Chapter 5 - Preparations

Ren Zu stepped out of the bath shortly after, his still-damp hair tied into a simple yet elegant bun, secured with a black ribbon. He wore black Taoist robes, with subtle golden details on the sleeves and collar. Nothing ostentatious, but on his frame, even the most understated attire took on a natural grandeur, a result of his "aura of the banished immortal."

He paused in the center of the room for a moment, adjusting his collar calmly and taking a deep breath, pondering whether he should continue cultivating.

The answer was obvious.

Yes.

He needed to become stronger. Relaxing was not an option.

But first… there was something he needed to do.

Inform the parents of the former owner of this body—or rather, his parents now—that he would enter seclusion for training.

His predecessor might have been obsessed with cultivation and the profound path to escape the mockery of his peers, but he never failed to care for his parents. He always informed them of everything, even when he was about to dive into weeks of training. A small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the kind of person he was.

And to keep up appearances… Ren Zu knew he should do the same.

Resolved, he decided to go find them.

There was just one problem…

His current appearance.

He hadn't changed completely; he was still recognizable, the main features were there, but… he had become infinitely more handsome.

Not just handsome.

Inconceivably handsome.

With his new aura, his features seemed hand-carved by the heavens: long eyelashes casting perfect shadows, arched eyebrows that gave an impression of ancient wisdom, and a presence so imposing that the very fabric of his clothes seemed nobler just for touching him. He was like a living painting, an immortal who had descended from the heavens by mistake—or perhaps by whim.

And that would be a problem…

How would he explain this change to others?

Ren Zu sighed lightly. Instead of panicking or seeking complex explanations like demonic possession, divine blessing, or the random favoritism of fate, he did what any sensible cultivator would do in his place.

He decided to ignore it.

If anyone asked… he would simply raise an eyebrow and reply with the utmost disinterest: "Change? Must be my mother's chrysanthemum tea."

With that settled, he left the room with firm steps, crossing the covered veranda that connected his courtyard to the back of the main family mansion.

The morning breeze brushed against his face.

The stones on the path were still damp with dew, and the distant sound of sweepers and servants beginning their tasks filled the air with a comforting familiarity.

Soon, the stares began.

First was a young maid carrying a tray of fruit. She tripped over nothing, stopping only because the tray crashed to the ground. Her hands trembled. Her face, pale as porcelain, flushed crimson up to her ears. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Ren Zu kept walking.

"Good morning…" he said with unpretentious kindness, not even turning his face.

His voice was calm but resonated in the maid's ears like a celestial melody. She sank to her knees, hands still outstretched as if she could touch him just one more time. Her heart pounded so fiercely that, for a moment, she thought she would die of love right there.

Years later, she would tell this story to her grandchildren as the day she saw an immortal and became certain she would never marry another man…

Another servant, a middle-aged man, was coming from the back with a basket of firewood. His eyes met Ren Zu's for an instant, and he stopped abruptly. One eyebrow arched. Then the other. The man looked Ren Zu up and down as if reconsidering forty years of preferences and certainties.

"…Young Master Ren Zu?" he ventured, hesitantly.

"Hm? Need something…?" Ren Zu replied, not slowing his pace.

"It's just…" The servant coughed, choking on the air. "You seem a bit different, that's all…"

Ren Zu merely smiled in that way that seemed to hide a hundred secrets while simultaneously saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The man stood frozen in place for minutes, staring at the ground.

"I… think I… like men now?"

As Ren Zu turned the corner of the garden, cherry blossoms scattered petals along his path. He finally spotted the courtyard and the mansion of his parents. Or rather, his father's mansion, since his mother usually spent most of her time at the Mu Clan, thanks to her overly protective grandfather.

The Mu Family was one of the Twelve Guardian Families, tasked with protecting the lineage of the Demon Emperor. They maintained an especially close relationship with the Yun Family, a direct result of the marriage between the Mu Family's princess, Mu Yurou—his mother—and the Yun Family's Patriarch, Yun Qinghong—his father.

A small courtyard. A short pavilion. A stone table. A small emerald-green plant vase. Near the plants was a wooden chair that seemed slightly old. Next to the chair was a weapon rack that appeared even older. However, there were no weapons hanging on it, nor any trace of weapons ever having been hung there.

That was all he saw in the familiar courtyard.

He stood in front of the main house and said in a soft voice, "Father, are you inside? I'd like to speak with you…"

A small movement could be heard from within the house. Shortly after, a middle-aged man's voice resounded. "Oh? Need something, Zu'er? Come in…"

The voice was gentle but utterly devoid of energy, revealing traces of fragility.

