Chapter Twenty-Three: The Ink Cloud

Li Sibai soon returned to the sect. Everything was as orderly as ever, with the same tranquil bustle as always. He first went to the main hall to hand in the Yellow-grade Stinger Bees he had hunted in the Dark Forest, receiving some rewards for completing the Yellow-grade extermination mission. He had previously asked Caiyao if she wanted to eat the bees, but she’d wrinkled her nose and said she had no interest in them, claiming that nothing could compare to Chef Cai’s braised pork. Sibai could only laugh in exasperation—her reasoning was sound enough. After handing over the task, he hurried off in search of Uncle Cai.

As soon as he entered, he saw Uncle Cai sitting there. Sibai called out, “Uncle Cai, I’m back.” To his surprise, Uncle Cai, who hadn’t seen him return the previous day, seemed entirely unconcerned. He simply gestured to the person seated opposite and said, “Xiaobai, look who’s here.”

Only then did Sibai notice that someone else was sitting nearby—a boy of about fourteen or fifteen, dressed in the sapphire blue robes of the Xuantian Sword Sect, with a golden thunder-patterned belt at his waist. His eyes were clear and profound, his frame strong and sturdy, giving off an air of distinction and pride. Sibai’s eyes widened in delight. Wasn’t this his dearest friend, Mo Yun?

“Mo Yun, you’re back!” Sibai dashed forward, wrapped his arms around Mo Yun, and hugged him tightly, tears glimmering in his eyes. “It’s been so many years. Where have you been? You’re finally willing to come back!” Though there was a note of complaint in his tone, it was mostly concern.

Mo Yun, too, was visibly moved. He hugged Sibai hard. “Xiaobai, you’ve grown taller and stronger since I last saw you. Did you miss me?”

Sibai nodded vigorously. “You’ve been gone three years. I’m just glad you’ve come back safely.”

Mo Yun nodded, his expression a little hesitant, and spoke in a low voice: “For the past three years, I’ve been carrying out a mission for my master, traveling the world and searching for traces of demonic activity. I thought it would be a quick task, but fate had other plans. One twist after another, and three years slipped by. Every day I thought of you and Uncle Cai, hoping to return to the sect. But I dared not disobey my master and leave before the task was done.”

“Mo Yun, can I ask what kind of mission you were sent to complete?” Sibai gazed at him with curious, eager eyes.

Before Mo Yun could reply, Uncle Cai interjected, “Xiaobai, Mo Yun’s work is secret. In time, when you’re older, you’ll be told about it. For now, don’t ask about things you’re not supposed to know.”

Mo Yun nodded in agreement. “Xiaobai, don’t worry about that for now. Tell me—what interesting things have happened to you these past few years?”

With that, the two boys sat side by side on the chairs nearby, hands clasped, as if they could never run out of things to say. Uncle Cai left them to their conversation and went about his own business.

A little later, Uncle Cai returned carrying a few plates of side dishes and a jug of aged wine. “Come, let’s eat and talk.”

Mo Yun was two years older than Sibai. He, too, was an orphan, found as a child by the current sect leader, Master Yunfeng, while traveling the lands. Master Yunfeng saw his unusual bone structure and recognized his potential, so he brought him back to the sect at the age of four and entrusted his care to Uncle Cai. From then on, he and Sibai grew up together, as close as brothers—if not by blood, then by affection. They played, studied, and trained together, sharing all their thoughts and dreams.

When Mo Yun began his cultivation at six, he did not immediately display the prodigious talent Master Yunfeng had sensed. Compared to Sibai, who was hailed as a youthful prodigy, Mo Yun’s progress was much slower. Yet he was steadfast and upright, genuinely happy for his younger brother’s successes, and constantly pushed himself to work harder, taking Sibai as his goal and never allowing himself to slacken.

After three years, Mo Yun broke through to the first level of the Heart of the Zither realm, entering the inner sect and becoming a formal disciple under Master Yunfeng. By then, Sibai had fallen from celebrated prodigy to the sect’s “hopeless youth.” When everyone else abandoned hope for Sibai, Mo Yun remained by his side, encouraging and supporting him, taking him to the Scripture Pavilion to read, searching for books and methods, and tirelessly experimenting to help him break through to the third level of the Phoenix Initiate realm. But by the time Mo Yun left, their efforts had still not succeeded.

Under Master Yunfeng’s guidance, Mo Yun’s progress accelerated dramatically after only a year, proving his master’s keen judgment. While most cultivators slowed down as their training advanced, Mo Yun only grew faster. In a single year, he reached the third level of the Heart of the Zither realm. Though he could not yet soar on his sword among the clouds, he could already wield magical treasures with skill. Master Yunfeng entrusted him with the Seven Star Sword, one of the sect’s ten famous blades—a sword of honesty and virtue, said to have been forged by the legendary swordsmiths Ou Yezi and Gan Jiang, who carved open Mount Ci, released the mountain stream, and channeled the waters into seven pools beside the forge, forming the pattern of the Big Dipper—thus the sword was named “Seven Stars.” It was later obtained by the sect’s founder, Master Yuxu, and passed down through the generations.

Mo Yun was overjoyed to receive this sword, but before he could even show it to Sibai, he was summoned to leave the mountain at once. The mission was so urgent he had no chance to say goodbye.

At first, a senior disciple accompanied him, but after that disciple was injured and sent back, Mo Yun was left alone to complete the mission. Communication was limited to letters, and only a few select elders in the sect knew what he was doing. Uncle Cai and Sibai were told only that he had gone away for training. Who could have guessed that three years would pass in the blink of an eye.

During those three years, without Mo Yun’s encouragement and guidance, Sibai grew increasingly uncertain about his own cultivation. Only after waking from nightmares and remembering his goal—to enter the inner sect and seek news of his parents—would his determination flare anew. Thus, three years passed with little progress, until the recent string of strange encounters.

Sibai gave a brief account of his situation, though he left out the part about Caiyao and the ancient tree spirit, as he had promised to keep their secret.

Mo Yun nodded, looking at Sibai with approval. “Xiaobai, you say you’ve reached the fifth level of the Phoenix Initiate realm? Come, let’s spar a bit and let me see how strong you really are now.”

Eager to show off for his elder brother, Sibai agreed, and the two of them made their way out into the courtyard, ready for a friendly contest.