A Clan of Our Own | The Untamed/Chen Qing Ling/ Modao Zushi

Son of the Demonic Cultivator

Maybe it would have been better had Sizhui not opened the doors to his parents' chambers. Perhaps he could delude himself into believing that everything was okay. Alas, that would be impossible. Even had he shaken off his paranoia and went to sleep, he would still have to wake up and open the doors eventually.

Though it was difficult to see in the dark, the dimmest of moonlight revealed his father, the esteemed Lan Wangji, seemingly almost...frozen, as if he were a fresh corpse. But he clearly was still alive, as he was was kneeling on the ground, his eyes wide open and his breathing irregular and strained. Almost as if breathing was laborious and intense, or he was completely irate. It mimicked a growl from a demonic creature that Sizhui would have been taught to subdue in his cultivation training Something seemed to writhe on the floor, as Sizhui could hear a lot of rustling and muffled groans.

"Light a few more candles. Poor boy can't see anything." The same mysterious voice instructed.

What was going on? As Sizhui stepped forward, he felt something block his feet.

As Sizhui's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see the full picture. It was enough to make the ground sway under his feet and a heavy weight drop in his stomach. Lan Zhan wasn't just frozen, he was bound by tight ropes and he was struggling to free himself. The thing blocking his path wasn't just a mere sack of radishes left on the wayside: it was his pa, writhing on the floor with his arms bound behind his back and his mouth gagged with a ball of white cloth. His robes seemed undone, as if he had been ambushed just as he was undressing.

Sizhui gasped in horror before shakily putting a hand to his mouth. He tore his eyes away from his parents for a moment to see the culprit responsible for this.

"Who...Who..."

This was a man he had never met before, yet seemed strangely familiar in some way. His white and blue robes were reminiscent of his father's, and that whitehead band worn by his family and Jingyi...

In fact, as Sizhui looked around, he realised that they weren't the only ones in the room. A large group of white-clad cultivators were holding the ropes that held his father hostage, and they somehow had managed to secretly surround him when his attention was somewhere else. They too had the white headband he recognised, and Sizhui's stomach did multiple flips.

Why did he feel as though that he should know these strangers?

The stranger in the white and blue stepped closer to Sizhui, lifting his feet over the bound Wei Ying on the floor. Instinctively, Sizhui tried to move back, but his back was met by a cultivator and he was pushed forward in order to face the man walking towards him. Suddenly, the man took ahold of a candle that was in the hands of one of the white clad cultivators and brought it to Sizhui's face. Upon closer inspection, he truly did resemble his father. Tall, handsome and broad with a strong jaw and an aura of serenity and comfort. Unexpectedly, the man gave him a warm, calming smile yet...Sizhui felt no reassurance looking at him. Actually, he felt his chest beat even quicker than before, his mouth turning dry. What was this stranger's intentions?

"Who...are you?" He managed to force out of himself at last. "A-and what have you done to my parents?!"

As a response, the man let out a little tut.

"My...you are a sight to behold."

In fear, Sizhui quickly pulled his nightwear closer together to hide any exposed skin, not wanting any repeating issues with any men who had issues with boundaries. His hands were clutched to his chest, which was certainly noticed by the man before him.