"It's a long story."
Mo Xuan let out a slow breath before gathering his thoughts and beginning to tell his story.
He didn't tell them everything — he left out the pieces that felt too heavy or too strange to put into words yet — but he spoke openly about the parts he could share. How he'd arrived at the sect as little more than a scared child. How Han Long had found him. How that eccentric man had, without warning or explanation, decided to take him on as a disciple. How he'd been forced through training that bordered on insanity. How he'd nearly died during the fusion of his Cosmic Soul. And finally, how his master had later gone out of his way to bring his father back into his life.
When he mentioned his father, both sisters' expressions softened at once, the earlier teasing edge draining out of their faces.
"...And some of my clan members will be moving here soon," Mo Xuan added. "Master said the environment here is more stable than where we used to live."
Yu Lianyan let out a low whistle. "Your master is really generous."
Mo Xuan gave a dry laugh. "Hmm."
The night breeze carried their voices back and forth as they traded pieces of the past — chasing fireflies through the clan gardens, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, getting caught and punished together more times than any of them could count, racing fallen leaves down the stream, and arguing with the absolute certainty that someone would apologise before the day ended. Moments that felt, all these years later, like fragments pulled out of an entirely different lifetime.
Then Yu Lianxue lifted her head, as if something important had suddenly surfaced in her memory. "Xuan... when we saw your fight with Qin Hao, we actually planned to speak with you afterwards," she said.
"About?"
"Cooperation," she answered.
Yu Lianyan leaned forward slightly, unable to hide the excitement creeping back into her voice. "A big one."
Mo Xuan raised a brow. "What kind?"
"We found something."
Mo Xuan looked up, his attention fully caught now.
"What kind of something?"
She glanced toward her sister, and Yu Lianxue answered in her place. "During a sect mission. It wasn't marked on the mission map. We only found it by accident."
Yu Lianyan's excitement returned in full force. "It's a cave." Her grin widened. "A Secret Realm."
The words fell into the night air between them, carrying more weight than any sword strike either sister had thrown at him earlier that evening. Mo Xuan froze, his eyes fixed intently on the twins.
Yu Lianyan cut back in, her voice sharp with barely restrained excitement. "It's not open yet. When we located it, the space around it was too stable — meaning the opening window hadn't arrived yet. But based on our calculations, it'll open in seven months."
Seven months. Mo Xuan turned the number over in his mind.
Yu Lianxue added quietly, "And it'll take four months to actually reach the location from the sect."
"We were planning to find a companion and leave early," Yu Lianyan said firmly, her flame-haired head held high, daring either of them to argue. "Delays. Unknown dangers along the way. Too many variables to risk cutting it close."
Mo Xuan leaned back slightly against the cliff's edge, absorbing everything she'd just laid out. The night wind tugged gently at his half-black, half-white hair as he worked through the numbers in his head. "What kind of Secret Realm is it?"
Yu Lianyan smirked, firelight dancing behind her eyes even without a flame in sight. "We don't really know."
"So... earlier was because of this?" Mo Xuan asked, scratching his cheek, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as the pieces clicked together.
Yu Lianyan coughed and looked away, suddenly finding the cliff's edge very interesting.
Yu Lianxue sighed. "We planned to test whether you'd make a good companion, based on how you handled yourself against Qin Hao. We truly didn't know you were... you."
"Well, now we know," Yu Lianyan said, turning back to face him fully, her flame-colored eyes locking onto his without hesitation. "You're coming with us."
Mo Xuan didn't agree right away. He turned the offer over carefully in his mind, weighing the risks, the unknown challenges waiting inside a realm no one had ever charted, the sheer number of variables stacked against them. Three months to prepare. Four months to travel. Seven months until the Secret Realm opened.
Then he nodded. "I'll come."
Simple. Final. No hesitation left in his voice once he'd made the decision.
The twins' eyes brightened at the same instant, though Yu Lianxue quickly buried hers beneath a soft, dismissive scoff, as if refusing to admit how pleased she actually was.
"Good," Yu Lianyan said. "Then we'll meet here in three months. We leave together."
