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Chapter Text

The mountain air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine through the breeze. Mist shrouded the simple paved gravel path as a lone figure wearing white walked with unhurried steps. An exceptionally beautiful man looking as if he was carved from the purest of white jade, his dark inky hair swaying with each step. Yet, he looked too ethereal, as if he was gliding rather than walking. The shadow beneath him stretched despite the sunlight being obscured, a fleeting figure of a five-tailed cat appearing before vanishing as quickly as it came.

Chu Wanning liked to think of himself as the guardian of the Yu Mao Temple, though in reality, he was much more than that. Through the centuries, many cats and lesser cat yao came to seek shelter in his temple, asking him for blessings or retribution on the humans and animals that wronged them. As a Great Cat Yao himself, he of course sought justice his whole life. Yet there was something that he, nor the Heavens, could help with. For example, he couldn’t simply change the nature of something. That much was obvious, yet it never failed to fill him with a sense of frustration that radiated from him. If he could do more, get better, stronger… perhaps then he would be able to ease some of the cats’ suffering. Ever since he got “blessed” with sapience, he’d been having these thoughts fill his brain.

But right now, the unremarkable path to the Ku Gou Village that he’d walked a thousand times before seemed to be brimming with tension, right in the morning. He didn’t bother looking at the villagers. He was supposed to be a stranger in their little town. The bamboo basket slung over his back was there not just for its functional purpose but to make himself look more ordinary. A flicker of displeasure came on his brows as he watched the humans walk around and chat with each other. How could they be this nonchalant when they were capable of such terrible violence? He knew the nature of humans well by now, learned it the hard way. He knew the underbelly of this innocuous village – the cruelty that lied beneath.

“Did you hear?” One man, young and lanky, asked the old stall owner selling noodles. “Last night, Old Ping woke up with deep gashes on his arms! And just this morning, his wife suddenly decided he was too ‘unsuitable’ for her needs and left him. Misfortune after misfortune!” Sauce dripped down his chin, which he wiped with the back of his hand.

The stall owner only clicked his tongue in distaste. “What are you worried about, boy? You’re talking as if you’ve seen a demon do it.” Even though he tried to sound skeptical, his eyes held the dread as he spoke those words. “His wife has been gossiping with her sisters for a while now, endlessly complaining. It was only a matter of time.” He deliberately didn’t acknowledge the mention of the cuts.

Chu Wanning’s expression didn’t change, but he felt a sense of satisfaction in his heart. Of course Ping had misfortune befall him. He’d been tormenting a cat that simply wanted to eat the food he threw out, relentlessly chasing it away and beating it with a stick. Helping that tabby that sought aid was only natural. That man’s life will continue to be unfortunate until he learned of compassion.

As Chu Wanning was quietly picking out some chickens at a farmer’s stall, intending to bring them to the temple to breed them and have a sustainable farm, the laughter from a nearby alley snapped him out of his thoughts. Curses and wet thudding flew from it, and before long, a group of teenage boys emerged from the entrance. Chu Wanning’s eyes tracked them. Malicious. The exact look of tormentors. Grins too wide, clothes coated in grime and blood, but it was their words that stuck with him.

“Bah! Stupid mutt really earned it,” one bellowed in pride.

“We’ve saved the village today!” Another one chimed in, looking desperate to be a part of the group. “Imagine that stray becoming a demon. At least now we can sleep soundly.”

Chu Wanning’s lips tightened into lines. Sleep soundly? After that? He waited until the boys were fully out of view, before he swept his sleeves and headed into the alley to see what happened. The sight froze him dead in his tracks.

A dog laid on the ground, right next to a wall. It was impossible to tell what breed it was, since its body was covered in dirt and blood, the fur patchy and torn in parts to reveal red skin. It was probably supposed to be a husky judging by the ears and fur colour underneath, but one ear was torn. The breaths were too rapid, the black eyes closed.

Death, the thought slammed into Chu Wanning’s brain. This creature was on its last breath, body broken and beaten. Chu Wanning never liked dogs, always hated them for being aggressive. Yet this one… it was a different story. The urge to scream and tear apart the cruel humans warred with his discipline to remain unseen. His legs moved without thought, bringing him closer to the dying dog. His gait, usually so steady and sure, made him sway unevenly. His eyes were wide, the brown flickering gold. Now, before the dog, the sight was even more pitiful.

He didn’t know what to do. He was completely helpless himself. The dog’s eye slowly opened. The profound misery in them spoke volumes.

End it.

That was what the dog’s look seemed to say. Put it out of its misery, let it die unloved and alone. It was the look of a creature that was only ever shown suffering.

Chu Wanning’s hands trembled in his sleeves. His hand reached out, wanting to grant that wish, but the shaking made it impossible to even aim. End it. It would be a mercy. But he couldn’t do it. He was too weak to grant it even this mercy. Instead, he did something crueler.

He crouched down, uncaring for the filth now seeping into his robes. His hand that had been extended dropped down. Ignoring the dog’s weak flinch, his palm landed on the only uninjured part – between the ears, on the head. A single pat, however awkward.

“Foolish beast,” Chu Wanning whispered, his voice quivering. It didn’t feel like an insult but… grief. Grief for a kind he hated naturally. The dog’s eyes closed slowly, the broken tail giving a single flick. A wag? “Even you don’t deserve this.” His voice cracked.

The dog’s eyes watered, a single tear escaping, the body’s last response. The shallow, ragged breathing slowly stilled, the life dimming in those eyes. Then, it was utter stillness. The dog had died with this stranger in white patting its head.

Chu Wanning watched for hours, or at least it felt like it. Slowly, he lowered the bamboo basket to the ground, the utter stillness jarring, too silent. He took off his white outer robe and draped it over the husky, granting it some dignity. The pristine fabric was instantly soaked in blood, red blooming against the white. Chu Wanning carefully lifted the body by the flank, feeling the head lolling in the fabric. After placing it in the basket, he slung the straps over his shoulders and lifted the burden. His mind was filled with a singular purpose. To bury.

He headed out of the cursed village, empty-handed except for the carcass he carried. He didn’t go back to the path he usually followed, but veered off to the side. He sought a more tranquil part of the mountain. The scent of peach trees mingled with the stench of blood and death. Beneath an ancient peach tree, Chu Wanning lowered the basket to the ground. He didn’t bring a shovel, of course, so without blinking he knelt to the ground and dug with his hands. Mortal wounds didn’t phase him and time usually flowed like a turbulent river, yet right now he felt each piece of loam in the soft soil, the worms, the tiny rocks that seemed to cut his palms accusingly. Weak. Too weak. It felt like he was kneeling for days, as if to atone for his own helplessness.

The hole was finally big enough. His hands and robes were caked in dirt now as he lifted the covered body from the basket and wiped it down with a talisman from his sleeve, before tying a red string on a paw and placing it in the hole. After covering it up completely, Chu Wanning stepped back. He had dug deeper than intended which would surely deter the scavengers. The old, scarred tree looked like it bent over as if to shield the grave from the Sun, a few petals falling on the disturbed earth. Chu Wanning took a deep breath, willing his voice to be steady.

“You died unloved and unseen,” he murmured into the indifferent noon Sun. His eyes held a depth of resolve as he continued. “Until now. I’ve seen you.” He closed his eyes, trying to drown out the dying breaths that seemed to haunt him. “Walk well.”

His hand, previously having human nails, changed. Claws erupted from his fingers with a shlink, before he carved three lines into the wood to mark the grave. He took a few peach blossoms from the tree and left the sad, lonely site, tucking the blossoms into his sleeve.

He’d reached the Yu Mao Temple by evening and already was assaulted by the relentless meows of cats. A grey mother cat approached him, paws paddling along the ground. She looked up and meowed. Where were you! My kittens are starving.

Another one, a male cat with two tails came over as well, though he let out a thrill of greeting. The other cats, all varying in colour and size, came around to relentlessly meow at him.

The temple was simple and unadorned, built out of sturdy wood that had lasted for centuries. The path was simple gravel which Chu Wanning had painstakingly made himself a long time ago, now filled with weeds peeking through. Chu Wanning sighed and stopped using his illusion spell, changing his appearance. Fluffy white ears appeared on his head, five tails coming out of his back, all lashing out erratically. Eyes, previously brown, became gold and pupils slitted. His fingers were now longer, sheathed claws replacing nails.

“Enough!” He snapped at the cats, creating a stunned silence. He huffed and entered the temple. “If you have grievances, form an orderly line instead of assaulting me at the entrance!”

The interior was equally as simple. The temple was modest in all respects, having only two chambers, but what stood out was the large statue of a cat sitting on its hunches, looking down benevolently. It was made from green jade, weathered and slightly cracked. The tail that was supposed to be raised was broken off, now laying in the corner of the chamber against the wall. The cats finally reluctantly formed a line in front of the statue, dropping offerings that ranged from dead rats and birds to stolen shoelaces and dried leaves, each praying for something, either blessings for themselves or curses to their enemies.

Chu Wanning stood off to the side, but his mind was elsewhere, uncharacteristically distracted. The sneering boys, the dead dog, the human burial. It all swirled in his head like one big fog. It was never easy having to bury. His eyes finally focused on the statue when the last cat finished its prayer, and he walked over to it. He placed a palm on the surface to connect with it spiritually, hearing all the wishes of the cats, his eyes closed. Then, he opened his eyes, now with purpose.

He first left out some fresh beef and chicken into ten bowls outside the shrine for the cats to eat. He went to the well to fetch water in a bucket, before pouring it in one big dish. By the time that was finished, it was nighttime already. He slipped out of the shrine down the winding path to the Ku Guo Village. He was going to hunt. He stalked the humans that had offended the cats, his hands glowing with spiritual energy as he cursed them while they slept. He moved like a ghost through the alleys, slipping in through open windows before jumping out unseen. But this was just one village of many, so he continued his solitary path as a guardian.

The morrow soon came with sunlight peeking out through the trees. Chu Wanning came back to the grave site of that dog that had reminded him of everything he failed at. It was deathly still here, even the sounds of trees rustling absent. Chu Wanning carried a simple bamboo box in his hands and knelt down before the grave. He pulled out three perfectly steamed mantou and placed them in a dish, before taking out peach blossoms he’d air-dried the entire night. With a flick of his wrist, the petals burst into fire, emitting the smell of burnt flowers. He placed them beside the dish with the offerings, letting the smoke waft in the air.

