7. The Mysterious Storyteller

The Fusang Forbidden Woods stood eerily silent, the usual howls and rustling leaves replaced by an unsettling stillness. In between the towering trees, a man clad in black stood unmoving, his face grim, his presence as cold as the chilly night. His sharp eyes scanned the gruesome sight before him—a massacre of wolves, their lifeless bodies scattered across the bloodstained ground.

Behind him, a shadow guard shifted uneasily, his voice laced with disbelief. "How is this even possible? They can't die…" It was more of a question than a statement, his gaze locked onto the fallen creatures.

The veiled man did not respond immediately, his narrowed eyes fixating on the corpses. These were no ordinary wolves. Their soulless eyes.. these beasts were demonized.

Undead. 

Then, something caught his attention. Amidst the tangle of blood and fur, a single yellowed talisman fluttered faintly against a wolf's stiffened body, its edges burned and charred. A faint, almost familiar sickly-sweet scent wafted from it, making his eyes widen in realization.

"This…!"

He took a sharp step back, his pulse quickening.

The shadow guard, also catching the scent, stiffened. A shudder ran through his body as understanding dawned upon him, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is… exorcism."

His master remained silent, the weight of those words settling in the thick night air.

The shadow guard swallowed, his hands tightening into fists. "That's impossible! The..they were eradicated twelve years ago. Their temples, their spirit beasts—all destroyed. There wasn't a single survivor…" His voice trailed off, laced with dread. "Then how…?"

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, almost amused, the veiled man's lips curled into a smirk.

"…It seems we have a fish in our pond"

A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, rustling the trees, carrying the faint remnants of a presence long gone. 

.....

"Freshly steamed pork buns! Juicy and hot—just out of the steamer!"

"Handmade silk scarves! The best in Yin Ci City! You won't find softer fabric anywhere!"

The streets of Yin Ci City pulsed with life as the evening lanterns flickered to life, casting a warm golden glow over the crowded market. The scent of sizzling meats, fragrant spices, and freshly baked buns filled the air.

Shops lined both sides of the stone-paved road, their colorful banners swaying gently in the cool night breeze. Vendors shouting over one another, eager to attract customers, while groups of travelers, merchants, and locals weaved through the crowd, bargaining and haggling.. most of it just for fun.

"Oi, thief! Come back here, you little brat!" An angry shopkeeper waved his cleaver at a young boy darting through the crowd, clutching a stolen meat bun.

Mo Yichen leisurely walked through the hustle and bustle, hands behind his head, while Jing Yu practically buzzed with excitement beside him.

"This place is huge!" Jing Yu exclaimed, eyes darting from one shop to another. "Also! They say the underground market is even bigger! Maybe we should check it out later?"

Mo Yichen snorted. "You really want to risk getting tangled with some shady traders?"

Jing Yu pouted. "It's not that dangerous. And besides, aren't you curious about what they sell down there?"

"Not particularly."

Just as he was about to brush off the idea completely, a pungent smell invaded his nose. Mo Yichen froze mid-step, his expression twisting in horror.

"What… is that stench?" he choked, glancing around suspiciously.

Jing Yu's face lit up. "Oh! That must be stinky tofu! You've never had it before?"

"Stinky tofu?" Mo Yichen repeated slowly, feeling utterly betrayed by the very concept of such a dish. "Why would anyone willingly eat something that smells like a corpse left to rot in the summer noon?"

Jing Yu ignored his protest and dragged him toward a food stall. A man with a greasy apron and a wide grin greeted them.

"Ah! Two young masters looking for the finest delicacy of Yin Ci City?" The vendor chuckled as he scooped a batch of dark, crispy tofu from sizzling oil, placing them onto a wooden plate. A thick cloud of the foul aroma wafted toward them.

Mo Yichen instinctively took a step back, covering his nose. "..Is it even legal?"

Jing Yu grabbed a skewer and happily took a bite. "Mmm! The smell is strong, but the taste is amazing—crispy on the outside, soft and flavorful inside!"

