At the Green Jade Peaks, there were two ways to enter seclusion.

The first was to hole up inside of one’s private quarters to meditate or sulk.

The second was to do the same, except inside one of the many caves or tunnels found within the Green Jade Peaks.

Originally, only a few caves had existed. However, over time, an extensive tunnel system had been dug into the mountains by cultivators seeking jade or greater solitude, and now, the main peak hid a massive underground maze – and it was forbidden to everyone but a select few.

It hadn’t always been that way though.

Once, anyone had been allowed to venture inside – and many had, looking to break through some bottleneck in their cultivation. Many had succeeded too, but far too many had failed, and oftentimes with dreadful consequences.

Yi Yeguang had almost been one of the latter – and as such, one of his first actions upon taking office had been to restrict access to the area; a decision long overdue and among the few that he’d never regretted making.

He hadn’t been down there since then – hadn’t seen the point in reliving any of it. He’d been a fool to go down there in the first place, and he’d realised this only once he’d become helplessly lost and found himself surrounded from all sides by cold rock and a darkness far denser than that of the night.

Even now, the mere memory made him shiver. This might’ve just been due to this place’s ever-present draught however.

Besides, this time around, things were different. This time around, Yi Yeguang wasn’t stumbling around in the dark, desperately searching for a way back to the surface. This time around, he was instead heading away from it, walking at a pace that was neither sedate nor rushed, making his way deeper underground with the thrice-cursed sword on his hip – because that was indeed where it hung, seeing that Yi Yeguang had ultimately decided against bringing the whole container along.

Besides, the container hadn’t stopped the sword from hurting him, and with Yi Yeguang now bearing its brand, what more could it do? A lot of things, Yi Yeguang privately assumed. However, so far, the thing had only kept up with its quiet hum of energy. It seemed almost pleased, and wasn’t that a novel concept? Honestly⸺

Putting his hand to the wall, Yi Yeguang sent out just enough qi to light up the path ahead of him. Because although subpar light conditions generally weren’t such a great obstacle, this place was one that screwed with the senses, saturated with latent energy as it was.

The latter inevitably resulted in people stumbling upon unexpected obstacles in the dark – like the shaft Yi Yeguang had once fallen into, adding a broken ankle and a head injury to the increasing direness of his situation.

But then⸺

Off in the distance, the walls had lit up, emitting a ghostly green glow – and this glow had soon come closer, accompanying a figure that soon stood before him, staring down at him with cold, glacial eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing down here?”

A smattering of scathing remarks had soon followed, both before and after the other had tended to Yi Yeguang’s injuries.

Yi Yeguang had been far too grateful to be offended however – far too relieved to even think such thoughts. Then, he’d struggled to keep up with the other’s brisk pace, watching that long and pale hair sway back and forth ahead of him.

Even now, Yi Yeguang remembered this – he remembered the burn of his lungs and eyes, and the way that his heart had pounded against his breastbone, his throat constricting as he noticed himself falling farther and farther behind.

He remembered it – remembered his desperation to escape that suffocating darkness. Also, having seen such light, how could he have kept from chasing it?

It had been difficult though, and frustrating as well – and it had ultimately brought tears to his eyes and a scornful twist to the other’s lips.

“If you don’t stop crying, then I’m going to leave you here. I’ve got no patience for crying children.”

However, Yi Yeguang hadn’t quite managed to stop the sobs from rocking his frame, but then⸺

A hand had landed atop his head, grabbing onto a fistful of hair, and then⸺

“Just this once, I’ll tolerate you, and you’ll tell me who brought you here. Then, we’ll never speak of this again. Understood?”

Naturally, Yi Yeguang had agreed – he’d happily agreed to all of it, because he’d been saved. He’d also been determined to do better – to repay this debt – and he had. He’d worked hard, determined to make the other finally acknowledge his efforts or even his presence, but⸺ he hadn’t. Instead of giving Yi Yeguang the time of day, Peak Lord Bai had brought back a child and claimed them as his disciple, leaving him to seethe quietly at the unfairness of it all.

Because being saved hadn’t humbled Yi Yeguang in the longer term, no. Instead, it had left him with something else – with a sense of entitlement – a belief that since Peak Lord Bai had saved him, then the other had also agreed to take responsibility for him.

However, instead of resenting the Peak Lord for this seeming betrayal, Yi Yeguang had turned his bitterness towards another – towards the perceived usurper. And then⸺

Even now, Yi Yeguang vividly remembered it; that sudden rush of vindication. Because although Bai Jixue had decided to turn a blind eye to his efforts, Sect Leader Yi had not, and had instead chosen him. The Sect Leader had chosen Yi Yeguang, giving him not just a place at his side but also a name – a surname, to be exact, making Yi Yeguang not just ‘Yeguang’ but ‘Yi Yeguang’!

Oh, he’d been so happy about it all, so happy and so eager to please – so very eager to please, and so incredibly easy to use. Because having earned the other’s favour, he’d obviously been afraid of losing it – because if the Sect Leader decided to abandon him as well, then what would he have left?

In hindsight, it seemed like such a foolish thing to worry about, but⸺

He stopped, leaning more heavily against the wall. He wasn’t even that far down yet, and he was already finding it difficult to breathe. This had less to do with the cave though, and more to do with him.

They burned – his eyes, his throat, his chest – and although Yi Yeguang wanted to cry, he laughed; a cracked, humourless sound rising from his throat to echo in-between the walls and farther beyond even after it had left him wheezing, then retching.

