Rustpen
patreon
Chapter 154: BUY AND SELL
🕑 Added 2026-01-07 22:25:21 +0000 UTC(Chapter 2 of 2 today.)
CHAPTER
154
BUY AND SELL
Jieyuan
—∞—
“Should you wish to bid on a lot,” their attendant was saying, indicating one of the two pedestals rising off the floor, “then you need only channel chroma here, and state a number of prisms and their color. The bid will be reflected on the outside of the booth window.”
Jieyuan, Meiyao, Daojue, and their attendant were inside the booth they’d been assigned for the auction. The attendant had brought them straight here after their talk with Sovereign Aoxin and Dayang, leading them through several twisting hallways and staircases.
The booth was all black stone, like everything else in the Mysterious Night House; a roughly cube-shaped room that could’ve fit a party of ten inside with space left over. It was amply furnished, with three large, plush silver couches (just like the ones in the private room) facing a clear glass window that started at about waist height and stretched upward until the ceiling.
Between the couches and the window stood two pedestals. One silver, the other jade. The attendant was currently pointing at the silver one.
Past the masked woman, beyond the window, Jieyuan could see a massive, circular hall that reminded him a bit too much of the Viridian Cradle, that bizarre temple-arena from Viridian Death City. Except instead of tiered stands funneling down toward the pit, the auction hall of the Mysterious Night House had large, cubic booths jutting out from its walls.
The windows on the booths Jieyuan could see were smooth black panes; what distinguished them from the black stone they were set on was their color and sheen: they were both darker and more reflective than the stone around them. On the walls, between the booths, was the sea of shining embossed stars Jieyuan had already grown used to seeing everywhere.
Further up, in the vaulted, dome-like ceiling, was a massive, crescent moon, glowing a deep, spectral silver. Opposite it, all the way down on the ground level, was a large black stone stage, a mirror of the moon far above adorning its floor. There was nobody on the stage yet.
“And this pedestal,” the attendant said, gesturing toward the jade one, “functions similarly to a jadebook. It’ll contain information on the lot being presented. You need only channel chroma into it to access that information.”
She took a step back, drawing herself up. She nodded toward the window. “The glass here is one-way. This is achieved through a physical, mundane artifice; therefore, it shall work on any cultivator, regardless of realm. Your privacy is fully assured.”
Mundane artifice, is it? That’s new.
Something else Jieyuan had noticed right before they’d entered the booth was that, just like with the private room, he’d been unable to send his soulsense into it. Once inside it, he’d been able to use his soulsense normally again, but he hadn’t managed to detect the presence of an inscribed field. So just like with the room, there was an Orangerealm (or higher) privacy inscribed field at work here.
“As for the auction itself,” the attendant said, the words flowing smooth and practiced, scripted, “should you make a winning bid, the lot shall be delivered straight to your booth before the next lot is presented. You shall also have to provide the payment for the bid upon the delivery of the lot. Likewise, if any of your auctioned items are sold, we shall deduct the House’s share of one-seventh of the winning bid and deliver the remaining sum straight to your booth immediately after settlement.”
That was… rather expedient of them. The Haoyujin had run a mundane auction house, and it used to take upwards of weeks to properly process a bid. Then again, there was a whole logistical problem in moving money around that cultivators could bypass through the use of prisms and storage artifacts.
She paused, giving them time to process everything, then asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“No,” Jieyuan said. “That will be all.”
“Then I shall be waiting outside should you have any need of me.”
With that, she left, closing the door to the booth behind her. Meiyao walked over to the front and stared out the window. Jieyuan joined her there; Daojue stayed back.
“We’re in the topmost tier,” Meiyao said softly.
Jieyuan blinked. She’d been quiet the whole way here. He’d tried to strike up a conversation through their mind-link, but she’d insisted she didn’t want to talk.
Jieyuan took a good look at the auction hall. The booths were indeed separated by tier, and theirs was the closest to the ceiling. He did a quick count of how many booths per tier; the ones at the top were bigger and sparser, but the further down you went, the smaller and more numerous the booths. There were hundreds on the bottommost tier; the auction hall was that big.
