Once Song Mingzhen had made himself presentable, he departed for the main hall. The short walk across his courtyard felt far longer than it actually was, as he grew more anxious with every step that he took. Only a few days had passed since he began to rejoin society, and he was still having some trouble and discomfort when interacting with his own family members— this meeting today would be a diplomatic matter with another clan’s representative. How would he handle something like that?
He paused for a moment when he reached the main courtyard’s gate, not going in immediately. The unsettled feeling in his chest which he had just managed to calm had flared up once again, causing a dull ache to settle into his body and behind his eyes. Someone had come to discuss the attacks, and he had been there— but he had gone out to save the people, not to answer questions about it. He hadn’t prepared for this.
He reached out and leaned against the wall, breathing slowly and deeply as he tried to settle himself again. It wouldn’t do him any good to go inside already flustered.
Had this sort of thing happened to him before? Or was it some new trouble resulting from his injury?
Focusing in on the source of the feelings sent the waves of anxiety to the back of his mind, and he gradually found it easier to breathe. The edge of his nervousness was sanded down until it became smooth— and then, it was no longer too sharp to handle.
Before Song Mingzhen could continue onward across the courtyard, the doors to the main hall opened up, and Song Minghan came out. He looked briefly around the courtyard, then his gaze fell on his brother, and he hurried over to meet him.
“Xiongzhang is here now,” Song Minghan sighed. “Good. All of this can be sorted out, then.”
“How is it?” Song Mingzhen asked, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips.
Song Minghan seemed relieved to see him… almost too relieved. While Song Mingzhen was glad to talk to his brother before going in, this also didn’t set him any more at ease. Song Minghan’s expression was a little bit odd, and the smile vanished from his face as soon as he heard his brother’s inquiries. Then, a slightly more anxious smile appeared as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Ah,” he said, “They’re going well enough— it’s only a bit difficult since Ning Feiyun is the one who came.”
“Ning Feiyun?” Song Mingzhen tilted his head slightly to one side. The name sounded a bit familiar, but that was mainly due to the surname. The Ning family were a subsidiary of Yinshan’s Qin clan. While the Qin clan ruled, the Ning clan acted as their hands, eyes, and blades— in short, executing all of their orders and enforcing their rule throughout the region. They weren’t one of the five great clans, but their members were considered legitimate cultivators— still, this was a bit odd. “Why would Yinshan send a representative from the Ning clan? I thought the Qin clan handled this sort of thing themselves.”
“That was how it was before the war,” Song Minghan replied, “But in these past five years, the Ning family has had a much larger role in all of Yinshan’s matters. It’s not unusual for one of their young masters to be tasked with something informal like this… but still, Ning Feiyun can be far too intense. From the way he’s been talking, it almost feels as though he suspects that we had something to do with the attack.”
So that was why Song Minghan seemed so uneasy. Song Mingzhen sighed, feeling the headache behind his eyes growing a little more intense with each new piece of information. Apparently, this wouldn’t just be a friendly chat between fellow cultivators. “Isn’t it a bit presumptuous for a subsidiary clan’s young master to behave that way in Jieyun Hall?” he asked.
Song Minghan shrugged helplessly. “Well, there isn’t much that can be done. Qin-zongzhu has extended quite a lot of authority to the Ning clan. Since Ning Feiyun was sent here on his behalf, then he does so with the full backing of the ruling clan. I’m sure he’ll listen to you more, Xiongzhang— so you should hurry inside. The sooner he is satisfied, the sooner he’ll leave, and the sooner we can all get back to what we were doing before.”
It was clear that Song Minghan’s opinion of this person was quite bad— right now, he was doing his best to have a calm demeanor, but it seemed that beneath the mask was a little bird whose feathers were all ruffled up, indignantly hopping from one foot to the other and loudly chirping in protest. There was no doubt that Ning Feiyun’s behavior was an affront to the younger brother, and Song Mingzhen thought that it probably hadn’t been the first time, either.
He sighed once again, then waved his hand in dismissal. “Go on, then,” he said, “I will go help our father resolve this.”
Strangely enough, Song Mingzhen felt just a little less anxious now, likely because he knew what to expect. Song Minghan had been flustered, but it was likely due to his youth and indignation at the way that a cultivator from a subsidiary clan was carrying himself. If that was the most worrying aspect of this situation, then Song Mingzhen didn’t think it would be too bad.
The moment he stepped across the main hall’s threshold, however, the tension immediately returned.
