In the gentle morning hours, a heartwarming scene unfolded as a father and his son took to the corridor for a playful run, their laughter and camaraderie echoing through the quiet neighbourhood. The cool breeze ruffled their hair and the world seemed to slow down as they shared this simple yet profound moment of togetherness. Each step expressed pure joy, their bond reinforced through smiles and shared enthusiasm. As they raced side by side, the world bore witness to a sacred sect of familial affection, where the exhilaration of the present moment illuminated the path of their shared adventure, reminding them that love, and laughter are the ties that truly bind generations.
Mingyun led the way to the dinner area, with his father, Wuzhi Qi, and mother, Zi Hu, following closely. Upon entering the room, Mingyun extended his arms and gracefully bowed, demonstrating his deep respect for everyone in attendance. Both Wuzhi Qi and Zi Hu exchanged smiles, recognising that some things can't be rushed, and sometimes, it's best to let things unfold naturally. Mingyun was eager to dedicate more time to practice, but his physical limitations made it challenging to endure extended hours of training.
Sifeng rose from his seat and approached Mingyun, a sense of regret weighing on him for his previous actions. A faint smile appeared on Mingyun's face as he began to bow in response, but before he could reach a ninety-degree angle, Sifeng gently halted his movement by placing both of his hands on Mingyun's arms. Sifeng's smile grew warmer as he looked at the young boy, guiding Mingyun to a seat next to Yichen.
The Sect leader occupied their prominent position on the raised platform, while the respected elders sat on the right side of the room. On the left side, the young, aspiring cultivators took their seats. Mingyun found himself seated beside Yichen, and as he glanced at his fellow young cultivator, he noticed a friendly smile gracing Yichen's face.
Yichen rose from his seat, executing a perfect ninety-degree bow before Mingyun. After he straightened up, he observed the bewildered expression on Mingyun's face.
"I sincerely apologise for any inconvenience or offence my father has caused," Yichen calmly explained the reason behind his father's actions. In response, Mingyun smiled, stood up, and executed a respectful bow. He straightened himself and then turned his gaze to the right, where he noticed a trace of guilt in Sifeng's eyes. Returning his attention to Yichen, Mingyun found Yichen still smiling warmly at him.
"No need to worry, it truly wasn't a big deal," Mingyun reassured with a warm smile. Yichen returned the smile, shifting his gaze to his proud father. Deep down, Yichen realized that his actions weren't driven by a desire to make his parents proud; instead, it was an unknown emotion stirring within him, a sense that life was on the brink of significant change, and new adventures awaited. Zi Hu then rose from her seat and approached Mingyun.
"This is our son, Mingyun," Zi Hu announced proudly to everyone present. As Mingyun glanced at his father, he noticed a subtle glimmer of pride in his father's eyes. Suddenly, Mingyun turned his head towards the door, as though he anticipated the arrival of someone he had longed to meet. With a soft smile directed at his mother, it was a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes of those gathered around.
"Sorry, we are late," a voice suddenly announced their arrival in the hall. All eyes turned toward the door, but Mingyun felt an unexpected unease as someone emerged from the door's shadows. His heart seemed to recognize this person, but who could it be? Mingyun turned his head and spotted two cultivators standing just beyond the door frame.
One of the cultivators was adorned in a pristine white robe, accented with subtle hints of crimson, while the other wore a resplendent green robe layered over delicate shades of pale green. The individual in the green attire, sensing the weight of an observing gaze upon them, turned their head and cast a discerning look toward Mingyun.
Their gazes locked, and at that moment, a profound sensation stirred within them. It was a feeling that defied definition, elusive yet strangely recognizable, as though an inexplicable force coursed through their very beings. It was an emotion that both consumed and comforted them, an experience hitherto unknown, yet strangely reminiscent. Overwhelmed by this enigmatic connection, Mingyun turned his gaze toward his mother, his eyes brimming with the weight of unspoken tears.
As Mingyun averted his gaze, the other individual noticed and experienced an unfamiliar ache deep within his chest, a sensation hitherto uncharted. He yearned for the young boy to meet his eyes, but the reasons behind this overpowering emotion remained shrouded in mystery. The enigmatic feeling that had taken root in his heart was driving him to the brink of madness, as he was consumed by a desire to inquire and understand, yet he remained at a loss, uncertain of what to ask or how to frame his questions.
He momentarily lowered his gaze before his eyes once more found the enigmatic boy. The young one was draped in a simple black robe layered over pristine white garments, a clear indication of his affiliation with the Demon Citadel, perhaps even a participant in the enigmatic Flower Ceremony. Yet, the question lingered: why did he feel such an unrelenting pull towards this individual, and what was transpiring within him that made it impossible to divert his thoughts from the young boy?
