Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

bgm: unfeeling valley

Fei Chenling gaped, while Nan Wuyue looked on expressionlessly. The qi marker he’d left in Mo Yixuan’s body had long signaled him of his master’s approach, after all.

“You three…” the sect master began, before trailing off to walk towards the senseless Jun Zhen. “What happened?!”

“He’s resting,” Mo Yixuan said bluntly. His eyes swept past Nan Wuyue’s figure before he waved somewhat clumsily at the air. Instantly, a sound barrier winked into existence, cutting off all noise from the outside world. Mo Yixuan strategically turned away from his disciple before beginning to speak. It wouldn’t surprise him if cultivators knew how to read lips.

“I knocked him out, but he attacked me first,” he began again. “Do you have any ideas on how to fix him?”

Fei Chenling gave him a long look. He too had turned away from Nan Wuyue to glance at Jun Zhen’s young disciple. “Leave us, I’ll summon you later.”

The youth didn’t need to be told twice as he backed out of the room. Fei Chenling fixed his gaze on his junior brother, suddenly somber. “It’s been years, Xuan’er. What brought this on?”

After all, Mo Yixuan had never cared for the fate of his senior brother Jun Zhen in the past.

“It’s gone on long enough,” Mo Yixuan vagued. He took the Heavenly Sealing Pagoda out of his sleeve and tossed it at Fei Chenling. “You’d better hold onto this.” What kind of sect leader leaves dangerous weapons in the hands of an insane man?

Fei Chenling caught it easily and frowned as he recognized the object. “Why do you—?” He instantly recalled the burst of qi fluctuation he’d sensed earlier and blurted out, “He used this against you?!”

“What else would you expect from a madman?” Mo Yixuan pointed out the obvious. “His disciple says you treat him monthly. I’d say he’s overdue for another session.”

Fei Chenling only shook his head with a sigh. “I can only help with his physical ailments. His mind, on the other hand...it’s been a lost cause for years.” But already he was crouching down to inspect Jun Zhen’s legs, eyes flickering with bits of flame as he waved his hands over the limbs. “As expected, they’ve started icing over again.”

Mo Yixuan was still processing the statement when Fei Chenling took over the handlebars of the wheelchair and started pushing it away. Seeing this, he dismissed the sound barrier and prepared to follow, only to be stopped by a call behind him.

“Shizun.”

Right, he’s still here. Mo Yixuan looked back at Nan Wuyue as Fei Chenling clicked his tongue.

“I’ll take Peak Lord Jun to the inner rooms,” the sect leader said. “Your disciple, though…”

He quickly explained the state of Nan Wuyue’s meridians to Mo Yixuan, then ended with a pointed look at the seated disciple. “What’s he playing at? He claims your training led him to such a state?”

“He wasn’t taught well enough,” Mo Yixuan’s reply was the honest truth.

“You’re not defending him again, are you, Xuan’er?!” Fei Chenling was clearly unconvinced. “He’s slandering you in front of the sect leader! I don’t understand why you keep humoring him.”

“And why do you keep defending me?” Mo Yixuan asked. “A junior brother who’s crippled his senior brother, who leaves his disciple a failure—”

“Nobody said those things!” Fei Chenling interrupted heatedly. “Where did you hear them from? I’ll give them a piece of my mind!”

“No one, I can draw my own conclusions.”

“Is it the other peak lords’ disciples? Those no good, gossiping miscreants—”

“Sect Leader,” Mo Yixuan said tersely. His cold tone immediately shut Fei Chenling up. “I could care less what they think. I only want to resolve these issues.”

He gestured to the unconscious Jun Zhen. “Is there any way to cure him?” he asked, then indicated his paralyzed disciple with his chin. “Can Nan Wuyue’s cultivation recover under your guidance?”

Fei Chenling pursed his lips, but he answered the questions openly. “Your disciple’s condition isn’t critical, so he’ll be fine with proper training. He has unusual qi reserves, but it looks like you’ve started dealing with that already. And his meridians will mend eventually as long as he trains them properly at this stage.”

Mo Yixuan nodded. “And Jun Zhen?”

Fei Chenling shook his head, glancing briefly at the boy behind them before he muttered, “I’ll talk to you after his treatment.

He quickly wheeled the unconscious peak lord into a separate room, where the doors shut behind him. A golden glow suffused the wood as multiple characters revealed themselves. Seconds later, they faded away, forming a secure seal against the outside world. For the duration of the treatment, Fei Chenling and Jun Zhen would be undisturbed.

“Shizun!”

The same couldn’t be said for Mo Yixuan. Resigned to his fate, he turned and acknowledged the boy sitting cross-legged on the long wooden chaise in the room. 

“Mm.”

Nan Wuyue was still frozen in place by his acupoints, his eyes wide as he stared at his master. “What did shizun and sect leader mean by that conversation?”

