“Life is strange that way,” Ji Bingxue said. “People believe what they want to believe, despite the many contradictions all around them. Men cling to disproved religions, but others refuse to believe miracles before their very eyes. Men spout lies like the truth they believe from the bottom of their hearts. Traditions are sacrosanct, while values are thrown to the wayside. Then, these same traditions are done away with at the slightest inconvenience, traded for something of poorer value than what was tossed away in the first place.”
Truth be told, the story made little sense to Hong Xin. Still, if only for her friendship with Ji Bingxue, she relaxed her mind and tried to break down any barriers she had to the story. Knowing how and when to control your emotions, after all, was what she’d learned here. If she could dissect what Ji Bingxue was trying to communicate, she might at least be able to understand what the other woman was trying to convey, even if she didn’t agree with it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Hong Xin yelled a little too loudly. A trainee mistress opened the door looking frightened. “Well? Out with it.”
“Mistress Bai Ling asks that both Headmistress Hong and Mistress Ji Bingxue make their way to the first private room,” the woman said, looking down as she spoke.
Hong Xin and Ji Bingxue exchanged troubled glances. Usually Bai Ling would come see them personally. Furthermore, the first private room was reserved for their most important guests. Had someone powerful arrived who they needed to greet immediately? She could hardly think of who it could be.
“Thank you for informing us,” Hong Xin said. She and Ji Bingxue left their cups and strode out the door, leaving the intimidated junior behind. Just what are they teaching these girls? Hong Xin thought. She’d have thought they’d be more mentally resilient than this. They rounded several corridors and entered a room where four of their guards stood at attention. They opened the door for them.
Hong Xin and Ji Bingxue walked in, and to their surprise, they saw no important personage or powerful person. Instead, they saw a woman in blue seated at the table. Bai Ling and Mistress Huang sat beside her. Bai Ling was inspecting the woman with her limited healing abilities with a frown on her face, and Mistress Huang looked pensive.
“Leave us,” she told the guards, who nodded and closed the door behind them.
“What might be the problem?” Hong Xin asked, taking a seat.
“She came here asking to join our pavilion,” Bai Ling said. “She wishes to break away from the Icy Heart Pavilion. She refused to speak until you came.”
“Oh?” Hong Xin asked. “Whatever for?”
They’d never been approached by any of the pavilion’s members before. After all, women there kept icy hearts and cool minds. They were cold, calculative. They did nothing without a reason.
“I am known as Mistress Mi,” the woman said.
Truth, Hong Xin thought out of habit.
“I’ve come here because I fear for my life.”
Also truth.
“And would you not be safer among your people?” Mistress Huang asked. “Would they not have more incentive to protect you than we, of a different faction, would?”
“I do not know,” Mistress Mi said. “All I know is that I am not safe there.”
Truth.
“What made you decide to come here?” Bai Ling asked.
“I decided myself,” Mistress Mi answered.
Truth.
“Might I take over the questioning?” Hong Xin asked.
Bai Ling nodded. Though Bai Ling was an effective tactician and a bright mind, she didn’t have command over others’ emotions like Hong Xin did.
“Tell me,” she said, looking back to Mistress Mi. “Was there an event that made you decide to come here?”
“Yes,” Mistress Mi said.
Truth.
“What happened?” Hong Xin asked. She used her power of kindling to motivate her to speak and used dousing to calm her fears.
“I am hesitant to speak much of it,” Mistress Mi said.
Truth. Though Hong Xin could tell she was dancing around in circles.
“Were you threatened?” Hong Xin probed.
“No,” Mistress Mi affirmed.
Truth.
“You were attacked?” Hong Xin asked.
Mistress Mi nodded slowly, her impassive mask melting ever so slightly. “It was a spectral assassin,” she whispered.
Truth. Fear.
“I and three sisters were able to fight him off, though barely.”
Truth.
“I came here because I heard the Red Dust Pavilion is safe from Spectral Assassins. That you take in women like us.”
Truth.
