan had stopped his teasing, his eyes scanning the shadows between the trees with unusual seriousness, like he was expecting something...
He Renxiao found himself grateful for Ming Yu's steady gait now, as it allowed him to focus on their surroundings rather than staying mounted.
The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon when the trees finally started to thin, revealing a winding dirt road that showed signs of regular travel.
"Renxiao." Shizun's voice startled him from his thoughts. Lan Qiang had dismounted and was looking up at him with an expression of gentle amusement. "You'll need to get off the horse to go inside."
He Renxiao felt heat rise to his cheeks as he realized the others had all dismounted while he'd been lost in thought. Even Ming Yu seemed to be judging him, turning his head to fix He Renxiao with one large, unimpressed eye.
"Of course, Shizun. I was just... observing the inn's defensive positions," He Renxiao improvised badly as he attempted to dismount with some grace. He managed to get his leg over the saddle without incident, but his landing was less successful—his legs, stiff from the long ride, nearly buckled beneath him.
A hand caught his elbow, steadying him, though causing He Renxiao to flinch badly. He Renxiao looked up to find Mo Shuyi beside him, his expression unreadable.
"Careful, Renxiao," Mo Shuyi said quietly. There was something in his voice—concern? warning?—that He Renxiao couldn't quite identify.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, He Renxiao could have sworn he saw something flicker in Mo Shuyi's gaze, but it was gone before he could be certain of what it meant, replaced by the same calm composure his eldest shixiong always wore.
"Thank you, Shixiong," He Renxiao managed, gently extracting his arm from Mo Shuyi's grip. His skin tingled where they'd touched, and not in a pleasant way. It was the same sensation he'd felt when touching cursed objects—a wrongness that set his teeth on edge.
He doesn't remember, He Renxiao told himself firmly. He can't remember. If he did, he'd have killed me already.
But even as he thought it, doubt gnawed at him. Because if he had been reborn with his memories intact, and if Shizun sometimes looked at him as if he knew more than he should, then why couldn't Mo Shuyi have been reborn as well?
"Come," Lan Qiang said, breaking the moment. "Let's secure rooms for the night. Li Yuan, Mo Shuyi, Renxiao, come with me."
He Renxiao looked up and felt his breath catch. The inn sat nestled at the base of a small hill, exactly as he remembered it.
A two-story building with weathered wooden walls and a gently sloping roof, surrounded by—as its name suggested—several ancient willow trees whose branches swayed in the evening breeze like dancers. Warm light glowed from the windows, promising food and rest.
In his past life, he'd thought it looked welcoming. Peaceful. He'd had no idea it was already marked for destruction.
"It looks warm," Li Yuan said cheerfully. "I hope they have hot soup. And maybe those steamed buns with the pork filling? Oh, and—"
"A-Yuan, you think with your stomach," Mo Shuyi said, and there was something almost fond in his tone. He Renxiao's head snapped up, startled. Mo Shuyi rarely spoke to Li Yuan directly anymore, and when he did, it was usually to correct or instruct. But this... this sounded almost like the way an older brother might tease a younger one.
Li Yuan laughed. "And you think with your sword, shixiong. We all have our priorities."
They dismounted in the inn's courtyard, where a young stable boy rushed out to take their horses. He Renxiao slid down from Ming Yu's back with considerably more grace than he'd mounted, though his legs felt slightly unsteady after hours of riding. The horse snorted at him, and He Renxiao could have sworn it was judgmental.
"Behave," he muttered to Ming Yu, who flicked his tail dismissively.
"Still making friends everywhere you go, I see," Li Yuan teased, joining him.
Before He Renxiao could respond, the inn's door opened and a woman emerged—elderly, with silver hair bound in a neat bun and eyes that crinkled with genuine warmth. The innkeeper.
Behind her came a younger woman, perhaps in her early twenties, carrying a lantern.
"Welcome, welcome!" the innkeeper called out. "Cultivators, yes? We're honored to host you. I am Madam Chen, and this is my daughter, Chen Hua. Please, come in, come in. The evening grows cold."
He Renxiao watched them. These two women had died in his previous life without ever knowing why. He had watched them die. He Renxiao never took the time to actually get to know them. Chen Hua smiled shyly at them, her gaze lingering perhaps a moment longer on Mo Shuyi before she ducked her head.
In his past life, she'd done the same thing. Had developed a small, harmless crush on the handsome young cultivator who'd stayed at her mother's inn. And though it made He Renxiao a little upset, who was he to tell her not to?
She'd never gotten the chance to outgrow it.