Mo Yixuan looked around for a seat, but the sect leader’s hall was infuriatingly bare. It was as if he rarely entertained any visitors. Left with no choice, he went to sit on the chaise some feet away from Nan Wuyue. “We were discussing your cultivation,” Mo Yixuan said simply. “Congratulations, you’re not beyond help.”

“But why did shizun mention ‘under the sect leader’s guidance?’” Nan Wuyue insisted. 

“I already said, I’m willing to leave you in the sect leader’s hands,” Mo Yixuan repeated patiently. “He agreed to help you train.”

“Y-you…” Nan Wuyue’s voice took on a shaky edge. “You’re giving me up?”

“You’ll be in good—”

“You can’t!” The voice was ripped out of Nan Wuyue’s throat in a snarl. Before Mo Yixuan could react, his disciple suddenly lunged across the chaise and rammed into him, slamming his master’s head and shoulders against the armrest.

“I won’t let you!” Nan Wuyue snapped as he pinned his master beneath him.

“.......” Mo Yixuan was speechless. Didn’t Fei Chenling seal his acupoints? How did he break free?

The sect leader had rendered Nan Wuyue’s body immobile, but the spiritual tendrils that helped to form his intangible second dantian had been unaffected by the sealed acupoints. They’d concentrated into a potent mass with his sudden burst of emotion, forcing through the restrictions on his body and releasing him. If this was a more complicated seal, Nan Wuyue wouldn’t be able to do anything, but Fei Chenling had clearly underestimated the boy and left him with the most basic qi-sealing acupoints. 

Mo Yixuan’s head throbbed. Although his quick healing ability ensured he wouldn’t bruise, it still hurt to bash your head against a piece of wood. He looked gingerly at the boy straddling him, all lean arms and sharp nails pressing into his shoulders, those eyes a swirl of emotion.

Strange, how his disciple looked more like the hunted than the hunter with those restless irises.

And now Nan Wuyue was seething. He dares. He really dares!

A part of him wanted to laugh. What was the point of getting a second chance when he’d be exposed so soon? There was no way he could hide his abnormal condition—those strange tendrils of transient qi—from the sect leader. Once he was exposed, he’d be strung out to dry while Mo Yixuan got the last laugh. The only reason he reached Core Formation in his first life was because of cultivating along a deviant path! A self-proclaimed “righteous sect” like theirs would never allow him to see the light of day after finding out the fact!

He hadn’t gotten a chance to take his revenge yet. He hadn’t gotten a chance to do anything!

I need to stop him, Nan Wuyue thought desperately. If I could kill him—no, I don’t have the strength—but if I could cripple him, or force him to obey—

And then Mo Yixuan headbutted him.

Thwack!

Pain exploded in Nan Wuyue’s forehead as he saw stars in front of his eyes. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back and Mo Yixuan was looming over him with a grimace. Meanwhile, the door to the sect leader’s quarters remained shut and sealed—Fei Chenling could hear nothing of the commotion outside. Nan Wuyue’s mind raced as he unconsciously called upon the single qi tendril he’d planted into Mo Yixuan’s heart. 

Nan Wuyue stared at Mo Yixuan dully. “Say you won’t do it.”

“Do what?” Mo Yixuan echoed.

“Say you won’t leave me with Fei Chenling!” Nan Wuyue snapped, and Mo Yixuan felt a sudden, lancing pain in his chest.

He ignored it to frown. “Why should I?” 

“Say it!”

Is this what they call the rebelliousness of youth? Mo Yixuan mused, then creased his brows as his chest pain intensified. He almost wondered whether he’d opened up his stab wound again. The internal energy within his body churned in response to the harsh, piercing sensation that felt like a needle buried in his flesh. They sought to grasp the invader and melt it to pieces, but the thorn suddenly turned fluid and wrapped around his heart like a vise, constricting it fiercely.

Mo Yixuan coughed in response, sensing something wrong.

Heart attack? No, it feels like there’s something inside me…

His mind recoiled at the thought even as Nan Wuyue glared daggers at him. Mo Yixuan narrowed his eyes. “What, cough, did you do?” He could sense his internal qi doing its best to dispel the strange vise, but it was as if the foreign tendril was intangible—he couldn’t grasp it no matter how he tried, as if it was a ghost.

How truly frightful.

Nan Wuyue suddenly broke into a laugh. “I won’t give you any other choice,” he promised.

If Mo Yixuan wasn’t sure before, now he was certain: Nan Wuyue was every bit as insane as Jun Zhen. This whole sect was full of nothing but lunatics! What peaceful days? What living alone and minding his own business? As soon as he stepped out the door, he was attacked by raving fanatics with a screw loose in their heads!

And to think, he had even entertained the thought of helping this disciple back on his feet. He must have lost his mind with the rest of them.

