Promise and Betrayal: A Mo Dao Zu Shi (the Untamed) Story

Chapter 22

The hour of the feast arrives. Before we enter the hall, Wei Ying pulls me aside and ushers me to his room. He looks at me intently, looking like wants to say something, but I motion to the hall.

"We do not want to be late again," I say. "Especially not today."

He does not respond immediately. "Just..." he falters, finding the right words. "You can still back out."

"Are you trying to protect me by pushing me away?" I ask. "I made you a promise. We're brothers, Wei Ying. Made of the same spiritual energy. Our promise shifted the very fabric of the world. I will not turn away now. Not ever." I clap him on the back in reassurance.

He probably pulled me aside to bolster his confidence, to hear someone say they believe in him. Lan Zhan would have chastised him, but I am not Lan Zhan. I am sure he knew what my reaction would be, but he may have needed the confidence burst that would ensue. But my words ring true regardless. I will die for this promise if I have to.

"Then let's begin," he says, a wicked smile crawling across his face. I cannot resist returning the smirk. He gives me one last encouraging shoulder tap before we leave the room.

The sun has passed its zenith in the sky, the faint colors of the sunset beginning to splatter the clouds. Carp Tower is silhouetted against it, a monolith of stairs and pagodas guarded at each landing by at least three guards. The guests stream up the stairs, in good spirits and in good company.

We are near the stragglers as we ascend the staircase. But while they dash in a hurry, we keep our dignity. Shoulder-to-shoulder, we walk leisurely up the stairs, my swords and his flute in full view, the easy rhythm of our gait all anyone needs to know our prowess in battle. Wei Ying idly spins his instrument. No cape covers my double scabbards tonight. The pommels of Promise and Betrayal glimmer in the setting sun, like they are expecting to alter history tonight.

The doors are about to close when we reach them. The servants see us, scurrying to halt the doors. We are the last to arrive, but we are not late; the feast has not started. The others are quiet as we enter the hall, our demeanors fundamentally different than last night. No one asks any questions. They save them, scrutinizing us with a myriad of curious and suspicious looks instead. The concubines that wander around bat their eyelashes at us as we pass. I give them all a healthy dose of my cold stare, and once they look long enough, they quickly avert their eyes. Sometimes keeping my secret has its benefits.

I settle in a seat next to Wei Ying, close to Lan Zhan, but not next to him. We are all to the left of Clan Leader Jin. His eldest son, Jin Zuxian, sits directly at his right. Jin Zixan, the cousin, sits behind them both. He looks murderous, despite the merry mood of the occasion. Wei Ying sees him the same time I do. I have the control to keep a glower from my face, but Wei Ying has no reservations for openly showing his distaste for the man, and by extension, the clan leader. Both of us are fond of Jin Zuxian, despite his family and his faults; Jin Zuxian was a participant in many of our adventures, and therefore has earned our trust. But his father...his father I cannot forgive. Neither can I forgive Jin Zixan and his accomplice.

The feast commences with a customary toast. Glasses shatter, guests drink. The concubines serve the main course. The conversation flows as readily as the wine, and is as eager as the ladies. The men are enjoying themselves, far more than last night. But we are about to spoil their merrymaking, to my satisfaction.

Rarely does the conversation turn to the Wen Clan. But we have a plan: a plant in the crowd will ask someone and strike a conversation. When the discussion becomes loud and heated enough, it will garner the attention of the entire hall. Other conversations quiet, the onlookers sipping their drinks and nibbling their hors d'oeuvres delicately while eyeing the partakers like they are watching a particularly exotic animal.