The world, Xio mused in his half-sleep, was a complicated tapestry, where the threads of love and hate were dyed in the exact same crimson hue. It was a place where motives blurred and intentions were veiled, and this murky reality was exactly what the world around him felt like.
A thunderous, enraged roar ripped through the mountain air, shattering his strange, philosophical reverie.
"Insect Xio! Where is my dragon fruit?! I'll surely break your hips now!"
Kirihito's furious, familiar voice snapped Xio fully awake.
"No, no, no! Don't you dare do this again!" Xio hissed in mild panic, his eyes flying open as he realized the absurdity of his nightmare. He was not cornered; he was safe. Relief washed over him as he turned toward his sister, Lànhuā, who was sleeping soundly beside him, her breathing light and even.
He blinked slowly, watching the early morning light filter through the window, and sat up in bed, letting out a quiet yawn. Carefully, he stretched his arms, a wince of pain flaring up from his injured hand. His eyes, however, searched for someone else.
"Where did Uncle Lìng go?" he mumbled to himself, the question barely a whisper.
Then the reason for the absence clicked into place. "If Uncle left… it means my step-uncle went too? They always stay together, like black and white," he concluded, running his fingers through his hair. He glanced out the window. Their residence was nestled on one of the highest peaks of the Fukaki range.
Lìngxi's clan was situated on an even more impossibly high mountain—so lofty, in fact, that its silhouette could be faintly seen from the transparent, ethereal domain of Bái Rùxiān.
Xio remembered the day's significance: today was the holy occasion of "Xuè Qīn Lòu" (Blood Relative Leak), a sacred day that occurred only once every five years. On this day, devout followers of the Qín Xī Lòu religion gathered en masse to pray for lasting peace and to offer appeasement to their revered gods.
Typically, the central, most powerful ritual could only be performed by the clan's primary Chief Daozhu. Normal cultivators and secondary-tier Daozhus would simply follow the main Daozhu's lead.
But that wasn't all.
Today was also the anniversary of Lìngxi and Kageon's first meeting—their cherished Friendship Day. Xio allowed a faint, knowing smirk to grace his lips. "Oh… that's why Uncle Lìng was acting so normal all along—he was trying to surprise his friend," he realized.
He carefully slid out of bed, his movements precise and silent so as not to disturb Lànhuā.
"Uncle Lìngxi is too good at acting… I got fooled and thought today was just any normal day," he mumbled, smoothing his clothes and hair before heading toward the door.
Since I'm not urgently needed there, and I don't want to disturb their sacred day and ceremony… I'll just go to see Wèi Yīlíng, Xio thought to himself.
He silently gathered a generous bundle of ripe dragon fruits into a small bag. "The hungry fool… must be growling because I'm late," he murmured, a familiar fondness warming his chest.
But as he reached the door, he froze. His conscience wouldn't allow him to simply leave his sister unprotected. An idea, albeit a painful one, came to mind. He raised both of his hands, ignoring the throbbing, unbearable pain in his recently injured limb. He channeled his inner energy, struggling slightly to execute the demanding Kagetsu Jutsu with his damaged arm.
"I feel useless because of this injury," he whispered, annoyed at his own physical limitation.
He froze again, his mind racing through dark possibilities: If I'm struggling here… what about Yìn Yàn Jèi Jèi? Did it get unsealed?! No, no, no… that snake will slip out! I have to move fast!
"Come on…" he growled through gritted teeth, pushing past the pain.
This time, the energy coalesced, and he successfully created a perfect clone of himself. He let out a deep, cleansing breath. "Finally," he sighed, the victory sweet.
The clone tilted its head, its voice flat and almost emotionless. "May I know what I have to do?"
Xio's eyes softened as they landed back on the cutesy, sleeping Lànhuā. He turned to his copy. "Take care of my sister while I'm out… and send a signal to me if you sense any danger."
The clone's eyes flickered down to the bag of dragon fruits in Xio's hand, then it nodded. "As your wish. I will do as I'm told."
"Alright… I'm leaving now," Xio whispered with a small smile, and he slipped out of the room. He was silently excited to see Kirihito's reaction to the massive stash of dragon fruits.
The clone bowed deeply until the door closed behind the original. Once Xio was gone, the clone straightened, his gaze fixed on Lànhuā. "I'll try to be more careful to you than him…" the clone suddenly promised himself. It was a profound, illogical thought, given that clones are typically emotionless entities that only execute their programmed tasks.
The day outside was clean, beautiful, and vibrant—almost as if it had been specially arranged for the solemn rituals of the specialists.
Xio secured the dragon fruits in his bag and headed toward the main gate of Lìngxi's domain. "Just wait a little, snake… your dragon fruits are on their way," he murmured to himself.
Suddenly, a familiar, unwelcome figure materialized directly in front of him. It was Yinglòu again.
Xio looked up at the guy, who wore a self-satisfied smirk. "In too much of a hurry? But how can I leave you without answering for what you did hours ago, Dàozǔ Xio?~"
Xio rolled his eyes, his mood instantly ruined. "Get off… I've no time for your nonsense," he warned, his tone light but the steel underneath clear. He added, "I never. Ever had."
Yinglòu looked at him, a mix of complex emotions swirling in his eyes. He stepped closer, but Xio moved away with a sharp huff, a move that clearly wounded Yinglòu's ego.
"Running away like a girl?~ Princess," Yinglòu teased, suddenly reaching out and seizing Xio's injured hand.
Xio bit back a pained hiss; the wound had not healed. "Let. Go… or it will not be good. I'm not in the mood for this, Yinglòu."
"What will you do? Kill me?" Yinglòu challenged.
"Maybe yes," Xio replied without hesitation.
Yinglòu's eyes darkened slightly. "Oh, maybe?"
"No, surely it, that's for sure." Xio violently snatched his hand away, then turned back to Yinglòu only to grip him fiercely by his collar. "You've already destroyed me well enough. Now don't follow me like a shadow… I'm also a human." Xio's eyes were cold, reflecting neither kindness nor light.
Yinglòu's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. What could he say? He truly was the one who had half-destroyed Xio, yet Yinglòu would still inevitably return, seeking to mend their three broken hearts.
He huffed, wrenching himself free from Xio's insulting grip. "Pervert," he cursed under his breath. "Fine. Breathe some days more before you actually regret it." With that, he turned and left.
Xio watched him go. "Waste of oxygen," he said, then took a deep, steadying breath and moved on.