Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

Mo Yixuan had to give pause. Even his poor social skills could tell that the stranger disliked him from his tone alone. Well, stranger to him at least. Who knew what the original Mo Yixuan had done.

“You,” he began, but didn’t get further than that before the man broke out into a harsh bark of laughter.

“It gets better and better, doesn’t it?” he mocked. “From ‘senior brother’ to ‘Peak Lord Jun,’ and now down to simple pronouns? Aren’t you so clever with your tongue, Mo Yixuan.”

...I only said one word, Mo Yixuan privately protested. He decided to forget it and simply move on, but the man raised an arm to block him. Mo Yixuan raised his eyebrows, but the man just laughed again.

“We’re not done yet, junior brother. Humor me and stay a while.”

Mo Yixuan only looked at him in exasperation. “You’ve called me three different things in the last five minutes.”

“What of it?” Peak Lord Jun said defiantly.

“So shouldn’t I be praising your ‘clever tongue’ too?” Mo Yixuan deadpanned. 

“You—!”

In the middle of the man’s protest, Mo Yixuan seized the chance to slip away. The figure in the wheelchair didn’t stop him, but something else did—an invisible wall that Mo Yixuan flew into headfirst a few feet away.

THUD!

Mo Yixuan was knocked backwards; fortunately, his instincts reacted in time to send him floating gently to the ground. He frowned, then took a few steps forward to feel with his fingers. Whatever made up the wall was almost intangible, firm with a hint of softness—the closest material Mo Yixuan could think of was memory foam, but that was ridiculous in this kind of setting.

“To think you’d run straight into my barrier!” Peak Lord Jun crowed as he turned to face his victim. “Have the last fifty years turned you senile? Mo Yixuan, you—” he cut off abruptly when he saw the other diligently poking at the air. “Pay attention when I’m talking!”

Mo Yixuan didn’t bother turning around. “What’s this?” 

The barrier wall he was touching had pliability and strength. He suddenly recalled the folktale he heard once about a man who asked to build a house on the clouds. The man had been laughed at by everyone, but using this invisible thing as construction material could make that request a reality…and that was where his thoughts stopped as he realized they were wandering.

Peak Lord Jun seethed. “Don’t disparage the abilities of my Heavenly Sealing Pagoda!” His robes shook as he spoke, shedding light on a tiny object in his palm. Mo Yixuan cast a glance on it and saw that it was, indeed, a tiny golden pagoda. It was also resting on the back of a golden turtle to match.

Who do you think you are, Li Jing? 

The legend of the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li was a well-known character of Chinese mythology, but he never expected to see someone copying his skills here. To curb his son Nezha, Li Jing was given a golden pagoda with the power to capture any spirit, demon, or god within its walls. As Mo Yixuan was trapped but still partly human, he guessed that Peak Lord Jun’s version had different properties.

“So we’re in your pagoda right now,” he remarked, looking up for any hints of tiled roofs or other architectural details. Unfortunately, he only saw the sky.

“You should know that this treasure is on par with the likes of your trio,” Peak Lord Jun said unhappily. “At least it did far more stopping our enemies in battles than your fighting ever did!”

“Well,” Mo Yixuan nodded absently. “It’s cute, I guess.” Like one of those collectible toys.

“Enough!” the other man snapped, his face turning red. “We’re settling our debt today!”

What did I even do? Mo Yixuan sighed internally as Peak Lord Jun actually pulled out a sword. Then his brain caught up with him.

Wait…

A martial brother with a grudge against me...the five original disciples of Star Pavilion Sect’s founder…

Ouyang Che’s warning about his third senior brother whom the original Mo Yixuan ruined was called—

“Jun Zhen?” Mo Yixuan blurted out.

Peak Lord Jun Zhen (君貞) looked at him like he was an idiot, cementing his guess. 

