The Hidden Sect

In his dream, Yuan Xuelan's hand had gone numb clutching a sword that buzzed and burned in his grips. He was shaking, an unspeakable emotion welling within. But Yuan Xuelan couldn't understand the scene born out of the depth of his imagination.

Just what was this place?

Among the pile of corpses, he spotted a figure in the distance. A man, hunched, leaned against a spear that skewered a soldier, a demon? at his feet. His armor was dyed in grime and blood, as was his face, his hair, his sword, and his hands. He did not look like a cultivator, and instead, had the appearance of a general, a man of war. Yuan Xuelan quickened his pace. He wanted to yell for this soldier to look at him and ask if he was okay.

But the Yuan Xuelan in his dreams had other ideas.

He reached for that veil of hair and yanked it back, forcing Liu Sumeng to stumble, to gasp. The Ivory Sword Saint's blade clattered on the ground. This terrible Yuan Xuelan was full of fury and had an uncontrollable storm for a heart. He shouted, "You fucking worthless piece of shit!" and threw Liu Sumeng to the ground.

Liu Sumeng, ever infuriating, said nothing and did nothing, only kneeling there with his head lowered and loose hair fallen in front of his face. "I fucking hate you!" he repeated, voice scraping against his throat as he kicked Liu Sumeng down. Then kicked him again and again.

Liu Sumeng coughed, wet, and croaked as he grasped at Yuan Xuelan's boots, "Stop. Xuelan." His face, tired and weak, could barely lift off the filthy ground. Mud stuck to his cheek along with blood. There were dark circles under his eyes, red.

Yuan Xuelan thought he was going to be sick, but the him in his dreams did not care. This Xuelan, older, bigger and even more angry and wild than he would ever imagine himself, knelt down next to Liu Sumeng. With a fistful of hair, he dragged the Ivory Sword Saint up. His eyes traced the lines of clenched teeth and furrowed brows and the tears that Liu Sumeng refused to let fall.

"Stop? Stop what? I thought you were a masochist. So fast to rush forth to your demise. So eager to part with me," he seethed, spitting on Liu Sumeng's face. "Worthless."

When he let go, Liu Sumeng fell like a puppet with strings cut, body thudding on the ground. The older Yuan Xuelan sneered, while the younger, who was but a ghostly specter forced to watch, wanted nothing but for this dream to end. Heavens! Why won't it end!?

Yuan Xuelan rose to his feet and spat as if the one beneath him was nothing but a pile of trash. He turned around, marching away in brisk steps, only to stop when he realized that no one was following. He looked over his shoulder, Liu Sumeng's body was still slumped upon the ground.

"Get up, fool."

It took a moment before Liu Sumeng heaved himself up on shaking limbs, his breath ragged just from standing. He stumbled and didn't even pick up his sword as he stepped forth. The wounds on his shoulder, his thigh, and his stomach were looking ugly; red soaking through his clothes and coated his armor. Beneath a layer of dirt and dried blood, his face was pale. Liu Sumeng tripped and fell, coughed, and stood again. He waddled like a dog, dying and desperate.

And only when he stood before Yuan Xuelan he faltered, eyes sunken and lips gray. "Xuelan," a scratchy voice broke through, as though a prayer.

He was like a corpse and Yuan Xuelan hated looking at him, "Ugly," he hissed. But still held his arms out to support Liu Sumeng when he swayed. "I hate you," he said again, softer.

Liu Sumeng had lost too much blood and did not look like he was going to stay conscious for much longer. He was no better than a man at death's door. And when he fell against Yuan Xuelan's body, Yuan Xuelan whispered against his ear, "I hate seeing you like this." A sigh.

When he looked at Liu Sumeng, who had eyes closed with shallow breaths, he was overcome with an overwhelming urge to destroy him, to embrace him, to spoil him, to insult him, to possess him.

He called, "Sumeng."

His Sumeng didn't answer, even when he wrapped his arms around him, gentle.

"Sumeng…?"

And he felt childish, not sane.

In the morning, Liu Sumeng felt a little sweaty with his arms wrapped around something that radiated too much heat. But he was comfortable and cuddled with it more, squeezing like he would a cute cat or dog. The cat or dog grumbled in protest and elbowed him in the gut, which didn't hurt nearly as much as his injured back scraping against the wall.

He winced and opened his eyes, squinting against the stray rays of light that knifed into the cabin. A scowling visage greeted him, so close that Liu Sumeng could feel Yuan Xuelan's breath on his face.

"Hello," he said stupidly.

At first, Yuan Xuelan said nothing and only stayed there, frozen and tense in Liu Sumeng's arms. Then he shoved Liu Sumeng away, his back hit the wall with a thud, a light hiss escaped his teeth.

"Let's not waste time," Yuan Xuelan said as he rose to his feet.

There was a softness to his voice that was almost misplaced and Liu Sumeng gulped, reminded of a young man who stared off into space with wandering thoughts and emotions that swayed like a turbulent sea.

Yuan Xuelan was quick to go outside, while Liu Sumeng took an extra moment to fix his hair and creases in his clothes. The air was no longer biting, but still cold. A blanket of snow was thick on the ground, hugging their feet with every step.

"Sorry," was the first thing that came out of the Ivory Sword Saint's mouth when he stepped out of the cabin.

The younger cultivator's mood was oddly tense, he scowled and wouldn't meet Liu Sumeng's eyes, "Can you stop that already? I don't want to hear sorry from you anymore."

But what else could he say, "I…"

"No, it's fine. No more sorry's from you, Sumeng." Even the way he spoke, the calmness and form of address, were reminiscent of an older Xuelan.