“Shizun,” Nan Wuyue went on, “I left a tendril of my qi around your Dao heart. You won’t be able to dispel it and you’re terrified of dying, so—”

“Who says I’m afraid to die?” Mo Yixuan shot back coldly. 

Nan Wuyue narrowed his eyes. “You can’t trick me with your lies.”

“Don’t assume you know a thing about me,” Mo Yixan snapped. 

Something’s off, Nan Wuyue’s doubts rang in his head. Mo Yixuan didn’t act like this. He was a coward and a cheat, someone more apt to beg for his life than suffer the slightest bit of pain.

Maybe I haven’t pushed him far enough, he reasoned to himself. His own anger and self-loathing fueled the belief. That’s right, I have to make him suffer. I need to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I might not get another chance.

For the sake of the last ten years...I won’t show him any mercy!

The pressure around Mo Yixuan’s heart increased, causing cold sweat to break out on his brow. It was akin to a fist squeezing around a ripe orange while waiting for it to burst. His arms gave way beneath him as he slid off the chaise and onto the floor. Nan Wuyue sat up but did nothing beyond stare at him with a crooked grin.

Suffer more...more!

His rage bled into a hysteric glee as the man on the ground involuntarily curled up and clutched at his chest, trying in vain to stop his agony. 

“You…” Mo Yixuan gasped out.

Nan Wuyue bared his teeth, his eyes turning bloodshot as he murmured gently, “You can beg me to stop if it’s too much.”

“Beg...you?” Mo Yixuan’s words came out raspy.

“Yes. Beg me like I used to beg you,” Nan Wuyue whispered back. His words were almost coming out as a croon as black bled into the edges of his irises like a cracked plate. “Go on. Plead for your life.”

“...hah.” Although his body was starting to spasm from the pain, Mo Yixuan suddenly relaxed. “I’ve never...begged anyone for anything…”

Nan Wuyue’s expression twisted into one of absolute loathing.

“And I...won’t...start now…!”

“You—!”

The next second, two things happened simultaneously.

One, Ouyang Che barreled into the hall and kicked the chaise hard enough to send it flying, disciple and all. The youth landed in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room before the piece of furniture crashed onto his body. He instantly spat out a mouthful of blood.

Two, Mo Yixuan’s qi surged up in terrifying waves as he clawed at his chest with his bare hands.

“Mo Yixuan!” the peak lord’s tone was severe as he brandished a gleaming sword in his hand for the first time. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Behind him, Nan Wuyue gritted his teeth and concentrated on controlling the tendril with his mind. He was done for with a witness, so he might as well give one last try and end this once and for all—

A cold blade came to rest against his throat. “Stop what you’re doing this instant,” Ouyang Che warned.

Nan Wuyue ignored him, but the next instant a pulse of qi rippled out from the sword, disrupting his focus. His hold on the tendril broke as he flailed to collect his thoughts.

Ouyang Che narrowed his eyes. “You—”

“Isn’t it...just a heart?” Mo Yixuan's exhausted voice cut him off. Freed from Nan Wuyue’s vise, he struggled to a standing position, one hand still clutching his chest. “Dao or not...what use is it to me?”

He had just died a little over two weeks ago. Before that, the deaths he had suffered and pain he endured—wasn’t it all because of the turmoil that surged through this organ of human sentimentality? 

He didn’t need it!

Ouyang Che’s eyes widened as he saw Mo Yixuan make his move. Instantly he abandoned Nan Wuyue to rush at his junior brother. “You absolute fo—!!”

A roaring wall of qi surged out from Mo Yixuan and stopped the peak lord dead in his tracks. Blinding light filled the room in its wake, forcing him to shield his eyes. By the time he looked back, it was already too late.

Mo Yixuan stood quiet and pale in the center of a qi storm, his eyes fixated on something in his hand. It was about the size of a fist and glowed softly with a blue-tinged shimmer like a rare jewel. A ghostly wisp of black was wrapped firmly around its body, twitching softly. As Mo Yixuan narrowed his eyes, the object in his hands suddenly flared with brilliance. With a soft hiss, the tendril crumbled away into ashes in the air.

Nan Wuyue abruptly convulsed and spat up another mouthful of blood at the destruction of his true qi. He stared at the sight before him in disbelief.

Dao heart. He ripped his Dao heart right out of his body!

Is he insane?!?

Blood flowed down the front of Mo Yixuan’s robes while staining his fingers and arm crimson. Oddly enough he felt no pain, only a numbing coldness that was slowly spreading throughout his body. The heart in his hands beat with every breath he took, pulsing gently in his palm. It was still attached to the rest of him by its veins and arteries.

“In the end...it wasn’t difficult to dig you out at all,” Mo Yixuan muttered, ignoring a fresh trail of scarlet flowing from his lips. 

He knew it.

Matters of the heart...had always been one massive joke.

—