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Chapter Text

Mo Xuanyu gets caught.

Mo Xuanyu is afraid- he will not lie- but he doesn't know why now . 

It's been months since he called upon the malevolent spirits that floated around Mo Village and used them for his own purposes. What else could he do? He hadn’t formed a golden core yet and he was already weak from the numerous injuries he had.

Mo Xuanyu had thought then, that it would be better to die, to just cut a deep enough gash into his arm and let himself bleed out. Of course, that simple plan was before he realised he could offer his body to the Yiling Patriarch in return for revenge. The Soul Summoning ritual was one he had studied in the light of a small candle, head bent and paper littered all over the floor.

But there was a problem.

Whatever anyone said about him- and people said a lot about him- there were a few truths. One of them was that he was a coward, and Mo Xuanyu will admit to this because he was. He had been too much of a coward to stop his cousin, and later, his bullies. He had been too much of a coward to speak out about what he knew about his- about Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang and Su She. It didn't come as a surprise to him that he'd be a coward when facing death too. The thought of the act itself terrified him, and even if it didn't, there was still another major problem…

The Yiling Patriarch was lost.

Or rather, his soul was. Mo Xuanyu had heard the various rumours, about the summonings, about the Inquiries played, about the relentless hunt for a body that was not there. If the Patriarch didn't want to be found, how could he, Mo Xuanyu, summon him? What would happen if he died trying to summon the Patriarch’s soul only for it not to work? 

What would happen was this: Mo Xuanyu would be found lying dead in an array drawn in his own blood. How would that help him achieve his revenge? His efforts would be for naught.

And so, Mo Xuanyu had bided his time and tended to his injuries as much as he could. He stopped exerting so much energy and did not tear gashes into his own arms to power his talismans or arrays. When his cousin and the servants came to taunt and punch him, Mo Xuanyu gritted his teeth, bore the pain and vowed to repay it tenfold. There was work to be done.

On a moonless night, Mo Xuanyu had called forth the spirits that haunted Mo Village and watched from his flimsy little shed as the walls spattered with blood and screams abruptly cut off. The modified and more specific Spirit Lure talisman that he had stuck onto the walls had effectively channeled the spirits’ resentment onto particular members of the household. When the spirits quenched their thirst for blood, they retreated. The air turned suddenly vacant in their absence and things would seem normal if it weren’t for the limbs strewn around the once pristine courtyard, intestines ripped out and strung along like a particularly gruesome ornament and walls streaked in red as if for a wedding. 

Mo Xuanyu gathered the last bit of his strength, broke open the doors and gathered all the valuables he could find. He would need robes- clothes that weren’t tattered or torn- would need to buy food to keep him going, and once far enough away, enough money to buy a small house somewhere.

Mo Xuanyu would be long gone by the time the Jiang disciples would arrive after getting a plea for help from the terrified villagers, but Jiang-zongzhu knows all too well what demonic cultivation looks like- has spent so much of his time pinpointing the sources and chasing such people that he understands at once. The remains of the people inside are barely existing, blood and bone lying about as if they were in a graveyard- torn apart so completely that they all wonder what could have caused so much resentment. It is hard to tell which body part belongs to who but they clean up the mess and Jiang-zongzhu narrows his eyes when he hears of the lunatic thrown out of Jinlintai, abhorred by the last masters of the Manor.

But Mo Xuanyu does not know of this, several li away already by virtue of coaxing his stubborn donkey forward with a red apple. He stays hidden in the forests, green robes draping him and silver threads of moonlight spun like cobwebs on the surface of the rivers and streams he comes by. Days pass, Mo Xuanyu runs. 

One day, he thinks he’s run far enough to wash off the paint on his face- no more the lunatic of Mo Manor, no more the illegitimate and unwanted bastard of a cultivator father, no more the disgusting cutsleeve who dared to set sights on his own brother. He’s just Xuanyu now, maybe even something else if he wished to be- if he could bear the thought of leaving the only thing his mother gave him behind as well. He could be Xuanyu, not Mo, not Jin- just Xuanyu, and he would ride his donkey till he stopped- or maybe he wouldn’t stop at all- maybe he’d settle down somewhere, maybe he’d-

His thoughts are his only companions and Lil Apple as well of course. Briefly, he’d entertain the idea that everyone thought him dead and that maybe Yao-ge would- 

But no, he wouldn’t. He’s the one that sent him away, there’s no reason for him to grieve for a brother, not in the way Xuanyu had grieved when he learned what treachery meant. Jin Guangyao wouldn’t and Qin Su, his kind, sweet sister-in-law wouldn’t either. She had been disgusted by him the last time he saw her. But then who would? 

