Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

bgm: the lord amidst the clouds  (translation)
before sunset

Cultivators purified and strengthened their bodies with each level they advanced. Bones grew strong as iron, skin turned soft and flawless, and the five senses sharper and more sensitive. Two key components formed the basis of every improvement: the dantian in the abdomen that housed their golden cores and the Dao-enlightened heart that beat with their convictions.

Golden cores gave strength to a cultivator’s abilities and both created and stored qi in the body. They made up the brawns. Dao hearts were an amalgamation of the memorized Way and Laws of a cultivation path. They made up the brains. Each was also considered a fatal weak point, for a cultivator with a shattered core would never be strong, while one with an unsteady heart would simply fall astray or lose his mind to cultivation insanity. Their path was a narrow one with no twists and turns; one had to reach the very end to truly attain enlightenment.

Ouyang Che felt a faint sheen of sweat break out across his brow. It didn’t take an idiot to tell that Mo Yixuan was teetering on a knife’s edge. With his current recovery abilities, exposing his Dao heart wouldn’t take his life.

But the outburst of qi around him is too dangerous! 

The energy clung to Mo Yixuan like smoke as it surged off his body in waves. If he were to exhaust all his qi reserves—the lifeblood of any cultivator—his life would be in danger. If any of those tendrils lost control and lashed out against the heart, he would be as good as dead. Ouyang Che had no idea what state of mind Mo Yixuan was in now. After speaking that single line, the man had fallen silent to stare at the organ in his hands. Blood continued to stream down from the gaping wound in his chest—at this rate, the entire left side of his robes would be dyed red.

With a thump, Nan Wuyue moved the chaise off him and crawled to his feet. He was cradling his left arm, which hung at a slightly awkward angle. 

“Shizun?” he tried.

Nothing. He took a step forward and was instantly met with a sword at his throat.

“Stay back,” Ouyang Che warned. He didn’t even bother looking at Nan Wuyue, but his threat was real.

Nan Wuyue froze in place but didn’t stop staring at his master with a conflicted expression. “If we don’t do something…”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Ouyang Che shot back. 

“I…” Nan Wuyue trailed off, suddenly unsure. If this was his Mo Yixuan, then he would be gloating to the high heavens by now. But the man he had tortured was someone completely different, a cultivator with a backbone whose convictions glittered blindingly in plain sight. He had difficulty connecting him to the sham master who had abused him in the past.

“In any case, you’re too weak to make a difference,” Ouyang Che went on. “But if he dies, I’ll make sure you aren’t far behind.”

Nan Wuyue stiffened. His first reaction was to bolt, but his stubborn pride kept him here instead of fleeing like a stray dog. Still, his hands clenched into fists. Useless! All I can do is watch.

Dammit, it’s all because I lost control of my temper.

Nan Wuyue’s head bowed, hiding the doubts in his eyes.

How did I...make a mistake? 

—

Another trickle of sweat flowed down Ouyang Che’s head. By his calculations, the sect leader never took more than an hour to treat Jun Zhen, but it seemed he’d only sealed himself in recently. Meanwhile, Mu Yelian had gone out today to lead her core disciples in training, leaving Mt. Luojia devoid of its peak lord.

Contacting the other peak lords was currently out of the question with inter-sect tensions so tense. There was no telling whether the members of the opposing faction in Star Pavilion Sect would seize this chance to turn things to their advantage. 

Could he break the seal to force Fei Chenling out? Possibly, but it would take massive effort and waste too much time.

Could he send a message to Mu Yelian for help? Yes, but there was no telling whether she’d make it back soon enough. He sent one anyways via his messenger of choice: a folded paper pinwheel that quickly puffed out of existence to seek its receiver.

What about reaching out to Mo Yixuan directly? The man hadn’t responded the first time, but he could try again. It was also the least likely method to startle him now.

Ouyang Che knitted his brows and called out. “Junior brother!”

The chaotic surge of qi left Mo Yixuan’s robes and hair helplessly wild against the wind, yet the man himself seemed absolutely frozen in thought. It was as if Ouyang Che was talking to a block of ice.

Ouyang Che raised his voice and tried again. “Peak Lord Mo! Mo Yixuan!” He cautiously sent out a tendril of his own qi towards his martial brother, but no sooner had it touched the man than it recoiled to stab Ouyang Che sharply in his arm. Whether he was aware of it or not, Mo Yixuan’s energy was currently completely hostile to all comers.

