~~~
Only four contestants remain in the Crimson Cloud Tournament: one from the Divine Frozen Palace, one from the Infinite Mountain Sect, two from the Eternal Flame Clan.
None from the Endlessly Raging Valley.
“I thought you would be displeased,” Ruan Chenshu says, looking at the Wandering Wind. Though most people have begun drifting out of the arena, the Wandering Wind remains in her seat. She stares at the molten ring with a pensive look, her cheek resting against her palm.
“Should I be?” the Wandering Wind asks.
“Your disciple lost,” Ruan Chenshu points out.
It is the sort of thing he usually wouldn’t dare utter. To interact with the Wandering Wind in any way means leaving himself open to whatever whim catches her fancy. Any other day, Ruan Chenshu would have been the first to leave.
However, this tournament has already been a disaster in various ways. What is one more?
“She did.” The Wandering Wind yawns into her hand. “I expected her to. A pity.”
Ruan Leji stares at her.
He wants to ask—demand—an explanation. Elder Ruan Haoran will surely demand one from him before the day is over. No one was happy when the Wandering Wind took an outsider as a disciple, but expectations were still placed on that girl. It could be no other way. Ultimately, the Endlessly Raging Valley is a place where people hopelessly look for someone to pin their expectations on.
That is what the Wandering Wind turned it into.
When she upended the Endlessly Raging Valley, the Wandering Wind irrevocably triggered the search for the one who would succeed her. A whimsical woman who wouldn’t think twice about leaving them forever if the mood struck her could not possibly be their leader. Someone else was needed. Someone who could one day ascend to the Divine Realms and lead the Sect to a bright future. That became the standard to which every single disciple was held subject to.
In many ways, that sort of thinking has done them much harm. Disciples who would have been greatly valued in the past suddenly seemed ordinary. Why bother putting all their resources on them if they were never going to become what they needed? Talents like Ruan Leji suffered greatly as a result.
That is why, when the Wandering Wind chose a disciple, alarming as it might have been for some, there had been hope.
At last, a successor.
At last, a guiding light.
How could she fall before reaching the Top Four? The Elders are going to be furious.
“The Elders were foolish to place any hopes on her,” the Wandering Wind says. It is such a perfect reply to his thoughts that Ruan Chenshu takes a step back. “Just as they were foolish to place their hopes on me once upon a time. I suppose that is the only thing that pack of old fools can do, shamelessly thrust their expectations on others without realizing this is not about them.”
She stands up.
Ruan Chenshu takes another step back.
“She lacked the resolve to stand on that stage. I always knew that,” the Wandering Wind says. “You would have noticed the same had you bothered to pay attention. All of you threatened, bribed, and cajoled your disciples into doing their best while neglecting to realize the most basic thing: True resolve cannot be faked. The motive does not matter, but the thirst—the want—it needs to be born from within. That stage belongs only to those with the resolve to stand on it. That is what is proper.”
Ruan Chenshu does not say anything as the Wandering Wind leaves. He merely stares at the molten ring. Minutes pass before a smile forms on his face.
“I do believe you are right.”
~~~
Several miles away from Imperial Cloud City and its glorious arena, a group of twenty people moves unseen across the vast plain. They hide within the earth, below the shades of the trees, and even under the shadow of a passing cloud. They wear no emblems and hold no weapons. There is not a single thing that can be used to link them together.
They are the Hidden Hand.
Officially, they do not exist. No group by that name has ever joined the Crimson Cloud Tournament or any other competition in the Crimson Cloud Empire. No Sect will ever claim to have had dealings with them, and few people have even heard of the name. Those who have largely dismiss it as an old tale told to scare children.
And yet, sometimes, very rarely, an envelope will be sent to a group that does not exist.
People die soon after.
Like so many other times before, the Hidden Hand has been summoned. A target has been named. A mission has been given. It will not be long until they are in Imperial Cloud City to carry it out. None escape the Hidden Hand. That is how it has been for centuries.
Light falls from the sky.
It happens so unexpectedly, so suddenly, that the members of the Hidden Hand cannot react in time. The attack falls on them with fulminating intensity, the very wrath of Heaven made manifest. Due to the timing of the event, most people dismiss the sudden rumblings felt for several miles as an aftereffect of the Crimson Cloud Tournament.
Nine members of the Hidden Hand die in an instant. The others are left dazed, but training takes over quickly. Their bodies begin moving. Their eyes assess the area for threats. They have been raised to be some of the deadliest assassins in the Empire.
