The wind howled through the peaks of the Yuxian Immortal Sect, where a sea of grey clouds clung to the mountain…
PART 2
PRESENT DAY
Inside the Hall of Celestial Reflections, Jiu Ying, the sect’s Second Disciple and also Wuyi and Ji Ling's senior, stood just outside Ji Ling's seal.
She gazed at the jade seal, her eyes dark with longing and bitterness, her fingers brushing against its surface.
A century had passed, and yet Ji Ling’s murmured dreams had not changed. His whispers of Wuyi’s name cut through her heart like a blade.
Time didn't soften things for her. A hundred years later, she was still just as consumed by him as she was a hundred years before.
He was the only thing she saw, the only thing that mattered, and she’d spent a century revolving around him like a moth to a flame.
She had done everything in her power to free him, from studying forbidden arts to making sacrifices that stained her soul.
Yet, even in his confinement, he rejected her.
"Junior, it’s been a hundred years, and yet you still can’t forget about her," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of envy and bitterness.
Her fingers clenched the edge of her robe. "Even now, she holds your heart. What does she have that I lack?"
“Wuyi…” Ji Ling’s voice echoed faintly within the seal, his lips barely moving.
His once-vibrant spirit seemed dim, yet her name escaped him with unwavering devotion.
Jiu Ying’s heart twisted with jealousy. "She’s gone! Why is she still the one in your heart?" she shouted like a mad woman, her voice breaking. "It was her death that destroyed you, that ruined everything we built. And yet, even now, she holds your heart!"
Ji Ling’s silence was more cutting than any blade.
His dreams were of Wuyi, her laughter, her kindness, the way she had been the only one to make him feel human in a life filled with loneliness.
Jiu Ying’s words were like whispers compared to the roaring tide of his grief.
Jiu Ying’s memories flashed before her eyes, of Ji Ling’s cold indifference, of the way his eyes softened only when they met Wuyi’s.
She had been there, always, lurking in the shadows, her love for Ji Ling burning like a cursed flame.
Jiu Ying had always felt invisible next to Wuyi.
A hundred years ago, her schemes had been meticulously executed.
Wuyi, with her effortless charm and boundless talent, had been everything Jiu Ying despised and envied.
But her victory, though complete, had left her hollow.
The memory of Ji Ling's shattered expression after Wuyi’s death haunted her. She had expected him to rise from the ashes, stronger and reliant on her.
Instead, he had crumbled, retreating into a shell of grief that no one, not even their master could penetrate.
His downfall had been her unintended masterpiece, a cruel outcome of her own viciousness.
Something she almost regrets to this day. ALMOST.
Now, as she stood before the jade seal, the price of her obsession pressed down on her. "I did everything for you, Ji Ling," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of regret and bitterness.
Her fingertips hovered over the seal’s surface, feeling the faint vibration of its magic, like a faint heartbeat. "And yet… you still choose her. Even in your dreams."
Her mind raced with memories: the way Ji Ling’s eyes would soften when he looked at Wuyi, the warmth in his voice when he spoke her name.
Jiu Ying had never been on the receiving end of that gaze, that tone. It was a wound that time refused to heal.
"If you would only see me," she murmured, her voice cracking. "If only you could forget her." Her nails dug into her palm.
She knew she should let go, abandon the futile hope that had tied her to the past.
Yet, the thought of Ji Ling’s love, forever unattainable, was the very cage that kept her bound.
Jiu Ying was not a woman who admitted defeat easily.
Her ambition had once toppled mountains; her will had bent the most stubborn of fates.
She believed, perhaps foolishly, that she could rewrite this story too.
If Ji Ling could be freed from the seal, if his memories of Wuyi could be erased, then there would surely be a place for her in his heart.
Her obsession is so strong it turned her delusional.
But the path to such a feat was perilous, and the elders had made it clear that tampering with the forces that bound Ji Ling was forbidden.
The price for such power was steep, and many had tried and failed, losing their lives in the attempt.
Still, Jiu Ying had never been one to let limitations bind her.
In the dead of night, when the world was still, she had ventured into the ancient, forbidden library.
Hidden away in its deepest corner was a collection of books bound in blood-red leather, their pages inscribed with incantations so dark that even the air grew heavy with the scent of death.
But she was unwavering. Her obsession, her desire for Ji Ling, overshadowed any fear of consequences.
She studied the dark arts in secret, pouring over texts that promised to unlock the very forces of life and death.
She learned to bend the laws of nature, to manipulate souls and summon spirits.
A chill ran through her as she recalled the screams of the sacrifices, those poor souls who had been offered up to the rituals she performed in the dead of night.
She had given them no second thought, in her eyes their lives were nothing compared to Ji Lings’.
Each sacrifice had been a step closer to her ultimate goal: to break Ji Ling free from the prison of his own grief, no matter the cost.
But as she stared at the jade seal, her resolve wavered.
The faint, soundless murmur of Wuyi’s name reached her ears, a cruel reminder that even in his dreams, Ji Ling’s devotion belonged to someone else.
Her jealousy flared, consuming her. Yet, beneath the anger, there was something even more dangerous: a crushing need to own him. It wasn't love, it was a century-old hunger that wouldn't let him go.
For all her schemes and power, Jiu Ying was just a woman, yearning for what she could not have.
As she turned away from the seal. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her skin. "You’ll see me one day, Ji Ling," she vowed bitterly.
The Hall of Celestial Reflections remained silent, but within the jade seal, Ji Ling’s dreams roared like a tempest.
He stood on the sparring grounds once more, watching Wuyi laugh as sunlight danced in her eyes.
Yet, as always, the dream turned. Her laughter faded, her form blurred, and she disappeared into a darkness that swallowed everything.
"Wuyi!" he called, his voice cracking with desperation. His hands clawed at the void, but she was gone, as she always was.
He fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The echo of her smile lingered, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.
And so he remained, trapped in an endless cycle of memory and longing, his heart forever tethered to a past he could never reclaim.
FLASHBACK: A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
The sect library was alive with the rustling of scrolls and the flicker of lantern lights.
Lu Wuyi knelt on the stone floor, her brow furrowed as she read the sacred texts.
She was preparing for the mission that would test the limits of her skill, but her mind kept drifting back to the strange feelings she had been harboring lately.
A sense of unease, a whisper of a future she couldn’t predict, gnawed at her.
The doors creaked open, and she glanced up, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Ji Ling standing in the doorway. His presence always commanded attention.
"Ji Ling," she said, setting aside the scrolls as she rose to her feet. "What brings you here?" she said with a warm smile.
"I… I wanted to speak with you," he replied, his voice quieter than usual, as if he had something he wanted to say but couldn't.
His gaze flickered briefly to the scrolls on the table, but he seemed more concerned with her than with their contents. "About the mission tomorrow. Are you sure you want to lead it?"
Lu Wuyi paused, intrigued by his sudden concern. It wasn’t like him to doubt her abilities. "Worried about me?" she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “You're acting like I haven't done this a thousand times. You’re going to have to find something else to stress about while I’m gone.”
He met her gaze, there was a softness in his eyes, and for a moment, a rare vulnerability that caught her off guard. "Always," he admitted.
She tilted her head, a spark of amusement in her eyes.
“Since when did you start underestimating me? I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me." she said with a playful smile.
"Don’t worry. I’ll make it back, safe and sound," she reassured him.
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. "That’s what you said last time. Just... don't take any unnecessary risks.” he muttered.
He held her gaze a second longer than he should have, then stepped back, his posture stiff. "I’ll see you tomorrow, then."
As he turned to leave, he paused. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small jade pendant, the stone carved into the shape of a lotus. He pressed it into her hand, his fingers brushing hers for a moment longer than necessary.
"The temple abbots spent seven days chanting over this," he said quietly. He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder."It’s meant to ward off ill fortune and keep you safe. Wear it.”
He didn't tell her that he hadn’t just relied on the prayers of monks.
He’d spent the last three nights hunched over the stone, pouring his own cultivation into it until his hands shook and his head throbbed.
He’d practically drained his own reserves to turn a simple trinket into a shield. To her, it was just a blessing from the temple, a piece of jade to guard against bad luck.
To him, it was a lifeline, a jagged piece of his own spirit meant to keep her breathing when he couldn't be there to do it himself.
"Tomorrow," he said again, his voice tight. He turned and walked away before she could see the look on his face.
Wuyi watched him walk away, her fingers tightening around the cool jade. She wanted to stop him.
She had something for him, too, a small, hand-carved piece she’d been keeping in her room, intended for his protection.
She’d spent hours pacing, agonizing over what excuse to give when she finally handed it over.
Now, his gift in her palm, she felt the frantic rhythm of her heart finally steady.
Perfect, she thought with a smile on her face.
She wouldn’t need an excuse anymore.
When she returned from the mission, she could simply give him her gift as a return for his own.
It was a perfect cover for a gesture that meant far more than a simple trade. She tucked the jade away, feeling its faint hum of energy against her skin.
It would have to be enough to get her through until she could hand him her own piece of protection and see the look on his face when she did.
A few days later, the sect was quiet when the main gate finally groaned open. and the distant clang of a gong echoed through the sect.
The elders were preparing for the arrival of their disciples from the mission.
But when the group finally arrived, it wasn’t just the success of their mission they brought back.
The lifeless body of Lu Wuyi was carried through the gates, blood soaking through her robes.
She was slumped in the arms of one of the senior disciples. Her head hung at an unnatural angle, and she didn't move as they carried her through the gate.
Ji Ling’s heart sank at the sight. He was among the first to rush forward, his legs unsteady as he pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers.
His heart hammered in his chest.
No, this wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the scene before him.
"Wuyi?"
His voice didn't sound like his own. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands shaking so hard he could barely touch her.
Her face was ashen, her lips stained with blood, and the dark pool spreading across the stone beneath her made his vision blurry.
She was too beautiful, too full of life, to be lying there lifeless.
He reached out, brushing a damp lock of hair away from her forehead.
His fingers grazed her cheek, but instead of the warmth he knew, he felt only a sickening chill.
There were lacerations across face to her jawline and a deep, angry bruise darkening the curve of her cheek, ugly, violent marks.
They were an eyesore, a brutal violation of the face he had spent so many nights memorizing.
Even now, with her skin pulled tight and blood stained, she was still Wuyi, but the sight of all her injuries broke his heart.
"You can’t be gone," Ji Ling whispered, his voice raw with disbelief.
He held her face gently, brushing her damp hair from her forehead, his fingers trailing along her lifeless skin.
The coldness that had overtaken her made his stomach twist.
"Wuyi… Please, wake up," he whispered, desperation rising in his chest. He held her hand, hoping to feel even a flicker of life. "Please, don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me."
The stoic First Disciple everyone knew was gone. He looked older, somehow, his face haggard as if the last few minutes had drained years from his life.
His shoulders, usually straight, had finally slumped under a weight he couldn't carry.
He just looked hollow, his features twisted by a grief that made him unrecognizable.
He could feel his heart breaking, piece by piece, with every passing second.
His chest tightened, suffocating him, as though a hand had wrapped around his throat.
He shook her gently, hoping for some sign, some indication that this was just a nightmare.
"No," he whispered, his voice breaking.
He gently lifted her cold, lifeless body, cradling it as though afraid she would slip away.
"Lu Wuyi," he called her name softly, as if trying to wake her from some horrible dream. "Please… wake up. Please." His voice cracked, and the pain of seeing her like this began to eat at him.
He pressed his palm flat against the center of her chest, his hand trembling as he searched for even the slightest vibration, a heartbeat, a twitch, anything.
He pushed down, trying to force his own warmth into her cold skin, but she remained still. "Please, Wuyi…"
"Please," he begged, his voice trembling. His eyes were wide with panic, the reality of what had happened not fully sinking in.
His head bowed until his forehead rested against hers. "Just open your eyes. Please."
Behind him, the elders exchanged grim looks. They had known the mission was dangerous, but they hadn’t anticipated this.
The sect master, who had watched Lu Wuyi and Ji Ling since they were barely tall enough to reach the weapon racks, stepped forward.
He placed a heavy, sympathetic hand on Ji Ling’s shoulder. "Ji Ling, we—"
His mind was entirely consumed by Wuyi’s cold body in his arms. His grief was suffocating, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t contain.
The touch felt like a burn. Ji Ling didn't hear the rest. All he felt was the Sect Master’s grip trying to gently pry him away. The sudden movement, the attempt to pull her out of his arms, snapped the last thread of his control.
"No!"
He jerked away from the Sect Master's hand, pulling Wuyi’s body even tighter against his chest, shielding her as if the elders were the ones who had hurt her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, tears streaming down his face. "No, I won’t let you go. Please, don’t leave me here, alone."
His cries reverberated through the courtyard, his voice filled with agony. It was a cry of love, of sorrow, of despair. It was a sound that tore at the hearts of those who witnessed it. But no one could help him. No one could undo the loss he felt.
