Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng froze in horror, their faces paling as they beheld the grim assembly before them. The elders of Sect Mount Dingbu, all clad in their ceremonial robes, stood in a semi-circle with swords drawn, their expressions stern and unyielding. The air was thick with tension, their presence an unmistakable omen of confrontation.
"Shizun!" Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng cried in unison, their voices echoing across the mountaintop as they rushed forward to shield their master. Their movements were fluid, yet there was an underlying panic in their haste as they placed themselves between Xue Laohu and the gleaming blades of their sect's elders.
Xue Laohu, who had just emerged from his long seclusion, frowned deeply. His robes fluttered dramatically in the wind as he flicked his wrist, the subtle motion underscoring the simmering fury in his posture. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. His sharp gaze swept over the elders, each face more resolute than the last, and his teeth clenched as his anger mounted.
Elder Yanse stepped forward, her expression cold and unrelenting. Her sword gleamed under the dim sunlight as she pointed it at Xue Laohu. "Grandmaster Xue," she declared, her voice ringing with authority. "We have reason to believe that you are an imposter. Surrender yourself peacefully, or we will be forced to take action."
Xue Laohu's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, the sharp crack of Xue Tuzi's whip sliced through the air. The whip coiled tightly around the blade of Elder Yanse's sword, holding it at bay.
"You will not harm our Shizun!" Xue Tuzi snarled, his knuckles white as he gripped the whip with unwavering resolve.
Elder Zhiwu stepped forward with a sinister grin, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Any interference will be seen as treasonous!" he declared, his tone laced with mockery. He looked down on Xue Laohu and his disciples with undisguised contempt, as though they were no more than ants before him.
"Enough!" Sect Leader Mao's voice boomed across the gathering, silencing the murmurs among the elders. He stroked his long beard with a sigh, his expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Must we resort to such violent measures?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over the assembly before turning to Xue Laohu.
Sect Leader Mao stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. "We have yet to determine whether Grandmaster Xue Laohu truly is an imposter," he said, his voice carrying a tone of reason. His hands clasped behind his back, as he regarded Xue Laohu with a steady, probing gaze.
Xue Laohu's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and a flicker of hope lit up his eyes. "Sect Leader Mao!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion. "You must believe me!"
But Sect Leader Mao shook his head solemnly. "However," he continued, his voice dropping to a grim note, "there is no denying that the man before us is quite unlike the Grandmaster Xue we have known and revered for centuries."
The weight of Sect Leader Mao's words settled heavily on Xue Laohu. His clenched fists loosened, and his gaze fell to the ground. The realization hit him like a tidal wave, cold and unforgiving. There was no escaping the truth.
Because Xue Laohu—no, Yi Ming—was indeed an imposter.
His mind wandered back to the fateful day when he, a nineteen-year-old college student, had tumbled down the stairs for tattling on his sister about her collection of boys' love novels. The last thing he remembered was clutching one of her books, the absurdly titled "Bound by Darkness, Yet Drawn by Love: The Demon's Eternal Curse and the Mortal's Unbreakable Heart in a World that Shouldn't Let Them Be Together but Somehow Against All Odds, They Copulate" before transmigrating into the novel.
He hadn't even read the book—just flipped it open to see a fan art where two men were tangled together in an explicit scene that made him slam it shut in shock. Yet somehow, he had awoken in this world, thrust into the role of Xue Laohu, a character he knew nothing about.
The system that brought him here had been frustratingly vague. No details, no memories, no guidance. He didn't know who Xue Laohu was, what his personality was like, or even how to behave as the supposed grandmaster of this sect. He was, in every sense of the word, an imposter.
Yi Ming—Xue Laohu—lifted his gaze to meet Lord Mao's scrutinizing eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down on him. He had no idea how to prove his innocence—or whether he even could.
"I…" he began, his voice faltering. His hands trembled as he struggled to find the words.
But before he could speak, Elder Yanse raised her sword again, her expression hardening. "If you will not surrender, then you leave us no choice!" she declared.
Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng tightened their stances, ready to fight for their master, their loyalty unwavering despite the odds stacked against them. The tension crackled like a live wire, and Yi Ming could feel the storm of confrontation brewing.
He clenched his fists again, his nails biting into his palms. If he was going to survive this ordeal, he would have to think fast—and hope that somehow, against all odds, he could make it out alive.
The tension in the air was thick, as though the very heavens themselves were holding their breath. Sect Leader Mao, paced back and forth, he leaned forward slightly, stroking his beard in thought. His voice broke the silence, low and almost imperceptible at first, muttering under his breath, "Although, I must say, I do like this version better."
Sect Leader Mao's thoughts drifted back to that fateful evening in his private study. The room had been dimly lit, the flickering glow of lanterns casting dancing shadows on the walls lined with ancient scrolls and tomes. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the faint aroma of incense that burned in the corner, a quiet attempt at calming the tense atmosphere.
It had been shortly after Xue Laohu entered from seclusion. Sect Leader Mao recalled the gathering vividly. The elders had convened in secret, their faces lined with concern and, in some cases, suspicion. Elder Yanse was the first to speak, her voice laced with unease as she set down her tea with a quiet clink.
