JIANG XI SAID nothing, and neither did Xue Meng.
After a long silence, Jiang Xi spoke. "Since you already heard everything. I don't have to repeat it," he said, stony-faced.
When Xue Meng made no reply, he spoke again: "Go prepare for their burials according to Sisheng Peak customs." Jiang Xi turned away, refusing to look at Xue Meng a moment longer. "Your mother entrusted her orphan to me. I'll wait for you at the foot of the mountain."
Xue Meng twitched unconsciously. All the hot blood in him seemed to have been sucked away; even moving his fingers took everything he had. He strode into the dim depths of Loyalty Hall. In the firelight, the blood on the carpet was no longer so vivid, but Xue Zhengyong still lay on the ground. Without his ever-present grin, his face looked more aged, his wrinkles more prominent. White dusted the black at his temples, while Jiang Xi still looked less than thirty, forever frozen at the peak of his youth.
Xue Meng took a few more steps, then came to a stop. "You can go."
Jiang Xi turned and saw Xue Meng's lonely silhouette.
"I won't accept you," said Xue Meng. "You're not my father."
He slammed the doors shut. After a moment, Jiang Xi heard the agonizing sound of Xue Meng's hoarse and terrible sobbing coming from inside.
Jiang Xi stood silently in the biting wind until his hands and feet were freezing, then made his way slowly down the mountain.
Most of the cultivators, fearing Phoenix's Inferno, had long left. Only a few of Taxue Palace's disciples remained, Mei Hanxue among them. These juniors ducked their heads and bowed respectfully at the sight of Jiang Xi, murmuring, "Jiang-zhangmen."
Jiang Xi felt the muscles of his face taut with strain. He pursed his lips, looking around until he caught sight of Mei Hanxue. "Still here?"
"Waiting for an old friend," came Mei Hanxue's refined and dispassionate reply.
"He won't be coming down for a while," Jiang Xi replied.
"I'll wait, whether it's an hour or a few days. I've nothing else to do anyway. I'll stay right here." He paused. "Jiang-zhangmen, the palace leader left a message for you."
Frustrated beyond measure yet unable to vent it, Jiang Xi asked in clipped tones, "What is it?"
Mei Hanxue bowed. "The palace leader has elected no longer to obey the godly descendants of Tianyin Pavilion, nor to work with the sects of the upper cultivation realm. As the leader of the great sects, Jiang-zhangmen needn't consider Taxue Palace in future matters requiring consensus."
Jiang Xi's face was unreadable. "So you've decided to stand apart from the sects?"
"It is terrifying indeed to stand alone." While Mei Hanxue's gaze, as ever, held a hint of a smile, fluid and charming, his expression was cool. "But blind obedience to something like the gods is much more terrifying, I think."
Jiang Xi stared at him. He felt inexplicable anger, disdain, frustration. In the past, when Nangong Liu had held this post, Jiang Xi had found his decisions absurd. Yet now that he'd reached the peak himself, he realized many things were out of his control.
Had he truly wanted to punish Mo Ran? Had he intended to blindly obey Tianyin Pavilion? He had tried to persuade the other sects not to march on Sisheng Peak, but they had refused to listen. As their leader, what could he do? In the past, he'd had his own opinions and could lead Guyueye without a care for anyone else's. But now that he stood atop the dais—now that Guyueye was the world's foremost sect—he found he had nowhere left to turn, and no choice but to become the next Nangong Liu.
He closed his eyes and left with a sweep of his sleeves. Mei Hanxue was nothing if not polite; he bowed toward Jiang Xi's retreating back and said lightly, "This one bids Jiang-zhangmen farewell. I hope we shall meet again."
Jiang Xi didn't answer. His robes of gold-patterned green fluttered after him as he walked off without looking back.
When he'd first sat upon the seat at Spiritual Mountain and taken up Nangong Liu's legacy, there'd been nothing but rowdy shouts and applause beneath the dais. He'd been sure he would be different from his predecessor—that he could change everything that rankled him about the sects all by himself. He'd had ambition, passion, and goals of his own.