The skies wept as Wuyi's body was laid on the sect’s ceremonial platform, her crimson sash now dull and soaked in rain. Ji Ling knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from her lifeless face. His cries echoed through the storm, raw and unrestrained, as if his grief had torn through the heavens themselves.
From the shadows of the platform, Jiu Ying watched, her arms crossed and lips curled into the faintest of smiles. Unlike the others who stood in silent mourning, her heart swelled, not with sorrow, but with triumph.
For years, she had been a silent observer of Ji Ling’s unwavering devotion to Wuyi. His every glance, every word, every action had revolved around her, leaving no room for anyone else, least of all Jiu Ying.
But now… Wuyi was gone.
Jiu Ying turned away from the mournful scene, retreating to the secluded chambers of her quarters. Once inside, her composure broke, and she let out a soft, triumphant laugh. Her fingers traced the edge of her robe as she leaned against the wall, savoring the moment.
"Finally," she murmured, her voice trembling with happiness. "Finally, you’re out of the way."
Her mind raced back to the years she had spent in Wu Yi’s shadow, desperately yearning for a glance, a word, anything that might signal he saw her. But no matter how much she excelled, no matter how closely she aligned herself with him, his gaze always sought Wuyi.
"Wuyi this, Wuyi that," she muttered bitterly, pacing the room. "You were the center of his world, weren’t you? But now… now it’s my turn."
Her laughter echoed in the empty chamber, laced with madness. She envisioned herself by Ji Ling’s side, tending to his wounds, offering comfort in his grief.
Surely, now that Wuyi was gone, he would finally see her for what she truly was, the one who had always been there, the one who truly loved him.
But as the hours passed, her triumph began to waver. In her mind, she replayed Ji Ling’s anguished cries, the way his body had crumpled over Wuyi’s lifeless form. It was the devastation of someone who had lost his very soul.
Jiu Ying clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "No," she whispered fiercely. "He will move on. He has to."
She approached the bronze mirror, staring into her reflection with a mix of determination and desperation. "I’ll make him see," she vowed. "I’ll make him forget her. And when he does, I’ll be the one standing by his side."
As the storm outside raged on, Jiu Ying’s resolve hardened, her love for Ji Ling twisting further into obsession. She would take Wuyi’s place in his heart, no matter the cost.
The storm outside showed no signs of stopping, mirroring the chaos within Ji Ling’s soul. Days had passed since Wuyi’s death, yet the First Disciple had not stepped foot outside his quarters.
The elders had sent word after word, summoning him to the great hall, but Ji Ling remained unmoving.
His chamber, once meticulously kept, now lay in disarray, scrolls scattered across the floor, ink smudged on the walls where his shaking hands had clumsily written.
Inside, Ji Ling sat on the cold floor, his knees drawn to his chest. His once-sharp gaze was unfocused, his lips murmuring fragments of words.
“Wuyi… forgive me… it should have been me… Wuyi…”
His voice broke, and his trembling hands gripped a book from the pile surrounding him.
It was a manual of forbidden techniques, its edges worn and brittle, but Ji Ling read its pages as if they held the answer to reversing the unthinkable.
His eyes, bloodshot from sleepless nights, darted over the text, searching for hope where none existed.
The door creaked open, and Jiu Ying stepped in, a tray of food balanced in her hands.
She hesitated at the entrance, her heart aching, not with sympathy, but frustration.
His grief was a knife, cutting through the fragile illusion she had built of their future together.
“Ji Ling,” she said softly, her voice a gentle coax. “You need to eat. It’s been days.”
He didn’t respond, his fingers tightening on the book.
“Ji Ling,” she tried again, stepping closer and setting the tray down beside him. She crouched, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I know it hurts, but starving yourself won’t bring her back. Please, look at me.”
At her touch, Ji Ling flinched as if burned. His head snapped up, his haunted eyes meeting hers for a brief moment.
“Jiu Ying…” he said, his voice hoarse. For a fleeting second, her heart leaped. But then, his gaze shifted past her, unfocused once more. “Why didn’t I protect her? Why did I let her die?”
Jiu Ying’s hand dropped, her fingers curling into fists. She forced a smile, “You couldn’t have known, Ji Ling. None of us could. But she wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”
He shook his head violently, his dark hair falling into his face. “No. You don’t understand. I failed her. She trusted me, and I failed…” His voice broke into a choked sob.
Ru Yan’s frustration bubbled beneath her calm facade. “Ji Ling,” she said, her tone firmer now. “Wuyi is gone. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I’m here for you. I always have been.”
But he didn’t hear her. He never did. His trembling hands reached for another book, this one filled with ancient spells of summoning and resurrection.
The ink was faded, and the language was ancient, but Ji Ling clung to it with a desperation that bordered on madness.
Late into the night, Jiu Ying lingered outside his chambers, watching through the narrow crack in the door.
Ji Ling sat at his desk, the faint glow of a single candle casting deep shadows across his face. He muttered to himself, his brush moving feverishly across the paper.
She clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms. How could he still be so consumed by Wuyi, even in death?
She had given him days, weeks to mourn.
She had stayed by his side, bringing him food, speaking words of comfort, offering herself in quiet devotion.
But none of it mattered. His world began and ended with Wuyi.
As dawn approached, Jiu Ying finally stepped away, her heart heavy with bitterness.
She stared into the growing light, her thoughts venomous.
“Wuyi may haunt your thoughts now, Ji Ling,” she whispered to herself. “But one day, you’ll see me. One day, you’ll realize I’m the one who stayed.”
Her vow rang hollow even to her ears, but she clung to it nonetheless, unwilling to admit defeat.
Weeks turned into months, and Ji Ling finally stepped out of his quarters.
The morning sun shone down, warm and golden, but its light felt foreign against his cold, pale skin. He had cleaned himself up, his robes pristine, his ponytail tied neatly, a stark contrast to the disheveled figure he had been.
As he strode through the sect grounds, the disciples whispered among themselves.
“Senior Brother Ji Ling is back. He looks better now.” “He must have recovered now.”
Ji Ling greeted them with a faint smile, bowing slightly as he passed.
His words were calm and kind. He offered polite reassurances to those who asked about his well-being, his tone as calm as ever. To them, it seemed he had begun to heal, someone who had accepted the loss and moved on.
But beneath the serene exterior lay a storm.
Late at night, Ji Ling’s true self emerged. In the privacy of his room, he poured over the forbidden books stolen from the sect’s archives, their pages brittle and stained.
Ritual circles drawn with his own blood covered the floor, their patterns twisted and ominous.
He whispered incantations, his voice trembling with desperation and rage.
“Wuyi… I’ll bring you back. No matter the cost.”
The faint glow of demonic energy flickered around him, his once-pure aura tainted.
His hands shook as he performed forbidden rituals, drawing cuts along his arms to fuel his spells with blood.
Each failure only deepened his obsession, driving him further into the abyss.
During the day, Ji Ling wore his mask well.
He resumed his duties, teaching younger disciples, sparring with his peers, and attending sect meetings.
To most, he seemed to have regained his composure. But to the elders, the change was undeniable.
His master, Elder Xu, observed him closely during one such meeting.
Ji Ling played the part perfectly, his voice steady and his answers precise. Yet there was something wrong with the way his eyes looked.
After the meeting, Elder Xu called him aside.
“Ji Ling,” he began, his voice low but firm, “I’m glad to see you returning to your duties. But tell me, are you truly well?”
Ji Ling just smiled, “Master, I appreciate your concern. I’m doing everything I can to keep my focus where it belongs.”
Elder Xu’s eyes narrowed. “Your outward appearance may fool others, but not me. Your spirit feels… different. Tainted. What have you been doing?”
For a fleeting moment, Ji Ling’s mask cracked. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched.
But he quickly masked it, bowing deeply. “Master, I assure you, I am fine. Perhaps my grief has clouded my aura, but I am focused on my responsibilities.”
Elder Xu watched him for a long moment, his gaze piercing. “Be careful, Ji Ling. Grief is a heavy burden, but it is not an excuse to stray from the righteous path. Remember who you are and who you serve (the common people). Remember that before you start making choices you can't undo.”
Ji Ling nodded, his expression unreadable. But as he walked away, his thoughts were anything but calm.
Ji Ling’s reappearance in the sect after weeks of seclusion brought a wave of relief to his fellow disciples.
“Senior Brother Ji Ling, would you like to join us for tea later?” a younger disciple asked timidly one afternoon.
Ji Ling shook his head graciously. “Perhaps another time. I still have to meditate.” He said with a smile
The younger disciples accepted his polite refusals without question. To them, Ji Ling was their perfect role model, one of the strongest disciples, kind, righteous, and he’s resilient, quietly rebuilding himself after tragedy.
But those closest to him, the elders, his master, and even Jiu Ying, saw the cracks beneath the surface. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ji Ling’s absences became increasingly frequent. He would leave at odd hours, claiming he needed solitude to meditate in the forest.
“Junior,” Jiu Ying confronted him one evening as he returned, his robes dirtied and his expression distant, “where have you been? The sect meeting started hours ago.”
Ji Ling barely glanced at her. “Meditating,” he replied curtly. “The forest is more peaceful than the sect halls.”
Jiu Ying frowned. “You’ve been doing this often. You leave without telling anyone and come back looking... tired.”
Ji Ling’s eyes, devoid of any emotion, locked onto hers. “I need some time alone, senior sister. Meditation is my way of finding balance again.”
The conversation ended there, but Jiu Ying’s doubts only deepened.
As Ji Ling’s descent continued, his behavior became more erratic.
He disappeared for days at a time, claiming to be meditating in the forest or visiting nearby villages to offer help in killing demons.
In truth, he was seeking fragments of ancient, cursed knowledge, scrolls hidden in abandoned ruins, whispers from wandering cultivators who had strayed too far from righteousness.
But Jiu Ying, ever watchful, couldn't ignore the signs.
One night, she followed him to the forest, his steps quick and quiet, careful not to draw any attention.
She found him deep in the heart of the forest, where the trees grew twisted, and the air turned unnaturally cold.
He stood before an altar made of jagged, obsidian-like stone, its surface slick with a residue that seemed to absorb the dim moonlight.
The thing felt wrong; just looking at it made her skin crawl, as if the air around it were filled with dark magic.
Ji Ling stood motionless at its center, his hands engulfed in a sickening, pulsing red light.
The light flickered like an open flame, casting deep, ink-like stains across the shadows encircling the altar.
Even from behind the safety of the tree, she could feel the heavy, suffocating pressure that something that tasted like copper on her tongue.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Ji Ling… what are you doing?” she whispered to herself.
For a moment, she considered stepping forward, confronting him. But the air around him crackled with dark magic; it chilled her to the bone.
Jiu Ying turned and fled, her heart pounding. She couldn’t lose him, not like this. She had to make him see reason before it was too late.
But Ji Ling was already too far gone. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ji Ling’s master, Elder Xu, grew increasingly uneasy. Though Ji Ling resumed his duties, his behavior was not the same.
His responses were polite but distant, his aura tinged with a darkness that only the most experienced cultivators could sense.
During one sect meeting, Elder Xu called him aside. AGAIN.
“Ji Ling,” he began, his tone gentle but firm, “you’ve been avoiding the sect lately. The other disciples may not see it, but I can tell something is amiss.”
Ji Ling bowed slightly. “Master, I’ve been meditating to clear my mind. The loss of Wuyi... it still weighs on me.”
Elder Xu’s gaze sharpened. “Meditation should bring clarity, not... whatever this is. Your aura is different, darker. I’ve taught you to walk the righteous path. Do not stray from it, no matter your grief.”
Ji Ling’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “You worry too much, Master. I am fine.”
Elder Xu sighed, his heart heavy. “Be careful, Ji Ling. Like I said before, grief is dangerous; it can blind you to the line between light and darkness.”
Unbeknownst to the sect, Ji Ling’s quest for forbidden magic extended beyond the forest’s edge.
Disguised under the cover of night, he roamed distant towns, bargained with rogue cultivators, and tore through ancient tombs in search of relics and forbidden scrolls.
Entire villages whispered of a shadowy figure cloaked in malevolence, leaving shattered homes and terrified survivors in his wake.
Ji Ling’s descent into darkness was relentless, his every action fueled by the belief that reviving Wuyi was worth any cost.
After a few days of contemplating, Jiu Ying could no longer bear it.
Watching Ji Ling destroy himself, all for Wuyi, made her very jealous and bitter.
One evening, during a private meeting with Elder Xu, she finally broke.
“Master,” she said hesitantly, bowing low, “I must tell you something. Ji Ling... he’s not meditating during his disappearances. He’s practicing forbidden arts.”
Elder Xu’s expression darkened. “Jiu Ying, be careful of your accusations.”
“It’s true!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I followed him one night. I saw him chanting dark rituals and using blood sacrifices. He’s abandoning everything we stand for!”
The other elders exchanged grave looks. Elder Xu sighed deeply. “This cannot continue. If Ji Ling has truly strayed, we must act to save him, and the sect, from further harm.”