It wasn’t because he himself felt considerably more anxious— it was just that the atmosphere in here was too strange!
A few cultivators wearing the Song clan’s golden robes were lingering around the edges of the hall, either completely silent or talking with one another with hushed voices. Song Mingzhen recognized a few of them as having been present on the night of the attack. At the back of the hall, Song Weicheng stood conversing with a young man dressed in slate-grey clothing. There was something about Song Weicheng’s demeanor that seemed a little odd and out of place, but before Song Mingzhen could figure out what it was, Song Weicheng glanced in his direction. Instantly, the clan leader looked more relaxed, and with a pleasant smile, he beckoned for Song Mingzhen to join them.
“Mingzhen, you’ve arrived. Come. Ning-san-gongzi wishes to know more about what happened on the night of the attack,” Song Weicheng explained, then turned back toward his guest. “My son is the one who thwarted the attack, after all— he will know best what happened in the city.”
Song Mingzhen came to stand alongside his father and dipped his head in greeting. Ning Feiyun was slightly taller than he was, with slender shoulders and long legs. His features were a bit soft around the edges, contrasting with his dark brows that were set in a firm, serious line. His sharp phoenix eyes reminded Song Mingzhen a bit of a falcon’s, alert and attentive, and he was dressed in a fashion both elegant and practical, with his long, black hair fastened on top of his head in a silver guan. Between his posture and his appearance, there was little doubt in Song Mingzhen’s mind— this person was a skilled fighter first, a diplomat second.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be too difficult to handle.
In Dayuan, there was only one cultivation clan. The Song family and its branches led the region from Ruijian Pavilion, handling most issues themselves and rarely needing outside assistance. In many cases, the common people were able to go about their lives with little interference from the cultivators. Yinshan was different— aside from being a much larger region, there was also the topography to consider. Most of Yinshan was mountainous, with many secluded areas that made great hiding places for monsters or heretical cultivators. One cultivation clan alone would be spread far too thin, easily overwhelmed by the amount of things to do— and besides that, the Qin clan had been toolmakers since antiquity. Though their contributions to the cultivation world were significant, with many of the most widely-used spiritual tools throughout the five regions originating from Yinshan, they were not known for being great warriors. That reputation belonged to the Ning clan. Though they were not counted among the five great clans, the two clans’ ancestors had been close since before the Great Demonic War. When the Qin family took on their official role as the great clan watching over Yinshan, they brought the Ning clan along with them to be an extension of their authority and to supplement their martial force.
Though the Ning family had produced many talented cultivators over the centuries, they were never seen to be on the same level as the great clans, and were always treated as subservient to the Qin clan’s leadership. Because of this, there had been several incidents of rebellion and acting out from members of this family throughout history as they attempted to assert themselves. Because of the ancient friendship between the two families, the Qin clan’s leaders had always been lenient with their misbehaving guard dogs, and the other clans had been unable to do anything about it. If it weren’t for the Qin clan’s continuous support, then Ning Feiyun certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to throw his weight around. Since the end of the war, though, things must be more uneasy for the Ning family than usual given their history.
Song Mingzhen could certainly make use of that.
Because of the gaps in his memories, Song Mingzhen didn’t know if he and Ning Feiyun had met in the past— so he tried to act neutrally so that it wouldn’t be too out of place either way. “Ah, so Ning-san-gongzi has become aware of these recent events. It is true that I was the one to thwart the attack— but I must ask, why would a young master from Yinshan be so concerned about Dayuan’s matters that he should hurry here so quickly to inquire about them?”
Of course, Ning Feiyun’s concerns themselves were perfectly reasonable— besides the fact that Dayuan was the central among the five regions and Anfeng City was the largest commercial hub in the continent, there was also the recent war to consider, and that this new threat, if it wasn’t addressed, could easily spread to other regions. That wasn’t Song Mingzhen’s point in asking, though. Regardless of the sound reasoning behind this visit, it would be best to put his opponent on the defensive, wouldn’t it?
This attempt was a success— far more successful than Song Mingzhen could have anticipated. As soon as the words, polite yet probing, left his lips, Ning Feiyun seemed to stiffen. His complexion even turned a shade paler, and that keen gaze that had been fixed on the father-son pair drifted slightly toward the ground. Even Song Weicheng seemed a little surprised, his brows raised, though he said nothing. Song Mingzhen himself continued to hold Ning Feiyun within his gaze, watching for every twitch of his lip, every furrow of his brow.
