bgm: fight

Shitshitshit—

Nan Wuyue’s curses piled on top of each other as he finally connected the dots.

Foxes.

Two hundred years ago, the Three Realms War had pitted celestial cultivators, Yao, and demons of the Middle, Lower, and Demon Realms against each other in a fight for dominance. Although the details of that fight were lost to time, he knew that the celestial and demonic sects had come to an unofficial truce before the end and wiped out the Yao tribes between them. Amongst them the one who suffered the most were the yaojing foxes, powerful enough to take on human forms and universally acknowledged as the ruler of all the Yao.

Centuries passed without a word from their race. It was said that the last Fox King died in the final battle while defending his kin and only the Wolf King of the north had stepped in to help him. After they fell, even their corpses were torn to shreds in the ensuing massacre. And yet despite all odds, a new Fox King emerged from nowhere in Nan Wuyue’s future. Rumors had it he had simply been lying in wait while amassing his strength. As a powerful yaojing, his human form had the distinctive snow-white hair of all nine-tailed foxes in the royal line.

The more tails, the more power. It’s no wonder they cut them off the statues.

The old Nan Wuyue had tried to make overtures to the Fox Tribe multiple times in hopes of becoming allies, but was rejected every time. It was said the new Fox King had equal distaste for demonic and celestial cultivators alike after what they did to his kinsmen during the war.

Wait, white hair?

Nan Wuyue immediately thought of Su Shiyu and his distinctive shock of snowy strands—if the man was still Su Shiyu at this point. Fox yao were adept at transformation and disguise. If the true Su Shiyu had simply died after his fall over the cliff and was replaced by a still-recovering Fox King in hiding, then everything that had happened to the Su Clan since then could be a result of the imposter’s machinations.

His heart chilled. How old was the Fox King? He didn’t recover his throne by merely announcing his presence. What if they were forced to face off against enemies that they couldn’t defeat? The idea was suicidal. With him and his Master—even the aid of that Su Shimeng, whom they’d have to convince to their side first—they didn’t stand a chance. He should send a message to the sect now to ask for help while stalling the situation as much as they could.

But is there any time left?

The theft of yang energy. The corrupted jade. All those deaths on the day of the Ghost Festival. Nan Wuyue had an ugly feeling that everything was drawing to a close very soon.

Had Su Shimeng disappeared because he found out the truth and didn’t escape in time? The fox statues here obviously meant they were in Yao territory. Suppose they just packed up and retreated? If they left, they might stand a chance to live another day. As for everyone else...Nan Wuyue didn’t count them into the equation of their own survival. His thoughts were broken by ominous rumbling overhead. Looking up, Nan Wuyue saw dense, angry-looking clouds tinged with hints of red, like blood.

Those clouds don’t look right, either.

On a whim, Nan Wuyue whipped out his sword and flew up to investigate. He’d hardly gotten close when an overwhelming pressure nearly sent him falling off his weapon mid-flight.

A barrier! Freezing cold entered his veins as Nan Wuyue retreated posthaste. Still, he couldn’t help glimpsing what looked like emaciated outlines of faces in the clouds. He quickly flew around to trace the borders of the sinister, roiling mass and found that it extended to the very edges of Su Manor grounds and beyond to the road that led to town. Anytime he tried to get close, the choking aura of death threatened to freeze him whole, sending him backpedaling in a hurry.

This is...Shroud of the Dead?

He’d heard of this spell before in the Demon Realms. One gathered the resentment of dying souls and weaved them into a web that could cover anything with pure yin energy. But how many dead did it take to weave a web wide enough to blanket the entire sky?! Even if tonight was the Ghost Festival where spirits were strongest, how was possible to gather so many in such a short time? 

Nan Wuyue staggered just thinking about the numbers. At this rate, it would require half a sect’s worth of cultivators with tremendous strength or pure yang energy to dispel the Shroud. The first was an impossibility, which meant they were likely stuck until tomorrow noon at the earliest, when the sun could banish the last vestiges of ghostly energy. He pulled out the origami boat and was on the verge of calling for help when he stopped.

Their enemy hadn’t tried to hide anything they’d done so far, so they clearly didn’t care about being caught. What if he alerted his master at a bad time with news of everything he’d discovered?

Su Shiyu isn’t back yet and Bai Tingyao’s still waiting for us in the hall. There’s at least one Yao and probably a demon involved in this plot. Nan Wuyue thought. We can’t afford to act rash. I’ll warn shizun in person.

Whoever was behind this hadn’t targeted them yet. Nan Wuyue wasn’t naive to think they would escape unscathed, but foxes had always been creatures of logic behind their deceit. Rather than force a battle they couldn’t win, perhaps they could seek out alternatives through rhetoric.

