Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

Before Mo Yixuan could press him for details, Ouyang Che looked out the window and clicked his tongue. “Seems like I’m running late. Let’s talk again another day, junior brother!”

Mo Yixuan grabbed Ouyang Che by the sleeve before he could slip out the door. “You haven’t finished explaining yet!”

“That gives me an excuse to visit again,” Ouyang Che gave him a cheeky look. “Of course, nothing’s stopping you from investigating the two yourself.”

“Didn’t you just tell me to avoid them?”

“Are you really going to listen to every single thing I say?” Ouyang Che blinked at him. “While I’m flattered, doesn’t that make you seem like a fool?”

The sudden insult made Mo Yixuan start. In his last life, he’d been screwed over precisely because he took too many things spoken at face value. Why was he still repeating the same mistakes? Even if he knew nothing about this world, Ouyang Che wasn’t his only source of intel!

“I’m joking!” Ouyang Che’s laugh broke through his train of thoughts. By the time Mo Yixuan looked up, the other peak lord was already deactivating his sound barrier and strolling out the door. “As long as you mean no harm to the sect, I’ll have no ill will towards you, Mo Yixuan.”

Mo Yixuan dashed after him, but Ouyang Che was already out of sight by the time he emerged from the kitchens. A rush of irritation filled him as his eyes swept across the courtyard, finally resting on the figure of the teen dressed in black who had finished washing the dishes. Sensing his master’s look, Nan Wuyue dried his hands and picked up the basin full of plates and cutlery.

“Shizun, I’m done.”

“Mm.” Mo Yixuan responded noncommittally.

“Then, I’ll be putting these awa—”

“Hold it,” Mo Yixuan interrupted when Nan Wuyue was about to move. “Let me take a look at you.”

As the boy froze in his tracks, Mo Yixuan strode up to him and inspected him from head to toe. Once again, too skinny rose up in his mind as his lips curled in dissatisfaction. How was he supposed to justify beating up a waif like this? Wouldn’t it just be child abuse?

Sweat had soaked through the back of Nan Wuyue’s shirt and dotted his forehead as he stood rigidly for his master’s examination. Once more, it was an oddly clinical process that only involved looking at him from a distance; his current master had long forsaken the head pats and shoulder squeezes so favored by the fatherly Mo Yixuan of old. Of course, he thought sardonically, the fact that I saw him as family at all shows how childish I used to be.

Everything else aside, his stomach was killing him. He really needed to use the restr—

“Still not enough,” Mo Yixuan muttered, breaking Nan Wuyue from his thoughts. His head shot up, but his master was already walking away.

“Shizun?” he called out.

Mo Yixuan paused as he looked back at the thin, solitary form. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to give the boy a little bit of advance warning? Ouyang Che had said to attack him by surprise, but Nan Wuyue looked as frail as a stick! The type who’d break a bone if he so much as threw a pebble at him! With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Mo Yixuan voiced his intentions.

“...I won’t try to kill you today,” he stated calmly. “But starting tomorrow, I’ll take every chance that I get. Be prepared.”

He saw the minute widening of Nan Wuyue’s pupils and silently approved. Good, it seemed like the boy had gotten the message.

“It’s for your own good,” he added after a pause.

“Is this another part of my training?” Nan Wuyue asked quietly.

There was something bitter about the way he phrased his question. Mo Yixuan tried to imagine him at age 15 (really 15 plus 10 years), having given his all up for a sect with a worthless master who spurned him. Perhaps the repeated disappointments had only led to numb resignation.

“It’s another way to fix it,” Mo Yixuan answered at long last. How was he supposed to convince the boy he meant well? Even if he explained Ouyang Che’s diagnosis, would Nan Wuyue take it at face value? Tact and diplomacy had never been one of his strong points, and he’d left all the social niceties to Shangguan Yin when the man joined his department—but that thought was quickly snuffed out before other memories of the man could crop up and blacken his mood.

