[ He dons white for this task. Plain, serviceable, simple. The robes make him think of death, of Chu Wanning, of the five years he wandered after Chu Wanning's death and rebirth, when he adopted the robes of his former mentor.

When he approaches the temple, he keeps his head lowered, masks his gait into something simple and humble. The incense burns his nose, and he recoils briefly. Reconsiders, thoughts evident in his eyes. It's strong enough that he thinks back to the pleasure house and the girls he knew, the one he was trapped with—

You killed her. Had she not befriended you, she would have been fine. They would have left her alone. You killed her, just like you killed your shizun.

"Shut up," he snaps under his breath, and then closes his eyes, realizing he just insulted his companion. Not what he wanted to do there. ]

Sorry. You can keep talking. [ a brief pause as he reconsiders. ]

Actually, just let me talk. To the priests. We're pilgrims, okay?

[ He's all hastily whispered words, and before his companion can protest, Mo Ran has an arm around them, guiding them toward one of the guards near the entrance to the Halls of the Sleeper.

He can play a devout pilgrim. Five years of penance taught him something. Mo Ran bows to the guard, more formal than necessary, and keeps it for a beat longer than he should. ]

This humble pilgrim and his companion seek entrance to pray to the Chained God. [ He doesn't know what he'd pray to this god for, but Mo Ran has long since abandoned any hope of his prayers being heard. There is no one less deserving of such things.

But he wants to face this god. They need to stop him from awakening, and Mo Ran can do that. He thinks.

Possibly. ]

Please, we humbly beg you.

[ A few more lines, begging and beseeching for entry, staying as humble as he can while doing so. He's good at it, managing to sound sincere and contrite as he speaks.

As though anything you do is humble, Taxian-jun. Emperor of the Cultivation world, begging for entrance to a temple. What a joke you've become.

He grits his teeth against the whispers, and dares to look at the guard, who looks listless, almost bored. He waves them in. ] Yeah, alright, you can go.

[ It feels too simple, but Mo Ran is not one to look too deeply at such things. He murmurs his thanks and then drags his companion to the entrance. The scent of incense chases them, close on their heels. ]

Did they give us a map?