Chương 64: Red Lotus Hall

Rowan Rowan walked through the streets of Righteous Mountain City without much purpose. He was headed back towards the sect, but he didn't want to see the face of Jenne's mother. Rowan still wasn't sure what to tell the woman. It was rather quiet for a nice summer evening, and an unexpected number of shops were shuttered. The loudest sound were wild dogs rummaging through the trash in alleyways and the everpresent buzz of cicadas. He paused, not far from the Eastern Gate.

And then Lee came around the corner, huffing and puffing.

"Hey, Rowan! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Those words worried Rowan. Did something happen?

"I was just showing my cousin around the city," said Rowan, a line forming between his brows.

"What's wrong?" He'd left Ash and Lavinia behind at Helsing Alchemy, but he wasn't too worried about them. They were both cultivators.

"Not exactly. There's a city-wide curfew now, remember? Mikael noticed you hadn't returned yet so he sent us to see if you'd gotten into trouble." A curfew? Since when was there a curfew? Rowan looked around him, noticing that the streets did seem strangely empty. Most of the taverns were already closed, when usually they would be running late into the night. Even the beggars and vagrants that had nowhere to live had disappeared. A small wave of relief went through him.

For the past few hours, he had been debating what to say to Jenne's mother, if he should honor the mother's wishes or the daughter's, avoiding the Eastern Gate where the pancake vendor sold her goods. Now, he supposed he had a little more time.

"Does the curfew include cultivators too?"" Especially cultivators," said Lee.

"We're in deep trouble if we're not back at the sect by sundown. I bet part of this is your fault, for knocking off Barrett Fross on a public street. Red Lotus Hall is on the way here too, they'll be arriving any minute." The city was already cast in a purple twilight, the horizon glowing a burnt orange. A few stars glittered faintly. In the sky, Rowan spied a little black dot in the air. Rowan squinted. It was an elder from Righteous Mountain. Elder Cloris, Mikael's master.

The hunched figure flew over them, his gnarled hand clutching the handle of a dusty broomstick. Rowan gave a deep bow to the teacher of his teacher. Lee quickly bowed as well. Cloris was approached in the air by someone who looked just as old, in robes of red and white. A squat terracotta cauldron was strapped to his back. A bulbous clay face bulged from the cauldron's rounded belly, cycling through a series of fixed expressions. Triumph, fear, mourning, anger, despair.

The one it seemed to settle on most frequently was shame - downcast, crescented eyes dripping clay tears. It could only be the Asura Observing Cauldron. Red Lotus Hall! But the elder wasn't just anyone from Red Lotus Hall. Every cultivator on the Kyrr Peninsula knew his name. He was Patriarch Longview, the Small Spark of Red Clay River. The peninsula's only Master Alchemist, and a Late Stage Foundation Establishment ancestor.

To Rowan's surprise, when Elder Cloris bowed to the man, Longview bowed back just as deeply. And then, Longview looped his arm around Cloris's shoulder in a brotherly fashion and the pair of them sped towards the upper reaches of Righteous Mountain. Somehow, the most notorious hermit of Righteous Mountain was friends with a figure like this.

"Come on, we have to go get Damion and Silvester," said Lee, leading Rowan through the streets.

"They were looking for you near the refinery. They were convinced you left to buy more dangerous, pointy things to kill people with." Honestly… they weren't even wrong. Rowan wouldn't mind picking up a few more weapons to complement his sword. As they walked past the Main Road, Rowan noted the stream of Red Lotus Hall disciples filing past the Eastern Gate. There were two types of disciples - those who seemed to be fun-loving and loud, and the groups that followed them with clasped hands and polite nods.

Some of the disciples gave short bows to Rowan and Lee. Rowan nodded back at them and smiled. Then he saw what could only be a contingent of core disciples. They wore mostly white robes with muted red stripes that ran from shoulder to belt. They followed a pair of elders with starch white robes and billowing red sleeves in a thoughtful line. It seemed that Red Lotus Hall would also be staying in Righteous Mountain, just like Blackscale Sect. That made sense.

Elder Cloris wasn't friendly with anyone - not even his fellow elders - but the patriarch of Red Lotus Hall had greeted him like a brother. There were only a few side streets between the Main Road and Stone Dragon Refinery, but by the time they approached, the sun had fully set. The streets which were normally lit with the torches of street vendors and the bright windows of various inns and restaurants were now dark save for the orange glow cast by lit furnaces from the refinery itself.

Rowan's boots clacked over the clean new cobblestones in front of the refinery. All evidence of the deadly duel between Rowan and Barrett Fross had already been paved over. And, as expected, Decatour and Silvester were steadily ignoring one another on either side of the bronze dragon statue. Rowan hadn't even managed to call out to them when his fellow disciple brothers were approached by a group of eight Red Lotus Hall disciples. Decatour and Silvester firmly stood their ground.