Mo Yixuan’s eyebrows creased as his eyes shifted downwards. Then, his legs…

He didn’t get to stare long before a slash came hurtling towards him. Mo Yixuan instinctively dodged, but ran into a dead end when the invisible wall impeded his movements. The sharp sword qi left a tear in the fabric of his sleeves. He glanced at the cut, but only for a second—Jun Zhen’s next strikes were hot on his heels, forcing him to spin out of the way as a flurry of stabs pierced the wall behind him.

Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk!

The last stab sliced off a few strands of his hair, forcing Mo Yixuan to take to the air. He saw Jun Zhen alone on his wheelchair while the youth in white who pushed him here was nowhere to be found. The next second, Peak Lord Jun’s eyes narrowed as he barked out a command.

“Compress!” 

The pagoda in his hand shone as a heavy weight slammed into Mo Yixuan’s nape and shoulders, sending him hurtling down to earth. The “ceiling” of the pagoda had been lowered with one order! Mo Yixuan extended an arm and aimed a strike towards the ground to counterattack, but Jun Zhen easily wheeled out of range. When Mo Yixuan landed, he tried to chase after the man but ran into another invisible wall.

A few feet away, he saw Jun Zhen sneering at him, the youth in white standing quietly nearby. It was obvious that the confines of the pagoda had no effect on either figure. Mo Yixuan’s brows creased even as Jun Zhen snapped out the same command again.

“Compress!”

The little pagoda flashed once more, leaving Jun Zhen looking rather strained. Instantly, the invisible walls closed in on Mo Yixuan, making him unable to budge an inch. His arms tensed as he pushed against them, but the barrier held firm.

“Compress! Compress! Compress!”

With each successive shout, the walls around him squeezed in. Finally, Mo Yixuan was forced to his knees as the unseen ceiling pressed mercilessly down against his back.

What the hell.

Veins bulged in Mo Yixuan’s forehead as he resisted the weight of the pagoda out of sheer will. He couldn’t even lift his head when he saw the wheels of Jun Zhen’s chair roll back into view.

“Is this it?” a faint voice muttered above him.

Mo Yixuan didn’t react. Instead, he rested the edges of his fingers ever so imperceptibly on the ground, their tips touching the formless wall.

“I expected more from you, junior brother.”

Divine artifacts like the Heavenly Sealing Pagoda came in two categories. One was self-sustaining and possessed wills of their own—like rare treasure swords and other sentient weapons. Others were dependent on the owner to awaken and activate their abilities, acting like a channeling tool. Judging from Jun Zhen’s commands and tired expression, his pagoda belonged to the latter.

“If I had the skills, I’d cut off your arms and legs right here,” Jun Zhe went on bitterly. “But I lack the strength to injure your True Body. Still...crushing you now isn’t beyond my capabilities.”

The walls around Mo Yixuan began to pulse. He could sense Jun Zhen’s qi signature flowing through the structure as fine tendrils, guiding the pagoda and shaping its form. Quietly, he released a tiny thread of his own qi to mix with the lot.

“I don’t believe you have the power to resist a Divine Artifact yet. If I pulverize a few limbs to bits, it won’t end your life. They’ve done worse to junior disciples at the inter-faction competitions. Eldest senior brother—our sect leader—won’t fault me for this. He can’t punish me for it when he’s never punished you!”

The tendrils of Jun Zhen’s qi began to thrash wildly in the walls in response to his emotions. Mo Yixuan quickly took advantage of his state to channel in more qi of his own.

“I’ll break you apart with my own hands!” Jun Zhen screamed, even as Mo Yixuan’s power raced to overtake him. “Compress!”

With a shudder, the walls seized and shrank down—at the same time Mo Yixuan resisted with all his qi. The two forces clashed within the invisible walls and shuddered violently. Even as the pagoda tried to crush him, Mo Yixuan’s qi resisted and stood firm against the force. There was no way that his tiny, last minute efforts could overpower the Heavenly Sealing Pagoda, but he didn’t need to try.

