Chapter 22
Wei Zhi pushed herself up slightly, her brows furrowing, her expression clearly annoyed as she looked at both of them.
Weiyang turned his head toward Wuming—
Then glanced at her.
Saw her face.
And—
He burst out laughing.
Loud.
Uncontrolled.
Wuming watched for a second—
Then a quiet laugh escaped him too.
Not loud.
But real.
Wei Zhi's irritation deepened.
"You both are the most annoying people I've met."
Neither of them stopped.
Weiyang was still laughing.
Wuming let out another short breath of amusement before nudging them slightly.
"Move," he said flatly.
"You're both heavy."
Weiyang immediately snapped back—
"Oi, you dragged us down!"
Wei Zhi pushed herself off them, dusting her sleeve, clearly done with both of them.
And behind her—
The two boys were still half on the ground.
Laughing.
Wuming had taken the impact.
He sat on the ground, steady despite the fall, one arm instinctively wrapping around Wei Zhi—holding her in place so she wouldn't hit the ground. Her back rested against his chest, his grip firm but controlled, shielding her from the impact.
For a moment—
No one moved.
Then Wei Zhi pushed herself up, brushing off the dust from her sleeves, her expression already returning to calm.
She extended her hand toward Weiyang.
"Get up."
Weiyang took it without hesitation and stood, stretching slightly as if nothing had happened.
Then Wei Zhi turned and offered her hand to Wuming as well.
He looked at it for a second—
Then took it.
Both of them pulled him up.
Simple.
Unspoken.
The moment passed.
They reached the Xuan clan gates soon after.
Tall wooden doors stood ahead, guarded by two men stationed on either side. Their posture was straight, unmoving, eyes forward—but they noticed Wuming instantly.
Respectful.
Silent.
Wei Zhi stepped forward first.
Then stopped.
Wuming, walking just behind her, halted the moment she did.
She turned.
Looking straight at him.
"Wait," she said.
A pause.
"Why are you walking behind me?"
Wuming tilted his head slightly.
"Ladies first."
A brief silence.
Wei Zhi blinked—
Then a faint blush touched her face.
"Yes… ladies first," she said.
Then added, more quietly—
"But in here… I'm just a maid."
Wuming looked at her.
Unmoved.
"What a hypocrite," he said calmly.
"I didn't know you were one too."
A slight pause.
"I thought you considered me your friend."
Wei Zhi was taken aback.
Just for a moment.
Then—
"…Hm."
A small smile formed.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Before she could respond—
He spoke again.
"What?"
Her expression shifted.
Serious now.
"Where's Weiyang?"
A pause.
"Where did he go?"
Wuming didn't look concerned.
"He went to his own house."
Wei Zhi frowned.
"Wait… we didn't walk him home?"
"He's a boy."
"So?"
Wuming's gaze shifted slightly.
"It doesn't matter. He wouldn't have liked it."
Wei Zhi's brows furrowed deeper.
"Does it not matter to you what others feel or think?"
Wuming answered without hesitation—
"No."
She looked at him directly.
"It does to me," she said.
"I'm human."
A brief pause.
"Strangers' opinions may not matter…"
Her voice softened slightly.
"But people I know do."
"And besides—"
She added,
"He's our teammate now."
Wuming glanced back once.
The street behind them was empty.
"He's gone."
Wei Zhi stood there for a second—
Looking past him.
At nothing.
Then she exhaled lightly.
"…Still," she said quietly.
"We should've walked him."
But she didn't move.
And neither did Wuming.
Both went other ways after entering the estate, to their respective rooms. Wei zhi's room was a few blocks away from Wuming's room. She was his personal maid of course she had his work to do, no matter how tired she was.
Steam filled the room.
It clung to the walls, blurred the edges of everything, softened the sharpness of reality into something distant and quiet. The only sound was the faint ripple of water shifting with slow, controlled breaths.
There's a very thin line between reality and fantasy.