Only now did he realize the applause he'd heard that day hadn't been a welcome for the arrival of a powerful leader, but a funeral dirge for a once-unfettered soul. From then on, within the vastness of the jianghu and its borderless skies, one might find Sect Leader Jiang, but never again Jiang Xi.
Xue Meng remained on Sisheng Peak after he buried his parents. When the Phoenix's Inferno died down, Mei Hanxue went up the mountain, as ordered, in search of him. He found Xue Meng unconscious in Frostsky Hall and took him back to Kunlun Taxue Palace.
The master of Kunlun Taxue Palace had made it known that any future decisions made among the sects needn't be brought to Kunlun's attention, and that Kunlun would no longer bend to the laws of the cultivation realm. All ties were summarily severed.
Later, Jiang Xi summoned the sects to Spiritual Mountain to discuss the recent matters of great import. He proposed that, instead of relying on the judgment of a singular party, critical cases should undergo three trials before they were settled: first, the court of law; second, the court of the sects; and third, a court of commoners.
He didn't specify whom he meant by a singular party, but everyone knew he was displeased with the role Tianyin Pavilion had played. His suggestion was met with violent rebuttals.
"Tianyin Pavilion was created by the gods—that set of scales used by Pavilion Master Mu during the interrogation was once the God of Justice's own holy weapon. There's nothing fairer than the word of the gods themselves."
"Jiang-zhangmen's recklessness might anger the gods."
The more conservative members, who put all their faith in Tianyin Pavilion and took everything Mu Yanli did as holy writ, somehow had the courage to slam their hands on the table and jump to their feet. "Tianyin Pavilion has been the crown jewel of the cultivation realm for thousands of years—they've cleared the names of so many innocents who were wrongfully accused. Their continued existence ensures villains hesitate to break the law. Jiang-zhangmen, do you wish to stamp out this sacred torch of the cultivation realm?"
"Do you all think Tianyin Pavilion is really so pristine and untouchable, that they can do no wrong?" snapped Jiang Xi.
"Tianyin Pavilion is of divine origin and has stood for thousands of years. Of course it can do no wrong!"
"We cultivate in the hopes of leaving our bodies behind and ascending. If Jiang-zhangmen believes even the heavenly gods can err, why place your faith in cultivation at all?"
This faction was too large, all of them fired up as they spoke in defense of Tianyin Pavilion, left behind by the God of Justice. In the end, though his face went pale with anger, there was nothing Jiang Xi could do. The matter was left unsettled.
But a paper shield could never hide a fire, and the truth would always out. Far from resolving the chaos in the cultivation realm, the scattering of Sisheng Peak seemed to worsen it. A riot started in Sichuan three days later.
The first spark to catch was Wuchang Town. A group of commoners dressed in white mourning clothes traveled to Tianyin Pavilion to make their grievances known.
"When has Sisheng Peak ever stolen children?"
"Where did Tianyin Pavilion find those beasts that spoke against them?! How dare they accuse Sisheng Peak! How can they live with themselves?!"
"Cultivation this, cultivation that—have you been doing it blind this whole time? Wuchang Town sits right at the foot of the mountain. You marched up there for 'justice,' but you didn't dare seek it in our own court? Why did you put together that herd of heartless traitors, those ungrateful cowards, if not to give yourself an excuse—a chance to act on your own cruelty?! You're all murderers!"
"Exonerate Xue-zhangmen!"
Those among the petitioners who'd originally lived in the upper cultivation realm and been rescued during the apocalyptic fire in Linyi wept hardest, their faces masks of fury. "Framing the innocent," they howled. "Scheming and lying—you're not human! You're beasts! Monsters!"
One cultivator couldn't hold his tongue a minute longer. Putting a hand to the hilt of his sword, he shouted, "Enough! Tianyin Pavilion was founded by the gods themselves. How dare you speak this way—aren't you afraid you'll go to hell?"
The crowd fell silent—but it was only a moment before a storyteller took up his paper fan and jabbed it at the doors of Tianyin Pavilion. "Go to hell?" He snorted. "Xianjun, listen up." He cleared his throat and proclaimed for the world to hear, "Tianyin Pavilion is no more than a glorified pigsty!"
