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Chapter 62: TO PRELUDE
🕑 Added 2025-04-29 04:36:26 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
62
TO PRELUDE
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Jieyuan leaned against the brightgold balustrade, arms folded over the guardrail, staring down at the arena floor. Waiting.
Hours had passed since his duel with Meiyao, but the thrill of victory still lingered—dulled, yes, but not gone. Now it simmered low, a hazy warmth beneath the skin, no longer the triumphant, euphoric blaze it had been earlier, when he’d had his blade kissing Meiyao’s neck.
Probably because he wasn’t thinking about that duel anymore. Not much, anyway. Winning had been great—sweet as gold, really, even more so against Meiyao, who had been the one to beat for so long, besides Daojue. But it was the duel coming up next that he was more interested in now.
Daojue and Xianjun had just been called down. The two of them should be starting down the stairwells right now.
It wasn’t the outcome of the duel that Jieyuan was interested in, though. There was only one way that particular coin was landing. Daojue would win. Of course he would—he was Daojue. Never mind that Xianjun was at sixth-sign Redsoul. That if Xianjun had been facing almost any other fourth-sign, it’d have been less of a duel and more of a curb-stomp beatdown.
No—the outcome of the fight wasn’t in question. The question, rather, was how much Xianjun would manage to push Daojue.
Jieyuan thought back to how Xianjun had approached Daojue yesterday, and the strange little chat that had ensued. It wasn’t his first time going over that befuddling bit of interaction.
The odds that Xianjun had actually been seeking Daojue’s blessing to arrange today’s duel—say, out of some misguided sense of honor or fair play—weren’t impossible, granted. It could be that Xianjun was just that sort of person.
Yeah, that’s one bet I’m not taking. Not in a thousand years.
What he would bet on was that Xianjun had been fishing for something.
He had no idea what that something was. But…
I’ve got a feeling I’ll be finding out soon enough.
He glanced over at the Xiyunfeng Clan’s side of the viewing floor, eyeing the elders gathered. Sovereign Zhihao, in particular. The man didn’t seem to notice his gaze, fully concentrated on the empty stage below. Jieyuan stared at him, looking for some hint of—well, anything—but the Xiyunfeng sovereign’s expression was a stony mask.
Mystifying nefarious plot aside, Jieyuan figured Xianjun should at least put up a good fight. It wasn’t luck that got the Xiyunfeng champion a place in the seventh round. Luck could do a world of good for you, but you needed a little bit more than that to stay in the running after two hundred and fifty-six were cut down to four.
That gave Jieyuan hopes that even if he was wrong and it turned out Xianjun didn’t have some card up his sleeve, Xianjun would at least manage to get Daojue to bring out his realmskill. The realmskill Jieyuan was absolutely certain that Daojue had, even if so far his insufferable former teammate had not betrayed even the slightest indication of having one.
But then Jieyuan frowned, recalling all of Daojue’s duels so far and how effortlessly he’d won them.
All right, maybe a realmskill reveal’s hoping for too much. Really, I’ll settle for anything I can use against Daojue tomorrow.
Because all Jieyuan had going for him were his Absolute Mind Command simulations and Fatebloom Intuition, and he wasn’t so sure they’d be enough. Not against Daojue.
Now that he’d gotten this far and had the chance to face Daojue on the big stage, he’d have even been willing to use Absolute Mind Command on Daojue—even though that meant risking revealing his own realmskill, with all the nasty business that would entail. That was how much he wanted a win.
But he’d have only put that much on the line if he thought Absolute Mind Command would be enough to guarantee a win. Which he didn’t. He had a feeling that Daojue would be able to just shrug off any Command sent his way. It might have worked pretty well on Meiyao the last—and only—time he’d tested it on her, but Absolute Mind Command came down to a battle of wills. And based on everything Jieyuan had seen so far, iron will probably didn’t even begin to describe what Daojue had. In fact, there probably wasn’t a single metal or alloy that could measure up to it.
Finding nothing of note over on the Xiyunfeng’s side of the floor, Jieyuan turned his attention to his own side, to a spot some ways off to his left, where the Gleaming Stone Sect’s elders were bunched up. Plus Meiyao and Yongyi.