With a murmured prayer for the dog to find peace, Chu Wanning rose and headed back to his temple. He needed a really warm spot to nap all of this off.

That night, a terrible thunderstorm arrived suddenly, as if the Heavens themselves were answering a call.

Why…?

The thunder cracked along the dark sky, rain falling and drenching the streets, drenching many places beneath the mountains. It felt like an apocalyptic flood, as if fissures were created in the sky.

Why?

The sky raged on, dark clouds swirling around a spot – right above the grave of the dog.

I just wanted to be good. Why did this happen? Why am I here?

A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and hit the grave dead on. The energy felt wrong. The earth beneath parted to reveal a beast emerging. Rain hammered down as a husky came out of the ground, the grey and white coat seemingly rejecting the water. It was as big as a horse, but it was its violet eyes that would draw attention, seething with vengeance.

Kill. Kill them. The dog growled lowly, the will cementing. Those humans will pay. All of them will regret the day they ever betrayed me.

The dog moved its huge paws, intending to march off straight for the village. Yet, a certain smell broke that focus. It looked down to see the mantou, soaked completely and the wet ashes. It couldn’t be…

No. I was unloved. Who would ever leave me offerings? The dog yaoguai was confused. It bent its head to sniff the soiled food. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force or ordered by the Heavens, it opened its maw and ate the mantou, the flavors completely muted.

It – or he – had never tasted anything more delicious and tormenting. He felt a torrent of emotions flood him, something he never thought he would experience. He was reborn, doomed to walk the life of loneliness. His paws seemed to burn the ground beneath him as he walked away from the site. A completely aimless existence was what this was, a cruel joke from the Heavens. He didn’t want this, only wanting to die in that alley like the worthless mutt he was. But nobody ever loved him. Why was he buried?

The red string had long since broken off, laying accusingly on the ground as the husky searched for a purpose, or at least for a place to call home. Or vengeance. Or anything.

Chapter Text

The first thing Chu Wanning saw was that the grave was empty. After that storm, the ritual of coming to the grave in the morning was broken. His eyes tracked each detail with growing horror – the dug up ground, the untamed demonic energy that seemed to suck the life out of the nearby grass and trees, the spirit binding string broken.

What have I done?

This had to be a yao. Was the thunder last night a blessing from Heaven, or a curse? Either way, Chu Wanning felt responsible. If that dog went to seek vengeance… Chu Wanning was sure that people would be killed indiscriminately. He had to somehow stop that impending force of doom before it destroyed everything in its path and itself. His thoughts spiraled – if he had just killed the dog, if he didn’t bury it, if he ignored everything… would the result be better? But he couldn’t just leave well enough alone, he always had to meddle.

Now, it would be no different. He turned around quickly, his tails lashing behind him in agitation as he followed the malevolent paw prints on the ground. This was bad, very bad. Were the Heavens turning his life into a cruel joke now?

As the dog was following the scent of civilization, his mind was a mix of blind hatred and a strange spark of discomfort. Leaves wilted away wherever he stepped, the trees rapidly draining of life as he absorbed their essence. He truly was an aimless ghost, haunting the world with its filth. Disgusting tail, smelly breath, demonic fur. It would’ve been better for him to have just died. Perhaps the burial was one final calculated insult, designed to keep him trapped in a life he didn’t want.

But he felt the air change around him, his energy crackling around him like lightning in response. The scent of incense and natural feline smell filled his snout. His head lifted, and a low, demonic growl came through his salivating teeth, like a cornered animal rather than a beast of death.

All he saw was white. This stranger, the one he didn’t quite remember but knew he saw him somewhere before. Chu Wanning stood in his path, his robes and hair fluttering in the breeze. His expression was like ice, as if his gaze alone could freeze hellfire. He looked like a fallen immortal, yet the five tails standing rigidly behind him and the velvety white ears attuned to the dog’s every move showed that he was quite the opposite of divine.

The two stared at each other for what felt like ages, neither of them speaking. Chu Wanning’s tails quivered behind him before he forced them to still, not wanting to show his turbulent emotions.

“Come with me,” Chu Wanning said, a bit too harshly. He internally winced at himself.

The dog only let out another rumble from his large chest, the grey and white fur rising. His stance shifted, giant paws spread wide as he prepared to lunge. It was a blind move, fueled only by resentment. What difference would it make? Let the nameless dog die slowly. He just wanted to lash out against the world.

Chu Wanning sighed quietly to himself, his hands tightening into fists, the claws biting into his palms. “You leave me no choice,” he hissed, the sound utterly cat-like. He jumped towards the other yao, gliding in the air as he settled behind him. The dog whirled around, snarling as he met the cat with a maw open to devour.

Yet, Chu Wanning raised his palm, Yin energy gathering in his palm. The husky’s lunge was frozen halfway, literally. The paws that had just moments ago burned the ground he walked on were locked onto the ground with unbreakable ice. He thrashed and snarled viciously like a dying snake, trying to breathe the consuming fire to destroy the shackles, but it was futile. Like everything he ever did.

The cat yao’s gaze was hard, merciless, the white tails swaying languidly behind him. He took two slow steps towards the captured dog, his own ears relaxed but attentive. “You will not go back to town,” he declared as if it was an imperial decree. “You will come back to Yu Mao Temple with me.” His hand rose and the air distorted around it, creating a collar of white Yin energy around the dog’s neck.

The dog’s eyes widened, feeling as if his powers were contained. No! I don’t want to be caged! He howled and squirmed, before tiring himself out, panting for breath. It felt like a cruel imprisonment. The fury in his eyes held a deeper, primal fear. The energy, fueled by his resentment, felt like it was siphoned away, leaving a gaping void. The helplessness was overwhelming, as if a raft was stolen from a drowning man.

Chu Wanning’s expression was carefully neutral, yet his ears trembled at the dog’s distress. This is necessary, he told himself. He’s too dangerous. I have to contain him. But he couldn’t just kill this beast. What could he do?

He brought the husky back to Yu Mao Temple, the spirit leash feeling too heavy in his hand. Wasn’t this just another form of humiliation? He sighed, trying to shake the thoughts off his head. He squared his shoulders as he went to a smaller hut to the side and opened the door. It was a place he kept tools in and rarely actually entered, so it was perfect for a temporary kennel. The floor was packed earth, the wood sturdy but old and there was one window opposite of the door. To the side there were lined shelves with ropes, hammers and gardening tools. He led the husky yao inside and cast a ward around the hut’s walls, making it into a small cage. It was at least big enough for the dog to pace around comfortably, which he of course did immediately.

Chu Wanning recalled the leash, letting the dog settle in his new “home”. The dog immediately turned to growl at Chu Wanning, baring his fangs uselessly, tail tucked between his legs.

“You will live here,” he said. He didn’t mention that he wanted this to be a temporary arrangement until the husky calmed down. He needed some time to think of what he could do about this new and unpredictable responsibility. Even he couldn’t just leave this creature to live for centuries stuck in a single hut. It would’ve been a worse indignity than anything the dog had experienced.

But he was a Guardian of this temple. Even if he had to be cruel, he had to ensure safety for the residents here and the dog himself. So, with that, a decision was made.

The husky still stood, fearful and angry. But also unnamed. Chu Wanning’s golden eyes bore down on the dog, suddenly making it feel smaller. “Tomorrow, you will be assigned to your duty,” Chu Wanning announced, his voice severe. “You will cultivate.”

The husky’s eyes widened, the violet briefly flickering. Cultivate? Me? Is this cat crazy? A confused whuff left him, head tilting slightly and emotions briefly doused. But the fury came back quickly as he snarled. Why would I want to follow this stupid cat? He trapped me in here!

Chu Wanning didn’t speak anymore. He turned around and left the hut, closing the door behind him. This would have to be a gamble he hated he had to take. Something to allow this creature to have autonomy and power, but in a way that wouldn’t be dangerous. As he walked back the short distance to the shrine, a word kept repeating in his mind. Nameless. A nameless yao…

He opened the door of the temple, yet again greeted by the sight of cats insolently sleeping on the statue, shedding fur all over it. His tails whipped behind him, ears pinning to his head as he stormed inside. “Off! Off, all of you!” The cats even had the gall to ignore him! Ungrateful brats!

A sleek black cat yao hopped out from the shadows, the three tails swaying behind him. In his mouth was a thin scroll which he set down at Chu Wanning’s feet, pawing at it.

Chu Wanning bent down and took the scroll. “Thank you, Shi Mei,” he said, finally calmer. “The reports, right?”

The black cat rose slowly on his hunches, before rapidly transforming in white mist. A man stepped out from the mist, slightly taller than Chu Wanning, with those black ears up and relaxed, the three black tails brushing against the floor. His robes were a soft blue, and those gentle green peach blossom eyes carefully averted. He cupped his hands and murmured, “Yes, Shizun. The Rufeng Sect has been acting more bold. They’ve heard reports of demonic cat curses in the nearby areas and have sent out cultivators to investigate.”

Shi Mei lifted his gaze just slightly, his tails giving a questioning sweep across the ground, kicking up dust. “I heard a… commotion outside when you came in. Is everything – ?”

“Do not worry about that now, Shi Mei,” Chu Wanning replied before Shi Mei could finish. He turned to the jade statue of the cat deity, Yanming. “The illusion barriers will need to be fortified around the temple. We cannot allow those cultivators to step foot near Yanming.” He took out a cloth from his sleeve and flung it at the cats resting on Yanming’s paws, finally making them bolt away from the statue. “Take Xue Meng with you tonight. Make sure the humans don’t see you.” His voice dropped. “Be smart and discreet.” And be safe.

Shi Mei bowed in supplication, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Yes, Shizun. We will make sure the perimeter is safe.” He straightened and headed out of the temple, his calling chirps echoing as he called Xue Meng.