Mo Xuan smiled faintly. "Okay."
The night deepened around them, and yet none of them moved to leave. They kept talking instead, trading fragments of their lives back and forth long after the plan had already been settled, as though neither side wanted to be the one to break the moment first. The Sword Cliff no longer felt cold to any of them. The air no longer felt sharp against their skin. It felt, improbably, warm.
When they finally did part ways, it was with visible reluctance on all three sides. Yu Lianyan kept glancing back over her shoulder as she walked, her flame-colored hair catching the last of the moonlight, something unspoken still lingering behind her eyes. Yu Lianxue walked more slowly, a trail of frost mist drifting behind her, as though she were trying to memorise the sound of his presence at her back for as long as she possibly could before it faded from earshot entirely.
And Mo Xuan simply remained where he stood, watching until both their silhouettes had finally dissolved into the darkness beyond the cliff.
Moments later, Mo Xuan found himself standing before Han Long, who lay stretched out across a roof beam of the drifting pavilion, drinking lazily as always, entirely unbothered by the late hour.
Before Mo Xuan could explain why he'd come, Han Long spoke first, his eyes still closed.
"You fought well. In the real world... don't be too kind to your enemies."
Mo Xuan looked at him, confused by the sudden, unprompted comment. Han Long offered no further explanation, simply asking, with the same lazy indifference, why his disciple had come at such an hour.
"Master... I'll be going out of the sect for training in three months."
Han Long didn't bother opening his eyes. "Mn."
"...I'll be away for a while."
"Mn."
Just as Mo Xuan drew breath to explain further, a talisman flicked through the air toward him. Han Long hadn't even lifted his head to aim it, and yet it landed perfectly in Mo Xuan's open palm regardless.
"That thing," Han Long drawled, still not looking at him, "may be useful."
Mo Xuan blinked, turning the talisman over once in his hand. "Master—"
A lazy wave of the hand cut him off. "Go, go. Don't disturb my rest."
A faint smile tugged at Mo Xuan's lips despite himself. He bowed deeply, then turned and took his leave. The talisman felt ordinary to the eye, yet strangely warm against his palm the entire walk back.
Once his disciple had gone, Han Long finally opened his eyes, staring up at the night sky with an expression that, for once, carried something close to genuine thoughtfulness. This disciple of mine hasn't seen much of the world yet, he mused. It's good for him to go out. With that settled, he took another sip from his flask and let his eyes drift shut once more.
The next day, the entire Inner Court buzzed with whispers about the fight that had taken place at Sword Cliff the night before. Some disciples doubted the more exaggerated versions of the story outright. Others insisted Mo Xuan was simply too showy for his own good and needed to be taught a lesson in humility. Meanwhile, a quieter but steadily growing number of disciples began openly wondering whether they could challenge him themselves.
Mo Xuan, for his part, returned to his normal routine — spending his days at the Martial Pavilion buried in books, and his nights once again standing alone atop the Sword Cliff.
From then on, the days slipped by almost unnoticed.
His mornings belonged to the Martial Pavilion. His nights belonged to Sword Cliff.
The rhythm settled over him so naturally that even the changing phases of the moon began to blur together.
The sword scar carved into the stone wall glowed faintly beneath the moonlight each evening, Sword Intent seeping steadily out from it in waves sharp enough to sting bare skin and deep enough, if one lingered too long, to cut straight into the soul itself. Mo Xuan drew in a slow breath each time he arrived, settling into the same quiet resolve.
Three months. One goal — to hone his Sword Intent as far as it could go and see whether he could break through into the next stage before the Secret Realm's window ever opened, preparing himself as thoroughly as possible for whatever waited inside it. He sat cross-legged at the cliff's edge, closed his eyes, and began cultivating.
One evening, just as Mo Xuan stepped out of the Martial Pavilion, cupping his hands in farewell to the same elderly keeper he'd met on his very first visit, Jin Bao came jogging up the path toward him, slightly out of breath.
"I knew it — I should've just checked here first."
"Hello," Mo Xuan greeted him.