Wei Xuan breathed in the crisp mountain air. This is true homecoming, she thought, feeling her spiritual energy flow unimpeded – no longer restrained by that apocalyptic world's oppressive rules.
Two years of preparation had led her to Cloud Recesses' moon gate. Her gaze traced the three thousand sect rules carved into the Discipline Rock, each stroke radiating glacial authority. A young Lan disciple approached, ears reddening as he stole glances at the frail beauty in cyan robes whose delicate fingers rested on a black broadsword's hilt.
"Miss Wei," Grandmaster Lan Qiren stroked his beard when she finished speaking, "The cultivation world only knows of Wei Changze and Zangse Sanren's son Wei Wuxian."
She lowered her lashes, wood-element energy thrumming beneath her skin to maintain her carefully constructed pallor. "This one is Wei Xuan, style Wushang. My brother and I were twin siblings." Her voice trembled with artful precision as she spun the fabricated tale – temple fire, amnesia, poisoned wine awakening her memories.
When she described clutching driftwood in turbulent rivers during her "exile," even the stone-faced Lan disciple guarding the door blinked rapidly. Grandmaster Lan's grip tightened on his teacup at the mention of Xunzhou's demonic beasts.
"These eyes witnessed my adoptive parents torn apart by yaoguai," she whispered, nails digging into her palms until blood seeped through the handkerchief. The metallic scent mingled with sandalwood incense as Lan Qiren stood abruptly.
"Summon Wei Wuxian from the Cold Spring," the old scholar ordered, his usually stern voice cracking. As the disciple hurried away, Wei Xuan's concealed smile sharpened like an unsheathed blade. Let the game begin, dear brother.