Alone with the statue, Chu Wanning took to wiping off the filth to give Yanming the respect he deserved. Yet, he was terrible at cleaning. Why was it harder than cultivation? He only seemed to smudge the jade, or his claws accidentally scratched the rock, causing streaks of white against the green. Chu Wanning’s brows furrowed as he glared down at his claws. Even sheathed, they still managed to ruin the perfect statue. He looked over at Yanming’s broken tail, his eyes darkening.

In a few strides he crossed the space and touched the cold tail. “This lowly servant apologises,” he murmured as his thumb brushed against the jade. “Even my Tribulation was destructive.”

What a disaster. The lightning had somehow hit Yanming’s tail and broken it off a century ago during a Heavenly Tribulation and Chu Wanning was never able to fix it. It felt like blasphemy.

At night, on top of the temple and bathed in moonlight, Chu Wanning sat in a lotus position, his eyes closed in meditation. He absorbed the Yin energy from the moon, becoming one with it. However a howl pierced right through that focus, making him feel as if he ran into a brick wall.

“AWOOOO!”

An irritated slam of one of his tails sounded against the roof’s tile. Chu Wanning stood up, his gaze cold at that hut. That dog is trying to disrupt my cultivation? His ears trembled with suppressed rage. He hopped down from the roof, landing easily on his feet as he crossed the distance with the hut. His hand was already on the door handle, and as he opened it, he hissed, “Be quiet, dog! You – “

But whatever he was going to say clogged in his throat. The husky sat looking at the moon as if in mourning, his violet eyes now dimmed to a black. He threw his head back and howled again for so long that he ran out of breath, having to gulp down the air.

Then, a whimper escaped him.

Chu Wanning’s hands trembled by his sides. His ears pinned back, tails rigid behind him. This husky seemed completely miserable… alone. Just like Chu Wanning felt himself.

He didn’t yell again and approached the dog from behind. “The moon won’t give answers,” he murmured, his voice still hardened, but holding an awkward reassurance. He looked at the dog’s fluffy coat, the Yin collar starkly white. I did this. I have to fix it.

The husky didn’t react to him and lowered down with a huff. Chu Wanning’s eyes traced that big body, wondering how soft that fur was to touch. But he scowled the second that thought came. Stupid.

What could he even say to this dog? He couldn’t simply give empty lies. So, his body decided before his mind could process it. He slowly lowered to the ground and sat beside the dog. The silence was awkward, yet charged. He couldn’t really do anything but keep him company. Chu Wanning could easily walk back outside and continue meditation, but he chose to stay.

Then, the dog felt Chu Wanning put something down beside his head. He looked at it and saw a piece of fried chicken breast. He knew he smelled it on Chu Wanning, but he didn’t know he would get anything. He looked up at the cat as if confirming what was happening.

Chu Wanning had averted his eyes, now looking through the window at the moon. His tails were neatly tucked under him, white and fluffy like pillows. The dog slowly reached out to take the chicken breast as if he was stealing it from under Chu Wanning’s nose.

This was his first time being fed.

The meat disappeared in his mouth as quickly as it arrived, devoured as if it was a delicacy. He dropped his head to rest between his paws, not even realizing that he’d fallen asleep in the presence of that cat yao.

Chapter Text

Life with that dog was chaotic at best. The next morning when Chu Wanning took the husky out of the shed, he brought him to a waterfall near the back of the shrine. It was rich in spiritual energy and perfect for cultivating. If only the dog would listen. He sat on the rock, though he looked very unimpressed with the scene.

Chu Wanning paced before him, his tone lecturely. “There are many ways to cultivate your demonic core. The one we use here is absorbing Yin and Yang essence from the Sun and Moon. It will take you centuries to cultivate human form.”

He suddenly spun around to face the dog and snapped, “Are you even listening?”

The husky’s head was turned towards the waterfall. But his eyes? The disrespect was clear. The side-eye was nasty, making Chu Wanning’s tails rigid. The dog was refusing to even face him completely! And those eyes looked like they judged Chu Wanning’s entire existence!

Chu Wanning let out an involuntary growl from his throat, something he immediately regretted and pretended didn’t happen. His tails thrashed behind him, the force rocking his body. “Fine,” he hissed as he approached the dog with slow, menacing steps. He stopped before him and pointed to the dog’s fluffy chest. “If you’re bored with theory, then try cultivating. Close your eyes and absorb the sunlight.”

The dog did indeed close his eyes, though he struggled to actually cultivate, though he didn’t really get it. He only felt the benign warmth. What was he supposed to do? Not only did this cat capture him, now he was expecting him to train?

Chu Wanning’s eyebrow twitched and he had to strain himself to keep his expression neutral. “That,” he said as his palm reached out to the husky’s chest. “Is why you follow instructions.”

The dog flinched from the hand, ears pinning to his head as he growled, eyes snapped open. The primal fear was ingrained from his mortal life. His whole body stiffened as he rose, as if not seeing Chu Wanning but the sneering humans who had tormented him. It was a violation that ran deeper than just the collar and captivity.

Chu Wanning’s heart stopped for a moment and he snatched his hand back immediately. The sight of this dog feeling as if he was always doomed to be scorned gave him a maddening wave of sorrow and righteous rage. If only I had been faster back then…

“I was just going to give you some demonic energy,” he said steadily, though he was unable to hold back his frown. His fingers felt around the collar of his robe subconsciously to ground himself against the threatening wave of unwanted feelings. He took a step back, his tails still utterly. His hands awkwardly hovered in the air, completely unsure of what he should do.

So, instead, he continued teaching the dog from a distance, taking a step back. He droned on about the meridian points and the methods of meditation, his voice easy to tune out. The husky slowly relaxed and sat back down on his hunches, though he was now silently listening. Or perhaps just watching carefully.

By the time the sun set, the training was unproductive. Chu Wanning had to attend to the shrine, so he put the dog back in the hut. However, the other residents didn’t take too well to a dog around them. As the husky laid down and chewed on a handle of a shovel, he heard scratching outside the window.

Cats. Of course. They were at the window, peering down at him. A sleek black cat was watching curiously, three tails swinging behind him, while the other orange tabby seemed to glare daggers at him, the two tails bristling. The two pairs of green eyes scrutinized this new arrival.

Shi Mei turned to the orange cat yao, Xue Meng. “Shizun didn’t want us to come near him,” he reminded. “Let’s go back, Shidi. We still have to report…”

HISSSSSSK!

Shi Mei let out a little sigh. “Do you have to hiss at him?”

The husky looked up at them. Xue Meng had already pawed at the window and managed to open it. Jumping down right in front of the big, scary dog, he rose to his full, tiny and angry height, fur standing on their ends. “Filthy dog!” he sneered, lips peeling back to reveal sharp teeth. “You dare pollute our temple with your canine stink?”

Shi Mei peered down, his eyes tracking Xue Meng and the dog with increasing worry. How am I going to explain this to Shizun?

But the husky didn’t even rise. He merely lifted his paw and pressed it against his snout as if to block out Xue Meng’s scent. His eyes looked completely disinterested. The wordless disrespect made Xue Meng growl in frustration. The cat bluffed a lunge, slamming his paws on the ground. Flinch, you dog! I’m big and scary!

The husky didn’t move. Xue Meng was quite frustrated, his hiss turning into a low yowl. “Get out! Our temple, our territory!” He took a step forward, the energy turning heated as he readied for a true lunge. The dog growled, his body tensing as he prepared to meet the demonic cat.

Shi Mei had to deescalate, so he hopped down between the two, his presence feeling like a sword slicing through the tension. He sat on his hunches and looked at the husky. “Calm down,” he murmured, addressing them both. Xue Meng’s focus was broken as he stared at Shi Mei in disbelief. Shi Mei’s tails swayed in a hypnotic slow motion like withering serpents.

“Shizun clearly doesn’t want this one to be injured yet,” he said to Xue Meng, his voice firmer. “You wouldn’t want to cause him trouble, right? He would definitely be displeased.”

Xue Meng’s bravado was deflated like a balloon. The fur slowly fell back down as he tore his gaze away from Shi Mei’s back in shame. “It’s just… Shizun spent the whole day today with him…”

Shi Mei stood and carefully approached the dog, who was attentively watching them. He sniffed the air, before his tails rose, curling in the air like three question marks. “Please don’t mind him. If Shizun welcomes you, so do we. Yanming is benevolent towards yaoguai of all forms.”

The dog’s ears perked up. How was it that they could speak but he couldn’t? His head rose, now with curiosity rather than the suffocating tension of earlier. He sniffed Shi Mei back, smelling the serene kindness that made his tail quirk up. This cat wasn’t so bad. He was the first one who was decent towards him. He wasn’t the icy white cat or the territorial ginger one, but a friend. So, he tried speaking. “Whuff.”

“I’m Shi Mei, and that over there is Xue Meng,” the black cat said. Obviously, those weren’t their true names. Yao would never give those out to others as it would cripple their powers immediately. But they had to refer to each other as something. He made a circle around himself before sitting down.

Xue Meng released a petulant breath and slowly approached the dog, sniffing his paw. Got to make sure he won’t bite the hand that fed him. His twin tails gave a twitch as he felt the simmering rage and shackled demonic energy. He sat down beside Shi Mei protectively. “You can’t even speak. How do you think you can understand cultivation?” He puffed out his small chest, the white fur over his underside shining in the setting sun. “Hmph. I don’t even need those foundational scrolls. They’re just gathering dust.” His tails lashed out against the ground with a thump-thump. “You might as well use them and make yourself useful. Shizun shouldn’t have to constantly hover around you. He already has enough duties without a mutt like you.”

The husky lifted his head in interest. He stared unnervingly at Xue Meng, making the cat’s eyes turn away from the eager dog. Shi Mei’s tail closest to Xue Meng brushed against the orange cat’s side. “That’s a good idea, then. He could really use it.”

The two decided on it and left the hut. Over the course of the next few weeks, Shi Mei delivered the scrolls for the dog to read. But when the pup was bad at it, Shi Mei didn’t chastise him for it. He simply read the text out for him, explaining it patiently after sunset. The contrast was quite sharp. When Chu Wanning taught, it was as if he was constantly punishing the dog, setting impossible standards and was impatient when he didn’t meet them. The dog didn’t like him at all, he preferred the slick black cat’s kindness.