“We are,” he said. “Is that important?”
“Maybe,” Meiyao said. “This tier’s normally reserved for Orangesouls. Or higher.”
“Oh. It must be because we auctioned off Orangesoul rings.”
Meiyao gave a low, thoughtful hum.
Jieyuan paid closer attention to the booths on their level. What were the odds that Qingshi was in one of them?
Terribly small, or so he hoped.
“You said you attended some auctions here before, with your mother,” Jieyuan said. “Anything you think we should know?”
“Not particularly,” Meiyao said quietly, and Jieyuan could tell he was losing her, that she was closing herself again. The matter with Palace Head Yiming had really gotten to her.
“Tell me about her,” Jieyuan said.
“What?”
“Your mother, Lianhua,” Jieyuan said. “Tell me about her.”
It wasn’t a topic that came up often. It was probably the most delicate subject, really, as far as Meiyao was concerned. So far, every time Meiyao had brought Linzushen Lianhua up in conversation, it had been entirely unprompted, out of her own volition.
But he wanted to take her mind off the whole Yiming business (if nothing else, so she didn’t do anything stupid), so he decided to take a calculated risk.
Meiyao turned away from the window; the mask made her expression impossible to read, but he wouldn’t be surprised if her face was just as unreadable right now.
Jieyuan kept staring out the window, waiting.
Then Meiyao said, “All right.”
And she started talking. Quietly. While Jieyuan listened.
—∞—
The auction was in full swing. Jieyuan and Meiyao sat on the middle couch, watching as down below, a man wearing the black and silver mask and robes of a Mysterious Night House employee introduced the next lot: an ornate Orangesoul sword.
The weapon was laid on top of a large black stone stand, where every item so far had been displayed.
“It possesses the following spiritskills…” the man was saying, his voice reaching them as if he were standing right beside them. The booth, it turned out, was inscribed with sound-relaying inscripts, transmitting the man’s voice.
More out of curiosity than anything else, Jieyuan brushed his hand against the jade pedestal and pumped a little bit of chroma into it. The sword being presented below appeared in his mind’s eye in perfect clarity; accompanying that image was a text detailing who’d crafted the sword, what properties and spiritskills it had. The minimum bid was also listed: one thousand three hundred orange prisms.
Before the start of the auction, Jieyuan had been considering buying a few Orangesoul artifacts to sacrifice to the Shifting Feathers. But the moment the first Orangesoul lot came, Jieyuan had given up on the idea, realizing that any Orangesoul artifacts auctioned here would be special, expensive ones—not the sort you wanted to sacrifice to an ego artifact.
Down below, the auctioneer announced the start of the bidding.
Barely a moment passed before, in one of the topmost booths, silver lines appeared on its dark, opaque glass.
Two thousand. Orange.
Jieyuan didn’t do anything, just sat back, reclined on the couch. He, Meiyao, and Daojue hadn’t bid on anything yet, and he didn’t think they would. Their three Orangesoul sealed-space rings had already been auctioned off, leaving them seventeen thousand five hundred orange prisms richer. The prisms had come inside a courtesy Orangesoul glyph-stretch pouch, which Jieyuan had put inside his Redsoul one.
Right now, they were only really waiting for the auction to wrap up so they could buy the information they needed (the Mysterious Night House halted all their services while the auction was ongoing) and get out of there.
The Orangesoul sword ended up being sold to the booth directly opposite theirs for three thousand orange prisms when no more bids came after a whole minute had passed.
Down below, a pair of employees took the sword away. A few minutes passed where nothing happened in the ground stage, during which Jieyuan knew all the relevant transactions were being completed.
And then the next lot was brought onto the stage: a small ornate black box carried in by a single employee, who laid it upon the display stand. The auctioneer opened the box and stepped back theatrically.
Jieyuan squinted, leaning forward to get a look at what was inside it.
It was… a cylinder? A smooth, white cylinder, lying on top of a small silver cushion inside the box.