Their gazes converged once more, even as Mingyun's attention remained ostensibly fixed on his mother. It was evident that the mysterious boy was suppressing his longing to lock eyes with the unfamiliar figure once more.
"Yaoguai, Yibo," Mingyun raised his head in response to a voice calling out those names. As he turned, it became clear that the esteemed Sect leader of Fuyu Island was summoning the two enigmatic individuals who had been lingering by the doorway. Upon being addressed by their names, they gracefully entered the room and executed a formal bow, displaying their profound respect. Having recomposed themselves, Yaoguai and Yibo proceeded to their seats and assumed their positions. Subsequently, the rest of the assembly likewise took their designated places and began partaking in their morning repast.
Yaoguai occupied the seat right next to Mingyun, but to Mingyun, he might as well have been light-years away. Despite their physical proximity, an emotional chasm seemed to separate them, creating an unbearable distance. It was the curious sensation of recognizing someone while simultaneously perceiving them as a stranger.
What left Yaoguai astounded was the realization that, as he stood by the door and cast his gaze upon Mingyun, he had momentarily assumed that their shared presence was purposeful. He had believed that the Sect leader had summoned them due to their prolonged proximity. In truth, their introduction was merely an occasion to acquaint them with another Sect leader. He understood that the thoughts he had briefly entertained about Mingyun had lasted for no more than a fleeting moment.
He found himself perplexed by the transient nature of his thoughts - how could he experience such a profound connection in just a fleeting moment? It was as if he had known Mingyun for an eternity, far longer than he could have expected. The lingering eye contact suggested an unspoken history, yet they remained strangers to each other. The inexplicable emotion they both felt was uncharted territory, a yearning for something unprecedented. As the meal concluded, the attendees vacated the room, leaving it to the maids to restore its tidiness.
Mingyun was heading toward his father, intending to communicate his departure. His heart was overflowing with words he wished to share with Wuzhi Qi, yet an indescribable force seemed to tug at him, compelling him to return to the hall, near Yaoguai. This magnetic pull was so compelling that with each step he took away, it inflicted a profound and agonizing sensation, akin to the feeling of impending mortality.
With every stride, it felt as though he was teetering on the brink of his own demise, a searing ache gripping his chest. The yearning to return to the hall, to sit beside Yaoguai, or even to have Yaoguai linger at the doorway, gazing at him as he had done before, was overpowering. Mingyun was acutely aware of his vulnerability when it came to spellcasting, which is why he empathized with his father's worries and deep concern for his safety. Understanding the depth of his father's love and apprehension, he recognized that returning to the Demon Citadel was the wisest course of action.
"Fuqin," Mingyun uttered his father's name with a heavy heart. Wuzhi Qi turned his gaze toward his son, and Mingyun made an effort to smile. His lips strained, masking the turmoil beneath his outward demeanour, a valiant display of determination to project cheerfulness. His father, though perceptive, focused his attention on encouraging Mingyun to express himself.
"I believe it's time for me to return to the Demon Citadel", With considerable effort, Mingyun managed to utter these words. Each word he spoke felt like a heavy burden, and an inexplicable force seemed to tug at him, rendering it arduous to convey his thoughts. His throat grew parched, and a new, distressing sensation welled up within him, an agony so overwhelming that he longed to clutch his chest and release a heartfelt cry. However, he endured in silence, allowing his father the space to respond without worrying about his well-being.
Mingyun slowly lifted his gaze to meet his father's eyes. He held a deep desire for his father to implore him to stay, to reassure him that it was acceptable not to return to the Demon Citadel, and he yearned to be reunited with Yaoguai. As he studied his father, he discerned a flicker of unease in his eyes, momentarily igniting a spark of hope within him. But before his father could speak, a sudden voice from behind interrupted their moment.
"I believe it would be beneficial for him to remain here; he would have the opportunity to acquire new spells and sword skills," the source of the voice was none other than Yaoguai. Mingyun and his father turned their heads to gaze at Yaoguai, both intrigued by his suggestion. Mingyun couldn't help but watch his father closely, noting the shift in his expression.
A glimmer of hope flickered within Mingyun. Perhaps Yaoguai's words had the potential to sway his father's decision. Wuzhi Qi, in turn, regarded his son thoughtfully, contemplating the merits of what Yaoguai had proposed. The prospect of Mingyun learning spells during the Flower Ceremony, surrounded by other accomplished individuals, was certainly worth considering.
