Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

He wasn’t the sheep in the tiger’s lair, but the fox let loose in the henhouse!

Nan Wuyue’s gaze darted around the well-furnished room and its elegant details. He was lying on a large bed surrounded by fine gauze curtains next to a large window (currently closed from the cold). Multiple candles illuminated the bedroom, giving it a cozy feel despite the wide, empty spaces. There was a single table set up neatly with brushes, ink, and a blank piece of paper, ready for its owner to start writing at anytime, and shelves filled with Mo Yixuan’s favorite collection of empty bottles and vases.

Star Pavilion Sect had only been founded one hundred years ago and was considered young for its age. Its first sect leader had led his five disciples to claim the Nine Heavens Range and its valley after a fierce fight against their enemies. Later on, four more cultivators joined their number, each of them taking a mountain and becoming one of the sect’s nine peak lords. After the sect master passed away, the eldest senior brother Fei Chenling assumed leadership and gave his peak lord position to his strongest disciple atop Mt. Linglong (綾龍). Second Senior Brother Ouyang Che, on the other hand, became the primary peak lord in Fei Chenling’s place.

Nan Wuyue was too young to witness the founding of the sect, but he knew that Mo Yixuan had played a part in it too. Peak Lord Mo possessed three key treasures that helped him in battle: his sword, a life-saving dragon pearl, and the mystical guqin currently stored in one of his rooms. Finding his sword was impossible—as a weapon with a will of its own, it kept out of sight until Mo Yixuan needed it, but he hadn’t used it since an intersect competition almost 50 years ago. The guqin was in a different area of the house, and as for the life-saving dragon pearl…

Nan Wuyue only knew that it was plucked from the claws of a dragon—not by Mo Yixuan himself, but an ancient hero—and granted the user temporary immortality for a time when activated. Like his master’s other two treasures, it had been all but abandoned after Mo Yixuan became a peak lord, and was currently stored in this very room. The rumors went that Peak Lord Mo collected so many empty containers because he was always putting the pearl in a different one everyday, but Nan Wuyue didn’t believe it. The more someone tried to make a fuss, the likelier he was trying to hide the true story. Steel-gray eyes swept across the room, passing over the bottles lining the shelves and walls before resting on a small crowd of them at the side of Mo Yixuan’s table.

He carefully listened for any signs of his master, then peeled himself off the bed to make his way towards the table. They rested in a corner just beyond the calligraphy brush stand, 10 separate bottles left in a haphazard circle instead of the neat shelves and rows. Five were made of jade, two of porcelain, one of ivory and one a beautiful silvery bronze. All of them vied with each other in terms of beauty and exquisite details—all, that is, except one.

Nan Wuyue’s eyes settled on the smallest, plainest bottle with a triumphant smile.

Target acquired.

—

When Mo Yixuan left the bedroom, he realized belatedly that he had left his outer robes on the bed. But seeing as how he’d dry off easier without an extra layer, he simply kept walking. At the front door, he collected the bag that Qing’er had left behind yesterday and peeked at the contents: the medicine was all in neat bottles, while the food she had mentioned was actually a box containing a bowl of still steaming porridge. Mo Yixuan gave it a sniff, then an experimental taste: it seemed fresh despite all the time that had passed.

Cultivators. They had the answer to everything, didn’t they?

His next step was to go right back, but the sight of the wet footprints he’d left around the house alerted Mo Yixuan to the fact that he was still dripping wet. With a sigh, he meandered through the house before reaching another room—this one for bathing. More importantly, there was a mirror on the wall. For the first time since transmigrating to this world, Mo Yixuan gave himself a good look.

To his relief, the face that greeted him was his own, only with cleaner, finer features. His skin had never looked so fair or flawless, and his brows were naturally tapered into a sharp but scholarly slant. Perhaps the only thing worth noting were his eyes. Instead of a common brown, they’d taken on a deep blue hue that was arresting to see. The long, wet tendrils of hair that framed his face gave him dignity and poise, and the old scar that had graced his straight nose in his past life didn’t exist here. His features weren’t delicate or stunning, but carried their own strength. He had a fine but tapered jaw along with a piercing stare that could be cold or warm, scornful or affectionate as the situation demanded. He looked to be in his twenties, but felt as if he was in his late teens—energetic and wiry with the spirit of youth. Despite his expressionless mien, Mo Yixuan could admit that he was a handsome man in this life.

