Chapter 11: Rejection Syndrome

"........."

The air seemed to have frozen in stillness.

Xu Yuan slowly turned his head, gazing at the woman by his side.

The name, slightly familiar, sent a shiver down his spine with Ran Qingmo's fresh, untouched gaze—so pure, so untouched.

He suddenly understood the source of the pain that had seared through his bones before he lost consciousness.

Exclusion Syndrome.

Absurd. Helpless. A flicker of recognition.

[When the realm reaches its origin, one enters through martial discipline—bloodshed can restore the body, making it indestructible. Through Qi, the mind and spirit solidify, allowing one to transcend and steal souls.]

This world can take over a body, but who could have imagined that such a cross-world journey would grant him an Exclusion Syndrome?

Only the howling wind remained, and the vast snowy plain lay utterly silent.

Xu Yuan remained silent for a moment, speaking softly:

"Exclusion Syndrome?"

Ran Qingmo looked at Xu Yuan, nodded:

"Hm."

Xu Yuan narrowed his eyes, offered a vague, light laugh:

"Mr. Ran, what do you mean by that?"

Ran Qingmo met Xu Yuan's gaze directly, stating:

"You're not Xu Changtian."

"........" Xu Yuan.

Her voice remained calm, as if recounting something as ordinary as the wind on a quiet morning.

The speculation swirling in his heart was now spoken aloud by the other. Perhaps it was the fog of prolonged unconsciousness, but at this moment Xu Yuan found himself not panicked at being exposed.

Before him now lay only two paths.

To confess—or to deny.

If he denied, what excuse could he concoct to deceive the other?

If he confessed, what would be the consequences?

A long silence followed.

Xu Yuan slowly rose to his feet, taking a water pouch from beside him and pouring a mouthful of Yanling liquid into his own cup to warm himself. He lifted his gaze toward the towering peak above, then, under the moonlight, glanced once more at the endless expanse of coastline stretching beneath the mountain.

In the four days he had been unconscious, Ran Qingmo and that great white tiger had somehow dragged him all the way up to the midsection of Tianmen Mountain.

With a rough outline now formed in his mind, Xu Yuan turned back to Ran Qingmo and spoke softly,

"Does it matter to you whether I am indeed Xu Changtian?"

There was no denial. Xu Yuan calmly admitted it.

Ran Qingmo only needed a living Xu Changtian—a third son capable of threatening the chancellor—but the specifics of how he lived were irrelevant.

And indeed, the other party must have already considered this, otherwise how could they have brought the unconscious man along, following the original route to Tianmen Mountain?

Ran Qingmo pondered seriously for a moment, then shook her head:

"It doesn't matter. But why don't you understand cultivation?"

As she spoke, a flicker of genuine confusion and bewilderment passed through her eyes.

The shift in Xu Changtian's character before and after his unconscious state had been clearly explained—but if this man was clearly a soul transplant, a rebirth, why did he appear so infantile when it came to cultivation?

Xu Yuan held the water pouch and sat beside Ran Qingmo, his heartbeat steady. He slowly pointed to his own head and spoke calmly:

"Because my memories are fragmented—so many things are scattered and incomplete."

"Even the cave sanctuary you mentioned?"

"Nature."

"What about the things concerning Xu Changtian himself?"

"I don't know. Perhaps my cultivation technique is unique—among these fragmented memories, there are traces of my own past, and unexpectedly, some remnants of Xu Changtian's as well."

"And then... how did you come to know about the Jian Sect's affairs?"

"........"

Upon hearing this, Xu Yuan did not respond further. He merely smiled and shook his head.

"Mr. Ran, didn't we agree not to probe into each other's secrets on this matter?"

"........."

At these words, Ran Qingmo's beautiful eyes, hidden beneath the veil, flickered briefly before finally nodding.

Seeing this, Xu Yuan seized the moment to continue:

"Though you may not hear me, I still want to advise you—one person cannot be swayed by me or Xu Changtian's words."