The group was led by a man who looked just older than Ash - seventeen or eighteen. He was in mid-stage Qi Condensation. He wore a different set of Red Lotus Hall sect robes than any Rowan had seen - Rowan was unsure if they even were sect robes. They seemed far too flowy and ornate, the red fabric so thin they looked pink along the sleeves, fluttering in the gentle breeze, but the vest fitted to his chest was burgundy. Gold ornaments in the shape of lotuses hung from his belt, the stamen dotted with pearls.

His hair was pinned in a golden hair crown, pleated in a style so complex that Rowan doubted even six hands could've managed it. A bow hung from his back, but his hands were free of callouses. The fingernails were even manicured, like soft pink shells. In just a second, Rowan had given him the diagnosis of young master. However, the man was in mid-stage Qi Condensation. Rowan would be a fool to believe that bowstring had never been drawn. Rowan was sure he was here to try his luck with Luzon.

Rowan and Lee didn't hesitate. They briskly took their place beside their sect brothers. The leader of the group bowed at the waist, giving them a charming half-smile.

"This daoist is Pherys Rosier, the inheriting son of Red Lotus Hall. My grandfather, Patriarch Longview, has only good things to say about Righteous Mountain City, especially of his two good friends Elder Cloris and Forgemaster Luzon." Rowan dryly marveled at the man's glib tongue. In only a few sentences, he'd managed to establish his station, and connect himself to two of the most prominent figures in Rowan's city. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

But that was to be expected. Pherys Rosier wasn't merely a young lord - he was basically a prince. It was common knowledge that House Rosier had founded Red Lotus Hall long ago, and the sect was an extension of the family rather than the other way around. They owned the biggest island on the southern coast of the peninsula, the known location of a famous blessed land that produced most of the Earthly Harmony Alliance's spirit herbs.

Specifically, they grew the rare spirit herbs crucial for the Foundation Establishment Pill - the pill coveted by all Qi Refiners who wished to cross the Great Divide and establish their Immortal Foundation. If Rosier was here for a sword, Rowan wondered if Luzon could afford to reject the request.

"Our teacher happens to be Elder Cloris's inheriting disciple," said Decatour.

"My own house humbly makes their living through selling tea. My name is-" The half-smile didn't change in the slightest.

"I would recognize a Decatour anywhere."

"I am," confirmed Damion, tipping his head slightly. Pherys turned his head to Rowan.

"And you must be Rowan Helsing, the first son of the Honored Bloodwood Helsings? I've heard much of your deeds on our journey here. We who remember the old ways thanks your house." Flattering words, meant not to compliment Rowan but to insult Damion. Was there enmity between the Rosiers and the Decatours? Pherys cast a glance at Lee and Silvester.

"These would be, of course, your retainers. Well met."

"Thank you, Fellow Daoist," said Rowan, making sure he didn't show a trace of discomfort. He dredged up every ounce of etiquette he knew.

"My elders would be displeased, however, if I did not correct you. These are my sect brothers. We are but outer disciples apprenticed to Senior Brother Mikael Maulkin." Instead of apologizing, however, Pherys winked at Rowan.

"Of course, of course. Decorum must be followed. It is also the case that these are my sect brothers," he said, sweeping his arm behind him at his red-robed entourage with the same practiced smile. Lee caught on quickly. He gave a deep, almost obsequious, bow and did not speak. Like Damion and Rowan, Lee almost certainly knew that it would be best if they let Pherys Rosier believe whatever he wanted to, and find an opening to escape back to the sect as fast as possible.

"I'm Silvester," said Silvester.

"Outer Disciple of Righteous Mountain." Rowan shot a glare at Silvester, trying to get him to be quiet. Pherys Rosier didn't give any indication he'd heard Silvester at all. Instead, he continued to speak to Rowan.

"It seems, sadly, that the breakdown in discipline has happened across the entirety of the peninsula. Perhaps I should not be so angry about the state of my own sect." Rowan smiled.

"We can only try our best to emulate our august ancestors."

"Your robes are very nice, sir," said Silvester politely - more polite than Rowan had ever heard him.

"If you have an interest in fashion, Righteous Mountain is famous for our - " With sectmates like Silvester, who needed enemies?" Sir?" scoffed Pherys, taking an aggressive half-step forward.

"Who do you think I am? A butler? And do I really give off the impression I would be interested in frivolous matters like shopping, particularly on the cusp of a tournament? Where I am to risk my life for the honor of my house and sect?" Rowan shoved Silvester behind him, which was easy considering their difference in cultivation. Even Lee and Decatour took a few steps back. This was between mid-stage cultivators now. Rowan forced his mouth to remain in a kind smile.

"You must forgive our young qi inscriptions expert. I believe the question is whether some fields attract those who are eccentric, or if those paths force eccentricity upon their practitioners. I confess to being a poor scholar. I don't remember the alchemist who said that." Hopefully this time, Silvester would know better than to open his mouth again. Pherys crossed his arms, raising an irritated brow.

