Qian Shanyi and Wang Yonghao gathered their things, and then headed back to their tavern. Before she was going to meet with Jian Wei, Shanyi wanted to at least wash the sand and sweat away and change into a clean set of clothes. Her current scarlet robes were mildly self-cleaning, dust already flaking off the silken fabric, but she needed to sell an impression, and for that, she needed to look her best.
“That went surprisingly well,” Wang Yonghao said once they were past the crowds around the square. “I was really worried when I saw the size of that glass shambler.”
“Jian Shizhe was quite lucky to find one this large, hmm?” she hummed like a pleased cat. She glanced behind them briefly. Nobody in earshot or on their tail. “I told you my plan was good. Willing to bet money it would have broken out if we didn’t kill it. Thank you for your help, sincerely.”
Wang Yonghao nodded, accepting her thanks. For a minute, they walked together in silence. They did not have time to waste, but not so much they had to rush.
“It feels strange,” he finally said quietly. “Something happens, and I am not at the center. Just watching from the sidelines.”
“A good feeling, one might hope?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Mostly just a different one.”
The slightest hint of a frown passed over Qian Shanyi’s brows. “Hmm. Well, don’t count your geese quite yet. Did you see what happened to that building foundation cultivator?”
“No. I was keeping track of you.”
Qian Shanyi clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Shame. I lost track of him as well, and by the time we finished, he wasn’t present anymore.”
Wang Yonghao looked around, far more obvious than she was. She had to put an arm around his shoulder to keep him from walking into a crate that was left sitting in front of some store. “You think he’s related?”
“I think that if there is a demon wasp in the room, I want to know where it is so I don’t sit on it,” she grumbled. “Nothing to it. Let’s focus on the present.”
They reached the tavern soon enough, and she dipped into the bath next to their room, while Wang Yonghao went into his inner world, to thoroughly wash the swords she used during the duel. The crystal bomb explosions had buried them deep within the glass shambler’s corpse, and after they dug them out with his solar goose technique, were absolutely drenched in gore.
She briefly wondered if the corpse was hers now, or Jian Shizhe’s, but decided to leave it to him and his sect. Even if she had a claim she could stake, dealing with it wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Whatever sway she had with Jian Wei was better spent on other things.
The bath was a little cramped - only a small room, with barely enough space to step outside of the stone basin itself - but it was private, and served as a perfect excuse to use their own bath in their world fragment. There was a pipe for fresh water, coming from a reservoir on the roof of the tavern, and a wooden stove beneath the bath itself to heat the water.
This was the first time Qian Shanyi actually used it herself. She filled it in the morning, deciding it would be better to take a quick wash here than waste time getting into and out of the world fragment. By now, the water was only tepid, but she didn’t care, and sunk into the basin, rubbing the sand and dust out of her skin and hair.
Sitting under the water, she forced the duel to fade from her mind, and focused on her upcoming confrontation with Jian Wei. Her plan was risky, but if she could pull it off…
She’d just have to bluff in the face of a building foundation cultivator, and not get caught.
And if she was caught…
She was committed, now, her cards on the table. She claimed to be from the Sky Void Island sect during the duel, and signed as an ambassador of the same in a letter she sent to Jian Wei in the morning. It was a hard lie to disprove, but only because right now, it was only based on her own word, her honor. If Jian Wei started to suspect her - the entire game would end on the spot.
She rose out of the bath, mind busy with calculation, and picked up her new set of robes - pure white, with barely a decoration besides a light black trim. They had to be careful about what they used and wore to minimize exposure, so she made two inventory lists, back when she was still recovering from her injuries. One of what they actually owned, and one of what they claimed they owned, things they either bought in town or that could have plausibly fit within their bags when each of them arrived here.
That limited her to two sets of robes and three swords - all of which she used in her duel. When she stepped back into their bedroom, wringing water out of her long black hair, Wang Yonghao was back with her swords, already packed up into their wooden crate with fresh hay. She pinned her hair up into a large bun - it was still damp, and she didn’t want it to drip down her back - picked up a couple letters she wrote in the morning, and then they were off towards the sect.
Wang Yonghao was coming mostly as a last resort, in case they would need to flee town immediately. He’d stay at the gates: this scheme required precision he lacked, and she didn’t want his face giving away the entire game.