“Spectral Assassins,” Mistress Huang muttered. “Why is it always those Spectral Assassins?”
“We were wondering why their activities had quieted down,” Bai Ling said, tapping her fingers on the table. “Maybe it had something to do with the Icy Heart Pavilion?”
“Are you aware of any wrongdoing that the Icy Heart Pavilion may have committed that would cause the Spectral Assassins to attack you?” Hong Xin asked, carefully wording her question. She would probe further based on how evasive the answer was.
“I am unaware of any such things,” Mistress Mi said, much more clearly than expected. “I have neither participated in such acts, nor have I ever done business with the Spirit Temple. I have never broken a law, though I may have bent some less important rules. I have never slaughtered innocents.”
“All of these things are true,” Hong Xin said. She looked to Bai Ling. “What do you think?”
Bai Ling shrugged. “I say we take her in. If she’s telling the truth, and Spectral Assassins are after her, she won’t last a night on her own.”
“I am willing to swear your oaths of obedience,” Mistress Mi said, bowing her head. She shivered visibly.
Both Ji Bingxue and Bai Ling looked to Hong Xin, awaiting her answer. Mistress Huang simply averted her eyes. She always followed Hong Xin’s lead regardless of the situation.
Hong Xin took a deep breath. Perhaps Bai Ling was right. Perhaps she was judging these women too harshly. They just had tools, but that didn’t mean they had to use them to inflict suffering on others. The original mistresses they’d captured in their old school had deserved their fate, and the others had been captured out of necessity. But was there a need to do so here? Wouldn’t that make her no better than the headmistress before her?
“That won’t be necessary,” Hong Xin said finally. “I can taste the truth of your words. Though be warned—we will perform a full background check to verify your claims.”
Mistress Mi relaxed visibly at these words. “Thank you,” she said, bowing deeply.”
Hong Xin accepted the bow awkwardly, though she could swear she saw a hint of a smile on Bai Ling’s face.
“Mistress Huang, Ji Bingxue, why don’t you go see that Mistress Mi is settled in and aware of our rules and regulations?” Hong Xin asked.
The two women nodded and escorted the blue-robed woman out of the room, leaving Hong Xin and Bai Ling alone.
“I thought all those women were cold psychopaths who needed to be locked up?” Bai Ling said. “What changed?”
Hong Xin shook her head. “I don’t know. Let’s not have this conversation. Not here and now.”
“Fair enough,” Bai Ling said. She looked distracted, the way she often did when she played Angels and Devils. There was also a lot less bite to her than Hong Xin normally saw.
“Well?” Hong Xin asked. “Out with it.”
“I’m concerned about this business with Spectral Assassins,” Bai Ling said. “It’s worth looking into. I’ve heard whispers lately about such things, but not related to the Icy Heart Pavilion.”
“Then I’ll be counting on you to look into it,” Hong Xin said. “If there’s more to the Icy Heart Pavilion than meets the eye, we need to know.”
“Yes,” Bai Ling said. “I’ll do just that.”
Hong Xin frowned. “Are you sure there’s nothing else that’s wrong?”
Bai Ling shook her head and stood up. She walked over to the door, then hesitated and turned back to face Hong Xin. “Tell me you had nothing to do with this,” Bai Ling said abruptly.
“Wait, what?” Hong Xin asked. Where was this coming from? “Of course not. How could this have anything to do with me?”
Bai Ling looked at her for a moment that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Then, seeing nothing, she looked away. “I’ll be letting Ji Bingxue take care of some of my duties,” Bai Ling said. “She needs to pull more of her weight while I’m looking into this. I’d suggest you make better use of her time as well and teach her a few things.”
“All right…” Hong Xin said. “I’ll teach her more, but you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“In time,” Bai Ling said. “I need more information for now. When I get it, we’ll sit down and talk about it. For now, it’s only speculation.” She walked out of the room, leaving Hong Xin alone.