A small red puddle was also starting to form beneath his feet. Seeing this, Ouyang Che grew more anxious. If he faints from blood loss with his Dao heart like that—!

He was just about ready to risk it and charge straight in, qi

recoil be damned, when a burst of wind slammed into the hall. Ouyang Che’s footing slid back while Nan Wuyue was sent directly crashing into the walls again. This time, he couldn’t get back up as an overwhelming pressure bore upon the space. It was as if the air had solidified into a slab of metal and was crushing down on his body. He had to bend over just to breathe, taking labored gasps from his mouth. 

Ouyang Che was somewhat better, but even his head and shoulders felt the strain of the sudden weight. The source of the pressure came from outside, so Mo Yixuan wasn’t to blame. But trying to guess who it could be instead left a pool of dread in his gut. 

This was the hall of Star Pavilion Sect’s leader. Few had the right to trespass upon its halls, much less break through the wards that blanketed the entire peak.

Meanwhile, Mo Yixuan didn’t even blink. Bits of snow borne in by the gust stuck to his face and hair like chunks of cut crystals.

A harried Ouyang Che readied his sword while scanning the hall for enemies. Not for the first time, he cursed Fei Chenling’s naturally robust yang constitution that made him leave every single door and window open in the hall at all times. 

“Mo Yixuan, come to your senses!” he shouted, “This isn’t the time to lose it!”

When the same old silence greeted him, Ouyang Che grit his teeth and strode forward, only to run into a wall.

No. To put it more precisely, his limbs had been frozen in place by the pressure that now increased tenfold in the hall. Behind him, Nan Wuyue choked and even the sect leader’s seals flared back into sight in warning, their shining sigils flickering wildly before the unknown threat.

The next second, the sensation was gone. Ouyang Che took a deep breath before his head whipped up—someone was here! Moreover, he was standing right between him and Mo Yixuan!

“You—who are you?”

The man had his back to Ouyang Che but radiated silent strength. He was easily over six feet tall, with long black hair half-piled into a knot atop his head and secured carelessly with a white ribbon. What might have looked slovenly on an ordinary disciple only gave him a free and easygoing air. He was dressed in robes of silk, plain and pale-hued between shades of dawn blue and washed lavender, his hands crossed casually behind his back.

When Ouyang Che spoke, he only turned his head slightly to give a glimpse of fine sharp brows and clear, clean brown eyes.

“Excuse the drop-by visit,” a low, rich voice flowed out of his lips like wine dribbling into a cup. “It isn’t everyday that something calls me from Jadecloud Peak.”

Jadecloud Peak?!

The gears in Ouyang Che’s head spun. Wasn’t that the ancient border between the Higher and Middle Realms? Back in the days of gods, cultivators who ascended to immortality would frequently cross its mountains, but those were simply distant myths now. No more did humanity give birth to candidates who were worthy of the mantle of divinity. Jadecloud Peak was thus abandoned, though legends said that a single cultivator from the olden days stayed behind to guard its mountains.

He was a carefree eccentric with no ties to the mortal world or its woes, a self-proclaimed literati who dabbled in paints and brushes instead of swords. And yet his might was so terrifying that not even the strongest sect masters in the land could stand alone against him in a fight.

As time passed, they knew him as the half-immortal Lord Amidst the Clouds—Shi Feng (世風).

“Junior Ouyang Che of Star Pavilion Sect greets senior Shi Feng!” Ouyang Che hastily cupped his hands.

“No need for formalities,” Shi Feng waved and strode ahead. 

Mo Yixuan’s qi spiked aggressively towards him in response, but Shi Feng simply raised his hand and pushed. Ouyang Che assumed that he would shrug off the ensuing recoil like nothing, yet to his surprise there was no attack at all. Instead, the qi tendrils flickered past Shi Feng’s arm harmlessly before dissipating into the air.

Within five steps, Shi Feng was standing right in front of the unresponsive man. Both Ouyang Che and Nan Wuyue tensed at the sight, the former with expectation, the latter with a mix of confusion and some fear. 

Of course, Nan Wuyue had heard the famed name of the Shi Feng from his past life, but that hermit sage hadn’t lifted so much as a finger when he started wrecking havoc in the cultivation sects. He couldn’t fathom what the man was doing here now. 