"As his martial sister," she began, her tone somber, "I trained with him for centuries under the Great Grandmaster. I know his mannerisms, his temperament. Xue Laohu has never been the talkative type. He was always stern and quiet, poised and reserved. This… childish behavior of late is completely uncharacteristic of him." She lifted her teacup again, sipping delicately, though her furrowed brow betrayed the depth of her worry.
The elders murmured their agreement, nodding and exchanging troubled glances.
Elder Kuoyu, always quick to seize an opportunity for theatrics, stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "And that's not the only troubling matter!" he declared, his voice rising to draw attention. "Grandmaster Xue has been housing demons in his quarters!"
A collective gasp swept through the room.
"One of those vile creatures even attacked one of my beloved disciples!" Elder Kuoyu exclaimed, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the corners of his beady eyes. The gesture was exaggerated, calculated. He looked around the room, ensuring that every elder saw his supposed distress. "How can we ignore such blatant disregard for the rules of our sect? Housing demons in the heart of Mount Dingbu! It's… it's unforgivable!"
Elder Yanse set her cup down sharply, the sound echoing in the tense silence. "This is true" she demanded, her voice low and cold.
Sect Leader Mao didn't need to answer. He knew the truth of it. He, too, had witnessed the strange changes in Xue Laohu.
His mind drifted further back to that fateful day. The memory of Xue Laohu staggering out of the cave after his supposed qi deviation was as vivid now as it had been then. His once long, flowing hair had been crudely cut, left jagged and short—a sacrilege to the image of the sect's revered grandmaster. His robes were disheveled, his expression utterly confused, as though he had no idea where he was.
"I remember it well," Sect Leader Mao admitted aloud, his voice tinged with melancholy. "He stumbled out, disoriented and… lost. The first thing he asked was, 'Where am I?'" He paused, his frown deepening. "Grandmaster would have never . Never."
"That's because this isn't Xue Laohu," Elder Zhiwu cut in sharply, his voice brimming with venom. He stood, his robes flowing around him as he began pacing the room. "Have we forgotten the chaos that demon Shudu brought upon our sect 900 years ago? Grandmaster Xue himself vanquished that creature, yet now this… imposter not only allows it to live but welcomes it into his quarters?"
Elder Zhiwu's voice rose with each word, his anger obvious. "It's an insult to the legacy of our sect! And we are sitting here, debating whether to act while this fraud openly mocks everything we stand for!"
The elders began murmuring again, their voices blending into a cacophony of agreement and dissent. Some banged their fists on the table, demanding action. Others exchanged worried glances, clearly torn.
Sect Leader Mao raised a hand to silence them, his face etched with fatigue. "Elder Zhiwu," he said evenly, though his voice carried a note of warning. "I understand your concern. But this so-called imposter has caused no harm to our sect, despite the oddities in his behavior. Let us not be too hasty."
"Hasty?" Elder Zhiwu barked, his eyes narrowing. "You call this hasty? This man—or whomever he is—has taken in disciples, cut his hair, changed his demeanor, and even invited demons into our sacred grounds! If that isn't enough to warrant action, then I fear for the future of Sect Mount Dingbu."
His words struck a chord with the other elders, who began to shout their agreement.
"Very well," Sect Leader Mao said at last, his voice heavy with resignation. He raised his hand again, silencing the uproar. "But allow me to question him first. Surely, he must answer for himself."
Elder Zhiwu frowned, his lips curling in disdain. With a dismissive "Hmph," he returned to his seat, crossing his arms as he leaned back.
Sect Leader Mao's gaze swept over the gathered elders, their faces a mixture of satisfaction and unease. His heart was heavy, burdened not only by the pressure of their demands but also by his own doubts. He had grown fond of this new Xue Laohu, despite the strangeness of it all. The lively, chatty grandmaster had brought a warmth to the sect that the old Xue Laohu never had. And yet, the inconsistencies could not be ignored.
As the memory faded, Sect Leader Mao's thoughts returned to the present. The weight of that decision still bore down on him, and the sight of Xue Laohu standing before him now only deepened the conflict within.
Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng stood firm before their Shizun, their bodies tense, ready to shield him at any cost. Xue Tuzi's fiery gaze darted across the gathered elders from the sect, his whip coiled tightly in one hand like a venomous serpent ready to strike. "Empty accusations!" he spat, his voice sharp and cutting through the tension like a blade. "All of you simply covet Shizun's position. None of you have the strength or wisdom to bear the title of Grandmaster. You are unworthy!"
Li Zhameng, though more reserved, nodded in agreement. His hands gripped his gun—a strange and rare weapon that felt foreign in the world of cultivators but had proven its worth in his hands. His sharp eyes scanned the elders, ready to act if anyone dared make a move against his Shizun.
The tension in the air was suffocating. Xue Laohu stood behind them, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the hems of his sleeves, his palms damp with sweat. He could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest, each beat a reminder of the precariousness of his position. The elders accusing stares burned into him, and he bit down on his bottom lip, debating for a brief moment whether to summon the system for help. But the thought soured in his mind—what good had the system ever been? It had thrown him into this mess with no manual, no instructions, and certainly no escape plan.
