Chương 44: Chapter 14

Wu Nenqin tried his best to remain composed as the doors opened. The ancient gate swung soundlessly. The word for Night gleamed in liquid, silver light over spiritwood turned matte black by millennia of Night Qi exposure. Unearthly darkness breathed from behind the threshold, cold and terrifying to anyone, cool and welcoming to one of the Blood of Night. It had been a long time since Wu Nenqin entered the chambers of the Deputy Master. It was… a selfish choice.

The chambers had belonged to the Founder, who had left them in custody to her son, and he in turn had left them to the lineage. Every Wu who took the title dwelled in them. It was an emblem of their authority as much as the Sect Seal and the other accoutrements denoting the Master's authority. But… it never felt right for him to occupy them. He always preferred his old rooms, even as he remained painfully aware of the selfishness underlying his decision.

"Come, Haoran." The old man grunted and nodded. He may not belong to the family line, but if the cold, frigid enough to shatter mortal veins, bothered him, he didn't show it. It was a great honor that he was allowed to bring a comrade of his choosing to the meeting. Wu Nenqin took it as the comfort that it was. Haoran wore his usual. A smoky black shirt, lined with crimson and adorned with coiling serpents. A thick rope circled his waist, closing into a knot that held up a pair of ragged breaches.

His feet were bare and turned to the color of dust from their constant meeting with the ground. The uniform of the Wu family's retainers was a storied and glorious one; except that the old man wasn't fond of the close-fit jacket with ample sleeves it should have gone with, or shoes, or sleeves. Haoran had ripped them off at some time, leaving his trunk-sized arms bare. Wu Nenqin glanced at him sideways, fretting inside. He trusted his old friend with all his soul and offered him all his esteem.

He could even find his humble lifestyle admirable. But at the moment, he really wished he could dress a bit more appropriately.

"Come in," said a voice. Wu Nenqin shivered. The words were entwined with the Night breathing out of the doors, echoing in his mind just as they hummed through the palace's air. He steeled himself, as much as he could, and walked in. The chambers hadn't changed at all. The three somewhat spartan halls lay in the heart of Sable Lotus Palace, beneath the throneroom and as close as one could be to the Yan Luo's shallow depths.

The rock, darkly polished and untouched by tools, was nowhere to be seen: delicate spiritwood panels covered every inch, turning what would have been a cavern into an intimate setting, a self-contained space that was all but separate from the rest of the palace as a floating teaf leaf from its cup. Amethyst fire burned soundlessly into a modest hearth, casting dancing shadows over paper curtains and primeval treasures from antiquity.

Dragons and cranes were depicted in loving detail as they flew in serene night skies; snowcapped mountains emerged tall and immovable from seas of shadows. Porous rock twisted in strange shapes, seeming to cradle hearts that burned with black flame. A flute rested serenely on a pillow, pockmarked wood seeming to gleam with its own dark radiance. It hadn't changed… and it had changed, Wu Nenqin amended.

The same wonder was present as he looked upon the sturdy, old desk with its legs carved as legs clutching orbs in their mouths. It was empty now, none of the overflowing stacks of scrolls and parchment to be seen, but the antique still radiated with the same solemn authority of something that had witnessed nation-shaking decisions.

The same feeling of how small he was churned in his chest, intimidation mixing with a quiet thrill as the floor slightly pressed beneath his feet, as though made out of something different from wood, something that acknowledged his step and remembered them. Of how grand the Sect was, and of how much he loved being part of it. For a heartstopping moment, he expected to see his father sitting on the chair by the fire, like always. He prepared himself to hear his grumblings, to smooth his bad temper.

The woman shattered the illusion instantly. It was impossible to mistake her for anyone else. Wu Nenqin's eyes shot to the floor. He had caught a first glimpse of the Founder in a peaceful setting, and it was a sharp ache in his chest instead of joy. How far could his shame go?

"You're sorrowful, grandson." The words came without judgment. No unearthly power backed them. It was a simple, even statement, clear and deep, spoken by someone who may have been thirty or ten millennia old. It was impossible to say. Wu Nenqin felt the tip of his ears warm up. He said the truth. Of course he did. What else could you do before an Earth Immortal? What lies could he spit and hope not to see them crushed at once?

"Ah, your father." Another even statement, cool and non-committal. His limbs were stiff, but Wu Nenqin forced them to obey. He lowered himself in a bow, clutching his hands before his chest and bowing his head. Behind him, he felt Haoran kowtow, their different positions emphasized by how tall one could remain in the presence of greatness. Wu Nenqin let out a slow, deep breath, trying to still swirling thoughts. It hadn't changed, yes, and it had changed.