His mother would have- if she had been alive. His father wouldn’t. Jin-furen had hated his guts and she wasn’t alive right now anyway so no use even wondering. Jin Guangyao’s Er-ge had been nice to him but he was just being polite. Some of the servants in Mo Manor had been kind- would make sure he at least had rags to wrap and rub the blood off after his cousin’s ‘visits,’ but they only pitied him. Would- would Nie-zongzhu? They weren’t friends and Nie-zongzhu is important- but they only knew each other through Sao-zi and Jin Guangyao, even though he had learned about art and fans and face paint from the man. But no, Nie-zongzhu had Jin Guangyao and his own sect to worry about. So who was left then? His nephew only saw him very rarely and they didn’t have a close bond and he was always working so hard to please Jin Guangyao anyways- to earn his keep.

Huh, Xuanyu thought, urging Lil Apple along, there really isn’t anyone to mourn me, who would care if I was gone. This thought should probably have made him sadder than he currently was, but Xuanyu had gone through worse- his entire life had been hell from the moment he had been born- and these past few days had been one of his few happy moments. He was thankful. No one to mourn him, no one would get hurt or sad by caring for him, and no one would look for him. It was almost too perfect.

And as they say, if something is too good to be true…

Mo Xuanyu gets caught.

Chapter Text

It happens deep in the grasp of the forest, in thick darkness and swirling resentment. The resentment is not called forth by Xuanyu and the source of it wafting suddenly through the air reminds him of the numerous stories he’s heard about the many demonic cultivators running wild throughout the Jianghu creating havoc.

And how they are brought down.

Xuanyu is in the forest, with not even a proper golden core and with numerous injuries. Sure, he uses demonic cultivation himself, but he doesn’t do it to harm people (the Mos don’t count). If he’s attacked…

He looks down at his fingers, briefly letting go of the reins on Lil Apple, to wonder if he can bite them hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t want to risk taking blood from his arms again- it would be too much, too soon.

That’s when Xuanyu looks up and sees the flash of lightning. Lil Apple brays loudly, and Xuanyu tries to calm it down, whispering softly. Then almost all of a sudden, it hits him- 

There is no thunder, no rumbling to accompany the lightning. 

Xuanyu lets go of the reins once again, hand reaching into his robes to find his small stack of prepared talismans. He looks around and only notices the lightning, flashing all around him- so close to him and all-encompassing in its bright shade that he can’t tell where it’s coming from. He is turned towards the resentment and so he doesn’t see the wide sweep of flashing purple that comes towards him from behind- quickly and without warning, the footsteps of the cultivator masked by his years of training and experience.

By the time Xuanyu looks back, body only half-turned, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. The man behind him barks something out in a thunderous voice. Mo Xuanyu doesn’t register it because pain splits his back before something snakes around his torso and tightens around him. The pain is, surprisingly, concentrated only at his back, radiating only for that brief moment it made contact before suddenly reeling back like dogs called back to their master. 

But it’s enough to undo him and the measly progress he has made with his injuries. 

The last thing he hears is something like a curse…

***

Xuanyu wakes somewhere warm, the ceiling bright with the sunlight softened by the paper screens of the windows and bouncing off of it. There are blankets drawn up to cover him and he registers the slightly rough texture of the bindings on his forearms when he moves them. He is warm and comfortable but he has no clue where he is. 

“Ah- so you’re finally awake.”

Xuanyu startles at the feminine voice, slightly rough and tired. A woman steps into his field of vision, adorned in stiff travel clothes of a deep violet shade. What looks to be a small pendant hangs at her waist. It looks- not familiar, but he’s sure he’s seen it somewhere.

The woman frowns at him. “No funny business,” she says, and leaves the room with brisk steps.

Xuanyu is too tired to disobey and besides, he’s learned the hard way what happens when he does things that people don’t like. So he lies there, wondering just who exactly it is that’s caught him. Definitely cultivators, hopefully not a sect that knows the Jins or deals with them very closely. Maybe he can pass himself off as someone else-

The door opens quickly- the woman hadn’t been gone long enough at all- but it is not her that comes through. The face is familiar to him as are the violet robes and the man’s fierce face.