He carefully replaced the paper folding in his robes and turned back towards Su Manor—which was when he was attacked.

Shwp shwp!

Nan Wuyue leaned back sharply as two razor-sharp projectiles flew past him in the dark. He pinpointed the weapons as coming from below and immediately dived towards his assailant, straining to see in the dark. Something long and slender lashed up at him—a whip?—and Nan Wuyue immediately swerved sideways, doing a 360 degree turn on his blade to avoid an incoming lash. The whip ended up brushing against the front of his robes but didn’t do any damage.

He landed in the outer courtyard seconds later, his sword flying into his hand as he squinted in the murky twilight. Although his half-demon bloodline was supposed to give him better night vision, he had yet to awaken it in this timeline. Abruptly, he sensed movement again and leaped aside just as something thrashed against the courtyard wall, sending pieces of rubble flying everywhere.

Tch, it’s just wasting my time. 

He reached into his robes for Mo Yixuan’s origami boat, only to come up empty-handed. The next second he heard a crinkling noise and looked up to see something in the shadows waving the piece of paper around. 

“You—!” Nan Wuyue realized the creature must have stolen from him in mid-air and stepped forward, but the thing just tossed the boat behind it into the gardens before throwing some dirt on top for added insult.

Fine, then I’ll just head back myself.

Nan Wuyue first slashed out with his sword as a distraction, then activated Ghost of the Vermillion Bird Mansion to hide his presence. But he’d hardly ran more than a few steps before more dark, vine-line appendages exploded from the ground to block his way.

It can sense me even through the cloaking?

That meant Ghost was either ineffective or too low-leveled to deal with his enemy. Gritting his teeth, Nan Wuyue switched to the Azure Dragon form and nimbly stepped out of the way, slicing at the errant vines that chased after him. As they fell to the ground, Nan Wuyue saw a few clusters of yellow flowers blooming at the tips.

A plant? No, wait—it’s a Yao who retained its original body—a yaoguai?

Right as the thought passed through his head, more projectiles came flying his way, forcing Nan Wuyue to sidestep them once again. A couple caught in his sleeves and made him look down; he recognized them in the dim light as tiny, fleshy green leaves.

“In the end, you’re just an overgrown weed!”

If he had his old arsenal of skills, he could simply burn this plant to shreds. As things stood, Nan Wuyue wasn’t even sure if he could fight this thing to a tie. His eyes flickered between the wall of vines in front of him and the shadowy mass that stood waiting in a corner of the courtyard as he dodged and fought. In the end, he took a few steps back to catch his breath, but the plant didn’t follow.

Is its reach restricted to a certain distance?

Nan Wuyue immediately tested his theory by heading towards the inner courtyard from a different direction. Immediately, a new wall of vines grew up to block his way. He tried a few more locations and got the same result, then tried flying up before he was buffeted back down by a storm of leaves whose edges burned and numbed on contact when they sliced his skin.

No, it can grow new vines at will. Rather than restricting itself, it just wants to trap me in this courtyard.

Nan Wuyue suddenly drew out a signal flare from his spatial storage ring and launched it in the air before the vines could stop it. Within Su Manor grounds, the sound of its whistle would be impossible to ignore. But despite the familiar strident screech, no Mo Yixuan appeared after the flare flickered out.

Nan Wuyue’s expression darkened. He took out a second signal flare and tried again—nothing. The plant yao rustled around him as if amused. When it saw Nan Wuyue take out a third flare and strengthen it with his qi, it almost seemed to laugh with how hard its leaves and flowers shook.

Until Nan Wuyue threw the last flaming flare directly at the closest cluster of vines.

He might not have fire or any special weapons on hand, but the signal flare burned plenty hot. With the addition of Nan Wuyue’s qi, it soon roared into a conflagration that ate up the vines to ashes. The teen felt more than heard the shriek of rage as leaves and vines beat a hasty retreat from the heat. Sensing a chance, Nan Wuyue threw his sword to the ground before stepping on top of it. He flew straight at the smoldering embers, seeking a passage out. 

Immediately, more vines broke through the courtyard to stop him, but Nan Wuyue simply summoned a signal flare in each hand and infused them both with qi-strengthened fire. As the vines drew near, he slashed back with fiery arcs of fury, transforming himself into a flying firestorm as he fought against his foes. Against the backdrop of gray walls and darkening skies, he was like a violet flower blooming above a crescending wave of ugly black, raining sparks above the writhing mass that sought to entrap him.