He was progressing. He had finally figured out how to absorb Yang essence from the light and spent days outside on the spiritual rocks to cultivate. His body glowed a soft gold glow, making him feel sharper and more intelligent. Yet, Chu Wanning never praised him. Never even approved. He only ever wanted more from him. The animosity burned into the dog’s mind. He looks down on me. He hates that I’m a stray.

I hate him.

He was never enough, clearly. So he didn’t care to try. As Chu Wanning was carefully arranging incense beside the statue, he heard excited panting outside. He had a bad feeling about it, so he went to the courtyard to see what was happening.

The damn dog was out there, digging a burrow in the garden of medicinal plants Chu Wanning himself had planted. Plants were uprooted, flowers crushed, and the husky was covered in dirt while his paws kicked the earth from under him. The hole was a hazard too – what if someone slipped and fell into it?

“Stop that!” Chu Wanning shouted as he stormed towards the dog. The hellhound only turned around, his grey fur long forgotten under the brown of the loam. Chu Wanning grabbed the Yin collar, yanking the dog out of the hole and making him yelp. The husky instinctively snapped his teeth at Chu Wanning, but the cat yao grabbed his muzzle and held his mouth closed with his other hand.

“Enough! You will not make chaos here anymore,” Chu Wanning hissed, his ears pinning to his head. “You’ll learn to respect your elders.”

The husky growled lowly like a rabid mutt, thrashing in that iron grip. He wanted to rip this cat’s throat out. How dare you keep me here!? I won’t forgive you! He was constantly disobeying from the impotence, either howling at the Moon to disrupt Chu Wanning’s cultivation or knocking down sacred objects and digging burrows. How was he going to get revenge if he was stuck in this temple?

Suddenly, alarm bells sounded from inside. Xue Meng came running towards Chu Wanning, turned into his humanoid form. His green eyes were wide with alarm, orange ears pinned to his head. “Shizun! Intruders are at the temple!”

Chu Wanning’s expression hardened into steel. Even the dog stopped his struggles. “Rufeng Sect?”

Xue Meng nodded, his tails standing rigid with attention. “Yes. Orders, Shizun?”

How did they find us? Turning around to the cats assembling up front, he barked out clearly, “Form a defensive barrier array. The other half of you, come with me to meet the enemy.” He paused and said to Shi Mei who was approaching in his humanoid form. “Take the dog to the hut. Do not let him go outside.”

Shi Mei nodded gravely and when Chu Wanning let the husky go, he bent and said softly, “Come, let’s go back inside to safety.”

Chu Wanning had already left with the other yao to the front. He looked like a war banner, leading his soldiers to battle. The ambush was well-organized, with cultivators surrounding the temple. Chu Wanning had changed into a form of a white five-tailed cat, larger than the others, the size of a lynx. He cast a large array, trapping the cultivators in its radius to keep them from advancing. His tails reached out like tendrils, his eyes glowing in the light.

“The demons are here!” One of the cultivators shouted. “Talismans!”

The yaoguai were spell-casters depending on demonic energy, but spiritual weapons and talismans were their weaknesses. Spiritual energy clashed with the demonic, sending shockwaves through the area and snapping trees. Chu Wanning’s energy slashed through the cultivators cleanly, cleaving a path of carnage, blood spraying on his usually pristine fur. Xue Meng was right beside him, sending a cultivator that tried to ambush Chu Wanning flying, his teeth digging out his throat.

Yet, the pained yowls and shouts around them felt like a growing tide, the swarm of humans overwhelming them and pushing them back. Chu Wanning was busy with the cultivators in front of him that he didn’t register something flying towards him. It was too late when he whirled around and an arrow embedded itself into his hind leg. The pain shot up his spine, making him stumble in his steps. But he didn’t let out a sound, instead he poured his demonic energy into tendrils which skewered the cultivators in front of him. He panted for breath, his eyes squinting in suppressed pain. He wouldn’t let the humans destroy his sanctuary.

Yet, the shrieks of the people sounded from behind him. “Fuck! What is this thing!?” One shrieked. The humans retreated in fear slowly, yet were relentlessly chased down by a grey blur, their throats and hearts savagely ripped out with teeth and claws.

It’s that dog! The husky was looking more like a wolf now, his energy unleashing as the bloodlust drew him to battle. He hadn’t listened to Shi Mei at all, instead he broke his collar with a surge of Yang power and went to join the fight. But he didn’t look like he was defending. He looked like he was going on a carnage. His lips pulled back ferally, letting out a snarl that seemed to stop both the yao and the humans dead in their tracks. Blood dripped down his jaws, along with clumps of flesh. The violet eyes gleamed as he shot out with the speed of lightning, absorbing the cores of the fallen humans. Dark smoke rose from their bodies only to float into the dog’s chest.

Chu Wanning’s eyes widened, dread coiling in his gut, hot and corrosive. The hound was losing control, his demonic core threatening to leech life from the other cats and the remaining cultivators, which quickly started fleeing from this new threat. Chu Wanning, uncaring of the arrow, leaped toward him, stopping the dog in his tracks. The oppressive energy up close was suffocating, making Chu Wanning feel as if his own core was leaking energy like a cracked vessel. The dog’s eyes turned to him, his mouth opened wide in a parody of a smile.

“Chu Wanning,” the hound ground out, sounding as if his voice was coming from everywhere at once. He took a step forward, his paws burning the grass beneath him. “Are you going to kill me now?” He would consume the cat’s core if he wanted to, then get revenge for his suffering.

Chu Wanning’s hind leg felt like nothing in comparison to the agony of hearing the dog’s venomous words. He was at fault for this. This dog couldn’t be left to create havoc and destruction.

So, he lunged.

The ice from his spell hit against the dog’s fire, the two colliding in a clash of power. The hound cursed by heaven and the cat that cultivated for centuries. They circled each other, the dog’s jaws snapping dangerously close to Chu Wanning’s throat, but he was repelled by the demonic energy from the cat yao.

The dog only seemed to grow stronger and faster, sneering. “Your cage will not hold me, Chu Wanning! After I get rid of you, I will destroy that filth!”

Chu Wanning’s ears were pinned to his head as he dodged, the husky constantly targeting the injured hind leg. He was already exhausted from the battle, and the other cats were either injured or unable to intervene. He saw Xue Meng out of the corner of his eyes, yelling something yet going unheard. He was unable to even come close as the blasts flung him back.

He had to use that tool which he didn’t ever want to use. He jumped back, creating space, his hind leg lifting off the ground automatically as blood spilled freely. He leveled the dog with a fierce glare. The hound spread out his paws. “What? Can’t even speak to me anymore?” The dog growled. “You seemed so enthusiastic before. Don’t tell me now it’s too much for you.”

The inky smoke of absorbing energy drew Chu Wanning’s eyes. So, he whispered something into the Heavens. Something that felt like it slammed into the hound more than any spell.

“Mo Ran.”

The dog’s eyes widened as the name branded him. He felt a weight slam him down, blood seeping through his mouth that was now his own. The body felt as if it was under shackles far stronger than before.

Do not disobey. Do not hurt him. Do not stray.

Branded.

An earth-shattering howl left his lips, his bones feeling as if they were being rearranged violently. Every muscle screamed, and bones elongated like they were being pulled apart by giants. The fur receded, his paws turning into hands. His chest heaved, the muscles trembling. He was being turned into a human form forcefully, the sickening crunch of bones aligning filling the space between his harsh breaths. His long hair fell around his face, covering his hands that now dug into the ground. He spat a mouthful of blood.

Chu Wanning’s core was depleted before the transformation could fully complete, leaving Mo Ran the tail and ears. He staggered back, his chest heaving. He saw black dots in the corner of his vision which he furiously blinked away.

The tether bound them together with the demonic pact. The relationship between owner and slave established under the watchful eyes of the gods above.

Mo Ran slowly looked up, his face marred with tears of rage and hatred, twisting his features into one of a malevolent ghost. “Chu… Wanning!” He spat the name like a curse.

Chu Wanning approached slowly, his fatigue evident in the limp even as his steps were light and graceful. “Mo Ran,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. In a blink, he was in his humanoid form again, the arrow lodged in his thigh.

I’m sorry. I had to. Please don’t hate me.

Chapter Text

A hush came over the battlefield. Chu Wanning’s breath was heavy as he looked down at the bare Mo Ran on the floor. For this moment, it seemed like they were alone despite being surrounded by others. Mo Ran felt like he could feel too much, see too much. His senses were violently upturned, the tactile assault of the wind and the fading sun on his now hairless body making him shiver even more than the lingering pain of the transformation. Yet despite that, he wasn’t fully human either. It seemed like his whole life, he always tried to fit in places he didn’t belong. The other strays never liked him, the humans scorned him and the other yaoguai found him pathetic. What was he supposed to do? Nobody ever told him what he’d done wrong. He was always too dumb to understand.

A whoosh came from the crowd of cat spirits. Xue Meng’s face was contorted in blind, protective outrage, and he leapt out of his spot, his palm aimed right at Mo Ran. But before he could even make contact with the treacherous dog, Chu Wanning’s stance shifted as fluidly as water as he stepped between Mo Ran and Xue Meng. With no other choice, Xue Meng was forced to pivot his hand to the side of Chu Wanning’s hand, his feet skidding across the ground as he forced his momentum to stop.

“Shizun!” Xue Meng bellowed, his voice cracking under the weight of his fury. He quickly retracted his hand, yet he still looked feral as he thought of the dog. He never wanted to go against Chu Wanning like this, yet he found himself unable to keep pretending like he was fine with this dangerous being in their temple. The other spirits felt a similar hatred brewing too within their hearts, their eyes turning onto that miserable heap on the floor. Why was Chu Wanning defending this dangerous creature?

Chu Wanning didn’t flinch even as Xue Meng’s demonic energy sliced the air beside his head, making his hair flap behind him. His voice didn’t raise, yet it resonated like a gong. “You are going against my orders, Xue Meng.”

Xue Meng’s rage was doused like a flame under the crushing weight of Chu Wanning’s expression. The disapproval was something he hadn’t seen in decades. It was worse than shouting or punishment. He took a step back, his lip trembling. “No, Shizun, I – “

A tired sigh left Chu Wanning, completely inaudible to anyone but himself. “You will gain nothing from attacking him while he’s down.” He turned to the others, his eyes pinning them in place.