Ji Ling was summoned to the sect’s grand hall. The elders stood in a solemn circle, their faces etched with disappointment.
“Ji Ling,” Elder Xu began, his voice heavy with sorrow, “we have heard troubling reports of your actions. Is it true that you have turned to the demonic arts?”
Ji Ling remained silent, his jaw clenched.
“Answer us!” another elder demanded. “Have you abandoned the righteous path for forbidden knowledge?”
Finally, Ji Ling spoke, his voice cold and bitter. “I have done what I must. None of you understands. I need this power to bring her back!”
“You are blinded by grief,” Elder Xu said, stepping closer. “The path you tread leads only to ruin. We can still save you, Ji Ling, but you must surrender your cultivation and atone for your actions.”
Ji Ling’s eyes burned with fury. “Save me? You mean to strip me of my power and leave Wuyi in death forever. You call this being righteous, but it is betrayal!”
The elders moved quickly, their combined cultivation locking Ji Ling in a barrier of golden light. “This is for your own good, Ji Ling,” Elder Xu said, his voice pained.
But Ji Ling, driven by desperation and rage, unleashed a surge of demonic energy that shattered the barrier. The hall shook as he fled, disappearing into the night.
Elder Xu watched him vanish, his heart heavy. “We’ve failed him,” he murmured. “But we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc. We must find him before it’s too late.”
For weeks, Ji Ling’s descent into darkness left chaos in his wake.
Entire sects were left in ruins as he tore through the land, seeking the knowledge he believed would bring Wuyi back.
His sword, once blessed and righteous, was now stained with the blood of rogue cultivators. They were thieves, sure, but he’d hunted them down only to claim their stolen artifacts for himself.
His name became a curse on the lips of the righteous sects. A man consumed by grief and vengeance.
Ji Ling pushed his energy into the ritual, his palms covered with blood. As the dark magic flared, the air in the forest grew cold, and he felt his mind being pulled into a memory, the night Wuyi died.
He watched from the shadows.
Wuyi was holding her own against the beast with the pendant's powers killing other surrounding beasts to protect Wuyi until a bolt of dark energy which obviously meant to kill her slammed into her.
The jade pendant he’d given her, his protection, was thrown in the ground. And then the surroundings started to darken, and she vanished, dragged into a void.
She was trapped. Wuyi scrambled to her feet, sword raised, her eyes scanning the dark. "Who’s there? Show yourself!" She started feeling weak.
iu Ying stepped out of the shadows, face twisted into a sneer.
"You?" Wuyi gasped, lowering her guard for a split second. "Senior Sister? What are you doing here?"
Jiu Ying didn’t answer, she just circled around her, her voice dripping with spite.
"You always had it all, didn't you? The talent, the titles, and most importantly, him. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world."
"This is madness," Wuyi spat, trying to strike, but her limbs felt weak in this illusion realm.
Jiu Ying struck. In the real world, Wuyi would have overpowered her, but here, the realm sucked her strength.
She fought back, but she was slow, gasping for air.
Jiu Ying toyed with her, landing blow after blow until Wuyi collapsed, blood staining her white robes.
Outside in the forest, the other disciples were shouting. They huddled around Wuyi’s body, trying to heal her, but their magic didn't touch her.
They watched in horror as fresh cuts appeared on her face and clothes, blood soaking her clothes, as if an invisible blade were at work.
When Wuyi finally took her last breath, that’s when the illusion realm broke.
The disciples carried her body away, sobbing.
Once they were gone, Jiu Ying stepped out. She saw the jade pendant in the dirt.
She picked it up, feeling the faint, lingering warmth of Ji Ling’s magic on it. Her face contorted with pure hate.
She shoved the pendant into her belt. "He shouldn't have given this to you," she hissed. "It belongs to me."
The vision ended.
Ji Ling knelt in the mud, his hands still trembling from the residual dark energy.
The forest around him was deathly quiet, devoid of any living creature that had already fled the suffocating pressure of his power.
He stared into the dark, his breath hitching as the memory of Wuyi’s death kept on replaying like a broken record in his mind.
He looked down at the puddle of rainwater beside him, his reflection stared back, but the familiar brown of his eyes had been replaced by the color red.
He didn't just feel anger, he felt burning hatred for Jiu Ying. He realized then that killing her would be too kind.
He wanted her to suffer what Wuyi did, the helplessness, the slow and agonizing death, the terror of being trapped by someone you trusted.
He would drag her into the realm of her own making, a prison where she would be forced to experience her own death in the same way Wuyi had died for the end of time.
He stood up, his gaze fixing on the shadows of the trees where he knew she would eventually come looking for him.
"Eternity," he whispered into the empty, silent forest. "I’ll give you eternity."
Ji Ling didn't even turn around when a twig snapped behind him. He knows it was the person he had been waiting for.
"Finally," Jiu Ying said, walking into the clearing. She looked relieved, almost happy. "Do you have any idea how hard you were to track? But I found you."
Ji Ling stood up slowly. Dark magic can be felt circling him. The land itself seemed tainted by his presence.
"I actually considered using your blood," Ji Ling said, his voice quiet. "I thought about using it to finish the ritual for Wuyi. But when I thought about it, your blood is too disgusting. It would only taint her."
Jiu Ying’s smile vanished. "What? What are you talking about?"
Ji Ling didn't answer. He slammed his hand toward the ground, and black chains shot out, wrapping around Jiu Ying’s arms and legs like shackles.
He began pulling the void open, ready to shove her inside.
She screamed as the ground beneath her started to dissolve into black mist. She tried using her own spiritual power to break free but it was nothing against Ji Ling.
"Stop!"
A shockwave of golden spiritual energy slammed into Ji Ling, knocking him back, forcing him to break his focus.
Four elders from the sect came running into the clearing, their weapons drawn, their faces showed nothing but fury.
The black chains holding Jiu Ying snapped, and she collapsed into the mud, gasping for air as the illusion realm seal started closing.
"Traitor of the righteous sect," an Elder shouted, pointing his sword at Ji Ling.
Ji Ling scrambled to his feet, his hands still flowing with dark energy.
He searched for Jiu Ying, but she had scrambled behind the elders, her shaking hands clutching her robes, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and horror.
He couldn't get a clear shot at her now. The elders stood like a wall between him and his prey, with their weapons drawn.
Ji Ling ignored the Elders. He stared straight at Jiu Ying over their shoulders.
His look wasn't just angry. His expression promised that this delay didn't change his plans, it only meant that when he finally did catch her, he would make the wait worth it.
And so, Ji Ling fought like a cornered animal.
Dark energy surged off him in waves, whipping the trees and turning the air cold enough to bite. He wasn't just fighting for his life; he was fighting for his vengeance.
But the four Elders were relentless. They surrounded him, their spiritual blades glowing with blinding, golden light that cut through his dark shadows like knives.
He blocked a strike, then another, his chest heaving; he was losing ground.
Elder Xu, the one who had taught him how to hold a sword years ago, stepped forward.
His face was wet with tears, but his eyes were cold.
"Enough, Ji Ling!" Xu shouted, his voice cracking.
As Ji Ling lunged, Xu didn't dodge. He channeled every ounce of his remaining cultivation into his palm and slammed it square into Ji Ling’s chest.
The impact was like a physical blow to his soul. Ji Ling’s vision blurred, the dark energy around him shattering like glass. He collapsed into the dirt, his consciousness slipping away.
"We cannot kill him," Elder Xu whispered, his hands still trembling from what he did. "He was once our greatest hope. But we cannot let him continue this path of destruction."
They took him to the Hall of Reflections.
It was a place designed for silence and inner peace, but now it felt like a tomb. They hauled his limp body into the center of the hall and began the binding ritual.
A massive, translucent jade seal descended from the ceiling. It encased him entirely, freezing his limbs and dulling the red glow in his eyes.
As the jade hardened, Ji Ling was locked in place, in a state of deathless, eternal slumber.
Elder Xu stood before the seal, watching the man he once considered a son trapped in a cage of their own making.
"May this serve as a reminder to every disciple who passes through these doors," Xu said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “No soul, however pure, is safe from the abyss if it strays too far.”
it's nice to see i'm getting fanfics here, atleast i can read while waiting for the broadcast😍😍thank you…
It’s a collaborative effort to keep the hunger for content in check until the big day! You’re very welcome! 🫡 🤭 Sorry for the late reply, I was editing/completing the remaining fanfics😆
The wind howled through the peaks of the Yuxian Immortal Sect, where a sea of grey clouds clung to the mountain…
For me, it’s easier as long as I can envision the ending from the start. Honestly, I love writing the sad stuff because seeing the ML grieve, panic, or just lose his composure over the FL's death is just something.🤭👀 I’m so terrible for doing that to them, but I can't help it😣
I'll definitely be waiting for your next one. Our ideas are so different, I never even thought of doing what you did the other day until I read your post. 😍
In the martial world, tales of Lu Wuyi, the mysterious Memory Seller, are whispered in the shadows. Some say she…
I think so. Sometimes, the most "happy" ending you can get is just finally finding the one person willing to share the burdens you can never get rid of. I like to think they found exactly what they were looking for; it’s the ending I needed for them.😄
Cursed Immortal x Mortal with a broken past👀🤭That jade pendant was only the first payment, and it’s just…
In the martial world, tales of Lu Wuyi, the mysterious Memory Seller, are whispered in the shadows. Some say she is a wandering ghost bound by the sins of her past.
Others claim she is a swindler who preys on the desperate. And some claim to have seen her, a veiled woman dressed in crimson robes.
Few believe she exists at all. Her stall, adorned in crimson silk, is said to appear in desolate marketplaces, hidden mountain passes, or even during violent storms before vanishing as if she were never there.
Those who find her rarely speak of what they lost or gained.
Ji Ling, a renowned swordsman, with a reputation for his unparalleled skill and cold persona.
Yet, behind his calm demeanor lies a man damaged by his past. As a child, he escaped a massacre that claimed his family.
His memories are nothing but jagged shards that refuse to fit together; they cut through him like sharp glass, leaving behind only faces he cannot place and screams he cannot silence.
—----------------------------------------- In Liangzhou, after an exhausting duel with a rival sect, which left him with a poisoned wound that left him no choice but to stay at a tavern to pass the night and recuperate.
Ji Ling hears a rumor from a drunken merchant. A crimson stall that seems to materialize from the mist like a fleeting fever dream, only to dissolve back into the shadows when she is through.
It is run by a woman who can retrieve memories.
“The Memory Seller,” the man slurs. “She can bring back what’s been lost. But be warned, the price is heavier than gold.”
The tavern patrons laugh, dismissing the tale as drunken rambling.
Ji Ling remains silent, but the seed of curiosity is planted. —----------------------------------------- Weeks of searching lead Ji Ling to the Ghost Festival in Liangzhou. Lanterns sway above the crowded streets, casting flickering shadows.
Amid the busy and noisy market, Ji Ling spots her in a secluded part of the street: a veiled woman seated behind a crimson stall, her hands resting lightly on a wooden box.
He approaches cautiously. “Are you the Memory Seller?” he asks.
She looks up, her voice devoid of any warmth, flat and distant. “What you seek, I can find. But memories come at a price.”
She explains the cost, Ji Ling must surrender something of great personal value.
Ji Ling hesitates, searching for a trace of deceit in her eyes. Her presence feels otherworldly, detached from the bustling crowd.
Finally, he offers his jade pendant that he has carried since childhood, the only keepsake from his family.
Wuyi’s delicate hands cradle the pendant. “This is precious to you,” she says. “Its value will suffice.” Placing her palm over the pendant, she closes her eyes.
A faint, eerie glow surrounds the jade.
Ji Ling feels a surge of emotions, grief, fear, and hope, before images flood his mind: a woman’s laughter, the shrill cry child, a bloodstained blade.
Then, just as suddenly, the memories vanish, leaving him disoriented.
He gasped, his head spinning in the sudden flood of memories.
When he forced his eyes open and looked up, Lu Wuyi and her stall were gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of jasmine. ---------------------------------------------------------------
The fragments Wuyi unlocked guided Ji Ling to a remote village nestled deep in the mountains.
The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, yet it felt heavy with unspoken secrets. Ji Ling wandered the narrow dirt paths, his presence drawing curious glances from the villagers.
The familiarity of the surroundings unsettled him, stirring memories buried so deep they felt like whispers in the wind.
At the edge of the village, he encountered an elderly woman tending to a small herb garden.
He wanted to ask for directions but then he noticed her gaze lingered on him, full of wariness, before her expression shifted to one of disbelief.
“You… It can’t be.” Her voice quivered as she slowly approached, wiping her hands on her clothes. “You look just like him.”
Ji Ling frowned. “Like who?” The woman stepped closer, her weathered hands trembling as they clutched the hem of her sleeve. “There was a boy years ago who looked just like you. His family lived in the manor beyond the hills. Such a kind, noble family…” Her voice faltered before she continued. “But fate was cruel. That family perished in a massacre.”
Ji Ling’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of unease crossed his eyes. “And what makes you think I’m him?”
