[Mo Dao Zu Shi x Reader]
──❝Lotus Serenade❞──
In the enchanting world of "The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation," amidst the chaos and intrigue of ancient cultivation sects...
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──❝Unveiling the Secrets Within Temple Cave's Silent Halls❞──
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〖 MT. DAFAN 〗
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Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and the enigmatic [Y/n] found themselves on the meandering path leading to a remote village nestled on the mist-shrouded slopes of Mt. Dafan. As they approached, an uncanny sense of foreboding cloaked the village like a sinister specter, casting a pall of unease over its narrow cobblestone streets and shadow-drenched alleys. The village appeared frozen in time, with dilapidated houses leaning wearily against each other, their weathered facades bearing silent witness to the ravages of neglect and decay. The air hung heavy with an oppressive stillness, broken only by the mournful creaking of rusty gates and the distant wail of an unseen wind. The villagers who shuffled past cast furtive glances at the newcomers, their eyes betraying a haunting mix of fear and resignation. A thick mist enshrouded the square, lending the surroundings an otherworldly, phantasmagoric quality that chilled the bones and whispered of unseen horrors lurking just beyond the mortal realm. As the group weaved their way through the labyrinthine streets, they stumbled upon an elderly woman, her gnarled figure hunched over in the flickering glow of a feeble lantern. She mumbled incoherently, her words tumbling forth with a haunting rhythm that spoke of ancient secrets and long-forgotten sorrows. Her gaze, clouded with the weight of countless years, seemed to flit disconcertedly between the present and a fractured past. She bore the visage of an elderly dame, her form stooping with the passage of time, and her crown adorned with a modest scattering of silvery, sparse strands.
The trigger that prompted [Y/n] to reconsider her inclination to approach the elderly woman emanated from the distinctive attire she adorned—the resplendent robes of the Qishan Wen Clan, bedecked in pristine white, embellished with vibrant red hems, and adorned with motifs reminiscent of the sun. Notwithstanding the affiliation with the Wen Clan, an irrefutable truth prevailed: the elderly woman stood in a state of utter vulnerability, bereft of any semblance of menace. This cognitive revelation compelled [Y/n] to meticulously scrutinize and painstakingly contemplate the thoughtfulness of her resolve to initiate proximity with the aged woman. Ultimately, she acquiesced. "Look, there is an old woman. Let's asks. Maybe we can stay somewhere for the night." Wei Wuxian suggested. The quartet advanced toward the quivering woman, Wei Wuxian's voice tenderly offering solace in hushed tones, "Madam. We are passing through, and we're in need of a place to rest. Can we stay at your house for the night?" Devoid of any response, her utterances were nothing more than incorruptible gibberish tumbling forth from her lips.