Wuming sat in the bath.
The water reached just below his abdomen, heat sinking into his muscles, loosening the tension he never acknowledged. His head rested back against the edge, damp strands of his dark hair clinging to his forehead and neck. Droplets traced down his skin, catching briefly before disappearing beneath the surface.
His arms rested along the sides of the tub.
Still.
Unmoving.
For once—there was no one around him.
No noise.
No interruptions.
Just silence.
His eyes remained closed. His long white eyelashes looked a bit spiky and rested on his cheeks.
Breathing steady.
Then—
They opened.
Slowly.
Straightening his spine he looked down, in the reflection of the water—
Something shifted.
The iris darkened. A colour so deep, almost resembling pure blood, yet too light to be blood.
A faint red glow surfaced beneath the surface of his gaze, like something awakening from a deep, endless sleep.
The first stage.
Excusatio: The one inevta.
A subtle mark— visible, yet unmistakable.
Not fully formed. It wasn't a complete inevta, after all, it's was only a first stage.
But present.
Watching.
Wuming exhaled slowly, his voice low, almost blending with the steam.
"…My life's getting a lot busier."
His hand lifted from the water, droplets falling back as his fingers moved toward his eye.
He touched just beneath it.
Lightly.
As if confirming something only he could feel.
His thoughts drifted.
To earlier.
To that man.
Elder Gu…A faint irritation crossed his mind.
That old man keeps pushing.
His gaze lowered slightly.
Even that mantra…
A flicker of annoyance.
One thousand words. And I had to recite it.
His jaw tightened just slightly.
While those two…
A pause.
Whispering. Laughing.
A faint exhale left him.
Not anger.
Not quite.
Just… something else.
That language…His eyes sharpened slightly.
It wasn't normal.
Ancient.
Too ancient.
The language of the mantra was different from any language present in the meyveth.
It is a planet situated in between, surrounded by the sea of stars and galaxies, planet in a sea of stars, described as Meyvat.
I don't know how far it is from earth. I don't care anymore. It doesn't matter.
It's inevitable.
The language is a precious and dangerous language, beside the ancient language of this world, meyric. And other 5 languages.
The Meyric, The Xuan's — also known as The dragon dance, The Phoenix dance, clash of the killer, Metikashi and zuikashi.
Not something common cultivators would even recognize.
His fingers lowered back into the water.
Ripples spread outward.
Its a pity even they didnt knew, even they…Don't know their real surname.
And do i know? Ofcourse.
It was nowhere bound, in the nameless book. The heavens book.
I not only their about my origin the others too. The Book had information about every single thing, clans and their history or that had ever existed still existed and had cease to exist.
Everything.
Xuan is the surname that I gave them, it never really belonged to anyone but me.
Silence returned.
The steam thickened again.
The red in his eyes dimmed slightly—
Not gone.
Just… waiting.
Wuming leaned back again, closing his eyes once more.
But this time—
There was something beneath the calm.
Something deeper.
Something awakening.
He thought the first stage had already awakened. It gave him movement speed—sharp, precise—and a level of refinement that allowed him to see things unknown to others.
And a strange kind of refinement… something deeper, quieter.
A clarity.
As if the world had peeled back a thin layer, revealing things others simply could not see.
He looked down into the water.
The surface trembled faintly with his breathing.
And there—
His reflection stared back at him.
Those eyes.
He looked down into the water again, narrowing his sharp eyes which were red and black, instead of his golden eyes.
Burning.
Like fire trapped behind glass.
The shape of his eye had changed too—subtly, yet unmistakably. The iris no longer looked entirely human.
There was structure to it now.
His reflection stared back at him.
Should I tell Gu… or not?
A pause.
Let him find his own way. Why should I even bother?
A faint shift in his expression.
Cold.
Detached.
He exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath dissolving into the steam—
Then—
He stopped.
Mid-breath.