The vendor turned to Mo Yichen expectantly. "You must try, young master! A true delicacy! Even nobles from the capital come here for my famous stinky tofu!"

Mo Yichen eyed the offending dish with deep suspicion. But then, he picked up a skewer, narrowed his eyes, and took a tentative bite. The crunch was satisfying. The texture was actually decent. But then—

The taste hit him.

A wave of fermented, pungent, almost cheese-like flavor exploded in his mouth. His entire being rejected it instantly. His soul threatened to leave his body.

"—!" Mo Yichen made a strangled noise, stiffening like he had just been poisoned.

Jing Yu clapped him on the back, expecting. "How is it?"

Mo Yichen swallowed forcefully, his eye twitching. "…It tastes exactly how it smells."

The vendor grinned proudly. "That means it's authentic!"

Mo Yichen, dead inside, wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Jing Yu doubled over laughing as Mo Yichen dramatically turned away, vowing to never trust street foods ever again.

The lively market continued buzzing around them as they strolled through the streets—one enjoying and the other.. well the other still trying to recover from the earlier betrayal with a sour face.

Two days ago, when Mo Yichen thought he had finally freed himself from the old man's grasp, fate truly had other plans.. Just as he was preparing to leave, that stubborn, stinky old man had saddled him with another task—accompanying Jing Yu to Yongtian Peak.

The name stirred something in his memory. It wasn't the first time he had heard of it since arriving in this world. Curiosity gnawed at him, and after some persistent probing, he managed to unearth some rather astonishing facts.

Yongtian Peak is a place of genius cultivators, where the best of the best are accepted. Every year, the peak conducts two entrance exams, spaced six months apart. Yet, despite the thousands who attempt the trials, only fewer than ten people are admitted. This alone spoke volumes about its unparalleled prestige and stupidly brutal competition.

Those who succeeded were destined to become powerhouses, shaping the very fabric of the cultivation world.

Mo Yichen glanced down at the wooden badge clutched in his palm, its surface engraved with unfamiliar symbols. His fingers tightened around it as he walked, his mind lost in thought. 

His contemplation was cut short as Jing Yu yanked him forward, nearly making him trip.

"Come on, stop dragging your feet! We've finally reached! Now we need to find an inn before it gets dark" Jing Yu huffed, his face weary from travel.

Mo Yichen exhaled sharply but didn't resist. After all, they had been traveling for nearly a day and a half, their journey stretching across vast forests. The last thing he wanted was to sleep in the streets.

The warm glow of red lanterns flickered in the spacious hall of the inn, their light dancing across wooden beams adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. The scent of roasted duck, spiced wine, and freshly steamed buns filled the air, mingling with the murmur of people.

At the counter, a skinny young man, the innkeeper, beamed warmly at the two new guests, holding up a polished wooden board where the types of rooms and their rates were neatly inscribed.

"Good evening, young masters. How may I assist you?" he asked, his voice smooth and welcoming.

Mo Yichen's eyes swept over him before he spoke curtly. "We'll be staying for the night."

The innkeeper's face brightened further. Clapping his hands together, he began his well-rehearsed pitch.

"The rooms in our establishment are classified into three categories—first, second, and third—"

Before he could finish, Mo Yichen interjected. "Two first-class rooms."

With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, he tossed two golden taels onto the counter. The crisp sound of the heavy gold coins hitting the wooden surface made Jing Yu's jaw drop, while the innkeeper visibly froze, eyes locked on the extravagant payment.

A heartbeat later, the innkeeper sucked in a deep breath, his previous composed demeanor instantly replaced by excitement. "Very well!!" he nearly shouted before signaling to a nearby worker. "Prepare the finest rooms for these honored guests immediately!"

As if on cue, a waiter darted over, menu in hand, eyes practically sparkling.

Jing Yu, still recovering from the shock, exhaled loudly. "Brother Mo, I never thought you were this rich!"

Mo Yichen chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Heh… money sure changes everything," he mused, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted—to the time he nearly starved to death on the streets when he had nothing but dust in his pockets. And now? A sly grin twitches on his lips remembering the satisfying moment of breaking into Guang Zhao's little treasure box.. 