The old woman tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying him. “Those eyes and your face, you looked just like your father when he was your age. I was just a young woman then, but I could never forget that there was a boy who survived that massacre. You are him. There’s no mistaking it.”
Ji Ling’s posture stiffened, his hand subtly brushing against the hilt of his sword. “You must be mistaken,” he said flatly, masking his unease. “I’m just a wanderer passing through.”
But the woman shook her head with conviction. “You don’t have to trust me, boy, but I know the truth when I see it. You are the one who survived that nightmare. The last of that family.” She paused, her voice softening. “You don’t have to admit it… but I see it in your eyes. You’re searching for answers, aren’t you?”
Ji Ling offered no response, his silence betraying his unease.
The woman continued, recounting memories of the family with surprising enthusiasm. “They were good people, kind to the villagers, always willing to lend a hand. Your father was a brave man, and your mother, a gentle soul. The entire village mourned them when they were gone.”
Her words struck a chord in Ji Ling, though he masked his emotions. It wasn’t every day someone spoke of his family so warmly, especially after all these years. He hadn’t expected anyone to remember, let alone with such fondness.
“But they…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They were betrayed by a martial sect. A powerful one.”
Ji Ling’s heart tightened. “What are you talking about? Betrayed, how?” The woman’s eyes darted nervously around, as if unseen ears were listening. “It wasn’t just any bandit attack like what the other villagers say; it was orchestrated by someone within the sect they trusted. I remember it well. You were just a child.” She placed a trembling hand on his arm. “You must tread carefully. The sect’s influence is vast. They won’t let the truth come to light.”
Her words ignited a storm within Ji Ling. He leaned closer, his voice becoming colder by the second. “Who were they? Do you know their names?”
The woman shook her head regretfully. “I don’t know the specifics. But I know the sect hasn’t lost its power. If they sense you’re digging into the past, they’ll come for you.”
Ji Ling clenched his fists.
The woman grabbed his wrist firmly despite her frailty. “Don’t be reckless, young man. Revenge is a dangerous path. I’ve seen it destroy others. Don’t let it destroy you too.”
Ji Ling pulled his wrist free gently, his expression resolute. “If you’re right, I can’t ignore this. Thank you for what you’ve told me… but this is my fight.”
With a curt nod, he turned and walked away, her warnings echoing in his ears.
Yet, deep within, her persuasion lingered. The truth about his family’s betrayal had begun to unravel, and Ji Ling knew there was no turning back.
Cursed Immortal x Mortal with a broken past👀🤭 That jade pendant was only the first payment, and it’s just the beginning of the price he’ll have to pay. 🥀
The wind howled through the peaks of the Yuxian Immortal Sect, where a sea of grey clouds clung to the mountain…
Thank you so much!! I’m definitely planning to post the next part tomorrow. The story got a bit out of hand in my drafts, so I’m going to have to trim a lot of fat just to make it readable. 😣 As for her death… let’s just say it wasn't exactly "accidental," and that’s a big part of why Ji Ling is the way he is now. 🤭
The wind howled through the peaks of the Yuxian Immortal Sect, where a sea of grey clouds clung to the mountain…
AAAAH thank you!! 😭Honestly, I feel like we’re both just masochists at this point. Out of the 6 oneshot drafts I’ve got sitting in my folders, only one actually has a happy ending. 🤣🤣 I guess we just have a type! Definitely looking forward to what you post next. 🤭
I’ve been lurking for a while, but honestly, seeing Love Triangles Anti pop up again with her one-shots gave…
The wind howled through the peaks of the Yuxian Immortal Sect, where a sea of grey clouds clung to the mountain top.
At the summit sat the Hall of Celestial Reflections, a pagoda that was a silent witness to the sect’s highest rise and its darkest fall.. Within its vast, echoing chamber, the air was heavily filled with boundless ancient magic and sorrow.
In the center of the hall lay a jade seal. It was a narrow pillar of pale, translucent stone, tall enough to hold a man upright, filled with intricate carvings and faintly glowing inscriptions.
The light from the enchantments vibrated softly, like the fading heartbeat of a man long gone.
Encased within was Ji Ling, the man who had once been the pride of the immortal sect, the genius disciple whose sword had carved a path through the heavens, now frozen in an eternal sleep.
At first glance, he appeared serene, as if in a deep and undisturbed slumber. But up close, the illusion of serenity shattered. His brows were faintly furrowed, his lips parted as though whispering words that could not be heard.
His hands, though still, seemed to reach for something unseen, their posture caught between yearning and despair.
His eyes, though closed, bore the traces of struggle, their lids trembling faintly, proving that even in his sleep, he can never find peace.
He was not dead, nor truly alive. In the endless realm of his mind, Ji Ling was trapped, wandering the labyrinth of memories and longing.
His lips moved in silent repetition, like a broken record playing a name over and over again. "Wuyi… Wuyi…" his murmur echoed within his heart, as though the universe itself mourned alongside him.
For a hundred years, Ji Ling’s name had been both a mark of shame to the elders and a standard for the new disciples who dreamed of being as powerful as he was.
A tale of unmatched talent turned to ruin. The jade seal, a masterpiece of the sect elders' collective power, stood as a reminder of his fall from grace.
Yet those disciples who passed through the pagoda often found themselves pausing before it, drawn to the sorrow that lingered in the air.
Many whispered that his dreams were not of peace but of torment, that within the confines of the seal, he relived the moments leading to Lu Wuyi’s death.
They said he saw her smile and felt the warmth of her presence, only for it to be ripped away again and again.
Some claimed they could hear his murmurs if they stood long enough in silence, a desperate plea that sounded full of regret and despair.
The sect’s younger disciples often dared each other to approach the seal outside of the pagoda that limits anyone other than the elders from entering, but none stayed long.
The oppressive sorrow that hung around Ji Ling’s prison was unbearable, as though the seal itself wept for the man trapped within. Even the elders avoided lingering, their hearts heavy with guilt at their decision a century ago.
The Hall of Celestial Reflections was meant to be a place of wisdom and meditation, yet now it bore the scars of a tragedy too great to forget.
The jade seal stood as both punishment and preservation, holding within it a man whose only crime was loving too deeply and losing too tragically.
Ji Ling’s story became a bitter reminder of the price of power, love, and obsession, and a tale that is yet to be finished, for even in his sleep, he dreamed of a future that would never find its way into the waking world.
FLASHBACK: A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
"Wuyi!" Ji Ling's voice can be heard from across the sparring grounds, his voice filled with softness, unlike his usual coldness to others. His dark blue robes flowed as he ran across the clearing.
Lu Wuyi turned, her waist-length black hair adorned with jade and silver jewelry swaying like a river of ink behind her.
Her dark red clothes stood out from the other disciples, which is an indication that she's one of the disciples under the current sect master, a prodigy like Ji Ling himself. Her every movement carried an effortless grace as she met Ji Ling's gaze, her smile radiant and full of warmth.
"You’re late, Ji Ling. I thought the mighty First Disciple would never make others wait for him," she teased, adjusting the hilt of her sword.
Ji Ling stopped a few paces away. His expression remained composed, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Forgive me. Master held me back to lecture me again. He seems convinced that if I don’t train harder, you’ll surpass me before the Spring ends.
"Wise words," she laughed, already drawing her blade. "Shall we see if the Master is right?"
They moved in an instant. The courtyard fell quiet as the other disciples backed away to the side to watch the two prodigies engage in a fight.
"Focus, Ji Ling," she said, her tone playful. "You’re distracted."
"Perhaps," he replied,blocking her next strike. "Or maybe I’m just letting you have it easy.
She rolled her eyes and lunged again, harder this time. Their blades locked, forcing them chest-to-chest, close enough to feel the heat coming off each other. They held the position, breathing hard, neither willing to break the deadlock.
When they finally stepped back and lowered their swords, Wuyi wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and grinned. "You held back."
"Of course," he said, not even trying to hide it. His eyes locked on her face. "I have no interest in hurting you."
She scoffed and then smiled jokingly, "You worry too much, I’m not that fragile."
In that fleeting moment, the sunlight caught her smile, and Ji Ling’s heart clenched with a pain he couldn’t name. —-----------------------------------------
"Ji Ling, stop it! It’s just a scratch," Wuyi protested as he knelt beside her. She had taken a minor hit during one of their trainings, and though it was nothing serious, Ji Ling insisted on tending to her.
"A scratch can get infected if neglected," he carefully wrapped her arm with a strip of clean cloth. His movements were gentle, afraid he would hurt her. "Hold still."
She watched him with a mix of amusement and something softer. "You’re always like this," she murmured.
He didn’t look up, his focus entirely on the task at hand. "Someone has to be. You’re reckless." "Reckless?" she echoed, offended. "I call it daring."
"Daring would be not charging headfirst into danger without a plan." He said with an indulging smile.
"It’s ok, you’re always right there behind me," she replied softly. Ji Ling’s hands froze for a moment before continuing.
"Always," he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear it. _________________________________
"Here," Ji Ling said one afternoon, handing Wuyi a cup of water as they paused during training.
"You’ll spoil me if you keep this up.," she teased, but her expression softened as she accepted it.
"Someone has to look out for you,"
"I have hands you know. I’m not a child"
"I know," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "But that doesn’t mean I won’t try and care for you." _____________________________________________ One evening, as they watched the sunset from a secluded part of the mountain, Wuyi leaned against a tree, her knees drawn up.
Ji Ling sat beside her, sharpening his blade in steady strokes. "You’re quiet today," he said, glancing at her. "That’s unlike you."
"Just....thinking," she murmured, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we weren’t here?"
Ji Ling paused, setting the blade across his lap. "Not really. This is all I’ve ever known."
She gave a small shrug, her eyes filled with longing. “I like it here, but sometimes I wonder what’s out there. Markets, festivals, and not surrounded by people who wield swords all day.”
Ji Ling looked at her. His dark eyes unblinking, as if he were trying to memorize the way she looked in the fading light. “Maybe one day you’ll see it. When we finally can, I’ll accompany you. We’re still young, the world isn’t going anywhere.”
Her smile softened, eyes locked on him a moment longer than usual. “Then it’s a promise,” she said quietly, resting her chin on her knees as the horizon turned gold before them.
Ji Ling smiled softly, “It’s a promise.” For once, he didn't bother to hide it; the way he looked at her was a testament to everything he hadn't dared to say. _____________________________________________
The memory from that time faded, replaced by the memory of an evening beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree.
Ji Ling sat beside Lu Wuyi, the petals falling like snow around them. She leaned back against the trunk, her gaze fixed on the stars above.
"Do you think immortality is worth it?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft but her mind is filled with countless questions.
Ji Ling frowned, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean?"
"To live forever," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes reflected the light of the moonlight above "Watching centuries pass by. Imagine staying the same while everything you love, everyone you care for, fades into dust. Doesn’t that sound… lonely?"
He sat with the thought for a minute, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon then shook his head. "It would be, I suppose. If you were forced to walk that path alone. But if there were two of us… if you had someone to live your days with? That wouldn't be loneliness. It would be a different kind of life entirely. "
Her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Someone like you, perhaps? Would you be the one to stay by my side even if the world turns to ash?"
Her words shocked him frozen and he quickly looked away, hiding the flush that crept up his neck to his ears. "Don’t. You know better than to tease me with things that can’t be."
She laughed; the sound was melodic and calming to Ji Ling. "I’m not teasing, Ji Ling. I just think… if anyone could endure eternity, it would be you."
"And you?" he asked, daring to meet her gaze. "What about you?"
Her smile faded. "I don’t know. I think I’d rather live a fleeting life, full of meaning, than an endless one devoid of it."
Ji Ling stared at her, his chest tightening with an inexplicable ache. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that with her by his side, living for eternity would never be lonely, but if she’s not, then it would be meaningless.
But the words caught in his throat, swallowed by his own fears.
Every interaction, every shared moment, only deepened Ji Ling’s feelings. But he could never find the courage to tell her.
Not when their lives were so intertwined with duty and the expectations of the sect.
He watched her from afar, his heart aching with unspoken love, unaware that their time together would be cut tragically short. ________________________________________________________________ Ji Ling’s memories grew darker, the once-vivid colors becoming darker. The laughter, the shared glances, the unspoken words, all tainted by the image of Wuyi lying lifeless in his arms.
The sparring grounds, the cherry blossom tree, the nights spent under the stars, everything led to that moment.
Her blood strained his hands, her warmth fading no matter how tightly he held her. He had shouted her name until his voice broke, but the silence that followed was heavier than any cry.
The elders called it an accident, a cruel twist of fate, but Ji Ling never believed that. Someone had taken her from him, and he would tear apart the heavens if that’s what it took to bring her back.
In his prison, his murmurs grew louder, though no one could hear them. "Wuyi… Wuyi…" His dreams replayed the same scenes, over and over, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.
And so he remained, trapped in an endless cycle of memory and longing, his heart forever trapped in a past he could never reclaim.
