There is no Redemption for A Scum Villain

Epilogue

Generations of peak lords had ruled Cang Qiong Mountain before the current Qing-generation had taken over. Most of them had dragged their time until they had reached old age, only giving up their sports when they were unable to hold them any longer.

The current ones did not feel the same need to cling to their titles. Not the sect leader who had long outshone his predecessors, nor his second in line, who could have ascended at age fifty-one had he been willing. Not even their most stubborn of juniors.

To them, the thought of giving way to their head disciples was soothing. A life of retirement, knowing that young people would follow them to honor their legacy. Even when they themselves were only around their first hundred years, they did not mind. They had led the mountain long enough.

Three years after the youngest of them had reached their first millenia of age, the time came. Liu Qingge called them together. Everyone knew what the man would announce even before he came in, a very bruised, but even more happy looking man in tow.

Liu Qingge's robes were torn in the hem and he was bleeding from a corner of his lip, but his eyes were glowing. He hadn't even reached his spot yet, when he had fumbled his signia from his robes already.

Had he been any other man, he would have been smiling like a fool as he held it up to announce,

"This peak lord is unworthy to hold the title of the Bai Zhan peak lord after having rightfully been beaten by his personal disciple. In the presence of my peers, I hereby resign my title down the line. Yang Wanzhan. It is now yours."

Yang Wanzhan's smile made up tenfold what Liu Qingge's face had been lacking. "This disciple thanks Shizun," he replied joyfully.

"We congratulate Shizhi to his victory," Yue Qingyuan said gently, "Some fresh air blowing around this mountain's peaks is appreciated. I believe it is time, no?"

No one had to reply. The decision had always been unanimous. These people had taught their disciples for over seventy years now. How could they be uncertain?

The ceremony of office was always a spectacular festivity. The young men and women at the center of attention were dazzling. Their strength and virtues were written on their faces as clearly as lines on a stone slate. A new generation of leaders took the stage as the old faded into the shadows. Their stories would still be sung, but why would they cling to old glory if they could watch the new blossom to life?

Yue Qingyuan looked proudly on as his disciple drew his sword, not having to worry about this action, not burdened by a single worry or regret with his eyes fixed on a spot not far from his teacher. Yue Qingyuan knew that the man next to him looked elsewhere. Maybe at his own disciple, who stood strong and proud right next to the new sect leader. Or maybe to the woman a bit further. The one, whose name meant the change that she brought with holding the position she had now gained. Mu Wanbian.

Yue Qingyuan couldn't help but smile. Before him now lay a new slate. A new life. New opportunities. But one thing would not, could not change.

His hand bumped into something as he reached to his side. Unsurprisingly, the man next to him had had the same plan as him. Without even looking, they entwined their hands together. A gentle weight settled on Yue Qingyuan's shoulder. When the man looked over he had to smile. His husband had leaned his head against him, his black hair, now streaked with silver, obscuring his features.

They would have been able to hide their age for centuries to come. Still they had let some marks show. Yue Qingyuan's face had more lines, especially framing his mouth and eyes. Shen Qingqiu did not dare this yet, but he couldn't help but adore the way every white hair on his head showed the time he had lived. The time he had been with the man he loved. And he loved to see the marks he had carved into this man with every smile he had caused.