“His fate is not up to you to decide.”

A cough sounded behind him, and he whirled around to look. Mo Ran was coughing up the remaining bile on the floor until nothing but clear fluid came. His tail was tucked between his legs, his expression completely shattered. He was practically no better than a slave now.

Everyone was back at the temple, the wounded being tended to in a room that was small for humans, but definitely big enough to be an infirmary for the cat spirits. Chu Wanning went to his own quarters to tend to himself, though now, there was a shadow bound to him at all times. The dog named Mo Ran.

Mo Ran had to recover from his own transformation too, so he had to stay still and meditate even though eating demonic and spiritual cores would’ve been a much faster method of healing. His body was a bit gaunt, his skin looking an unhealthy grey, and his hair tangled and messy. It didn’t help that he had to wear those blue robes of cheap cotton that chafed against his skin. Those dimples that would’ve been charming on someone else, on him just looked like they were pits of hatred instead. In a small act of defiance he could manage without the binding boiling his blood, he sat in the corner far away from the offending cat. He could lick his wounds now and plot revenge later. When he looked up, he found that Chu Wanning was behind a paper screen depicting fierce tigers flying in the clouds. Heh. Is that how these stuck-up cats see themselves?

It was already nighttime, the moonlight high in the air as if bearing judgement to the scene. Chu Wanning’s silhouette was visible through the screen, the black shadow stark against the warm amber glow of the room. The room was a mess of scrolls, artifacts and other sacred junk that had just gathered dust for who-knows how long. But Mo Ran’s gaze was fixed on that person on the other side, scrutinizing intensely.

Chu Wanning had removed his heavy robes, letting them pool around his waist, showing a surprisingly slight and slim figure than the monster Mo Ran was imagining would be under that fabric. With his hair down, Chu Wanning looked more like an alluring consort than an aloof yao. Mo Ran felt as if he could feel that hair in his hands, making his fingers tighten for a moment with the imagination. Chu Wanning’s trousers were hiked up, exposing the wound on his thigh which he clumsily bandaged, those thin fingers that were so sure while handling Mo Ran’s outbursts looking like a confused mess.

“A-choo!”

Chu Wanning sneezed as the dust entered his nose, his fluffy ears twitching. Mo Ran already guessed that Chu Wanning’s face developved a flustered flush, that cold face was probably scowling at himself. A huff left Mo Ran’s lips, suppressing the chuckle of satisfaction of seeing such a, in retrospect, tiny disgrace. His tail twitched, giving a weak thump on the cheap cushion between his legs.

“What are you laughing at?” Chu Wanning turned, his tails already bristling with indignity.

Unexpectedly, Mo Ran decided then and there to play nice. “Nothing,” he said, his tone light like a breeze. “I wasn’t laughing. I just wanted to cough.”

Chu Wanning waited for a moment as if expecting something more, before turning back to his body to tend to it. “Then cough. Why are you holding back?”

“I wouldn’t want to contaminate your orderly territory,” Mo Ran replied, his grin wide. “Chu Wa – Shizun.”

Chu Wanning jolted. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? You were the one who taught me what it means to be a dog spirit.” Mo Ran leaned in and said again, “Shizun. Master? Overlord?”

A sigh left Chu Wanning, utterly done with dealing with Mo Ran’s provocations. “Shizun is fine.” Just shut up.

Mo Ran was sated with that reaction, finding it quite delightful. Any reaction was enough. If he couldn’t kill Chu Wanning outright, he might as well annoy him. “Venerable Shizun, I have a question. It’s a little thing, really.”

Chu Wanning didn’t feel like entertaining him anymore. “Save your questions, Mo Ran. Ask them to Shi Mei.”

“Why do you have a stump on your back?”

Chu Wanning’s blood instantly turned cold, his previously lashing tails completely stilling.

Mo Ran pressed on, the reaction only fueling him. “That’s weird. I noticed earlier when you were standing in front of me that you have five tails, but it was as if there was a sixth one that was just a pathetic stump, almost invisible unless you look really closely.” His tone turned into a derisive, malicious drawl. “Why would that be?”

In a second, Chu Wanning came out from behind the screen, his expression one of cold fury. His hands tugged on his robe, closing it before he could be fully seen. His ears were completely flattened to his head, face flushed from anger, tails striking at anything around him, knocking over one of the few scrolls that were actually on the desk down to the ground. “Are you tired of living, Mo Ran?” he hissed. A low, almost inaudible growl rose in his throat.

Mo Ran held up his hands in mock-surrender. “I was just curious, Shizun. I’m new to this world, you know. I really don’t know what that means.” But the look in his eyes was one of pure satisfaction despite his words. Who managed to cut off one of your tails, hm?

Chu Wanning stuffed his hands in his sleeves so that Mo Ran wouldn’t see them tremble. He felt like a complete mess, his expression frozen as the memories flooded his mind like a parasite. A shaky exhale left his mouth. “You are only trouble,” he concluded. He turned around and picked up a scroll, pretending to scrutinize it.

Mo Ran shrugged and closed his eyes again. “Sorry, Shizun. Unfortunately, the Heavens bound me to be near you at all times once you named me. I was just trying to get to know you better. The others hate me even more than you do anyway.”

Chu Wanning, however, was focused on the scroll for some reason, his expression wooden as always. Mo Ran though he would retort or at least have the decency to stop pretending to read, so he slowly cracked an eye open to look. Since he couldn’t read, he only looked at the diagrams.

Hmm… very interesting.

The diagram showed a tiger spirit licking another’s cut on the stomach, and in the next picture the other tiger’s wound healed. Mo Ran’s eyes immediately locked onto Chu Wanning’s injured thigh, the bandages already coming loose which were visible from the hole in the trousers. Would that work?

Actually, the better question was – why was he thinking about that at all?

Chu Wanning caught Mo Ran peeking at the scroll and hastily closed it, tucking it away on a shelf, sending dust scattering. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he said and leaned back against the wall. “Your bandages are coming loose.”

Chu Wanning’s gaze immediately dropped to his thigh. How inept could he possibly get!? He walked back to the paper screen, trying to ignore the way his steps were a bit rushed.

Mo Ran watched him make his retreat, his ears perking towards Chu Wanning, listening to the rustling sounds and the pathetic attempt at tying the bandage more securely. But his focus was broken when he heard thumping sounds behind him.

He turned his head and saw that his own traitorous tail was wagging! But he quickly knew the real reason for it – at least it made sense in his dumb brain. Haha! Humiliated that wooden cat yet again. Look at him scramble like a graceless kitten!

When it was finally time for Chu Wanning to retire, he came out again, wearing his sleeping robes which were suspiciously similar to his regular white ones he always wore. He sat down on the edge of the bed in the other, far corner of the room. Mo Ran had already drifted off into meditative stillness, his eyes closed and breathing deep. The robe Chu Wanning gave him made for summer, and it was almost becoming autumn. Something about that grated on Chu Wanning’s nerves. His fingers subconsciously clenched around the fabric covering his thighs. For a moment, he saw someone else sitting there. That husky that he found in the alley, beaten and starved, looking like a walking corpse. The one that wagged its tail from the first pet in its life.

He stood up, moving with stealth and grace of an apex predator. Walking over to the closet, he opened it up and took out a thick woolen blanket. He crept up to Mo Ran, who looked completely unaware of his surroundings and with slow, very careful movements as if he was afraid that Mo Ran would come out of the stupor at any moment, he unfolded the blanket and draped it over Mo Ran’s back, the white completely swallowing him. When yao were successful in healing meditation, they would be able to sleep through anything, so Mo Ran hadn’t even twitched in response.

After stepping back and returning to his bed, he laid down and curled up into a tight ball before pulling the blanket over himself. It wasn’t that he was giving Mo Ran a second chance. He was giving him a chance that he never had in the first place. His ears peeked out from under the covers, then his eyes, then face. He stared at Mo Ran for a moment longer, and the way his brows were finally relaxed, the tail not tucked between his legs but resting comfortably next to his thigh, it all removed the earlier image of the spiteful man and replaced it with something calmer. Why had he taken Mo Ran in? He couldn’t explain it to himself either. After everything that Mo Ran did today, anyone else would’ve thrown him out like Xue Meng wanted.

He blew on the candle on the desk, plunging the room in darkness before covering himself back up again. He didn’t think that he was simply a man who foolishly believes in the potential in others. He’d already been disappointed once long ago.

Chapter Text

In the morning, the temple definitely needed some work. Chu Wanning went to the statue of Yanming, his hand resting over the smooth jade. He closed his eyes, focusing on attuning with the deity to fix the barriers surrounding the area. The doors to the chamber closed behind him, shutting him out.

This was exactly the scenario Mo Ran wanted. With Chu Wanning distracted and out of the way, he finally felt like he could test out the limits of that Bond. So, he decided to wander.

It was less of a calculated prowl of a predator and more a ghoul haunting the temple grounds. His violet eyes, blazing with suppressed violence, flicked between each corner as if expecting something to be there. And there was something. Eyes. Lots of them. Some staring at him with fear and uncertainty, others with hatred. The ones that had seen his rampage, the blood coating his jaws, they couldn’t simply let that go easily. Other stared at him with a burning hatred, held back only on the brittle authority of their Guardian. Low growls and hisses sounded from the shadows between the buildings and behind the trees.

Mo Ran’s limbs felt stiff and clumsy as he hobbled his way. The further he went, the more he felt his neck feeling itchy, as if an invisible leash was choking him. No matter how much he breathed, he felt as if he could never get a lungfull of air. It was a burning humiliation that he felt like he couldn’t escape. Every single creature here saw him in this pitiful state, sensing his weakness as if it was blood in water. His hand twitched as if fighting against the impulse to scratch his throat.

Mo Ran’s head lifted as he forced his gaze to the stalking cats. His lips twisted, forming a wide and deranged grin. Some stepped back, while others took a step forward. Mo Ran tilted his head just slightly, his voice low and hoarse, as if each word was a tremendous effort. “What? Still worried for that caretaker of yours? I’d bite his fragile neck if I could.”