I’ve been lurking for a while, but honestly, seeing Love Triangles Anti pop up again with her one-shots gave me the kick I needed to finally finish editing this. It’s been sitting in my drafts for ages. It was originally 28 pages, but I finally decided to cut it down to this first part so it’s actually readable. I figured I’d share this first half now instead of letting it gather dust.
Love it!! Will there be a part 2, for Manman and Dizhu?🤭👀
Nah, you have no idea how wide my smile was while reading it!🥹🤭 The plot is seriously good, especially the twist that they’re actually fanfics written by Dizhu because, ahem, she’s totally into Manman.😆
PRESENT DAY
Inside the Hall of Celestial Reflections, Jiu Ying, the sect’s Second Disciple and also Wuyi and Ji Ling's senior, stood just outside Ji Ling's seal.
She gazed at the jade seal, her eyes dark with longing and bitterness, her fingers brushing against its surface.
A century had passed, and yet Ji Ling’s murmured dreams had not changed. His whispers of Wuyi’s name cut through her heart like a blade.
Time didn't soften things for her. A hundred years later, she was still just as consumed by him as she was a hundred years before.
He was the only thing she saw, the only thing that mattered, and she’d spent a century revolving around him like a moth to a flame.
She had done everything in her power to free him, from studying forbidden arts to making sacrifices that stained her soul.
Yet, even in his confinement, he rejected her.
"Junior, it’s been a hundred years, and yet you still can’t forget about her," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of envy and bitterness.
Her fingers clenched the edge of her robe. "Even now, she holds your heart. What does she have that I lack?"
“Wuyi…” Ji Ling’s voice echoed faintly within the seal, his lips barely moving.
His once-vibrant spirit seemed dim, yet her name escaped him with unwavering devotion.
Jiu Ying’s heart twisted with jealousy. "She’s gone! Why is she still the one in your heart?" she shouted like a mad woman, her voice breaking. "It was her death that destroyed you, that ruined everything we built. And yet, even now, she holds your heart!"
Ji Ling’s silence was more cutting than any blade.
His dreams were of Wuyi, her laughter, her kindness, the way she had been the only one to make him feel human in a life filled with loneliness.
Jiu Ying’s words were like whispers compared to the roaring tide of his grief.
Jiu Ying’s memories flashed before her eyes, of Ji Ling’s cold indifference, of the way his eyes softened only when they met Wuyi’s.
She had been there, always, lurking in the shadows, her love for Ji Ling burning like a cursed flame.
Jiu Ying had always felt invisible next to Wuyi.
A hundred years ago, her schemes had been meticulously executed.
Wuyi, with her effortless charm and boundless talent, had been everything Jiu Ying despised and envied.
But her victory, though complete, had left her hollow.
The memory of Ji Ling's shattered expression after Wuyi’s death haunted her. She had expected him to rise from the ashes, stronger and reliant on her.
Instead, he had crumbled, retreating into a shell of grief that no one, not even their master could penetrate.
His downfall had been her unintended masterpiece, a cruel outcome of her own viciousness.
Something she almost regrets to this day. ALMOST.
Now, as she stood before the jade seal, the price of her obsession pressed down on her. "I did everything for you, Ji Ling," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of regret and bitterness.
Her fingertips hovered over the seal’s surface, feeling the faint vibration of its magic, like a faint heartbeat. "And yet… you still choose her. Even in your dreams."
Her mind raced with memories: the way Ji Ling’s eyes would soften when he looked at Wuyi, the warmth in his voice when he spoke her name.
Jiu Ying had never been on the receiving end of that gaze, that tone. It was a wound that time refused to heal.
"If you would only see me," she murmured, her voice cracking. "If only you could forget her." Her nails dug into her palm.
She knew she should let go, abandon the futile hope that had tied her to the past.
Yet, the thought of Ji Ling’s love, forever unattainable, was the very cage that kept her bound.
Jiu Ying was not a woman who admitted defeat easily.
Her ambition had once toppled mountains; her will had bent the most stubborn of fates.
She believed, perhaps foolishly, that she could rewrite this story too.
If Ji Ling could be freed from the seal, if his memories of Wuyi could be erased, then there would surely be a place for her in his heart.
Her obsession is so strong it turned her delusional.
But the path to such a feat was perilous, and the elders had made it clear that tampering with the forces that bound Ji Ling was forbidden.
The price for such power was steep, and many had tried and failed, losing their lives in the attempt.
Still, Jiu Ying had never been one to let limitations bind her.
In the dead of night, when the world was still, she had ventured into the ancient, forbidden library.
Hidden away in its deepest corner was a collection of books bound in blood-red leather, their pages inscribed with incantations so dark that even the air grew heavy with the scent of death.
But she was unwavering. Her obsession, her desire for Ji Ling, overshadowed any fear of consequences.
She studied the dark arts in secret, pouring over texts that promised to unlock the very forces of life and death.
She learned to bend the laws of nature, to manipulate souls and summon spirits.
A chill ran through her as she recalled the screams of the sacrifices, those poor souls who had been offered up to the rituals she performed in the dead of night.
She had given them no second thought, in her eyes their lives were nothing compared to Ji Lings’.
Each sacrifice had been a step closer to her ultimate goal: to break Ji Ling free from the prison of his own grief, no matter the cost.
But as she stared at the jade seal, her resolve wavered.
The faint, soundless murmur of Wuyi’s name reached her ears, a cruel reminder that even in his dreams, Ji Ling’s devotion belonged to someone else.
Her jealousy flared, consuming her. Yet, beneath the anger, there was something even more dangerous: a crushing need to own him. It wasn't love, it was a century-old hunger that wouldn't let him go.
For all her schemes and power, Jiu Ying was just a woman, yearning for what she could not have.
As she turned away from the seal. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her skin. "You’ll see me one day, Ji Ling," she vowed bitterly.
The Hall of Celestial Reflections remained silent, but within the jade seal, Ji Ling’s dreams roared like a tempest.
He stood on the sparring grounds once more, watching Wuyi laugh as sunlight danced in her eyes.
Yet, as always, the dream turned. Her laughter faded, her form blurred, and she disappeared into a darkness that swallowed everything.
"Wuyi!" he called, his voice cracking with desperation. His hands clawed at the void, but she was gone, as she always was.
He fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The echo of her smile lingered, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.
And so he remained, trapped in an endless cycle of memory and longing, his heart forever tethered to a past he could never reclaim.
FLASHBACK: A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
The sect library was alive with the rustling of scrolls and the flicker of lantern lights.
Lu Wuyi knelt on the stone floor, her brow furrowed as she read the sacred texts.
She was preparing for the mission that would test the limits of her skill, but her mind kept drifting back to the strange feelings she had been harboring lately.
A sense of unease, a whisper of a future she couldn’t predict, gnawed at her.
The doors creaked open, and she glanced up, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Ji Ling standing in the doorway. His presence always commanded attention.
"Ji Ling," she said, setting aside the scrolls as she rose to her feet. "What brings you here?" she said with a warm smile.
"I… I wanted to speak with you," he replied, his voice quieter than usual, as if he had something he wanted to say but couldn't.
His gaze flickered briefly to the scrolls on the table, but he seemed more concerned with her than with their contents. "About the mission tomorrow. Are you sure you want to lead it?"
Lu Wuyi paused, intrigued by his sudden concern. It wasn’t like him to doubt her abilities. "Worried about me?" she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “You're acting like I haven't done this a thousand times. You’re going to have to find something else to stress about while I’m gone.”
He met her gaze, there was a softness in his eyes, and for a moment, a rare vulnerability that caught her off guard. "Always," he admitted.
She tilted her head, a spark of amusement in her eyes.
“Since when did you start underestimating me? I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me." she said with a playful smile.
"Don’t worry. I’ll make it back, safe and sound," she reassured him.
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. "That’s what you said last time. Just... don't take any unnecessary risks.” he muttered.
He held her gaze a second longer than he should have, then stepped back, his posture stiff. "I’ll see you tomorrow, then."
As he turned to leave, he paused. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small jade pendant, the stone carved into the shape of a lotus. He pressed it into her hand, his fingers brushing hers for a moment longer than necessary.
"The temple abbots spent seven days chanting over this," he said quietly. He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder."It’s meant to ward off ill fortune and keep you safe. Wear it.”
He didn't tell her that he hadn’t just relied on the prayers of monks.
He’d spent the last three nights hunched over the stone, pouring his own cultivation into it until his hands shook and his head throbbed.
He’d practically drained his own reserves to turn a simple trinket into a shield. To her, it was just a blessing from the temple, a piece of jade to guard against bad luck.
To him, it was a lifeline, a jagged piece of his own spirit meant to keep her breathing when he couldn't be there to do it himself.
"Tomorrow," he said again, his voice tight. He turned and walked away before she could see the look on his face.
Wuyi watched him walk away, her fingers tightening around the cool jade. She wanted to stop him.
She had something for him, too, a small, hand-carved piece she’d been keeping in her room, intended for his protection.
She’d spent hours pacing, agonizing over what excuse to give when she finally handed it over.
Now, his gift in her palm, she felt the frantic rhythm of her heart finally steady.
Perfect, she thought with a smile on her face.
She wouldn’t need an excuse anymore.
When she returned from the mission, she could simply give him her gift as a return for his own.
It was a perfect cover for a gesture that meant far more than a simple trade. She tucked the jade away, feeling its faint hum of energy against her skin.
It would have to be enough to get her through until she could hand him her own piece of protection and see the look on his face when she did.
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The courtyard was busy with disciples, the usual morning chatter filling the air.
Wuyi moved through the group, double-checking straps and handing out extra supplies.
The mission to clear out that demonic beast in Canglan was a nuisance, but she wanted to make sure the innocent civilians were safe.
She spotted Ji Ling standing near the gate, leaning against a pillar, watching the crowd.
She walked over to him,. "We shouldn't be gone long. A few days, depending on how fast we track the beast down."
Ji Ling looked at her, his face as unreadable as ever. He just gave a small nod. "Just stay careful."
Wuyi felt the jade pendant tucked in her waist, a quiet reminder of what he’d given her. She knew he was worried, even if he wouldn't say it out loud.
She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "I will. Just make sure the sect doesn't fall apart while I’m gone, okay?"
He didn’t smile back, but his eyes softened for a second. He just watched her for a moment, "Go," he said quietly, stepping back to let her pass.
She walked back to her team, feeling his gaze on her. Like a silent goodbye before she headed out.
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A few days later, the sect was quiet when the main gate finally groaned open. and the distant clang of a gong echoed through the sect.
The elders were preparing for the arrival of their disciples from the mission.
But when the group finally arrived, it wasn’t just the success of their mission they brought back.
The lifeless body of Lu Wuyi was carried through the gates, blood soaking through her robes.
She was slumped in the arms of one of the senior disciples. Her head hung at an unnatural angle, and she didn't move as they carried her through the gate.
Ji Ling’s heart sank at the sight. He was among the first to rush forward, his legs unsteady as he pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers.
His heart hammered in his chest.
No, this wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the scene before him.
"Wuyi?"
His voice didn't sound like his own. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands shaking so hard he could barely touch her.
Her face was ashen, her lips stained with blood, and the dark pool spreading across the stone beneath her made his vision blurry.
She was too beautiful, too full of life, to be lying there lifeless.
He reached out, brushing a damp lock of hair away from her forehead.
His fingers grazed her cheek, but instead of the warmth he knew, he felt only a sickening chill.
There were lacerations across face to her jawline and a deep, angry bruise darkening the curve of her cheek, ugly, violent marks.
They were an eyesore, a brutal violation of the face he had spent so many nights memorizing.
Even now, with her skin pulled tight and blood stained, she was still Wuyi, but the sight of all her injuries broke his heart.
"You can’t be gone," Ji Ling whispered, his voice raw with disbelief.
He held her face gently, brushing her damp hair from her forehead, his fingers trailing along her lifeless skin.
The coldness that had overtaken her made his stomach twist.
"Wuyi… Please, wake up," he whispered, desperation rising in his chest. He held her hand, hoping to feel even a flicker of life. "Please, don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me."
The stoic First Disciple everyone knew was gone. He looked older, somehow, his face haggard as if the last few minutes had drained years from his life.
His shoulders, usually straight, had finally slumped under a weight he couldn't carry.
He just looked hollow, his features twisted by a grief that made him unrecognizable.
He could feel his heart breaking, piece by piece, with every passing second.
His chest tightened, suffocating him, as though a hand had wrapped around his throat.
He shook her gently, hoping for some sign, some indication that this was just a nightmare.
"No," he whispered, his voice breaking.
He gently lifted her cold, lifeless body, cradling it as though afraid she would slip away.
"Lu Wuyi," he called her name softly, as if trying to wake her from some horrible dream. "Please… wake up. Please." His voice cracked, and the pain of seeing her like this began to eat at him.
He pressed his palm flat against the center of her chest, his hand trembling as he searched for even the slightest vibration, a heartbeat, a twitch, anything.