In the fading green light, the blood looked even blacker than expected. But maybe that was just an effect of his own vision, which was steadily darkening around the edges? Yi Yeguang pushed back against it though – pushed back against the surging vertigo and the darkness and the sword’s seeming effort to take him down once and for all. Because it was far too early for him to fall; he needed to go deeper – far, far deeper.

If anyone happened upon him now, then odds were that they would try to help him – and that they would suffer the consequences if they did. Yi Yeguang obviously couldn’t have that. This was a result of his own mistakes after all, and this was in-between him and Founder Yi’s blade, and⸺

He straightened back up, leaning away from the blood as he folded his uncooperative legs into a meditative pose. Then, he gradually forced his seizing lungs to get back to work.

Fortunately, Yi Yeguang knew exactly which acupoints to strike in order to temporarily halt the flow of qi; Bai Jixue might not have wanted him as a student, but the other had still taught him that much.

As a matter of fact, both the current and the former Peak Lord Bai had taught Yi Yeguang a lot of things – both about cultivation and about other things. One didn’t need to be an official disciple to learn – just overcome one’s pride and ask, or simply just attend the general sessions that everyone could take part in.

Yi Yeguang had done both, slowly but steadily inching his way closer. He’d done so, and then finally realised that Mingyue was a prodigy, and Yi Yeguang had stood no chance of overcoming him to begin with.

Things could’ve ended there – with realisation and acceptance. Things could’ve ended there, but⸺

Master Yi had had other plans, and none of those in the know had seen it fit to interfere with them – and Yi Yeguang resented them almost as much as he resented himself for becoming an accomplice.

Because the latter, Yi Yeguang understood. He’d been in a vulnerable position, too caught up in Master Yi’s web. This obviously didn’t excuse his actions, because he should’ve known better. Still⸺

Former Peak Lord Jiao had known – the other had to have known, given his actions and insinuations both before and after the fact. He’d had to have known – if not the full extent of it then certainly enough – and he’d done nothing, and Yi Yeguang resented him for that.

Looking at it now however, perhaps Yi Yeguang had been too quick to pass judgement – or rather, too quick to shift the blame. After all, the other Peak Lords could’ve hardly been completely oblivious as to what had been going on, and yet, they’d done nothing, and as such, they were all complicit.

Ah, why? Why had Yi Yeguang put up with this?

Indeed, he’d done Master Yi’s bidding. Indeed, he’d ultimately betrayed what fragile trust Bai Jixue had placed in him in allowing him to get that close to his disciple. Indeed, he’d been complicit, and indeed he’d been a very useful tool – he’d been a very useful tool right up until he wasn’t.

Master Yi had been surprised – surprised and enraged – when Yi Yeguang had finally opposed him. But he’d also been amused, taunting him about the futility of it all – as if Yi Yeguang hadn’t already been aware.

But then Bai Jixue had arrived and snapped Master Yi’s neck like a toothpick, and Yi Yeguang had immediately found peace with it, even knowing a similar fate soon awaited him, because his life was already forfeit. And yet⸺

Dropping the limp body of the Sect Leader, Bai Jixue had cast a final glance in their direction, and then vanished in a flash of light, leaving behind nothing save for a pale, glowing feather – and Yi Yeguang had taken it.

He’d taken it and hidden it away, meaning to pass it on to Mingyue once the latter had calmed down a bit. But in the end, he hadn’t, having grown far too attached to it in the meantime. And even now, he remained attached to it – he’d even brought it with him to this place.

In truth, it was a foolish attachment. It was a foolish attachment, because Bai Jixue had only ever really cared about two individuals; his disciple – Mingyue – whom he clearly cherished, and his fellow Peak Lord – Jiao Zilei – whom he clearly wanted to maim.

However, it wasn’t completely hopeless, given that Bai Jixue had apparently expanded the number of people that he conceivably cared about since then. Because he had a husband now and children as well, and while the former could conceivably be of lesser importance, the children had to be⸺

Well, even if Yi Yeguang found the other’s decision to send the children to the Green Jade Peaks questionable, he also understood – understood that they likely had their reasons.

Protection seemed like the most obvious reason, even if Yi Yeguang wondered if revenge might’ve also played some part of it, given Princess Hónglián’s wandering habits. Still, considering past events, one would’ve thought that Bai Jixue would be a lot more wary of leaving any of his kin anywhere near the Green Jade Peaks.

At the same time though, while the children were definitely young and impressionable and quite weak by the standards of their species, they were hardly defenceless – Princess Hónglián in particular.

Besides, Yi Yeguang rather doubted that there’d be much of a need for them to defend themselves, because Mingyue was there and even when he wasn’t, there were others. Hell, if push came to shove, even Yi Yeguang would⸺

Oh.

The realisation made his heart start beating a bit faster, and it was probably a good thing that no one could see him right at this moment, smiling with blood and bile still trailing down his chin.

Bai Jixue might not have returned to the Green Jade Peaks. But the fact that he had allowed both his treasured disciple and his young children to remain here had to be a good sign. It had to mean that at the very least, Yi Yeguang’s efforts hadn’t been in vain. Maybe, just maybe⸺

He gradually picked himself up, and then picked up the sheathed sword lying next to him. It made the stabbing pain in his dantian worse, but he didn’t care; he had to finish this. He had to finish this, and then he had to come back and be ready.

It was time now, time to finish this and then time to let go.