Suddenly, his heart stirred uncontrollably… as if an invisible needle pierced it, causing a deep, silent pain in the depths of his chest. Instinctively, he brought his hand to the spot, pressing over his heart, trying to contain that strange, suffocating sensation.

He still couldn't get used to this unfamiliar emotion. Though he had seen his father only twice during the week since arriving in this world, the feeling hadn't diminished at all. On the contrary, it seemed to grow with every moment.

Could it be the emotions of his predecessor echoing within him?

It was the only plausible explanation.

He couldn't understand why the fragility in the voice of a man he had never known made him feel this subtle but overwhelmingly real pain in his heart.

Memories of his father's current condition flashed through his mind.

Unfortunately, he still hadn't deciphered even one percent of the [Miracle of Life]. He would need time and deep meditation to understand it bit by bit. Only then might he, perhaps, be able to heal his parents.

He made a mental note to dedicate himself to this during his upcoming seclusion, when he would begin cultivating in earnest.

He let out a long, restrained sigh, trying to reorganize his thoughts, and then entered. The door closed behind him. In front of the wooden table by the door, a figure dressed in green robes slowly turned from the table.

This was a middle-aged man who appeared to be about fifty years old. His face was pale, but even an ordinary person could tell that his paleness was due to illness. As a formidable profound practitioner, his body had once maintained an extremely youthful state. However, what could be seen of his body now was a greatly aged state, with even thirty percent of his hair turned white.

Yet these factors could not fully conceal the extraordinary temperament that transcended that of an ordinary person. His forehead still revealed a faint light of grace and calm. Even though his face had been redrawn with the marks of aging, his features still carried a refined look that could hardly be hidden. No matter who he was, no one would suspect that in his youth, he had undoubtedly possessed a rare beauty.

"Ren Zu greets his father…" Ren Zu offered a formal salute.

Yun Qinghong remained silent for a few seconds.

His eyes, deep and still vibrant despite the weariness, scanned his son's face as if trying to confirm something his heart already suspected. It wasn't a cold analysis; it was the gaze of a father trying to understand a change he couldn't explain.

After a moment, he furrowed his brow slightly.

"Zu'er… is it really you?"

Ren Zu raised an eyebrow, masking the slight discomfort with a casual touch to the collar of his robe.

"It's me, Father. Why?" His voice came out natural, light, almost distracted, as if he didn't quite understand the reason for the question.

Yun Qinghong stared at him for a few more seconds, then, with a small gesture of his hand, dismissed the thought.

"No… it must be my imagination," he said, coughing shortly after, his palm closed over his lips. A dry, restrained sound that left the fragility of a body no longer matching the strength of its spirit lingering in the air.

"Maybe I'm getting too old to trust my own eyes," he added with a faint smile, trying to downplay his earlier comment.

"Cough, cough… Cough, cough, cough…"

But immediately after, he began coughing severely. Ren Zu hurriedly stepped forward and said anxiously, "Father, are you alright…? Have you taken your medicine today?"

Yun Qinghong recovered quickly. Waving his hands lightly, he said with a smile, "Your father is fine. The medicine I was supposed to take has naturally been taken. Otherwise, your mother would never forgive me…"

Ren Zu, inwardly, felt a pang of worry.

But outwardly, he only returned a short, respectful smile.

His father leaned back slightly, his arms resting on the wooden table as if the very act of maintaining his posture required effort. Then, with a softer gaze, he asked:

"Did you come to see me for a reason, Zu'er?"

"Yes," Ren Zu replied, lowering his head slightly. "I came to inform you that I will enter seclusion."

Yun Qinghong raised an eyebrow.

"For how long?"

"A few months… maybe more. Depending on how much progress I can make."

There was a brief silence. The sound of the wind outside made the paper shutters rustle softly, and the faint aroma of old tea lingered in the air, subtle.

"Hm." His father nodded slowly. "If it's for cultivation, then do what you must. But promise you'll take care of your health."

Ren Zu nodded. "I promise."

Yun Qinghong observed him for a few more seconds, his face still serene but with that trace of silent worry that every father carries, no matter how much he trusts his son.

"Your face… it looks more mature," he said suddenly, almost as a stray comment lost in time.

Ren Zu tilted his head slightly: "Must be Mother's chrysanthemum tea."

Yun Qinghong laughed, or at least tried to. It sounded more like a muffled sigh.

"Of course. The tea."

Once again, the conversation fell into a comfortable silence.

"I'm glad you came to tell me, Zu'er," he said finally.

Ren Zu paused for a moment. Then, with sincerity, he replied:

"I couldn't leave without telling you. You've always been there… even when others doubted me."

Yun Qinghong closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if those words carried too much weight for his weary heart.

