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Chapter 77: Unacceptable
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 12:12:04 +0000 UTC~~~
“‘The bitterest of hardships forge the greatest soul…’ I must say, I am not too fond of that saying. Temper swords if you must, but remember that too much of it just embrittles and breaks the blade. You should learn to be like me: brewing, drinking, and being drunk… The world is unbearable otherwise. On this, I believe our Lord would agree.”
— Patriarch ‘Hei Shang’ to Young Miss ‘Hei Xingyu’ in a private conversation, days before she disappears on her final journey from the Beheaded Phoenix Sect
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“You are half-naked.”
That statement from Brother Dai broke Feng out of his daze. The Young Master shook his head as he stepped into the compounds of his private estate.
It was nowhere as lavish as the Hei Clan’s primary mansion, but the small enclosed villa suited his needs perfectly. It was secluded, its study rooms were well-furnished, and the outdoor gardens were personally maintained by him, giving off the serene aura oft seen within Young Master’s meticulous nature.
As far as private property goes, Feng’s little home was already far better than what most cultivators would ever own.
“My robes have melted, yes. It gladdens me to know the Senior Brother has eyes,” the Young Master tiredly replied as he removed his ruined garments. Despite their quality craftsmanship and material — both well-tailored to endure the punishing techniques of Sect martial arts — they had disintegrated near instantly under the tears of the Decaying Greyroots’s Young Miss.
The wounds on his chest struggled to heal from the damage as well. Even now, his body was fighting hard to purge the last remains of the toxins within his system.
Despite everything, a smile made its way to the Young Master’s face. Yunjin had grown into a terrifying woman indeed. While they might still be those who would mock her stifled standing and disgraceful childhood, Feng doubted there were many who dared to do so openly, not with the potency of her toxins.
There was no need for him to worry about her any more. No need at all…
“What happened in there that you would come out half-naked, in tears, and without an ounce of care for propriety?” Dai probed as he watched Feng flop onto a couch with all the grace of a drunk. His bare chest bore ugly wounds, hissing and squirming as they futilely attempted to regenerate, only to rot away immediately at invisible toxins slithering beneath the surface.
“You care more for my nakedness than my wounds?” Feng questioned.
“The wounds make you look manly,” Dai explained with a shrug. “The nakedness, however, makes you look adulterous.”
“Ah, so it is my honour that concerns you and not this excruciating pain over my chest,” the youth sardonically replied.
Dai frowned at his rudeness, though not in anger or disapproval. Feng could sense a heavy concern in the man’s gaze.
Feng looked away. The thought of his own immaturity shamed him. It seemed he could not stop hurting the people close to him lately.
“You’ll live. Please remember that you still have the reputation of a Young Master to uphold,” the senior chided. “It would not do for your disciples to see the Young Lord they look up to crying like a spurned maiden.”
“I'm not crying,” Feng denied stoically.
The look Dai gave him was at once both pitiful and understanding.
“I understand that pride is a facet of all cultivators, but don’t let it blind you to the truth,” he lectured. “Your position begets people to look to you. When you do things like this, they will talk.”
“And since when does a Young Master care for the opinions of gossipers and scandal-hungry idiots?” Feng grunted as he closed his eyes and leaned back against his chair. He focused on cycling his qi, working hard to purge the ever-mutating toxins in his system.
What vile intelligence… To adapt so rapidly, even when assailed by the immune system of a Tempering Realm cultivator…
Feng was bleakly reminded once more that they might be another entity invested in Yunjin’s development — one beyond his ability to protect her from, though it appeared she had been successful in taming it.
“It matters because those ‘scandal-hungry idiots’ include not just mere mortals, but also the Disciples and Elders of Sects — both our own and that of foreign dignitaries.” The senior rubbed his eyes. “You were not raised to be this ignorant. Don’t pretend as such.”
“You were the one who told me not too long ago to ignore the opinions of lessers. I stand by my statement.”
Dai sighed, giving up on that path of conversation and trying another.
“How is she?” the Disciple asked instead.
Feng cracked open an eye and glared at his Senior Brother doubtfully. “You are concerned for Yunjin’s well-being? You have never even met her before today.”
“It’s more for the political ramifications rather than for her emotional health,” Dai admitted. “It might have escaped your notice, but the Decaying Greyroots Sect is rather easily insulted these days. And unlike a few decades back, they actually pose enough of a presence to force us to take their threats seriously now.”
“You were the one who held a blade to their Heiress’s neck,” Feng pointed out.
“And you were the one who broke her heart,” Dai easily shot back. “Between the two of us, I think it is easy to see who gave the greater insult.”
The Young Master glowered, but did not refute his Senior’s point.
Seeing as his Young Master was still injured, Dai commanded a nearby servant to fetch new robes for the Young Lord, along with healing salves and medicine.
“Do you have any idea how many people saw you walking out of the Decaying Greyroots’s estate like this?” he complained. “Strutting brazenly, not just from the foreign Sect’s diplomatic residence, but their Heiress’s own private guest house, no less. The rumours are already spreading. People are saying you were trying to elope with the Poison Princess.”