“This is one of our more mysterious artifacts to be auctioned off today,” said the auctioneer’s deep voice from the relay inscripts on their booth. “It has mystified even our Orangesoul appraisers, who have been unable to detect its spirit-shadow—even though the object is evidently chromal.”
It what, now?
Jieyuan perked up. Beside him, Meiyao also straightened. The two of them reached out toward the jade pedestal almost at the same time.
The object down below appeared in his mind’s eye, and Jieyuan saw that it was indeed a cylinder. A quick skim of the text didn’t tell Jieyuan much more. It only repeated, in more words, what the auctioneer had already said: that it’d been beyond their appraisers’ ability.
There was only one explanation. The cylinder was at a higher realm than the Orangesoul appraisers. Meaning it had to be at least Yellowsoul. It was what both the auctioneer and the text were trying to imply without actually saying it.
The minimum bid, though, confused Jieyuan.
Five thousand orange prisms.
More than the Orangesoul sword earlier, but not by as much as Jieyuan would’ve expected.
Meiyao chuckled. “Oh, they’re doing it again.”
Jieyuan glanced at her. “What?”
“Something like this happened the last time I was here, with my mother,” Meiyao said. “Sometimes they get a Yellowsoul artifact to auction off. A redsoul finds an artifact they can’t sense, thinks it's at Orangesoul, and hands it over to the Mysterious Night House to auction it off. But then the House realizes it’s not actually Orangesoul.”
Jieyuan frowned under his mask. “The way you say it, you make that sound like a bad thing.”
“Hmmm? It is a bad thing. Yellowsouls don’t attend these auctions, and Redsouls and Orangesouls cannot use an artifact at that realm. If it had been a weapon—if it’d had an edge, at least—it might have drawn some interest. But that thing below? It’s just an indestructible cylinder to anyone below Yellowsoul. It’s worthless. And if you try to sell it to a Yellowsoul…”
She shrugged. “First off, you’ll have to find one. And then, assuming you do, what’s stopping them from just taking it from you? They’re Yellowsoul; you’re not.”
“Oh.” It was moments like this that made Jieyuan realize that he hadn’t completely adapted to a cultivator’s mindset yet. He still clung to some mundane definitions of value. “Right.”
The auctioneer’s voice sounded again, announcing the minimum bid and declaring the start of the bidding.
Nearly a minute passed. None of the booths lit up.
“Seems like they’re out of luck this time,” Meiyao said, shaking her head. Jieyuan could hear the smile in her voice. “They always put up a high starting price, hoping some idiot would—”
Daojue, who’d remained motionless since the start of the auction, strode forward and put his hand on the silver pedestal. Then he said, “Five thousand orange prisms.”
There was a moment of stunned silence where Jieyuan and Meiyao just stared at Daojue.
Then Meiyao sprang up from the couch. “What the rot do you think you’re doing?”
Jieyuan scrambled to his feet and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back. “Hold on. Daojue, what’s going on?”
Daojue moved away from the silver pedestal, turning toward them. The man was already near impossible to read without a mask, never mind with one on. But Jieyuan noticed something immediately.
Daojue was tapping one of his fingers against his own leg. Very subtly.
Now, Daojue wasn’t one for small, unconscious movements like that. But there was one exception to that rule, and it always involved that particular finger Daojue was moving right now.
Though there was a gauntlet over it right now, Jieyuan knew that, on that finger, Daojue wore a very particular red ring.
Daojue said nothing, just stared at Jieyuan. But this was different from Daojue’s normal stares, besides how his eyes were mundane right now. There was a depth to it, like Daojue was trying to convey something.
And Jieyuan realized the way he was tapping his finger, this time, might not be so unconscious after all.
“Jieyuan,” Meiyao said, still glaring at Daojue, “please unhand me so I can murder him.”
Right. Meiyao had no way of knowing—of noticing—any of the things he’d just realized about the situation. To her, Daojue had just bid an incomprehensible amount of prisms on something utterly useless.
“It’s… complicated,” Jieyuan said. He had no problem telling his secrets to Meiyao, but Daojue’s secrets were a different story. They weren’t Jieyuan’s to share. “But Daojue knows what he’s doing.”
