Chapter 397 - Revisiting Old Mysteries
A full year passed after I planned to return to the Misty Mountains. That year was consumed by preparation. I had no intention of repeating past mistakes and I intended to go back with a small, carefully selected elite team.
From summer to summer, assembling that team tested my patience more than any battlefield. Talent was easy enough to find. Stability was not. In the end, what I gathered were capable fighters who also happened to be varying degrees of annoying psychos.
A year had passed.
Sometimes I forgot how quickly time moved when I wasn’t staring straight at it. Seasons shifted. Leaves fell. Snow melted. And suddenly, the small bundle I had once held in both hands was standing on unsteady legs, glaring at me.
They were two.
My kids were two years old.
It still felt strange thinking that.
They could string together simple sentences now. Not perfectly. Not smoothly. But enough to make me pause when one of them tugged at my sleeve and spoke with unmistakable intent.
“Father, why sky blue?”
“Father, no spicy.”
“Father, carry.”
But whenever guests came over, they would go and hide behind their mother, acting all shy and well-behaved.
I had taken to educating them early. Probably earlier than anyone would consider necessary. Basic characters. Simple patterns. Letting them sit near me while I reviewed array diagrams, not to understand them, but to grow used to lines, symbols, and structure. I didn’t want them growing up slow simply because I had been careless.
Maybe it was excessive.
Maybe it was fear.
In my previous life, I had never thought about how a mind formed. Now I watched it happen day by day. I saw how quickly they absorbed words, how they mimicked tone, how their eyes sharpened with recognition when something clicked into place.
They could already string simple sentences together by combining words, even at their age, which made me prouder than something so small and entirely insignificant should have made me.
And they had grown faster than I had been ready for.
I stood before the front gate of the Blazing Sun Sect, the same gate that had been destroyed countless times by monstrous beasts before finally being rebuilt and reinforced. Its surface was covered in strange, intricate writings, layered over darkened material that seemed to absorb the light around it.
The entire structure radiated an eerie, unsettling presence.
But none of my group were bothered by it. They had bigger worries, like defending themselves against the other team members.
My team consisted of me, the usual librarian who had the part-time job of a peacemaker, so these people didn’t kill each other.
Then there was Song Song, the main initiator of any conflict here. I had thought she had recently calmed down, but it seemed like she just hadn’t seen her favorite enemies in a while. She kept releasing a sense of malice as she stared at the strongest member of our group. As someone who was almost thirty years old, she hadn’t changed much in the decade I had known her.
The main target of that malice was Ye An, who now had a head of fully white hair. One of her eyes had turned gray, blinded by the icy Qi in her body, and her lips were cracked and chapped like ice. There was an aura of coldness around her, with her breathing very soft, almost like a dead person.
Next was Wu Yan, the ever-friendly girl, though she was the weirdest among us. Because even I could no longer see through her cultivation, it was the result of her abstract element of change. But since she had become a Core Formation Cultivator, her bodily problems had stopped, and now she even carried herself with confidence.
She was the secondary reason, after me, why Ye An and Song Song hadn't fought yet. Because neither of them would have an easy fight against Wu Yan.
Wu Yan was the closest person ever recorded to having a perfectly realized Extreme Physique. Even at Core Formation and with the lack of experience and instinct in fighting, she could fight above her level.
But Ye An and Song Song were not the only ones I was keeping an eye on. Song San was also here.
He really had the survivability of a cockroach. After disappearing for a year, with many assuming he was dead or had turned traitor, he had returned as if nothing had happened. Only I knew he had been severely injured.
Though this time away seemed to have cooled him down. I was not the kind of man who only relied on instincts and gut feelings, but it seemed like, for some reason, Song San had calmed down. Just his sister not picking a fight with him was proof enough that he had changed a bit. He usually had a bad habit of pushing her buttons.
As for the last two members, the weakest on this team were Jiang Yeming who had barely progressed this year, much like me and the last member was Tingfeng.