And perhaps they did.

When he opened his eyes again, he nodded.

"Then go. Cultivate. Do what needs to be done. Let me handle your mother; after all, it's not the first time you've done this…""

Ren Zu bowed slightly in respect and turned to leave.

But before he crossed the threshold, Yun Qinghong called out to him.

"Zu'er."

Ren Zu stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"If one day… it becomes too much to carry everything alone… you still have a home. Don't forget that. Your father isn't as useless as you might think. Don't be afraid to cause trouble or come to me for help…"

Ren Zu stood still for a moment.

Then he smiled, a smile that needed no words.

And he walked on.

He walked calmly back to his courtyard while his mind wandered through countless other thoughts.

The conversation with Yun Qinghong had been brief, almost simple, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"He's not my father…" he thought, eyes narrowing. "But at the same time… he is."

The dilemma was subtle, cruel.

Logic told him that Yun Qinghong was just a secondary character from a novel he had read in his past life. A name in a paragraph, the father of the protagonist he despised with every fiber of his being: Scum Che. An arrogant, impulsive piece of trash, driven by hormones and luck, fawned over by women who should have been far above him, protected by a ridiculous plot and an Ancestral Goddess who treated him like the reincarnation of the Dao.

Yes, he remembered it all too well.

He recalled the growing hatred he felt with every chapter of the novel as he watched that useless fool be forgiven, exalted, admired for actions that, in the real world, would inspire repulsion.

But he was occupying the body of the boy who had been adopted by the protagonist's parents…

Real parents.

People who loved him.

Who raised him with care. Who cared, even when the world didn't.

Ren Zu sighed, and as he passed through the garden, his feet stopped on their own. He looked at a small plum tree, its fruits still ripening. He remembered a scene… not his, but the former Ren Zu's, sitting under that same tree, listening to his father talk about cultivating the spirit while his mother laughed softly with a bowl of tea in her hands.

It was a borrowed memory.

But it hurt as if it were his own.

"That man…" he thought, his throat tightening, "…has been more of a father to me in seven days than my real father was in my entire previous life."

And then… there was the problem.

Scum Che.

The real son.

"That worm will look me in the eyes one day and say he sees me as a brother."

Ren Zu almost laughed, but it was a dry, humorless sound.

"Brother?"

The idea was absurd. Unacceptable.

But he already knew. When that idiot found out that the once "useless" Ren Zu had been raised by his parents, he would surely make a spectacle of it. With his obsession for conquering everything around him, he'd try to turn it into another narrative of overcoming, brotherhood, and… connection…

Ren Zu scoffed, with contempt.

"The only connection I want is my sword through his neck."

But even that… was uncertain.

Because he doubted two things.

First, whether he would have the strength to defeat him with the Ancestral Goddess at his side, that divine aberration who hovered over him like a lovesick shadow, willing to rewrite the laws of the world for that trash.

Second… whether he could face Mu Yurou and Yun Qinghong afterward.

"If I kill him… even with reason… they'll never forgive me."

And that was what weakened him most.

Because he, who should be a cold, logical, unshakable cultivator… now found himself caught between duty and bond.

Between what the world needed him to do… and what his heart, foolish and tainted by the memories of that other Ren Zu, feared losing.

When he reached the entrance to his courtyard, he looked at the sky tinged pink by the morning sun. The clouds moved slowly, as if mocking his hesitation.

"What do I do…" he murmured, too softly for anyone to hear.

But no answer came.

Because perhaps… there was no right answer.

Only choices.

And consequences.

He crossed the threshold, entered his room, and locked himself in.

Now, the seclusion would begin.

Whatever path he chose, he knew one thing:

Nothing would be simple.

And time, as always, was against him.

Only three years remained until he would face the one he hated.

He needed to become stronger…

_______________________

Aura of the Banished Immortal: The one who possesses it exudes a "charm" and appearance of such a high level that anyone who looks at them for long enough will fall completely in love—so deeply that they would be willing to throw their life away at a mere command. There is no possibility of resistance or recovery. A straight man would question his own sexuality. A woman would fall hopelessly in love and wait for him until her hair turned white.

The Aura of the Banished Immortal can unconsciously distort people's minds to make them believe his words. In other words, if he pretends to be unaware of his appearance, no one will ask something "logical" like how did he become so handsome?—because his looks and charm have already surpassed anything logical in the world.

He would basically be a version of Qianye Ying'er, who is considered the most beautiful woman alongside the Primordial Chaos ~

But don't worry — that won't be the main focus. His appearance and strength just make romance easier to develop. That's why I made him perfect in terms of looks, while his power will gradually grow stronger over time.

💬 And hey — want to just read ahead a bit?

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