“I beg to rotting differ,” Meiyao snapped. “We need those prisms to buy information on—”
The auctioneer’s voice came again, announcing the cylinder had just been sold for five thousand orange prisms.
Down below, a House employee entered the stage and took away the box with the cylinder Daojue had just bought.
“ROT!”
Now Meiyao pulled away from him for real, and he nearly lost his grip on her. Daojue just kept staring at them. As if the only thing standing between him and murder by Meiyao wasn’t one desperate Jieyuan.
“Meiyao, we still have twelve thousand prisms,” Jieyuan said through gritted teeth. “It’ll be enough. More than enough, really.”
Meiyao was having none of it. She jerked away hard, escaping his hold, then rounded on him.
“Jieyuan, he”—she jabbed a finger at Daojue—“bought a cylinder. A rotting cylinder. For five thousand orange prisms.”
“Trust me,” Jieyuan said. “He has a reason for it.”
Meiyao huffed, crossing her arms.
Really, though, he was just glad she hadn’t actually tried to attack Daojue.
Sometimes Jieyuan couldn’t help but wonder just who the Firesoul in the relationship actually was.
—∞—
They were back in one of the private rooms; it was identical to the one they’d been in earlier with Dayang and Sovereign Aoxin: black stone, starry lighting, silver couches.
The moment the auction was over, Jieyuan had walked out of their booth, found their attendant (who’d indeed been waiting outside), and told her they wanted to buy Orangesoul information.
She’d brought them straight to this room and told them to wait here before leaving.
They’d assumed the same positions as last time: Jieyuan on the couch, Meiyao beside him, Daojue standing to the side.
The air was thick with tension, but it thankfully had little to do with the whole cylinder business.
The box with the mysterious cylinder was delivered to their room shortly after Meiyao’s outburst at Daojue’s bid. Daojue had been the one to receive it, and after removing the cylinder from the box, he’d spent a good while just staring at the white, cylindrical object in his hands in solemn silence. He’d eventually put it away.
Meiyao had also done some staring of her own. Or rather, glaring. At Daojue. Incensed at first. But then something in her posture had shifted, and her gaze had changed, going from furious to suspicious. Jieyuan had also gotten his own share of suspicious looks from her.
To Meiyao’s credit, though, it seemed like she understood (or at least respected) that Jieyuan had his reasons for being vague about what Daojue was up to. She hadn’t tried to pry, even though she’d looked like she’d really wanted to.
Jieyuan had his own suspicions about what the cylinder was. But it hadn’t looked like Daojue was willing to discuss them (Jieyuan wasn’t sure it was because of the location, because Meiyao was around, or because of something else), so Jieyuan was saving his questions for later.
Right now, though, what was weighing on his mind was something else altogether. A more immediate matter.
This was it, Jieyuan thought. Very soon, they’d be getting the answers that would decide their next moves going forward. Their talk with Sovereign Aoxin and Dayang had cleared some doubts, but it’d ultimately raised more questions than it had answered.
It was time to get to the bottom of the matter and learn just what was going on with Qingshi and the Liangshibai.
There was just one thing he wanted to settle first.
“Let me handle the questions,” he said to Meiyao. “If you’ve got anything specific you want to know, tell me through the mind-link. It’s not that I don’t trust your discretion, but—”
“Don’t worry,” Meiyao said. “I understand.”
The door to the room opened a short while later, and a woman walked inside. She wore the black-and-silver mask and robes of the Mysterious Night House, but unlike the other employees they’d seen so far, she also had a silver coat on.
First-shade, red, Jieyuan’s soulsenses told him.
She was masking her true soulsign, then. Just like them.
“Hello,” the woman said, pleasantly, before closing the door behind her. Her voice was clear and soft.
Jieyuan blinked, surprised. He’d expected another dull, monotone drone. “Hello?”
The woman walked over and sat down on the couch across from them. “I’m one of the elders of the House’s intelligence division. I understand you have questions regarding Orangesoul matters.” She tipped her head. “What would you like to know?”