"We're grateful for your hospitality," Lan Qiang said, bowing respectfully despite his higher status. "We require rooms for the night, and if possible, a meal."
"Of course, of course! We have rooms prepared. And my daughter makes the most wonderful soup—pork and winter melon, perfect for a cold evening like this."
Li Yuan's face lit up, and even Mo Shuyi's expression softened slightly. They filed into the inn, which was just as cozy inside as it appeared from without. The main room held several tables, a large hearth with a fire crackling merrily, and stairs leading to the upper floor.
The scent of cooking food made He Renxiao's stomach clench with sudden hunger—he'd been too lost in his thoughts to eat much during their brief stops.
As Madam Chen bustled about, showing them to their rooms and promising food within the hour, He Renxiao found himself studying every corner of the inn. Looking for weaknesses in the structure, points where wards would be most effective, places where whatever darkness had consumed Pine Frost Village might try to enter.
This had become an unhealthy habit of his, ever since what happened to his mother and Feng Wangji..
"Stop brooding and come sit," Li Yuan called from where he'd claimed a table near the fire. "You're making the room feel gloomy."
He Renxiao moved to join the others, settling onto the bench across from him. Mo Shuyi was already seated at the same table, which was unusual—in his past life, Mo Shuyi had often kept himself apart, maintaining the distance expected of one of the head disciples.
But here he was, close enough that He Renxiao could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw.
"The innkeeper's daughter keeps looking at you, shixiong," Li Yuan said with a grin, apparently having noticed Chen Hua's shy glances. "I think you've made a conquest."
Mo Shuyi's expression didn't change. "Don't be foolish."
"I'm not being foolish! She's pretty, and she clearly—"
"A-Yuan." Mo Shuyi's voice was flat. "Leave it alone."
And there he went. How he normally was with Li Yuan, snappy.. The sharpness of the response made Li Yuan blink, surprised. He Renxiao watched the exchange carefully, noting the way Mo Shuyi's hands had clenched slightly on the table, the way his gaze had gone distant.
He doesn't want to form attachments, He Renxiao realized with a jolt. He's keeping himself separate on purpose. But why?
Was it because Mo Shuyi remembered what he would become? What would he do? Was he trying to protect people from himself, or simply maintaining emotional distance for some other reason?
Before the awkward silence could stretch too long, Chen Hua herself appeared with a large tray laden with bowls of steaming soup, fresh rice, and several dishes of vegetables and meat. She set them out with practiced efficiency, though her hands trembled slightly when she placed Mo Shuyi's bowl before him.
"Please, enjoy," she said softly. "If you need anything else, just call."
"Thank you," Lan Qiang said warmly from where he'd joined them at the table. "It smells wonderful."
Chen Hua blushed with pleasure and hurried away. Li Yuan immediately dug into his food with enthusiasm, making happy noises that drew a reluctant smile from their Shizun.
Mo Shuyi ate mechanically, as if food were merely fuel rather than something to be enjoyed. And He Renxiao... He Renxiao found himself staring at his soup, at the chunks of tender pork and winter melon floating in the rich broth, and feeling his throat tighten.
The food smelt amazing.. But He Renxiao had a sensitive nose.. This hadn't happened in his past life but it didn't seem right..
But not only that, In his past life, this had been one of his last truly peaceful meals. After this, everything had spiraled into darkness and death and pain. After this, nothing had ever been simple again.
"Renxiao." Lan Qiang's voice rang out again, gentle but firm. "Eat."
He Renxiao picked up his chopsticks with hands that only trembled slightly. The soup was delicious, just as he remembered, but it tasted like ashes in his mouth. He forced himself to eat anyway, to maintain the appearance of normalcy, to not draw more concern than he already had.
Mo Shuyi''s eyes seemed to bear into him as he did, making a shiver run down He Renxiao's spine. He didn't eat fuck more than a few bites and a piece of bread.
The conversation flowed around him—Li Yuan chattering about this and that, Lan Qiang responding with patient amusement, Mo Shuyi offering occasional terse comments. Normal. This was normal. This was how things should be, how they'd been before everything went wrong.
But He Renxiao couldn't shake the feeling that he was sitting at a table with ghosts. That he was the only one truly alive here, the only one carrying the weight of a future that might still come to pass despite his best efforts to prevent it.
No, he told himself firmly. This time will be different. I'll make sure of it.
After the meal, as promised, Lan Qiang led them outside to set the wards. The night had fully fallen, and the stars spread across the sky like scattered diamonds. The willow trees rustled in the breeze, their branches creating shifting patterns of shadow and moonlight.
"Renxiao, show us what you've learned," Lan Qiang instructed.
