Wang Qian stood in front of her beloved son, her veiled face obscuring the grief on her face.

“Huali, it is time for you to go and accept your destiny. I’ve tried to protect you all this time, but now, I can no longer hold you here.” The man in front of her was a great beauty, with sharp eyebrows and long, silky black hair tied at the nape of his neck and draped over his shoulder. His white robes were immaculate, giving him a holy, untouchable aura.

Peng Huali pressed his thin lips together.

“Mother...” Slowly getting to his knees, he kowtowed deeply to her, as if he were conveying the very depths of his emotions in that one, single moment. “Please forgive this unfilial son.”

She strode to his side, kneeling down next to him and gently lifting his head up with one elegant hand. Looking straight into his eyes, she spoke.

“Do not ask for my forgiveness. I am the one responsible for your...stay here.” Briefly closing her eyes, Wang Qian collected herself and stood back up.

“Peng Huali,” She intoned cooly. “You wish to exit the Land of the Lost. To do so, you must be able to best all the Guardians of the Nine Gates, in a duel. You have already gone past the first eight Guardians. I, the Guardian of the Ninth Gate, shall be your last obstacle to overcome.” Shifting into a fighting stance, Wang Qian readied herself, looking on detached as teardrops slid slowly down Huali’s cheeks. They dripped down his face, hitting the ground and creating dark spots on the stone below.

He cried because this battle would mean more than just freedom. It meant leaving his mother behind forever because no one was allowed to enter the lands more than once. He had already used up his chance to be there when he wandered in as a child. Peng Huali should have died, but due to the grace of the veiled woman he called mother, he was able to grow up safely for ten years.

And now, he was repaying her by leaving and never coming back. Huali still remembered the family he had left back outside, and he needed to protect them from the calamity that had been prophesied.

Peng Huali lifted himself from the cold ground, watching his mother morosely. Disbelief and unwillingness was etched into his expressions as he faced off against Wang Qian. He was still crying, eyes becoming red-rimmed as he too, put himself into a fighting stance, lifting both arms to defend.

With no further warning, Wang Qian struck. Her open palm soared through the air, catching the lower part of his forearm and knocking it away. Following up, she pivoted on her heel and clenched her other fist, intending to slam it into his stomach.

Peng Huali launched himself backwards, escaping the range of her fist. Crouching down the moment he landed, Peng Huali swept his foot under her, missing when she shifted her weight to her back foot and lifted the one in front.

The two fell into a familiar rhythm of kicks and punches, blocks and leg sweeps. Each punch would be dodged, blocked, or redirected, and each attempt to create distance ended in the other leaping forward to close the gap.

Finally, a hit went through. Peng Huali snaked his hand through her guard, twisting his body to angle his punch between her forearms. With an audible thud, Wang Qian was thrown back from the solid blow to her chest. She crashed into the ground from the sheer strength of the punch, but quickly staggered back up. There was a brief pause as each of them sized the other up.

Peng Huali had a light sheen of sweat on his face, his chest heaving slightly. Wang Qian was worse off, breathing heavily from the internal injuries she sustained from his attack.

Huali barely dodged the lightning quick palm strike she launched, slipping to the side. However, her arm changed its trajectory midair, swinging up towards his face. Leaning back, he avoided her hand, but didn’t notice the leg under him, kicking his feet off the ground.

He hit the ground on his back, and let out a yell of pain when her other foot slammed into his side, flipping him over.

“Do you yield?” She asked him, with emotionless eyes. He didn’t answer, not even when she stomped her foot on his back, pressing his body into the ground.

Suddenly, with a flash of blinding white light, Wang Qian was thrown back from the prone body of her son, collapsing. Peng Huali look up in confusion, and his eyes widened in horror at her body’s state.

“No! Mother, please! I didn’t mean to use my internal strength...” He crawled over to her figure, which was slowly fading. “Please! Don’t die. I can still save you, right?” Huali placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to extract his energy from her.

“Huali...” She said. “Your inner strength is very pure. I’m proud of you. Please, when you go out, don’t change. Don’t let the outside corrupt your morals.”

“Mother!” He cried, hugging her body closer. She lifted a shaking hand to the back of his head, stroking it.

“You are an incredible person. You, who has lived in these corrupted lands for so long, and yet retained your righteousness. I understand now... why you were chosen.”

“I don’t.” A voice said from the audience. Peng Huali’s face twitched minutely before he forced his face still.

“Mother...may I see your face this once?”

“Never understood why you couldn’t see her face. Is she supposed to be super ugly? That shouldn’t mean anything if you really love her that much.” Huali’s grip on the veil tightened before relaxing again, flipping it over her head. Wang Qian’s face was pale, like the rest of her, but she was a great beauty. She had delicate features and rosy cheeks, and well-proportioned overall.

Only...

In place of eyes, there were two gaping holes. They had been caked over in blood, and blood slowly flowed from the empty sockets. Peng Huali hugged her tighter.

“How?” She smiled sadly at him.

“I was betrothed to one of the most handsome men in the world. He loved me, but I didn’t love him. I wanted to escape from the marriage.” He stayed quiet, and she continued.

“My sister was jealous of me. She hated that I didn’t see how valuable he was, so she took away my ability to see. I couldn’t see how anything looked anymore. I’ve even long forgotten the sight of my own face. When I died, I was full of hate and became a malevolent spirit here, in the Land of the Lost.” Wang Qian gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I was very vain. To live without seeing how others looked would be torture to me. It was terrifying to think that I would become reviled for my hideous appearance. I was afraid my family would reject me.”