Unfortunately, as soon as an assassin is exposed, the battle is lost.
Another blast of light comes down from above. The assassins dodge, but in doing so, they enter the ambush waiting for them. A large man falls between them like a boulder, his weight cracking the ground and sending them flying. An ashen-haired man moves in. His hand, glowing with heat, slices the air.
By the time the assassins hit the ground, they are already dead.
“That was pathetic!” says a red-haired woman as she floats down from above the clouds. She cast a disdainful look at the dead men. “These are supposed to be the best assassins in the Empire? No wonder we have so many useless people!”
Her name is Shi Qingxia, once a traitorous member of the Eternal Flame Clan, now a maid of the Storm Dragon Palace.
This tale has been pilfered from NovelFire. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“The Hidden Hand is not to be underestimated,” says the ashen-haired man. He is Yong Zhunyi, another former disciple of the Eternal Flame Clan turned servant of the Storm Dragon Palace. “Their services have been used by many prestigious Sects to eliminate countless targets.”
Shi Qingxia raises an eyebrow and waves a hand at the corpses.
“Admittedly, this is not the type of mission they normally undertake,” Yong Zhunyi adds. Only a keen observer would notice the hint of red on his cheeks. “They are a tool for the Four Great Sects to interfere with those beneath them. A conflict of this scale exposes them far too much.”
“You’re just saying they’re useless with more words!” Shi Qingxia says, huffing and crossing her arms. She kicks one of the corpses for good measure.
“There is a point to Senior Brother Yong’s words,” says Ye Zheyu, the third member of their group. His voluminous figure makes him stand out from the others. “The Hidden Hand would not usually be called for this. Their presence shows how urgent the situation has become.”
“What it shows is how many worthless groups there are in the Empire. It gives those self-righteous idiots up high too many ways to meddle with others!” Shi Qingxia shakes her head in exasperation. “The Hidden Hand, the Veiled Knife, the Secret Gravekeepers, the White Owls! How many has it been already?”
“Ten, perhaps?” Ye Zheyu says, counting with his fingers.
“Eighteen,” Yong Zhunyi corrects.
Ye Zheyu blinks. He counts in his head again, before turning to Yong Zhunyi. “Truly?”
“A few of the ones we killed were disguised as their competitors,” Yong Zhuyi explains, kneeling down next to a corpse and rummaging through its pockets. “There is always demand for good assassins, and many are those who rush to fill it. Most of these people were born into their profession. Raised to be knives in the dark and little else. You should have realized that.”
Shi Qingxia frowns but says nothing.
Over the past few days, the three of them have been intercepting various messages going in and out of Imperial Cloud City, as well as removing the numerous mercenaries and assassins called to the city. Their goal is not to completely stop the flow of information. Such would be impossible. The Four Great Sects and many of those below them have various means to send messages without the need for unreliable messengers.
Instead, they seek to slow things down. Not a single one of the messages or assassins they have stopped is individually a threat, but why allow them the opportunity to overly complicate things?
So far, this job of theirs has led to the acquisition of some interesting correspondence, which is precisely what Qing Jin hoped for. The better they understand how far the influence of those on the other side extends, the better. Unfortunately, unlike the messages, the assassins have proven to be a poor source of information. A few even had techniques placed on them that killed them the second they began to think of betraying their masters. That is why they are no longer trying to capture them alive.
It is far easier to kill them and be done with it.
“I want this to be over already,” Shi Qingxia says. “The sooner we are back home, the better. This place has always been rotten.”
“Home, is it?” Yong Zhunyi notes. “You have grown quite fond of the Storm Dragon Empire.”
“What makes you think that?”
Yong Zhuyi and Ye Zheyu look at each other, then back at Shi Qingxia.
“Sister Qingxia,” Ye Zheyu says. “You cannot deny that… Well…”
He waves a hand at her clothes.
Unlike the two of them, Shi Qingxia has yet to change out of her maid outfit. Other people would have been embarrassed, but Shi Qingxia looked at them without flinching.
“What of it?”
“It is hardly a proper outfit for combat,” Yong Zhunyi notes.
“It is the most appropriate outfit,” she protests.
“How?” Yong Zhunyi asks, even though he knows it is exactly what she wants him to ask.
Sure enough, a smirk spread across Shi Qingxia.
“Because,” she says proudly, “I take out the trash.”
~~~
The Eternal Flame Clan is celebrating.
