The Cold Arrival of Mo Yan
" Master ... Rong A Cheng.... young master mo yan has arrived."
A disciple came running breathlessly into the ancient halls of the Ming Jing Men Sect's academy.
Inside stood the new generation...fresh, proud, dressed in their official uniforms.
And then
Mo Yan entered.
Clad in white - golden robes,
and behind him, twenty disciples walking in perfect harmony.
Every step, synchronized.
Every gaze, like silent fire.
The air inside the academy went still.
Only the soft whispers began:
"That's him… Mo Yan."
"The one who tried to save a demon…"
"I heard his mother was the queen of that heretic sect…"
"Queen Guz…"
Suddenly, Mo Yan's head turned ever so slightly.
A side glance...cold and effortless.
And the boy who had whispered
His face turned pale, like his soul had left his body.
---
With Mo Yan present,
words were not spoken.
They were felt.
---
Mo had been invited to the academy
to fulfill a sacred task.
He was to rewrite the sect's ancient scripture,
a scripture that once held the sect's deepest secrets
lost in a fire.
He would be staying here
for the next three months.
Master Shen Jichuan addressed Mo and his disciples directly:
"Our sacred scripture was lost in an unfortunate fire..."
"It held truths… about our sect that no one else knew."
"I have no heir."
"If I did, I would've entrusted this task to them."
"But instead, I trust you, Mo Yan
for there is no one more worthy than you to do this."
---
Mo Yan only nodded.
No words, no pride.
Just silence and stillness.
---
That night
A single chamber was sealed under heavy guard.
Mo Yan's disciples stood silently outside, alert like statues.
Inside,
only a blank scripture scroll,
a table,
a flickering lantern...
And two people seated across from each other.
Mo Yan and Master Shen Jichuan.