“My visit here today is by request of Qin-zongzhu, of course,” Ning Feiyun replied, “I am here to determine if we need to take any sort of special security measures along our border, and to offer assistance if it is required.” His voice was a bit stiff— he clearly hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. Good.
“Is that so?” Song Mingzhen tilted his head to the side. “Well, it’s rather late to worry about the border now— if the perpetrators meant to escape to Yinshan, they would have long since hidden themselves within the mountains. As for assistance, I assure you that Ruijian Pavilion is more than capable of handling Dayuan’s affairs— Yinshan’s cultivators would do better to concern themselves with their own.”
Ning Feiyun didn’t respond right away. The confidence he had been carrying himself with had all but evaporated, seemingly more out of surprise than anything else. Though Song Mingzhen found himself satisfied with his success, he couldn’t help but feel it was a little too easy— had he been too direct?
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
He almost felt a bit sorry for Ning Feiyun, and decided he would ease up a little. “Fortunately, the casualties were few, and the attackers did not seem to target the common people,” he explained, “Nonetheless, the fact remains that one of our disciples was killed that night— it seems that there is at least one Zhuji-stage cultivator among our enemies, so it would be wise to be vigilant, especially since we have not yet found their trail or discerned their intentions.”
“I see,” Ning Feiyun replied, nodding slowly. “I’ve already spoken to others who were present; it seems that there’s nothing more to be gained here. Song-zongzhu, Song-gongzi, I shall take my leave, then, and inform Qin-zongzhu of this. We will set up checkpoints along the border and increase patrols throughout the region. I trust that Song-zongzhu will send word of any pertinent developments as soon as possible.”
Once Ning Feiyun had departed from Jieyun Hall, there was a moment of silence. Then, Song Weicheng turned toward Song Mingzhen. “I did not expect that you would be so aggressive with Ning-san-gongzi,” he mused.
Song Mingzhen bowed his head. “My apologies, I still have much to adjust to. I hope that my conduct today has not caused any trouble.”
“Ah, there won’t be any trouble,” Song Weicheng shook his head, “It was only a bit surprising… but I suppose war does have a way of changing people. Still, that boy is far too bold coming here to question our methods. Out of everyone, he is the one who is most suspicious.”
“Ning Feiyun, suspicious? How so?” Song Mingzhen frowned.
“He shares a common origin with the Generals of the Nameless,” Song Weicheng replied.
“But… is he not from a prestigious family?”
Even if Ning Feiyun was not descended from the Qin clan, his own family had long been considered legitimate cultivators— meanwhile, none of the Seven Generals of the Nameless had any family background to speak of.
“He may bear the surname now, but that Ning-san-gongzi was not born as such. It was a custom in his family that each generation would take in a promising child from Mengshan Temple to raise as their own. Ning Feiyun happens to be one such child,” Song Weicheng explained.
Ah… no wonder the atmosphere had been so strange.
Mengshan Temple had been established long ago by an old Daoist master whose name had been lost to history as a place for orphaned or abandoned children to be taken in. There, they received an education, and those with aptitude were even taught some rudimentary cultivation. It was never anything beyond early Ningqi-stage, but this place was nonetheless an exception to the rule that cultivation was forbidden outside of the great clans. The reasons for this exception were not entirely known— but it wasn’t uncommon for the children who showed aptitude to be taken in by one of the clans to bolster their ranks, or to betroth to one of their daughters, or for any other number of reasons. Aside from that, Mengshan Temple had always been willing to work alongside the great clans and didn’t overstep any boundaries that were given— so because there was a role in society for such a place, and because it would be a shame for a child with great spiritual aptitude, a potential asset for the cultivation world, to go unnoticed merely because of their background, Mengshan Temple was allowed to persist.
That is, until the Nameless appeared and plunged the cultivation world into conflict. Song Mingzhen’s ability to recall the events of the war was extremely limited, with almost all of the details completely obscured— nonetheless, at the mention of Mengshan Temple, he felt a certain bitterness sink down heavily within his heart.
Ning Feiyun, coming from that same background, would naturally have some connection to the heretics— even if he had been accepted and acknowledged as a member of the orthodoxy. Whether that connection would be enough to stoke disloyalty within him was up for debate, of course— and it had almost certainly been heavily debated ever since the war first broke out. Truly, if he had nothing to do with the Nameless, the scrutiny he was under simply by association must have weighed heavily upon him all this time. If that were the case, then Song Mingzhen felt his situation must be quite regrettable— but he couldn’t deny the possibility either.