He pushed down, trying to force his own warmth into her cold skin, but she remained still. "Please, Wuyi…"
"Please," he begged, his voice trembling. His eyes were wide with panic, the reality of what had happened not fully sinking in.
His head bowed until his forehead rested against hers. "Just open your eyes. Please."
Behind him, the elders exchanged grim looks. They had known the mission was dangerous, but they hadn’t anticipated this.
The sect master, who had watched Lu Wuyi and Ji Ling since they were barely tall enough to reach the weapon racks, stepped forward.
He placed a heavy, sympathetic hand on Ji Ling’s shoulder. "Ji Ling, we—"
His mind was entirely consumed by Wuyi’s cold body in his arms. His grief was suffocating, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t contain.
The touch felt like a burn. Ji Ling didn't hear the rest. All he felt was the Sect Master’s grip trying to gently pry him away. The sudden movement, the attempt to pull her out of his arms, snapped the last thread of his control.
"No!"
He jerked away from the Sect Master's hand, pulling Wuyi’s body even tighter against his chest, shielding her as if the elders were the ones who had hurt her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, tears streaming down his face. "No, I won’t let you go. Please, don’t leave me here, alone."
His cries reverberated through the courtyard, his voice filled with agony. It was a cry of love, of sorrow, of despair. It was a sound that tore at the hearts of those who witnessed it. But no one could help him. No one could undo the loss he felt.
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The skies wept as Wuyi's body was laid on the sect’s ceremonial platform, her crimson sash now dull and soaked in rain. Ji Ling knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from her lifeless face. His cries echoed through the storm, raw and unrestrained, as if his grief had torn through the heavens themselves.
From the shadows of the platform, Jiu Ying watched, her arms crossed and lips curled into the faintest of smiles. Unlike the others who stood in silent mourning, her heart swelled, not with sorrow, but with triumph.
For years, she had been a silent observer of Ji Ling’s unwavering devotion to Wuyi. His every glance, every word, every action had revolved around her, leaving no room for anyone else, least of all Jiu Ying.
But now… Wuyi was gone.
Jiu Ying turned away from the mournful scene, retreating to the secluded chambers of her quarters. Once inside, her composure broke, and she let out a soft, triumphant laugh. Her fingers traced the edge of her robe as she leaned against the wall, savoring the moment.
"Finally," she murmured, her voice trembling with happiness. "Finally, you’re out of the way."
Her mind raced back to the years she had spent in Wu Yi’s shadow, desperately yearning for a glance, a word, anything that might signal he saw her. But no matter how much she excelled, no matter how closely she aligned herself with him, his gaze always sought Wuyi.
"Wuyi this, Wuyi that," she muttered bitterly, pacing the room. "You were the center of his world, weren’t you? But now… now it’s my turn."
Her laughter echoed in the empty chamber, laced with madness. She envisioned herself by Ji Ling’s side, tending to his wounds, offering comfort in his grief.
Surely, now that Wuyi was gone, he would finally see her for what she truly was, the one who had always been there, the one who truly loved him.
But as the hours passed, her triumph began to waver. In her mind, she replayed Ji Ling’s anguished cries, the way his body had crumpled over Wuyi’s lifeless form. It was the devastation of someone who had lost his very soul.
Jiu Ying clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "No," she whispered fiercely. "He will move on. He has to."
She approached the bronze mirror, staring into her reflection with a mix of determination and desperation. "I’ll make him see," she vowed. "I’ll make him forget her. And when he does, I’ll be the one standing by his side."
As the storm outside raged on, Jiu Ying’s resolve hardened, her love for Ji Ling twisting further into obsession. She would take Wuyi’s place in his heart, no matter the cost.
The storm outside showed no signs of stopping, mirroring the chaos within Ji Ling’s soul. Days had passed since Wuyi’s death, yet the First Disciple had not stepped foot outside his quarters.
The elders had sent word after word, summoning him to the great hall, but Ji Ling remained unmoving.
His chamber, once meticulously kept, now lay in disarray, scrolls scattered across the floor, ink smudged on the walls where his shaking hands had clumsily written.
Inside, Ji Ling sat on the cold floor, his knees drawn to his chest. His once-sharp gaze was unfocused, his lips murmuring fragments of words.
“Wuyi… forgive me… it should have been me… Wuyi…”
His voice broke, and his trembling hands gripped a book from the pile surrounding him.
It was a manual of forbidden techniques, its edges worn and brittle, but Ji Ling read its pages as if they held the answer to reversing the unthinkable.
His eyes, bloodshot from sleepless nights, darted over the text, searching for hope where none existed.
The door creaked open, and Jiu Ying stepped in, a tray of food balanced in her hands.
She hesitated at the entrance, her heart aching, not with sympathy, but frustration.
His grief was a knife, cutting through the fragile illusion she had built of their future together.
“Ji Ling,” she said softly, her voice a gentle coax. “You need to eat. It’s been days.”
He didn’t respond, his fingers tightening on the book.
“Ji Ling,” she tried again, stepping closer and setting the tray down beside him. She crouched, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I know it hurts, but starving yourself won’t bring her back. Please, look at me.”
At her touch, Ji Ling flinched as if burned. His head snapped up, his haunted eyes meeting hers for a brief moment.
“Jiu Ying…” he said, his voice hoarse. For a fleeting second, her heart leaped. But then, his gaze shifted past her, unfocused once more. “Why didn’t I protect her? Why did I let her die?”
Jiu Ying’s hand dropped, her fingers curling into fists. She forced a smile, “You couldn’t have known, Ji Ling. None of us could. But she wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”
He shook his head violently, his dark hair falling into his face. “No. You don’t understand. I failed her. She trusted me, and I failed…” His voice broke into a choked sob.
Ru Yan’s frustration bubbled beneath her calm facade. “Ji Ling,” she said, her tone firmer now. “Wuyi is gone. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I’m here for you. I always have been.”
But he didn’t hear her. He never did. His trembling hands reached for another book, this one filled with ancient spells of summoning and resurrection.
The ink was faded, and the language was ancient, but Ji Ling clung to it with a desperation that bordered on madness.
Late into the night, Jiu Ying lingered outside his chambers, watching through the narrow crack in the door.
Ji Ling sat at his desk, the faint glow of a single candle casting deep shadows across his face. He muttered to himself, his brush moving feverishly across the paper.
She clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms. How could he still be so consumed by Wuyi, even in death?
She had given him days, weeks to mourn.
She had stayed by his side, bringing him food, speaking words of comfort, offering herself in quiet devotion.
But none of it mattered. His world began and ended with Wuyi.
As dawn approached, Jiu Ying finally stepped away, her heart heavy with bitterness.
She stared into the growing light, her thoughts venomous.
“Wuyi may haunt your thoughts now, Ji Ling,” she whispered to herself. “But one day, you’ll see me. One day, you’ll realize I’m the one who stayed.”
Her vow rang hollow even to her ears, but she clung to it nonetheless, unwilling to admit defeat.
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Weeks turned into months, and Ji Ling finally stepped out of his quarters.
The morning sun shone down, warm and golden, but its light felt foreign against his cold, pale skin. He had cleaned himself up, his robes pristine, his ponytail tied neatly, a stark contrast to the disheveled figure he had been.
As he strode through the sect grounds, the disciples whispered among themselves.
“Senior Brother Ji Ling is back. He looks better now.”
“He must have recovered now.”
Ji Ling greeted them with a faint smile, bowing slightly as he passed.
His words were calm and kind. He offered polite reassurances to those who asked about his well-being, his tone as calm as ever. To them, it seemed he had begun to heal, someone who had accepted the loss and moved on.
But beneath the serene exterior lay a storm.
Late at night, Ji Ling’s true self emerged. In the privacy of his room, he poured over the forbidden books stolen from the sect’s archives, their pages brittle and stained.
Ritual circles drawn with his own blood covered the floor, their patterns twisted and ominous.
He whispered incantations, his voice trembling with desperation and rage.
“Wuyi… I’ll bring you back. No matter the cost.”
The faint glow of demonic energy flickered around him, his once-pure aura tainted.
His hands shook as he performed forbidden rituals, drawing cuts along his arms to fuel his spells with blood.
Each failure only deepened his obsession, driving him further into the abyss.
During the day, Ji Ling wore his mask well.
He resumed his duties, teaching younger disciples, sparring with his peers, and attending sect meetings.
To most, he seemed to have regained his composure. But to the elders, the change was undeniable.
His master, Elder Xu, observed him closely during one such meeting.
Ji Ling played the part perfectly, his voice steady and his answers precise. Yet there was something wrong with the way his eyes looked.
After the meeting, Elder Xu called him aside.
“Ji Ling,” he began, his voice low but firm, “I’m glad to see you returning to your duties. But tell me, are you truly well?”
Ji Ling just smiled, “Master, I appreciate your concern. I’m doing everything I can to keep my focus where it belongs.”
Elder Xu’s eyes narrowed. “Your outward appearance may fool others, but not me. Your spirit feels… different. Tainted. What have you been doing?”
For a fleeting moment, Ji Ling’s mask cracked. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched.
But he quickly masked it, bowing deeply. “Master, I assure you, I am fine. Perhaps my grief has clouded my aura, but I am focused on my responsibilities.”
Elder Xu watched him for a long moment, his gaze piercing. “Be careful, Ji Ling. Grief is a heavy burden, but it is not an excuse to stray from the righteous path. Remember who you are and who you serve (the common people). Remember that before you start making choices you can't undo.”
Ji Ling nodded, his expression unreadable. But as he walked away, his thoughts were anything but calm.
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Ji Ling’s reappearance in the sect after weeks of seclusion brought a wave of relief to his fellow disciples.
“Senior Brother Ji Ling, would you like to join us for tea later?” a younger disciple asked timidly one afternoon.
Ji Ling shook his head graciously. “Perhaps another time. I still have to meditate.” He said with a smile
The younger disciples accepted his polite refusals without question. To them, Ji Ling was their perfect role model, one of the strongest disciples, kind, righteous, and he’s resilient, quietly rebuilding himself after tragedy.
But those closest to him, the elders, his master, and even Jiu Ying, saw the cracks beneath the surface.
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Ji Ling’s absences became increasingly frequent. He would leave at odd hours, claiming he needed solitude to meditate in the forest.
“Junior,” Jiu Ying confronted him one evening as he returned, his robes dirtied and his expression distant, “where have you been? The sect meeting started hours ago.”
Ji Ling barely glanced at her. “Meditating,” he replied curtly. “The forest is more peaceful than the sect halls.”
Jiu Ying frowned. “You’ve been doing this often. You leave without telling anyone and come back looking... tired.”
Ji Ling’s eyes, devoid of any emotion, locked onto hers. “I need some time alone, senior sister. Meditation is my way of finding balance again.”
The conversation ended there, but Jiu Ying’s doubts only deepened.
As Ji Ling’s descent continued, his behavior became more erratic.
He disappeared for days at a time, claiming to be meditating in the forest or visiting nearby villages to offer help in killing demons.
In truth, he was seeking fragments of ancient, cursed knowledge, scrolls hidden in abandoned ruins, whispers from wandering cultivators who had strayed too far from righteousness.
But Jiu Ying, ever watchful, couldn't ignore the signs.
One night, she followed him to the forest, his steps quick and quiet, careful not to draw any attention.
She found him deep in the heart of the forest, where the trees grew twisted, and the air turned unnaturally cold.
He stood before an altar made of jagged, obsidian-like stone, its surface slick with a residue that seemed to absorb the dim moonlight.
The thing felt wrong; just looking at it made her skin crawl, as if the air around it were filled with dark magic.
Ji Ling stood motionless at its center, his hands engulfed in a sickening, pulsing red light.
The light flickered like an open flame, casting deep, ink-like stains across the shadows encircling the altar.
Even from behind the safety of the tree, she could feel the heavy, suffocating pressure that something that tasted like copper on her tongue.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Ji Ling… what are you doing?” she whispered to herself.
For a moment, she considered stepping forward, confronting him. But the air around him crackled with dark magic; it chilled her to the bone.
Jiu Ying turned and fled, her heart pounding. She couldn’t lose him, not like this. She had to make him see reason before it was too late.
But Ji Ling was already too far gone.
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Ji Ling’s master, Elder Xu, grew increasingly uneasy. Though Ji Ling resumed his duties, his behavior was not the same.
His responses were polite but distant, his aura tinged with a darkness that only the most experienced cultivators could sense.
During one sect meeting, Elder Xu called him aside. AGAIN.
“Ji Ling,” he began, his tone gentle but firm, “you’ve been avoiding the sect lately. The other disciples may not see it, but I can tell something is amiss.”
Ji Ling bowed slightly. “Master, I’ve been meditating to clear my mind. The loss of Wuyi... it still weighs on me.”
Elder Xu’s gaze sharpened. “Meditation should bring clarity, not... whatever this is. Your aura is different, darker. I’ve taught you to walk the righteous path. Do not stray from it, no matter your grief.”
