Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

bgm: a clear boat in a turbid world

When the rush of enlightenment faded, Mo Yixuan noticed more changes to his body. His qi and blood were circulating more smoothly while his mind had calmed into a clear pool with no ripples. He suddenly rose to his feet, wanting to take up a sword. But he’d yet to find his own weapon and could only look around for a replacement.

“A moment.” Sensing his restlessness, Shi Feng stood up as well and took something from the inside of his robes: a brush. He channeled qi to its tip and began to draw in the air. Immediately, rich ink poured from the writing utensil and grew into the shape of a long sword. Small, pale golden buds sprouted along its handle and blade before blooming into beautiful flowers whose petals broke away in the wind.

When they were gone, a gleaming blade hovered in its place, its silvery-white surface no different from a real weapon.

“It won’t last, but it should serve your purposes,” Shi Feng said as he nudged the floating blade towards the other man with a gentle push at the air.

Still admiring Shi Feng’s handiwork, it took Mo Yixuan a second to react before he grabbed the weapon. It was certainly lighter than a real sword, but the hum of metal through the air as he swung was as tangible as any edge. His hands tensed around the hilt before he leaped into the air with a graceful flip, the blade echoing his movements.

All of the members of Star Pavilion Sect were trained in the Celestial Sublime Sword Style developed by the late sect founder. It was inspired by the constellations and their rotations across the sky with variations for the seasons that ran through the 28 Lunar Mansions. Mo Yixuan naturally slipped into the first movement as he cut a deadly arc through the air, stirring up a storm of leaves and wind in his wake. With his advancement in the Qi Refining Pool, it was easy enough to stay in the air; this combined with Shi Feng’s painted sword allowed him free reign of the skies like a dancing crane or falling meteor.

He had no time to react, purely following instincts again as his body ran through the familiar forms. Thankfully, his mind was clear enough to imprint their images in his memory as he weaved a tapestry of tactics in the sky. Perhaps this could truly be considered his first foray into the depths of sword cultivation.

Shi Feng rested his hands behind his back and took in the sight with a satisfied smile. Inevitably, another poem rose to his mind:

Heaven and earth itself moved up and down.
Shimmering, like shots of the archer Yi, nine suns were dropping,
Brave and swift, like the team of flying dragons belonging to the Emperors of Heaven.
The drums were coming in thunder claps as the audience held its furious force
Until the end—when the sword became a river and sea congealed in pure light.*

After weaving his way through the seven rooms of the first Lunar Mansion, Mo Yixuan withdrew his sword with a flourish and landed gently on the ground. He felt the weapon in his hand tingle and glanced down to see it dissipating into golden petals. As they scattered in the wind, they left a faint, sweet scent reminiscent of morning dew and musky jasmine.

“Thank you, Senior Shi,” Mo Yixuan cupped his hands in gratitude. His pale face had finally gained some color from the exercise as he panted faintly, while his untied hair fluttered haphazardly around his face. Mo Yixuan had yet to master tying a proper updo with only ribbons in this era, but the sight of his free-flowing locks in the breeze gave a softer, almost boyish air to the usually serious and stern features.

“That was Celestial Sublime’s Dance of the Azure Dragon, I presume?” Shi Feng asked cheerily.

Mo Yixuan thought back and nodded. As the first lunar mansion was presided over by the azure dragon, that sounded about right.

“I remember when Ye Xinglin first debuted in the Middle Realms with such skills,” Shi Feng remarked.
“His acuity and finesse shocked the cultivation world, allowing him to establish dominance and start his own sect.”

Ye Xinglin (夜星嶙) was the name of the late sect leader who had been master of Mo Yixuan and his four martial siblings. Of the five, one was now insane while the other had his soul replaced with a completely different person. Mo Yixuan grew somber at the thought before he realized that Shi Feng was waiting for him to reply. The only thing that came to mind was the remarkable ink sword he’d fought with in the last few minutes and how Shi Feng had conjured it out of mid-air.

“Nice brushwork,” Mo Yixuan complimented. He meant it too, but the words came out a little flat.

Shi Feng laughed out loud. “I’m pleased it was to your liking.” Internally, he was amused. He had brought up Ye Xinglin as genuine praise for Mo Yixuan’s master and the peak lord’s own sword skills, but ended up getting praised in turn instead. 

Mo Yixuan was rather taken aback at Shi Feng’s sudden outburst but nodded in agreement. Well, one couldn’t expect him to reminiscence on a master he’d never met after all. 

“What was that sword?” he asked. When he had been fighting with Shi Feng’s creation, it had cut and sliced just like a real weapon.

“It was an amalgamation of my qi,” Shi Feng replied. “For a while I’ve set the sword aside for the brush. You see the lengths I’ve gone to for self-amusement after all these years in seclusion.”

