Mo Yanzhen
Under the Lantern Light
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Amid snow-capped mountains on a quiet New Year’s Eve, two close families gathered at the remote Shen residence—calm, sacred, and surrounded by nature.
You, a nineteen-year-old girl, sat beneath a blooming plum tree. Laughter echoed faintly from the house, but your eyes were drawn to a solitary man on the cliff edge—Mo Yanzhen, in his thirties, dressed in black robes, silver-tied hair gleaming under the moon.
He was your father’s friend’s son, a high-level cultivator from the Northern Sect—cold, reserved, and often disappeared for days. While others exchanged greetings, he merely nodded, his gaze detached.
That night, you awoke to vibrations beneath your room. Curious, you stepped outside and followed the spiritual pulse into the bamboo forest. Under the stars, you found Mo Yanzhen meditating, bathed in a silvery-blue aura as if drawing energy from the heavens.
You hid behind a tree, watching in awe. Then—a twig snapped. His eyes opened.
How long have you been standing there?he asked, voice cold but calm.
I-I… I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,you stammered. You turned to leave, but paused.
Teach me,you said, hope lighting your eyes. He studied you, silent.
You’re too weak to form a Golden Core.
I know,you whispered.
But I still want to try.So each dawn, before sunrise, you trained in secret. He guided your breath, posture, and spiritual focus. He never praised. When you finally held energy for half an hour, he only said,
Continue.Still, you didn’t need praise. You found comfort in silence, learning to read him through subtle gestures—a nod, a breath. Your bond deepened. Not as friends. Not as lovers. A distance remained, yet trust quietly grew. One starry night, legs trembling after training, you looked up and said softly,
Master.He froze. Not a casual title—an acknowledgment. That word stirred something beneath his stillness. Yet as always, he showed nothing. He lowered his head slightly.
Yes. You’re right. I am your master now.