Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

A cold mist carrying fine frost particles drifted through the forest, and icicles that had formed on the bare branches gleamed with a chilling light, making the entire forest appear even more desolate.

The wind rustled through the withered grass, and mixed with the icy energy surging around Mo Yun, it made the air seem to freeze crisp.

Mo Yun's stance, holding the spear, was as steady as a rock. His dark robes fluttered in the cold wind, and the icy aura around him had reached its peak. The icy light condensing at the tip of the spear grew increasingly intense, emitting a piercing sharp sound as it cut through the air.

Iron Face gripped the sword at his waist with both hands. The blade swirled with the unique chaos of the Du Sect, yet it appeared somewhat dim under the overwhelming aura of Mo Yun.

He mustered his last ounce of strength to parry with his sword, each strike carrying a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve, but the difference in their power was ultimately insurmountable.

"clang--"

The crisp sound of metal clashing against metal exploded through the forest, causing the surrounding frost to fall in a flurry.

Iron Face's sword was struck hard by the tip of Mo Yun's spear, the force of which traveled along the blade and instantly split open. Blood slid down the hilt and dripped onto the frozen ground, where it was instantly frozen into dark red ice beads by the cold air.

The barrier shattered instantly, and the spear tip of Moyun, still brimming with momentum, slammed heavily into the shoulder blade of the iron-faced man.

There was no fatal puncture, only a dull, heavy force carrying a bone-chilling cold, instantly shattering the aura surrounding him.

Iron Face groaned, a piercing pain shooting through his shoulder blade. It wasn't a fracture, but rather the icy energy had invaded his meridians, instantly sealing off most of his energy-generating acupoints. A sudden wave of numbness and exhaustion washed over his limbs and bones.

The sword flew out of his hand, rolling a long way across the frozen ground, snapping several dry grass stems along the way. The golden light gradually dimmed as his master's aura dissipated, eventually fading into silence.

Iron Face staggered back several steps, the frozen ground beneath his feet crunching under his feet, until his legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees.

He braced his hands on the cold earth, his knuckles white from the effort, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently, each breath accompanied by the sluggish feeling of his meridians being blocked.

His bangs, soaked with sweat and traces of blood from the corners of his mouth, clung messily to his pale face. The usual majesty of the Commander of the Imperial Guard had been replaced by utter disarray.

Upon seeing this, the two imperial guards behind him narrowed their eyes and instinctively drew their short blades from their waists, roaring as they rushed forward to provide support.

But as soon as they took two steps, their ankles were entangled by two icy energies swept by Mo Yun.

The icy energy, though seemingly gentle, possessed an extremely strong binding force. The two slipped and fell heavily to the ground. The icy energy then spread upwards, instantly sealing their meridians.

The two lay on the ground, futilely twisting their bodies, unable even to lift their hands, their eyes filled with anxiety and helplessness.

Mo Yun stood before Tie Mian, gun in hand, the tip hanging at her side. The icy light gradually subsided, but it still carried a chilling aura.

His eyes, slightly clouded by the chaos, were covered with an unyielding frost. His gaze towards the iron-faced man was utterly unwavering, his tone flat and even, yet exuding an undeniable air of authority.

"If you move again, I'll destroy all your energy."

Iron Face slowly raised his head, and in the dim light of the forest, one could clearly see Mo Yun's young yet cold and hard face.

He raised his hand to wipe away the faint traces of blood that had seeped from the corner of his mouth. His fingertips touched something icy cold, but instead of showing any fear, he slowly smiled at Mo Yun.

There was no fawning or pleading in that smile, only a hint of candor and a touch of self-deprecating humor born of surviving a catastrophe. His voice was hoarse, as if sanded, yet it still carried clearly.

"Heh... As expected of Mo Yun of the Body Sect. Sect Master Mo Lan, you have such a good son."

The two characters “Mo Lan” were like a fine needle, unexpectedly piercing the cold, hard shell that Chaos had built in Mo Yun’s heart.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and the icy aura around him surged for a moment, causing the tip of his spear to tremble slightly and scatter a few tiny ice shards.

He didn't speak, but his fingers gripping the gun handle tightened unconsciously, his knuckles turning white, clearly moved by those two words.

Iron Face ignored his reaction, simply shaking his head. His gaze fell on Mo Yun's icy spear, a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

"Such pure energy, such skill... Even an ordinary Peking Opera Cat could never achieve this in a lifetime. It seems that chaos will eventually be annihilated by you."

Upon hearing these words, the cold wind in the forest seemed to pause for a moment.

Iron Face's gaze was somewhat unfocused, but his consciousness became unusually clear, drifting uncontrollably into the distance.

The image of the first time he met An gradually surfaced in his mind—that figure always shrouded in thick, chaotic mist, its specific features obscured, exuding an eerie yet majestic aura. Every breath it took tainted the surrounding air with a chaotic, decaying smell, instilling a sense of instinctive fear in people.

Even so, the power that An displayed back then never had the same oppressive feeling as Mo Yun, which was so pure that it could suppress chaos and leave people with no power to resist.

At that time, he naively believed that chaos was a power that could overturn everything, a reliance that allowed them, the Peking Opera Cats who were not successful in the sect, to control their own destiny.

By following the darkness, we can break the old order and establish a world of chaos.

But today, facing the ink rhyme directly, he was shocked to realize that the chaos brought only a distorted and temporary power, which could not ultimately withstand the powerful rhyme force that was rooted in the heart and originated from the true nature of the person.