“Mother, you are the most beautiful person I have seen.”

“What the hell? Maybe revealing that she was a vain person might add depth to her character, but she’s dying right now! What good does it do? And the execution of it was just lazy.” Both of the people onstage twitched, along with some audience members.

“Huali, have I been a good mother?” She asked breathlessly, her voice fading slightly.

“Oh hell no. The fuck is this bitch saying? You made your own child fight you! And you could’ve avoided that blow if you didn’t dally around and try to be all dramatic.”

“Shut up!” Another voice called out. “You’re ruining the mood!”

The actors resolutely ignored the first person’s commentary.

“I don’t know if I can say you have been the best mother for others, but to me, you are my mother, and that makes you the best one to me.” Peng Huali replied solemnly, his face stoic as he slowly stroked her face.

“I can’t believe I followed this show for so long only to hear this dumbass practically denounce his real mother, who actually treated him well. She’s dead, not a suddenly abusive step-mother. Give some credit to the woman who pushed you out of her-”

“Enough!” Peng Huali stood up on stage. “I’m done with this shit! I quit!” Huali paused. “Hey, that rhymes.” He shook his head.

“Well, whatever. I’m done here. I’ll leave now and take my talents somewhere else. I don’t want to perform here anymore if I have to listen to your crappy commentary each day.”

“Crappy commentary? This script sucks its own dick!”

“I didn’t write this, so don’t blame me!”

“Then can I blame your crappy acting?” The lights in the theater turned on, and the audience finally realized the identity of the rude commentator.

It was a man even more handsome than Peng Huali and Wang Qian combined, dressed in deep purple robes. But his ethereal face wasn’t what drew everyone’s attention. It was the purple half-crown nestled in his dead-straight, long black hair like a headband.

“Oh my god!”

“It’s the Purple Emperor!”

“I can’t believe I was in the same theater as the Purple Emperor!”

“He’s even more handsome in person!”

The Purple Emperor smiled thinly.

“Tell me the name of the author of this play, and I won’t kill you.”

“His- His name is Wen Hua!” Peng Huali stuttered. His face turned ugly.

“Impossible! Master Wen Hua is such a distinguished playwright, there’s no way he could have produced this trash! Unless...” The Purple Emperor facepalmed, frustration with himself visibly mounting.

“I’m still too inexperienced! How could I not see it? It was meant to be ironic. This play was meant to be a commentary on the forced tragedies that most stories suffer from. Brilliant! Master Wen Hua doesn’t disappoint again! He blows away all expectations! Magnificent! Exquisite! Outstanding!” He continued to list on other compliments, completely oblivious to the stares of the other audience members.

The main doors of the building flipped open, letting in a pleasantly chilly breeze and a disheveled looking messenger, whose cloak was flapping wildly as he rushed inside.

“To the Purple Emperor!” He announced, swiftly kneeling on one knee. “You have received a challenge from the Astral Bridge Arena. The challenger goes by the name Ye Siyun, and he wishes to bet with you in this match.”

“Ye Siyun?” The Purple Emperor frowned, eyebrows furrowing just barely in confusion at the unfamiliar name. “Never heard of him. Why should I fight him?”

And there it was. The messenger steeled himself, thinking of all the money he was paid to “encourage” the Purple Emperor to rise up to the challenge. Dredging up the words Ye Siyun had told him to say from his memory, he recited them.

“He says that he will expose your shiny bald head to the world if you don’t agree to this challenge.” After saying those words, the messenger ran away from the deathly quiet theater. Unfortunately, he was too slow. The messenger was grabbed by the back of his collar, his face pulled up so his eyes met the murderous eyes of the Purple Emperor.

“What the fuck did you say about my hair?”

...

In the distance, a bird hurriedly flew off the branch of a tree when a theater in the background shook violently, chirping in annoyance as the tremors reached its perch.

...

“That’s what he said! That’s what he said!” The messenger desperately pointed out. “Even if I was paid one hundred high-class artifacts, I would never say something like that to you!” Yes, he really wouldn’t. It was a good thing he was paid two hundred high-class artifacts to tell him that.

The messenger was dropped like a ragdoll, the Purple Emperor patting off his hand on his robes and looking coldly on at him. Then he turned to everyone in the theater.

“If any of you dare repeat those words, I shall track every one of you and slaughter you all. I’ve already memorized all of your faces. Don’t even think of escaping.” With those parting words he departed, his robes fluttering majestically behind him as he strode out of the building, his hair trailing softly behind him. A few seconds later, when he was away from sight, he spoke lowly, calling out to someone.

“Xiaozi, I need you to remember all the faces of the people inside.” A black robed man shifted uncomfortably from his perch above the theater.

“Master... It can’t be that you’ve forgotten all of their faces already?” The Purple Emperor remained stone-faced.

“Nonsense. I simply don’t believe that I should waste my valuable memory on remembering something as plebeian as some random no-name cultivator’s faces.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Also, take me home when you’re done.”

“Did you-”

“Impossible.” He stuck up his nose at him. “How could I forget where I live?”

“No, I meant the challenge.” The Purple Emperor stiffened.

“I just wanted to take a shower before going there, but if you’re so insistent on going there first, I’ll listen to your advice. You’re lucky you are my closest advisor.”

“Of course, Master.” It was taking all of Xiaozi’s willpower not to scream in frustration.

Just admit it, you dumbass! Everything goes out of your mind the moment you stop thinking about it!