Chương 132: Book 2 Chapter 45: Interlude I

Gu Daisheng watched the last of the Nascent Soul cultivators from the twenty first floor of the Imperial Palace trickle out of his chambers and found himself wondering how many of them wanted him dead. Over half, surely. That was his estimate based solely on the pinched expressions and clipped reports they had brought him. A fair number of the remainder probably wished him dead as well.

Those were the more dangerous ones, the cultivators who had mastered the simple but invaluable art of keeping their feelings from reaching their faces. He had known it would be dangerous. He had known it might even lead to his death. What he had somehow failed to account for was what would happen if everything worked out. Here he was, occupying one of the most prestigious positions in the Inner Court, the object of envy for half the known world, and all he could think was that perhaps he had made a mistake.

And after what had happened to Celestial Maiden Zhuo... Gu Daisheng shook the thought away before it could settle. This was no time to indulge in melancholy. He had hitched his star to the Tiger General – or, more accurately, to Princess Xiang Muxue – and now he would see the matter through to the end. A crisp chime sounded from within his storage pouch. Without looking, he hushed it with a flick of spiritual sense. It was time for his meeting on the second floor. Not that he needed the reminder.

He had remembered the appointment perfectly well, which was precisely why he had concluded the previous meeting on time. Rising a few inches above the ground, he drifted toward the door. Before departing, however, he paused long enough to warn the nearest Tiger Army Commander, Han Feng, both of his destination and his expected absence. These precautions had become necessary.

Assassins from – well, nobody knew for certain, though everyone suspected Prince Chengxuan – had taken to targeting members of their faction whenever they travelled alone or too far from immediate support. No one had died yet, but it felt increasingly like a matter of time rather than luck. Even Nascent Soul cultivators were not beyond danger. Only two days earlier, Fellow Namgong had nearly lost his life on the seventeenth floor.

After assisting General Tang Huwei in the assault against the Lion Army, he had been appointed caretaker of the scripture library there. Somehow, that position had proved almost as hazardous as the battlefield. Gu Daisheng knew Namgong well. They had entered the palace at roughly the same time and followed remarkably similar paths.

Both had begun as caretakers of resource points, before becoming overseers of palace floors, though Gu Daisheng had joined the second while Namgong had eventually risen to command the fourth. Hearing of his near death had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Such thoughts occupied his mind as he sped through the palace. He shot down corridors with startling velocity, gliding close enough to the ceiling that any higher would have invited complaints from maintenance puppets.

The vast halls blurred around him as he headed straight for the outer balconies. There were two ways to travel between the palace floors. The first was through the stairways, which were by far the fastest and most convenient method, assuming one possessed the necessary permissions and tokens. The second involved leaving the floor entirely, flying through the palace's exterior, and re-entering wherever one pleased.

The Imperial Palace's interior and exterior dimensions had long since abandoned any obligation to resemble one another, which made the method surprisingly practical. Gu Daisheng chose the latter. Partly because he suspected his movements were being watched. Taking a different route would not truly lose any determined observer, of course. Anyone assigned to monitor him would adapt quickly enough.

Nevertheless, forcing them to scramble, recalculate, and perhaps spend a few anxious moments wondering whether they had lost track of him entirely brought a small warmth to his otherwise troubled heart. Petty satisfaction was still satisfaction. He passed a number of cultivators along the way, along with servants, moving paintings, wandering scrolls, and, still something of a novelty to him, nobles.

The second floor had possessed a noticeable shortage of them, but in the Inner Court they were nearly as common as qi lights. Gu Daisheng was still trying to determine exactly what purpose they served. As far as he could tell, most of them did not actually hold positions or perform any useful duties. They existed, apparently, for the sole purpose of representing their family, clan, or alliance at court while exchanging gossip and laughing behind their sleeves.

He suspected many were either the favored or the troublesome children of noble houses from beyond the capital, sent to the Imperial Palace both to benefit from its immense resources and to make something of themselves. If that was indeed their purpose, the latter objective seemed to be failing rather badly. Regardless, he did not slow for any of them.

