Mu Dishi had been the last to descend the hidden stairwell, and he was the first to depart. The moment he saw Ma Jingguo in the capable, if frantic, hands of the Tianshan Sect, he knew his presence was no longer required. He had no desire for a public reunion; many among the gathered elders were faces from a past he preferred to keep buried, and a conflict now would only delay Ma Jingguo's recovery.
He melted into the shadows of the subterranean halls, choosing instead to explore the deeper reaches of the Yueguang Sect's stronghold.
As he emerged into a secluded courtyard carved directly into the rugged mountainside, Mu Dishi came to a sudden halt. The air here was still and cold, trapped by towering stone walls. He looked around, his breath hitching in his chest. The architectural style—the way the pagodas were integrated into the natural rock and the specific geometric carvings on the pillars—bore a haunting resemblance to the Mu family treasure vaults.
He stood frozen, staring at the familiar stonework. It was almost an exact replica of the secret sanctuary Mu Jian Long had taken him to visit so many years ago, shortly before the world had ended for their clan.
As he traced the lines of a carved dragon on the nearest wall, the damp cold of the courtyard seemed to fade. The present dissolved, and a long-buried memory began to surface in Mu Dishi's mind, vivid and sharp as a whetted blade.
He and Mu Jiao Long stood before a small grassy hill, looking up at a tall mountain range to the north. The morning sunlight sent warm rays that touched their faces. The morning was particularly welcoming, as both the northern wind and the sun came to greet them. The soft wind blew past, making the hems of their robes flutter.
Mu Jiao Long took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh morning air. He turned his head to the left and said with a smile, "Dishi, you must pay close attention when walking on this hill."
"Why?" Mu Dishi asked.
Mu Jiao Long patted his head gently. "Because there are many hidden traps along the way. One wrong move or a single misplaced step could wound or kill you."
Mu Jiao Long then pulled an old sheepskin map from his inner robe and handed it to Mu Dishi. The two began walking toward the mountain.
"Uncle Long, what is this?" Mu Dishi asked.
"This is the map to enter the Mu treasure cave," Mu Jiao Long said with a warm smile.
Mu Dishi looked at him, confused. "Uncle Long" he asked, "is this the main reason you moved us here and established Mu Village?"
Mu Jiao Long shook his head. "I was the only one who moved to Mu Village originally, because I wanted to be closer to the treasure inside the Mu treasure cave."
"So, the others came later?" Mu Dishi asked.
"Yes, the others came later, due to a family dispute over inheritances, land, and..." he chuckled, "old grudges..."
"I've heard from others that the uncle cousins claimed all of the treasure was taken away and hidden," Mu Dishi said. "So, this is the map to that treasure? Also, is the accession true?"
Mu Jiao Long laughed. "I did take all the money away. After all, I was the leader of the household, so why should I leave anything behind?" he said proudly. "But Dishi, don't believe everything you hear. The treasure map in your hand doesn't have what people want. I only brought you here because I want to be buried here after I die."
"Why here?" Mu Dishi asked.
"Once we get inside, you'll understand."
Mu Jiao Long and Mu Dishi stopped in front of the Mu Treasure Cave. A massive dragon statue with a wide-open mouth stood at the entrance. Mu Jiao Long pulled the jade hairpin from his hair, inserted it into the dragon's mouth, and pushed it in. The cave door slowly opened.
"Dishi, watch where my feet land," Mu Jiao Long said.
Using his lightness and agility skills, he glided over the path, his feet only touching the white marble pavement. Mu Dishi quickly followed, realizing there were many hidden traps in the cave. He was curious about the pavement but didn't ask.
Mu Jiao Long then lit a candle on the wall and pulled one of the candlesticks, causing the wall to slide down. He and Mu Dishi stepped into a small room with a dark corridor stretching out before them. Mu Jiao Long picked up a torch from a basket. Mu Dishi glanced at the basket and saw only one torch remaining.
"Uncle Long, should we bring more torches next time we come back?" Mu Dishi asked.
"No, that last torch is for you to use when you're transporting my dead body here," Mu Jiao Long said.
He lit the torch and walked down the dark corridor, Mu Dishi following close behind. The two walked down a set of underground stairs. When they reached the bottom step, a door stood before them.
Mu Jiao Long knocked three times on the right door knocker, then once on the left, and once more on the right. He then pushed open the left door panel, and he and Mu Dishi stepped inside.
A man lay on an ice bed in the room. He appeared to be very young, in his early twenties, and had features similar to Wang Biming.
"Uncle Long, who is this man?" Mu Dishi asked.
"He is Biming's brother, Wang Changming," Mu Jiao Long replied, his voice soft with emotion. He moved to the side of the ice bed, sitting down and gently taking Wang Changming's cold hand in his own. "He is the real treasure in this cave." He then used his other hand to tenderly trace the contours of Wang Changming's face, his fingertips lingering over his features, as if memorizing every detail. A profound sense of longing and sorrow filled his eyes as he gazed at the man on the bed.
"Uncle Long, is he still alive?" Mu Dishi asked.
"No, he died a long time ago," Mu Jiao Long replied, his voice a somber whisper. "I wanted to preserve his body. The cold of this mountain is the perfect temperature. He didn't decay because I applied the special corpse preservation powder that Chen Fa made all over his body. This is the reason why I moved myself from the capital to here—so I could be closer to him." He smiled and sighed. "But your father insisted on coming with me, which prompted our close family members to follow."