Ji Ling’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “You worry too much, Master. I am fine.”
Elder Xu sighed, his heart heavy. “Be careful, Ji Ling. Like I said before, grief is dangerous; it can blind you to the line between light and darkness.”
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Each night, Ji Ling’s obsession consumed him.
His chambers became a sanctuary for forbidden practices, the air thick with the scent of his own blood and charred talismans.
He read ancient texts and incantations, his voice hoarse from chanting rituals that promised the impossible.
His hands trembled as he drew another ritual circle. “I’ll find a way to bring you back. Even if it costs me everything,” he whispered
Blood dripped from a cut along his palm, staining the floor as he pressed his hand against the circle’s center.
The room filled with a faint, red glow, but the ritual failed, leaving him gasping in frustration.
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Unbeknownst to the sect, Ji Ling’s quest for forbidden magic extended beyond the forest’s edge.
Disguised under the cover of night, he roamed distant towns, bargained with rogue cultivators, and tore through ancient tombs in search of relics and forbidden scrolls.
Entire villages whispered of a shadowy figure cloaked in malevolence, leaving shattered homes and terrified survivors in his wake.
Ji Ling’s descent into darkness was relentless, his every action fueled by the belief that reviving Wuyi was worth any cost.
After a few days of contemplating, Jiu Ying could no longer bear it.
Watching Ji Ling destroy himself, all for Wuyi, made her very jealous and bitter.
One evening, during a private meeting with Elder Xu, she finally broke.
“Master,” she said hesitantly, bowing low, “I must tell you something. Ji Ling... he’s not meditating during his disappearances. He’s practicing forbidden arts.”
Elder Xu’s expression darkened. “Jiu Ying, be careful of your accusations.”
“It’s true!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I followed him one night. I saw him chanting dark rituals and using blood sacrifices. He’s abandoning everything we stand for!”
The other elders exchanged grave looks. Elder Xu sighed deeply. “This cannot continue. If Ji Ling has truly strayed, we must act to save him, and the sect, from further harm.”
Ji Ling was summoned to the sect’s grand hall. The elders stood in a solemn circle, their faces etched with disappointment.
“Ji Ling,” Elder Xu began, his voice heavy with sorrow, “we have heard troubling reports of your actions. Is it true that you have turned to the demonic arts?”
Ji Ling remained silent, his jaw clenched.
“Answer us!” another elder demanded. “Have you abandoned the righteous path for forbidden knowledge?”
Finally, Ji Ling spoke, his voice cold and bitter. “I have done what I must. None of you understands. I need this power to bring her back!”
“You are blinded by grief,” Elder Xu said, stepping closer. “The path you tread leads only to ruin. We can still save you, Ji Ling, but you must surrender your cultivation and atone for your actions.”
Ji Ling’s eyes burned with fury. “Save me? You mean to strip me of my power and leave Wuyi in death forever. You call this being righteous, but it is betrayal!”
The elders moved quickly, their combined cultivation locking Ji Ling in a barrier of golden light. “This is for your own good, Ji Ling,” Elder Xu said, his voice pained.
But Ji Ling, driven by desperation and rage, unleashed a surge of demonic energy that shattered the barrier. The hall shook as he fled, disappearing into the night.
Elder Xu watched him vanish, his heart heavy. “We’ve failed him,” he murmured. “But we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc. We must find him before it’s too late.”
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For weeks, Ji Ling’s descent into darkness left chaos in his wake.
Entire sects were left in ruins as he tore through the land, seeking the knowledge he believed would bring Wuyi back.
His sword, once blessed and righteous, was now stained with the blood of rogue cultivators. They were thieves, sure, but he’d hunted them down only to claim their stolen artifacts for himself.
His name became a curse on the lips of the righteous sects. A man consumed by grief and vengeance.
Ji Ling pushed his energy into the ritual, his palms covered with blood. As the dark magic flared, the air in the forest grew cold, and he felt his mind being pulled into a memory, the night Wuyi died.
He watched from the shadows.
Wuyi was holding her own against the beast with the pendant's powers killing other surrounding beasts to protect Wuyi until a bolt of dark energy which obviously meant to kill her slammed into her.
The jade pendant he’d given her, his protection, was thrown in the ground. And then the surroundings started to darken, and she vanished, dragged into a void.
She was trapped. Wuyi scrambled to her feet, sword raised, her eyes scanning the dark. "Who’s there? Show yourself!" She started feeling weak.
iu Ying stepped out of the shadows, face twisted into a sneer.
"You?" Wuyi gasped, lowering her guard for a split second. "Senior Sister? What are you doing here?"
Jiu Ying didn’t answer, she just circled around her, her voice dripping with spite.
"You always had it all, didn't you? The talent, the titles, and most importantly, him. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world."
"This is madness," Wuyi spat, trying to strike, but her limbs felt weak in this illusion realm.
Jiu Ying struck. In the real world, Wuyi would have overpowered her, but here, the realm sucked her strength.
She fought back, but she was slow, gasping for air.
Jiu Ying toyed with her, landing blow after blow until Wuyi collapsed, blood staining her white robes.
Outside in the forest, the other disciples were shouting. They huddled around Wuyi’s body, trying to heal her, but their magic didn't touch her.
They watched in horror as fresh cuts appeared on her face and clothes, blood soaking her clothes, as if an invisible blade were at work.
When Wuyi finally took her last breath, that’s when the illusion realm broke.
The disciples carried her body away, sobbing.
Once they were gone, Jiu Ying stepped out. She saw the jade pendant in the dirt.
She picked it up, feeling the faint, lingering warmth of Ji Ling’s magic on it. Her face contorted with pure hate.
She shoved the pendant into her belt. "He shouldn't have given this to you," she hissed. "It belongs to me."
The vision ended.
Ji Ling knelt in the mud, his hands still trembling from the residual dark energy.
The forest around him was deathly quiet, devoid of any living creature that had already fled the suffocating pressure of his power.
He stared into the dark, his breath hitching as the memory of Wuyi’s death kept on replaying like a broken record in his mind.
He looked down at the puddle of rainwater beside him, his reflection stared back, but the familiar brown of his eyes had been replaced by the color red.
He didn't just feel anger, he felt burning hatred for Jiu Ying. He realized then that killing her would be too kind.
He wanted her to suffer what Wuyi did, the helplessness, the slow and agonizing death, the terror of being trapped by someone you trusted.
He would drag her into the realm of her own making, a prison where she would be forced to experience her own death in the same way Wuyi had died for the end of time.
He stood up, his gaze fixing on the shadows of the trees where he knew she would eventually come looking for him.
"Eternity," he whispered into the empty, silent forest. "I’ll give you eternity."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ji Ling didn't even turn around when a twig snapped behind him. He knows it was the person he had been waiting for.
"Finally," Jiu Ying said, walking into the clearing. She looked relieved, almost happy. "Do you have any idea how hard you were to track? But I found you."
Ji Ling stood up slowly. Dark magic can be felt circling him. The land itself seemed tainted by his presence.
"I actually considered using your blood," Ji Ling said, his voice quiet. "I thought about using it to finish the ritual for Wuyi. But when I thought about it, your blood is too disgusting. It would only taint her."
Jiu Ying’s smile vanished. "What? What are you talking about?"
Ji Ling didn't answer. He slammed his hand toward the ground, and black chains shot out, wrapping around Jiu Ying’s arms and legs like shackles.
He began pulling the void open, ready to shove her inside.
She screamed as the ground beneath her started to dissolve into black mist. She tried using her own spiritual power to break free but it was nothing against Ji Ling.
"Stop!"
A shockwave of golden spiritual energy slammed into Ji Ling, knocking him back, forcing him to break his focus.
Four elders from the sect came running into the clearing, their weapons drawn, their faces showed nothing but fury.
The black chains holding Jiu Ying snapped, and she collapsed into the mud, gasping for air as the illusion realm seal started closing.
"Traitor of the righteous sect," an Elder shouted, pointing his sword at Ji Ling.
Ji Ling scrambled to his feet, his hands still flowing with dark energy.
He searched for Jiu Ying, but she had scrambled behind the elders, her shaking hands clutching her robes, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and horror.
He couldn't get a clear shot at her now. The elders stood like a wall between him and his prey, with their weapons drawn.
Ji Ling ignored the Elders. He stared straight at Jiu Ying over their shoulders.
His look wasn't just angry. His expression promised that this delay didn't change his plans, it only meant that when he finally did catch her, he would make the wait worth it.
And so, Ji Ling fought like a cornered animal.
Dark energy surged off him in waves, whipping the trees and turning the air cold enough to bite. He wasn't just fighting for his life; he was fighting for his vengeance.
But the four Elders were relentless. They surrounded him, their spiritual blades glowing with blinding, golden light that cut through his dark shadows like knives.
He blocked a strike, then another, his chest heaving; he was losing ground.
Elder Xu, the one who had taught him how to hold a sword years ago, stepped forward.
His face was wet with tears, but his eyes were cold.
"Enough, Ji Ling!" Xu shouted, his voice cracking.
As Ji Ling lunged, Xu didn't dodge. He channeled every ounce of his remaining cultivation into his palm and slammed it square into Ji Ling’s chest.
The impact was like a physical blow to his soul. Ji Ling’s vision blurred, the dark energy around him shattering like glass. He collapsed into the dirt, his consciousness slipping away.
"We cannot kill him," Elder Xu whispered, his hands still trembling from what he did. "He was once our greatest hope. But we cannot let him continue this path of destruction."
They took him to the Hall of Reflections.
It was a place designed for silence and inner peace, but now it felt like a tomb. They hauled his limp body into the center of the hall and began the binding ritual.
A massive, translucent jade seal descended from the ceiling. It encased him entirely, freezing his limbs and dulling the red glow in his eyes.
As the jade hardened, Ji Ling was locked in place, in a state of deathless, eternal slumber.
Elder Xu stood before the seal, watching the man he once considered a son trapped in a cage of their own making.
"May this serve as a reminder to every disciple who passes through these doors," Xu said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “No soul, however pure, is safe from the abyss if it strays too far.”
No worries, the 2 fics are both HE🤭
I'll definitely be waiting for your next one. Our ideas are so different, I never even thought of doing what you did the other day until I read your post. 😍
Some say she is a wandering ghost bound by the sins of her past.
Others claim she is a swindler who preys on the desperate. And some claim to have seen her, a veiled woman dressed in crimson robes.
Few believe she exists at all. Her stall, adorned in crimson silk, is said to appear in desolate marketplaces, hidden mountain passes, or even during violent storms before vanishing as if she were never there.
Those who find her rarely speak of what they lost or gained.
Ji Ling, a renowned swordsman, with a reputation for his unparalleled skill and cold persona.
Yet, behind his calm demeanor lies a man damaged by his past. As a child, he escaped a massacre that claimed his family.
His memories are nothing but jagged shards that refuse to fit together; they cut through him like sharp glass, leaving behind only faces he cannot place and screams he cannot silence.
—-----------------------------------------
In Liangzhou, after an exhausting duel with a rival sect, which left him with a poisoned wound that left him no choice but to stay at a tavern to pass the night and recuperate.
Ji Ling hears a rumor from a drunken merchant. A crimson stall that seems to materialize from the mist like a fleeting fever dream, only to dissolve back into the shadows when she is through.
It is run by a woman who can retrieve memories.
“The Memory Seller,” the man slurs. “She can bring back what’s been lost. But be warned, the price is heavier than gold.”
The tavern patrons laugh, dismissing the tale as drunken rambling.
Ji Ling remains silent, but the seed of curiosity is planted.
—-----------------------------------------
Weeks of searching lead Ji Ling to the Ghost Festival in Liangzhou. Lanterns sway above the crowded streets, casting flickering shadows.
Amid the busy and noisy market, Ji Ling spots her in a secluded part of the street: a veiled woman seated behind a crimson stall, her hands resting lightly on a wooden box.
He approaches cautiously. “Are you the Memory Seller?” he asks.
She looks up, her voice devoid of any warmth, flat and distant. “What you seek, I can find. But memories come at a price.”
She explains the cost, Ji Ling must surrender something of great personal value.
Ji Ling hesitates, searching for a trace of deceit in her eyes.
Her presence feels otherworldly, detached from the bustling crowd.
Finally, he offers his jade pendant that he has carried since childhood, the only keepsake from his family.
Wuyi’s delicate hands cradle the pendant. “This is precious to you,” she says. “Its value will suffice.” Placing her palm over the pendant, she closes her eyes.
A faint, eerie glow surrounds the jade.
Ji Ling feels a surge of emotions, grief, fear, and hope, before images flood his mind: a woman’s laughter, the shrill cry child, a bloodstained blade.
Then, just as suddenly, the memories vanish, leaving him disoriented.
He gasped, his head spinning in the sudden flood of memories.
When he forced his eyes open and looked up, Lu Wuyi and her stall were gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of jasmine.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The fragments Wuyi unlocked guided Ji Ling to a remote village nestled deep in the mountains.
The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth, yet it felt heavy with unspoken secrets.