Everyone burst into laughter, clapping their hands in delight. One young master said, sighing in admiration, "Xiansheng, in all the years you've been telling tales, this is the most exciting one I've ever heard."
"That's right! Tianyin Pavilion is a glorified pigsty!"
As the shouts rose in wave after wave, the cultivator's face twisted. He couldn't beat them up, nor could he curse them out; he froze, then swept his sleeves and left.
The mob at the gates was composed entirely of commoners with no spiritual energy; Tianyin Pavilion thought nothing of it and let them shout themselves hoarse. Yet they hadn't expected so many to join them from all corners of the land. On the second day, one of the disciples in the pavilion master's inner circle broke and brought the matter up to Mu Yanli.
"Pavilion Master, the square is full of commoners here to speak on behalf of Sisheng Peak. Do you think we ought to say something?"
Mu Yanli's face was expressionless. "There's no need. These people will grow bored after shouting a little and leave on their own."
"But there's already…" the disciple stammered, "a-at least a thousand people at the doors…"
Mu Yanli blinked. "A thousand?"
Pushing herself up from the rosewood chaise, she stepped over plush fur rugs to reach the window, its frame carved with flowers. She looked down: The square in front of Tianyin Pavilion was a sea of white. Dressed in their white hemp mourning clothes, those commoners had gathered—some on their feet shouting curses, others seated quietly on the ground—so determined it seemed they'd be content to grow roots right there before the gates.
A furrow appeared between Mu Yanli's brows. Nearby, the same disciple asked carefully, "It's been two days, but no one has left. The crowd has only grown—people from all the towns and villages of Sichuan have begun to arrive. If this continues, the matter of the false witnesses will get out."
At Mu Yanli's continued silence, the disciple pressed, "Pavilion Master, what should we do?"
Mu Yanli pursed her lips; before she could reply, a voice as smooth as jade rang out from behind her. "Let it."
The bead veil tinkled, and Shi Mei sauntered in. The disciple hastily dipped his head. "Senior Sage."
Mu Yanli turned with a frown. "What are you doing here? I thought you were standing guard over Taxian-jun."
"The core fragments have merged into his heart, but he won't wake for a while yet." Shi Mei went to the window and glanced down. "What a large group. They must have quite a lot of time on their hands."
"Sarcasm, at a time like this?" Mu Yanli's brow was creased with concern. "Right now, all that's keeping them from rioting is the popular faith in Tianyin Pavilion, but who knows how long that will last? There are many fools among the cultivators of the other sects, but they are not all fools. If these commoners keep making a racket, I'm afraid some accident will occur even before Taxian-jun wakes up."
Shi Mei smiled. "Don't worry, Mu-jiejie. Not even the biggest accident could shake Tianyin Pavilion's position."
"What do you mean?"
"Those cultivators pursue their path with the goal of ascending. They can't possibly insult the descendants of gods while here on earth. Honestly, did they really not know whether Sisheng Peak was guilty? Could they really not tell whether or not those witnesses were telling the truth?"
When Mu Yanli didn't answer, Shi Mei continued. "They chose to believe it because they feared Sisheng Peak, and they feared Mo Ran's Zhenlong Chess Formation. They wanted to eliminate this sect, so they put their trust in a mere few dozen testimonies." Shi Mei laid his hands on the windowsill, his voice feather-light. "They knew what they were doing."
"B-but," the disciple responded, "we can't just let these commoners say whatever they want. We have to address it somehow, don't we?"
"That's why I said just let the matter get out."
"What are you saying?" asked Mu Yanli.
"Be more decisive. Chase them off."
"Tianyin Pavilion has never censored frank speech, nor do we turn people away without reason. Dispersing them will draw the sects' condemnation," said Mu Yanli.
Shi Mei didn't care. "Did I not just explain? Deep down, they already know the truth. They're not going to rise up and revolt anytime soon. By the time things come to a head, our Taxian-jun will be awake. I'm sure you know what that means."
Mu Yanli swallowed back what she was about to say, appearing conflicted. She closed her eyes and turned to her disciple. "Send them away."
That loyal disciple left, leaving only Mu Yanli and Shi Mingjing in the room. They stood at the window, side by side, watching the goings-on below.
