Morning light embraced Verdant Peak Village, painting the rooftops in a mixture of gold and amber. The air was alive with anticipation and laughter, the streets already bustling with cultivators and villagers preparing for the tournament's official start.
The Heavenly Demonic Sect—now numbering six with the addition of Xiao Fengwu—awoke to the cheerful clamor of the festival, their spirits refreshed by a full night's rest.
Mo Yanluo gathered his disciples and Xiao Fengwu in the courtyard of the Lotus Pavilion Inn. Sunlight danced in their eyes as he took out a handful of small, leather pouches, each heavy with gold coins.
"Today is the day for rest and celebration," he said, his voice calm but warm. "Enjoy the village, try the food, and explore as you wish. Use this as you see fit."
The disciples' faces lit up with delight as they accepted their pouches.
Ming Yue, ever the responsible one, bowed deeply. "Thank you, Master."
Qing Mei could barely contain her excitement, bouncing on her toes. "We'll try everything!"
Yan Ling grinned, her fiery spirit undimmed. "I'm going to find the spiciest food in the village!"
Xue Lan smiled softly, her misty eyes sparkling. "I want to see the flowers I smelled last night."
Ying Tao, the youngest, clutched her pouch tightly, her pink hair catching the sunlight. "Can we buy sweets, too?"
Xiao Fengwu, though new to the group, was moved by the gesture. She accepted her pouch with a quiet nod. "You are too generous, Master Mo."
Mo Yanluo smiled as he handed out the pouches, "You are all part of this family now. Enjoy yourselves."
The group set out together, weaving through the vibrant streets. Verdant Peak Village was a riot of color and sound. Stalls lined the cobbled pathways, selling everything from steaming buns and skewered meats to delicate pastries and exotic fruits. Musicians played lively tunes on flutes and drums, while dancers in flowing robes twirled gracefully beneath strings of lanterns.
Qing Mei dashed from stall to stall, sampling every treat in sight. She returned with a mouthful of candied fruit, her cheeks stuffed like a squirrel's.
"You have to try this!" she exclaimed, offering a stick of glazed tanghulus to her companions.
Yan Ling, true to her word, sought out the spiciest food she could find. She bit into a skewer of fiery chicken, her eyes watering, but she refused to back down.
"It's perfect!" she gasped, frantically fanning her mouth.
Xue Lan wandered among the flower stalls, her gentle fingers brushing petals of various hue and sizes. She selected a small elm bonsai, cradling it carefully in her arms, like a newborn baby.
Ying Tao found a stall selling sweet rice cakes shaped like animals. She bought a tray to share, her laughter ringing as she handed them out.
Ming Yue, kept a careful eye on her siblings, but even she couldn't resist the temptations of the festive atmosphere. She purchased a small, intricately carved silver bracelet that had caught her eye.
Xiao Fengwu, though reserved, found herself drawn into the merriment. She sampled dishes from various food stalls, even purchased several handicrafts as souvenirs. Her laughter, though rare, was warm and genuine.
As the day wore on, Mo Yanluo pulled each disciple aside in turn, presenting them with a special gift—a token of his affection and pride.
To Ming Yue, he gave a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon, its surface etched with swirling clouds.
"For your wisdom and leadership," he said as he placed it around her neck.
To Yan Ling, he offered a pair of earrings in the shape of flames, with small rubies embedded in them.
"For your fiery passion and courage."
To Xue Lan, he handed a blue jade hairpin in the shape of a snowflake, its surface cool and smooth.
"For your gentle heart and keen senses."
To Qing Mei, he presented a jade bracelet, with thin streaks of gold along its curvature.
"For your joy and boundless energy."
To Ying Tao, he gave a small, pink crystal cherry blossom shaped pendant on a thin silver chain.
"For your kindness and innocence."
Each disciple accepted their gift with tears in their eyes, their affection for their master deepening with every word.
Xiao Fengwu watched the exchanges with quiet admiration. Mo Yanluo turned to her, holding out a slender golden hairpin shaped like a phoenix.
"For your rebirth as a member of the Heavenly Demon Sect," he said. "Welcome to our family."
Xiao Fengwu bowed deeply, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Master. I will treasure it forever."
They all wore their respective gifts that seemed to amplify their beauty, gratitude and happiness written all over their faces.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the village, Mo Yanluo quietly stepped away from the group. He placed a hand on Ming Yue's shoulder.
"I'm leaving for a while. You are in charge while I am gone. Look after your siblings."
Ming Yue nodded, her eyes serious. "I will, Master."
Mo Yanluo disappeared into the crowd, his figure soon lost among the festival's throng.
Unbeknownst to him, Ming Yue exchanged a glance with the others.
"Let's follow him," she whispered. "Just to make sure he's safe."
The group agreed, their curiosity and concern outweighing their master's instructions. They slipped through the village, keeping a respectful distance as Mo Yanluo made his way to a deserted path that led away from the festivities.
Mo Yanluo walked alone, a large flask of the finest alcohol held firmly in his right hand. The path wound through fields of wildflowers and past the ruins of an ancient sect, its broken walls and crumbling pillars standing as silent witnesses to the passage of time.
Past the ancient ruins, he climbed a gentle hill, the overgrown grass crunching beneath his feet. At the summit stood a single, ancient tree, its gnarled branches reaching toward the sky. Besides, it lay a nameless tombstone, weathered by years of wind and rain. A rusted sword was thrust into the earth before the grave, its blade dull but still proud.
Mo Yanluo knelt beside the grave, his expression unreadable. He uncorked the flask and poured the clear, fragrant liquor onto the earth, the scent of aged rice wine mingling with the evening air.
"Master," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Your foolish disciple has returned."
He sat next to the grave, his eyes fixed on the tombstone.
"I have walked a long and tiring road since you left me. I have experienced many betrayals and losses, victories and defeats. I have carried your teachings with me, even when I strayed from the right path."
He sighed, the weight of his memories pressing on his heart.
"I was just a boy when you found me, alone and afraid. You took me in, taught me not only the sword, but how to live with honor and compassion. You were more than a master—you were like my father."
Mo Yanluo's voice trembled, his fingers tracing the edge of the tombstone.
"I failed you, Master Tian Xiang. I let ambition and pride blind me. I trusted those who did not deserve it, and in the end, I lost everything. But fate has given me a second chance. I have vowed to do better, to right my wrongs, to eradicate evil."
He poured more alcohol onto the grave, the liquid soaking into the earth.
"I will protect those who are dear to me. I will honor your memory with every step I take on my new path. And I will not repeat the same mistakes again."
Mo Yanluo's shoulders trembled with silent grief.
"I miss you, Master. Every day. I wish you were here to see what I have become—what I am striving to become."
He sat in silence, the wind rustling the leaves of the ancient tree. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if in reverence for the moment. He stared blankly at the ruins beneath the hill and back at the tombstone, his eyes clouded with sorrow and regret.
Unseen by Mo Yanluo, his disciples and Xiao Fengwu had followed him to the hill. They watched from a distance, their hearts aching at the sight of their master's grief. Although his words were muffled, they could feel the sorrow in his voice. They had never seen such a side to their master, despite the many years they spent with him.
Ming Yue wiped tears from her eyes. "We should go," she whispered. "He needs this time alone."
The others nodded, their admiration and affection for Mo Yanluo deepening. They slipped away as quietly as they had come, leaving their master to his memories.
As they returned to the village, the lanterns glowed brighter, casting a warm light on their path. The festival continued, but their hearts were full of new understanding—of their master's pain, his strength, and his unwavering love for those he called family.