His ears were still attuning from the rustling of leaves, the rumbling coming from the shadows. It felt like a constant, deafening hum that pierced through his skull. He didn’t notice footsteps until they were right behind him. A crunched leaf made him, making him whirl around to look behind him. His pupils contracted, a low snarl leaving his mouth. Spittle flew as he recognized that person.

Xue Meng. The one that seemed to always stand in his way. He looked like royalty, like someone who was utterly above Mo Ran’s status. Mo Ran was just a monkey looking at a monolith. The straight back, eyes fierce and proud, the refinement and cleanliness that clung to Xue Meng was like an elephant gazing down at an ant.

Xue Meng’s eyes met Mo Ran’s and he lifted his chin. Despite being the same height, Mo Ran felt smaller.

“A dog spreading mud on sacred ground,” Xue Meng spat, the voice feeling like sand rubbed in Mo Ran’s wounds. “You deserve to be in a kennel instead.”

Mo Ran’s tail was rigid behind him, his ears drawing back. His hands clenched at his sides, though that infuriating and unrepentant smirk was plastered on his face. “Perhaps a dog is better than a kitten that still didn’t wean off of its mother’s tit.”

Xue Meng’s claws protracted suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he took a heavy step towards Mo Ran. “What did you say?” he hissed, his tails lashing out behind him, striking at the earth. “Shizun’s pity is the only thing that keeps you standing here, haunting the grounds like a malevolent spirit.” His voice got louder as he spoke, spittle flying from his mouth as his fangs gleamed. “Yet you repay him with betrayal and disruption!”

The two were brimming with unspent violent energy. Suddenly, Xue Meng’s claws swiped at Mo Ran’s face. Mo Ran’s reaction was instinctive, jerking back just before the tips grazed his skin. His balance was off, his feet barely managing to keep him upright. He couldn’t recover – Xue Meng was already on him, gripping the front of his robes and throwing him to the ground. His legs bracketed Mo Ran’s hips, preventing any chance for him to squirm away. His fist raised, before slamming at Mo Ran’s cheek, whipping his head to the side. The tails wrapped around Mo Ran’s knees, binding them together. Mo Ran snarled, his legs uselessly trying to flail and kick Xue Meng off.

Xue Meng’s voice cracked as he struck Mo Ran’s other cheek, making blood well up in Mo Ran’s split lips. “It’s his blood you’re spitting on! His sacrifice you’re trampling!” Hot tears welled up in his eyes, yet he willed them to dry up. His face heated up again, as if a storm had broke through. “I won’t let you destroy our home!”

Mo Ran choked on dirt and blood, yet his reaction was just as vicious. His hands flew up, tugging the front of Xue Meng’s robe and looping it around his neck, forcing his head back. Xue Meng’s eyes widened as a choked gasp left him, the air suddenly cut off from his lungs. Mo Ran’s head leaned forward, biting down hard on the webbing in Xue Meng’s hand, making the cat yao finally retreat back slightly from the sharp pain, his head thrown back to avoid the strangling from his own robes.

“What a great deity he is,” Mo Ran rasped between panting breaths, his voice wet and smelling of blood. “And what do I have!? The shack, the collar, the leash? Should I be grateful!?” His voice became more vicious with each word, his chest heaving with short breaths.

His eyes met Xue Meng, the two brimming with mutual disdain. The reflection Mo Ran saw in Xue Meng’s eyes seemed to warp, like a formless shadow. The eyes brimming with nothing but hatred, the figure so skeletal with bones protruding from his cheekbones in a grotesque parody of a human, the filth and matting making his hair stiff.

It was also the rabid hellhound, the dog with gore and guts dripping from its maw, growling and sucking life from around it. A creature that despite its form, could only be a beast for a righteous person to contain.

Was he still that dog in the alley? It was as if suddenly, the person on top of him was a gang of humans, kicking him until the audible crunch of his ribs breaking was the only thing he could hear.

Xue Meng’s brows drew together as he looked down at Mo Ran, shifting so some pressure was lifted off of Mo Ran’s hips. “You… why are you trembling?”

Trembling? Was he? Mo Ran didn’t feel it. Only the helpless creatures trembled. How was he any different?

The pressure on his throat seemed to ease slowly. The air turned cold as if they were in the dead of winter. Chu Wanning looked as if he was floating ethereally above the ground, his steps so light they didn’t make a sound. His eyes raked over the scene, the blood splattered around the ground, the onlookers, before settling on Xue Meng and Mo Ran.

“Get off.”

Xue Meng stiffened at the chill tone in Chu Wanning’s voice. Without question, he stood up, letting Mo Ran go and unbinding the tails from him, and went in front of Chu Wanning to kneel. His head lowered slowly, his ears drawn back completely. He couldn’t speak – anything he said would be an excuse. He was still reeling from Mo Ran’s reaction. Why was he suddenly trembling?

Mo Ran coughed up blood right onto his sleeve. His tail tucked completely between his legs, the tip trembling. His body still shook as he slowly sat up, supporting himself on his elbow. He didn’t look at Chu Wanning, didn’t want to know what expression he wore. Cold and ruthless. What else could it be?

The other spirits were eager to see what would happen of this. Would Chu Wanning finally kill Mo Ran? Would he finally kick him out?

Chu Wanning’s eyes tightened, the tips of his fingers feeling numb from the energy required to repair the barrier. He took a breath and said, “Xue Meng. You instigated a fight and spilled blood unnecessarily.”

Xue Meng felt the hot flare of shame ignite his face. Hiding his expression from view, he lowered his head further. “Yes.” Of course Chu Wanning knew that Xue Meng started it. He knew him too well.

Chu Wanning turned to Mo Ran. “And you…”

Mo Ran sat up and finally dared to look at Chu Wanning, his eyes narrowing into a glare. There it is. He’ll probably just put me in a cage at this point.

“… you dug up too many burrows in the courtyard,” Chu Wanning finished. “You’ll both clean Yanming’s statue.”

The shock that came over everything was felt in the air. Digging up burrows? Such a lame excuse! But that also meant that Mo Ran and Xue Meng would have to simply clean. How were they going to manage it without tearing each other apart?

Chu Wanning only turned around and already headed back. “Dismissed.”

Xue Meng let out a choked breath of pure frustration. He shot a look at Mo Ran and grumbled under his breath, “This is all your fault!”

Mo Ran was still astonished by that punishment. Why was Chu Wanning so lenient? Was he truly that stupid?

Yanming’s statue was quite large. In fact, had Mo Ran and Xue Meng not been cleaning it, they wouldn’t have properly appreciated just how big this statue was. Yanming’s head was as big as them. Xue Meng kept uncharacteristically silent, though the swipes of his wet rag were jerky and stiff. He kept his gaze anywhere but Mo Ran. As he wiped at a stubborn clump of dust that somehow managed to stick onto the jade paw, it only smeared. A sharp curse escaped him as he wiped harder, but his tails kept lashing out behind him.

Mo Ran wiped the broken tail, but it was so big it felt like an endless task. Was this a new form of torture? He sighed to himself, his mind already shutting off from the task. He wiped and wiped, yet somehow more dust gathered in the meantime.

The two in the room felt quite tense. Even Mo Ran didn’t feel like fighting right in front of the statue, while Xue Meng couldn’t even consider it. The silence wasn’t pleasant at all though.

Xue Meng finally lifted his gaze and looked at Mo Ran’s back. From here, he saw Mo Ran’s weak and now battered body. The hatred and suspicion didn’t go away, but it melted into something more complicated. Just who was this dog? Posturing and snarling one moment, yet trembling and tucking his tail the next. He didn’t want to think about it though. It hurt his brain.

Chu Wanning watched from the entrance, his expression unchanging. But his eyes flickered to Mo Ran and Xue Meng, finally trusting them to behave. He finally turned and left. On the way, he saw Shi Mei who was just coming out of the infirmary after tending to the injured from the battle. Shi Mei’s gaze was lowered for a moment, before he looked up and gave a smile at Chu Wanning, greeting with a nod. Chu Wanning could see the toll on Shi Mei – the bags under his eyes, the faint trembling of his tails. He nodded back at him and continued walking.

Shi Mei was about to turn to go the other way when Chu Wanning stopped in his tracks. “Shi Mei,” he said.

“Yes, Shizun?” Shi Mei asked, slightly surprised.

“Go and rest,” Chu Wanning told him. He paused, the silence hanging in the air like dead weight. He clearly wanted to say more, so Shi Mei didn’t leave just yet.

And then it came. “And after your rest… tend to Mo Ran,” he finished, his voice lowering to a whisper. It was quite unlike Chu Wanning to be so uncertain of something. As if he could feel Shi Mei’s questioning gaze, Chu Wanning continued walking, disappearing between the temple halls.

Shi Mei’s smile dropped and he nodded to himself. He headed back to his room and napped for a few hours, as much as he could. He woke up, his limbs heavy, but he managed to force himself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He already had some simple congee made for his other patients, so he just lit up the fire with a spell and reheated the food. When it was nice and warm, he ladled the food into a bowl and sealed it with a lid, carrying that and taking a box of medicine with him as he went out. His robes whispered against the floor as he walked, his three black tails swaying behind him lazily. He knew Mo Ran would be in the shack now after cleaning that statue. The sun was already setting. How quickly the day flew by.

When he opened the door to the shack, the stench was immediate – sweat and blood. Mo Ran was sitting with his back facing the door, his fingers turning over a shard of a ceramic cup. He was staring at his own reflection in the glaze, and even when he heard the door opening, he didn’t turn, but his fluffy ears swiveled back as the only reaction.

Shi Mei stayed silent for a moment and approached sowly, uncaring of the filth. He knelt beside Mo Ran and blacked down the medical box, the bowl of congee sitting on top of it. He placed the bowl down on the ground and opened the medical box.

Mo Ran finally turned to look at Shi Mei. His eyes tracked Shi Mei’s hands, settling on those sheathed claws. He tossed the shard of ceramic carelessly in the corner. “What are you doing?”