He tried a smile, and his reflection turned sardonic, even mocking. Seconds later, he dropped the grin and smoothed out his robes with a sigh. What was he doing preening at himself in a mirror?

I should go find myself a hobby.

After straightening himself up and drying off as best as he could, Mo Yixuan took the bag of things and opened the door to his room. The moment he entered, he saw Nan Wuyue already sitting stiffly up in bed and looking conflicted towards the door.

“Shizun…” the boy trailed off uncertainly, before making his way off the bed. But Mo Yixuan stopped him midway and eased him back under the covers.

“Why am I here, shizun?” Nan Wuyue settled for asking.

“Because you’re recovering.” Ignoring his questioning glance, Mo Yixuan moved on. “How often do you need to eat?”

Qing’er had said that Nan Wuyue hadn’t cultivated to the point of giving up food and drink, but Mo Yixuan didn’t know if cultivators did things half way. Did they need daily meals like everyone else? Or was it only snacking now and then? Nan Wuyue was completely caught off guard by the question. To his credit, he recovered quickly and replied with a cautious answer.

“...once a day is enough.”

“I see.” Mo Yixuan stared at Nan Wuyue’s thin form. Boys his age were still growing. Was it healthy to skip meals like this? He didn’t buy much into the “drink dew and be merry” philosophy that so many others seem to aim for at this sect, especially when it seemed like his disciple had yet to reach the standards. According to Ouyang Che, both he and his fellow peak lords were at least a hundred years old. At fifteen, Nan Wuyue had plenty of time to play catch-up immortal later in his life.

“From now on, eat three meals a day until you’re well,” he decided.

Nan Wuyue’s head shot up. What was Mo Yixuan playing at now? “I’m already well, shizun. I’m not—” He swallowed the rest of his words as Mo Yixuan stuck a spoonful of porridge in his mouth. Of course, he had checked the temperature first before feeding his disciple.

“Qing’er is a nice girl,” Mo Yixuan remarked offhandedly. “You shouldn’t waste her food.”

The mention of the Mt. Luojia disciple reminded Nan Wuyue how he’d failed his pity plot, making his heart fume! But outwardly he did nothing except obediently eat the porridge. Mo Yixuan had never dealt with children in his life, so he simply assumed that Nan Wuyue had taken his words to heart. Now seemed like a good time to broach some topics of the past.

“The three-horned snake…” he began, and Nan Wuyue immediately pushed Mo Yixuan’s arm aside to speak up.

“It was all this disciple’s fault!”

Another spoon of porridge was stuck inside his mouth. “I’m not done talking yet,” Mo Yixuan intoned. Nan Wuyue only blinked at him, the picture of aggrieved innocence.

“The escape of the three-horned snake,” Mo Yixuan continued, “The loss of the rare pill formula, the cave-in by the mountain forest, the undying fire at the kitchen area, and what else…”

Nan Wuyue realized that he was listing all the series of unfortunate “accidents” that had happened in the past few months and furrowed his brows in silence.

“Ah. The destruction of Mt. Jingting’s viewing pavilion,” Mo Yixuan nodded absently towards the window. Apparently, the incidents had begun when Nan Wuyue accidentally slashed through the support pillars of the tallest pavilion on the mountain while Mo Yixuan was having tea. Despite his terrible skills at qi manipulation, Nan Wuyue’s martial arts skills were no joke. Mo Yixuan had escaped unscathed, but the two-hundred year old tea pavilion was forever a relic of the past.

“I forgive you for it. All of it,” Mo Yixuan finished. “From this day on, everything starts anew, so stop asking me for punishment.”

To say that Nan Wuyue was incredulous was an understatement. He knew better than anyone else how deeply Mo Yixuan held a grudge, and how viciously he repaid his debts. So why was he giving that all up now?

Nan Wuyue’s first suspicion was that this had to be a plot to make him drop his guard. Why else would Mo Yixuan offer him general amnesty out of the blue? He hadn’t forgotten how the man had just left him to kneel in the rain until he lost consciousness!