Just what is going on? Hong Xin thought. First Ji Bingxue. Then the trainee’s fright. And now this? She shook her head and pushed it all to the back of her mind. She’d let Bai Ling worry about that. There was a ton of work on her desk waiting to be done. Maybe she could ask Ji Bingxue to help out, she thought as she walked back to her chambers.
Yes, a little bit of help would go a long way.
“Young master?” Elder Bai said, walking up beside Wang Jun as he stared out the window. “Is everything all right?” The white-haired old man seemed especially weary today; the bags beneath his eyes were a deeper color than normal, and his wrinkles more pronounced than usual. His clothes were also slightly wrinkled, something the prim and proper man would never have allowed in the past.
Wang Jun took in a breath of fresh air and breathed out slowly. “Everything is fine,” he lied. They’d been having a meeting, and Wang Jun had felt a twinge of panic. He’d jumped to the window, looking out toward the city with suspicion. He still didn’t know what had gotten into him.
These days, he saw things in the shadows he’d never known existed. The more abilities he learned, however, the more he grew suspicious. Were others doing what he was doing as well? Could other people manipulate as he did? And if they could, were they sabotaging him without his knowledge? These days, it certainly seemed that way.
There was a soft knock on the door. Wang Jun closed his eyes and didn’t look toward it. “Come in, Patriarch,” he said.
The door opened, revealing the green-robed Wang Wuling. No one else accompanied him. “Please continue your meeting elsewhere. It seems the Patriarch would like to have a word with me.” Wang Bing and Elder Bai didn’t hesitate to pick up their things and scramble out of the room.
Wang Jun didn’t bother pouring tea for the man, and the man didn’t expect any. He simply continued staring out the window.
The Patriarch joined him. “Is it you who’s been doing this?” Patriarch Wuling asked softly. He let the question hang there, without context or setting. Like many things, it was likely a test, or a trap set for Wang Jun to walk into.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Wang Jun said, looking to the side.
The Patriarch, despite being several centuries old, didn’t seem to have aged in the slightest. His blond hair didn’t contain the slightest hint of white, and his face bore no wrinkles.
“The blackmails, the underground dealings,” Patriarch Wuling said. “The murders, the turmoil in the underground. I know you were complicit in the Spirit Temple’s fight with the Red Dust Pavilion, but for what reason, I am uncertain. Perhaps you exchanged favors? I can understand that. We all fight for benefits in this imperfect world.”
“I don’t have anything to do with them,” Wang Jun said. “Not that you’ll believe me. What I do and don’t do doesn’t seem to matter.”
“In this case, it does matter,” Patriarch Wuling said, almost in a growl. Wang Jun gave him a surprised look. The man rarely lost his temper. “The family is losing significant amounts of money, mostly through lost clients.”
“And has it ever occurred to you,” Wang Jun said, “that it could be mismanagement? That the man you thought was perfect for the job is nothing more than an incompetent fool?”
“Perhaps,” Patriarch Wuling said. “But given that you’re a disciple of that man, the alternative seems more plausible.”
“Ah,” Wang Jun said. “Then something else should have occurred to you.”
“And what’s that?” Patriarch Wuling said.
“If I’d wanted to destroy our family or cripple its finances, I could have done so many times,” Wang Jun said. “I could have exposed Wang Ling’s dealings to the Church of Justice. Even now, I still could. Or did you think I gave you the actual recording orb?”
Patriarch Wuling’s eyes narrowed, but Wang Jun continued. “I could have handed damning information from my audits directly to the king’s men. There are many ways I could’ve implicated this family. And if I did, who would blame me? And if they tried to catch me, would they be able to? No, you need to understand that these things aren’t my fault; they are your own fault, and the one you chose. The moment you accept this, everything else will fall into place.”
Patriarch Wuling remained silent for a moment, as though mulling over whether or not to say something. “I see,” he finally said, walking away from the window.
“Is that all?” Wang Jun asked, surprised at how quickly the discussion had gone. He’d expected anger or bickering, or perhaps some level of defensiveness.