With two of their members still in the tournament, their participation in the finals is essentially assured. Even if, for some outlandish reason, they fail to reach that stage, it will still be a considerable improvement compared to their performance during the last tournament.
This time, they were not the first of the Four Great Sects to be eliminated. That particular honor went to the Endlessly Raging Valley. Lord Feng Gui made sure to send them a heartfelt letter expressing his sympathies which he is certain will go unread. A pity, he was quite inspired while writing it. Nevertheless, such a small detail cannot dampen his mood.
Even his son’s defeat is ultimately a small matter. Lord Feng Gui never once expected Feng Zhi to defeat Emperor Qing Jin. If anything, that the tournament helped his son finally grasp his Dao is already enough of a boon. It is not quite the path Lord Feng Gui envisioned for him, but Feng Zhi has finally found his value.
Lord Feng Gui smiles when he hears the cheers coming from downstairs. His niece, it seems, is the woman of the hour. Annoying as it is for Feng Shang’s progeny to have surpassed his own on this occasion, Lord Feng Gui cannot deny that it has brought its fair share of amusing events.
His smile turns into a smirk when he senses two presences meet. In contrast to the festive mood around the mansion, there is not a single positive emotion in their aura.
It is, without a doubt, amusing.
~~~
Lord Feng Shang and Lady Feng look at each other in silence. In every other part of the estate, there is noise, music, and laughter, yet none of it seems to reach them. Husband and wife are so still that they could be confused with statues. Small flames dance merrily on the ceiling, but they fail to bring even the slightest warmth to their room.
“You cheered for her,” Lady Feng says at last. The simple statement somehow manages to sound like the harshest condemnation.
“Do you think me so cruel that I would refrain from being happy for my daughter?”
“Don’t call her that!” Lady Feng says, her Qi rising along with her temper. “She’s not your daughter! She is… An indiscretion! A mistake!”
The look on Lord Feng Shang’s face strikes fear in Lady Feng’s heart, but it is gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by tired regret.
“I cannot pretend she is not my daughter,” Lord Feng Shang tells her softly. “It is true I made a mistake, but that is exactly why it would not be fair to punish her for it.”
“What about me, then?” Lady Feng asks. “What about our son? Is it fair to punish us by acknowledging her so blatantly? Must you shame us so?”
“Feng Zhuo does not care. You know this,” Feng Shang says. Lady Feng grimaces, unable to deny the truth of the statement. “It is clear he loves his sister.”
“Don’t!” Lady Feng hisses. “Do not put them on the same level.”
“Is that what this is about?” Feng Shang asks her. “Do you fear she will take Feng Zhuo’s place? That is impossible. Feng Zhuo’s future in the Eternal Flame Clan is already assured. She will never take anything away from him.”
Lady Feng laughs harshly.
“Of course she won’t. You let that girl have an Empire! What need does she have for more?” Lady Feng shouts, throwing her arms up. “Now, you’re protecting her! Acknowledging her in front of everyone without caring about how it reflects on us!”
“I know I have wronged you-”
“You keep wronging me!” Lady Feng says. “Do you think I don’t know where you went last night? Do you think me that foolish? No, you know. You just did not care. Year after year, you have gone on that pilgrimage of yours, and I have turned a blind eye to it. Demeaning as it was, I could bear with it because you are exemplary on all other matters.”
She does not need to say anything. The truth of Lord Feng Shang’s actions can no longer be ignored. She cannot pretend she has the ideal husband anymore.
“I cannot undo my acts,” Lord Feng Shang. “However, I also cannot neglect my daughter.”
“Even if you shame me?”
“Even if,” Lord Feng Shang replies.
“For the daughter of a whore?!” Lady Feng asks, her voice hoarse and unshed tears shining in her eyes. “I checked, you know? I wanted to know if there was the slightest possibility she could be that woman’s daughter. But she wasn’t. She’s just an accident. Is it because you look at her and wonder what could have been?”
Lord Feng Shang sighs.
“I will not deny I have thought about it, but that is not the reason,” Lord Feng Shang says. “I simply could not allow that girl to suffer for my mistakes. That is my will. I will not ask your forgiveness for the hurt it will bring you. I know I do not deserve it. I only ask that you do not aim that enmity at the girl. You know she is not the one who should be the target of your ire.”
He speaks sensibly. Like he always does.
In almost all things, he is exceedingly proper. It is just one flaw that tarnishes him.
And that is precisely why he can never be the target of Lady Feng’s ire.
~~~