A golden box materialized on the stone steps of an all-male school. It gleamed in the sunlight, waiting to be opened.
On the opposite side, two young men emerged from a winding path, their blue and white robes crisp and pristine. They looked every bit like a cultivator.
They exchanged a glance—one sharp, the other resolute, but with a faint hint of smugness tugging at the corners of their mouths.
In perfect synchronization, they nodded. Then, with practiced precision, their fingers traced an intricate circle in the air, the motions deliberate and fluid. Each movement seemed to announce to the world: Behold, we are Disciples of Haoran Sect, and our abilities are nothing short of extraordinary.
The massive stone gates of Haoran Sect groaned like a slumbering beast, slowly parting to reveal two figures in a striking pose on the other side.
Perfectly symmetrical faces, chiseled like jade statues, peered out, their expressions calm yet radiating an unmistakable aura that proclaimed, Look at us—practically celestial, divinely handsome, overly capable, and unmatched in every way.
Unaware of Haoran's newly earned reputation as the sect with the most handsome and eligible bachelors, the disciples strode forward, their steps swift and elegant, toward the golden box.
They were mere inches away from the box when a shrill pierced the air, high-pitched and desperate.
"Demon!" one disciple barked, instantly brandishing his sword.
"Or a beast!" the other added, twirling his blade with the flair of a skilled cultivator.
Both disciples pivoted perfectly, moving heroically through the morning breeze as they scanned the area, sizing up an invisible foe. Thrilled to finally showcase their superior fighting skills. They readied themselves for a battle that would surely become legendary among their sect brothers.
But what they saw froze them in place.
A stampede of women, shrieking and shouting, swarmed up the stone steps like a horde of black locusts. The disciples barely had time to blink before the mob reached them.
"Marry me!" a woman screamed, clutching her heart, ready to faint.
"No, marry my daughter! She's virtuous and knows the way to a man's heart!" cried another.
"Take me as a sacrifice!" one woman threw herself dramatically at their feet.
The disciples tried to back away, but the mob swallowed them whole. "He's so handsome!" someone cried.
Hands clawed at their crisp robes and tugged at their perfectly tied hair buns, while papers, trinkets, and who-knows-what-else were stuffed into every pocket, sleeve, and fold they had.
"Stop—this is madness!" one disciple gasped, twisting away from a persistent grandmother who insisted her granddaughter was "a beauty unmatched in the seven realms."
The other disciple struggled to maintain composure as a woman tugged on his sash shouting, "My husband!"
They could have easily escaped if it weren't for Haoran's rule that forbid them to use cultivation against innocent mortals.
"We can handle this," the first disciple growled, though his voice cracked. "We're senior disciples. We're cultivators now!"
He freed one hand from the chaos long enough to draw a circular motion in the air. A barrage of lights shot up into the sky, exploding with a loud bang followed by a roar.
The women screamed and scattered, giving the disciples a brief second to act.
"Grab the box!" the first disciple yelled.
The second one dove for it, clutched the box like it was his very life and they both vanished in a blur of light.
Behind the now-closed gates, peals of laughter erupted as the other disciples gathered around to enjoy the sight. The two returning heroes collapsed onto the stone courtyard, gasping for breath, their robes crumpled, one nearly de-pantsed, and their once-perfect topknots hopelessly disheveled.
"I've never been so violated," muttered the disciple holding the box, while his sect brothers doubled over with laughter. He wanted to scream, to curse, to drag them out to face the horde of women so they too could endure the chaos and humiliation he'd suffered. But he didn't.
They had been to Heaven's Peak. They were cultivators of virtue, paragons of heroism and wisdom. Leaders among their peers.
So, with great dignity, he smoothed his disheveled hair, adjusted his rumpled robes, and looked down at the box.
Stuck to the front of the box, shimmering characters glowed faintly in the light: Deliver to Haoran Sect… For Madam Gu… Only to be opened by Madam Gu. The disciple holding the box muttered the inscription quietly.
"Madam Gu?" he repeated, glancing at his companion.
Madam Gu was the only woman permitted at Haoran Sect, the wife of their esteemed sect leader, Master Gu Feiyu. She possessed the resolve of an ox and the grace of a wispy willow, her presence within the sect as unquestionable as it was commanding.
Both disciples exchanged a wary glance.
"Who would send such an extravagant gift to Madam Gu?" one of them wondered aloud, his voice dropped to a near whisper, afraid it might have summoned their sect master's infamous temper. Master Gu was known for his jealousy—an overly protective husband whose possessiveness rivaled that of a spoiled child guarding his favorite toy.
The other disciple shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. Neither dared to speculate further. They'd been through enough for the day—a surprise mob, their dignity nearly shredded, their bodies violated, and now this mysterious box. The last thing they wanted was to be caught in the crossfire between Master and Madam Gu.
"We'll bring it straight to Madam Gu," said the disciple holding the box. Whatever she chose to do with it afterward was none of his concern.
The other nodded quickly, brushing the dust from his robes.