"So, there's no treasure here?" Mu Dishi asked.
"There is only death here," Mu Jiao Long said.
"Uncle Long," Mu Dishi began, "you must have liked him very much. How did he die?"
Mu Jiao Long took Wang Changming's hand and placed it on his cheek. The coldness of the hand was a stark reminder that the person before him had left many years ago. Tears welled in his eyes as he said sadly, "He died because of me. I forced him to his death."
"Changming and I were always good friends. He came to the capital to study medicine and stayed at our home. As the years passed, we grew closer, and our relationship became intimate." He looked at Mu Dishi. "From the beginning, it was a forbidden love, but neither of us could stop our feelings. He was forced to get married, and I was forced as well."
"My martial arts skills were low, and to save him from imprisonment, I left him. I wandered the land alone and practiced martial arts. But when I came back for him, I was too late. He died of a broken heart in my arms. His last wish was for me to take care of Biming."
Mu Dishi looked at the young man on the bed, who seemed to be sleeping rather than dead.
Mu Jiao Long stood and walked back to him, patting his left shoulder. "Dishi," he said, "if one day you find someone you truly love, you'll understand why Changming chose to die rather than betray me."
"I will never die for love," Mu Dishi had replied then, his voice as cold and certain as the ice bed behind them.
Mu Jiao Long let out a soft, knowing laugh. "That is only because you haven't found that someone yet, Dishi. I will ask you again in ten years; I suspect your answer might be quite different." He sighed, his gaze lingering on the boy with a mix of pity and warning. "Hear me: if you know you cannot love someone back, it is better to make it clear from the very beginning. The longer you let a situation linger, the more agonizing it becomes to sever the bond when the time finally comes."
Mu Dishi absorbed the words in silence before glancing back at the frozen chamber. "Because of a promise... is that why Biming is the only one with the surname Wang in all of Mu Village?"
"I could not refuse Changming's final request," Mu Jiao Long replied softly. "To protect his blood was to keep a piece of him alive."
They turned away from the dead and began the long climb up the stone stairs. The air grew thinner, the chill of the ice room replaced by the stale, dry scent of the upper corridors.
"Dishi, you and I are going to visit Tong Village in the south next month," Mu Jiao Long announced, his tone shifting back to the pragmatic.
"Do we have family down there?"
"No," Mu Jiao Long replied shortly.
"Then why go so far?"
Mu Jiao Long gave him a cryptic side-glance. "You'll understand when we get there."
When they reached the top of the stairwell, Mu Jiao Long grabbed Mu Dishi's hand, steering him away from the path they had taken to enter. "This way."
"Aren't we going back the same way we came in?" Mu Dishi asked, confused by the unfamiliar carvings on the walls.
Mu Jiao Long shook his head, a dry scoff escaping him. "No. If we retraced our steps now, it would lead us down a branching path to nowhere. I was curious once, years ago—I ended up lost in these tunnels for four days before I found the sky again."
As they neared the exit, Mu Dishi looked back at the darkness. "Uncle Long, back there in the ice room... why did you only open one of the door panels?"
Mu Jiao Long's eyes twinkled with a hint of his old, mischievous self. "Let that be a surprise for any intruders who think they can simply walk in and disturb his rest."
The memory dissolved like mist in the morning sun. Mu Dishi stood in the Yueguang Sect courtyard, his thumb tracing the 'Wang' inscription on Ma Jingguo's dagger. The irony wasn't lost on him: he had spent his life fleeing the "madness" of his elder's love, only to find himself trapped in a valley of his own making, protecting a boy who had become his world.
A heavy, masculine voice broke his reverie. "Do you see anything you like in here?"
Mu Dishi turned slowly. A middle-aged man and a younger companion stood near the mountain entrance. He didn't speak; he simply let his silence act as a barrier.
"You must be Mu Dishi," the man continued, his eyes scanning Mu Dishi with a mix of caution and greed. "I've heard your skills surpass even those of Mu Jiao Long. The martial world speaks your name in whispers. Tell me, what are your plans for the Central Plains?"
Mu Dishi didn't dignify the question with an answer. He turned on his heel and began to walk away, his white robes fluttering like a ghost's shroud.
"Mu Dishi! If you leave the Beijxing Sect alone, we will leave you alone!" the man shouted after him.
The younger man, Wenyan, hurried forward, his eyes fixed on Mu Dishi's face with unsettling intensity. He offered a warm, predatory smile. "I had heard tales of your beauty, Mu gongzi, but I dismissed them as exaggeration. Seeing you face-to-face... you truly are a rare treasure."
Mu Dishi's gaze flickered to him—a look so sharp and frigid it felt like a physical blow. Without a word, he stepped past them and into the open courtyard, leaving the mountain's shadows behind.
"Father," Wenyan whispered, watching the white figure vanish into the distance. "What if he decides to stand in our way?"
"I hope for his sake he doesn't," the father replied, though his voice lacked conviction. He looked at his son sternly. "Wenyan, I forbid you to pursue him. You can toy with anyone else in the martial world, but stay away from the Mu survivor. He is not a man—he is a catastrophe waiting to happen."