A row of Tianyin Pavilion disciples filed out, their clothes and crowns of white gold sparkling in the sunlight. When the commoners in their coarse white hemp saw them emerge, they thought they'd finally get an explanation. Those who were sitting rose to their feet, and they clustered around the disciples.
Though they were too far away to hear what the disciples said, Shi Mei and Mu Yanli had a clear view of the fury that appeared on the listener's faces. Suddenly, one of them grabbed a disciple and slapped them soundly across the face.
Chaos broke out below.
Mu Yanli's eyes widened. The tide of people pushed and shoved, raining blows upon the dozen or so disciples caught in their midst. How could this be allowed to continue? Mu Yanli was stoic, yes, but not so much that she'd watch her own disciples beaten and reviled in public without lifting a hand. She moved to open the window and call out to the disciples that they could use magic for self-defense, but found her hand caught in a firm grip.
"Let them fight," said Shi Mei.
"Tianyin Pavilion prohibits cultivators from striking back at commoners unless given explicit permission. Any fight is a risk—if I let this go on, their lives may be in danger."
"Let one die," said Shi Mei peaceably.
Mu Yanli stared in shock.
Fury would strip people of their rationality, especially a mob this large ganging up on a lesser party. They wouldn't hold themselves back.
Very soon, Mu Yanli saw the crowd freeze. They slowly parted around one of Tianyin Pavilion's newest disciples—so new Mu Yanli couldn't remember the man's name. He lay on the ground in an ever-growing pool of blood.
Shi Mei released Mu Yanli's hand. "Look, now you have an excuse to stamp out these ants. Strike away."
The hardest thing about crushing resistance was finding an appropriate excuse. Once the excuse was found, violence and oppression became as easy as breathing.
The doors of Tianyin Pavilion crashed open and disciples poured out, all of them armed and shielded as they charged toward the defenseless commoners. The square descended instantly into madness. The disciples cut through the mob, dividing the crowd up before bringing their swords down for the slaughter. Shouts of condemnation, screams, and furious howling all melded into one cacophonous roar. The commoners ran, shouted, and attempted to band together for protection, but none turned to flee.
"Cease this at once," a disciple bellowed, "or don't accuse Tianyin Pavilion of being heartless!"
"When has Tianyin Pavilion ever possessed a heart?" An old man's quavering voice cut through the noise of the crowd. The chief of Yuliang Village had come too. "This old man came here for justice. Even if I die here today, I won't regret it!"
The village girl Ling-er was enraged and heartbroken. She stood with all her relatives from the village, refusing to fall back so much as a step. "Kill us all then! Will you dare kill everyone in Sichuan to silence us?!"
Tianyin Pavilion's best fighter, leading the disciples' charge, clenched his jaw. "A herd of ingrates lining up to die." Those behind him closed their ranks, hands sparking with spells.
Yet before they could hurl them, an arrow screamed through the air, slamming into the ground with a burst golden light. A brilliant yellow barrier shimmered into existence between the two sides.
"Who the hell—?!" the Tianyin fighter snarled.
A beam of white light shot upward, piercing the clouds in a blink and streaking up through the heavens. Within this tremendous flow of spiritual energy, a dashing young cultivator leapt down from the sky and stood icily in front of the Sichuan commoners with her bow held before her, wreathed in wind and smoke. Behind her, a faewolf the height of two men stood facing the wind, white of fur and gold of claw, eyes scarlet as he bared his teeth and growled.
Shi Mei narrowed his eyes. "Ye Wangxi…"
Ye Wangxi quickly put aside her bow and summoned her sword. She stood alone, whipped by the wind, her beautiful eyes fierce and determined.
"You again?!" Someone from Tianyin Pavilion recognized her and glared. "Leftover scum of Rufeng Sect."
Without a word, Ye Wangxi took a step forward.
"I knew you were trouble when you insisted on bringing Mo Ran water!" the Tianyin Pavilion disciple continued. "You were on Mo Ran's side the whole time! Just another villain!"
Ye Wangxi's sword sang from its sheath like flowing water. She narrowed her eyes. "I believe we both know who the real villain is. But there is one thing you were right about." She paused. "Ye Wangxi stands with Mo-zongshi."