“Alright,” the voice replied. Mo Yixuan blinked and looked up.Unexpectedly, he was suddenly met with a pair of fiery, determined eyes. Something seemed to have ignited Nan Wuyue up from within as he stared at Mo Yixuan with such intensity that it almost felt like a glare.

“I’ll be ready,” his disciple declared.

Before Mo Yixuan could nod again, he had to dodge a qi blast from his disciple. When he looked back, Nan Wuyue had vanished from sight, abandoning his basin of dishes on the ground. A voice spoke from behind him, and the peak lord turned to see his disciple standing above him in a tree.

“I’m tired of playing games, too. Tomorrow, I’ll attack you right back!”

Isn’t this supposed to be one-sided training?

Mo Yixuan had a feeling that Nan Wuyue had misunderstood something from the start. On the other hand, it was good to get used to combat in this body. If he ever needed to defend himself, practicing with his disciple was far safer than duking it out with another peak lord. Besides, a little bit of boyish determination was better than a sopping wet, masochistic mess pleading for more punishment.

“Mm,” he replied. “Continue training when you’re ready.”

As he gracefully glided away, Nan Wuyue kept his eyes on him until his figure vanished—then bolted for the restroom at the first opportunity. Afterwards, he found a quiet place to think.

So this was it.

Mo Yixuan had admitted his intentions!

He never thought the day would come when the conniving, two-faced peak lord of Mt. Jingting would tear off his mask. But here it was, plain and simple: Mo Yixuan wanted to murder him outright, and he’d start in earnest beginning tomorrow! For his own good? It was more likely the peak lord had seen too many suspicious points about him and wanted him gone. Although the death of a core disciple would usually raise eyebrows, he’d been so thoroughly reduced to a good-for-nothing waste that most would only greet his passing with a sigh of relief for his beleaguered master.

Strange were the rules of the weak that looked down upon those oppressing them, yet turned a blind eye if the victim was already dead. Swift had his master moved, skipping from successive disasters in previous months to a final solution. Stupid were his doubts, that tried to find sympathy for a man who had murdered mercy in his own two hands.

Nan Wuyue reasoned that it must have been Mo Yixuan’s insufferable pride that made him announce his plans ahead of time. Perhaps he thought Nan Wuyue was too weak to make a difference against him in the time between now and tomorrow. Perhaps he was even mockingly giving him a chance to run away and never come back. Nan Wuyue had plans to counter the former, while the latter wasn’t even an option!

He, Nan Wuyue, had been born an orphan with nothing to his name until Star Pavilion Sect took him in. His future had been bright, his prospects endless—all until the day Peak Lord Mo Yixuan took him in as a core disciple. If there was anyone who needed to leave the sect, it was his master! Recalling his past life, he could still remember clearly the moment Mo Yixuan’s sword pierced through his chest. Its haunting blue glow and the feeling of icy coldness spreading through his veins had left a dark shadow upon his heart.

Now was the time to let it loose.

—

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, at least in Mo Yixuan’s eyes. He watched over Nan Wuyue’s training in the afternoon, correcting mistakes where he saw them. The boy was quick to pick up the right method—learning so smoothly that Mo Yixuan wondered how someone so intelligent could have made such simple, yet devastating, mistakes in the first place.

Obviously, “Mo Yixuan” had taken care to stunt Nan Wuyue’s growth in more ways than he or Ouyang Che could guess.

Dinner was another simple affair, and then it was time to hit the books for his young disciple. Of course, that’s when Mo Yixuan discovered that the original host had given his student the completely wrong books. Both through the text—he could only pick up vague meanings from what were meant to be standard instructions—and the mild headache he got just from trying to recite its erroneous list of mantras. He ended up having Nan Wuyue build a fire and burn the volumes, wearing a dark expression the entire time. Better to destroy trash than risk it bringing more harm into the world.