Although...afterwards, he’d taken him to the hot springs, then took care of him in his rooms…

No, it didn’t matter! A single instance of kindness couldn’t make up for two lifetime’s worth of torment! Even if Mo Yixuan wiped his slate clean, Nan Wuyue still had to settle accounts!

He’d died the first time around precisely because of this man!

“Shizun...really forgives me? After all that…?” Nan Wuyue sounded him out.

“Why should I blame you for something that isn’t your fault?” Mo Yixuan asked back.

Bull. Both of them knew full well that something had been fishy about all of those incidents! It was why Mo Yixuan had kept punishing Nan Wuyue while trying to find proof of his guilt.

“But I—”

“You’ve done enough,” Mo Yixuan said firmly. “Pull another stunt like this and I’ll be the one being punished, not you.”

Nan Wuyue’s heart seized up. Had Mo Yixuan realized he was concocting all these accidents for his master plan to make the peak lord fall?

But no, Mo Yixuan meant it a different way. “I don’t have time to spend waiting on you all day,” he said, and fed Nan Wuyue another spoonful of porridge.

“Shizun knows my wrongs,” Nan Wuyue muttered again as his nerves relaxed.

“Mm,” Mo Yixuan said. “Finish your food.”

After Nan Wuyue was done, Mo Yixuan cleaned up the things and prepared to leave. Nan Wuyue took this chance to seize him by the sleeve.

“Where is shizun going?” he asked.

“To return this bowl,” Mo Yixuan said carelessly.

Nan Wuyue’s gaze sharpened imperceptibly. “Will shizun be gone for long?”

Mo Yixuan only shot him a look. “Lie down and rest. You don’t need to worry about such things.”

Then he tugged his sleeve free and swept out of the room, grabbing his outer robes from a corner of the bed at the same time. Nan Wuyue looked after him with mixed emotions before slowly opening the palm of his right hand.

There, glowing bright and still, laid the fabled dragon pearl. He’d only had time to snatch it and dash back to the bed before his master entered. There had been no protections on the bottle that housed it, simply because this room was the best protection of all.

Alas, Mo Yixuan had willingly brought him inside its wards. Now as Nan Wuyue concentrated, the pearl slowly sank into his skin. Within minutes, it had disappeared into his arm, becoming one with his body.

He had to gloat a little. Like this, he’d be safe no matter what Mo Yixuan tried on him next.

—

As it turned out, Mo Yixuan found neither Qing’er nor Mt. Luojia to return his goods, but the general sect kitchens at the base of the Nine Heavens Range. He gave the cooks and disciples quite a fright when he glided in to return the bowl, then sent them into a flurry when he asked for ingredients to prepare a meal.

“Peak Lord Mo...wishes to learn to cook?” the head chef asked again, somewhat incredulous.

“No,” Mo Yixuan replied rather impatiently. “I’m here to use your kitchens.” He had cooked for his mother before, so making simple meals for patients was no mystery.

Although there was the possibility of asking a Mt. Jingting disciple to do it instead, their antagonism towards Nan Wuyue made it obvious that it wouldn’t work. His residence had no servants, and he couldn’t very well ask any of the other peak lords to cook for him. Qing’er was an option, but Mo Yixuan had no idea how to find her out of the crowd of Mt. Luojia disciples without arousing attention.

Thus, it was easier to settle things himself.

He didn’t visit Nan Wuyue again except to give him his daily meals—at first more porridge, then later vegetables and some meat. Each time he only stayed long enough to watch the boy finish his food, then left with the empty bowls. It was the best way to gauge his appetite while making sure that his cooking was still palatable.

On the evening of the third day, Nan Wuyue set down his chopsticks and declared, “Shizun, I’m recovered now, really.”

Mo Yixuan only looked at his empty tray of food in satisfaction. “Mm, I agree.” Then as before, he picked up the things and rose to his feet. 

“Your treatment is over. Tomorrow, go back to your rooms.”

Nan Wuyue watched Mo Yixuan’s form glide towards the door before he blurted out, “Wait!”