Xuanyu’s freezes from scrambling up in the bed and stares. 

Sandu Shengshou. 

Sandu Shengshou has caught him.

“Mo Xuanyu,” he says, voice almost a growl, standing tall and far, far too close to the side of the bed. Xuanyu feels a tendril of fear nudge its way inside his ribcage, settling along his heart and pulsing in time to the rhythm.

“J- Jiang-zongzhu-” he manages.

Jiang-zongzhu does not waste his time. “What happened at Mo Village?”

Xuanyu swallows. He’s done for.

“I- I-” he swallows, looking away from the unimpressed face before him. “There- were ghosts, I think, malevolent spirits- “

Jiang-zongzhu continues to look unimpressed as he stares down at Mo Xuanyu, face drawn into a scowl. Xuanyu is sure he took back the spirit lure flag- nothing there can be used against him anymore.

“And the ghosts- the spirits- they...they killed the rest of...my...family. I was in my room and I couldn’t- I heard the screams but I didn’t know what was happening until it all stopped so suddenly. I was too- too scared to come out-”

“Scared?! Weren’t you with the Jins before? What sort of a cultivator are you?” Jiang-zongzhu interrupts.

Xuanyu’s voice knocks against his throat, unable to come out as he looks down at his bandaged hands. 

“I- I was- I wasn’t able to form a golden core,” he says finally, voice quiet. His eyes rest on the bandages, neatly and tightly wrapped around the big gashes on his arms. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Jiang-zongzhu shift.

“Then?” He prompts, after a moment.

“I was scared,” Xuanyu says simply. “I never- liked it at Mo Manor. So I got some money and- and decided to leave.”

“What?” Jiang-zongzhu asks, voice harsh, “just like that? You mean to tell me that your family gets murdered, you somehow become the only survivor, and you decide to leave just like that?”

Xuanyu shrivels up in the bed, head lowered so much that his chin is tucked against his chest.

“They never treated me...well,” he whispers. He hates this. He wants to leave. Does one more person really need to know how much of a coward he is?

“How did you get those cuts on your arms?”

“It was from...my cousin,” he says, voice low. Xuanyu knows his cousin is dead, ripped to shreds and dead with not even a proper body just as he deserves- but Xuanyu is still angry. 

Jiang-zongzhu huffs. “So you just up and leave? Did it not occur to you that the innocent people of Mo Village could also be attacked by whatever killed your family?”

Xuanyu looks up, not directly but enough to see the face of the man before him.

“I- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry,” he squeaks.

The man rolls his eyes, “you weren’t thinking alright but I’m not the one who you owe an apology to.”

Xuanyu shifts uncomfortably in the bed. He wants to ask if Jiang-zongzhu will let him go, but he doesn’t. Jiang-zongzhu hasn’t asked a question for him to answer, so it might not be wise to open his mouth. His aunt certainly didn’t appreciate it.

Jiang-zongzhu spears Xuanyu with a glance before leaving, strides even and powerful. 

Xuanyu takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them, he gets the shock of his life as he sees the woman from before setting down a tray with food without a noise; he didn’t even hear her footsteps.

“Eat your food. The healer who came by said you’re awfully thin and unhealthy, not to mention you have several injuries and cuts that haven’t healed over yet and no golden core to boot-”

Ah, Xuanyu thinks bitterly, so they’ve already learned how weak he really is.

“ -and you must not leave this room. Jiang-zongzhu had ordered a disciple to keep watch inside this room but since you are awake, he has allowed one to stand guard outside.”

You won’t be able to leave, Xuanyu hears, so no point making a fuss, no point even trying.

She leaves as silently as she came in and Xuanyu shivers.

***

A Jiang disciple stops his zongzhu on his way to the rooms. In the disciple’s grasp is a worn bag with loose pages sticking out. 

“What is it?” The zongzhu asks, eyeing the bag.

“Zongzhu, these are the belongings of Mo Xuanyu. We took them from his donkey intending to give them to him but some things fell out…”

“And?” 

The disciple hesitates. “Zongzhu, I- We think the contents might... interest you.”

The disciple holds out the bag, face betraying his wariness.

Jiang-zongzhu takes the bag with the papers from his disciple, nods to him and retires to his rooms.