He continued straight toward his destination, ignoring both the cluster of young ladies hiding their smiles behind folding fans and the group of noble youths who called out invitations to join them for a game of Madiao. Given how matters were still unfolding within the palace's tangled structures of power, it might even be advantageous if he acquired a reputation for aloofness. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived. The journey had required several minor evasive maneuvers.

At one point he had nearly collided with a snow-white crane whose resplendent plumage suggested either exceptional breeding or exceptional vanity. The bird carried a sealed scroll in its beak and looked deeply offended that anyone else should dare occupy the same airspace. A little later, he encountered a colony of spirit rabbits with antlers and feathered wings that had established themselves inside a cavity near the ceiling.

Gu Daisheng made a mental note of them; they would have to be cleaned out before they gnawed the whole palace hollow. The balcony he stepped onto was broad enough to host a banquet and possessed a view that still managed to steal his breath. He stood so high above the world that the clouds seemed almost within reach. It was easy to imagine stretching out a hand, gathering a fistful of white mist, and drinking the dew from it like nectar.

In reality, Gu Daisheng had flown through clouds often enough to know they were cold, damp, and far less romantic than poets insisted. Still, the poetic version was undeniably better. Below him, the city sprawled outward in every direction. Grand mansions, broad streets, gardens, canals, rooftops, pavilions, tea houses, and people – above all, people. They formed an endless tide flowing through the arteries of the capital, moving with purpose both great and small.

Apart from the Four Great Avenues, the roads leading toward the Imperial Palace were packed shoulder to shoulder, mirroring the traffic in the skies above, where cultivators flew upon spirit tools, flying ships, and flame-wheeled carriages. Far in the distance, where even his formidable eyesight began to falter, he could make out the immense circumference of the city walls. Even that description felt inadequate. Calling them a circumference implied a curve, and from this height there seemed to be none.

No matter which direction he looked, the walls appeared as an endless pale line of stone stretching beyond sight. Gu Daisheng took a moment to breathe it all in, tasting the air which carried the scents of a city that had no equal on the continent. Then he descended. The levels passed swiftly beneath him. Soon he was entering the second floor, amusingly enough through the very same passage he had used to welcome those two... His thoughts became somewhat complicated at the memory. After a moment, he pushed it aside.

The second floor of the Imperial Palace was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He had spent centuries here, and its people knew him nearly as well as he knew them. He flew through the Winding Walls and then the Third Intersection. He ignored the heckling statues at the Fifteenth Right Pass and received several startled cries of "Lord Gu?" from passing servants as he swept above the Terracotta Gallery. He acknowledged them with a wave, though he did not slow. Today, that was all the time he could spare.

A corridor later, his former residence came into view. It remained encased within layers of powerful formations he had installed eighty years ago after winning the Three-Layered Many Worlds Enclosed Formation from Gwei in a bet. The current owner had sensed his arrival. A passage had already opened in the dome of shimmering light surrounding the estate. Gu Daisheng flew through. The wave of qi that washed over him felt strangely like coming home.

His residence on the twenty-first floor possessed denser spiritual energy, and both the Pill Hall and the Scripture Library there surpassed anything available on the second floor. Yet comfort and luxury were not always the same thing. There was a familiarity here that could not be replicated. Still, he did not linger. That would have been rude. Nei Pan was waiting in the main meditation hall atop the Blackwood Pavilion and he was not alone. Gu Daisheng landed softly, already cupping his hands in a formal greeting.

"Fellow Daoist Nei Pan. Fellow Daoist Chi Yanxiao. I am heartened to see you both in such excellent health." It was a gentle jab. When Tang Huwei had called for volunteers to join the Tiger Army's assault upon the Lion Army, Chi Yanxiao had declined on the grounds of illness. He could simply have refused, as many others had done. Better yet, he could have ignored the summons entirely.