Feng blinked. “That’s what they are calling Yunjin now?”
Dai looked exasperated. “Please don’t say her first name so casually. You are already in a deep enough disgrace as is.”
The servant returned, and the Senior Disciple tossed a flask of medicinal Spirit Wine over to Feng, along with his Young Master robes. The youth ignored the robes, but he did drink the Spirit Wine absentmindedly. The purplish hue over his torso soon began to subside.
Dai continued: “And yes, that’s her new moniker now. You might have been too distracted to notice earlier, but half the plants and lesser wildlife around the Ru Clan’s diplomatic estate just suddenly withered and died sometime after you left. We sent disciples to investigate, but they were turned away at the gates by the Young Miss’s retainers. Some of our people reported they heard… crying.”
“... Oh.” The Young Master closed his eyes and hung his head in his hands.
“The mortal servants had to be evacuated once they started sprouting boils and coughing blood,” Dai added. “The miasma over the estate appears to be gradually disappearing, and first estimates of damages are relatively light. Nothing irreplaceable was lost.”
Yunjin’s innate Dantian was of such poisonous potency that she must maintain continuous control over it at all times to prevent the toxins from leaking out into the atmosphere. That momentary outburst of emotions when they were together barely leaked an ounce of her qi, and yet even that was enough to produce mephitic vapours foul enough to kill the surrounding garden.
“The delegates of the Decaying Greyroots Sect have already issued their official and sincerest apologies for the embarrassment caused by the actions of their Lady,” Dai informed him. “As appropriate recompense, they have sent considerable reparations for the inconvenience and promised to punish the Young Miss as suitably fitting for an Heiress in her position.”
Punish her? For crying?
Yunjin will get hurt… because of him?
Unacceptable.
“No,” the Young Master snarled, standing up.
“No?” Dai cautiously asked, a hint of alarm in his voice as he saw the Young Master don his fresh robes, preparing to set out again. “W-wait. Hold on! You cannot honestly be thinking of interfering with their judgment! The affairs of the Young Miss and her Sect are their own. We can't really… do… anything…”
Dai trailed off when he noticed the Young Master staring at the Senior as if he were dim-witted.
“Brother Dai, what in the world did you think I was going to do? Break into the guest compound again, fight my way past her guards, then whisk her away to some happily-ever-after?”
The Young Master’s tone was painfully caustic, yet Dai was unfazed. If anything, the Senior grew more worried. “That may have crossed my mind, yes.”
Feng rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid. Or suicidal. There are other ways we can mitigate the fallout of this incident. Diplomacy, for instance.”
“Diplomacy,” Dai repeatedly flatly. “You, using diplomacy? The Young Master I know is more prone to performing fits of violent stupidity than employing diplomacy.”
Feng wasn’t sure why his Senior Brother was so surprised. He was the Young Master of the Sect. The art of statecraft had been taught to him from the moment he could read and write. His political acumen matched even that of the Elders at times, despite his youth.
The fact that Feng rarely used such political acumen was beside the point.
“Have Elder Cao of External Affairs waive the reparations from the Decaying Greyroots Sect,” Feng declared. “Ensure the injured servants under their service are fully taken care of by our Medical Pavilion. Let it be publicly known that I am personally paying for the damages.”
The Young Master paused. “Send them a gift as well. I believe our Sect has stored away some fine bottles of Burning Soot Ink in the event we needed peace offerings to appease any perceived insults towards the Decaying Greyroots. We will use those. Exorbitant as they are, my available finances should cover the cost.”
The Burning Soot Ink was an expensive alchemical product meant for Spiritual Calligraphy, imported from the Inner Provinces. The martial techniques of the Decaying Greyroots Sect made liberal use of Ink-sealed Talismans. Such quality ink would greatly enhance the efficacy of qi transference.
More importantly, it was reportedly a favourite of Patriarch Ru, who greatly enjoyed their unparalleled consistency when writing. The Beheaded Phoenix Sect saw fit to stockpile a small reserve of them. Galling as the prospect was, the head of the Decaying Greyroots Sect was no longer a man they could simply insult without dire consequences. Having a fail-safe gift was a necessity.
“You are deliberately trying to make it look like the affair was our fault instead of theirs,” Dai realised, grimacing. “Or rather, your fault instead of hers.”
“I see a brain exists within that ape mind of yours, after all,” the Young Master murmured as he prepared ink and tied bundles of bamboo slats. His hands blurred as his brush inscribed instructions onto the flat strips.
Once he was done, his qi flared gently — drying the ink with timely speed — before rolling the strips into scrolls and tossing them to Brother Dai.
“I loathe to repeat myself again, but are you sure this is wise, Young Master?” The Senior asked as he snatched the bamboo rolls from the air. “Lady Ru’s stature might be salvaged, but your reputation will take yet another hit — one which you can least afford, especially now.”
“It would mollify her father,” Feng asserted without hesitation. “I consider that more than a fair exchange.”
Dai let out a defeated breath.