Just beyond the courtyard walls, the fox statue remained perched over the cremation pit, its eyes glowing scarlet in the dark as it bore silent witness to the struggle between the two.

—

Mo Yixuan and Su Shimeng entered the main hall just beneath dark clouds and were met with a wave of welcoming warmth. Inside, Bai Tingyao had just finished lighting the incense on a makeshift altar at the head of the room. A full spread of lotus flowers, fruit, and other food lined the pretty table, but there were no memorial tablets above the offerings. Instead, only a blank scroll hung against the wall. Next to her, Ting’er was busy bending over to straighten out some of the blossoms. The familiar scent of peonies and medicine filled the air, mixed with the muskier fragrance of sandalwood.

“Big sis?” Su Shimeng looked perplexed. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, Mengmeng!” Bai Tingyao turned to them brightly. “And Daoist Mo, welcome. This is all for the ancestors’ sake. It’s been such an eventful day I thought they’d be appeased with some extra offerings, especially on this night.”

“But the memorial tablets are all in the ancestral hall,” Su Shimeng pointed out. “Which ancestors are these for?”

“The oldest ones,” Bai Tingyao said somberly. “After something so serious, we need to pay them proper respects.”

As she went on to lecture Su Shimeng about particulars, Mo Yixuan scanned the room and didn’t see Nan Wuyue anywhere. Assuming the boy was still investigating, he approached Ting’er but was stopped by Su Shimeng.

“Hey,” the youth quickly grabbed him by the sleeve. “What now?”

“I have more questions to ask,” Mo Yixuan glanced back. For example, did she ever visit the jade mines on her own?

“We’re doing it my way this time,” Su Shimeng rolled his eyes. “Hold on a minute.”

As Mo Yixuan looked on, Su Shimeng shook his sleeves. Instantly, three slender chains with hooks on their ends flew out from the depths—Mo Yixuan recognized them as the same chains he’d fought against when facing Su Shimeng last night, except much smaller. The trio met in mid-air and connected at the tips, leaving their hooks dangling down. With a snap of his fingers, Su Shimeng produced three more items: a round, brassy plate, a long golden rod with even notches like a ruler, and a small but substantial weight attached to a length of string. 

The three hooks at the end of the chains naturally attached themselves to the plate while their other end wrapped around the metal rod; the weight on strings also tied itself to the rod along a notch about a third of its length, balancing the plate exactly so the rod rested at a flat angle. Mo Yixuan looked at the setup and suddenly realized it was an ancient weight scale:

“This is Equanimity, a treasure entrusted to me by my master,” Su Shimeng explained as the scale floated in mid-air before him. “It was created by one of the founders of Iridescent Radiance Sect as a judge of truth and falsehoods.”

Mo Yixuan could guess where this was going.

“I have Equanimity judge one target at a time with a yes or no question. If the answer is true, the scale stays in balance. If false—” Su Shimeng pressed on the plate to demonstrate, pushing it down. “—the plate sinks.”

“Does it only work when you ask the question?” Mo Yixuan wondered.

“Of course not, but it’s bound to me so no one else can steal it,” Su Shimeng’s eyes flickered to him. “How about it? You can test Equanimity on yourself and then use it on Ting’er when asking your questions. It’ll be an extra guarantee against any lies.”

“Has Ting’er done anything wrong?” Bai Tingyao’s worried tones piped up.

Su Shimeng only stared at Mo Yixuan, who shook his head. “I just want to clarify a few things,” he added and returned the stare, “Your scale looks helpful, so I’ll use it, thanks.”

Su Shimeng made a noise of assent before directing the item in front of Mo Yixuan. “Fine, then I’ll ask you a few simple questions so you can see how it works.”

“Sure.” Mo Yixuan was completely cooperative. 

He waited as Su Shimeng chanted something under  his breath before a white light engulfed the scale. The next second, a thin thread of light extended from the empty space above the plate towards his heart. Mo Yixuan forced himself to hold still until the thread connected and felt a faint tremor ripple across his chest. 

“There, I’ve attuned you with Equanimity,” Su Shimeng muttered. “Now answer truthfully: Is your name Mo Yixuan?”

Very basic. But Mo Yixuan nodded and said, “Yes.”

The scale remained balanced.

“Good. Question 2: Are you from Star Pavilion Sect?”

“Yes.” No movement.

“Did you send your disciple away to snoop around the estate?”

Mo Yixuan raised an eyebrow at him, but then looked curiously at the scale and spoke. “No.”

The scale immediately dipped down.

“Liar,” Su Shimeng frowned.

“You caught me,” Mo Yixuan admitted without shame.