“Ning Feiyun has not shown any sign of disloyalty,” Song Weicheng continued after a moment, “Nonetheless, he cannot be entirely cleared of suspicion.”
His father’s words confirmed his earlier hypothesis— the scrutiny had no doubt been there. Both Ning Feiyun and Song Weicheng had certainly known what each thought of the other, and Song Mingzhen himself, as his father’s son, had likely also been suspicious in the past. Still, in this situation it didn’t add up. “Would Ning-san-gongzi truly be so proactive in searching for the criminals if he were involved with them?” he asked.
“Perhaps not,” Song Weicheng mused, “But there is also a chance that this visit was meant to cover his tracks. Yinshan received word of the attack rather quickly, and Ning Feiyun came here alone. Still… I would hesitate to pass judgment prematurely.”
“I see,” Song Mingzhen replied. He thought for a moment, then asked, “And what of his family? Could they have any part in this?”
“That is unlikely. Even though there have been conflicts in the past, the Ning clan has never fully broken off their loyalty to the Qin clan, and the current clan leader has only ever been a devoted subordinate. Besides, they would have little to gain from supporting the heretics— still, Ning-zongzhu considers his adopted son to be no different than those of his own blood. He has continually supported Ning Feiyun and vouched for his loyalty. Even if the other clans suspect Ning Feiyun, his father would not allow an investigation without clear evidence.”
So that was why there were still so many questions as to Ning Feiyun’s loyalty— there had never been the opportunity to properly investigate, and to confirm whether he was innocent or guilty. “Aside from past association, has Ning Feiyun ever done anything worthy of this suspicion?” Song Mingzhen inquired.
“No, he has not. But the Generals of the Nameless are all dead or securely imprisoned, and their followers and offshoots have been thoroughly suppressed. There are few remaining suspects, so it is only natural to turn to old leads,” Song Weicheng replied.
“This could be the work of an unknown individual,” Song Mingzhen countered, “If there is no evidence that leads to Ning Feiyun, then perhaps we would be distracting ourselves by focusing too heavily on him.”
“That is true,” Song Weicheng ceded, “Nonetheless, it wouldn’t do to be entirely unguarded. As for you, Mingzhen, you must continue to focus on your recovery for now. It would not do for you to overexert yourself and fall ill again. Minghan will be able to handle this trouble on his own, for now.”
Once he was dismissed, Song Mingzhen returned to his own courtyard. He stopped by the library on the way back, picking up a few volumes of records to read through. He spent the afternoon sitting beside the pool in his courtyard and sipping tea as he sifted through the books he’d taken, pausing every once in awhile to watch the breeze rippling over the surface of the water. Though he had no doubt had a consummate education in the past, he was unsure how much he may be missing— so he tried to catch himself up on topics ranging from the establishment of the great clans following the Great Demonic War, to the first rebellion five hundred years ago after which cultivation outside of the great clans was banned, to the most recently-concluded conflict. For now, though, the most important thing would be to catch up on those recent events… and perhaps these records could have some potential leads regarding the attack on Anfeng City. Song Weicheng told him to recover and not to worry about these matters— but how could Song Mingzhen just sit by?
Even if he didn’t find anything, it would still be useful for him to know of those events, rather than having to rely on guesswork and the knowledge of those around him.
He thought again about the new information he had learned today. His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he considered Ning Feiyun’s position. If that person really had connections to the Generals of the Nameless, then it wouldn’t necessarily be unreasonable to suspect that those connections might be leveraged against the cultivation world. Still, it would be odd for him to draw attention to himself in that case— Song Mingzhen thought that a traitor would prefer to lay low.
Though Song Weicheng had verbally given Ning Feiyun the benefit of the doubt, he hadn’t seemed fully convinced. It was clear that Ning Feiyun was still the primary suspect, simply because there was a lack of other known places to look. This could be detrimental, though… and perhaps the true culprit was relying on someone like Ning Feiyun to act as a scapegoat, planning to act in the shadows while the scrutiny fell on someone else. Besides all that, someone like Ning Feiyun would certainly be conscious of his own precarious position. The war had ended five years ago— still quite recent. The cultivation world had yet to fully settle, if the atmosphere in Ruijian Pavilion was any indication. Even if Ning Feiyun were a traitor, even if he resented the Song clan for their part in the defeat of the Nameless, Song Mingzhen didn’t think he’d lash out so blatantly right now. Anyone could see that this would be a move with no tactical justification, and Ning Feiyun hadn’t seemed like someone blinded by rage.