“The Liangshibai,” Jieyuan said, immediately, as he saw Meiyao leaning forward. They’d agreed she’d let him take this, but he didn’t want to risk it. “What’s their situation?”
“Ah.” The woman paused. “One hundred orange prisms should do for that.”
“Upfront?” Jieyuan asked, reaching for his pouch.
“We can settle it afterwards,” the woman said. “I understand you’re good for it.”
That second part was said lightly. Like a joke.
He was starting to get a grasp on the situation. The woman’s friendly, approachable behavior was very likely an act to set them at ease, get them to drop their guard—and reveal more information.
Intelligence division indeed. She was collecting information even as she sold it.
“Let’s see, then,” the woman said. “The members of the Liangshibai Clan are currently all confined in their compounds in the Gleaming Stone Sect. Sovereign Qingshi has them under constant watch.”
He felt a presence brushing against his mind and accepted the mind-link. Meiyao’s voice sounded in his head. Ask her what he’s planning on doing with them.
All right, Jieyuan said. Then, out loud, he asked, “Why? He can’t mean to just keep them in house arrest forever.”
“We have been unable to figure out Sovereign Qingshi’s long-term plans,” the intelligence elder said, “but for the time being, he seems intent on protecting the Liangshibai.”
What from? Meiyao’s voice again.
“Protecting them?” Jieyuan asked. “From the Gleaming Nobles?”
“Partly,” the elder said, “but we believe his bigger concern at the moment is the disappearances.”
Meiyao went very still.
Jieyuan also tensed. That didn’t sound good.
What disappearances? Meiyao sent him. Jieyuan repeated the question.
“For the past five decades, members of the Liangshibai clan have been disappearing. It started out with just their mundane members; roughly twenty years ago, Liangshibai cultivators started disappearing too, in missions outside the sect. The sect’s Justice Bureau has been looking into the matter for the past twenty years without much result.”
This rang some bells in Jieyuan’s mind; he recalled Meiyao telling him about this, a long time ago, after the Gleamstone Hunt. How it was Elder Taishou who’d figured out what was going on after going through the sect’s records, pointing out the disappearances were happening too consistently for it to be a coincidence.
No, wait, we already knew about those, Meiyao sent him. But—there was never more than two in a year. Ask her if that’s changed.
“How often do these disappearances happen?” Jieyuan asked.
“Initially, only once a year or so,” the elder said. “However, shortly after the revolution eight months ago, Liangshibai started disappearing at a rate of once a week. Over the last few months, that number has only increased; right now, the disappearances are averaging one per day.”
“And Qingshi’s trying to… what, stop it?”
“Yes, but with little success so far.”
“Even though he’s an Orangesoul,” Jieyuan said.
“Even though he’s an Orangesoul,” the woman agreed.
“Do you have information on how it’s happening?” Jieyuan asked.
“We have been unable to determine it.”
Funny how bad news has this way of getting worse. They’d only meant to get confirmation that the Liangshibai were indeed safe, that the house arrest Qingshi had supposedly put them in wasn’t some force.
This was way more than he’d bargained for.
“What else do you know about the situation?” Jieyuan asked.
“Little,” the elder admitted. “Luoyefen Taishou, the head of the Justice Bureau and who’d been leading the investigation on the disappearances, went missing during the revolution. We are unsure if that might be related.”
Right. Sovereign Aoxin mentioned he’d disappeared. Jieyuan’s thoughts lingered on that for a moment. Back when Meiyao had told him about the disappearances, it had been shortly after a rather suspicious meeting with Elder Taishou. They’d wondered, back then, if Elder Taishou might be in some way related to those disappearances.
That the man had gone missing right before the disappearances ramped up… Was that just a coincidence?
Meiyao’s voice sounded in his mind again: Ask her what Liangshibai, specifically, have disappeared. If she has a list.
Good question, Jieyuan said. He repeated it to the elder almost word for word. Maybe he needn’t have worried about Meiyao’s discretion after all.
“We do,” the elder said, before reciting a long list of names. They’d been gone for almost nine months, and more than a hundred Liangshibai had gone missing in that time.
