Work Text:
Wei Wuxian carefully read through the long requirements presented by the system, scrolling down to review the ridiculous number of clauses he had to fulfill—even the fine print—just for a chance to repair his mistakes.
In short, if Wei Wuxian managed to play the role of “Cheong Myeong” for one week without anyone discovering the soul swap, he would be granted a second chance at life. He could go back in time, to when he was only a teenager, and do things differently. He could save them all. It seemed too good to be true, but Wei Wuxian was already dead, and they weren't asking him for something like the Stygian Tiger Seal, so what was the worst that could happen, that his soul would be scattered?
Never before had he put so much effort into reading something as long as the Lan sect’s sacred scriptures. But he did. He persisted and finally reached the end. Wei Wuxian checked his acceptance of the terms and conditions before accepting the role.
Some of the rules could be inferred: the user must act as Cheong Myeong, must not reveal the soul exchange, must avoid affecting existing relationships within reason, must perform Cheong Myeong’s duties while inhabiting his body, etc.
He could act as “Cheong Myeong” for a week; after all, his acting skills were stellar, and they had already provided him with a basic profile and information about Cheong Myeong. Honestly, how hard could it be to impersonate a newly initiated disciple in a sect?
Now, the rest depended on Wei Wuxian.
[Cheong Myeong, 18 years old, third-class disciple of the Mount Hua Sect. Generally spends his day training alongside his martial brothers. His goal is to restore his sect’s former glory.]
The existence known as system writed.
Wei Wuxian had never heard of a Mount Hua Sect, yet from the name alone he could deduce the location of the temple and the city it belonged to. If it were in his native world, it would likely be near the territory of Qishan Wen.
The key detail in the information he received, however, was the last line: restore the former glory. It seemed to be a once-great sect that had fallen over time. There were plenty of examples of that even in his own world. That also meant it was unlikely they would leave the sect during the week he would be taking Cheong Myeong’s place.
Wei Wuxian pondered this while dressing in the sect’s uniform (deliberately ignoring the thief-like clothes in the corner of the wardrobe with some doubt—but well, he had once been a young disciple too), and tying his hair into a high ponytail as usual. As a third-class disciple, that style shouldn’t be inappropriate.
Now it was time to go meet the other disciples. Well, if Wei Wuxian acted pleasant but distant, avoiding too much contact with his martial brothers within reason—perhaps as if he were sick—that should be enough.
When he opened the dormitory doors, which overlooked the training field, he was startled to see the boys already drenched in sweat, doing push-ups with rocks the size of small carts on their backs.
Wei Wuxian stood still at the edge of the training ground, trying to decipher the strange scene of torture happening in broad daylight at a Daoist temple.
These kids… what kind of trouble did they get into to deserve this?
One boy—Jo Geol, as the system kindly informed him with a floating box above his head—quickly approached him.
“Cheong Myeong-ah! My god, we were wondering what you were doing. Didn’t you tell us to prepare for today’s lesson?”
“Oh, did I?” Wei Wuxian reevaluated the disciples around him, his lips curving into a half-smile by reflex. So Wei Wuxian must be their dashixiong (and with a good relationship, if the affectionate suffix was any indication), a position he was at least familiar with, and now he had to instruct a class. “Well done. Are you ready?”
Jo Geol looked a little bewildered, if not suspicious, but obediently turned to greet the new disciple approaching them—Baek Cheon.
“Sasuk!”
Baek Cheon smiled pleasantly. He looked like a model disciple. According to the system, he was the dashixiong of the second-class disciples, which made him Cheong Myeong’s direct superior in a sense. Wei Wuxian did not bow—since Jo Geol, his shidi, hadn’t—but he did greet him.
“Good morning, Sasuk.”
Baek Cheon’s eyes widened slightly, visibly perplexed, but he returned the greeting. “Good morning… Ah, that cheerful face of yours gives me a bad feeling.”
Jo Geol perked up beside him. “Right? I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking that. He must be plotting a new training regimen.”
Though they spoke as if it were something terrible, Wei Wuxian could see the barely suppressed smiles on their faces. He smiled proudly, puffing out his chest the same way he did when he was about to show off in front of his shidimei, and challenged them brightly. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
That seemed to provoke more than Wei Wuxian intended, because Baek Cheon frowned, fists clenched and eyes blazing.
“Don’t you dare go easy on us!”
Jo Geol was already grinning with a determined scowl—the kind his shidimei wore when they bit off more than they could chew—but he still declared passionately that he would take whatever was thrown at him.
Since Baek Cheon and Jo Geol reacted so well to his smiles and usual mischievous behavior, Wei Wuxian decided to act a little more like himself.
“Then follow me.”
With those words and a casual gesture of his hand, Wei Wuxian walked toward the center of the training field, thinking about what he could teach them. He instinctively traced the pommel of his sword, recalling a few tricks that might be useful—until he remembered the flips he used to perform mid-air atop his blade. Surely they hadn’t learned that yet, right?
With a flick of his wrist, Wei Wuxian unsheathed his sword, putting the surrounding disciples instantly on guard. Every single disciple had already placed a hand on their sword hilt, taking positions as though they were about to duel a single opponent—so seriously that the only thing he could think was: How amusing!
‘It seems I really am the dashixiong… but why do even the second-class disciples look ready to receive instruction? Perhaps that boy is the future sect leader.’
That would explain Cheong Myeong’s goal of “restoring the sect’s former glory.” If he were the current leader’s son or something similar, it would naturally become his duty and life’s purpose. Wei Wuxian resolved not to damage the reputation of this small future sect leader—just as he would hope that, if someone were in his position borrowing Jiang Cheng’s body, they would take care of Jiang Cheng’s reputation among the other disciples.
Channeling spiritual energy into his sword, he searched for a connection to its consciousness—but found nothing.
No, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He found a small spark of awareness, more like the echo of a primitive emotion. Without a doubt, Cheong Myeong had maintained a deep bond with his sword—but it would need something more if he wanted to awaken true consciousness within it.
Wei Wuxian looked up at the disciples waiting expectantly.
‘Ah. A fallen sect, right?’
They could hardly afford to buy a sentient sword.
Perhaps he should change plans.
“Do you want to learn how to give your swords consciousness?”
The training field erupted with sudden exclamations.