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    Summary

    “Who are you?”
    The boy grins, deliberately showing off his canines and Wei Wuxian knows that look. It’s the look of someone starving but trying not to show his hunger. Only—Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure this boy isn’t looking for food.
    If he did, he came to the wrong place, anyway. There’s barely enough to go around.
    “I’m your new disciple,” the boy says, pushing off the post. His smile goes sharp again, assessing. “I want to learn demonic cultivation. You’re some sort of grandmaster, right? The founder? I wanna learn from the best.”
    Wei Wuxian fights the urge to laugh out loud. This lad has no idea what he’s asking. Wei Wuxian’s not the grandmaster of anything.

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