Ji Ling wandered the narrow dirt paths, his presence drawing curious glances from the villagers.
The familiarity of the surroundings unsettled him, stirring memories buried so deep they felt like whispers in the wind.
At the edge of the village, he encountered an elderly woman tending to a small herb garden.
He wanted to ask for directions but then he noticed her gaze lingered on him, full of wariness, before her expression shifted to one of disbelief.
“You… It can’t be.” Her voice quivered as she slowly approached, wiping her hands on her clothes. “You look just like him.”
Ji Ling frowned. “Like who?”
The woman stepped closer, her weathered hands trembling as they clutched the hem of her sleeve. “There was a boy years ago who looked just like you. His family lived in the manor beyond the hills. Such a kind, noble family…”
Her voice faltered before she continued. “But fate was cruel. That family perished in a massacre.”
Ji Ling’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of unease crossed his eyes. “And what makes you think I’m him?”
The old woman tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying him. “Those eyes and your face, you looked just like your father when he was your age. I was just a young woman then, but I could never forget that there was a boy who survived that massacre. You are him. There’s no mistaking it.”
Ji Ling’s posture stiffened, his hand subtly brushing against the hilt of his sword. “You must be mistaken,” he said flatly, masking his unease. “I’m just a wanderer passing through.”
But the woman shook her head with conviction. “You don’t have to trust me, boy, but I know the truth when I see it. You are the one who survived that nightmare. The last of that family.” She paused, her voice softening. “You don’t have to admit it… but I see it in your eyes. You’re searching for answers, aren’t you?”
Ji Ling offered no response, his silence betraying his unease.
The woman continued, recounting memories of the family with surprising enthusiasm.
“They were good people, kind to the villagers, always willing to lend a hand. Your father was a brave man, and your mother, a gentle soul. The entire village mourned them when they were gone.”
Her words struck a chord in Ji Ling, though he masked his emotions. It wasn’t every day someone spoke of his family so warmly, especially after all these years. He hadn’t expected anyone to remember, let alone with such fondness.
“But they…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They were betrayed by a martial sect. A powerful one.”
Ji Ling’s heart tightened. “What are you talking about? Betrayed, how?”
The woman’s eyes darted nervously around, as if unseen ears were listening. “It wasn’t just any bandit attack like what the other villagers say; it was orchestrated by someone within the sect they trusted. I remember it well. You were just a child.” She placed a trembling hand on his arm. “You must tread carefully. The sect’s influence is vast. They won’t let the truth come to light.”
Her words ignited a storm within Ji Ling. He leaned closer, his voice becoming colder by the second. “Who were they? Do you know their names?”
The woman shook her head regretfully. “I don’t know the specifics. But I know the sect hasn’t lost its power. If they sense you’re digging into the past, they’ll come for you.”
Ji Ling clenched his fists.
The woman grabbed his wrist firmly despite her frailty. “Don’t be reckless, young man.
Revenge is a dangerous path. I’ve seen it destroy others. Don’t let it destroy you too.”
Ji Ling pulled his wrist free gently, his expression resolute. “If you’re right, I can’t ignore this. Thank you for what you’ve told me… but this is my fight.”
With a curt nod, he turned and walked away, her warnings echoing in his ears.
Yet, deep within, her persuasion lingered. The truth about his family’s betrayal had begun to unravel, and Ji Ling knew there was no turning back.
He plans on searching for Wuyi for more answers.
That jade pendant was only the first payment, and it’s just the beginning of the price he’ll have to pay. 🥀
At the summit sat the Hall of Celestial Reflections, a pagoda that was a silent witness to the sect’s highest rise and its darkest fall..
Within its vast, echoing chamber, the air was heavily filled with boundless ancient magic and sorrow.
In the center of the hall lay a jade seal. It was a narrow pillar of pale, translucent stone, tall enough to hold a man upright, filled with intricate carvings and faintly glowing inscriptions.
The light from the enchantments vibrated softly, like the fading heartbeat of a man long gone.
Encased within was Ji Ling, the man who had once been the pride of the immortal sect, the genius disciple whose sword had carved a path through the heavens, now frozen in an eternal sleep.
At first glance, he appeared serene, as if in a deep and undisturbed slumber. But up close, the illusion of serenity shattered.
His brows were faintly furrowed, his lips parted as though whispering words that could not be heard.
His hands, though still, seemed to reach for something unseen, their posture caught between yearning and despair.
His eyes, though closed, bore the traces of struggle, their lids trembling faintly, proving that even in his sleep, he can never find peace.
He was not dead, nor truly alive. In the endless realm of his mind, Ji Ling was trapped, wandering the labyrinth of memories and longing.
His lips moved in silent repetition, like a broken record playing a name over and over again. "Wuyi… Wuyi…" his murmur echoed within his heart, as though the universe itself mourned alongside him.
For a hundred years, Ji Ling’s name had been both a mark of shame to the elders and a standard for the new disciples who dreamed of being as powerful as he was.
A tale of unmatched talent turned to ruin. The jade seal, a masterpiece of the sect elders' collective power, stood as a reminder of his fall from grace.
Yet those disciples who passed through the pagoda often found themselves pausing before it, drawn to the sorrow that lingered in the air.
Many whispered that his dreams were not of peace but of torment, that within the confines of the seal, he relived the moments leading to Lu Wuyi’s death.
They said he saw her smile and felt the warmth of her presence, only for it to be ripped away again and again.
Some claimed they could hear his murmurs if they stood long enough in silence, a desperate plea that sounded full of regret and despair.
The sect’s younger disciples often dared each other to approach the seal outside of the pagoda that limits anyone other than the elders from entering, but none stayed long.
The oppressive sorrow that hung around Ji Ling’s prison was unbearable, as though the seal itself wept for the man trapped within. Even the elders avoided lingering, their hearts heavy with guilt at their decision a century ago.
The Hall of Celestial Reflections was meant to be a place of wisdom and meditation, yet now it bore the scars of a tragedy too great to forget.
The jade seal stood as both punishment and preservation, holding within it a man whose only crime was loving too deeply and losing too tragically.
Ji Ling’s story became a bitter reminder of the price of power, love, and obsession, and a tale that is yet to be finished, for even in his sleep, he dreamed of a future that would never find its way into the waking world.
FLASHBACK: A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
"Wuyi!"
Ji Ling's voice can be heard from across the sparring grounds, his voice filled with softness, unlike his usual coldness to others. His dark blue robes flowed as he ran across the clearing.
Lu Wuyi turned, her waist-length black hair adorned with jade and silver jewelry swaying like a river of ink behind her.
Her dark red clothes stood out from the other disciples, which is an indication that she's one of the disciples under the current sect master, a prodigy like Ji Ling himself. Her every movement carried an effortless grace as she met Ji Ling's gaze, her smile radiant and full of warmth.
"You’re late, Ji Ling. I thought the mighty First Disciple would never make others wait for him," she teased, adjusting the hilt of her sword.
Ji Ling stopped a few paces away. His expression remained composed, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Forgive me. Master held me back to lecture me again. He seems convinced that if I don’t train harder, you’ll surpass me before the Spring ends.
"Wise words," she laughed, already drawing her blade. "Shall we see if the Master is right?"
They moved in an instant. The courtyard fell quiet as the other disciples backed away to the side to watch the two prodigies engage in a fight.
"Focus, Ji Ling," she said, her tone playful. "You’re distracted."
"Perhaps," he replied,blocking her next strike. "Or maybe I’m just letting you have it easy.
She rolled her eyes and lunged again, harder this time. Their blades locked, forcing them chest-to-chest, close enough to feel the heat coming off each other. They held the position, breathing hard, neither willing to break the deadlock.
When they finally stepped back and lowered their swords, Wuyi wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and grinned. "You held back."
"Of course," he said, not even trying to hide it. His eyes locked on her face. "I have no interest in hurting you."
She scoffed and then smiled jokingly, "You worry too much, I’m not that fragile."
In that fleeting moment, the sunlight caught her smile, and Ji Ling’s heart clenched with a pain he couldn’t name.
—-----------------------------------------
"Ji Ling, stop it! It’s just a scratch," Wuyi protested as he knelt beside her. She had taken a minor hit during one of their trainings, and though it was nothing serious, Ji Ling insisted on tending to her.
"A scratch can get infected if neglected," he carefully wrapped her arm with a strip of clean cloth. His movements were gentle, afraid he would hurt her. "Hold still."
She watched him with a mix of amusement and something softer. "You’re always like this," she murmured.
He didn’t look up, his focus entirely on the task at hand. "Someone has to be. You’re reckless."
"Reckless?" she echoed, offended. "I call it daring."
"Daring would be not charging headfirst into danger without a plan." He said with an indulging smile.
"It’s ok, you’re always right there behind me," she replied softly. Ji Ling’s hands froze for a moment before continuing.
"Always," he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.
_________________________________
"Here," Ji Ling said one afternoon, handing Wuyi a cup of water as they paused during training.
"You’ll spoil me if you keep this up.," she teased, but her expression softened as she accepted it.
"Someone has to look out for you,"
"I have hands you know. I’m not a child"
"I know," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "But that doesn’t mean I won’t try and care for you."
_____________________________________________
One evening, as they watched the sunset from a secluded part of the mountain, Wuyi leaned against a tree, her knees drawn up.
Ji Ling sat beside her, sharpening his blade in steady strokes.
"You’re quiet today," he said, glancing at her. "That’s unlike you."
"Just....thinking," she murmured, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we weren’t here?"
Ji Ling paused, setting the blade across his lap. "Not really. This is all I’ve ever known."
She gave a small shrug, her eyes filled with longing. “I like it here, but sometimes I wonder what’s out there. Markets, festivals, and not surrounded by people who wield swords all day.”
Ji Ling looked at her. His dark eyes unblinking, as if he were trying to memorize the way she looked in the fading light. “Maybe one day you’ll see it. When we finally can, I’ll accompany you. We’re still young, the world isn’t going anywhere.”
Her smile softened, eyes locked on him a moment longer than usual. “Then it’s a promise,” she said quietly, resting her chin on her knees as the horizon turned gold before them.
Ji Ling smiled softly, “It’s a promise.” For once, he didn't bother to hide it; the way he looked at her was a testament to everything he hadn't dared to say.
_____________________________________________
The memory from that time faded, replaced by the memory of an evening beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree.
Ji Ling sat beside Lu Wuyi, the petals falling like snow around them. She leaned back against the trunk, her gaze fixed on the stars above.
"Do you think immortality is worth it?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft but her mind is filled with countless questions.
Ji Ling frowned, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean?"
"To live forever," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes reflected the light of the moonlight above "Watching centuries pass by. Imagine staying the same while everything you love, everyone you care for, fades into dust. Doesn’t that sound… lonely?"
He sat with the thought for a minute, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon then shook his head. "It would be, I suppose. If you were forced to walk that path alone. But if there were two of us… if you had someone to live your days with? That wouldn't be loneliness. It would be a different kind of life entirely. "
Her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Someone like you, perhaps? Would you be the one to stay by my side even if the world turns to ash?"
Her words shocked him frozen and he quickly looked away, hiding the flush that crept up his neck to his ears. "Don’t. You know better than to tease me with things that can’t be."
She laughed; the sound was melodic and calming to Ji Ling. "I’m not teasing, Ji Ling. I just think… if anyone could endure eternity, it would be you."
"And you?" he asked, daring to meet her gaze. "What about you?"
Her smile faded. "I don’t know. I think I’d rather live a fleeting life, full of meaning, than an endless one devoid of it."
Ji Ling stared at her, his chest tightening with an inexplicable ache. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that with her by his side, living for eternity would never be lonely, but if she’s not, then it would be meaningless.
But the words caught in his throat, swallowed by his own fears.
Every interaction, every shared moment, only deepened Ji Ling’s feelings. But he could never find the courage to tell her.
Not when their lives were so intertwined with duty and the expectations of the sect.
He watched her from afar, his heart aching with unspoken love, unaware that their time together would be cut tragically short.
________________________________________________________________
Ji Ling’s memories grew darker, the once-vivid colors becoming darker. The laughter, the shared glances, the unspoken words, all tainted by the image of Wuyi lying lifeless in his arms.
The sparring grounds, the cherry blossom tree, the nights spent under the stars, everything led to that moment.
Her blood strained his hands, her warmth fading no matter how tightly he held her.
He had shouted her name until his voice broke, but the silence that followed was heavier than any cry.
The elders called it an accident, a cruel twist of fate, but Ji Ling never believed that. Someone had taken her from him, and he would tear apart the heavens if that’s what it took to bring her back.
In his prison, his murmurs grew louder, though no one could hear them. "Wuyi… Wuyi…" His dreams replayed the same scenes, over and over, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.
And so he remained, trapped in an endless cycle of memory and longing, his heart forever trapped in a past he could never reclaim.
________________________________________________________________
I know this trope is everywhere, but honestly, who doesn't love a dedicated lead who would do anything for his beloved?🤭