That disciple scoffed. "Ye Wangxi, don't tell me a woman like you wants to fight us on your own?"
She was already furious about what had happened to Sisheng Peak; flames leapt from her eyes as she slammed her sword down in front of her. That overpowering spiritual energy plunged the sword—not a holy weapon, but merely an ordinary blade—deep into the stone, a long crack snaking out across the ground. She gritted her teeth. "I've had it with the lot of you. Stop saying woman this and woman that all the damn time!"
Ye Wangxi had almost always been humble and conciliatory in front of the cultivation world. This was the first time anyone had ever seen her rage.
"Listen up." Every inch of Ye Wangxi's body was wound tight. She stared at those men like a hunting panther, yielding not an inch. "Sisheng Peak treated Rufeng Sect with dignity in our darkest hour and brought the people of Linyi safely out of the inferno. Now, even if Sisheng Peak is gone, as long as Ye Wangxi lives, these people will come to no harm!"
No one in Tianyin Pavilion had fought Ye Wangxi before; they had no idea of her true strength. Thinking her nothing more than a teary-eyed maiden clinging to her young master's sleeve, they scoffed. "Little girl, do you know what you're saying? You want to protect that flock of balding chickens by yourself? You really think you're something special—but do you have the skills to back it up?"
"Find out for yourself!"
She threw the sheath in her hand aside, metal flashing like frost. Ye Wangxi said no more: With a snap of her fingers and a long-legged leap, she landed astride the faewolf, as light as a swallow in flight. Leaning down, she wrenched her naked blade from the ground and charged at the disdainful Tianyin Pavilion cultivators.
At the window, Shi Mei placidly looked down at the chaos below, his pale lips parting as he snorted. "I never thought I'd get to see the goddess of war from the past life again. To think she'd still be forced down this path after everything."
"Goddess of war?"
Shi Mei was silent a moment, looking down on Ye Wangxi with both pity and scorn. "Jiejie, look. In life, you might experience all sorts of twists and turns. You might set out in a hundred different directions, but you always end up at the same place. Who she was in the past life is not something she'll be able to escape in this one."
Blood sprayed and sparks flew. The cries of slaughter soared into the skies; Ye Wangxi fought alone, weaving between clashing sword glares, keeping the crowd of commoners shielded behind her barrier.
This woman was clad in black martial robes, her waist slender and her legs long. When she wielded her sword, she was Ye Wangxi. But Naobaijin fought seamlessly by her side, and Madam Rong's embroidered quiver swayed at her belt. When she drew her bow, she was also Nangong Si.
She'd experienced much more in this life than the last. She'd been helpless and lost, yet she'd also had those fleeting moments when the storm clouds had cleared. The evening Nangong Si gave her the jade pendant atop Naihe Bridge, the sunset had been beautiful. She'd thought she could put down her sword and become once more the gentle girl who could cry and laugh as she liked.
But Nangong Si had died. He went without warning, and before he did, he told Ye Wangxi as she stayed behind to hold off their enemies, It's too dark here; I know you don't like it. I'll come back as soon as I can. But he never did.
Just as she had in the past life, Ye Wangxi lost her weakness, and also her armor. She slowly absorbed what remained of those tender feelings and gradually accepted this lonely, grieving version of herself. In her heart, she silently gave herself two funerals. Elder Xu's death had taken Little Ye-zi with him. With her own hands, she buried her yifu and those days of sunny youth. Nangong Si's death had taken Miss Ye to the grave. She personally snuffed out the lantern that'd burned through rainy nights.6
The god of war sealed the grave of the girl and of the woman. She'd returned to Tianyin Pavilion as a lone fighter, to battle the cultivators with her sword in hand.
Shi Mei looked down at the fray, then turned to Mu Yanli. "Send all of Tianyin Pavilion's best disciples out to meet her. This woman cannot be allowed to live."
Mu Yanli looked back at him in shock. "All of them? Sh-she's only one girl…"
"This one girl gave even Taxian-jun no end of trouble." Shi Mei smiled. "If you underestimate her now, you'll come to see her strength in the future."
