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Chapter 49: IN FOR GOLD
🕑 Added 2024-11-29 14:31:00 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
49
IN FOR GOLD
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Now, Jieyuan loved gold as much as the next man. He was a merchant’s son. In fact, he’d even say gold was the color he liked the most.
But as he stepped inside the Radiant Gold Palace, he was reminded both that you could have too much of a good thing, and that just because you could do something, that didn’t mean you should.
The outside of the Radiant Gold Palace was already bad enough, but the inside was arguably worse. It was all brightgold. Glaring and glowing. No matter where you looked. Walls, floor, ceiling—everything. It’d been years since he’d been inside the Radiant Gold Palace, and he’d forgotten how bad it was. And now that he was a cultivator, his sharpened senses only made the experience worse.
He’d just crossed the massive pair of doors at the end of the yard into the room, together with the rest of the Gleaming Stone Palace’s delegation. He’d wondered what he’d find on the other side, and though he was already very much used to cultivators and their approach to scale, he was still taken aback.
He was in an amphitheater of sorts, on the higher level. The room was a massive thing, several dozen times the size of the already expansive training chamber back in Gleaming Stone Palace.
Further ahead was a railing—a good fifty paces away, if not more—and beyond it, the view of the lower level, where several separate raised square platforms that could only be dueling stages were spread out. A total of five of them, with four of them arranged around a bigger one in the middle. Like how it was in the Gleaming Stone Palace, except these stages were several times bigger.
The balcony they were on stretched throughout all four walls of the hall, overlooking the fighting stages below. The different delegations spread themselves out throughout this upper level, organizing themselves. And as Protector Zhaoyong led their group, a black-robed party made their way over.
Jieyuan and the others had retreated deeper into the group after Envoy Guodan had left and their delegation had entered the palace, but they were still much closer to the front than they’d been before, just behind the line of high protectors. Because of this, Jieyuan had a clear view of the incoming party.
Three men and two women, all of them in the trim, sleek black robes of the Xiyunfeng Clan. By the clothes he wore, Jieyuan identified the tall, austere middle-aged man leading that group as the sovereign protector of the clan, Xiyunfeng Zhihao. The slightly taller young man by his side wore the attire of a core disciple of the Xiyunfeng Clan, and Jieyuan had an inkling of who it was, given who he was walking beside and how he was the only core disciple in the incoming party. Xiyunfeng Xianjun, Sovereign Zhihao’s son and apprentice.
The Xiyunfeng Clan was an unbound clan, unlike the Liangshibai Clan and the other clans Jieyuan was more familiar with, which were subordinated to the Gleaming Stone Sect, and as such, considered adjunct clans. The Xiyunfeng Clan was a cabal in its own right, and the only way to become a member was to be adopted into it. In practice, though, there wasn’t that much difference between it and a sect. Most sects had a royal clan, usually one formed by the sect’s founder, and if you wanted to occupy one of the more prestigious positions in the organization, being adopted was often a prerequisite. As had been the case with Sect Leader Junjie.
Jieyuan didn’t know much about the father and son pair. Or about the Xiyunfeng Clan as a whole, really. Most of what he’d known about cultivators, prior to becoming one himself, had been about the Radiant Gold Sect because of his family’s ties to it, and after he became a cultivator, he’d already had his hands full with the Gleaming Stone Sect and its matters. As a whole, though, the Xiyunfeng Clan had a fairly neutral reputation.
They were the youngest of the district’s cabals, as well as the smallest and the weakest. He didn’t know much else about them. They were a fairly secretive bunch. Not nearly to the same extent as the Viridian Death Cult, but still enough that all Jieyuan knew about them was that they were a fairly ambitious bunch and weren’t exactly fond of their place at the bottom of the district’s food chain.
But that was hardly a surprise. If there was something cultivators didn’t lack, it was ambition. It took a special kind of mentality to subject yourself to mind-breaking pain on a regular basis in exchange for power.
Sovereign Zhihao and the Xiyunfeng elders with him briefly greeted the Gleaming Stone Sect’s elders. They were all courteous about it, but Jieyuan was paying attention, so he noticed that when it came Sovereign Zhihao and Sect Leader Junjie’s turn, there was no hand-shaking, and all that came out of it were two shallow nods from both parties, both men’s expressions dipping briefly into unfriendly, if not outright hostile, territory. Jieyuan could’ve imagined it, though. Sect Leader Junjie’s resting face was already on the somber end of the spectrum—to put it nicely—and though this was Jieyuan’s first time seeing Sovereign Zhihao, he got the impression the man was minted in the same mint as the sect leader.
Sovereign Zhihao then motioned for the core disciple he’d brought along to come forward. And, sure enough, the man said, “I thought it’d be a good idea for our children to get to know each other. This is my son and apprentice, Xianjun.”
Xianjun had his father’s austere lines and severe eyes, but unlike Sovereign Zhihao, the core disciple wore a smile that could’ve passed for friendly as he greeted the upper echelons of the Gleaming Stone Sect. He was close enough for Jieyuan to sense his soul. A sixth-sign redsoul, much like Yongyi.