"Tell me," Elder Yanse's voice broke through the murmurs. Her words trembled slightly, though whether from fury or doubt, Xue Laohu couldn't tell. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and her arm, clutching her sword, shook just enough to betray her inner turmoil. Her eyes, however, were steady—burning with an intensity that felt like they could pierce through his very soul. "Who exactly are you?"
Xue Laohu straightened his back, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "I am Xue Laohu," he declared, his voice firm but hollow beneath its surface. "The Grandmaster of Sect Mount Dingbu."
The declaration rang out, but it felt like throwing a pebble into a vast, echoing canyon—small, insignificant against the enormity of the accusations against him. He saw the flicker of doubt in Elder Yanse's eyes, and his gaze shifted to Sect Leader Mao, searching for an ally in the sea of hostility.
"Sect Leader Mao," Xue Laohu said, his voice steady but tinged with a bitterness he couldn't suppress. "I'm quite disappointed by this display of disrespect. I have shown you nothing but kindness and respect since the day I took my position. And this… this is how you choose to treat me?" His teeth clenched as his tone hardened, his usual mild expression replaced by one of sharp determination. The wispy bangs framing his face swayed with the movement of his head, and his dark eyes burned with feigned confidence.
Sect Leader Mao shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Xue Laohu's stare, his expression unreadable. He coughed into his hand, a nervous gesture, and stepped back slightly, his gaze darting around the group of elders as though searching for a way to extricate himself from the conflict.
Elder Yanse, however, was unrelenting. She took a step forward, her sword lowering slightly but her voice rising. "Answer me this, then," she said, her voice gaining strength with each word. "If you truly are Xue Laohu, then tell me—what was the name of the Great Grandmaster?" Her eyes narrowed, and she took another step closer, her voice sharp and accusing. "What was our Shizun's name?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. A murmur rippled through the gathered elders as they exchanged glances, their suspicion deepening with each passing second.
Xue Laohu felt his stomach drop. His mind scrambled for answers, for any fragment of knowledge the system might have provided him about this world. But there was nothing—just a blank, mocking void. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to hold Elder Yanse's gaze.
The name of the Great Grandmaster? Yi Ming's thoughts raced in panic. How the hell would I know that? His mind scrambled for an answer, and then, out of desperation, he called forth the system buried within the recesses of his mind.
Hey, yo, System! he shouted inwardly, his tone sharp with urgency.
A sudden, blinding flash of neon light engulfed his vision, forcing him to squint. Then, accompanied by a raspy wheeze that sounded like a dying old hag, the system made its appearance.
WELCOME, USER.
Yi Ming inhaled deeply, his voice trembling with a thread of hope. System, what's the name of the Great Grandmaster?
For a brief second, silence reigned. Then, a deafening wheeze followed, cutting through his fragile hope like a blade.
SORRY, THAT INFORMATION IS UNAVAILABLE.
The words slammed into Yi Ming like a hammer. What?! His jaw dropped as disbelief coursed through him. The last update said I'd have access to new features and tools to navigate this story! And you're telling me you can't give me the name of one lousy side character?!
The system's wheezing intensified, a cough echoing like the sound of nails scraping against metal.
THAT IS CORRECT.
Yi Ming's hands flew to his hair, tugging the strands in exasperation. He cursed under his breath, his chest tightening with dread. Why? Why is that information unavailable? he mumbled, his fingers curling into fists as they slammed against the glowing neon screen hovering before him.
The system, as ever, remained infuriatingly calm.
THE NAME OF THE GREAT GRANDMASTER WAS NEVER STATED IN THE NOVEL. THEREFORE, THEIR NAME IS UNAVAILABLE.
The words hit Yi Ming like a slap across the face. Shit. His breath caught in his throat as the grim realization dawned upon him: the author of the novel had never thought to name the Great Grandmaster. That one detail, inconsequential in the original story, was now the very key to his survival.
He stared at the screen, his mind spiraling into chaos. It's over, he thought bitterly. His body trembled as frustration and fear clawed at him. Every ounce of hard work—the points he had painstakingly accumulated, the relationships he had navigated, the careful web of lies he had woven to survive in this world—was now hanging by a thread.
Elder Yanse's question rang in his ears like a death knell, her eyes boring into him with the weight of the sect's judgment. If he didn't come up with a way to answer, he'd be exposed for the fraud he was. Execution would be swift. There would be no second chances.
Think, Yi Ming, he urged himself, pacing in the confines of his mind. The neon glow of the system's interface mocked him, its unwavering text a silent reminder of his doom. You've bluffed your way this far.
But doubt lingered, whispering cruel truths in his ear. If he failed now, there would be no escape. What am I supposed to do?! he screamed inwardly, panic surging in waves. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as his mind raced for a plan, an excuse, anything that could buy him time.
The murmurs of the gathered elders grew louder. Suspicion thickened in the air like smoke, suffocating him. Xue Laohu swallowed hard, sweat trailing down his temple. If ever there was a time for quick thinking, it was now.