Instead, he had spent years boasting about what he would do if given the opportunity to deal with men like Yue Shouming, and yet, when that opportunity had finally arrived, he had discovered a sudden and inconvenient frailty. Chi Yanxiao lowered his head slightly. His return greeting was polite enough, but noticeably lacking in enthusiasm. Nei Pan, on the other hand, remained entirely himself. Shame was a force of nature that seemed unable to gain purchase on the man.

"You too, Old Gu," he boomed.

"Come, sit down. I've had some good tea and spirit fruits brought out." As he spoke, the childlike cultivator waved a hand expansively. A low table and three chairs shimmered into existence. The three men took their seats. While accepting a cup of tea, Gu Daisheng examined Nei Pan as discreetly as possible, wondering how stewardship of the second floor was treating him. The answer, it seemed, was rather well. There had been doubts when the appointment was first proposed.

Most of the concerns had centered on Nei Pan himself as few would have described him as an ideal administrator. Nevertheless, the appointment had ultimately succeeded, largely because Gu Daisheng had supported it. The recommendation of a departing overseer carried considerable weight. Nei Pan might not have been the most qualified candidate, but among all those available, he had been the closest to Gu Daisheng. Loyalty, especially in recent times, was a commodity worth cultivating.

And the results could be seen plainly enough. Even now, with Gu Daisheng's faction suffering setback after setback within the court, Nei Pan had openly invited him to the second floor rather than keeping him at arm's length. That alone spoke volumes. Gu Daisheng picked up a slice of fruit. It was a silvery, translucent thing with flaming-red skin and motes of surging qi dancing within its flesh. He took a bite. The taste of sweetened milk and warm spice flooded his mouth.

The fruit dissolved almost immediately, releasing rich spiritual energy that flowed smoothly into his meridians.

"Brother Shihou has found an excellent fruit," he said in approval. Nei Pan waved away the compliment.

"With all the recent changes, that was only natural. Don't mind it." Then he shifted in his seat, squirming like a man forced to sit through a lecture when there was an argument waiting outside.

"Enough wasting time," he burst out.

"Meng Zizai is becoming a problem." Beside him, Chi Yanxiao grimaced but offered no objection. Gu Daisheng lowered the second slice of fruit he had been reaching for.

"He's always been a problem," he said carefully.

"I assume you mean in some new and unfortunate fashion?" Nei Pan nodded vigorously.

"He isn't even trying to be subtle anymore. Last night he invaded the dreams of Madam Tai and Brother Shen. Three days before that, he tried to stir up the Terracotta Army by sending them dreams of the Yuan breaking through the Great Wall. Shan Qixi had to unleash his natal artifact just to calm them down." His expression darkened.

"He's obviously acting under the Crown Prince's orders, but it isn't as though we can prove it." Gu Daisheng frowned. Meng Zizai had been the most troublesome Nascent Soul cultivator under his authority during his years as overseer of the second floor. The only reason he had managed to keep the man in line was that his cultivation had been superior. Nei Pan lacked that advantage. The truly frustrating part, however, was that the Lord of Dreams was as slippery as an eel coated in oil.

There was no reliable way to corner him. Whenever matters became dangerous, Meng Zizai could simply flee into the dreams of some sleeping cultivator using his natal artifact, the Nebulous Dreamcatcher. The artifact made him exceptionally difficult to capture, excellent at gathering information he had no business possessing, and surprisingly dangerous in battle, where he could drag fragments of nightmares into reality itself. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent.

Report any appearances on Amazon. An irritating combination. Still...

"What exactly are you expecting me to do about it?" Gu Daisheng asked bluntly. Nei Pan opened his mouth, but Gu Daisheng continued before he could speak.

"Open fighting is forbidden within the palace, especially now after the recent upheavals. Meng Zizai is many things, but he is not foolish enough to violate the laws so openly. Nor is he likely to accept a duel from anyone capable of defeating him." He folded his hands together.