What really drew Jieyuan’s attention, though, was the sheath Xianjun carried on either side of his waist. Long sheathes, those meant to carry split polearms. Not just that, the left one sheath had an open-ended design, revealing a long, broad, spearhead-like blade, with a curved blade like that of a great axe extending from one side of it, and a smaller, hooked spike jutting out from the other. A halberd. Not something you saw all that often.
Sect Leader Junjie barely gave the younger Xiyunfeng a glance. Then, turning his head back, he nodded to Yongyi, who readily stepped forward, placing himself directly across Xianjun. “This is my son, Yongyi.”
Sovereign Zhihao gave Yongyi a considering look. “Indeed. I remember you, from the last Summit. Even back then, as a second-sign redsoul, you availed yourself rather well. And those yellow eyes of yours—there’s no forgetting those. A third-order heavenly affinity is quite the rarity.” Not giving Yongyi an opportunity to respond, Sovereign Zhihao looked back to Sect Leader Junjie. “But that’s not all, is it? I believe you have another child. A daughter—one with even higher heavenly affinity.”
The way Zhihao said that—and this whole situation, really—set Jieyuan on edge. There was something more to this little meeting, beyond even the veiled words and charged looks. And there was definitely something going on between Sovereign Zhihao and Sect Leader Junjie. Sovereign Zhihao’s equal here—the one he should have been addressing—was Chief Protector Zhaoyong, but apart from his initial greeting, the Xiyunfeng sovereign barely looked at the Gleaming Stone Sect’s chief protector, dealing instead with the sect leader.
Sect Leader Junjie said nothing for several moments. When he did speak, his voice was hard, and he didn’t turn around, not looking away from Sovereign Zhihao. “Meiyao,” he said, curtly, like he was forcing the word out of his throat and through his lips.
Meiyao was to Jieyuan’s left, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she frowned, lingering in place for a beat, then two, before she let out a small sigh and moved to stand beside her half-brother. “Elders,” she said, stiffly, with a look that made it clear that she wasn’t happy about any of this.
Both Sovereign Zhihao and his son focused on her, and Jieyuan paid close attention to their reactions. Zhihao looked taken aback for a moment, before stealing a quick glance at his father. And while that was curious, Sovereign Zhihao’s reaction was even more so. He stared, transfixed, at Meiyao, before murmuring, “Lianhua.”
It was barely more than a whisper, so soft that Jieyuan almost didn’t catch it.
Sect Leader Junjie stiffened, and so did many of the Liangshibai present. Meiyao, for her part, frowned up at the man. “Did you know my mother, Sovereign?”
Sovereign Zhihao seemed to be at a loss for words. “Know her? I…” He trailed off. “Yes. Yes, I did. You look just like she did at your age, did you know? You sound like her, too. You two even have the same heavenly affinity, if what I’ve heard is true.” The man leaned forward, and Jieyuan got the feeling that the man wasn’t thinking all that straight right now, that he wasn’t all that cognizant of where he was. “Tell me, Meiyao, do you intend to take Envoy Guodan’s offer—”
“Sovereign Zhihao,” Sect Leader Junjie cut in with all the subtlety of a lightning strike, “that is a matter of the Gleaming Stone Sect.”
“Ah.” Immediately, Sovereign Zhihao gathered himself, standing up straighter. “Indeed.”
The man shifted his gaze back to the sect leader. And if the way he looked at Meiyao’s father was hard before, now it was sharp, cutting. “My apologies. I forget myself. It’s just… it’s been years, but Lianhua’s sudden… disappearance still weighs heavily on my mind and soul. I only hope that should her daughter remain in the Gleaming Stone Sect as she did, the same… fate won’t befall her.”
Sect Leader Junjie stepped forward, his stony expression giving way to something dark and dangerous. “Are you insinuating that—”
“Junjie! Zhihao!”
Both men whipped their heads in the direction of the voice, as did everyone else. Walking over to them was Sovereign Aoxin, beside her a young man, one Jieyuan had only seen once, from afar, but still recognized. He resembled the sovereign, with his tall stature, wide jaw, and prominent brows, even if unlike the woman he didn’t really have much in the way of jewelry on him. Sovereign Aoxin’s nephew and apprentice, Wujinyao Dayang.
Meiyao’s supposed betrothed.
“What’s this?” Sovereign Aoxin said, inserting herself between the two men, smiling wryly. “Bickering already? Haven’t the two of you had enough of that the past few days? Come, now. You’re in front of your disciples, your children. At least pretend to have some semblance of decorum.”
Sovereign Zhihao snorted, and Sect Leader Junjie remained where he was, not taking his eyes off the Xiyunfeng sovereign, his gaze still dark and warning. Sovereign Aoxin shook her head in a very convincing impression of a mother exasperated with her unruly children’s antics.