He Renxiao stepped forward, grateful for something concrete to focus on. He began to trace the ward patterns in the air with his spiritual energy, drawing on knowledge from both
lives—the formations he'd studied in the sect library in this timeline, and the more advanced techniques he'd learned during the desperate years of war in his previous one.
Spells and arrays like this were simple to pass through knowledge of both lives because it didn't necessarily involve needing the physical capabilities he once had.
The wards took shape around the inn, invisible lines of power that would alert them to any hostile presence and provide a measure of protection. He wove them carefully, meticulously, pouring perhaps more energy into them than strictly necessary. But this was important. This had to work.
Li Yuan and Mo Shuyi watched in silence. Lan Qiang observed with the keen eye of a teacher, occasionally offering a quiet correction or suggestion. And slowly, the protective net grew, encompassing the entire building and its immediate surroundings.
When He Renxiao finally finished, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort, Lan Qiang nodded approvingly.
"Well done. These are strong wards, stronger than I expected from someone of your cultivation level. You've been practicing."
"Yes, Shizun." He Renxiao bowed, trying to ignore the way his hands shook slightly from spiritual energy depletion. The mention of 'stronger than someone of your cultivation level' made He Renxiao uncomfortable, like he was doing something wrong, though ideally he knew he wasn't.
"They're very thorough," Mo Shuyi said suddenly, his voice thoughtful. "Almost as if you're expecting a specific type of threat."
He Renxiao's heart skipped a beat. He turned to look at his shixiong, but Mo Shuyi's expression was unreadable in the darkness, his face half-shadowed by the willow branches.
"This disciple simply wished to be prepared for anything," He Renxiao said carefully.
"Mm." Mo Shuyi continued to study the wards with an intensity that made He Renxiao's skin prickle. "Interesting."
Lan Qiang clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "Excellent work, all of you. Now, let's get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
They filed back inside, where Madam Chen showed them to their rooms on the upper floor. He Renxiao and Li Yuan were to share one room, Mo Shuyi and Lan Qiang took the second. Standard arrangements for traveling cultivators.
As He Renxiao prepared for bed, changing into his sleeping robes and laying out his belongings, Li Yuan kept up a steady stream of conversation. His brother had always been like this—filling silences with words, unable to bear quiet for too long. In his past life, He Renxiao had sometimes found it annoying. Now, he treasured every moment of it, every proof that Li Yuan was alive and whole and here.
"—and make sure you stay close to me, dad was clear he wants me to take care of you, and I'll be damned if you got lost like the stray mutt you are," Li Yuan said, also preparing his bed with quiet precision.
The room was simple but clean, with two mats laid out on the floor and a small window that looked out over the courtyard.
Li Yuan flopped down onto his own mat with a satisfied sigh. He went through phases a lot where he would tease, scold, and hate He Renxiao, but it was clear he still cared.. He was still jealous, no matter how much he wasted to disagree. "It's nice, y'know? Being out on a mission, just the four of us. Feels important. Like we're real cultivators now, not just students."
You have no idea, He Renxiao thought. No idea how important this mission is, or how dangerous, or how many lives hang in the balance.
"Yes," he said aloud. "It's nice."
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the inn settling for the night—creaking floorboards, distant voices, the whisper of wind through the willow trees. He Renxiao stared at the ceiling, his mind racing despite his body's exhaustion.
Tomorrow they would continue toward Pine Frost Village. Tomorrow they would begin to uncover the mystery that had claimed so many lives in his previous timeline. Tomorrow he would have to face the Cave of Souls again, and the spirit girl who had given him Li Yu, and the trials that had forged them all into weapons.
But tonight, for just this moment, they were safe. The inn was protected. His brother breathed peacefully beside him. Lan Qiang slept in the next room, whole and unbroken. And Mo Shuyi…
Mo Shuyi was still an unknown variable, a question He Renxiao didn't know how to answer.
He Renxiao closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his dreams, when they finally came, were filled with fire and blood and the sound of Mo Shuyi's laughter echoing through empty halls.
He woke several times throughout the night, each time checking the wards with a pulse of spiritual energy, confirming that they held strong. Each time, he found everything secure, the inn peaceful, no threats approaching.
It wasn't until the fourth time he woke, in the deepest part of the night when even the stars seemed to hold their breath, that he felt it—a faint disturbance in the wards. Not a breach, exactly. More like something testing them, probing for weaknesses with delicate, almost curious touches.
He Renxiao got up and gave up on sleeping, slipping on his normal robes and grabbing his sword. He slipped out of the room he shared with Li Yuan like a thief in the night and left the Inn for some late night practice.