"The saying is commonly attributed to the Myriad-Eyed Moth, but many things with unclear origins often are." He paused, his placid half-smile returning.

"An inscriptions expert, hm? I also apologize. I come from a house of many eccentrics, I can't believe I didn't recognize one right in front of me. Say - Silvester, that is your name, isn't it? I had a few questions about qi inscription myself. Now that I have you right here, do you mind if we discuss the Dao?" Rowan's smile chilled, turning small and sharp. He was sure, now, that Pherys was purposefully looking for trouble.

"Young lord, remember where you are." Silvester's voice chimed in behind him.

"Ask me a question!" The street went silent for a moment. Rowan could hear nothing but the sound of everyone's quick breathing - his sect mates, yes, but also the group of Red Lotus Hall disciples behind Pherys Rosier. Now nothing Rowan said could salvage the situation. He shot a look back at Lee and Decatour, who shook their heads, refusing to leave. Truthfully, if they ran, Red Lotus Hall might find offense with that as well, claiming the host sect was acting like they were vicious animals on the loose.

Pherys rubbed his chin, looking up at the sky.

"Recently, I've been interested in the Vermillion Bird Chases Summer inscription. What do you think the best medium to hold the inscription is - sand, sea, or steel?" Rowan's eyes widened. He interjected quickly.

"Don't make fun of my sect brother, Fellow Daoist. Vermillion Bird Chases Summer is a legendary inscription only heard about in myth. I doubt even our elders would speak on it." Unfortunately, Silvester was determined to do so.

"The Vermillion Bird is a pheasant who has earned the blessings of the Phoenix. However, the Vermillion Bird represents the south, which is the direction of Heaven. The best medium would not be sand, sea, or steel, but the sky!" Rowan paused, unwittingly impressed by Silvester's reasoning. To think of something that profound on the spot… Pherys had also stilled, his brow furrowing. Then, his eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Earned the blessings?" Pherys whispered.

"Are you implying the Vermillion Bird supplants the Phoenix?" Rosier's feigned politeness had been ripped away, replaced with an earnest rage. His Qi Sea fluctuated frenetically, and the slight summer breeze seemed to vanish, leaving only the stifling city heat. Right. The symbol of Red Lotus Hall was, indeed, a Phoenix. In response, Rowan began to breathe in the rhythm of the Waking Spring with singleminded focus. His own qi flared. The wind that had been snuffed out returned, blowing a touch more fiercely.

There was going to be a fight.

"Brother, are these people bothering you?" A woman appeared behind Rowan's group. She looked remarkably like Pherys - the same straight nose, and the sculpted mouth. Except, her eyes were pure gold - a cold, predatory, animal gold. The world felt like it had stopped for a moment when those eyes pinned on Rowan. He hadn't even noticed the haze of red heat surrounding her, distorting the air. He hadn't even noticed that she was wearing the same ostentatious robes as Pherys.

Those gold eyes reminded him of Lady Hema's unsettling attendant, Gaetan. Eyes that did not belong on a human.

"No," Pherys gasped out.

"It's fine, Ranna. We were merely making introductions." Ranna. He remembered that name from Uxia's list. The girl that had been blessed by a phoenix. The girl that was stuck in early-stage Qi Condensation, despite being strong enough to forge ahead. Well, she wasn't in early-stage Qi Condensation anymore. Mid-stage. The same layer as Rowan. Except, even with his A-Grade Qi Sea, he knew, without a doubt, that he had no chance against her. It was the same part of him that was screaming that she wasn't human.

Still, Rowan did not back down. He planted his feet, shielding his sect brothers. If it became clear that he couldn't hold her off, they were in front of the Stone Dragon Refinery. They could always run into the refinery and hide behind Luzon. Surely the Forgemaster wouldn't ban Rowan for troubling him. Rowan was the one who owed him a forging. Ranna tilted her head slightly. She took a step back, and slowly turned her head to stare up the street.

Rowan followed her gaze to two officials in seven layers of white robes. Ranna didn't react, but Pherys and his silent entourage stiffened. Pherys brushed his robes down, straightening them so they were back in perfect order. Nothing gave ornery cultivators pause like the gleaming brooch of the Dao Court.

"News may not have travelled, but there is a curfew in effect," announced none other than Florimond Sutter.

"Please return to your domiciles." Pherys cupped his fist and bowed.

"Of course. This one thanks you for your warm welcome." The two officials waited, watching as Red Lotus Hall left, including Ranna.

"I expected our guests to break the rules, but our own disciples?" Florimond moaned.

"I'll have to file a report for this personally!" Silvester looked petrified.

"Sorry, Senior Investigator. We'll see Master Luzon another day," said Rowan, dragging the other three away. Rowan shot a look behind him before they rounded the corner, giving Florimond a thankful nod. Florimond winked.