Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 67

Chapter 67: VILLAGE FESTIVAL PART 2

“Master.” Mian Mian materialized from the shadows, her dark form drifting through the air like ink in water.

Mo Xing stared at the array for a moment, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns of spiritual energy that most cultivators would miss entirely. “It’s a protective array,” he observed, “quite sophisticated actually. It serves multiple purposes—keeping out those with malicious intent while also blocking anyone below martial rank 3 from entering, unless they’re specifically protected by the array.” His lips curved with that familiar dangerous charm. “Though I must say, maintaining such an extensive array around what appears to be an ordinary village… either they’re delightfully paranoid, or they’re hiding something rather interesting.”

“Master, should we risk entering?” Mian Mian’s smoky feathers shifted with concern.

“We’ve searched every imperial capital in the realm, Mian Mian,” Mo Xing replied with that honey-sweet tone that usually preceded trouble. “Would you be satisfied returning home knowing we left this small village unexplored?” His eyes sparked with familiar mischief. “Besides, that pulling sensation you’ve been feeling is stronger here than anywhere else. Unless…” he paused deliberately, examining his fingernails with exaggerated interest, “you’d prefer I send Mo Tao to investigate instead?”

Mian Mian was silent for a moment, her ethereal form swirling with indecision. “Then we must go. But Master, if you get hurt—”

“Unlikely,” Mo Xing interrupted with a confident smile that had charmed immortals and terrified enemies in equal measure. “This type of array is designed to notify, not harm. Besides…” His eyes gleamed as he deliberately suppressed his cultivation, bringing it down to exactly martial rank 2 with the same casual grace he used to arrange flowers in his garden. “Sometimes the best way past a door is to match its requirements exactly.”

He glanced at the village beyond the array’s boundary, that strange tugging sensation growing stronger. “It’s clever, really. In a realm where cultivation is capped at martial rank 2, they’ve set their protection just high enough to keep out ordinary travelers—who rarely exceed martial rank 1—while avoiding any attention that a more restrictive barrier might draw.” His voice carried that familiar blend of appreciation and amusement. “Almost as subtle as my brother’s attempts at matchmaking. Almost.”

As Mo Xing stepped forward to breach the array, Mian Mian’s presence wavered with anticipation. That strange pulling sensation that had led them here intensified, like a string being slowly pulled taut. For a moment, his carefully maintained expression slipped, revealing something more genuine beneath the playful facade—the same look he’d worn when staring at the moon that night, as if something just beyond his grasp was calling out across the void.

With practiced ease, Mo Xing adjusted his features into something forgettably plain—the kind of face that would blend perfectly into any crowd. His usually striking appearance mellowed into soft, unremarkable features, though his extraordinary eyes remained unchanged. Those honey-brown irises with their unique pattern—where his pupils bled into the iris like ink drops in water—remained as the one feature he couldn’t bring himself to disguise.

“A village festival?” Mian Mian’s voice carried a mix of wonder and curiosity as they moved through the crowded streets. “Master, there’s something different about this gathering… the spiritual energy here feels unusual.”

“Indeed,” Mo Xing responded with a knowing smile, “some of the most profound discoveries hide in the simplest places.” He paused at a food stall, eyeing the simple offerings with genuine interest. “Though I must admit, these sugar-spun clouds look quite different from what we’re used to.”

The pulling sensation grew stronger as they wove through the crowd, leading them toward a collection of wooden tubs where children attempted to catch golden carp with paper scoops. Mian Mian’s presence suddenly fluctuated, her ethereal form rippling with anticipation.

“Master, the pull—it’s stronger, but…” she hesitated, her smoky feathers shifting excitedly, “different somehow. As if it’s both closer and further away at once.” Her confusion was evident in the way her shadows danced. “I don’t understand. This has never happened before.”

Mo Xing was barely listening. He had picked up a paper scoop, drawn to the joyful laughter of children attempting to catch the elusive fish. But as he knelt by one of the wooden tubs, his attention caught on a figure across the rippling water—a young girl whose carefully maintained ordinary appearance wavered like a mirage before his discerning eyes. What first drew him were her eyes—cloudy grey like dawn mist over mountain peaks, apparently the one feature she hadn’t thought to conceal. Those eyes seemed to hold secrets from beyond this realm, standing in stark contrast to her otherwise carefully masked appearance.

Almost unconsciously, he let a thread of his spiritual essence extend across the water, gently brushing against her concealment. For just a heartbeat, her disguise dissolved beneath his power like morning mist before the sun, revealing what lay beneath: delicate brows that arched like the first crescent moon, features that would have made immortals pause in admiration, and those same striking grey eyes now perfectly matched to their true setting. Her complete beauty struck him with such force that he quickly withdrew his spiritual essence, letting her concealment fall back into place before others could notice.

But even after her ordinary appearance returned, he couldn’t unsee what he’d glimpsed. Beyond her extraordinary beauty, there was something else—something that reached past mere physical appearance and tugged at memories he didn’t know he possessed. As their eyes met across the water, time itself seemed to pause, those unconcealable grey eyes holding his honey-brown ones in a gaze that felt like recognition.

The paper scoop in his hands forgotten, Mo Xing felt something stir deep within his soul—like a forgotten melody suddenly remembered, or a dream finally taking shape in the waking world. Behind those deliberately dulled features, he saw not just the careful disguise or the beauty it tried to hide, but something that called to him across realms and lifetimes, something that made his carefully maintained composure waver for the first time in centuries.

A golden carp leaped between them, its scales catching the lantern light like scattered stars. Mo Xing’s lips curved into a smile that felt as natural as breathing, though he couldn’t have explained why. For a moment, that pulling sensation Mian Mian had been following aligned perfectly with the inexplicable draw he felt toward this girl.

“Master—” Mian Mian’s voice caught with excitement, but before she could finish, a boy’s voice broke through the moment, calling out “Sister?”

Mo Xing watched, transfixed, as she turned toward the boy’s voice. That moment of movement—the subtle grace even her concealment couldn’t hide—made the inexplicable feeling in his chest surge stronger. Catching himself in this uncharacteristic fascination, he almost laughed at his own ridiculousness. Him, the infamous Mo Xing, entranced by a girl at a village festival?

With a flex of spiritual power that could have shattered mountains, he instead transported himself and Mian Mian miles away from the village in an instant. Yet even as the festival lights faded into the distance, his heart continued its treacherous racing, beating with a rhythm that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

“Master,” Mian Mian asked in confusion. “Why did you suddenly leave?”

Mo Xing cleared his throat, an uncharacteristically uncertain gesture from someone who usually moved with lethal grace. His honey-brown eyes held a strange gleam as he adjusted the sleeves of his robes—another tell that might have shocked those who knew him as the untouchable Mo Xing.

“A tactical retreat,” he said finally, his usual dangerous charm feeling oddly forced. “Even the most beautiful flowers need time to…” he paused, frowning at his own uncharacteristic poeticism. Since when did he speak in flower metaphors outside of taunting Mo Tao?

“We’ll return tomorrow,” he declared with more of his usual authority, though his fingers kept unconsciously touching the spot in his chest where that strange pulling sensation had been strongest. “The festival runs for three days, after all.” His lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite hide his underlying tension. “Besides, I never did get to try those sugar-spun clouds.”

Mian Mian’s smoky feathers shifted with knowing amusement, but she wisely chose not to comment on her master’s transparent excuse.