“Is there something you’re looking for in particular, Daoist Mo?” Bai Tingyao, who had been watching the pair with interest, spoke up. “Perhaps I could summon the servants to help?”

“No need, he’ll be back soon,” Mo Yixuan rejected cleanly. He turned back to Su Shimeng without missing a beat. “I think I know how it works now. Can we move onto the actual questioning?”

Su Shimeng made a muffled noise in his throat before snapping his fingers. Instantly, Mo Yixuan heard the sound of something snapping before feeling the thread connecting him to the scales break into two. 

“Sis, we need to borrow Ting’er for a second,” he said rather gruffly.

“Of course,” Bai Tingyao agreed. “Ting’er, come over here. Ting’er?”

When no one replied, she looked back to see the servant girl still bent over the lotus flowers, unresponsive. 

“What’s gotten into you, Ting’er?” Bai Tingyao exclaimed, but Mo Yixuan was already moving. Su Shimeng followed him half a second later as they reached the girl at the altar and shook her by the shoulder.

“Hey, are you alrigh—whoa!” 

At his touch, Ting’er toppled over and nearly crashed into the floor before Mo Yixuan caught her limp form in his arms. 

“She’s unconscious,” he muttered before placing a finger beneath her nostrils. “But still breathing.”

“What’s the matter?” Bai Tingyao hurried to them anxiously. “Oh—good gracious, Ting’er fainted?”

Mo Yixuan laid the girl on the ground before scanning her once again. As far as he could see, her body was still operating normally. 

“Perhaps it’s exhaustion?” Bai Tingyao fretted. “Oh, she did look a bit pale when she came in…”

Su Shimeng gave Mo Yixuan an ugly glare which he ignored. Instead, his gaze drifted to Bai Tingyao.

“Since she’s unconscious, maybe you can answer some questions in her place, Lady Bai.”

“I—I can certainly try,” Bai Tingyao looked uncertain. “But shouldn’t we put Ting’er on a bed first? I’ll call for a doctor and some servants to carry her back to her rooms, I really don’t know what’s gotten into her tonight—”

“I’ve checked and she seems fine,” Mo Yixuan cut in. “Please don’t call for anyone just yet. We can rest her over on that divan in the corner of the room.”

“Let me see!” Su Shimeng moved in to test Ting’er’s pulse, then pushed the hand into his sister’s. “Sis, you check too.”

“Right, right—of course, I forget,” Bai Tingyao looked positively sheepish in her role as family physician as she tested the pulse. “Daoist Mo is right, she just seems tired. Perhaps a little rest is all she needs.”

Between all the fussing and moving of the servant girl’s body to the couch in question, Mo Yixuan became acutely aware of Nan Wuyue’s prolonged absence. He was considering summoning the disciple with the qi tendril wrapped around his sword handle when he realized that had already disappeared.

What’s taking him so long?

Mo Yixuan was about to go off and search himself when a servant suddenly announced at the doors, “Sir Su has returned!”

—

Above, the storm clouds raged in silent screams with no promise of release. Below, a pair of servant girls dutifully lit the way for their master with two bright lanterns as he descended from his carriage.

Su Shiyu was tightly wrapped in a thick cloak despite the muggy July weather, his expression cold and his lips drawn into a thin line. Shockingly enough, more of his hair had turned white over the course of the day, leaving only a thin section at the back of his head untouched black. He didn’t respond to any of the greetings from the servants, but merely followed the two points of light illuminating his path through the manor.

Passing through the outer courtyard, one could clearly hear the sounds of battle a few hundred feet away. Something was being thrown against the walls and a harsh, scorched stench hung in the air—not just from the long-burnt bodies, but fresh smoke and flame.

Su Shiyu paid it no mind and kept walking forward.

Upon reaching the inner courtyard, all sounds ceased and the pleasant peony and medicine scent filled the air. The clouds above looked as ominous as ever, but their presence seemed muffled as if separated beyond an invisible wall. The creased brows on Su Shiyu’s forehead relaxed as a result, though his eyes never stopped staring straight ahead. A flicker of light was reflected in the listless pupils as they spotted the well-lit doorway of the main house waiting and open in the distance.

Under his breath, Su Shiyu muttered softly, “I’m home…”

—

{extra}

Weedkiller 101

Nan Wuyue: *whispering* Kill it with fire.
Shi Feng: As with all gardening, you have to start by pulling things out by their roots.
Mo Yixuan: Weeds? Just let them grow, they’re not hurting anyone.
Nan Wuyue: Shizun!
Mo Yixuan: In your case, that’s just karma.
Nan Wuyue: (ಥ﹏ಥ)
Shi Feng: I see, so Ah-Xuan is the type to hold long grudges.