Meiyao was the easier one to spot. She had her back to him, but the glaring orange of her inner disciple’s robes struck out like a silver on gold against the other colors—mostly Core Court blue—surrounding her. Her hair—chestnut brown, where everyone else’s was pitch-black—stood out nearly as much. As for Yongyi, he’d be the blue-robed man standing next to her, the one without an elder’s light coat.
Palace Head Yiming had called the two of them over a while ago. To discuss family matters, the palace head had said, giving Jieyuan a look and a smile that made it clear that he wasn’t invited, though in a polite enough way.
Closest to Meiyao and Yongyi were Palace Head Yiming, flanked by Protectors Yuyan and Wanxin. Some of the surrounding elders—all of them Liangshibai, given the flashes of bright orange eyes Jieyuan caught as heads turned this way and that—would sometimes contribute something to the conversation, but it seemed to mostly revolve around those five. Yunzhu hung nearby, orbiting her mother as she always did nowadays, but her eyes were on the lower floor rather than on the people around her.
Jieyuan couldn’t make out what they were saying—not from where he was, or with how softly they spoke—but from the look of things, it wasn’t wrapping up anytime soon. Which added up about right. They’d have much to discuss, what with Meiyao’s impending departure—one that could very well see her gone for decades. That kind of thing probably warranted a family chat or two.
Four days, Jieyuan thought. Four.
Four days left before Envoy Guodan would be taking him, Meiyao, and Daojue with her back to the Howling Lightning Sect.
Or at least that was the idea.
Tomorrow was the eighth and final round. The day after, an additional round to settle any ranking ties and disputes—those were very much a thing, from what he’d heard, with each cabal fighting tooth and nail to improve their disciple’s rankings. Then there’d be one day for the big shots of each cabal to gather up and strike deals based on those all-important rankings. Plenty of bickering and drama involved, if Palace Head Yiming was to be believed, and Jieyuan was inclined to believe him. His own, non-insignificant experience with backroom dealings checked out.
And then, finally, on the last day of Yellowlack, the summit would wrap up for good. Everyone would get together one last time to wave off Envoy Guodan in this neat little ceremony and hope nobody had given her reason to decide the local maps would look better without the Radiant Gold District on it. And she’d be taking away with her the disciples she’d scouted.
Now it was the woman in question he turned his eyes to.
The envoy stood almost directly opposite him on the upper floor, in her dark blue, purplish robes, cast in the glow of the brightgold all around them. The only one near her was Sovereign Aoxin. As usual, the rest of the Radiant Gold Sect kept a respectful—and healthy—distance.
More than Envoy Guodan herself, though, it was what she represented that Jieyuan focused on—that there wasn’t even a week left before he left the Radiant Gold District for good. In fact, a week from now, he should already be in the Howling Lightning Sect. That was—assuming everything turned out as planned. Which, after yesterday, seemed less likely than ever.
Over on the Viridian Death Cult’s side, Jieyuan found High Priest Tangqiao near the back. And just beside the old priest, the core disciple Baisenzhou Houliao, purported prophet of the Viridian Death Cult. The rest of the Viridian Death Cult’s elders surrounded them, and they all seemed to be discussing something. Jieyuan studied them as carefully as he’d studied the Xiyunfeng earlier, looking for anything that could clue him in on something bigger.
Weeks ago, while they were overflying Radiant Gold City and Jieyuan had set his eyes on the Viridian Dome, Huaxin had sent Jieyuan a premonition. An omen. And Jieyuan had known, then, that he’d be getting caught up with the Viridian Death Forest eventually. And then yesterday had happened.
“Seek the Viridian,” Jieyuan murmured. Like saying the words would somehow make them make sense. Baisenzhou Houliao, resident Viridian Eye wonder, oracle-slash-nuisance, dropping prophecies no one had asked for. Granted, prophecies had a way of showing up uninvited—and almost never with anything good to say. If they didn’t come with a full serving of doom and gloom, could you even call it a prophecy?
Now, Jieyuan’s grasp on the Viridian Death Faith was—well, non-existent. He hardly even had so much as a pinkie on it. All he knew was that the less he had to do with it, the better. Which was all he’d ever needed to know, growing up.