The Night Qi that always filled the chambers was so dense it conglomerated in ephemeral strands, come and gone like wisps of silk on the breeze. Wu Nenqin remembered an oppressive weight, the accumulated signatures of the unbroken line of Masters given form. It was different now, reset to zero. It was as though Night had just fallen when candles were lit and all day's anxieties finally slid away. Wu Nenqin felt coolness kiss his brow and throat, and the silent, calm intimacy of new things just beyond the corner.

His Bloodline rejoiced at it. His Core churned at a steady, satisfied pace. If he allowed himself the luxury, it would have likely felt like coming home. Shame that he was too tense to enjoy it. Another proof of worthlessness, maybe.

"Come. Let us talk." A raised mat had been put before the chair, silvery trim on dark blue canvas. Wu Nenqin kneeled on it, keeping his head bowed with steady discipline. He kept his peace: he wasn't given leave to speak. Silence extended between them. Thankfully, Wu Nenqin was used to this. During his training as heir, he often had to keep silent and motionless while his father and grandfather held councils and entertained guests. Those had been challenges to overcome, to prove himself. This…

anxiety tugged at his heartstrings, and it didn't take long for his forehead to be covered with sweat. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"You're nervous." Wu Nenqin opened his mouth, then stopped himself. Right, he wasn't given leave to speak yet. He just nodded, a quick, firm movement.

"Look at me." Wu Nenqin's body obeyed before his mind could process the demand. The Ancestor sat in the Master's chair as it belonged to her, which very much did. A long robe that seemed woven out of darkness draped around a lithe body. Its edges frayed away into the surrounding gloom, and the long, silky hair did the same, coiling on itself as though following its own set of rules. The face and hands were what struck Wu Nenqin the most.

The Founder's skin was the color of freshly fallen snow, gleaming with an inner glow that only increased her candor. Her clothes and hair were the complete opposite, an abyssal black that seemed to bore into space like ink on paper. Black and white condensed into her shape, both in their purest, densest form. And yet, they did so not in opposition, but in balance. The Ancestor's presence was steady, almost calming; it reminded Wu Nenqin of paper lanterns, glowing softly and untouched in a snowy night.

It had been an endless point of contention among the sages where to draw the line between the Shadow Dragon Vein and the Ancestor's Domain, which held a larger sway on sustaining the Night. Watching her at that moment, one with the darkness and source and end of it both, Wu Nenqin thought that the debate would continue for another ten millennia. Only the eyes broke the balance. Crimson, pure and piercing, faceted and glimmering like the purest rubies and yet outmatching them.

The color just didn't match anything Wu Nenqin held in his memory. It was unique. And deep, with memory and experience. It took all his will to tear himself away from those depths and notice the rest. The Founder wore no jewelry. Her belt was a simple strip of cloth, held in place by a buckle of black jade. The only ornament on her robes was the edges that shifted to a muted red. Still, Wu Nenqin was secretly delighted to see the Serpent Vest, one of the emblems of the Master's authority, resting on her shoulder.

The priceless vest fluttered gently, the countless snakes embroidered over its surface seeming to writhe like gusts of wind. The Founder's facial features were immaculate. They made gauging her age impossible, made her into an ageless statue. Yet, there were deep bags under her eyes, and her fingers were thinner and longer than they should have been. Wu Nenqin knew better than to dare to worry: the Founder emitted more Qi with each of her breaths than his Core could if pushed to the breaking point.

"Well?" Wu Nenqin startled. The Founder was watching him with a faintly amused smile. He had been staring like an Outer Disciple at his first Sect Gathering! Wun Wenqin kowtowed at once, blushing up to the tip of his hair. Thankfully, the Founder didn't take offense.

"I didn't send for you," she said, sounding vaguely puzzled.

"Yet here you are. Your visit has a reason." A rustle of fabric.

"You may speak." Wu Nenqin relaxed minutely. After the battle, the Founder had taken a quick tour of the Sect, before shutting herself into the Master's chambers, letting them to their repairs. Only Wu Lin and a few servants had been allowed in, the former to receive medical care, some of the latter carrying books, others remaining inside for longer. Wu Nenqin didn't think it strange. The Ancestor was likely reacquainting herself with the new age.

If anything, it only pushed him to work and coordinate with more energy. He didn't doubt she was watching over their efforts. It had been a relief that the rest of the Sect shared the sentiment. They worked quickly, efficiently and silently, communal breath held as the images of the sheer might that ended the siege were replayed in more than one head. They were grateful, Wu Nenqin knew it, barely believing their luck. How could they not? For them, the Founder had been but a myth, a faded story from a faraway place.