While Nan Wuyue did as his master told, he wasn’t pleased about it. Here was direct evidence of his master’s misdeeds! Mo Yixuan must be trying to clean his slate before moving against him, so he’d dragged Nan Wuyue in as an accomplice for the cover-up! Fortunately, he managed to nick a few pages and stuff them into his robes without his master noticing. Beyond the simple instructions, Mo Yixuan had been extremely quiet and withdrawn all day, too lost within his own thoughts.

When everything was finally done, both master and disciple headed towards the main building, where Nan Wuyue cupped his hands and bowed.

“Shizun, there wasn’t time to wash the sheets today. Please allow this disciple to change them into fresh ones before you go to sleep.”

Mo Yixuan wanted to explain that he was going to meditate tonight and didn’t need the bed, but all that came out of his mouth was a noncommittal “Mmm.” Thus, Nan Wuyue slipped into his bedroom while he headed for the study.

Nan Wuyue really did replace the sheets and bedding, folding the ones he used in a corner so he could take them out for washing tomorrow. It was quiet and serene here, just like the last few days he’d stayed in the room. Nothing about the surroundings suggested the fight that would take place tomorrow.

Perhaps it was the fact that he’d never stepped in here in his past life, but Mo Yixuan’s bedchambers left no bad memories in Nan Wuyue’s head. Instead, there was only the recollection of his master feeding him, finding the dragon pearl without being caught, and the faint scent of pine and mist that Mo Yixuan had gotten over the past few days. Apparently, his master favored strolling around Mt. Jingting when he wasn’t attending to his disciple.

Strangely enough, he didn’t remember his master ever being interested in such things in the past. The same doubts as before rose in his head: who was Mo Yixuan?

What did he really learn in his 25 years and two lives? Even Ouyang Che, his old ally, had turned against him in this lifetime! Besides himself, what else could have changed?

Could Mo Yixuan have come back to this time as well?

No, he was certain the man would be furious enough to kill him on sight before now. Mo Yixuan was popular and well-liked except for a discerning few; such an action would only raise ripples, not waves. It didn’t make sense for him to tolerate his disciple for so long if he knew the future.

Whatever the case, it seemed like his time was running out. But whether by chance or inattention, Mo Yixuan had once again left him in the most protected space within Mt. Jingting’s residences. Just as the wards in the bedrooms kept intruders out, they also made it impossible for anyone to detect what was going on inside. A simple tendril of qi planted into the walls activated an incantation that would seal the space from all visitors temporarily—or at least delay his master before he charged in. Nan Wuyue wasn’t going to steal anything this time, but he did have his own secrets to hide.

Slowly, Nan Wuyue sat down cross-legged and began to concentrate. The qi within his body began to gather and swirl in his dantian region, forming complex patterns of energy around his abdomen. Gradually, the internal energy began to form a vortex that surrounded a small, sphere-shaped vortex at the very center of his dantian.

Meanwhile, Nan Wuyue’s cultivation levels begin to rise: from Qi Condensation to Foundation Establishment, climbing ever incredibly higher until it broke past the mid-tier, then upper-tier, then the peak…

At this moment, the spherical space in the middle of Nan Wuyue’s dantian flickered briefly, then showed glimpses of a pitch-black core.

When he had died in his first life, his body had broken through the Core Formation stage. Cultivation levels were determined by the strength of one’s body and soul, and Nan Wuyue’s current spirit held memories of his life from the future. Whatever had dragged him back and stuffed him into his younger body had boosted his cultivation state to match—at least on the spiritual level. His body was still that of a fifteen year old boy, but his internal qi was greatly mismatched, being stronger and vaster. If he concentrated, he could grasp hints of his old power like this for brief periods of time.

The core in his dantian shimmered like an afterimage, half in and half out. It seemed to know that it was a paradox here, and refused to stabilize its form. It wouldn’t have made much of a difference against Mo Yixuan’s peak level Core Formation stage anyways, but Nan Wuyue wasn’t expecting any miracles.

All he needed was a single chance to set a trap.