The scene shifted to the quiet outskirts near the Fukaki Rainforest.
The morning sun was half-veiled behind a massive black cloud. Golden beams of sunlight escaped through the breaks in the darkness, falling softly on the dewy grass below. It looked as if heaven's light itself were brushing the earth with its fingertips.
This place sat between the territories of Fukaki and Bayakuya. From the elevated land, one could easily see down into the neighboring regions. One of those few clan which lived nearby , while the Yin Lan Clan resided much farther away, ruling from the distant Yǐngluò Chéng. Though far, the Yin Lan were charged with maintaining peace and justice throughout these lands too .
The Lanxie Clan, however, remained hidden from the common world—concealed within their own secret domain, safe from prying eyes. They operated from the shadows, protecting not just themselves, but their darker secrets as well.
A lone figure climbed the mountain path of Zhēnmìng Shān (真命山) — the Mountain of True Fate. It was none other than Xio.
Wounds marred his body, and the lack of sleep etched faint shadows under his eyes. Yet a sense of quiet relief lingered on his face. It was as if a great weight had just been lifted—the kind that only comes after surviving something dangerous.
He checked his appearance, ensuring the injuries around his neck—left by Kirihito—were hidden. No one in the clan must know he had encountered the First-Class Special-Grade Curse Yokai that his step-uncle, Kage Ou, had been hunting.
Xio held a small golden flame-shaped object in his hand: the Master Key to their domain, Bái Rùxiān (白入仙), meaning White Enters Immortal. The domain could not be accessed without it.
"All clear... Now I just have to keep my act up," he muttered.
He pressed the key against what appeared to be empty air. The invisible wall shimmered briefly before opening like a massive door. After one last glance around, Xio stepped inside, and the portal sealed shut behind him.
He was home.
The Bái Rùxiān domain was more than just a hidden sanctuary—it was an entire self-contained city, alive and bustling with activity. Merchants carried fresh goods to market. Women hawked wares along the street. Everything functioned like any normal society—except this city belonged to the Lanxie, and that meant secrets, shadows, and silent power games.
As Xio walked further in, a group of people approached from the opposite direction. Though not formal clan members, they bore the Lanxie crest—unofficial cultivators who lived on the edges of the inner circle.
Bound in chains, a line of captives from Bayakuya shuffled behind them—thin, bruised, and hollow-eyed. Their wrists and ankles were tied, and some guards barked cruel commands at them.
"H-Have mercy! Please, don't hit us!" one captive cried.
A cruel laugh answered him.
One of the men leading the captives offered Xio a shallow bow—smiling faintly, almost mockingly. The smirk on his lips was unreadable: challenge, jealousy, or perhaps something deeper. Xio returned only a curt nod.
His eyes dimmed, any trace of warmth vanishing.
He sighed and pinched the corners of his eyes—his fingers coming away slightly damp. He didn't cry, but the sting was there.
"Please don't hurt my wife! She's five months pregnant!" another captive begged.
Xio froze.
The smirking man—the unofficial cultivator from earlier—paused too. His sharp green eyes locked onto Xio, waiting.
Xio's voice came low, controlled.
"You shouldn't be harsh to women. In the end... you were born from one, too."
Everyone turned.
The green-eyed man stepped forward. His gaze was half-lidded, smug, yet his bow to Xio was exaggerated and slow—mockery masked as reverence.
"Good morning, Lara Kumsun Xio Zhan," he drawled.
Xio sighed, rubbing his temple. He wasn't in the mood. His body ached. He wanted rest. His face expressionless
"Just do as I said."
Xio's cold and master alike attitude made the man's smirk fade away in a short time...
Jealousy burned in his eyes. He was clearly insulted. Whispers stirred among the crowd.
"No wonder he's the Second Dao..." someone murmured.
Even the captives seemed to look at Xio with a faint glimmer of hope.
"You have too much pride! How dare you look down on me? Don't you remember who I am?!" the man shouted.
Xio blinked, unfazed.
"Ah... um... no. Who are you, really?" he asked, puzzled. It sounded both genuine and slightly mocking.
The man blinked, stunned.
Then he regained himself, furious.
"How did someone like you become Lara Kumsun with such a poor memory?!"
Xio huffed and crossed his arms...
"I don't remember things I don't need."
The man's expression twisted—rage, jealousy, and something else flickering behind his mask.
"Forgetting... your own deskmate that easily? You call that unnecessary , " No need " thing ?!"
Xio paused and blinked thoughtfully like finally he got some links
Then, slowly, he pointed.
"Oh... Lu Yǐngluò , huh?" he mused.
He nodded to himself with cold eyes . His eyes were filled with old pain and memories..but he presents it in a funny way
"That shameless who used to steal my homework... so I'd get scolded and you'd get praised... and that made you the Second Grandmaster?"
Yǐngluò stiffened.
Behind him, people stifled laughter.
"So Master Yǐngluò was always riding on Lara Kumsun's back?" someone whispered.
His face turned red with shame.
Xio chuckled softly, covering his mouth with one hand. He was too tired to fully enjoy it, but it was satisfying . It's been a while since he last teased someone naturally instead of staying distant among everyone
Yǐngluò shouted, "SHUT UP!"
He turned to Xio, eyes glassy with emotion.
"What kind of memory is that?!"
Xio bit his lip thoughtfully.
"Is it my fault you made yourself famous by stealing what was mine?"
"Was I only a thief to you?!"
Xio sighed...his voice a bit lower..both dangerous and filled with old sorrow
"Do I have to list what else you stole?"
Yǐngluò said nothing...he could guess what is it about
Then, with a frustrated cry, he lunged with his sword.
The fight wasn't long but enough to size yinglòu
Xio dodged, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back. His other arm locked him in place, and Yǐngluò's back hit Xio's chest.
"AAAHH! LET GO OF ME!"
The sword clattered to the ground.
Both of them breathed hard—Xio from exhaustion, Yǐngluò from rage.
The heat of Xio's breath against Yǐngluò's ear made his pulse spike.
It felt... familiar. Too familiar.
"You're lucky I'm not in the mood," Xio whispered. "Or I'd break your arm and gift it to my uncle for his showcase."
He shoved Yǐngluò aside.
The man hissed in pain, rolling his arm. Xio had already turned away.
"Tch... that asshole," Yǐngluò muttered.
He took up his sword, brushing off his subordinates.
As they walked, Xio murmured under his breath:
"Still foolish... just like before."
His hair danced in the gentle morning wind as he disappeared into the heart of Bái Rùxiān.