"You need not return to the Demon Citadel; Yaoguai is indeed correct," as his father articulated these words, Mingyun could feel a mounting sense of exhilaration. He silently expressed gratitude to Yaoguai within the recesses of his mind for offering the suggestion. Wuzhi Qi beamed warmly, affectionately patting Mingyun's head, before resuming his position, facing the assembled Sect leaders.
Mingyun's grin stretched wide across his face, a testament to his elation. However, when he turned to express his gratitude to Yaoguai, he was taken aback to find a space where Yaoguai once stood. The smile on Mingyun's face dissipated as swiftly as the breeze that brushed against his skin.
Resolute, Mingyun composed himself and was determined to locate the enigmatic individual. Every step he took felt laced with uncertainty, a fear of a repeat of what had occurred before, yet simultaneously buoyed by the certainty that Yaoguai would offer assistance, and his parents would provide support.
Mingyun pressed forward with determined strides until he reached the entrance to the grand hall. His curiosity got the better of him, and he wished to behold the hall's decoration and its overall appearance. Ensuring that Yaoguai was nowhere in sight, he seized the opportunity to explore the room at leisure. With measured and deliberate steps, he ventured into the room, fully intent on etching this moment into his memory - his inaugural experience beyond the walls of the Demon Citadel.
Mingyun observed the room's entrance with a keen eye, taking note of its intricate adornments. The door was draped in cascading red and yellow fabrics, their silken strands swaying gracefully in response to the caressing breeze. The door itself was a rich shade of brown, featuring a stunning depiction of the War God from heaven alongside the Golden Red Bird Demon, symbolizing the profound love between Xuanji and Sifeng, as well as the harmonious coexistence of the Heaven Officials and Asuras.
As he ventured deeper into the room, Mingyun examined it with greater attention. A sumptuous table adorned the elevated platform, designated for the Sect leader, flanked by additional tables on either side. The central path boasted an opulent red carpet, while the arch behind the elevated platform was cloaked in resplendent yellow fabric. This arch, reminiscent of a grand window, opened inward, revealing a breathtaking vista of the majestic mountains.
Mingyun swiveled his head upon hearing a voice from outside, a reminder that he had lingered in the hall for more time than he had initially intended. With a decisive turn on his heels, he exited the room. Yet, before crossing the threshold, he cast one last appreciative glance at the exquisitely adorned hall, savoring the enchanting decorations he had never before encountered within a Sect.
This moment marked the first time he had ventured outside the boundaries of the Demon Citadel, a place he had called home throughout his entire life. The memories of the Citadel's own Flower Ceremony and its distinctive décor were etched vividly in his mind.
Mingyun yearned to preserve this moment as a lasting memory, every intricate detail etched in his mind. It held a special significance for him, one he was not willing to relinquish too readily. While the desire to explore the hall further tugged at him, he also wished to remain immersed in its stunning decor.
His internal debate was interrupted by the sounds of shouting from outside, which left him in a state of both confusion and curiosity. The urge to step outside and investigate the commotion warred with his longing to savor the hall's exquisite adornments.
After a battle in his mind, he decided to go out because his heart was still waiting to see that one single person. He sighed before turning towards the door to leave. When he stepped outside, he saw a group of people gathered in front of the hall. Out of curiosity, he was about to take a step forward when he saw an arrow coming towards him. At that moment he didn't know what to do, so he just stood there and closed his eyes. He heard faint sounds of people around him telling him to move to the side, but he stood there as his body was paralyzed.
Although Mingyun remained paralyzed, he suddenly felt a firm hand encircle his waist, lifting him effortlessly from the ground and turning him in a protective embrace. The second arm secured his waist, ensuring he wouldn't fall. Slowly, he opened his eyes upon sensing the strong grip, and there, he gazed into the eyes of the very person his heart had longed for.
As a gentle breeze stirred the air, making the flower petals descend, the Golden Red Bird Demon cradled the boy in his arms. Yet, as their eyes locked, it was as if some mystical force bound them in place, defying their movements. Their eyes conveyed the depths of unspoken pain, a narrative left untold, and an ardent yearning for love. Something about this encounter felt askew, foreign yet strangely fitting, as if an inexplicable connection was forming between them. It felt both disconcerting and inexplicably right.
It was as though an imperceptible thread bound them together, maintaining their proximity even as they grappled with an intangible distance. Their yearning to remain in one another's presence, to be ensconced within each other's embrace, was akin to a scorching blaze of desire that consumed them both.