As they walked the streets, she felt a familiar anxious tension come over her, like a pull on her joints, the same one she felt before every complex plan. Like balancing on the edge of a cliff, preparing to leap off into the lake below.
Miscalculate, and splatter on the rocks.
But once in motion, the tension would vanish, transform into focus. She just had to make that leap.
----------------------------------------
The Northern Scarlet Stream sect compound was, much like that of any important sect, close to the center of town. Close to the imperial offices, to trade and commerce. A seat of power, of control - fitting, for a man like Jian Wei.
The gates towered over the surrounding buildings, a minor landmark, blocky pillars of wood supporting an equally large roof far above the street. Each of them was painted purple, the color of the sect, with murals describing key moments in its history. The left column was filled up all the way to the top, the right only a third of the way.
For some sects, this would have been a good source of information - but Northern Scarlet Stream settled on a very abstract style, one that made it difficult to tell what was going on, if you did not already know.
No doors or portcullis - the courtyard beyond lay open and inviting, seen easily from the street. A hundred years ago this would have been a daring gesture - we need no walls to defend ourselves. Nowadays, it was the style of all the sects, with rare exceptions.
Carts came loaded with food, wood and textiles, and left with crates full of glassware, off to the sect’s warehouses elsewhere in town. A glass store was built into the wall of the compound, to the side of the courtyard, and she saw plenty of disciples hurrying around the place. She visited it shortly, during their shopping trip around town - to copy over the costs of what she wanted to haggle over later.
The gates themselves were flanked by a pair of disciples - both men, one a young cultivator of not even sixteen, and one an ordinary person, well into his years. The cultivator wore the purple robes of an inner disciple, the same long sword as Jian Shizhe strapped across his back, while the old man wore gray robes with a purple sash - an outer disciple, though highly placed.
She had seen both of them in the morning - but gone were the friendly faces, and instead, the two eyed their approach warily. She remembered the young boy being quite a chatterbox, but he was silent now, looking at his elder for guidance.
It seems the news of her duel had already reached back home.
She stopped a couple meters away from the outer disciple and bowed respectfully. “This here cultivator had come to request a meeting with the righteous and honorable Elder Ever-Dancing Sunlight of the Northern Scarlet Stream,” she said formally. She briefly wished she had asked for the names of the two disciples in the morning, but carried on. “My name is Qian Shanyi. I have sent a letter in advance - did he already return?”
The two men shared a look. “He did,” the outer disciple confirmed after a momentary pause, making a gesture towards the inner. “But Elder Jian is very busy - we of the Northern Scarlet Stream sect cannot guarantee you will be able to meet today.”
The inner disciple stepped through the gates, and caught one of the outer disciples hurrying through the courtyard, sending them off with a message. Qian Shanyi’s eyes followed after him, noting more wary glances thrown in her direction from all over the courtyard.
“Of course,” she said, bowing again, though her eyebrow rose slightly. She would have expected Jian Wei to either give her a time to meet, or to order her to be tossed out of his town entirely - but instead, he seemed to have left no orders at all. “Should I wait here?...”
Perhaps he simply didn’t have the time yet to read her message? She would have thought he would do that as soon as he heard about the duel. Was he not told about that, as well? If so, she’d have to adjust her approach a fraction.
“If it would please the honorable cultivator,” the outer disciple bowed, his face neutral. Too neutral. A careful, polite mask. “We are afraid we may not offer a more comfortable waiting room at this time.”
Not “we do not have a room”, but “we may not offer a room”. She was being excluded, though in a deniable manner, and by a mere underling at that. Perhaps understandable, after humiliating their young master - but she was presenting an image. An image that would not stand for an inconvenience, and was still too fragile to afford any inconsistencies in her behavior.
“Is that how the Northern Scarlet Stream sect treats the ambassador of the Sky Void Island sect?” she said coldly, looking down on the two disciples. She was taller than both of them by a good head, which helped. “Waiting at the gates, like a common draft horse?”
Surprise on both faces - poorly concealed on the older, open on the younger. That confirmed her suspicions - Jian Wei really did not tell them she was coming. She did not speak of the sect before the duel, and whatever news they heard must not have mentioned it either.