But his instincts told him to keep his distance.

—

Shi Feng slowly examined Mo Yixuan from head to toe, taking in his blood-soaked robes and gleaming Dao heart with equal calm. Although Mo Yixuan was still staring at his steal, his pupils had long lost focus, their gaze vacant. When Shi Feng leaned in to have a better look at his face, the wisps of qi still streaming off Mo Yixuan’s body naturally parted for him with no resistance.

Shi Feng straightened up with a hum to himself. “I see.” 

What do you see?  Ouyang Che wanted to yell, but held himself back. Behind him, Nan Wuyue didn’t even dare to blink.

Shi Feng reached out slowly and cradled Mo Yixuan’s left hand in his right. The blood quickly stained his fingers, but the half-immortal ignored it to give Mo Yixuan a small nudge.

“That’s enough now,” he soothed. “You can put it back.”

Mo Yixuan’s eyes flickered as if he heard. But he didn’t move until Shi Feng guided him once more. The two of them awkwardly brought the Dao heart back towards Mo Yixuan’s body, where it suddenly gleamed before nestling into his chest. The next second, his skin began to heal over as the bleeding stopped and the wound gradually closed up. Still Mo Yixuan didn’t move, his bloodied hand sitting limply in Shi Feng’s palm as he stood there in silence.

His partner sighed quietly before extending his left pointer and index fingers. Swiftly they jabbed Mo Yixuan in the center of the forehead, sending a jolt of qi through the skull that left the peak lord reeling. Seconds later, dark blue irises fluttered shut and the chaotic of flow of energy around Mo Yixuan’s body cut to a halt as he lost consciousness. Before the man could land on his face, Shi Feng wrapped an arm around Mo Yixuan’s back and guided him to rest gently against his shoulder.

Only then did he turn around and ask, “Who is this?”

“My junior brother,” Ouyang Che supplied instantly. “Peak Lord Mo Yixuan of Mt. Jingting.”

“Mm,” Shi Feng acknowledged. “I’ll be borrowing him for awhile.”

“Wai—” was all Ouyang Che managed to say, because the next second both Shi Feng and his target had disappeared from the hall.

Ouyang Che ran all the way to the doors, but didn’t even catch a speck of them in the surrounding snow or sky.

This doesn’t count as kidnapping…right? Jadecloud Peak could be considered a neighboring ally and Shi Feng a person they knew, even if only indirectly. In any case, he wouldn’t mistreat a peak lord of Star Pavilion Sect. Yet what could he want with Mo Yixuan in the first place?

Did he sense Yixuan’s instability and came to help out? Ouyang Che could only clutch at straws. But that’s not like him. If I remember correctly, senior Shi Feng hasn’t left Jadecloud Peak in over 1,000 years...

“Peak Lord Ouyang, what happened?”

Startled by the voice, Ouyang Che turned to see a young disciple running towards him. He recognized it as Jun Zhen’s boy.

“How long ago did you leave?” Ouyang Che asked suddenly.

The boy shook his head. “Not long. Sect leader said he would summon me, but I sensed something strange at the peak and ran back. I was worried something had gone wrong during master’s treatment…”

“The sect leader’s wards were broken,” Ouyang Che turned grim.

“Ah?!”

“The sect leader and your master are fine,” he went on, turning his mind briskly to business. “I’ll need to guard the hall until they emerge, but I want you to do this in the meantime…”

Left to his own devices in a corner, Nan Wuyue could only stare at them both in silence.

—

High above the Middle Realms, Shi Feng stepped on yet another cloud to launch himself up into the air. When it came to lightness techniques, his mastery was such that unassisted sustained flight was only an afterthought. Yet what made the feat more impressive was the extra person he was bringing along.

His right hand hung by his side, the fingers still red with blood; his left wrapped firmly around Mo Yixuan’s waist while the sleeping man’s head hung forward. Shi Feng’s eyes were fixed firmly above them as the layers and layers of clouds eventually gave way to reveal a floating oasis in the air.

These were the remnants of Jadecloud Peak. When the Higher and Middle Realms separated, the gods above had forbade a connection to their realm and severed off a piece of the mountain to toss to the skies. The reason why they hadn’t sealed the entire mountain away was because Shi Feng had been there at the time and stubbornly refused to leave.

With one last leap, he landed on the grassy base of the airborne island.

—