Yuan Xia and Shuang’s heads poked out from under the windowsill. Peering in, they could see Hua ChunMing laying depressed on Yuan Xia’s bed.

“Should… should we go in?” Shuang ducked under the window again, and he turned to Yuan Xia.

Yuan Xia made a troubled expression, then raised his head in thought. After a moment, he nodded and looked at Shuang with eyes preparing for battle.

Yuan Xia thought his steps were quiet. Shuang thought his were quieter. But neither of them could have predicted that, as soon as they creaked open the door, Hua ChunMing stood towering over them with an unprecedented seriousness on his face.

Yuan Xia’s heart hammered in his chest once more. This time, not from awe, but more-so due to trepidation. Both him and Shuang froze in their tracks, and the Righteous Leader’s shadow engulfed them in darkness.

—

Holding back tears, Hua ChunMing watched as the two boys looked up at him like deer in headlights before solemnly retreating back outside. The door shut with a solid click; he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Enough.” After a minute of their silent standstill, Hua ChunMing waved his sleeve and opened the door, disregarding the horror written clearly on the disciples’ faces.

However, to his surprise, Yuan Xia and Shuang turned to each other and engaged immediately in a deep conversation, one listening while the other talked. They were clearly ignoring the Righteous Leader’s presence.

But when they heard Hua ChunMing step relentlessly towards them, they flinched in unison, and their heads creaked.

“R–Righteous Leader Hua!” Shuang took the initiative and fell to the floor, his face buried in the clouds.

Yuan Xia followed, stumbling a bit as he sat on his knees. The Demonic Faction didn’t have such formal customs, which were once a point of fascination for Yuan Xia. Now, he regretted not studying about the Orthodox Sects more.

Yuan Xia glanced up through his bangs, wondering why Hua ChunMing was so quiet. He was met with Hua ChunMing’s face directly in front. A silent yelp escaped Yuan Xia, and he fell backwards. Flustered, Yuan Xia immediately pounded his head in a kowtow, ignoring the Righteous Leader’s gaze as it turned heavy then complicated.

Hua ChunMing wavered. He hadn’t expected Yuan Xia to react so violently. Was it his appearance? No, he’d tidied himself up. Then, was it the heavy scent of alcohol…?

Truthfully, all cultivators above the Golden Core stage lost their ability to become drunk. Hua ChunMing himself had already ascended to near-immortality; he was 240 years old!

Yet, driven by pure emotion, he’d managed to drink himself into a stupor over and over. What had once been a habit had now become slightly embarrassing…?

With a small cough, Hua ChunMing waved his brocade sleeve behind his back. A fluffy cloud materialized underneath him, where he sat down with ease. A moment of silence passed, the master facing his disciples.

Yuan Xia peeked up. Hua ChunMing stared back.

“Good evening, Righteous Leader Hua.” Shuang broke the air of tension and stood up, poking Yuan Xia’s side with his feet. Getting the hint, Yuan Xia rose unsteadily, gripping Shuang’s green sleeves for balance.

“No need to be so formal.” Hua ChunMing coughed again, turning away from Shuang’s revering gaze. He couldn’t take it anymore, he felt so guilty. “... I’m sorry for my display earlier, please forgive me.”

He spaced out his words, unable to resist sneaking glances at Yuan Xia.

Even if Yuan Xia had permanent blindness, he could sense the intensity of Hua ChunMing’s gaze. Yuan Xia stepped closer to Shuang, planting himself in an unassuming position.

“And…” Hua ChunMing continued. “Congratulations on becoming inner disciples. I hope you will feel safe under my wing.”

Both Yuan Xia and Shuang imagined Hua ChunMing, lying face-down as he cried puddles in their dorm. They turned and gave each other a tacit nod, erasing the scene from their minds.

Since the Righteous Leader of the Orthodox Factions had given his word, they would trust him for now. Indeed, the Righteous Leader should be noble.

“The event for new disciples should begin soon. Follow me?” Standing on his cloud, Hua ChunMing flicked his sleeve. The cloud multiplied rapidly in size, soon traversing the entirety of the branch meant for the inner disciples.

Without any hesitation, Shuang bounced after him, pulling Yuan Xia along.

—

At the end of the main road, Hua ChunMing stretched out his hands. A layer of mist condensated the clouds, growing into a flocculent platform. He gestured to Shuang and Yuan Xia.

Shuang stepped on first, supporting Yuan Xia’s arms as he wobbled onto the platform. Hua ChunMing took his hand, and Yuan Xia couldn’t help but quiver in fear. Half of him still hoped that Hua ChunMing hadn’t associated him with the Demon Lord yet, but the other half believed otherwise.

If Hua ChunMing doubted him for even a second, he would end up like the unfortunate lookalikes who got too close…. His second life would go to waste.

This fear held a tighter grip over Yuan Xia, even more than his inability to see. The more Hua ChunMing moved, the more Yuan Xia’s tiny heart thudded in his chest.

He heard a faint exhale, then an emptiness around his hand. Hua ChunMing sat down, settling on a corner of the transparent platform. Only then did Yuan Xia relax.

With ferocious tenacity, as if trying to prove once and for all that he had no relationship to the former Demon Lord, Yuan Xia grabbed the Dark Clouds off the bridge of his nose and shoved them through his hair.

These Dark Clouds? I can see perfectly without them. I’m not blind. I’m not blind.

Hua ChunMing wanted to say something as he watched Yuan Xia’s face scrunch up in pain. But he hadn’t even asked for his disciples’ names yet; he couldn’t just jump the gun and frighten the children he’d sworn to protect.

“What… should I call you two?” He looked at Yuan Xia.

If this disciple spoke, Hua ChunMing wondered if he could let go of all of his suspicions. He knew better than anyone else that Yuan Xia was mute.

But Hua ChunMing did not want to end up depressed again. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he hoped his blonde, heterochromic disciple didn’t have the ability to speak.

To no one’s relief, Shuang answered for both of them.

“I’m Shuang! And this boy,” he nudged the Demon Lord who was praying for his life beside him, “can’t speak, but is named Yuan Xia.”

Yuan Xia lamented. It was all over.

Something snapped in Hua ChunMing’s expression.

The shift, subtle yet alarming, compelled Shuang to take a step back. He knew he’d said something wrong, but trying to clear any misunderstandings up might worsen the situation. With no other option, Shuang fell to his knees and shut up, pretending to be a gingko tree.

The Righteous Leader’s face grew listless and confused, and he stared at Yuan Xia with an indecipherable gaze. With a lurch, the cloud underneath began its travel, but Hua ChunMing didn’t even blink.

Yuan Xia slowly knelt on the platform space beside Shuang and shivered silently. Without even speaking a single word, he’d managed to plunge the entire trio into silence. With no way of justifying Shuang’s words, nor his own identity, the Dark Clouds brushing back Yuan Xia’s hair plopped back onto his face.