The young cultivator seemed ready to speak, but glanced at the older man and kept quiet. To deny a courtesy to a loose cultivator was one thing - but to deny one to someone from a sect, come on official business, was quite another.
“This disciple begs for forgiveness,” the outer disciple bowed to her after only a bit of hesitation, deeper this time. “But the chief of the guestrooms had said our rooms were out of order since this morning, because of the renovations. I may send a request, if it would please the honorable immortal?”
It is out of my hands. You’d have to wait until someone else can decide.
Perhaps he was telling the truth, or perhaps he was just covering his own ass.
“Hmpf,” she snorted dismissively, waving at him to do so. Nothing else she could object to, not without causing a scene - and that would have been a waste of time. She didn’t actually care where to wait - she only wanted to keep up appearances.
She leaned against one of the gate pillars. Wang Yonghao placed their wooden crate next to her and sat down on it, looking bored. The subtleties of etiquette all went quite firmly over his head.
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At first glance, the courtyard beyond the gates seemed about the same as every day - sweepers working their brooms, outer disciples unloading a cart and a couple inner disciples having a discussion off in a corner - but she could see the sect bustling just beyond it, an edge of the sleeve through the window here, a curious eye there, little noises and echoes of what was happening in the compound.
Like a little anthill someone jammed a stick into. Two sticks, really - her duel, and the return of Jian Wei. She caught the eyes of the inner disciples in the corner, and saw the same as what was on the faces of the guards right next to her. Wariness. Uncertainty. Excitement at new gossip. And a little bit of fear.
Fear?
“What of Jian Shizhe? Had he returned as well?” she asked idly, addressing both and neither of the two guarding disciples. When she left the square he was still unconscious, Rui Bao trying to shake him awake.
“A palanquin had been sent, together with healers,” the outer disciple said tersely. He gave her a dirty look that she pretended to not notice.
“He did look quite exhausted,” she said, turning away from the square. “A good night of sleep will do him some good. Might even cool down that hot head of his.”
“They say you used a demonic technique, to force young master Jian to submit,” the young disciple spoke suddenly, words spilling out like rice out of a damaged bag. “Force him to say he surrendered.”
Wang Yonghao sucked in a sharp breath. The older disciple’s head snapped to glare at the young man, his hand motioning for him to shut up, but far too late. Words couldn’t be taken back, once spoken. Even the young disciple seemed surprised at what he said, his eyes darting around, panicking.
Qian Shanyi’s eyebrows slowly rose, her mood falling sharply. Who pulled this idiot by the tongue, to say such a thing out loud and to her face?
“Is that an accusation, junior?” she spoke coldly, the threat she had to make plain in her voice. “Or some kind of joke?”
Her mind raced ahead to think of a way to keep this idiot child from very elaborately killing himself. He was barely out of the low refinement stage, for mercy’s sake. Her hand fell on the pommel of her sword, her spiritual shield strengthening a fraction.
“N-no, of course not,” the young disciple said, glancing down at her sword and swallowing nervously. Perhaps he just forgot himself for a brief moment. “It’s just what the rumors say -”
“Zhao, silence!” the older outer disciple hissed at him.
“Then those who spread these rumors should pluck their eyes out, for they clearly serve no purpose,” she snorted, and snapped her hand to the side, weaving her rope control technique. A thread uncurled itself from within her pocket, and took the shape of her glove, sticking out of her torso. She waved her hand, and the thread mirrored her motion exactly. “I did no more than simply move his muscles for him.”
She let her spiritual shield wane, leaning back against her column, her hands crossed on her chest, eyelids half closed. As if she considered this incident resolved. She heard the outer disciple exhale all the tension of a moment ago.
Was that “rumor” behind the fear she saw? Best to dispel it right away, then. She had far too much going on around her to afford an investigation, even if she was innocent.
Then again, perhaps the older man was just glad she wasn’t going to challenge this kid to a duel right here.
“They also say -” the young fool continued, mirroring her thoughts, words spilling out of his mouth with absolutely no control. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw true fear in his eyes, before he barely managed to stop himself. Seems he was one of those people who couldn’t stop talking once they felt anxious.
“Zhao!” the outer disciple snapped, whirling on him. In two steps, he was next to the cultivator, grabbing him by the lapels of his robes.