Yet, when Yuan Xuelan looked up there was that boyish pout and wide innocent eyes. Liu Sumeng let out a sigh of relief as he nodded obediently, "Okay."

"You say that now, but I know you'll forget about it soon later."

"I promise."

Yuan Xuelan didn't believe him. "Yeah, whatever."

"Trust me."

"..."

"Please?"

He only got the barest of nods before they took to the air. Liu Sumeng didn't want it to be awkward between them but Yuan Xuelan was reluctant to talk, so he had no choice but to wallow in silence until they reached the Hidden Mist Manor in the late afternoon.

The Hidden Mist, true to its name, was indeed hidden. Tucked away in the midst of a dense, spiritual energy-rich forest with layers upon layers of concealment barriers, the Hidden Mist Manor remained mysterious. The entrance was even behind a waterfall. Liu Sumeng had never stepped foot inside in this life and had only encountered the current sect leader, Peng Zhugen outside the confines of Hidden Mist territory.

Luckily, Yuan Xuelan was more than familiar with the ins and outs of the Hidden Mist, and led Liu Sumeng through a labyrinth of barriers and to the lustrous veil of running water that crashed into a crystal pool. The surrounding thicket and canopy were packed so dense that the only way in was to follow the running water, filled with mystical beasts. Even in the chill of winter, the river flowed, unperturbed by the cold. The branches, stripped of its foliage were like twisting barbs, blanketed with a sheet of sparkling white snow.

The wind hummed to their arrival with the sound of a rushing waterfall. A silver fishtail, as tall as Liu Sumeng, poked out of the river before disappearing. But none of these details hinted that a bustling sect manor was nearby.

Yuan Xuelan led him down a cliffside, hopping onto a tiny path that could easily be mistaken as part of the natural formation of stone. Freshwater sprayed them, chilled from winter. It smelt of wild mint, light and cold. Yuan Xuelan stopped by a rocky wall before taking out a wooden pass and performed a set of hand seals. Liu Sumeng could feel a wave of spiritual energy dispersing.

"Let's go," he shouted past the roar of the waterfall before stepping past the illusion. A wide cavern opened up, its rocky walls curling around the Hidden Mist Manor like a protective cocoon. Spirit lights danced in the air, glowing blue and yellow, keeping the darkness at bay.

With the sound of rushing water behind them, they made their way in.

A young man waved at them from the entrance, dressed in silver and purple. His smile was boyish but there was darkness under his eyes. "A-Zhang!" he called, a soft voice straining to be loud.

"Hey," Yuan Xuelan grinned and pulled the other boy into a brotherly embrace. Peng Jipei was a year older than Yuan Xuelan but it was hard to tell with his short stature and delicate frame. Even if he dressed as a girl, no one would be able to tell the difference for Peng Jipei had wide double-lidded eyes with fanning lashes. His lips were small but full and always bore a rosy tinge and his skin was flawless porcelain, smooth enough to make the fairest of maidens jealous. "You better be taking care of yourself. Why haven't you grown?" Yuan Xuelan laughed, nudging Peng Jipei in the side.

The smaller boy grinned back and retaliated with a shove, "I'm fine the way I am, don't you think?" He ran his fingers through silky hair with not a single tangle. "I'm still as pretty as always."

Yuan Xuelan rolled his eyes but his mood was bright and he was used to Peng Jipei's antics, "Well, your looks are fine, if only you'd be a little taller."

Peng Jipei lifted his chin and dismissively waved his hands, "If I were to be any taller girls would be falling at my feet. How do you think I could deal with them? At least with men, I could just call them shameless and disgusting."

Liu Sumeng never met Peng Jipei before he had fallen into madness and despair, but he decided that he didn't like the sane version of the man either. The Ivory Sword Saint wasn't entirely sure how Yuan Xuelan was able to so easily get along with him, but perhaps Liu Sumeng was biased. For his memories of Peng Jipei was one tainted with loathing, pity, and hatred. Even now, seeing his youthful smiling face, Liu Sumeng felt annoyance and distrust. He did his best to hold those feelings back.

"I think you're the one that's shameless, Peng-ge!" Yuan Xuelan teased, purposely leaning in a way that showed off his superior height. Peng Jipei grumbled and backed away from Yuan Xuelan's towering figure. It was only then he took notice of the silent and vigilent Liu Sumeng.

"Who's this?"

Attention shifted towards Liu Sumeng, "Oh, this is the Ivory Sword Saint from the Heavenly Sword Sect, I'm sure you heard of him," Yuan Xuelan introduced, "He's kind of…well. Just don't bully him too much, ok?"

Peng Jipei bowed, "Oh yes, who hasn't? And only good things too: the Ivory Sword Saint who is peerless with the sword and as handsome as the sun is to a waxing moon. With you around, who would dare to challenge the might of Heavenly Sword Sect's future generation? How envious."

Liu Sumeng almost bit his tongue from the amount of pointless flattery but still, he bowed with respect, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Peng Jipei grinned, "Surely, you've heard a lot about me too?"

He most certainly had. But who would want to ramble on about a man's peerless beauty? It neither felt appropriate nor becoming. And Peng Jipei, who prodded and fished for compliments, was not cute either. Liu Sumeng remained silent, annoyed.

Yuan Xuelan stepped in before his cousin could open his mouth again, "Anyway, let's go greet your big brother first so we can do other things, like grabbing some dinner. I'm pretty starved."

"What? Oh! Wait, wait no," Peng Jipei protested a little too fervently, "Let's not! He's busy right now. Let's go see my mother, how's that? She misses you, A-Zhang." Peng Jipei shuffled his feet, his smile turned strained at the mention of his mother.

Yuan Xuelan pulled his lips tight but nodded, "Right, okay, let's go see Auntie."

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