CHAPTER

39

PALACE HEAD

JIEYUAN

—∞—

Chief Protector Zhaoyong was the first to step off the cloud. Sect Leader Junjie was just behind him, flanked by the amethyst-robed high protectors.

“We’re perfectly on schedule, Yiming,” Junjie said. He sounded unamused.

The other disciples started getting off, including Meiyao and Daojue. Jieyuan followed suit, jumping off to the ground. Some of the inner elders that had accompanied them turned around and gathered the composite cloudcraft back into their sleeves.

“Really? Guess I just couldn’t wait to see you, dear brother-in-law of mine.” Yiming stepped up, slinging an arm over Junjie’s shoulder and pulling him close in a half-hug. Junjie’s head was half-turned, and Jieyuan could see the long-suffering look on his face.

Yiming, still hugging Junjie, grinned up at Zhaoyong. “Father! So you’ll be joining us this year, after all.”

Zhaoyong sighed. “Please release the sect leader, Palace Head Yiming.”

Yiming gave the chief protector a mock scowl. “Stuffy as always.” But he let go of Junjie, before turning to Yunzhu.

“Yuyan!” He reached her in two large strides, arms spread wide, before pulling her into a hug, laughing. “It’s been almost a decade since I last saw you. How have you been? Is grumpy Junjie treating you well? Or do I need to give him a good, old beat-down?”

“Yiming…” Zhaoyong grumbled, low, threatening, but Yiming wasn’t hearing.

The palace head spun his sister around, laughing, before setting her down. Yuyan softly shook her head back at him as she patted her robes down. “Yiming, we’re in public,” she chided, but the smile on her face betrayed her.

“Please. If I’d cared about protocol and manners, I’d have stayed in the sect. The palace is my domain, and I’ll act as I very well please,” Yiming said. And then he was turning to Wanxin, arms open wide. “Come on, little sister.”

Wanxin, unlike the others, smiled widely and walked up to Yiming. Yiming engulfed her in a big hug, and she seemed to be hugging him back just as tightly. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Then visit,” Yiming said, more softly this time, so much so that Jieyuan only barely heard her. He let go of her and turned to Yunzhu. “You— Don’t tell me, Yunzhu?” he said, in mock shock. “Heavens, but you’ve grown! Last time I saw you, you were a wee, little thing!”

“Uncle Yiming!” Yunzhu said, brightly, and she took the initiative to wrap him in a hug. The fact they were the same height didn’t stop Yiming from spinning her around once, twice, thrice, before setting her down.

Jieyuan caught a groan from his side, and he turned around to see Meiyao slowly edging back and to the side, apprehensive, as she tried to move herself behind him. All the other disciples around them had looks of barely contained shock on their faces as they looked on—except Daojue, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, as always.

Jieyuan wasn’t nearly as surprised. Palace Head Yiming had a reputation in Radiant Gold City, and he’d actually met the man a couple of times before. His father’s ties to the Radiant Gold Sect had him often taking trips to the palaces of Radiant Gold City. Jieyuan got to tag along in some of those trips, though never to the Viridian Death palace.

Yiming hadn’t been nearly this friendly back then, but he’d still been thoroughly uncaring of protocol or conventions. Feet up on the table, slumped back on the chair. One time, when Jieyuan sat on one of his father’s meetings with the palace head, Yiming had even shot little, ten-year-old him a lock of exaggerated boredom, rolling his eyes, before winking.

What Jieyuan remembered best, though, was the one time Yiming had visited them at the Haoyujin Compound without calling ahead. His mother had still been alive back then, and Yiming had spent pretty much his entire time there flirting with her. His father had been unamused. More than his irreverence, Yiming was best known for trying to bed—and more often than not succeeding—pretty much any mildly attractive women he came across, mundane or chromal. Some men, too, but rumors regarding that weren’t as substantiated.

Jieyuan remembered well how pretty much every week there’d be a new scandal involving the palace head. Not because Yiming had forced himself on anyone. In that regard, Yiming’s reputation was squeaky clean, to the point that it was well-known that even if you were mundane, you could refuse his advances and absolutely nothing would come out of it, something that couldn’t be said about other cultivators. Rather, the scandals came about because as long as you weren’t wearing a bond band, Yiming wouldn’t hesitate to proposition you, even if you were known to be in a committed relationship—and, often, right in front of your long-term lover. As had been the case with Jieyuan’s mother.

The old man hadn’t taken him to the Gleaming Stone Palace again after that.

After Yunzhu came Yongyi’s turn—Yiming pulled his nephew into another bear hug that Yongyi seemed to endure with contained embarrassment—before the palace head looked out, scanning the crowd, suddenly looking predator-like.