Shi Mei kept his gaze to the box as he took out a bottle of salve and uncorked the small bottle. “I merely wanted to see if you were alright.” His gaze lifted to Mo Ran’s face, the cheeks purple from the bruising and the blood drying on Mo Ran’s lips. “Is that an issue?”

Mo Ran pressed his lips into a tight line as Shi Mei poured some of the salve onto his fingers. It was clear, even with some foam bubbles. “What’s that?” he asked.

Shi Mei smiled and showed him the clear, slightly viscous liquid. “It’s yao saliva, of course.”

Mo Ran felt his stomach churn and jerked back. “Seriously? Is this some sort of joke?”

“Not at all,” Shi Mei said lightly. “It’s really useful. It can mend wounds faster when extracted from a certain gland in the back of the cheek.” His wet fingers raised, almost coming to Mo Ran’s face. “Come on, it’s really not that bad. It’s just like any other normal medicine.”

Not only did Mo Ran never consume medicine before, but now his first time had to be taken by spit. This day really was horrible in all aspects. The dull throb of his cheek pulsed, as if really, really wanting him to just take it. Shi Mei didn’t move further, but his eyes were expectant and surprisingly patient. After a moment of squirming, Mo Ran reluctantly stilled.

The sting from the “medicine” was minimal, but the cold wetness of it made Mo Ran flinch involuntarily. The wounds were quickly regenerating , the swelling reducing from his face. Shi Mei looked at Mo Ran’s shifty eyes, seeing the way he was deliberating whether to bolt. “Don’t blame Xue Meng too much about today,” he murmured softly. “He is quite protective of Shizun. All the residents here are. When they see you… they see an outsider, a threat.” He pulled his hand back and wiped it on a handkerchief. “After that attack, everyone is feeling jittery.”

Mo Ran wiped at his face with his sleeve, since his wounds were almost healed and he had to get that disgusting saliva off his face. His tail stiffened as he looked at Shi Mei, though. “A threat…” he whispered, mostly to himself. It was just like that unknown reflection he saw in Xue Meng’s eyes.

Shi Mei tilted his head slowly. “People like us find it hard to belong anywhere,” he said. “Shizun… he’s a good person, but he’s always stretching himself too thin. He always extends his kindness to everyone, even the ones that don’t take it seriously.”

Mo Ran’s ears drew back and he lowered his gaze. Why did his face heat up suddenly? Were his wounds swelling up mysteriously again, or was his face heating up in shame? How could he feel anything but hate for Chu Wanning? Even then, the glimpses he saw of him… they always continued to break what he expected Chu Wanning to do. Was he really such a drain on someone virtuous, like a parasite leeching energy from its host?

Shi Mei placed the salve back in the box and stood up. He looked down at Mo Ran, his expression unchanged and placid. “I’ll be going, Mo Ran. If you need anything, you can seek me out.” He turned and left the shack, closing the door softly behind him.

Mo Ran stared at the ground, but his eyes were unseeing. The bowl of congee sat beside him, sealed and untouched. His hands trembled as he opened the lid. The rice was plain and white, with no garnish or seasonings. His mind recoiled instinctively at it – human food. Was he even worthy of such a thing? He was just animal someone picked up out of pity to keep.

But his stomach rumbled loudly, cramping so hard he hunched forward. Don’t waste a single drop. His head bent down, bringing his face to the bowl. He didn’t care about the mess or the shame as he lapped up at the bland congee. It was savage, animalistic. His human form didn’t look like it fit his skin at all. Bile rose up in his throat, threatening to spill, but he pushed it down and continued to devour the congee. Don’t waste it, don’t waste it –

But he was useless, completely. The bowl tipped over from his efforts and spilled the remainder of the congee onto the floor. Mo Ran stared at it, wide eyed and gasping for breath. It was only a small bit of the congee that spilled, but it was enough for Mo Ran’s eyes to well up with uncontrollable tears. He wasted it. He was so stupid, he couldn’t even eat right.

He felt the stomach acid burn his throat as he bent down further, licking the dirty floor off the congee. The texture of wood, dust and barely any food came on his tongue, but he pushed through it. Tears flooded his face, his vision blurring. He couldn’t see anything over his sobs that were broken by violent gagging.

He didn’t feel the Bond signalling that his master was close, or hear the door open. A hand, cold and firm, pulled him away from the floor. Mo Ran whimpered, trying to fight the hand to get back to the floor. “It’s wasted!” he cried, his voice wet and ugly. “I-I have to clean it! Let go! If it goes w-wasted, what will I do?” His hands reached down to the ground, trying to scoop up the food, but it simply slipped between his fingers.

The person beside him held him back, his voice low. “Mo Ran, stop it.”

Mo Ran trembled and looked at the blurry image of that person, the white filling his vision. “Why? What am I doing wrong? I just want to be a good dog! I’ll be good, I won’t waste a single thing!”

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him abruptly into a chest. His filthy, the dust, tears and congee, smeared across the previously pristine white of the robe. The warmth was so unsettling, so sudden, that Mo Ran’s sobs hitched. After a moment, he buried his face further into that chest, his eyes closed. He didn’t want to let go at all, a selfish need he couldn’t let go.

Chu Wanning’s hands rested between Mo Ran’s shoulder blades. He didn’t flinch away from the filth or the smell of rot and desperation hanging off of Mo Ran. He stayed quiet, feeling those shivers wreck Mo Ran’s entire body.

In this moment, to Mo Ran, Chu Wanning looked like a savior. Like an immortal descending from the Heavens to hold his disgusting, frail and filthy body through the shame and hatred. In this moment, he forgot everything that happened before. There was only now, this comfort, this person. His tail moved and draped itself over Chu Wanning’s boot, silently begging him to stay. And Chu Wanning did. He stayed through it all.

Chapter Text

When had Chu Wanning ever consoled someone so sincerely? He really didn’t know.

Mo Ran had sobbed himself to sleep, and was currently draped across him like a heavy blanket. Chu Wanning’s hands awkwardly pat Mo Ran’s back, trying to wake him up and get him off. It didn’t work at all. Chu Wanning shifted slightly to readjust and perhaps escape this vulnerability, which earned him a small whine from Mo Ran and that face nuzzling into his chest.

Chu Wanning let out a sigh. What had he gotten himself into? If anyone saw him like this, it would be a shame bigger than he could even imagine. His clothes were filthy now – with Mo Ran’s grime and filth – yet he found that he didn’t mind it at all. It was more so the position of vulnerability that was making him uncomfortable.

When he captured Mo Ran, he didn’t know what to expect. But he knew it was certainly not this.

Many hours passed. Chu Wanning couldn’t really tell how long since he was zoning out and staring at the top of Mo Ran’s head. The hair really was matted and messy, as if a bird’s nest was up there.

After a moment of intense, blinkless staring, Mo Ran’s eyes trembled, before slowly opening. For a moment, he was disoriented and couldn’t recall anything specific. All he knew was that this place was warm, which made him sigh, his eyes threatening to close again.

But then he remembered where he was. More specifically, who he was with.

Eyes widened instantly and pure panic flashed through them as he pushed himself away from Chu Wanning, backing himself up against the wall. For a while nobody spoke and they simply stared at each other in shame.

Chu Wanning’s ears pinned slightly, his eyes narrowing for a moment. He finds me repulsive, even now. But then he caught himself and his ears went back up. He couldn’t bear this silence anymore, damn it!

“You’re awake,” he said, glossing over… well, everything. “Clean yourself.”

Mo Ran blinked for a moment, trying to adjust to the light. “… Huh?”

Chu Wanning stood back up, his hands uselessly running through his robes as if they could magically clean him from the filth. From here, Mo Ran could finally see Chu Wanning’s face clearly as he adjusted his eyes. Was that a blush on Chu Wanning’s cheeks? It was so faint, it was barely visible.

Without another word, Chu Wanning left the hut. Mo Ran was silent for a while, his eyes glued on the door. What was he doing with his life? And more importantly, what was that cat doing? Despite him berating himself for being so desperate and weak to cling to Chu Wanning, the warmth he felt was something he hadn’t experienced since his mother died.

He finally managed to stand up despite his legs feeling wobbly. Despite not wanting to listen to anything Chu Wanning said, he left the hut and went to search for a bath.

This felt weird. Too weird. He hated Chu Wanning, or at least he thought he did. But every time Chu Wanning showed up, he’d done these incomprehensible things. Mo Ran felt completely empty, his shoulders slumping as he walked the gravel path to a nearby stream, away from prying eyes. If he didn’t feel that rage, if he wasn’t just a vessel of vengeance and hatred, then what was he? What was left of him?

The dirt path opened up to to the water, the grass and foliage obscuring it. The gentle hum of the creek coupled with birdsong washed over Mo Ran. He avoided looking at his reflection, so his fingers fumbled blindly with the borrowed robes as he took them off. After taking everything off and tossing the clothes on a rock, he finally dared a look down at himself. He was way too skeletal, his eyes haunted and red-rimmed. After quickly averting his eyes, he finally stepped into the cold water which sent a shiver up his spine. He sat down so his waist was submerged, before cupping water in his hands and scrubbing his skin raw.

Stupid, stupid. The more he thought about it, the more he hated himself. He truly was a disgusting leech.

“I won’t let you destroy our home!”

Xue Meng’s words echoed in his mind. This had all started with him, hadn’t it? He had no home himself, so was he just here to destroy someone else’s?

His hands ran through his hair, scrubbing his scalp furiously. The hair that he pulled out barely registered. But as a fish swam by, he took notice of it.

Chu Wanning had been discussing with the other Elders about the attack on the temple. Even as they talked about the defenses and barriers, he was tuning them out. The Rufeng Sect found them somehow. How was that possible? Was he too careless when dealing out Yanming’s justice?

Was he the one who put everyone in danger?

But he’d been so careful, only giving humans vague misfortunes. He blended in perfectly too, looking unassuming to others. How was it possible that the cultivators had found them?

This temple was his responsibility. If it was attacked, then he would have to fix it.

He left the stuffy meeting room remembering only a few snippets of the conversation. His head swam as he thought of the monumental tasks he had – heal the cats, send out more scouts to get intel, strengthen the barriers… he had to get started on the tasks now. How could he face those that sought sanctuary here after this failure?

Sweep, sweep, sweep.