"And if your solution is for me to call upon whatever influence I possess with the Tiger General, then allow me to remind you that the General and all of his associates are currently occupied with patching holes in their own sinking ship. I very much doubt they have the time to concern themselves with a troublesome cultivator on the second floor." Nei Pan remained entirely unmoved. Instead, he leaned forward until his stool balanced precariously on two legs.

"You say that," he replied, lowering his voice slightly, "but I've heard there is still open fighting on the higher levels." Gu Daisheng felt a faint headache coming on. That was not, unfortunately, a rumor. There were still remnants of the Lion Army making nuisances of themselves whenever opportunities presented themselves, striking where they could and retreating the moment Tiger Army cultivators gathered in sufficient numbers to hunt them down.

Then there were the assassins, who continued their attacks with no discernible pattern, leaving the entire faction perpetually on edge. Given all that, it was hardly surprising that unflattering stories had begun trickling down into the Outer Court. The truly frustrating part was that they could neither complain about it nor officially report it. After all, it had been the Tiger Army that shattered the old order by bringing open warfare into the palace corridors in the first place.

Certainly, the Emperor had pardoned them afterward, but once the equilibrium had been broken, others had become considerably bolder. None more so than the Crown Prince's followers, who seemed determined to exploit every crack they could find.

The Emperor had not intervened, not because he was unaware – Gu Daisheng would sooner believe the sun had forgotten to rise – but because, from his perspective, two internal factions were simply weakening one another without quite crossing the line that demanded imperial action. Why stop them? Let the Crown Prince and the Fallen Princess wear each other down. When both sides had exhausted themselves sufficiently, then he could step in. There was another complication as well.

The Tiger Army had recently inherited responsibility for maintaining order within the Inner Court after wresting that authority from the Lion Army. Appearing before the court to admit they could not control the disturbances, or worse, that they were failing to keep the peace, would only erode confidence in their leadership and hand Prince Chengxuan yet another weapon to use against them. And so the current state of affairs persisted, with no clear end in sight.

"True enough," Gu Daisheng admitted at last, though grudgingly, "but what you're hearing about are merely the fading embers of the conflict between the armies, not whatever it is you're imagining. If we move openly against Meng Zizai, the Emperor will have our heads mounted on pikes." And while everyone around the table could survive a decapitation on account of being Nascent Soul stage cultivators, it went without saying that his statement was metaphorical rather than literal.

"And if someone else did? Someone who has a connection to you and will listen when you bring it up to him, someone who-" Nei Pan's voice lowered, even though there was no discernible way for anyone to be eavesdropping on them though layers of formations "-can kill without warning, and someone high enough that what might bury a lesser man will only inconvenience him?" Gu Daisheng wanted to close his eyes. Of course that was what this was about: Mo Jian. His thoughts there were complicated.

Complicated enough, truthfully, that most days he could not parse his own feelings on the matter clearly. He had first met Mo Jian months ago, had welcomed him to the palace and shown him and his companion around. He had found him pleasant, engaging, occasionally awkward in a way that felt more natural than contrived, almost endearing, in its own hesitant fashion.

And yet he had also concluded, in the same breath, that Mo Jian was an excellent actor: there had not been a single hint of consternation on his face when Gu Daisheng had hinted, delicately, at the gui and his plans for it. That alone had been telling enough. Reports on Mo Jian had been distributed to every Nascent Soul cultivator on the second floor by a Palace Elder only days before his arrival.

Such venerable and rarely mobilized figures acted only on the explicit command of the Emperor, and Gu Daisheng had read his copy with meticulous attention. Current owner of the divine treasure – the gui – that had descended upon the world some three years ago. He had reportedly killed a Nascent Soul cultivator in combat for it, though the reports there were so maddeningly vague that no clear picture could be drawn: not how it had happened, not why, not even with certainty who had died.