The gates opened again, and the high-level disciples of Tianyin Pavilion streamed out. Ye Wangxi fought them off while maintaining the barrier at her back. The green crane ribbon of Rufeng Sect fluttered as she darted in and out. Mu Yanli had ordered her death, and so the disciples sought to kill her with every blow. One person couldn't possibly fight off such a horde, but Ye Wangxi gritted her teeth and refused to bow. With Naobaijin at her side, they weren't yet overpowered.
"Send more." Shi Mei looked down upon the scene as if watching fish in a pond. Scanning the battle below, he spoke placidly. "As many as you have to. Since she's come all this way, she won't be leaving here alive—"
"A-Nan, over there!" Mu Yanli cut him off.
Shi Mei's gaze followed hers to the horizon, where a cloud of silver and blue was thickening into a wide band across the sky.
The elders and disciples of Sisheng Peak had come.
The men and women Madam Wang had saved still wore the armor of Sisheng Peak, riding their gleaming silver swords as they swept in from the far reaches of the sky in a great mass. At their head were the Tanlang and Xuanji Elders, robes flaring in the wind like a scene from a painting. Behind them, hundreds of disciples bore down on Tianyin Pavilion in fury, their armor flashing in the sun.
"Is this how the so-called descendants of gods treat the weak and vulnerable?" the Xuanji Elder shouted.
The Tanlang Elder had a darker, more volatile temper. Keeping his brown eyes fixed on the scene beneath them, he didn't bother with quips or pleasantries. Three words expressed everything, his fury made manifest: "Go to hell!"
Faced with these ferocious soldiers surging in like the roaring tide, Shi Mei's expression darkened. The sharp curve of his lips could've been a smile, or a sneer. "What blighted fate. Every great battle must first start with a duel with Sisheng Peak's people."
He scanned the incoming wave of cultivators. Chu Wanning wasn't among their number. Where had he and Mo Ran gone after he'd appeared on the sentencing grounds of Tianyin Pavilion? Mo Ran's heart had been gouged too many times; it was unlikely he'd survived. But what of Chu Wanning? Was he standing vigil over Mo Ran's freshly dug grave? Or had he decided to reenact the past life by dying with him?
Either option irritated Shi Mei. A faint unease stirred in his heart, and he turned from the window.
"Where are you going?" asked Mu Yanli, worried.
"To check on Taxian-jun." Shi Mei paused. "I'll think of something to help him wake faster. Once he's awake, the Space-Time Gate of Life and Death will open once more. Then no one will be able to stop us."
Slender fingers brushed over the Tianyin Pavilion talisman on the door. The entrance to the secret chamber rumbled open, and Shi Mei took the long steps down along the pathway carved with ancient sigils, through three entrance barriers, and at last arrived in the depths of a stone room.
A thin layer of ice crunched beneath his feet, and fog drifted through the air. A piece of jade inlaid on the blue-gray ceiling gave off a pristine glow. Beneath it, a freezing crystal coffin lay. Shi Mei came to a stop beside it, bending to study the man within.
"Taxian-jun, Mo Weiyu…" he murmured, eyes fixed on the light array on the man's chest. "You've slept for so long—isn't it time you awoke?"
There was no reaction from the man in the coffin. Taxian-jun lay with his eyes closed and his lips bloodless.
"Your spiritual flow is unstable." Shi Mei placed his hand on Taxian-jun's brow, scanning it carefully. He stared, thoughtful, at that handsome face. "Having a bad dream?"
The sleeping man naturally supplied no answer.
Eyes gentle, Shi Mei brushed a wisp of hair from Taxian-jun's forehead. It was like he was gazing upon a godly weapon, soon to be complete. "It might be your own spiritual core, but such things are bound up with the heart. I'm sure the merging can't be comfortable."
His whisper was enchanted, hypnotic. "Taxian-jun, don't believe anything you see in your dream. It's all fake… Come, wake up. Once you're awake, you'll have everything."
Shi Mei bent lower, his lips almost brushing the sleeping man's ear, voice sibilant and syrupy. "Be it Shi Mingjing, Chu Wanning—even your dead mother…they'll all come back. Wake up," he breathed to the sleeping emperor. "I'm waiting."