“Impressive,” Mo Yixuan breathed. Weaponizing qi was a basic skill for any cultivator, but to refine it into such a fine point and into the perfect physical replica of a blade had to take enormous reserves and skill. After all, he had even channeled his own qi into the sword while he fought, yet its form had held strong until he finished. The most Mo Yixuan had managed with qi manipulation was cleaning up broken porcelain and levitating a few lunch dishes, but he wondered if he could master something similar in the future one day.

His docile reaction nearly sent Shi Feng into another fit of mirth, but he calmed himself and picked up the skeleton flowers he’d rested in a small vase on the tea table. As Mo Yixuan watched, the half-immortal took up blossoms in one hand and brush in the other to paint anew. Soft golden light effused the flowers before their stems merged into a single branch. It extended into a slender, flat stick that ended in a rounded point—a hairstick. 

“Here,” he offered it to Mo Yixuan, who looked at him blankly.

“What is this for?” Mo Yixuan asked.

“Your hair,” Shi Feng tutted. “Although your moves were as graceful as a swallow, they’ve also left your head as its tangled nest.” 

Mo Yixuan had lived with short hair for most of his life and was now at a loss. As he touched his head helplessly, Shi Feng’s last ounce of willpower evaporated and he went for a full frontal assault. “Please, let this senior help you.”

Before Mo Yixuan could react, the half-immortal had circled behind him and attacked his hair in earnest. His skillful fingers made short work of the tangles in the long dark strands, smoothing them out and winding half up in an elegant knot behind Mo Yixuan’s head to be secured with the hairstick.

An aesthete would always be an aesthete.

“Better,” Shi Feng beamed as he stepped away. “No wait—don’t undo my hard work!” He caught Mo Yixuan’s hands as the latter started touching his hair and the hairstick in confused curiosity.

Mo Yixuan didn’t reject the skin contact, but turned to glance at him curiously. “Won’t it just disappear after a while?”

“This one will last,” Shi Feng explained. “The ink sword was made of pure qi, but I weaved my qi with the skeleton flowers to stabilize their form. You can keep it in without cares.”

The peak lord’s expression abruptly soured. “Only women wear flowers.”

“Well then, you just have to wet these to make them invisible,” Shi Feng chimed in cheekily. Before Mo Yixuan could protest again, he turned serious. “It’ll act as a good conduit for your cultivation during meditation. Although our paths of Dao differ, there are enough similarities for them to complement each other. Of course, if Junior Mo prefers another plant, I can certainly look for an alternative.”

For a man, it seemed pointless to make so much fuss over a simple hairstick. Besides, Mo Yixuan spent most of his time in his rooms or around Mt. Jingting. It wasn’t as if crowds of people would be oogling his hair day after day. Instead, he dropped the subject and moved onto the matter at hand. 

“Why are our Daos so similar?” he asked instead.

“The paths are many, but there is only one Way,” Shi Feng’s reply was enigmatic. “We may stand by different principles, but our paths all lead to the same destination. You and I are complementary opposites—I of All-Encompassing, you of All-Nothingness.”

Mo Yixuan could feel his head spinning from the words already. “All of what?”

“All-Encompassing implies harmony with all and conflict with none,” Shi Feng expounded. “That is the nature of my Way. All-Nothingness implies disinterest with all and solace in none—not “nothing,” but the absence of something, which itself implies an existence of its own.”

Mo Yixuan’s dizziness got worse. Taking pity on his furrowed brows, Shi Feng handed him another cup of tea. “These matters will clear up in time,” he reassured him. “If you choose to continue cultivation on this path, I shall guide you. If not, our time here can simply be a memento for your memories.”

From his words Mo Yixuan elicited an echo of his All-Encompassing Dao taking form. There was no intent or persuasion behind Shi Feng’s speech, merely an open acceptance of anything that came his way. Perhaps more telling than his personality was the serenity he exuded, his every thought and action infused with inner peace.

Even in the depths of his numbing apathy, Mo Yixuan yearned for the same thing.

“I do.”

“Very well,” Shi Feng didn’t miss a beat. “Then we shall meet again.” He cast an eye to the left, where the overhanging cliffs of Jadecloud Peak abruptly ended in open air. “When Junior Mo is ready, we can think about heading back to Mt. Jingting.”

“Mm,” Mo Yixuan suppressed a sigh. Troublesome as it sounded, he’d left too many details unfinished below him.

“Amidst conflicts and strife, temper your Dao heart,” Shi Feng advised simply. “True cultivation is done best in the presence of other company.”

“My stay these four days…” Mo Yixuan began, but Shi Feng cut him off. 

“Don’t worry about it. To find a compatible companion in the Dao is rare for the likes of me,” he said. “I had a pleasant reminiscence these past few days.”

His words were like warm spring rain melting away the winter frost. As Shi Feng finished speaking, his smile grew nostalgic as his gaze turned distant. It was an unexpectedly tender expression, so Mo Yixuan didn’t push any further.

That same afternoon, they descended for Star Pavilion Sect. Shi Feng had proposed riding down on a cloud made of ink, but Mo Yixuan couldn’t picture the image of two grown men sitting on something so fluffy and instantly rejected the idea.