“Meiyao?” Yiming called, scanning the crowd of disciples. “Don’t tell me— Are you hiding? Come on, little flower. You wound me. What happened to the little girl who’d run up to me and—” His eyes landed on Jieyuan. Or rather, on a spot just behind him. “There you are. Wait. Jieyuan? Is that you, kiddo?” Even as he spoke, he was already approaching, the other disciples quickly getting out of the way.

“It’s been a while, Palace Head,” Jieyuan said, extending a hand.

Yiming ignored it in favor of pulling him in for a quick but firm one-armed hug. “Come on, kiddo. Don’t think I don’t remember the little brat shadowing Old Haoyujin Huizhong.” Yiming released him but kept a hand on his shoulder as he looked him up and down, appraising. “I was busy during the entrance trials and didn’t know you’d be participating, otherwise I’d have checked up on you then. I’m sorry to hear about your father, by the way.”

“He lived a… meaningful life,” Jieyuan said.

“That he did.” Yiming nodded, solemn for a moment. But then his eyes widened, his gaze on a spot just behind Jieyuan. And for a moment, Yiming looked haunted, hurt. But then it was over, and the palace head was all smiles again. “Meiyao! Heavens, but you look just like your mother. For a moment there, I mistook you for Lianhua.”

Stolen story; please report.

Yiming gently pushed Jieyuan to the side, and he complied. Meiyao stayed where she was. She looked conflicted.

“It’s been a while, Uncle Yiming,” she said, even.

Yiming’s expression fell again—and he looked at her more closely. Then he slowly nodded his head. “It really has.” His voice was softer now. “You…” He leaned closer and gave her a gentler, but still firm hug. He whispered something to her that Jieyuan couldn’t hear. Meiyao’s eyes briefly widened, but then she shook her head, whispering something back, and Yiming released her, stepping back. He gave her another long, considering look, still serious, before turning around to where the elders were standing.

“I’ll be dealing with the bunch of you later,” Yiming said, dismissively. Zhaoyong groaned. “Yongyi, Yunzhu, with me. I’ll be showing you to your rooms. Same for you, Meiyao, Jieyuan, and…” Yiming turned to Daojue. “Tianzijun Daojue, right?”

“Yes,” Daojue said.

“Hmmm. Those are some curious eyes you’ve got. Violet.”

Daojue said nothing.

Yiming, clearly not used to Daojue, waited for him to say something or otherwise react. When it finally dawned on the palace head that Daojue had no intention of doing any such thing, Yiming gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Well, we’ve all got our quirks, I guess.”

Yiming motioned for them to follow, but then stopped, looking past them to all the other disciples, all of them just standing there, looking rather like they didn’t know what they were supposed to be. “Palace servants will be arriving shortly to take you all to your rooms. Consider yourselves welcomed and all that.”

“Palace Head—” one of the high elders—the only one that wasn’t a Liangshibai, a middle-aged woman—began saying, but Zhaoyong put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, and the chief protector gave a slight shake of his head. The woman frowned but remained silent.

Yunzhu and Yongyi. Jieyuan glanced at the two Liangshibai, who were making their way over. He set off walking, following Yiming out of the courtyard, Meiyao beside him and Daojue trailing just a step behind. Yunzhu and Yongyi joined them as they reached one of the corridors surrounding the courtyards, leading to an enclosed walkway down into one of the buildings of the palace. Yongyi fell into pace beside Meiyao, on her other side, whereas Yunzhu hung back, beside Daojue.

Yongyi was now within range of his soulsense, and Jieyuan found that the core disciple was at sixth-sign Redsoul. Out of the corner of his eye, Jieyuan saw Yongyi glance at Meiyao once, twice, open his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately say nothing. Meiyao looked resolutely ahead as if she couldn’t see her half-brother. Behind them, Daojue was engaged in a similar effort, thoroughly ignoring Yunzhu’s existence. Unfortunately, Yunzhu wasn’t Yongyi.

“So, Daojue,” Yunzhu said, eyes fixed on Daojue as if he held the secrets of the Heavens, as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world. “Are you excited for the Summit?”

It mystified Jieyuan how Yunzhu could be so obsessed with Daojue and yet so ignorant of what Daojue was actually like. Excited? Daojue? Not for the first time, Jieyuan wondered what exactly it was that Yunzhu saw when she looked at Daojue—because it most certainly wasn’t Daojue himself.

Daojue, of course, remained perfectly silent and didn’t so much as glance in her direction. Despite that, Jieyuan could tell that Daojue was tense, ready, prepared. Yunzhu, it seemed, was just about the only thing that could unnerve the Metalsoul—and it only took her a couple of words to do so.

“Yunzhu!” Yiming called from up ahead. He had his head back, and his eyes were on Yunzhu and Daojue. “Walk with me, little ruby. Tell me what your mother has been getting up to as of late.”