This guy, after becoming a Foundation Establishment Cultivator, had hit the ground running and had never looked back. He was a seven-star Foundation Establishment Cultivator, as his talent, combined with his insight into his element, was truly a cheat-like ability. We had also worked together on the composition of his Foundation Techniques, so there were no shoddy advancements.
He was incomparable to Wu Yan, who was an actual cheat. But he was very close to Song Song in cultivation speed and fighting power. If her raw talent wasn't higher than his, he would have no doubt surpassed her.
Song Song had a tendency to play around, but Tingfeng was very focused.
Wait, this world didn't really have psychologists, and I had never been too interested in the subject in my previous life.
However, I was pretty sure Tingfeng was a bit autistic… perhaps more than a bit.
Anyway, it didn't matter much. He was the student I was most proud of!
Sure, he couldn't compare to the other Core Formation Cultivators in the team, or me, who could use Level 6 Arrays. But he was still a very valuable member with certain insights.
As for why Jiang Yeming was here, it was because she had future knowledge and was a regressor. Ironically, she was the least impressive on the team.
“I like hanging around with you people as much as I like seeing worms eating leaves. But when are we going to set off?” Song San asked. Strangely, none of that usual tendency to incite conflict was there. But those snide remarks were ingrained habits.
“I hoped you people would talk a bit more with each other, to put your grievances with others in the team forward, so we can deal with problems before arriving at the Misty Mountains,” I said.
Everyone here had a rough understanding of where we were going and what our experiences in the Misty Mountains had been.
Each of them had their own reasons like Jiang Yeming was looking for something, Song Song came because it sounded fun, Ye An hoped for a cure, and Tingfeng had decided to face challenges head-on.
The only one whose intentions I couldn't quite read was Song San. I had assumed he wouldn't even answer my call.
Sure, he was curious too, and might like to test his poisons. But he was never stupid enough to put his life on the line for a thrill. Well, he did that often but not intentionally… Usually, it was just his arrogance and overconfidence.
“I think…” Jiang Yeming opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw everyone turning toward her, she closed her mouth and gave a polite smile. “Sorry, I will let the seniors decide.”
Jiang Yeming glanced at Tingfeng from the corner of her eyes. Their relationship had never improved after their initial breach of trust.
“This is rather depressing. I can't believe my life will lie in the hands of people like you,” Ye An said, her voice raspy, sending out cold mist with each breath she let out.
Song Song frowned but didn't argue against her.
Ye An was now a seven-star Core Formation Cultivator and a very dangerous one, currently the strongest among us and likely having an edge over Song Song, who was a four-star Core Formation Cultivator. Even Song Song had only just broken through recently.
The gap between Song Song and Ye An was growing bigger, no matter how hard Song Song tried to close it.
Perhaps Song Song might have done better in this silly competition of theirs if she hadn't liked playing around a bit too much. Her whole life, she had never had a rival, but Ye An was someone who had genuinely surpassed her.
Seeing that no one was going to say anything useful, and there was no bonding moment to be had before going on a dangerous journey, it was time we moved along.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said. “But we should set off now. Though I would like to warn everyone that fighting among ourselves is forbidden.”
I was currently the one with the most connections in the group, and if one of them broke my rules, the others would follow me to punish them.
Song San was the main suspect when it came to doing something crazy like that.
After that debacle, we set off while keeping a safe distance from each other and keeping an eye out for ambushes from both outsiders and fellow team members.
Except for Wu Yan, everyone else had some conflict or another. Even I, as the leader, had a conflict with Song San.
Talk about a mess of a team.
…
We travelled at a moderate pace for weeks, talking about our plans along the way and working out countermeasures while coming up with imaginary dangerous scenarios.
Despite none of us being on amicable terms with the whole team, days of silence eventually forced some words out of us, speaking about what we wanted from this mission.
On the journey, there were days when nothing tried to kill us.
One of those evenings, we settled beside a slow-moving river. The current carried fallen leaves lazily downstream, their edges catching the orange light of the fire we had built. We dragged a few thick logs close and used them as seats, boots resting against warm mud while sparks drifted upward into the darkening sky.
