Backlash Part 1

Chapter 145: Robes of the Black Sun

Wen Qing held her head high and kept her face as calm and focused as she could manage. Outside of the Flame Palace was deceptively silent. A permanent array had been worked into the walls and doors of the Flame Palace to keep the sounds inside. The infirmary was located right next door. A deliberate design decision to have healers close at hand to tend to the prisoners. The guards stationed outside the doors of the Flame Palace opened them for her.

Immediately Wen Qing was assaulted by the sounds. Distant screams, pained moans, and sobs... These were the sounds of the Flame Palace, every room dedicated to torture. The first time Wen Qing had heard the sounds from inside the Flame Palace, she had been terrified. She had been young back then. Too young to fully understand what this place was.

Wen Qing still remembered the first time she was called to tend to one of the Flame Palace's 'residents'. The sight of that man had scarred Wen Qing. As she treated his life threatening injuries he had been begging her to stop, begging her to let him die. She treated him on two more occasions after that, and sometimes she wished she had granted his wish the first time he asked.

Wen Qing entered the Flame Palace, doing her utmost to pretend that the sounds echoing down the hallways didn't bother her. After a few agonizingly slow minutes, a young cultivator appeared to greet her.

"Wen-guniang, thank you for arriving so promptly. If you'll follow me this way I can take you to Meng-gongzi's office." The young cultivator's robes featured a belt with distinctive embroidery of a black sun motif, that identified the cultivator as being a torturer of the Flame Palace. All cultivators who worked in the Flame Palace had this regardless of their station within the QishanWen sect. It was not a detail commonly recognized by the wider cultivation world, but those that were a part of the QishanWen sect knew to pay attention.

Anyone who wore this particular embroidery, even if they were of a lower station than you, was someone you needed to be cautious of. The Flame Palace was the QishanWen sects torture hall. Wen Rouhan respected the intelligence that his torturers gathered, and he himself enjoyed spending time with residents (victims). Everyone in the QishanWen sect knew to give the cultivators of the Flame Palace every courtesy, unless you wanted to find yourself at their mercy.

There was a very real fear for the cultivators of the Flame Palace that pervaded the minds of every sane member of the QishanWen sect. Wen Qing never approached the place unless she was ordered to, and always tried to leave as soon as possible. There was nothing good in the Flame Palace. The Flame Palace was a place where humanity was slowly bled dry.

Wen Qing had always believed there had to be something wrong with the cultivators who chose to work in the Flame Palace. It was a choice. No one was assigned to work in the Flame Palace. It was one of the few places within the QishanWen sect that Wen Rouhan permitted the choice to stay or leave as a cultivator wished.

If a cultivator that worked there wished to transfer to another section, it was allowed. They were not always guaranteed that their new position would be the one they asked for, but it usually was. Similarly Wen Rouhan did not force anyone to work in the Flame Palace. Every cultivator there made the decision to work there. Granted, there was no denying a certain amount of preferential treatment that those working in the Flame Palace received, but Wen Qing did not feel that was enough to make up for the gruesome tasks that those cultivators had to complete.

"Here we are," The young woman announced. Wen Qing recognized the intricately carved dark wooden door. Meng Yao's office. "Please have a seat. Meng-gongzi is with a resident right now, but he will join you once he's done."

Wen Qing had scarcely entered the room before the door was closed behind her. Wen Qing sighed heavily. At least in here she couldn't hear the screaming and crying that had echoed down the hallways. Wen Qing allowed her eyes to travel across the room. Meng Yao was very organized. Books lined up neatly on the shelves in alphabetical order. Tasteful, if somewhat meaningless, decorations adorning the walls and clean surfaces. Wen Qing drifted towards one corner of the room that reminded her a bit of the infirmary. Bottles and jars, a cabinet filled with dried herbs. The tools scattered about for mixing and preparing everything from pills to elixirs.