It could have been though luck, or cunning, or outside help, or even divine intervention for all they knew. He had then come to the capital, successfully passed the imperial examination with a commendation in the second round, which while unusual, was not enough on its own to snag Daisheng's attention. No, to him, the most important part had been that Mo Jian had somehow revived a dead mine in the capital, and the new jade extracted from it came out bearing strange, compass rose like formations.

It had drawn attention from the court at first, and then envy and avarice when it became clear who was behind it and likely using what treasure. And yet the palace elder who had delivered the report had been unusually explicit on one point: proceed lightly, and no further. Whatever the Emperor's designs for Mo Jian were, they did not include the court descending upon him like a pack of starving hyenas. Back then, Gu Daisheng had believed he understood Mo Jian's intentions well enough.

He had assumed Mo Jian had come to the capital to secure a position within the palace, climb as high as possible, and only then present the gui to extract the greatest possible reward, perhaps a prestigious posting to one of the top nine floors, or even elevation to nobility and a granted territory somewhere within the empire. From that assumption, he had concluded Mo Jian would proceed in a straightforward manner: work with visible excellence, accumulate merit, and steadily advance.

With that in mind, he had even prepared his own arrangements accordingly. If Mo Jian came to view him favorably, then when the time came… Now, however, Gu Daisheng could only admit how naïve he had been. Mo Jian had done none of what he expected. He had not waited for opportunity or carefully cultivated a reputation for competence.

Instead, in what could only be described as a complete disregard for conventional thinking, he had forced an early meeting with the Fallen Princess and, from that point onward, done one reckless thing after another. He had brought back the Tiger General. He had launched an open assault on the Lion Army. He had helped elevate Muxue into a credible threat to the Crown Prince. And above all, he had begun assassinating people within the palace with no warning and no apparent restraint. Others might not know.

They might only suspect. But Gu Daisheng knew it down to his bones: Mo Jian had somehow found a way to wield the gui despite it being impossible, and he was using it to kill through layers of protection and guarded walls as though they meant nothing. How? He had no answer. Even so, he had quietly moved his bed away from the southern side of his residence, feeling faintly absurd even as he did so. Mo Jian had no known reason to target him specifically, yet reason offered little comfort.

The heart did not always obey logic. He had underestimated Mo Jian once, and learned a bitter lesson for it. He would not do so again. Stripped of his earlier assumptions, Gu Daisheng had forced himself to reconsider everything. He had sat in long, uneasy thought, trying to discern what Mo Jian truly sought. The conclusion he reached chilled him: Mo Jian was not here for some measly reward at all. He had not come to serve the palace. He had come to rule it. An alliance with a princess.

The Crown Prince directly in his sights. The ability to assassinate whomever he pleased, limited only by being unable to directly target the imperial family itself due to the distant risk of drawing the Immortal Emperor's attention. And, most telling of all, the fact that the princess herself had openly taken him as a consort. All of it pointed in a single direction. Mo Jian intended to elevate Princess Muxue to the throne as Empress one day and stand beside her as her official consort.

An emperor in all but name, ruling from the shadows. He had likely set that as the price for his assistance, and if he succeeded in presenting the gui to the Immortal Emperor, that future would cease to be speculation. Gu Daisheng had once believed that his own ambitions to join the Inner Court were excessive. Now he was beginning to understand what true ambition looked like. And it did not end there. Mo Jian already had a woman at his side, though "concubine" was not the term used.

No, she was called his "student." Gu Daisheng had noticed her from the beginning: her beauty, her presence, the quiet familiarity between them. He had even asked whether they were dao companions, only to receive a denial. And yet… they shared the same residence. Yes, Mo Jian was ambitious beyond measure, and proud in a way that bordered on recklessness. And yet he was, in a technical sense, on Gu Daisheng's side, or perhaps it was the other way around, given their respective standings in the princess's regard.

Either way, that alone made it… at least conceivable to work together. The long pause as Gu Daisheng sifted through his thoughts was taken as hesitation. And hesitation, in situations like this, was often mistaken for weakness. Weakness, in turn, was exploited.