Upon which Shi Feng agreed that it was indeed too much a waste of qi, grabbed him around the waist, and dived off the edge of his floating island peak.

“.......” Mo Yixuan was too stunned to speak. Not that he could open his mouth against the wind rushing into his face.

“Circulate qi to form a shield around you,” Shi Feng reminded him helpfully. “Flying without a sword or treasure tool may be more convenient, but it means working around other difficulties.”

Like air pressure trying to ram a pole through your eyeballs, Mo Yixuan thought grimly as he did as he was told. Eventually he managed to ease the rush and even open his eyes as they passed through a thick, white cloudbank. 

Which blocked his view of everything again.

“.....” Mo Yixuan sighed.

—

When the telltale peaks of Star Pavilion Sect finally came into focus as nine fingers reached towards Heaven, Shi Feng slowed down his pace. 

“Your sect leader’s quarters are that way,” he said, pointing to the northwest. “Will you go there, or back to your own peak?”

“The latter,” Mo Yixuan didn’t have to think twice. If Fei Chenling saw him now, he’d either smother him with attention or talk his ear off, both prospects that make him shudder.

Shi Feng turned and headed for the southeast. Meanwhile, Mo Yixuan concentrated at committing the topography below him to memory. Having worked in architecture, he could appreciate the fine contours of land and slopes and delighted in their different sizes and shapes.

Yet soon enough, he sensed something wrong. The usual empty and quiet Mt. Jingting was agog with qi signatures and presences of all kinds. The duo felt before they saw a sizable crowd of cultivators gathered at the foot of the hill that led to his personal living quarters. When Mo Yixuan was just close enough to make out their individual forms, Shi Feng stopped them.

Already anxious, Mo Yixuan only asked, “What is it?” without pulling his eyes from the crowd.

“Your collar is crooked.”

“What?” When Mo Yixuan looked over, Shi Feng was already straightening out his clothes and adjusting his hair so that it cascaded gracefully down his back. By some miracle, the skeleton flower hairstick was still securely holding up his hair.

Mo Yixuan suddenly had the impression that he was getting ready for preschool while his mother fussed over his uniform. He coughed lightly and muttered, “Can’t they see us from here?”

“Not if I don’t want them to,” Shi Feng replied easily. “Now you look presentable.”

“Right. Thanks.” Mo Yixuan’s reply was automatic as he saw Shi Feng smile. He liked to do that a lot. His hair and clothes, on the other hand, looked like he had just walked out of the dressing room with nary a strand or hair out of place. 

The two of them continued their descent while Mo Yixuan’s eyes picked through the crowd. Most of them seemed to be common disciples, but there were two older, unfamiliar men amongst them—maybe an elder and peak lord?—as well as a figure hurrying up the hill that Mo Yixuan instantly recognized as Ouyang Che.

He sure has a lot of free time, Mo Yixuan mused as he recalled the peak lord barging to his place to ask for lunch in the past.

Nan Wuyue and his patchy black robes were nowhere to be seen.

“It looks like a show’s about to start,” Shi Feng remarked as he stopped them again a few hundred feet away from all the commotion. Again, nobody raised an eye at them despite the close proximity. “Would you like to watch?”

Mo Yixuan ultimately agreed. Rather than barge straight in, it was better to see what was going on first. Seeing this, Shi Feng withdrew his brush and drew a series of powerful strokes around them both. When the ink and flowers both ran their course, a large white fluffy cloud appeared at their feet.

“.......” said Mo Yixuan. 

Shi Feng released him first and went to sit down comfortably on the floating mass wide enough to fit three men. “What do you think of my front row seats, Junior Mo?”

“Senior Shi is quite the...man of taste,” Mo Yixuan tried hard not to let his disbelief show, but his expression had long given him away.

Shi Feng just laughed. “I’ve already expended my qi on this. You might as well use it instead of wasting your own away just floating there.”

Resignedly, Mo Yixuan flew to the cloud as well and settled down as dignifiedly as he could muster. It was almost like sitting on a couch cushion, soft yet firm, so he found it easy to get comfortable before long.

“I recognize that youngster from last time,” Shi Feng observed as he pointed out Ouyang Che breaking through the ranks below to confront the leaders of the crowd. “But who are those other two?”

Before Mo Yixuan was put on the awkward spot of answering questions he didn’t know, Ouyang Che spoke up.

“Peak Lord Ji, Elder Han, what is the meaning of this?”

—

*This verse is from Du Fu’s poem “Watching Lady Gongsun’s Disciple Perform a Sword Dance.”

{extra}

Priest: And will you, Star Pavilion Sect Peak Lord Mo Yixuan, take this cultivator to be your fatefully matched Dao companion?
Shi Feng: *smiling affably*
Mo Yixuan, heart moved: I d—
Nan Wuyue: Hold it right there!
Ruyi: No, you hold it right there!

—