Chapter 11.
His mother watched him, searching for something in his face.
But how could she read what had no expression?
The world was cruel, humans had made it.
Trust is a lie, what is good is now bad. What was bad was now good. Your voice is little, and freedom buried deep into hell.
Xuan yin wuming processed the words his mother said. Trying to understand what she said.
He thought, is this true? Is what she said true? I can't ask that. Why would I? After all, it's just a seven years old kid. Was it my mistake that I asked such a question? That made my heart feel an onslaught of emotions.
I am a monster.
A heinous person with heinous crimes that's what they said.
They made me.
And then gave me every reason to become one.
Monsters aren't born, they are made by monsters.
His mother smiled sweetly, her smile was like dipped in honey. Innocent and playful.
Noticing the tremor going on in his chest and mind. She said, "Xuan yin wuming, i hope you get the answer you were searching for."
Wuming didn't reply back, he was lost in his own thoughts. Listening to her words made him only think more about, 'answer ? I got my answer? You just filled my head with 1000 more questions.'
"It was centuries old ,"she said.
"And Xuan Ye Xiao made the tradition in the honour of his elder brother who named him even though they weren't brothers form blood, Master xuan ye xiao loved the brother xuan yin wuming and since he was the 6 member of the 7 Sovereign and one of the 7 nation and realms. There are no records of xuan yin wuming."
She exhaled slowly,"He loved his name… because it was given by the person he loved the most."
Silence fell heavy.
"But," she said quietly, "history records that Xuan Yin Wuming walked a path of destruction."
Xuan Wuming shot back," the villain will always be the villain if the hero tells the story."
The air shifted.
Air was no longer easily filled and light, it was heavy and suffocating.
"And something happened between the seven."
Her voice lowered.
"There are no detailed records."
"Only that he was killed."
"Killed by Xuan Ying Yue… Lan Shen… Zhang Shu Xiang… and Ye Ying."
The names fell like stones.
"Xuan Ye Xiao was not part of the betrayal," she added softly. "But he remained loyal to all of them until the end."
"He established the naming tradition to honor his elder brother." she said again. The words pierced Xuan yin wuming's heart and mind.
"Every seventh generation… the most precious son would bear his name."
"To ensure he would never be forgotten."
Wuming's vision blurred. Black consciousness hovered over his vision, he smelled blood and screamed.
His past.
An arrow.
A battlefield.
The sky darkened.
And a cry—
"Big brother Wuming!" Xuan Ye Xiao's voice breaking into sobs.
A child's voice.
"Don't kill him please, stop ying yue!! Don't kill my brother. We can still guide him back to the right path." little ye xiao's fighting and screaming were futile. And nobody stopped. Why would they? They were hungry for power.
Not love.
He closed his eyes.
He remembered.
Little Ye Xiao.
Reaching for him. Pushing through people and xuan ying yue, lan shen, everyone. Tears streamed down his face. His eyes filled with grief, pain and suffering.
He came near his body. Holded him by his shoulders, taking his body into embracement and soaking his precious silk cloths into xuan yin wumings blood.
He remembered a child kneeling beside his body. Hands shaking. Voice breaking. Calling him brother.
" Why? Why would you do this? How could you do this to me ? I love you elder brother. Was my love not enough?" Young Ye Xiao asked as the light started fading away from Yin wuming's eyes. "what i wanted was not love.... but acceptance Xuan ye xiao." Yin Wuming replied. Weakly.
Xuan Ye Xiao screamed, his voice filled with pain and agony."Tell me I am your brother." Ye xiao asked yin wuming.
Xuan Yin Wuming smiled and said." Trust gets you killed, love gets you hurt, and being real …... .gets you hated. You're my brother." As the light faded away from Yin wuming's eyes and he closed them his body was cold as ice.
Ye Xiao yelled and screamed, clutching and holding Xuan Yin wuming in his arms.
Yin Wuming remembered, he thought why am I remembering this now? Why was my memory blocked? Heavens are you doing this on purpose? Playing with me.
Heavens I understand that I am an anomaly, a variable in destiny. is it really necessary for you to mock and torture me?
The only one who had not raised a blade.
The only one who had loved him.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
So at least…
At least someone remembered.
Even if the world called him a destroyer.
Even if history erased him.
He was nowhere to be found but in people's memory.
Even if his closest friends—
Killed him.
But that was another lifetime.
Ye Xiao was long gone.
And he was alive again.
In the body of his own descendant.
Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Yin Fu stepped closer and lifted his small body into her arms.
"Do you know, Wuming?" she murmured, holding him tightly. "You are the most precious thing in the world to me. And to your father."
"I know he seems distant," she whispered. "But he loves you."
Introduction every angel a demon hides and in every demon an angel strides. He thought.
Outside the door, the man closed his eyes.
He did love him.
He just did not know how to protect him.
In her embrace, Wuming remained still.
He did not return the hug.
But he did not push her away either.
I cannot blame anyone.