“You should listen to your elders, junior,” she sighed, keeping her tone bored and casual. “Is it not said that silence is the source of all wisdom? But very well, let’s hear it. What else do they say?”
“That -” Zhao coughed slightly, the older disciple slowly letting him down on the ground. “- that you forced him to speak.”
“A tongue is a muscle,” she said dismissively. “You should watch yours. With how much you strain it, you might end up tearing it.”
“Take the pointers the honorable immortal freely gives you to mind,” the older disciple said, still holding one of Zhao’s lapels in his fist. He motioned towards the courtyard. “Now bring us all some tea, before you say something you will regret.”
“But -”
“Now!”
Zhao fled. The older outer disciple turned back to her, wary exhaustion in his eyes. She met his gaze, offering an understanding nod, before looking away again. Perhaps it was Zhao’s first day at this post. With any luck, he’d learn to keep his calm better.
“Rumors are such terrible things,” she said, “I hope I can count on some cooperation in spreading the truth instead? I think this town has had quite enough duels already for the foreseeable future.”
The older disciple bowed deeply to her, some degree of respect appearing in his eyes again. She turned towards the courtyard, and saw an outer disciple hurrying towards them. The same one that was sent to Jian Wei.
“Elder Jian requests honorable cultivator Qian to meet with him at her earliest convenience,” the disciple said with a bow, “I may escort you, if now is a good time?”
Qian Shanyi nodded, squared her shoulders, took their crate from Wang Yonghao, and followed after. Dealing with Zhao felt almost like an appetizer before the real meal. Her tension returned, but different, impatient, like a thunderhorse ready for a race, her sandals clacking against the stone path like steel hooves.
She ran over her plan once again, her assumptions and knowledge, words and tools at her disposal, leads she planted and rhetorical traps she prepared. A lot of moving parts, all interlinked into a singular tower of lies she had been building ever since she first met the Elder of the Northern Scarlet Stream sect.
In the end, it all boiled down to one simple question.
What did Jian Wei want?
----------------------------------------
Jian Wei was feeling better than at any other time in the last six months. His plans were proceeding on schedule, his trip was more than successful and blessedly quick, and nothing was set on fire in his absence. The deal for the telegraph network was going forward, and in fact, might even expand. And just as he returned, that mysterious Qian Shanyi had finally decided to tell him what her deal was.
He had to admit, he was impressed. Back when he first met the woman, her suggestion of a "business proposition" confused him - but she had delivered on those words, and more. It was a two-part deal with her sect, tied together in a clever twist of wording - he could not accept one half without the other.
First, Qian Shanyi was offering him her entire deal with the Nine Singing Vessels sect for the sale of the tribulation materials - worth north of five thousand spirit stones. The Northern Scarlet Stream sect would become the beneficiary, and in exchange, she would purchase a lot of specialized glassware, the pride of his sect. That she did not sell his sect the materials directly was understandable, canny even - and looking at the list of what she requested, they would still profit handsomely from the transaction.
The possibility to sink his claws into the Nine Singing Vessels was, in some sense, even more of a draw. They have been butting heads as of late, and having this deal would mean a degree of access to their shops and warehouses - so that the Northern Scarlet Stream sect could be sure the terms were followed to the letter, of course. A minor shard of control, but not one they would have ever volunteered otherwise - and he’d find a way to leverage it into something larger.
But the second part of the deal was clearly the star of the two. It was a convoluted proposal of mutual cooperation in order to explore ancient ruins, worded in abstract terms. Reading between the lines, she was promising regular deliveries of high-quality weaponry, as long as his sect handled the appraisal and registration, in exchange for the right of first refusal and a portion of the sale price. Fresh swords for the cultivators joining the Northern Scarlet Stream, and for much cheaper than any refining sect would ask for.
It was an open question of whether this Sky Void Island sect could actually deliver on this promise, of course. He had not heard of it before, and having a refinement stage cultivator negotiate on their behalf was unusual. That meant they were either too small, too new, or from too far away - or perhaps even all three. But even if they could not be relied on, the first half of the deal should more than make up for the hassle.
Very clever indeed.
