What if dying in the Burial Mounds wasn't the end? What if fate pulls on the strings of reality and gives Wei Wuxian infinite chances at life? If this was truly the case, how would Wei Wuxian spend those lives?
Hello! I am aware that I haven't updated yesterday. I was planning on doing so but I realized how short it was. I decided to infuse it with today's chapter. To make up for the wait, I tried making this chapter as good as possible (aka inserting all of my fancy vocabulary words in here so it looks smarter than it is). Hope you like it :)
Also, thanks for the 100 reads! It hasn't even been a week since I made this account and started this story so I thank everyone who has been supporting me.
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As Wei Wuxian emerged from the clutches of his agonizing nightmares, a glimmer of anticipation danced in his eyes. Something felt different about this day. Instead of the sun's gentle descent towards the western horizon, it now emerged from the eastern sky, casting its warm rays upon the world.
Rising to his feet with robotic motions, Wei Wuxian experienced a sharp pang of pain shooting through his head, as if a reminder of the battles he had fought both in reality and within the depths of his mind. Seeking relief, he pressed two fingers against his temple, massaging it in small, soothing circles.
Determination etched upon his face, Wei Wuxian made a final decision. Today, he would go on a journey to the Burial Mounds, driven by a yearning to reunite with A-Yuan, the innocent soul he had been forced to leave behind. Aware of the considerable distance that lay ahead, Wei Wuxian knew he needed to acquire a sword for his travels, despite the lingering weakness of his spiritual core. Nevertheless, he held a glimmer of confidence, believing that he would still be able to wield a sword and even soar through the skies. He was, after all, a talented cultivator, before his Yilling Louzu days.
With the knowledge that a nearby town in Gusu awaited him, Wei Wuxian set off, his footsteps slow and deliberate, his weary body dragging itself in the direction of civilization. As if guided by an invisible hand, he navigated his way through the paths until the humble town came into view. Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped into the heart of the bustling community, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of a blacksmith's forge.
Almost instantly, a cautious voice broke through the noise of the crowd. "Stranger," the person addressed Wei Wuxian, their tone laced with curiosity and wariness, "You don't seem to be from around here." Prepared for such inquiries, Wei Wuxian had already constructed his response. "I am a rogue cultivator," he replied without faltering, his voice steady and measured. "Recently, I encountered a formidable corpse puppet, which I managed to vanquish. However, the intense resentful energy it emanated proved too much for my spiritual sword, causing it to shatter. That is why I have come here in search of a new one."
As the words left his lips, Wei Wuxian observed the widening of the townsfolk's eyes, a clear indication that they recognized the formidable reputation associated with the Yilling Louzu, the infamous moniker that had become synonymous with his name. While he had no desire to draw further attention to himself, the realization that his reputation was already tainted beyond repair reassured him. If casting himself as a victim of the notorious Yilling Louzu gained sympathy, he would accept it, for the townspeople would be more inclined to extend their support and aid to someone who had seemingly fallen victim to the hostility that shrouded his name.
His ruse had worked precisely as intended, as the concerned townsfolk ushered him towards a blacksmith's workshop, their hands trembling with a mixture of fear and reverence. As the man relayed Wei Wuxian's story to the blacksmith, the realization struck him that he had no money to purchase a new sword. Hoping that his tale of the corpse puppet encounter would elicit enough sympathy to waive the cost, he braced himself for the likelihood that he would have to negotiate a deal. His doubts arose from the knowledge that even the common folk were grappling with financial hardships in the aftermath of the war.
However, before he could confront the situation, piercing screams erupted from outside, carrying a palpable sense of terror. In a matter of seconds, two bloodthirsty corpses forcefully crashed into the building, threatening to plunge the workshop into chaos. Acting swiftly on instinct, Wei Wuxian infused his finger with spiritual energy, drawing a talisman into the air and unleashing it upon the intruders. The corpses were immediately frozen in their tracks, and their menacing advance halted.
The surrounding witnesses stared in disbelief, their expressions a testament to the shock that gripped them. Wei Wuxian stood there, maintaining a facade of indifference, as if the sudden intrusion and his swift intervention were but an annoying disturbance. Breaking the tense silence, he casually asked, "So...about the sword?" His words snapped the blacksmith's dazed mind back into focus. "Young master, thank you for saving us!" the man exclaimed, his voice trembling with gratitude. "Please, consider the sword as a token of our appreciation. There's no need for payment."
Wei Wuxian couldn't bring himself to reveal that the threat posed by the corpses was relatively manageable, considering they were mere walking corpses. He chose to let the townspeople believe in the brilliance of his heroic act, for today seemed to be a day blessed with unusual luck. Such moments were rare for him, so he decided to embrace them and revel in the unexpected turn of events.
Selecting a hilt and blade, Wei Wuxian assembled a sword that bore a resemblance to his previous weapon, allowing him a familiar comfort without raising suspicions of its similarity. Naming it QiFai, he couldn't help but chuckle at the incredulous expression that crossed the blacksmith's face. The name itself held a playful meaning, translating to "start flying" directly and informally, devoid of the symbolic weight that often accompanied traditional sword names.
Wei Wuxian stepped out of the village, mounting his newly acquired sword. The initial unsteadiness soon gave way to a sense of familiarity as he adapted to the unique sensation of riding a different blade through the open skies. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, motivating his spirit.
Without delay, Wei Wuxian undertook his journey toward the Burial Mounds, paying little heed to the need for necessities such as food, water, or supplies. The estimated duration of the trip amounted to roughly one and a half days. "That shouldn't be too long," he mused aloud. After all, he had trained his stomach to endure hunger and survive on meager rations.
As his ebony hair fluttered in the playful breeze, Wei Wuxian rode into the approaching dusk, a sense of familiarity gradually washing over him. This was the life Wei Wuxian wanted. A life full of freedom and tranquility and no demonic cultivation to prohibit his unlimited life of joy.
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Hope you liked today's chapter. I look forward to seeing you in the next one. As always, comments and tips are appreciated. Have a good day.
P.S. Please let me know if these filler chapters are boring. I promise there will be action soon but just let me know if you want me to skip the good parts.