The forest around us murmured softly with the brushing of water against stone, wood popping in the flames, the occasional insect buzzing too close before vanishing into the night.
Song San leaned back on his log, hands behind his head, porcelain mask tilted toward the sky as though he were admiring the stars.
“You know,” he said lazily, “from a distance, we must look like one of those fancy carnival troupes.”
I glanced at him. “Carnival troupe?”
“Yes,” he continued, waving one hand vaguely. “The kind that spits fire, juggles blades, pretends to be cultivators with meager tricks to impress mortals.”
Ye An snorted. Song Song didn’t react.
Song San lowered his hands and looked around the fire at us. “We should give it a name.”
“A name,” I repeated flatly.
“Yes. Every proper troupe has one, and we are a team after all.”
Song Song opened her mouth, clearly intending to object purely out of instinct. Disagreeing with her brother was almost reflexive. But then she paused, her eyes sliding briefly toward me, something thoughtful flickering across her expression.
“The Disgraced Ones,” she said instead.
The words hung in the air.
Song San tilted his head slightly. “Oh?”
She shrugged lightly. “Seems fitting.”
He couldn't help a dry chuckle. “I did well in this war, sister. Well enough that all my disgraces have been washed away.”
Song Song responded with a sharp smile of her own and glanced at her brother with an eerie, dangerous gaze.
Song San let out a soft laugh at that. “But since our dear librarian brought us together…”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It almost felt like I could see that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, even though he was wearing a mask.
“…we should call ourselves the Black Chapter.”
The firelight flickered across the porcelain mask, shadows dancing along its smooth surface.
Song Song didn’t miss it.
She could read behind that smirk. The Black Chapter wasn’t just a reference to books. It wasn’t just a joke about me being a librarian.
It was her.
As if she were the dark page in someone else’s story. The stain.
For a heartbeat, her gaze sharpened.
Then she smiled again.
“If it were just you,” she replied calmly, “it would be better named Black Sheep, or The Charred Bastards.”
Ye An barked out a laugh before she could stop herself, her icy breath almost freezing the flames solid. But I had erected an array around the fire, so it only froze the weak outer layer.
Song San placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Cruel.”
“But accurate,” Song Song said lightly.
The river kept flowing. The fire crackled.
For a brief moment, beneath the weight of wars and poisons and broken sects, we really did look like nothing more than a troupe of wandering performers, laughing at names that didn’t matter.
But beneath the jokes, we all knew.
Though most didn't know what the future held, it was highly likely that this expedition to the Misty Mountains would be recorded, even if we didn't succeed.
Black Chapter… that was actually kind of a cool name to have as a team.
The conversation drifted into nothing important like travel routes, sect rumors, and whether Wu Yan could morph a mouth large enough to snore louder or eat more.
The fire had burned lower by the time Song San decided to ruin the peace again.
“Speaking of names… children need good ones,” Song San said, almost casually. “Do any of you have good suggestions for children's names?”
I glanced at him. “That’s a strange direction.”
He shrugged. “Is it?”
What was he getting at? Was this some subtle threat against me? My children?
Because if it was, then that was a really dumb fucking idea on his part.
Song Song narrowed her eyes slightly. “You don’t even like children. You even poisoned that one cousin of ours once, and he could never walk again since he was four.”
“I don’t like most people,” he corrected. “Children are merely unfinished versions.”
“Why are we talking about this?” Jiang Yeming asked, looking around for answers, as for the first time it felt like she was genuinely confused by something happening.
Tingfeng, on the other hand, was staring at the sky absentmindedly, not caring much.
Song San tilted his porcelain mask toward the flickering flames. “Because I have one.”
Silence fell so abruptly that even the river seemed louder.
“You have what?” Song Song asked, not believing her own ears.
“A child,” he repeated, as if clarifying the weather. “Recently.”
Jiang Yeming nearly choked on nothing.
Song Song stared at him. Not blinking.
“You’re tricking us again just because you think it would be funny,” she said flatly.