“That’s all,” Patriarch Wuling said. “I hardened myself to these things many years ago. Nothing comes as much of a surprise to me anymore. But know this: If you’re guilty of these things, I’ll make sure everyone you hold dear suffers greatly.” The door closed behind him, leaving Wang Jun alone in his dimly lit office.
Something about their exchange, short as it was, had been disappointing. It seemed like the Patriarch was close to breaking. All he’d had to do was blackmail, frame, and murder to get there. The finish line was finally in sprinting distance. Further, he was flush with plundered cash and stolen goods, forming a good underground asset base he could use in a pinch.
Victory was near at hand, but something was gnawing at him. He knew that the end justified the means, but the means couldn’t help but haunt his nightmares and dreams. In the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of shadows.
“Come out,” Wang Jun said. “What did you see?”
The shadow, his own shadow, hopped out into the open room. It landed where his shadow would have been if he had one anymore; shadows didn’t cast one of their own.
Images filled his mind. Observations, of course. Useful information the shadow had spied on from its own world of dark light. Wang Jun sifted through the images, looking for something. There was someone out there, doing much the same thing as he’d been doing. It was stealing like he’d been stealing. Killing like he’d been killing.
The strange killings had him worried. They hadn’t hurt his goals. In fact, most had even benefited him somehow. Further, his own black market had been the one flooded with pilfered merchandise from the copycat’s victims. What bothered him, however, was that these killings were outside of his control. Who knew when the copycat would step out of line, or even commit a crime that implicated him?
“Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anyone else doing the things I’ve been doing,” Wang Jun said after finishing his viewing. “That aside, do as you see fit.” The shadow nodded. It gave a mock salute and jumped back into a dark corner of the room.
“What reliable things, these shadow clones,” Wang Jun mumbled. It was a pity he couldn’t have more than one, for now. It wasn’t smart, but it knew how to get things done. He was now better informed than he’d ever been. “If only everyone else was so reliable.”
Elder Bai and Wang Bing were all right, of course, but cloning oneself had its advanta
ges. For one, it would think in much the same way as him. For another, it would never betray his interests, unlike those poisonous snakes he called family. Those would have killed him long ago if not for his master’s tutelage.
He shook his head. That line of thought was dangerous. As a leader, he had to trust those who reported to him. So he packed his things and made his way toward Elder Bai’s office. Some people might slack off, but the old man never would. His tenacity and devotion were one of the few things that kept Wang Jun going. It was a light warding away the darkness that was slowly claiming his soul.
Chapter 30: Land of Time Forgotten
Why does it have to be so hot here? Huxian thought as he ran across the barren plane. The landscape didn’t resemble the cracked clay near the city, nor the flat rock near the plateau and the monks. Here, the flat land was covered in dusty earth in much need of rain. Fortunately, there was more than a light dusting of the substance, else his paws would slip due to the greasy and intrusive nature of it; it was packed six feet deep, more than enough to bear his weight.
The dust, though annoying, didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was its source: the blistering sun and its scorching red light. It never seemed to grow closer, but it did grow larger. What had started off as big as a large coin was now the size of a mountain. It loomed over him, singeing his fur and evaporating his drool. His eyes were red, both from exhaustion and the lack of humidity.
A few months ago, even a week’s worth of walking would have barely increased the sun’s size by a sliver. Now he saw its size visibly increase after only an hour of running. He could also feel a soft humming presence from the sun. It wasn’t the usual pulsing you’d expect, but rather a burst of heat frozen in time. That same heat that burned his fur and seared his flesh. If not for the ample demonic qi in the air to replenish his stores, he would have become a roast dish weeks ago, a delicacy that even heavenly emperors would fight over.
Thank the heavens I don’t have to worry about sun blindness, he thought. Apparently it was a problem for humans and some lesser species of demons. Somehow, demonic evolution had determined that such an immunity was essential to their development. Greater demons like him could stare at the sun all day long, as long as they could bear the pain.
Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists Page 35