Darkness... that being they revered as a god was far inferior to this young man from the Shen Sect before them.

This realization weighed heavily on his heart like a boulder, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He turned his neck with difficulty, his gaze passing over Mo Yun's shoulder and landing on Wu Qing not far away. Wu Qing was still leaning against that piece of dead wood, his eyes slightly closed, his long eyelashes casting a faint shadow under his eyelids.

The rise and fall of his chest was so faint as to be almost imperceptible. The chaotic aura around him had dimmed considerably due to his previous severe injuries. The once sharp and intimidating aura that made people afraid to look directly at him was now just a deathly silence, like a withered tree struck by severe frost, devoid of any vitality.

Looking at his appearance, the smile on Iron Face slowly faded, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness. He had come under orders from Darkness, hoping that with his brute strength and the secret techniques of the Supervisory Sect, he could snatch this "brother" back from Mo Yun.

After all, although they had never gotten along during their time as supervisors of the clan, they were ultimately from the same lineage and had an unknown bond with each other.

But now, he himself is a prisoner, his meridians sealed, unable to move, and unable even to protect himself. The guards behind him have also been subdued, powerless to resist.

These Peking Opera cats, infected by chaos, were utterly powerless before the absolute power of rhythm.

"Hey……"

A soft sigh escaped his throat, so faint it seemed almost to be swept away by the cold wind, yet it carried with it endless melancholy and despair.

"In the end... am I going to fail here?"

The "death" he spoke of did not refer to death—such ruthless killing is rare in the world of Peking Opera Cats. Yunli's original intention was to protect, not to destroy.

But he knew that once they were subdued by Mo Yun, the unpurified chaos within them would inevitably lead to purification.

But the chaos has been raging in the body for so many years, and has long since penetrated deep into the meridians and bone marrow. How can it be so easy to eradicate?

If the purification fails and the chaos completely backfires, they will become mindless monsters.

Even if they are lucky enough to survive, they will most likely be guarded by various sects and imprisoned for life in a dark and sunless place, allowing chaos to gradually erode their consciousness, eventually turning them into walking corpses.

What difference is there between that ending and "death"?

As if sensing his gaze, Wuqing slowly opened her eyes.

Those deep eyes no longer held their former arrogance and mockery, nor their scheming and sharpness; only a grayness, identical to Iron Face, remained, like obsidian covered in dust, devoid of any luster.

Their eyes met, without words or even eye contact, yet they both understood the despair in each other's hearts—in the end, they could not escape the fate of being swept up by chaos and punished by the power of rhythm.

Mo Yun took in all the changes in Tie Mian's expression, from his initial composure to his later melancholy, and now to his despair. Every fluctuation of his emotions did not escape his eyes.

Hearing Iron Face's words, which sounded like a sigh and a lament, his grip on the gun handle loosened slightly.

His mind, influenced by chaos, made him instinctively loathe his fellow beings who were corrupted by chaos, seeing them as heretics who were disrupting order.

But Iron Face's words, "Chaos will eventually be annihilated by you," inexplicably stirred something within him.

He could sense the resentment in the stern tone, not resentment at defeat, but resentment at the chaos and powerlessness; he could also catch a trace of entanglement in the cold gaze that even he himself had not noticed, a complex emotion that, even though they were at odds, they could not sit idly by.

The surging icy energy around him gradually subsided, and the chill lessened somewhat.

Mo Yun ignored the iron mask and the guards on the ground, instead turning her head and shouting towards a direction shrouded in frost and mist in the forest:

"Bai Tang, Xiao Qing, Wu Song! Come here and purify the chaos! I have suppressed them."

His voice pierced through layers of cold mist, carrying the unique clarity of Shen Zong Yunli, echoing through the empty forest.

Iron Face paused for a moment, then looked in the direction of the sound. He saw a series of hurried footsteps coming from the thick frost and fog, accompanied by the clear voice unique to young people.

"Here I am! Brother Moyun, have you finished?" Baitang's voice was filled with excitement as she emerged from the fog first.

He was dressed in a smart orange and white outfit, surrounded by a warm aura, like a beam of light that instantly dispelled much of the chill in the forest.

Following closely behind were Xiaoqing and Wusong.

Xiaoqing, dressed in a light green dress, held a jade flute in her hand. Watery energy flowed gently around her as her eyes warily scanned the scene.

Wu Song remained as arrogant as ever. His red outfit made his face appear even colder. He held his spear diagonally across his shoulder, the fire energy subtly undulating. When his gaze fell on Tie Mian and Wu Qing, it was filled with undisguised hostility.

Looking at the three vibrant figures and the pure, life-giving energy emanating from them, Iron Face glanced down at his own sealed meridians and the dim, decaying chaotic aura around him, and a bitter smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

In the end, it still fell into the hands of these "righteous" Peking Opera cats.

Wuqing also looked up at Baitang and the other two, his eyes showing no emotion. He simply closed his eyes slowly, as if accepting his impending fate.

The cold mist still lingered in the forest, and the icicles on the dead trees still gleamed coldly. However, the arrival of Bai Tang and his companions added an unknown variable to the thick, unyielding atmosphere of despair.

Neither Iron Face nor Ruthless spoke; they simply waited quietly for that moment of purification—a moment that might bring liberation or even greater despair.

Mo Yun stood to the side, gun in hand, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, lost in thought. The icy chill emanating from her seemed to have lessened slightly.