All he needed was to interrupt the process of Jun Zhen feeding more power into the projection.

CrrrRRRRAAAAaaacCCK!

A silvery crack appeared in a wall by Mo Yixuan’s left. Without hesitation, he pressed his palm against the opening and flooded it with his spirituality. Unable to take the sudden imbalance of qi, the wall splintered further before breaking apart beneath his hands. The effects spread to the rest of the pagoda, causing it to tremble once again before splitting apart with a terrific shriek.

In his wheelchair, Jun Zhen spasmed from the backlash and spat up a mouthful of blood. The white-robed youth immediately rushed to his side with a cry. 

“Master!”

“Leave it!” Jun Zhen snapped and knocked him aside, glaring daggers at Mo Yixuan. “Pulling off a trick like that—so you did improve after all.”

Mo Yixuan was silent as he massaged his neck. It was sore from being pressed down from above.

Seeing this, Jun Zhen gave a wet laugh and fell back in his seat. “Next time,” he murmured softly, “Next time for sure, I’ll crush you…” He fell into unintelligible mutters as he cradled the pagoda in his hands, head bowed as he seemed to shrink into himself.

This...

Mo Yixuan waited a while longer, his nerves on edge. When no new attacks or insults were forthcoming, he exhaled softly and directed his gaze at the stricken youth by Jun Zhen’s side.

“You,” he began stiffly, not knowing his name.

The boy gave a start before looking up. He was only about sixteen or seventeen, with a pair of large, bright eyes and what looked like a permanently stiff upper lip.

“Is your master going to be alright?” Mo Yixuan asked. Jun Zhen was ignoring them both to play with the Divine Artifact between his fingers. Occasionally, he’d even mumble something, or sob and laugh to himself. It was a highly unsettling sight.

“My master…” the young disciple echoed blankly. A flash of bitterness flickered past his eyes, almost too quickly to catch, before he faced Mo Yixuan with a mechanical bow. “I am sorry, Peak Lord Mo, but my master is feeling unwell. He’s overdue for his treatment with the sect leader, so we’ll be heading there now.”

Mo Yixuan wasn’t about to let him go just like that. He stepped forward to block the way, causing the disciple to look up at him warily. Ignoring the boy, Mo Yixuan slowly bent down until he was eye level with Jun Zhen.

The Peak Lord continued to remain oblivious. By now, he’d found the hanging jade pendant from his belt and was fixated with tying a bow around his beloved pagoda, his eyebrows creased.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mo Yixuan finally asked after a while.

The disciple hadn’t taken his eyes off him as he spoke. “Peak Lord Jun’s been like this ever since his soul was torn in two. Sometimes he returns to his senses, but it’s never for long.”

Soul torn in two… Mo Yixuan shelved that complicated tidbit for later. “But you took him as your master?” he asked next, perplexed. Who would willingly accept an insane man as their teacher?

“...I had no other choice,” the disciple muttered, suddenly looking elsewhere.

Mo Yixuan didn’t probe. Instead, he stepped aside to let the youth push the wheelchair away, his thoughts swirling. Deep down, he felt a twinge of annoyance. Ouyang Che had warned him about Jun Zhen, but he never mentioned the man was insane! It was partly because of Jun Zhen’s roiling emotions and unstable control that Mo Yixuan managed to wrest an advantage in their faceoff with the pagoda in the first place. Otherwise, who knew if he’d be mincemeat by now?

Is there a chance of him attacking me whenever we meet? Mo Yixuan wondered grimly. Just as he thought that—

“Mo Yixuan, you’ll regret this. I won’t forgive you as long as I live!”

Mo Yixuan turned around. The disciple had stopped pushing the wheelchair as Jun Zhen clutched the armrests, snarling at empty space before him. He might have been speaking to a hallucination, or to the memory of the past—it was impossible to tell.