Looking at Ran Qingmo with a steady gaze, Xu Yuan spoke slowly and deliberately:

"If you truly wish to stop the fall of the Sword Sect, there's a better way. I can help you with it."

The collapse of the Sword Sect is a pivotal plot point in "Cang Yuan." By leveraging Ran Qingmo, Xu Yuan could gain immense advantages.

Yet Ran Qingmo's eyes showed no wavering; they simply stared at him, still and unyielding.

Seeing this, Xu Yuan offered a faint smile, and ceased his persuasion:

"My words will always hold true—if you change your mind, you can always come to me."

Ran Qingmo's refusal was not unexpected.

Though they were now bound together, their positions made it fundamentally impossible for Ran Qingmo to trust him.

He would follow his advice, and go together to that hidden cave, mostly because of Xu Yuan's weak power—something that could not threaten her at all...

A threat?

Wait.

Xu Yuan's thoughts suddenly stalled.

He realized his logic had a flaw.

The premise for traveling to the hidden sanctuary was that his strength was weak and incapable of threatening Ran Qingmo. But the sudden onset of "the Disorder of the Strange" had invalidated that very premise.

At the source of the realm, one enters the realm of Qi, solidifies the will and spirit, and can even leave the body to seize a soul.

Such a being could be said to stand unmatched across the entire world.

If Xu Yuan hadn't made a mistake, at this very moment, Ran Qingmo had not yet reached that level.

The sanctuary Xu Yuan mentioned—his place of concealment—must, in Ran Qingmo's eyes, be the one he left behind.

In other words, in her eyes, Xu Yuan had transformed from a helpless, idle noble boy into a mysterious, dangerous fragment of a soul capable of threatening her.

Xu Yuan stared at the black-clad woman who had once again closed her eyes and entered meditation. A multitude of questions surged within his mind.

Had she not noticed this, or had she noticed it yet chosen to disregard it?

No, Ran Qingmo could not possibly have dismissed it.

Confidence is not arrogance.

The array and seals within the ancestral dwelling of a master who had reached the origin of the realm—now stood as a threat capable of endangering Ran Qingmo’s current state.

If that were true, then why would Ran Qingmo still dare to follow him into his dwelling?

As this thought took root, an ominous foreboding began to rise in Xu Yuan’s heart.

After a moment of silence,

he slowly lowered his gaze to the water pouch in his hand—or rather, to the Yanling liquid within it.

Their partnership had been founded upon the premise that the person behind the Yanling serpent sought his death on the very path Ran Qingmo had taken to seize him.

The thought arose.

Xu Yuan realized,

that during the days he had been unconscious, something must have happened—something that had compelled Ran Qingmo to journey with him to that cave sanctuary.

The moonlight poured down like a waterfall, silent as still water.

"Crack—crack—"

As his thoughts surged, a sound of footsteps on snow drifted from afar. Xu Yuan instantly turned, his breath easing slightly upon seeing who it was.

It was that great white tiger.

But now, this great white tiger was considerably larger than when he first saw it four days prior—seeming to have undergone some kind of transformation. Likely, it had consumed many demonic elixirs trailing behind Ran Qingmo these past days.

Human beings could not directly ingest demonic elixirs, but for beasts of the demonic kind, they were a nourishing elixir of great benefit.

The Great White Tiger raced forward, still clutching a snow wolf over two meters long in its jaws.

Its massive form halted beside Ran Qingmo, gently placing the snow wolf at her feet. With a clumsy, affectionate bump against the hem of her black robe, it cast a disdainful glance at Xu Yuan before refusing the prey altogether, simply lying down beside her and dozing off.

All was still.

Under the moonlight on the snow-capped peaks, the figure in black robe and the towering white tiger formed a harmonious, serene tableau.

Yet Xu Yuan’s gaze remained fixed on the back of the great white tiger.

There,

where he had once sat,

a deep, jagged wound lay plainly visible.