He had the letter in front of him on the table, next to a stack of his notes, actuarial books and lists of market prices for all the goods involved, key passages marked out with a pencil as he was puzzling over the exact risks and benefits of this deal when the woman in question entered the room, led by one of his outer disciples.
She looked different - white robes shining in the rays of the sunlight coming through the open window, hair pinned up into a bun instead of flowing out behind her. In her hands, she carried a long, wooden box - a crate, really - one he raised an eyebrow at.
A gift, perhaps?
But in her eyes was the same ambitious glint as last time. A disappointment, that he couldn’t snag her up for his own sect. If she was the one who came up with that deal - and everything pointed to it - then she’d have been a welcome asset.
Perhaps he’d still find a way to lure her away, if she was going to be the contact point between their two sects in the coming months. She did say that if Wang Yonghao decided to switch his sects, she would follow after - worth a look, if his schedule ever cleared up enough.
"Elder Ever-Dancing Sunlight," Qian Shanyi said, bowing in front of him. Her eyes flickered over the papers on the small tea table in front of him, kettle of tea off to the side on a small burner, keeping it warm. His disciples had long been trained that when he traveled, tea should be prepared as soon as his feet touched the ground of the sect - and so far, they had failed to disappoint him. "I see that you have read my letter."
"Of course," he said, motioning for her to take a seat opposite him, and gestured to the outer disciple to leave them alone. The young man did just that - hurrying out just a bit faster than was necessary.
In the back of his mind, Jian Wei idly noted that it was a third disciple to do so since he returned. Something must have happened while he was away, even if it wasn’t important enough for Liu Yufei to include it in her shortened report.
What little rumors he overheard through his open window suggested that Jian Shizhe had gotten into yet another duel, and he wasn't looking forward to the details. Perhaps it was that. He delayed getting a full briefing until the evening, or meeting with the boy - this positive, productive mood was rare enough these days, and he wanted to at least conclude this deal worth many thousands of spirit stones while it lasted.
Qian Shanyi took her seat, placing the large box at her side. With a bit of idle curiosity, he sent a small burst of spiritual energy through it - and felt three swords within. A first sample, already? His eyebrows rose a small fraction, and he put all thoughts of Jian Shizhe out of his mind.
This was already promising to be a very pleasant haggling session.
"I admit, I have been surprised to see the name of your sect," he said, pouring them both cups of tea. "You have not mentioned it before."
Qian Shanyi shrugged, accepting her cup with a grateful nod. "Our sect had suffered a… catastrophe, some fifteen years back,” she said, her words catching in her throat. “We lost many disciples, and we have yet to recover. My Elder even said that anyone who wanted to leave the sect was welcome to do so, if it would improve their station. Because of our… unique position, we prefer to travel as loose cultivators. Those who would mistreat us would not respect us if they knew our current state either."
A puzzle piece sliding into place.
"Not a local sect then, I take it?" he asked.
"No. We are originally from far in the north, outside the empire, but ever since... We've been traveling freely, all over the place."
Jian Wei nodded. That explained the generous conditions, then. Without a central place to operate from, a sect would struggle to sell whatever they found in the ruins. If it was not even registered, only more so. A proposal for cooperation was only natural.
"There is... One sticking point, I must admit, that must be resolved before we proceed," Qian Shanyi said cautiously, taking a sip of her tea. "I originally planned to discuss our deal a good week later, but circumstances have somewhat forced my hand."
She reached for her wooden box, and lifted it up, offering it to him. She had to rise up on her knees to hold it above the small table between them. "A gift, for our continued cooperation," Qian Shanyi said, “one that, under better circumstances, I wish I could have avoided giving.”
Jian Wei raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and took the box, placing it at his side. He opened the lid, and saw the sword at the top, lying over a pile of hay.
His hand froze, the box lid clattering onto the floor. A second stretched into infinity as his own mind resisted the evidence before his very eyes.
It was Jian Shizhe's sword. He picked it out himself.
Confusion.
Why is it here?
Terror.
What did she do to him?!
Dismay.
He swore to his brother to keep him safe, but in the end, he wasn't there.
Fury.
How dare she?!
He turned his cold eyes on the woman, his spiritual energy swirling all around the room, pressing down on her from all sides. He lost control of it for a brief moment, but really, it was for the best.
He would have an explanation, or he would have her head. He was fine with either.