The disciple hesitated and wanted to speak, but Mo Yixuan raised a hand to silence him. He walked to the front of the wheelchair and leaned down, locking gazes with Jun Zhen again.

“What will I regret?” he asked simply.

The disciple sucked in a breath and Jun Zhen clearly paused. His eyes struggled to focus on Mo Yixuan before the pupils suddenly dilated and narrowed into slits. Two arms suddenly rushed for Mo Yixuan’s neck as Jun Zhen devolved into a hoarse shout.

“I’ll kill you!”

Mo Yixuan quickly retreated before he was placed into a chokehold. Jun Zhen muttered an oath and grabbed for the Heavenly Sealing Pagoda, only to find it missing from his lap. Mo Yixuan had stolen that while they were locked into their staring contest.

“You…!” the peak lord sputtered, attempting to lift himself from his seat. “That’s mine, give it back!”

“You’re going to hurt someone with this,” Mo Yixuan deadpanned as he held the miniature pagoda up high. 

Jun Zhen devolved into a series of angry shrieks. His disciple looked at Mo Yixuan helplessly. “Peak Lord Mo, I can hold the pagoda in his place…”

“Go to the sect leader’s hall,” Mo Yixuan said instead. “I’ll come along.”

He strode forward as he spoke, walking past the hysterical Jun Zhen and striking him directly on the neck as he passed by. Instantly, the peak lord fell unconscious, restoring peace and quiet to the mountaintop again.

—

In the sect leader’s hall, Fei Chenling had stopped examining Nan Wuyue in response to the strange power fluctuations that he had picked up a moment ago. 

Zhen’er’s having another one of his fits? He wondered, recognizing the familiar qi signature. That’s right, he’s due for treatment soon—or was that today?

Even since Jun Zhen had lost a piece of his soul, his behavior had been erratic and unpredictable. Occasionally he’d devolve into violent outbursts, but they were short-lived and limited to periods approaching his monthly treatment sessions with Fei Chenling.

If it wasn’t for the lack of candidates, I would have found a peak lord to replace him by now, Fei Chenling’s thoughts turned gloomy. In recent months, Jun Zhen’s condition had deteriorated so rapidly that he’d been forced to move to the sect leader’s peak for constant monitoring. Ouyang Che had taken over matters for his martial brothers in the interim, maintaining a united front for the five direct disciples of the sect founder.

With this, it’s still our five peaks to their four, Fei Chenling sighed internally. Despite his dislike for power struggles, the reality remained that the nine peaks of Star Pavilion Sect was firmly divided between two camps: that of the ex-sect leader’s original disciples, and everyone else. 

We can’t show any weaknesses before the inter-sect competition. What’s more, with Xuan’er behaving strangely, I’ll need to keep an eye on him as well…

At the thought of Mo Yixuan, Fei Chenling’s gaze drifted naturally to the young teen that was his disciple. Nan Wuyue was currently sitting motionless in his seat thanks to Fei Chenling sealing his acupoints to halt all movement. 

This brat isn’t making our lives any easier either, the sect leader scowled.

“It’ll be better for all our sakes if you stop causing trouble,” Fei Chenling scolded Nan Wuyue, “I’ve already done a cursory scan of your meridians. They’re recovering now, but they’ve gone through long-term damage in the past. Just what kind of training were you doing? You’ll tear yourself apart at this rate!”

Nan Wuyue didn’t flinch as he glared back. “Exactly what my master told me to.”

“Ridiculous!” Fei Chenling rejected. “You’ve been examined by the sect healers before—they’ve never found injuries within your body!”

Because Mo Yixuan hid everything from them, Nan Wuyue sneered internally. Outwardly he just pursed his lips and stood his ground. “I’m telling the truth.”

Fei Chenling raised a finger at him, then dropped it to shake his head. “We’ll talk about this with your master later,” he said decisively. 

At that moment, Mo Yixuan and the young disciple stepped into the halls with Jun Zhen in tow.