Yunzhu looked from Yiming to Daojue, visibly hesitating, before mouthing “Bye,” to Daojue and stepping up ahead, joining Yiming at the front. Yiming glanced back again, sending Daojue a brief look before he leaned closer to his niece. The two began talking about Wanxin and life at the sect—and also not for the first time, Jieyuan marveled at how perfectly normal Yunzhu became the moment Daojue was out of the picture.

Yiming led them down a couple of corridors, all of them well-lit by both windows and gemstone lights on the ceiling. As he walked towards a large pair of doors, they opened on their own, giving way to a massive room, big enough you could’ve easily fit a sizable three-story house inside it. There were no windows on it, but a smattering of gemstone lights were scattered throughout the ceiling, in what was a probably intentional resemblance to the starry sky. Jieyuan could see some small vents near the top of the room. It resembled the gymnasiums of Earth.

Distributed at the corners of the room were four raised square platforms, each one well over fifty feet across, with another, bigger one at the center, double their size. There was also an expansive rack filled with weapons at the other end of the room. Everything else was sleek marble.

“The palace’s main training room,” Yiming said, turning back to them. “If you feel like training before the summit, do it here. This isn’t the sect. If you train outside, chances are that others will watch you and pass on what they see to the other cabals. Quite a lot hinges on the results of the Summit tournament, so everyone will be looking for every advantage they can get. I wouldn’t trust the servants, in particular.”

Yiming winked at Jieyuan. “Isn’t that right?”

Jieyuan gave him a polite smile. “I wouldn’t know.” The Radiant Gold Sect had entrusted his father with bribing the servants of the other palaces for information on the competitors of the other cabals. He wasn’t particularly surprised Yiming was aware.

“Now, I’m not sure what you all have been told about the Summit tournament, but to keep things simple… The first five days of the Summit, all the higher-ups will gather and bicker over resource allocation, treaties, and what have you. It’s a bore, really.”

Yiming lowered his voice, affecting a conspiratorial tone, “What you need to know, though, is that deals are only struck after the tournament, which starts on the twentieth and lasts until the twenty-ninth, based on the results—that is, how well each cabal’s disciples did. The official explanation is that the tournament serves as a proxy for war between the four cabals. In reality, what happens is that the upper echelons can’t be bothered to fight it out, so they bet using your final rankings. The whole system only works, of course, because the Howling Lightning Sect envoy is there to ensure all four cabals hold up the end of their bargains.”

Yiming then nodded at Meiyao. “Now, for Meiyao, Daojue, and Jieyuan”—he nodded twice more, in sequence, to the two of them—“the situation’s a bit different. Generally, only disciples at fifth-sign and above participate, but you three have fourth-order heavenly affinity. That means that the Howling Lightning Sect envoy will try to scout you, and as I understand it, you three will be accepting. In return, the Gleaming Stone Sect will be getting a very significant finder’s fee. If you do well in the tournament, great—but there’s not much of a pressure on you three.”

Turning to his nephew, Yiming continued, “As for you, nephew of mine, your situation’s a bit different. You’re a third-order, so you’ll also be getting a scouting offer. But you’ll be staying, right?” At that, Yongyi frowned, glancing at Meiyao, but he ultimately nodded his head. “I thought as much. In that case, your results in the tournament do matter. In fact, from the reports I’ve gotten, you’re the strongest disciple in the sect’s current line-up. You want to aim for first place. Got it?”

“Got it,” Yongyi said. It was the first time Jieyuan had heard the core disciple speak. He had a deep, resonant voice, worthy of an orator. Similar to that of his father, the sect leader, but not nearly as cold and detached.

“Excellent. Finally, Yunzhu…” Yongyi shrugged. “Well, do your best. Try to take out any fifth-sign redsouls you come across, but if you can’t, well—if anyone finds fault with you, they’ll have to go through my sister first, and that just isn’t happening. So just go ahead and have fun or something.”

“Have fun?” Yunzhu shot her uncle an exaggerated look of offense. “I’m no slouch at combat, uncle.”

“Oh, I never said you were, not when you have Wanxin and Taishou for parents. But seriously, now. Take it easy, and if you ever feel as if you’re in any danger, give up. I’m not kidding. If you get hurt, Wanxin will go ballistic—and she might just end up starting a war with another cabal. I may not care much for cabal law, but as far as Wanxin’s concerned, she is the law. So I know it’s unfair to you, but you have to look out for yourself, here. You can’t let yourself be hurt.”

“I… I see,” Yunzhu said.

Yiming smiled at her. “Like I said, don’t take it too seriously, and just enjoy your time there. Now, let’s get going.” He shooed them away from the training room and back into the corridor. “I still need to show you five to your rooms, and then go make nice with the high protectors and convince them to let me stay as the palace head.”