Still, it hardly took a mastery in Viridian Death Theology to puzzle out that seeking the Viridian probably involved a trip to the Viridian Death Forest. Not just into the Viridian Death Forest, in fact, but into the Viridian Dome. The legendary death zone known for eating up several Yellowsoul scouting parties and not even spitting the bones out.
How that could happen, though—now that was the stumper. Jieyuan tried to imagine a scenario that could force him—and Meiyao, and presumably Daojue—into walking straight toward certain death like that. And he came up short. Because for something like that to happen, well…
His eyes found their way back to Envoy Guodan. To the sole orangesoul around. To the woman who could very well wipe out any of the city’s cabals down to a man on her own.
She didn’t look like much. Average height, average build. Handsome in a hard, unforgiving sort of way—if you were being generous. Walk by her in a crowd and forget a second look—she wouldn’t warrant even a first one. But not everyone could be Meiyaos and Daojues, with the looks to go with their talent, and there was no questioning Envoy Guodan’s power and status.
As long as she was around, nothing would happen to the three of them. Or so it went, in theory.
Which meant that whatever was about to come would require taking her out of the picture.
Just the thought of that chilled Jieyuan. Because supposed that happened. Suppose the envoy did get taken out of the picture, that something happened to her.
Fantastic. Splendid. Everyone would be screwed six ways to Silverday, then, because that meant the Howling Lightning Sect would come knocking next.
Jieyuan had never seen an orangesoul in action, but he’d heard plenty of rumors of what they were capable of. A handful or so of them should be able to wipe the entirety of the Radiant Gold District—the city, and all four cabals connected to it—off the map in a matter of hours. All in a day’s work, really.
And the Howling Lightning Sect didn’t have just a handful of orangesoul—it had thousands of them, to throw at its problems as it pleased.
Jieyuan pursed his lips, thinking. It was possible that the Viridian Death Forest would only come into play further down the line. Neither Huaxin’s premonition nor Houliao’s prophecy had had the decency to specify a time frame. It wasn’t like something couldn’t take them back to the Radiant Gold City later.
But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Jieyuan just couldn’t shake off the feeling that whatever was going to happen, it’d happen soon. Before they left. And so he couldn’t help but turn it over and over in his head, trying to think of what else he could do to prepare for it, to stack his odds of getting out of it alive.
The envoy looked up. Jieyuan wasn’t ashamed to admit he froze as her eyes locked onto his, all the way across the floor. She cocked her head, and his stomach responded with a lovely little lurch.
Mind blanking, instinct taking over—it was hardly the first time he’d been caught staring at someone who could squash him like a bug, what with being the son of a merchant that dealt with cultivators—Jieyuan quickly gave a respectful half-nod, half-bow. Envoy Guodan’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before she gave a little nod back and returned her attention to the stage.
It was a good thing, Jieyuan reckoned, that he probably ranked important enough to warrant some leeway from the envoy, but not enough to really draw her interest. Not like Daojue did, at any rate.
Following the envoy’s lead, Jieyuan focused down on the arena floor. Daojue and Xianjun should be coming out any moment now. He stashed all other unrelated thoughts away for later sessions of brain-racking—he was going nowhere fast dwelling on fate and future like that, and he had a duel to focus on.
Sure enough, Daojue stepped out onto the arena floor from the entrance directly underneath where Jieyuan was standing. Xianjun came out from the opposite side just a beat later.
Daojue and Xianjun made straight for the center stage, both of them covering ground in long, easy strides.
Daojue reached it first, of course. Xianjun was no midget, but each of Daojue’s strides was easily twice an average man’s. It was hard to compete.
What came next wasn’t any different from the standard fare. The two of them got on the stage, drew their weapons—or at least Xianjun did, drawing and joining the two halves of his halberd together, while Daojue had already had Gleaming End out—and the proctor went over the rules.
As usual, the weapons at play—Xianjun’s halberd and Gleaming End—were wrapped entirely in a gear-shroud, masking both their spirit-song and spirit-shadow, keeping their properties secret.
Meiyao and Yongyi remained with their family, though they drew a bit closer to the railing and weren’t talking anymore.
“BEGIN!”
