“Some onlookers may think my actions whimsical,” Yao Shen finally spoke, banishing the cloud of silence that was suffocating the room. “But those present today, as respected Elders and my fellow Patriarchs, know better. A Patriarch does not make a move without tethering the interests of his Sect to his action,” Yao Shen’s words were spoken with a sincerity to them. From the insipid reactions of the other cultivators, that assumption seemed to be a given.
Yao Shen had been a known quantity for decades, and a rising star of the Heavenly Sky Sect for much longer than that— it was far easier to believe that his actions now were part of a long-running ploy rather than his personality changing overnight.
“When I first arrived at the Flame Division, Patriarch Lei Weiyuan graciously offered me a tour of the Sect. Most, if not all of you are aware that I first chose to visit the Sparring Stage. A rather vexing choice, wouldn’t you agree?” Yao Shen asked rhetorically.
“The reason is quite elementary. Once, I too was a disciple of the outer sect. Having seen through that paradigm, I know that it is the quickest way for a glory seeking disciple to achieve fame and reknown,” Yao Shen elaborated.
“There, I found exactly what I was seeking,” he said. “A young outer sect disciple facing a scion of the legacy families.”
“In his right hand, he brandished a dull blade whose edge was marred down by the ravages of time. In his mind, the blade techniques offered by the Flame Division were not enough, so he fashioned his own technique by borrowing from inspiration from a dozen others. In his heart, he carried the bitterness and resentment of a dying old man, instead of the spark and vitality of youth,” Yao Shen shook his head, before continuing, “My intention is not to blame the Flame Division. Patriarch Kang Long, I asked you what your Anchors were,” Yao Shen gazed at him.
He nodded back.
“So it is only apt that I reveal my own. The reason I cultivate, the reason I became the former Patriarch of the Sky Division, is partly due to the kindness my Master offered me by taking me as his disciple. Whether it was cultivation resources or techniques he had pioneered through years, perhaps decades of experimentation, he held nothing back. His will to see the Sky Division prosper passed down onto me, so I strived to assume the mantle of Patriarch. Soon, I had disciples to teach, duties to fulfill and my own sect to protect from the machinations of the demons and for that reason, I could not stop in my pursuit of strength. Even if that risked losing it all,” Yao Shen’s tone was calm, relaxed, as if he saw a greater truth the others in the room could not yet comprehend.
“But what do they have? What reason do they have to fight, but fear? Hopelessness? Despair? I do not blame the Flame Division, for I am certain that this is not an isolated case. No, I blame us all, for in our avarice we have forgotten what it means to be righteous. I blame myself the most, for I chose to overlook these issues when I lacked the strength to enforce the change,” Yao Shen’s tone remained placid, concealing the self-deprication he felt in that moment.
He had never claimed to be a saint, but that did not mean that he could not acknowledge his past inaction.
“Then Grand Patriarch…,” Meili Zhu spoke up, her tone thoughtful. “What do you propose?”
All eyes landed on Yao Shen.
Yao Shen inwardly smiled, thanking Meili Zhu for her astuteness.
He withdrew a solitary sheet of papyrus from his spatial ring, placing it upon the table. It was a map of the Azlak Plains. The West was dominated by the behemoth that Nayun Forest was, the North occupied by the Labyrinth of the Ancient Chen Clan, the furthest reaches of the South concealing the enigma that the aptly named the ‘Gorge of Death.’ The Eastern border was protected by the Grand Sealing Formation, dotted by a few mortal villages that were situated at the eastern corner of the Azlak Plains.
Many such villages were situated in the central region of the Azlak Plains, which comprised the territory of the three hegemonic sects.
“Would any of you like to point out the simplest way to defend the territory of the Modern Sect?” Yao Shen asked, the previous gravitas in his voice replaced by a growing enthusiasm.
The Elders exchanged nervous glances.
Yao Shen chuckled.
“Of course, you all already know what it is,” Yao Shen said, a piece of sharpened charcoal held in his hand.
“Yet, it has taken us hundreds of years of conflict and the birth of a Soul Emperor for me to do this,” Yao Shen’s voice spiked, his words echoing with power.
Charcoal brushed against papyrus as Yao Shen extended a line from the Sky Division to the Flame Division that was relatively situated towards the north east. Using the Flame Division as a vertice, Yao Shen stretched out another line upward, connecting the Flame Division to the Earth Divison. Finally, a final stroke of charcoal slashed downwards, connecting the Earth Division to the Sky Division. Using the three divisions as vertices, a triangular perimeter was formed.
“This is the reason why I united the three divisions,” Yao Shen revealed, to a slightly shaken audience.
“But.. Grand Patriarch, there is no way we can possibly oversee such a large territory”, One of the Elders protested.
“That is indeed one of the challenges,” Yao Shen replied, having expected the rebuttal. “It is true, that we cannot afford a large scale protective formation on this scale. However, we do not necessarily need one. Each of the Divisons have their own robust defenses, so for our purposes a large scale detection formation would be far more efficient and cost-effective.”
“But… why?” The Elder asked, and many around him echoed that statement. Why take such measures if there was nothing to protect in the center? They knew, Yao Shen’s real purpose would be revealed soon.
“I wish to build a city. A city unlike no other on Ionea, no, dare I say, all of Eliria itself. A city that defies all cultural and social norms, a city that will unite the Modern Sect. A city that the cultivators of the three divisions will fight for, one they will defend to their dying breath— and they will do so with a smile on their faces. I call it, The Mortal Capital, All Haven.”
His words received exactly the reaction one would expect from a group of cultivators. Confusion. Skepticism. Mistrust.
Yao Shen withdrew a sheaf of papyrus from his spatial ring, slamming it on the desk.
“A city where mortals and cultivators will be considered equal,” Yao Shen said, as he plucked out a sheet of papyrus from the sheaf and placed it in the center of the table.
“This is the first innovation. I call it an ‘Apartment’.”