The Sect Leader Raised a Fox to His Own Detriment - Chapter 1

Lingyun Mountain, Twin Peaks.

The mountains were shrouded in swirling mist and drifting clouds; jagged rocks littered the landscape, and perilous peaks stood in solitary grandeur.

Looking as far as the eye could see, primitive and elegant pavilions, terraces, and Taoist temples were scattered like stars amidst the verdant pines and cypresses. As the number one sect in the cultivation world, Lingyun Mountain itself resembled a cultivator of celestial bearing and sage-like character an object of worship and awe for countless mortals, distant and unreachable.

Today marked another annual North-South Martial Arts Competition of Lingyun Mountain.

Upon the tournament stage, black clouds blotted out the sun, and thunder rumbled alongside flashes of lightning. With a technique that drew lightning into a blade, a sudden crack rang out as the bolt snapped the fragile, rusted sword in the youth’s hand.

“North Peak, Li Xian, victory.”

The disciples of the North Peak shouted in unison, their voices instantly drowning out the South Peak disciples on the opposite side.

The defeated youth’s small hands trembled as he picked up the broken half of his rusted sword. He slunk off the stage in disgrace.

He wore his shoulder-length white hair in a style that differed from the norm. Each strand of white hair seemed plated in silver with an exceptionally bright luster, forming a stark contrast against the black short-style martial arts tunic he wore. Although he possessed delicate features with red lips and white teeth, a deep scar ran across his left cheek, marring the original handsome charm of his face.

“Tsk tsk, he lost again, as expected. I heard he’s been practicing for ten years and is still only at the first level of the Qi Refining stage. Besides, he gets eliminated in the first round every year how is someone like that worthy of being the Sect Leader’s closed-door disciple?”

“Low cultivation is one thing, but he’s been part of the sect for ten years, yet his appearance is exactly the same as when he first entered. He looks like he’s just barely past ten years old at most. No matter how you look at it, that isn’t normal, right? It’s not like he’s cultivated to the point of achieving immortality…”

“And look at that weird white hair and that deep scar on his face. I truly don’t know why the Sect Leader took him in as a closed-door disciple in the first place.”

“Didn’t someone say he’s the Sect Leader’s illegitimate son from the outside…”

“Shh!”

The whispering among the North Peak disciples cut off, but these stray fragments of gossip stirred ripples in A-Yin’s heart.

Returning to the midst of the South Peak disciples, A-Yin knew he had shamed his fellow brothers. He didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone; the only person he looked toward was his Master the Sect Leader of Lingyun Mountain, Yue Xichen.

Yue Xichen sat upright upon the corridor of the elegant Qingya Hall, high above the world and seemingly invincible.

His dark hair fell like a waterfall beneath a translucent jade crown. Clad in robes as white as snow with wide, flowing sleeves, two divine weapons hung at his waist, reflecting each other’s brilliance.

One was named Luo Hua (Falling Flower); it was icy pink throughout with a blade like jade, a carved floral hilt, and a natural fragrance. The other was named Yin Yue (Silver Moon); its blade was slender, shedding a silver light from its edge, with a crescent-moon hilt that shone resplendently. Back when he had used a sword to carry A-Yin across the Myriad Spirit Stairs, it was this Silver Moon sword.

A-Yin gazed longingly at Yue Xichen, but he saw no expression flicker on Yue Xichen’s face. That stunning countenance looked as though it had been frozen in ice.

Extremely beautiful, and extremely cold.

By now, Yue Xichen had already reached the Mahayana stage of cultivation; time would not leave even a single trace on his flawless face. This face was exactly the same as it had been ten years ago.

A-Yin did not remember things from the past. When he woke up, he was living in Peach Blossom Village.

Although the villagers never mistreated him, the way they looked at him always carried a certain coldness and detachment. He had a faint intuition deep down that Peach Blossom Village was not his home.

It was during that time that he met Yue Xichen.

Back then, he didn’t know Yue Xichen’s name; he only knew that Yue Xichen was very good-looking the exceptionally good-looking kind.

His dark brows were like a painting, his bright eyes were dark and piercing, the bridge of his nose was straight, and his vermilion lips were full. His face was thin and elegant, like a beauty from a scroll or a deity descended to the mortal realm. A-Yin felt that Yue Xichen was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, so he always called him “Beautiful Uncle.”

Beautiful Uncle would come to Peach Blossom Village to visit him every once in a while. Every time he came, he would bring sweet Peach Blossom Cakes for him to eat. The cakes were as delicious as they were beautiful, shaped like peach blossoms and tinged a delicate pink; he liked them very much.

Later on, Beautiful Uncle took him away from Peach Blossom Village and brought him up to Lingyun Mountain.

It wasn’t until Beautiful Uncle held him while flying on a sword, soaring over the seemingly endless Myriad Spirit Stairs, that he realized Beautiful Uncle was a cultivator, an immortal lord, and the Sect Leader of Lingyun Mountain.

And so, he became the closed-door disciple of this beautiful Sect Leader, Yue Xichen.

At first, he mistakenly thought a “closed-door” disciple was literally responsible for closing the doors; only later did he learn that it referred to the very last disciple a master would ever take. Since Yue Xichen was both the Sect Leader of Lingyun Mountain and the Leader of the Immortal Alliance, his status was extraordinary. Under his lineage, besides A-Yin, there were only two other disciples.

A-Yin had originally thought he was accepted as a disciple because he possessed some outstanding spiritual root or innate talent!

To his absolute surprise, he had been in the sect for ten years and his cultivation remained stagnant, making him the laughingstock of the sect. It was from that time onward that rumors began to spread that he was Yue Xichen’s illegitimate son. After all, if he weren’t an illegitimate son, why would Yue Xichen take someone with such poor aptitude as a disciple?

“Master…”

Reflected in his eyes was Yue Xichen’s figure—aloof and detached from the world. A-Yin’s internal longing and expectations transformed into a shimmering, watery light within his gaze.

During these ten years, every time he lost the North-South Martial Arts Competition, he couldn’t help but look toward Yue Xichen. He thought that receiving even a look of disappointment from Yue Xichen would be better than being ignored.

However, the eyes of the man who held the reigns of the cultivation world from on high could not find room for a speck of dust as small as him.

So, it turns out Master doesn’t like me; he actually hates me…

Lowering his head, A-Yin left the martial arts arena silently, looking like a defeated soldier who had cast aside his armor and shield.

That small, lonely silhouette left a clear and profound outline within the deep, dark pupils of Yue Xichen.