With that, the two set off for the back quarters of Haoran, their steps brisk but careful, as though the box itself contained an enraged Master Gu.
Madam Gu was enjoying her afternoon tea, the delicate porcelain cup poised gracefully in her hand, when a knock interrupted her peace. She placed the cup down with a soft clink, smoothing her robes before crossing the room. The knock came again, louder this time, as she opened the door.
"Oh, what brings you two here?" she asked, her tone calm but curious.
"A package for you," the disciple closest blurted, shoving the golden box into her hands before she could react. "We found it at the front gates."
She was about to ask another question, but the disciples stiffened. Their eyes darted behind her, and without another word, they bolted down the corridor, their black and blue robes flapping wildly in retreat.
Turning her head, Madam Gu spotted the unmistakable shadow of Master Gu stalking toward her. She sighed softly, clutching the box. "Well, this is interesting," she murmured, stepping back into her room. "Someone sent me a gift. Was it you?"
Feiyu was suddenly in his favorite chair, opposite her, arms crossed and sulking. His voice came out low and gruff, too quiet for her to hear clearly, but she caught fragments: "…ask your… boy toy."
"Aiyaaa. Stop being so jealous and come over here." Madam Gu set the box down on the tea table, brushing her fingers over its exquisite surface. The moment they made contact, a sharp jolt shot up her wrist, and the lid popped open with a faint click. She yanked her arm back with a startled gasp. "Feiyu—!" she exclaimed. "Hurry, come here!"
He rose reluctantly, taking slow, lumbered strides around the table, his lips pursed in mock disapproval. "What? I thought you might want some privacy while opening a gift from your lo—"
"Stop," Madam Gu snapped, her deadly gaze silencing him mid-sentence. She jabbed a finger at the box. "Open it. It's not from my lover."
"Sure it isn't," he muttered under his breath, earning a firm nudge in the back.
Feiyu flipped the lid over.
"Ohhh." she leaned towards the box. "It's a child!" Her voice was a mix of surprise and disbelief. "A baby boy."
Feiyu raised an eyebrow, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. "This is the first, where parents have tried to admit their son into Haoran by sending him as a package."
"Do you know which family he might be from?" Madam Gu asked, her gaze fixed on the child.
"By the looks of him, probably from the farms or countryside," Feiyu leaned closer. "He seems a little underfed."
Madam Gu squinted, then took another look. "He is quite small… and there's something about his face that looks strange. I can't quite place it."
The child stirred; Madam Gu reached inside the box, where a corner of a piece of paper lay tucked beneath his tiny body. Moving carefully, she tugged the paper free and froze, when she saw the seal.
"The seal of Consort Ying," she ripped the envelope open, then handed it to Feiyu. "Read this for me. My eyesight's not what it used to be."
Feiyu straightened, taking the letter from her. "We need to send this child back to the duke immediately. Consort Ying has been missing for over a year. This boy could be the duke's son."
"Is Ying dead?" The dreadful words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.
Feiyu, distracted by his curiosity, not paying any attention to her or reading the letter bent towards the box. "What an unusually large hairpin for a baby," he remarked.
"Don't touch it!"
Before she could smack those curious hands away, Feiyu plucked the jade pin free. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting it with a raised brow. "Odd. There's something stuck inside—"
"Feiyu!" Madam Gu gasped, clasping one hand over her mouth while the other tugged urgently at his robes. "Look!"
"What?" Feiyu grumbled, his face twisted in mild annoyance as he glanced at her. Then his gaze shifted downward, and his mouth fell open. "A Butterfly Illusion."
"A what?" Madam Gu asked. Her husband, as Haoran Sect's leader, was well-versed in cultivation and the martial arts oddities of the realms. She, however, possessed little cultivation power and even less knowledge of such things.
"It's a cultivation technique that disguises one's outward appearance—hiding beauty beneath the guise of something plain or ugly. Once removed, the illusion 'blooms' into its true form, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon." He went back to reading the letter.
"Step back… Consort Ying admitted in her letter to being a fox demon. That child likely shares her abilities. It's very presence can enchant and manipulate those around them, especially those with low cultivation."
"Ying'er…" Madam Gu whispered, stepping away from the helpless child. "A fox demon… and this child…" Her voice cracked as she shook her head. "Why didn't I see it? We got along almost too easily." Her gaze lingered on the child, memories of their instant friendship came to mind.
"Consort Ying was a cunning woman," he said. "If she wanted to hide the truth, not even the heavens could uncover her secrets. Don't blame yourself."
He wrapped his arms around her, his embrace steadying her shaking frame. "I'll send a message to the duke. We'll return the child tomorrow."
Before Madam Gu could respond, the front doors burst open.
"Jianyu!" came the worried cry of an attendant from outside. "Young master, stop!"
But the boy was too quick. He darted inside, his tiny body rushed straight toward her.
"Mother!"
"Jianyu," Madam Gu scooped him up, cradling his small body tightly against her. The thought of leaving him alone in this world—helpless, like this small child—was unbearable.