Jieyuan found himself rather taken aback by all of it. The three of them—Sect Leader Junjie, Sovereign Zhihao, and Sovereign Aoxin—were from the same generation, as far as Jieyuan knew, and he expected they’d know each other, but this was a level of familiarity he hadn’t thought would exist between members of different cabals. Before he joined the Gleaming Stone Sect, he’d been under the impression that cultivators as a whole were rather isolationist, and up to this point he hadn’t been given reason to think otherwise.
Having smothered the conflict between Sovereign Zhihao and Sect Leader Junjie—or, at the very least, put it on hold, because both men still looked like they’d be more than willing to head down to one of the stages on the ground floor and fight it out to the death—Aoxin focused her attention on Meiyao. The older woman’s wry, mock smile turned into a proper one, softening, warming.
“Oh, my dear girl, you don’t know how good it is to see you again. I—” Sovereign Aoxin stopped herself short, blinking, as Meiyao leveled her with a glare, the biting, icy sort that in Jieyuan’s experience was usually reserved for her father.
“Meiyao?” Sovereign Aoxin asked. “Is something wrong, dear?”
Deliberately, Meiyao glanced over at Dayang, then at her father, and then back to the sovereign. She did so in a drawn-out way, so that anyone looking at her could perfectly track where her gaze fell. “No, Sovereign,” she said, the frost in her voice matching the one in her eyes.
“Oh.” Sovereign Aoxin’s face soured.
Just beside the woman, Dayang reached forward, putting a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. The Wujinyao scion’s eyes were on Meiyao, his expression determined, and he looked as if he was about to speak when Meiyao shifted her glare to him, stumping him. Then, before he could get any words out, Meiyao turned around, abruptly, and marched back into the body of the Gleaming Stone Sect’s delegation, coming to a stop a little further behind Jieyuan.
The disciples near her didn’t seem to know whether they were supposed to draw away or stay still. And then Jieyuan found himself staring straight at Dayang—not because Dayang had turned to look at him, but because Jieyuan had moved slightly to the side and forward, blocking Meiyao from view.
Dayang narrowed his eyes at him. Not in a threatening or malicious manner, but like he was taking his measure. Jieyuan stared back, similarly assessing, all the while well aware that the core disciple from the Radiant Gold Sect was hardly the only one looking at him now. Dayang was now just at the edge of his soulsense, and Jieyuan found that he was another sixth-sign redsoul, like Yongyi and Xianjun.
He’d expected about as much. It was unlikely that any of the disciples here would be higher than that. According to Yiming, out of the two-hundred and fifty-six disciples participating in the Summit, only about two dozen or so were usually at sixth-sign. Under normal circumstances, the remaining ones would be at fifth-sign, barring any exceptions. Exceptions like himself, Meiyao, and Daojue.
The oldest disciple taking part in the Summit would be twenty-three. The Summit happened every five years, and only disciples who entered a Summit year got to participate twice. Yongyi himself had only just turned twenty-three, and Jieyuan was pretty sure Xianjun and Dayang were around the same age, maybe younger by a couple of months. Which spoke to their dedication, because Yongyi was supposedly the only one with third-order affinity this Summit year. Both Dayang and Xianjun could only be second-orders, then, meaning they’d have to suffer quite a bit more than Yongyi to reach the same soulsign.
“Sovereign Aoxin,” Sect Leader Junjie said, drawing the others’ attention to him, “are the preparations ready?”
“Nearly.” Sovereign Aoxin looked over to the left, toward the railing, and Jieyuan followed her gaze down to the lower level, where men in golden robes were approaching the stages. “I came to inform you that the envoy… requested some adjustments to the order of the matches, although not to the match-ups themselves. Besides that, we’re proceeding as planned.”
“Very well,” Sect Leader Junjie said. “If you’ll excuse us, then? We’d like to impart some words upon our disciples before the matches begin.”
“Of course.” Sovereign Aoxin nodded. “I plan on doing much the same.”
“We’ll be taking our leave as well, then,” Sovereign Zhihao said.
And as both the parties from the Radiant Gold Sect and the Xiyunfeng Clan left, Jieyuan, still standing in front of Meiyao, caught, probably better than anyone else, the way both Dayang and Sovereign Zhihao sent lingering looks Meiyao’s way before finally turning around.
And as the two parties moved away, Jieyuan noticed another pair of eyes, from across the floor, where the Viridian Death Cult delegation had settled themselves. The high priest, Tangqiao, eyes a piercing black beneath a bushy set of white brows.
And Jieyuan knew, then, that much as the events of the Gleaming Stone Hunt had mostly concerned Daojue, what with being Qingshi’s main target, it looked as if Meiyao was now the root the troubles were stemming from, and whatever was going on now, it was set to be far, far worse, given the esteemed personage involved.
And as if that wasn’t enough, their troubles from within the Gleaming Stone Sect weren’t quite resolved yet, either, if the assassination attempts on the Gleaming Stone Palace were any indication.
Jieyuan took a steadying breath as their delegation got moving again.
He’d tossed the coin all those months ago, and now all that was left was to survive long enough to see which way it’d land.
In for copper, in for gold.