"Well?" Nei Pan demanded, leaning forward on his stool so far it seemed inevitable he would topple over, if not for a quick stabilizing thread of qi.

"Do you think you can convince him to assist us? After all, the situation is partially of his making."

"I wouldn't say that to his face," Gu Daisheng replied, dragging a hand down over his eyes. Nei Pan's suggestion felt absurd at first. And yet, the longer Gu Daisheng considered it, the less absurd it became. Meng Zizai was not a fool, but he was vindictive. Mo Jian had crossed him at the gathering of Nascent Soul cultivators on the second floor weeks earlier, and though Gu Daisheng had warned Mo Jian at the time, he had not taken Meng Zizai seriously.

In fact, the Lord of Dreams would have moved against Mo Jian already if not for the recent upheavals and reshuffling of positions within the palace. If Mo Jian descended now… if the right opportunity presented itself… would Meng Zizai strike? Even with his arrogance, caution would hold him back. And yet Gu Daisheng still felt there was a real chance he would try. As for persuading Mo Jian… Providence, fate, or sheer misfortune had placed Gu Daisheng in a uniquely inconvenient position.

He was, after all, the newly appointed overseer of the twenty first floor, the very floor on which Mo Jian resided. And Mo Jian had once asked him about bringing in an entourage. If – no, when – the time came, if Gu Daisheng arranged matters carefully enough that Mo Jian came to owe him a favor, or at least owed him attention, then it might be possible to draw him in. But it would have to be done delicately.

The last thing he needed was to offend a man who carried a treasure capable of killing with apparent impunity. Still, the pieces were there. Not complete, but already half-assembled, if one was willing to look at them from the right angle. At last, he sighed, pushing the bowl of spirit fruit away.

"It will take time," he said.

"If you can keep the Lord of Dreams occupied for a while… long enough to endure him… then yes, I think I can secure Mo Jian's help." He paused.

"However," he added, eyes sharpening slightly, "are you certain this is the path you want to take? The Crown Prince will interpret this as choosing a side. Right now, it is only I and Zhuo who are in his line of fire, along with the obvious parties like Miao Bu and Mo Jian. But if you step in openly, you may draw far more trouble than the crisis you're trying to avoid." Nei Pan leaned back at last, his stool settling properly onto all four legs again.

A challenging grin spread across his face, sharp with a kind of reckless certainty. Even Chi Yanxiao, who had not spoken a single word throughout and had kept his head lowered the entire time, finally looked up. A faint, wry smile tugged at his lips.

"We're already tarred by association," Nei Pan said lightly.

"You know that. There's no benefit to keeping our heads down now." Gu Daisheng did not answer immediately. Sunlight streamed through the upper-floor windows, warm against his back. A faint breeze drifted through the room, tugging gently at the cuffs of his sleeves. On the table, the spirit fruit gleamed, its translucent skin catching the light before dimming again as the angle shifted, as though it could not decide whether to remain bright or subdued.

"Fair enough," Gu Daisheng said at last, though he did not entirely agree. The truth was that, for all his recent misgivings, and for all the Crown Prince's steady advance through court affairs, he could not deny one thing: he still preferred where he stood now to where he had stood before. To cultivate was to struggle against the heavens. And what, exactly, was this if not struggle?

He had taken the risk because he had believed it worthwhile, and whatever regrets had come since, that belief had not entirely vanished.

"Let me speak with Mo Jian first," he continued.

"And then… we turn this floor upside down ourselves." A faint edge of dry humor entered his voice.

"After all, it would be embarrassing if old hands like us failed to accomplish what a newcomer has already managed." It was a weak toast; a half-hearted one, even. But all three of them lifted their cups anyway and tea met tea with a soft, clear chime. It was a custom introduced by the Daqin contingent, something meant for celebration, camaraderie, or simple acknowledgment between allies. In this moment, it served all three purposes at once.

For a brief instant, the room felt lighter as the cups lowered and the weight of what they had just agreed to quietly settled back into place.