Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 206

Chapter 206: ACCEPTABLE TRAVELERS
The first vision materialized with unsettling clarity—a tranquil mountain lake surrounded by ancient pines, its surface perfectly still under moonlight. The peaceful scene shattered as the water suddenly churned, and a figure emerged from its depths—a boy with golden eyes, his form wreathed in darkness, water cascading from his body as he moved with inhuman grace toward the shore. There, a group of robed cultivators waited, their expressions shifting from reverence to horror as they realized something was wrong.

The golden-eyed boy—unmistakably Mo Xing, though with a cold emptiness in his expression Li Hua had never seen—reached the shore and moved among them without hesitation. His hands shot out with terrible precision, grasping necks and throats. The cultivators collapsed one by one, their struggles weakening as he systematically drained them of breath and life. Not a single drop of blood was spilled as he killed them, only the silent horror of suffocation marking their passing. Throughout the slaughter, his expression never changed—his beautiful face remained a mask of perfect, detached serenity.

When the last body fell, he stood motionless among the dead, moonlight revealing intricate patterns etched into his skin—marks that pulsed with obsidian energy before fading into his flesh.

The scene was jarring, revealing a Mo Xing wildly different from the playful, mischievous man who stood beside her now. Yet, instead of pulling away, Li Hua found herself tightening her grip on his hand. The assassin in her—the part that had taken countless lives with cool precision in her previous existence—recognized the calculated efficiency in his movements.

More surprisingly, something deeper within her consciousness whispered that whatever had driven him to such violence must have carried purpose, that Mo Xing would not have extinguished those lives without profound reason. This instinctive defense of him startled her even as she acknowledged it.

His fingers tensed briefly in apparent surprise at her response before returning her grip with equal pressure—a silent exchange of understanding between two beings who had walked darker paths than most would comprehend.

The mist parted to reveal another scene—a torchlit chamber where Mo Xing sat motionless on an obsidian throne, watching as five generations of a powerful clan were systematically destroyed before him. From white-haired elders to small children, the family members knelt in perfect formation, their expressions showing not fear but resigned acceptance, as if they had long expected this judgment. Shadowy executioners moved among them with terrible efficiency while Mo Xing observed, his golden eyes reflecting nothing as each cultivator’s spiritual core was extinguished like a candle in wind.

The patriarch, it seemed, lifted his head to address Mo Xing directly, his final words inaudible through the mist, but Mo Xing’s response carried clearly: “I hope one day you also fall because of the choices you made for your family.” He made no move to intervene or hasten the proceedings, his stillness more chilling than any direct action would have been. When the last child’s eyes closed forever, Mo Xing finally rose, collecting a luminous orb that had formed above the bodies—not their spiritual cores, but something deeper, more fundamental. This he sealed within an obsidian box inscribed with formations beyond Li Hua’s understanding.

His role as witness rather than executioner somehow made the scene more disturbing—suggesting authority beyond merely carrying out violence, a position that allowed him to judge and condemn without needing to stain his own hands. Something about his cold observation struck Li Hua as both horrifying and yet hauntingly necessary, as if she were witnessing not mere extermination but jurisprudence.

She held her breath as the mist swirled again and the possibilities of Mo Xing’s choices materialized into more visions. Just as her own life had shown branching paths untaken, his existence revealed countless forks in an apparently endless road—versions where he had chosen to intervene rather than observe and where attachment had overcome duty. Each alternate path seemed to lead toward different versions of Mo Xing: some gentler, some darker, some entirely consumed by forces Li Hua couldn’t begin to comprehend.

As this final vision faded, the pressure of the Grove’s attention seemed to intensify around them. The mist thickened almost to opacity, swirling so rapidly it created currents that tugged at their robes and hair. For several heartbeats, Li Hua felt suspended between moments, neither advancing nor retreating, simply existing within the Grove’s judgment.

Then, with startling abruptness, the mist collapsed and dissolved into ordinary forest air.

Mo Xing cleared his throat before speaking, “It seems we’ve been granted passage,” he observed, his usual light tone returning, though the tightness in his grip didn’t relent. “The Grove finds us acceptable travelers.”

Li Hua studied his profile, noting the subtle tension in his jaw that hadn’t been present before.

“For what it’s worth,” she offered with deliberate lightness, “I’m still holding your hand.” The simple observation carried more weight than its casual delivery suggested—an acknowledgment that what she had witnessed hadn’t changed her willingness to maintain their connection, a silent promise that his revealed past hadn’t frightened her away.

Mo Xing glanced down at their intertwined fingers, his expression shifting to that playful smile that suggested he’d known all along she hadn’t let go. “So you are, Stormy.” His golden eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. “Most who glimpse those memories find even the thought of touching me… distasteful afterward. Yet here you are, still holding on as if I were any ordinary man.”

“I’ve held death in my hands before,” she replied, unexpectedly laughing as she squeezed his hand harder. The sound was genuine, carrying none of her usual guardedness. Something in the shared horrors they’d witnessed had broken through a barrier between them, allowing a warmth that surprised even her. Perhaps it was the relief of being known—truly known—and not rejected for what had been revealed.

They followed the brightened path in companionable silence, each processing the revelations the Grove had offered. The forest opened gradually around them until they emerged into a perfectly circular clearing dominated by a massive ancient tree at its center.

At the tree’s base sat Elder Fu, cross-legged on a natural platform formed by exposed roots. His eyes opened as they approached, a flicker of surprise crossing his weathered features before settling back into their usual calm assessment.

“Disciples,” he acknowledged with a slight nod. “You’ve navigated the Grove with unexpected speed.”

Li Hua bowed respectfully, Mo Xing following with a more casual inclination of his head. “The path revealed itself clearly, Elder,” Li Hua responded, carefully neutral about what they had experienced.