Not my enemies.
Not my friends.
Not even fate.
I chose my path once.
I knew it would end in blood.
Solitude is not something forced upon me.
It is something I walk into willingly.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Alone.
As a child still now I think and imagine that all of the real monsters in the world are humans.
Power and loneliness often share the same silhouette.
Wuming looked toward the main hall, noticing the faint movement at the doorway.
"I don't understand," he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Why is Father standing outside?"
"Father," he said aloud, calm but commanding, "you may come in."
The man entered. His presence was undeniable. Purple hanfu flowing with the authority of a master swordsman, his aura resonating with disciplined strength. Beard sharp, hand resting near the hilt of a sword—every movement spoke of refined skill and centuries of cultivation in temperament and martial art.
Wuming observed quietly, analyzing the father's aura, his qi refinement, his meridians developed beyond normal standards for his age. A thought flickered: Did Yin Fu do this?
"Have you come here to tell me about the culprits?" Wuming asked, voice calm, eyes sharp.
The father froze. Taken aback. What? How do I reply? How do I even begin to tell him?
Finally, he spoke. "No… it is still under the Investigate who poisoned you."
Wuming's gaze softened—just slightly, calculatingly. "Oh," he said, almost to himself. "I see. Though, I shall not make haste. But I will wait until you can tell me ."
Wuming thought, I am not going to let this past through, after all the bitch tried harming my body. And I also know the fact that you and my mother both know who's the culprit; second lady Meihua.
I am just fucking with your mind.
Silence filled the room. Not tense, not relaxed—just sharp, like a sword slicing through air.
The father's eyes flicked toward Wuming, measuring, cautious, trying to read the young master. "You've grown… stronger than I expected," he said, voice carrying a mixture of pride and unease.
Wuming tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes cold but curious. "Stronger, yes. But not all strength is visible," he said softly. "Some lie in what you cannot see—the paths, the soul, the subtle flows of qi."
Wuming was indirectly taunting his own father, for being a blind fool.
The father's hand twitched near his sword, a reflexive gesture, as if even centuries of cultivation could not erase the instinct to guard against the unknown. "Yin Fu ensured your development was… protected," he said carefully. "I had doubts about who might interfere."
Wuming's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Doubts," he echoed, almost like tasting the word. "But protection is meaningless if the mind behind it cannot be measured. I have felt the subtle disturbances you could not see. I have traced the external influences, Father. They did not touch my essence—they only shaped the body."
The father's expression hardened. "You… understand more than I anticipated."
"I do," Wuming replied, his tone cold but firm. "And that is why I do not question your presence, Father. I only observe. Your aura carries authority, yes. But it also carries hesitation, fear of outcomes you cannot control. That hesitation…" He stepped closer, eyes locked on his father's. "It is readable, as are the intentions of those who walk in the shadows. And now," his gaze flicked briefly toward the doorway where Wei Zhi waited silently, unseen, "I must decide which path to take. The soul that guides me… is mine, not yours."
A long pause stretched between them. The father's gaze softened slightly, but the tension never left the air. Finally, he said, "Then leave the matter to your judgment, Wuming. But know this—the shadows you face are not idle. They move with purpose. And one day, they may see what you cannot."
Wuming inclined his head once, eyes narrowing as a faint trace of amusement crossed his features. "Then I will show them. Or, if they fail to notice… they will vanish."
The father allowed a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of power that was equal parts respect and caution.
Inside the room, Wei Zhi observed quietly. Her small frame did not betray her awareness, but inside, her mind raced. His soul feels older than his body should allow. And yet… he is young in body. Every motion, every word, carries weight. If he is my enemy, I cannot even imagine the cost. And if he is not… then the world is shifting beneath my feet.
Xuan Katsuro sat across from him.
Posture straight. Hands resting on his knees. Controlled breathing. No wasted motion.
He had already scanned the room once upon entering.
The window is open. Books stacked. Autumn crocus on the table. Wei Zhi standing near the right pillar.
Wuming noticed all of it too.
His father spoke calmly.
"I saw you practicing sword forms with your mother. She has not been home often. Who taught you?"
Pause.
Wuming calculated.
If he says he practiced alone → abnormal growth. Suspicion.
If he says books → possible, but insufficient explanation for muscle memory.
If he credits mother → mother absent frequently. Father knows the schedule.
Best option: redirect to available variable.
"Wei Zhi taught me," Wuming's lips curved in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Wei Zhi taught me," he replied evenly. "She is… a good swordswoman. She learned from the books while you and Mother were in the libraries of the palace. She's a really good friend of mine. And a good learner."
He implied the word 'Good' not because it was true but because it was going to be used in the future. He needs powerful allys near him.
Wei zhi was truly worth the effort.
Present. Literate. Non-threatening politically.
Acceptable variable.
Wei Zhi's silence confirmed she understood what he was doing.
Father turned to her.
"You taught him?"
She bowed. "I showed him what I learned from manuals."
End of 11