That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that he had already been given an opportunity to rise up in life, becoming a member of a prestigious clan. Even if he didn’t care for his adopted family at all and cared little about betraying them, would he truly risk losing everything he had gained for the sake of someone he may have known once as a child?
It was possible, of course, but it didn’t seem particularly probable.
Evening fell, and Song Mingzhen continued to flip through the record books by lantern-light. He could have gone inside, but he found the cool breeze and fresh air in his courtyard far too pleasant to leave just yet. When he heard a set of footsteps approaching, he glanced up.
“Didn’t Fuqin already tell Xiongzhang not to strain himself until he had fully recovered?” Song Minghan asked, moving to sit down opposite Song Mingzhen. He picked up one of the record books, idly leafing through it before placing it down once again. “Besides that, these books probably won’t help much,” he said.
“Oh?” Song Mingzhen asked, tilting his head.
“Mn. Even if the attack really was connected to the Nameless, records like that won’t turn up any new leads,” Song Minghan replied, “They were just as they are called— the true identities of most of them remained completely unknown. As for those that were discovered… hardly any of them had any connections to speak of, and those that did exist were already dealt with.”
Upon hearing that last phrase, spoken callously and off-handedly, Song Mingzhen suddenly felt a little prickle of discomfort in his chest. “I see,” he said, turning back to a page where the names of known associates of the Nameless had been written down. What Song Minghan said was true— hardly any had more than an alias. Rarely, there was a surname or a place of origin, but there was no discernible pattern to those. He supposed that made sense, though. “In that case, where should we begin searching?”
“For now, we can only wait and watch,” Song Minghan replied. Then, as though he suddenly remembered something, he lifted up his head. “And— and you shouldn’t begin doing anything! You only just woke up, and you already want to start saving the world again? Just focus on recovering, like Fuqin said.”
Then, before Song Mingzhen could stop him, he reached out and scooped up the stack of record books, standing up suddenly.
“Hey!” Song Mingzhen’s eyes widened and he stood as well, “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking these back to the library,” Song Minghan replied with a stubborn expression on his face. “Now you just go back to sleeping and meditating. I’ll handle all of it myself and let you know if I need your help— until then, there’s no reason for you to worry about it.”
He seemed even more firm about this than Song Weicheng… suddenly, Song Mingzhen realized something, and a little smirk stretched across his features. “Very well, then,” he yielded, “I will give xiao-didi the chance to make a name for himself.”
“You!” Song Minghan’s face flushed, and he snorted in frustration as he held the books tightly in his arms— it seemed that Song Mingzhen had hit the nail on the head. “Don’t tease me! Xiongzhang was already famous at my age— how can I even begin to measure up to our family’s great hero? At least let me solve this case for myself.”
“Didn’t I already say that I would?” Song Mingzhen asked, smiling even more broadly now. “Alright, alright— just tell Gege if you need any help.”
The first meeting between these two brothers after Song Mingzhen’s awakening had ended awkwardly as the two realized they were little more than strangers— now, though, it seemed that the awkwardness had melted away. Hearing Song Minghan declare that he wished to make a name for himself and finding something to tease him filled Song Mingzhen with a sense of nostalgia. Song Minghan was still quite young and immature, even though he wanted to act grown-up. Song Mingzhen may yet have time to be a good older brother to him.
“Now, Minghan should hurry off. If you stay around here, I might just try to take those books back,” he said, still smirking.
“Hmph,” Song Minghan snorted, shaking his head. “As if I would let you. Listen to Fuqin— focus on your recovery. If you want to read, then read a novel or something like that and don’t be so serious. Just watch— I’ll have that perpetrator bound and kneeling in front of the main hall before you know it.”
“Ha… I’m sure you will,” Song Mingzhen replied as he watched his younger brother go. He chuckled a little, running his fingers through his hair as he released a long, heavy sigh.
He hoped that Song Minghan was right, and that this situation wouldn’t trouble them for too long. He also hoped that the boy would find success— over all these years it couldn’t have been easy for him to live in his brother’s shadow. Succeeding here would bolster his confidence. Besides that, maybe Song Mingzhen really didn’t need to handle everything on his own. Either way, there was no reason for the two of them to compete.
With one last look at the cold stars in the sky above, Song Mingzhen got up and retreated into his house. The sweet fragrance of incense filled the room as he took a seat and shut his eyes, entering meditation.
His father and Song Minghan were right— if this really did turn into a bigger problem, he would handle it a lot better if he were fully recovered. For now, he would keep focusing on that.