Something felt… wrong. The air had shifted.
Barely.
But enough.
A faint sound reached him.
Soft.
Dry.
A dragging whisper against the floor.
Then—A low, thin—Hissssss…A snake.
Rattling and Hissing.
Inside the room. His gaze shifted.
First to the front.
Then to the right.
Nothing.
Only steam and blurred walls.
He turned—
About to look to the left— And the moment he did—Hiss—The snake was there.
Face to face.
Inches apart, barely 3 to 4 inches apart.
He froze.
The snake rose sharply, its body coiled, head lifted—its scales dark, glistening faintly in the dim, damp light.
Its tongue flicked out.
Once.
Twice.
Its eyes locked onto his.
Unblinking.
Cold.
His thoughts snapped instantly— How the hell did the snake come in? I wasn't able to sense it.
His body didn't move, but his awareness sharpened instantly.
Every sense stretched outward.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The steam thickened.
Heavy.
Clinging to the space between them.
The snake didn't move.
Not yet.
It watched.
Patient.
Its pitch-black eyes fixed on him—unblinking, empty, yet filled with something that did not belong to any natural creature.
Wuming didn't attack either.
His breathing slowed.
Controlled.
Measured.
Every muscle in his body remained still, yet ready.
Waiting.
Observing.
Something was off.
Not just the snake—
But the intent behind it.
This isn't random.
The thought settled quietly in his mind.
Demonic snakes did not simply wander into places like this.
Not inside a sealed room.
Not without leaving a trace.
Not without purpose.
The snake's body shifted slightly.
A slow coil.
Its scales scraped faintly against the floor, a dry, dragging sound that echoed too clearly in the silence.
Then—
It tilted its head.
Just slightly.
As if… studying him.
Not hunting.
Not rushing.
Watching.
Wuming's eyes narrowed a fraction.
It knows.
The realization came sharp.
Clean.
This wasn't just an attack.
It was sent.
The air felt heavier.
Denser.
A faint pressure began to settle in the room—subtle, almost unnoticeable—
But real.
His gaze didn't leave the snake.
But his awareness stretched beyond it.
Tracing.
Searching.
Looking for something else—
Anything.
A presence.
A thread.
A sign.
Nothing.
Only the snake.
And yet—
That feeling remained.
As if something unseen was watching through it.
Through those eyes.
A quiet shift moved through him.
Deep.
Under the skin.
His spine straightened slightly.
And then—
Something stirred.
On his back.
Faint at first.
Like heat.
No—
Not heat.
A slow, crawling sensation.
Spreading.
Wuming's expression didn't change.
But his body stilled further.
The feeling grew stronger.
Sharper.
As if something was being drawn across his skin from within.
A mark—
Revealing itself.
The curse.
His curse mark.
It began at the center of his spine.
Dark.
Thin lines forming like cracks in glass—
Spreading outward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Not random.
A pattern.
Ancient.
Unfamiliar.
The skin around it darkened slightly, the lines deepening into something almost alive, faintly pulsing beneath the surface.
The steam shifted again—
And for a moment—
The mark became visible through the haze.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
Something awakened.
Not just in his eyes.
But in his body.
The snake reacted.
Immediately.
Its body tensed.
Its head lowered slightly, then raised again—this time more cautious.
Its tongue flicked out faster now.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
It had noticed.
Something had changed.
The space between them felt different now.
Heavier.
Darker.
Wuming exhaled slowly.
Still calm.
Still composed.
But his eyes—
They had sharpened.
Deeper.
Colder.
So… it reacts to this.
The thought passed quietly.
The snake let out another hiss—
Lower this time.
Not as aggressive.
More… wary.
As if it wasn't entirely sure anymore.
Whether it was the hunter—
Or the one being watched.
Silence stretched again.
Neither moved.
But the balance—
Had shifted.
And somewhere—
Unseen.
Unfelt.
Something else had taken notice too.
End of 22