The sound of a broom against stone pulled him out of his thoughts. Chu Wanning looked up from the ground, his ears perking forward at the sound. There, on the stone steps, broom clutched in pale hands, was Mo Ran. His gaze was lowered as if utterly focused on the task, tail curled and fluffy. He was clean now, his hair pulled back in a high ponytail, though some parts of his skin were reddened as if irritated.

At the sound of Chu Wanning walking up to him, Mo Ran looked up. His dark eyes met Chu Wanning, the rage and hatred from before clearly banked. Now, they simply held a pit of uncertainty, of something fragile.

Before Chu Wanning could say a word, Mo Ran spoke up. “Shizun,” he said with a nod. The title, which before was said in mockery, now sounded more… formal. It seemed as if Mo Ran had made some sort of private decision.

Chu Wanning didn’t really know what to say to not shatter the moment. But then he noticed just how wet Mo Ran’s robes were. What’s more, a bulge in his pocket. “What is that?”

“A fish.”

“What?”

Mo Ran stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a perfectly plump carp. It’s scales were still moist, but it wasn’t flailing. “For you.”

Chu Wanning’s eyes locked onto the fish. It looked big and juicy, those beady fish-eyes staring right back at him. His pupils dilated, his tails swinging in a hypnotic rhythm. Saliva built up inside his mouth, and he had to restrain himself from pouncing on that fish, or at worst, chirping. He fucking loved fish. Especially if that fish is prepared well – the fatty meat chopped up into neat, bite-sized pieces and fried, then dropped in a milky broth made from boiled chicken bones. The smell would be heavenly, the steam rising from the bowl and traveling right into his nostrils. That carp looked healthy indeed.

Seeing Chu Wanning’s unbroken focus, Mo Ran found it very interesting. He knew cats liked fish, but he didn’t expect Chu Wanning to be conquered by that desire too. And was that a faint territorial hiss he heard?

But the sound of footsteps made Chu Wanning jolt, his eyes darting away guiltily as if he was a child caught red-handed trying to steal cookies. Shi Mei and Xue Meng approached, deep in a conversation.

“… they couldn’t have found us. The illusion barriers should’ve kept them running around in circles,” Xue Meng’s confused voice drifted in.

Shi Mei nodded, his brows furrowed. “Even so, I fear they’ll be back. They might even use our current weakness against us.”

The two stopped dead in their tracks as the scent of fresh carp drifted to them. Their serious conversation was cut short, heads snapping to Mo Ran’s hand.

Mo Ran raised a brow and used the tips of his fingers to hold the tail of the fish. He swung it left and right, and the three pairs of eyes tracked it as if it was hypnotic, pupils dilated until their irises were almost black. It was as if a palpable air of hunger enveloped the three. Everything else was forgotten.

Chu Wanning finally blinked, his rigid tails behind him twitching. “How long are you going to hold that thing, Mo Ran!?” he snapped.

Mo Ran only smirked wide, already seeing the flush develop on Chu Wanning’s face. He was feeling quite bold, so he approached Chu Wanning and put the fish in his hand. “There. I’m not holding it anymore.”

Chu Wanning looked down at his hand, his heart stuttering in his chest. He was watched by eyes around him and it took all of his centuries-long self-control to not devour the carp right then and there. A hunter denying himself a bounty was truly tragic.

Xue Meng clicked his tongue, his head turning to the side even as his nose worked nonstop. With a chin raised like an aristocrat too high and mighty to care about worldly trifles, he gritted through clenched teeth, “As I was saying… we really need to strike the Rufeng Sect first before they manage to attack us again.”

“We really can’t act that quickly,” Shi Mei interjected, his own voice strained as his eyes kept darting to the fish in Chu Wanning’s palm with an almost irritated tone. “The cultivators outnumber us. They have holy weapons.” One of his tails gave a flick. “Besides, a lot of cats are injured right now.” He shook his head, his midnight ears drawing back a little. “It would really be unwise.”

A frown came on Xue Meng’s face and his gaze dropped in contemplation. “But surely we can do something…”

Chu Wanning’s face hardened, his claws biting into the scales of the fish. “We won’t be able to defend forever,” he said bluntly. “They’ll find cracks in our barriers and walls.” With a decision made, he turned to Mo Ran. “You’ll come with me.”

Mo Ran’s brows shot up. “To do what?”

“A mission,” Chu Wanning replied, his voice lowering. “The retribution must be swift, delivered with Yanming’s power and grace. With the amount of demonic energy required to curse that amount of people…” He trailed off, suddenly looking over at Xue Meng. “You have a lot of it. You’ll be useful there.”

Before Mo Ran could respond, Xue Meng sneered at him. “Shizun, that dog is the entire reason we’re in this mess! Wouldn’t he turn traitor?” His eyes locked onto Mo Ran’s, narrowing with suspicion. “He’s proven himself unreliable enough already. Why trust him to do anything but sweep the floors?”

Shi Mei’s tail moved and wrapped around Xue Meng’s ginger one, making the young master jolt. “Give him a chance at least.” He smiled as he glanced sidelong at Mo Ran. “Who knows? Perhaps he will surprise you.” He clasped his hands and bowed shallowly to Chu Wanning. “I trust Shizun’s judgement. Shizun wouldn’t ever steer us wrong.”

Mo Ran felt the pressure from everyone, his ears drawing back. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes now – he could see the way none of them believed in him. He didn’t really believe in himself either. All that pent-up rage, the hatred, the recent vulnerabilities and humiliation, all that left him adrift and without purpose.

But… but if he didn’t try to prove himself wrong, then what was left of him? He would forever be a stray, something that should be put down and thrown for the vultures to feast on. He didn’t know how, but he wanted to do something. At least, it would be something to clear him of this massive debt he had. Nobody liked being indebted to others, to have it looming over them like a blade ready to strike.

He lifted his gaze and looked at Chu Wanning. “I’ll go,” he said solemnly. “Just tell me what to do.”

Chu Wanning’s face remained impassive, but a slight hitch in breath showed that he was surprised. He expected Mo Ran to growl, to snarl, to refuse orders. Was it a plot, or a change of heart? Why was Mo Ran being so obedient?

Did it have something to do with the morning? He looked over Mo Ran again – the clean hair tied up in a proper ponytail, a few wild strands framing his face, the shoulders less hunched – and felt that something really did change. What was going through that head? Even Mo Ran’s eyes seemed less crazed, as if some introspection happened in the meantime.

After a moment, Chu Wanning nodded. “I’ll tell you when we get there,” he said as he turned around. “We’ll head out tonight. Get some rest.” He headed back to the interior of the temple. The fish went with him, of course, his fingers curled possessively around it.

Mo Ran watched him go, his own heart pounding in his ears. He clenched his fists at his sides to prevent them from shaking visibly. His tail anxiously tucked between his legs, trembling faintly. He really should’ve hated Chu Wanning, but he couldn’t find it in himself to look for flaws under a magnifying glass anymore.

Xue Meng’s hiss snapped Mo Ran out of his thoughts. “If you dare fail this mission and get Shizun injured,” he growled, “I’m coming for your head first before bothering with the humans, dog.” His eyes didn’t just hold protective anger – a deeper sense of betrayal and abandonment lingered, as if he was being pushed aside because of Mo Ran.

Shi Mei looked at Xue Meng and said softly, “We should go as well and entrust this mission to Mo Ran and Shizun. Your father still needs us to help.” He stalked off towards one of the side buildings, Xue Meng following after him dejectedly.

When Mo Ran went back to his shack to rest as instructed, he had a strange dream.

In a temple deep in the mist shrouded woods much like the Yu Mao Temple, he moved much like a ghost. He tested his hands on a wall, placing his palms on it. They phased through as if he simply didn’t exist.

There was a name plate on an erected stone slab in the courtyard, but he couldn’t make sense of it. He could do nothing but sit back and watch. An abbot was walking out to the courtyard, his head bald, wrapped in simple orange silk. Beside him trailed a large white cat the size of a tiger, the six fluffy tails raised as it looked at the abbot with golden eyes filled with devotion.

Mo Ran’s heart almost stopped for a moment. Could it be…?

The abbot smiled and patted the cat’s head. “Your cultivation progress is nothing but divine,” he said, his own gaze holding endless pride. “Wanning, soon you’ll become an immortal, a life form above all, where nothing could stand in your way. Your blessings will rid us all of suffering and misery.”

Chu Wanning!?

Mo Ran looked again at the big cat – it looked nothing like the Chu Wanning he saw in his day-to-day. The eyes looked softer, tails expressive, and he even seemed… happy. But how could that be the same Chu Wanning?

Chu Wanning rubbed his flank on the abbot’s side and went to sit before him. All seemed well for a moment, but then he pawed at the abbot’s leg with a paw. “Shizun, will I really be able to rid the world of evil?”

The abbot nodded. “Of course.”

“But there are many immortals that came before me. Why didn’t they fix the world yet?”

“They don’t have enough power, Wanning. A lot of them are more focused on affairs in Heaven than in the Mortal Realm.”

The speech itself seemed rehearsed, as if the abbot had said it a hundred times before. But this time, Chu Wanning didn’t seem convinced. “I saw many mortals suffer outside. Both human and beast alike, all left as corpses.”

The abbot’s smile froze. “Us mortals need to undergo trials, Wanning. We cannot fix that aspect of life as we are.”

Chu Wanning dropped his gaze for a moment. “But… if I become an immortal, how can I make sure that the Mortal Realm isn’t suffering?” He stood up and paced in a circle, his paws restless. “I can’t watch them all from above, Shizun.”

He stopped for a moment, his eyes meeting the abbot’s. “I can’t stay here, Shizun. I want to leave.”

High above in the clouds, Mo Ran saw it. The cat gazing down from above, the fur swirling and moving in unnatural ways, made of fire that covered half the sky itself. The red eyes seemed to crinkle in delight. It was looking directly at Mo Ran.

Mo Ran awoke in cold sweat, panting for breath on the furs lining the floor of the hut. His violet eyes were wide and unseeing, the dream feeling so much like reality.

“Yanming…” he whispered. He simply knew in the back of his mind that it was all real. Yanming’s blessing.