His fingers drummed against the table, this much should be enough for a month at least even if he eats like a pig. He sighs, "Sure enough, being rich is a necessity—"

But before he could revel further, a smooth stirring voice cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention to the center of the hall.

Seated on a raised wooden platform, was a a young man, around in his early twenties, his back facing Mo Yichen, long white silk robe billowing slightly as he gestured with a folding fan. A crowd had gathered, eyes glinting with intrigue, hanging onto his every word.

Intrigued, Mo Yichen and Jing Yu exchanged glances before settling deeper into their seats to listen.

The young storyteller, clearing his throat, began in the rhythmic cadence of traditional Chinese folk.

"In the era of gods and demons, there existed a hero unparalleled in all the realms—Wu Shenyang of the Primordial Chaos Sect! He was a man of unmatched strength, wielding a blade forged from the very heart of the cosmos. His enemies trembled at his name, his allies revered him as an immortal among men!"

"Blessed by the heavens, he possessed a one-in-a-million Chaotic Yin-Yang Spiritual Root, allowing him to command destruction!"

Mo Yichen's eyes narrowed at the storyteller as soon as he heard Chaotic YinYang Spiritual Root.

The audience murmured, nodding along to the storyteller.

"He was hailed as the protector of the world, righteous and just, the shining beacon of hope in times of darkness!"

"But alas! Such is the nature of mortal folly—for behind his heroic mask lay the soul of a villain unlike any other!"

The storyteller snapped his folding fan shut with a loud clap, his eyes twinkling as the audience collectively gasped.

"Yes, my dear listeners, Wu Shenyang—the greatest hero of his time—was, in truth, the most treacherous villain to ever walk these lands!"

The hall fell into silence. Even Mo Yichen found himself slightly intrigued.

The young man continued, his tone dipping lower, more sinister.

"For decades, he deceived the world, hiding his true nature beneath a facade of justice. The blood of thousands stained his hands—righteous warriors, innocent civilians, even his own sworn brothers!"

"Yet… even the darkest of souls can succumb to love."

A wistful sigh escaped the storyteller's lips as he shook his head.

"The only one who ever touched his wretched heart was the Priestess of the Heavenly Sword Temple—a woman of unparalleled beauty, the sole saintess of her time, Hua Ying, the only daughter of Qín Xuánfēng of Nine Nether Flame Clan"

"But, my friends, how cruel fate can be! For one day, the Priestess uncovered his true nature—witnessing firsthand the unspeakable atrocities he had committed!"

"Devastated, she did what she believed to be right… She betrayed him."

The storyteller's voice grew heavy with tragedy.

"She led the righteous sects to his doorstep, condemning him to annihilation in the name of justice! But Wu Shenyang… he was not a man to die so easily."

With a sudden flick of his fan, the young boy let out a small laugh, his eyes glinting in the dim lantern light.

"What happened to the son?!"

"Did he seek revenge?!"

"What happened next, you ask? Ah well… that, my dear listeners, is a story for another night!"

"No! You can't stop there!"

With this, the young man in silk robe strode towards the exit vanishing from sight while people continued shouting in annoyance. 

"Ahhh! Why did he leave before finishing the story?!" Jing Yu groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. 

Mo Yichen, however, paid him no mind. Without hesitation, he pushed past the tables and rushed toward the exit, his eyes scanning the bustling streets in search of the storyteller. But as he stepped outside, all he found were vendors shouting, their voices overlapping as they advertised their wares.

"Rare talismans! Protect your home from evil spirits!"

The market was still alive with glowing lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. Yet, despite the crowd, the storyteller was nowhere to be found.

Mo Yichen stood still for a moment, his sharp gaze sweeping over the scene once more. But there was no trace of that young man. 

His fingers curled slightly at his sides. Why did that story feel so… familiar?

A strange unease settled in his chest, but he quickly shook it off. Maybe he was just overthinking.

Exhaling softly, he turned back toward the inn, his boots making light thuds against the wooden floor as he ascended the stairs. With his head slightly lowered, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.