Nobody thought she would emerge from legend to save them. They expected themselves to be forsaken for their failure. And yet, she had come, straight out of those same stories, to deliver them to salvation. The Founder's return had saved them from death when it seemed certain. But now, doubts and worries were rearing their heads. What would the Founder think in seeing the Sect's state? Would there be punishment? Would she turn that same awesome power on those who had so grossly failed to keep her legacy?

Wu Nenqin never imagined the day would come he'd see Disciples, Elders and Mortals work side by side with so little arguing. Now, if only he could assuage their worries... That the Founder hadn't called for him after the battle had scared him. It made him useless as a leader. Worse, it made him fear that the main branch was soon to be deprived of its honors. That pushed him to act. If things were so desperate, he needed to attempt to fix them.

It was the only reason why he dared to appear before her uninvented, chances for punishments be damned. That not only did she not drive him away from her door, but also allowed him to explain himself was a blessing he didn't intend to let pass him by.

"Honored Founder, Lady Wu Zetian," he began, mustering as much dignity and poise as she could, while remaining properly humble.

"I, Wu Nenqin, come to return to you what was entrusted to our line." The bundle had never gone into his spatial ring. It was too sacred for that. Wu Nenqin laid it before him and pushed him toward the Founder without lifting his eyes. The Founder's expression remained impassive. Something small flickered from inside her sleeve, and then the bundle was in her hand, the paper coming undone to reveal the contents. The Seal Sigil shone darkly in the gloom.

Two jade serpents bit each other's tails, wrapped around a fist-sized replica of the sacred Yin-Yang. Wu Nenqin felt his chest swell. The Sigil was the emblem of the Deputy's power, passed by the Ancestor herself to her first inheritor. It was an honor to be the one to give it back. The Founder held the sigil on her palm, watching it for a long moment. When her gaze turned on him, it held an undecipherable light.

"Is this the main branch's way to say it abdicates from its duty?" Haoran's tensing was barely there, but it may as well have been a hurricane to Wu Nenqin's already tense nerves. He let out a slow, steadying breath.

"It is whatever the Founder deigns it to be," he intoned, bowing low. He tried. He desperately tried to keep his poise. There was nothing he could do, only offer himself to the Ancestor's leniency and hope for the best. If that was the way she decided to take his return…

"The main branch didn't welcome my return well." The Founder's gaze felt like a blade sliding through his back.

"It was Heaven's luck that I happened to reach my breakthrough just in time. Otherwise…" Wu Nenqin's skin erupted with cold sweat.

"I take full responsibility," he said in a hurry.

"Ancestor, the fault for…"

"I didn't finish." Wu Nenqin's jaw clicked shut so quickly it hurt.

"With that said," she resumed after a moment, slow and steady like the sea.

"My secluded cultivation was never meant to last that long. I suppose that the main branch found itself in direr straits than expected because of it." Wu Ninqen blinked. Was… was the honored Ancestor laying some of the blame at her own feet? No, no, he must be missing something.

"A discreet job, all things considered," her voice softened, and Wu Nenqin felt something break inside.

"Rise, grandson, you and yours did well." Wu Zetian was smiling now, eyes gleaming with fondness. One million words clamored for his mouth, but Wu Nenqin pressed them all back. Instead, he did the only sensible thing: he kowtowed, heart overflowing with gratitude. The Founder watched him for a moment. Then it shifted to amusement, and she fluttered her sleeve with a small gesture. A large map appeared on the floor.

His training kicking in – he had been subjected to sudden quizzes far too many times -, Wu Nenqin inspected it. It was a management map, representing Qinghai Province and its surrounding lands in meticulous detail. There was none of the loving brushwork of the artful. This was a map made for management, packed with numbers, statistics and notes. The Founder tilted her head, and Wu Nenqin understood what was asked of him. He cleared his throat, doing his utmost to keep the relief he felt from reaching his face.

"A discreet job is not a good job, grandson," the Founder chided him with something that may have been kindness.

"The family will have to prove itself." It was like a Qi Blast to the stomach, but then Wu Nenqin actually felt a new sense of relief.

"I wouldn't have it any differently, Ancestor," he said, meaning every word. With the disgraceful performance given by the main branch, having to prove their worth again was only right. If anything, he was grateful to have the chance at all. Amusement flickered in Wu Zetian's expression. She fluttered her sleeve again, and Wu Nenqin, as the dutiful grandson he was, started to tell her about the situation of their land.