All The Gods We Can Touch - Book : Under this Iron Sky

十 Taking Sunlight from the Seed

Golden eyes lingered upon the shimmering images reflected in the crystal-clear pond. The people sleeping within the ripples remained still, and the man leisurely stretched across his comfortable couch. His cheek pressed into his fist, he sighed deeply.

"How much pressure must be applied before he breaks?" he murmured, his voice contemplative, laced with a touch of irritation. With a languid wave of his withered hand, he dispelled the shimmering images, scattering them into the water's depth.

Another sigh escaped his lips before he sat upright, his back settling into the couch's backrest. His hands, having made a brief adjustment to his regal robes, now rested upon his knee, one leg crossed over the other. Beneath the weight of his posture, the couch looked less like a piece of furniture and more like a throne.

The translucent curtains that framed the pavilion fluttered gently in the breeze, carrying with them the too sweet, slightly woody scent of withering lotus leaves.

A bell chimed faintly in the distance.

One of the curtains shimmered and straightened out, its surface turning a brilliant gold. A figure emerged, gracefully attired in black and silver. Without a word, she pressed her hands together in reverence.

"Your humble servant kowtows to Your Majesty," she intoned, her voice measured and solemn. She knelt before him, her forehead touching the ground three times in swift succession. Rising, she bowed three more times, then, as tradition dictated, performed the gesture once more before remaining prostrated, her veil brushing the varnished wood as her hands splayed flat against it.

"Begin," he drawled, his tone languid and commanding.

She rose onto her knees, her head lowering demurely, her voice soft but filled with careful precision.

"I am but a humble student, possessing little talent and still learning. Therefore I ask, with all due respect, for this Master's guidance."

"This emperor shall grant it," he replied. "Speak of that which weighs upon you."

Sect Leader Xuè Yīnfēng's hands settled gracefully into her lap, fingers clasping tightly together as she steadied the thoughts racing through her mind.

"This Majesty has heard of the dissolution of the Huái Niàn Sect, has he not?" she inquired.

"He has," he agrees.

She nodded, the weight of her next words pressing down on her shoulders.

"All but one disciple has survived. He is on his way back from the Jade City, accompanied by a Yōujìng cultivator. Ostensibly, they seek to lay to rest the resentful energies that linger there, and inquire about the cause of their death. Covertly... this humble one is not so certain."

She hesitated, but the man remained silent, allowing the moment to stretch long and taut. Silence, they both knew, was a weapon—one that when wielded correctly could be deadly.

She quelled the unease stirring in her chest and continued.

"Your Majesty is aware of the Cultivation World's wariness towards the practices of the Huái Niàn Sect. This Lord has been magnanimous in permitting them to develop their... arts . Yet, many have grown suspicious of their use of blood. Previously, the Sect Leader of Yōujìng was particularly enamored with Huái Niàn's, and she made sure to ease our fears regarding their activities. However and since the passing of Huái Niàn's Sect Leader, Huái Lóng's gates have remained sealed to any outside Sect seeking assurance."

She paused, carefully gathering her thoughts before proceeding. These next words would not be taken lightly—rumors and speculation, particularly of this nature, was a dangerous thing to voice in the presence of one so powerful.