“Not really that funny,” he replied.
I felt my mind trying to rearrange the pieces. Song San, the poison master, battlefield devil, survival cockroach, and walking catastrophe, had a child.
“With who?” Song Song asked bluntly.
“An ex-colleague of our mother’s,” he said. “Decades older than me. Peak Foundation Establishment. Quite capable.”
That only made it worse, as Song Song's face scrunched up in disgust, like even the thought of her brother having descendants grossed her out.
“I can't believe someone would do the deed with you, not to mention how you look now, like a raw ham,” Song Song insulted him.
“You were injured and gone for months,” I said slowly, remembering that period.
I knew from my informants that after he had been injured by Core Formation beasts, Song San had escaped through some strange shadow technique that teleported him away.
“How did something like that even happen?” Song Song’s expression darkened. “You had a child with one of your crazy mother's acquaintances?”
“She’s not merely an acquaintance,” he said mildly. “She was competent. Strong. Stable.”
“Stable,” Song Song repeated, disbelief seeping into her voice. “You?”
He ignored the jab.
Across the fire, Ye An sat very still.
The flames reflected faintly in her eyes, but her breath came in thin white strands, even in the mild night air. The Extreme Yin within her never truly quieted. Frost had formed along the edge of the log she sat on.
“Was?” I inquired. “What do you mean by that?”
“She died during childbirth,” Song San said.
“You?” Song Song said again, sharper this time. “You, of all people, decided to become a father?”
Song San leaned back comfortably. “Why not? Even beasts reproduce. Why can't I? Though it was kind of coincidental…”
“That’s not reassuring,” I muttered.
He turned his masked gaze toward me. “You sound troubled, librarian.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because I was.
I thought of Fu Yating. Of the quiet anxiety I carried every day. Of the arrays beneath my house, of tokens and contingency plans. Of how powerless I had felt when she told me she was pregnant.
“You don’t strike me as the nurturing type,” I said finally.
“I’m not,” Song San replied easily. “That’s what strong mothers are for.”
“But your child's mother is dead,” I pointed out. “Who is even taking care of her now?”
“I just put her in an orphanage for the time being. I will get her back when we return,” Song San shrugged without a care in the world.
Song Song let out a cold laugh. “So you’ll what? Teach the child how to poison rivers?”
“If necessary.”
The siblings were bickering as usual, with neither of them noticing the bigger picture.
Song San had changed somewhat, but clearly not enough to actually be a good father.
“If you're going to leave a child like that alone in the world, I would rather you bring her to me and I will take care of her,” I offered.
All eyes shifted to me, as everyone was surprised by my offer.
Though I was not a generous person, the least I could do was help someone who needed it when I could easily do so.
“Was she born healthy?” I asked.
At the end of the day, this was also Song Song's niece, and while she wouldn't care about things like blood relation, I couldn't just hear about a neglected child and ignore it, knowing the kid was never going to have a happy life with Song San as a father.
Song San tilted his head. “As far as I know.”
I nodded once, lips pressing thin.
Healthy.
The word felt fragile.
I studied his face, the faint burn on his lashes, the tightness in his jaw.
The fire popped loudly, sparks spiraling upward.
I looked at each of them in turn… the Poison Devil with a child, the two crazy siblings, the dying genius clutching at survival, and the rest of us pretending we weren’t all balancing on the edge of something dangerous.
A strange thought crossed my mind.
No matter how used I got to this world, every time I hung out with these weirdos, I was surprised in one way or another.
“You should name her Song Gu, if she is going to be as poisonous as you,” Song Song mocked him.
Gu meant poisonous spirit, and it sounded more like the name of a curse than a child.
“How old is your child?” I asked.
“One year old, around that,” he said, rubbing the chin of his porcelain mask as he thought.
He hadn't named his child, even though she had been alive for a whole year… that was very neglectful parenting. But not surprising.
…
Morning came, and we set off after stamping out the fire, and two days later, we arrived at the foot of the Misty Mountains.