Jieyuan was glad to find he didn’t recognize any of them. There was one, though. A name was missing from that list.
That’s not right, Meiyao sent him. What about Yongyi? Aoxin said he was gone, too.
Jieyuan took a moment to formulate the question, then asked, “None of the head family has disappeared, then?”
“Not in the same circumstances,” the intelligence elder said. “A few Liangshibai also went missing during the revolution. The sect leader’s son, Liangshibai Yongyi, is one of them. But we believe that is unrelated to the disappearances that took place in the Liangshibai compounds afterward.”
“Based on what?”
“Twenty-three cultivators, across the four local cabals, were declared missing in action after the offensive launched by the Xiyunfeng Clan and the Gleaming Nobles. That is normal for such events; the numbers are within the expected range given the scale of the conflict.”
“I see.”
Jieyuan gathered his thoughts. The Liangshibai disappearing like that meant Meiyao wouldn’t be willing to postpone taking action until they were more powerful. There was no way Meiyao would even consider cooperating with Qingshi, either, even if he was seemingly protecting their family right now. Not after what he’d done to Palace Head Yiming.
Meaning that now they needed to know as much as possible about just what they’d be going against.
“Tell me about Qingshi,” Jieyuan said. “Everything you have on him.”
The intelligence elder nodded. “Three thousand orange prisms.”
All the mercantile bones in Jieyuan’s body cringed. As much as a high-sign prime Orangesoul artifact. Still, that might be good news; if they were asking for that much, they must have plenty of information on him.
“Deal.” Normally, he’d have tried to haggle, but this wasn’t the time or place for that.
“Liangshibai Qingshi, formerly known as Dajinzhi Qingshi, is an Orangesoul and the current sovereign protector of the Gleaming Stone Sect, having usurped the position after enacting a coup together with the Gleaming Nobles.”
Jieyuan nodded. “What about his exact soulsign?”
“Tenth-sign Orangesoul.”
Jieyuan froze.
“Rot,” Meiyao murmured.
“You’re sure?” Jieyuan asked.
“Absolutely,” the elder said. “One of our Orangesoul elders has personally confirmed it. Qingshi is unusually powerful for an Orangesoul; he’s effortlessly killed all the Orangesouls the Restless Flame Sect has sent after him.”
“He… He what?” Jieyuan asked, uncomprehending. “He’s not with the Restless Flame Sect?”
“Not at all. It was the Xiyunfeng Clan who brought them in; a Xiyunfeng recruited by the Howling Lightning Sect nearly a century ago cooperated with the Restless Flame Sect, sabotaging the Howling Lightning Sect’s defenses, which enabled the hostile takeover.”
Jieyuan just stared at the elder, wordless. He wasn’t sure what was more impressive: what he was hearing or the depth of the information the Mysterious Night House had.
“Their agreement was that the Restless Flame Sect would, in turn, help the Xiyunfeng Clan take over the Radiant Gold District. The two Orangesouls they sent during the day of the coup were killed by Sovereign Qingshi after they took the Howling Lightning Sect envoy. A week later, the Restless Flame Sect then sent a squad of five tenth-sign Orangesouls to deal with him; Sovereign Qingshi dispatched them so cleanly there was very little evidence of their battle.”
This was Qingshi. The man he, Meiyao, and Daojue had fought—and defeated—back in the Gleamstone Valley. This couldn’t be true. No way.
“As they’re already struggling to suppress Howling Lightning Sect insurgents, the Restless Flame Sect has since decided to write off the Gleaming Stone District. Sovereign Qingshi now rules uncontested.”
Rotting Heavens.
“Then— Then how did Qingshi even become an Orangesoul? Where did he get his hymns from?”
“Everything indicates he manifested them himself; given how little time he took to reach tenth-sign Orangesoul, we estimate his true heavenly affinity is at sixth-order. With sufficient luck and dedication, that should have enabled him to divine a full set of Orangesoul hymns within the span of two years.”
“Sixth-order?” Jieyuan recalled something; last he’d heard, Qingshi was a Metalsoul, with third-order heavenly affinity. But if he were a Liangshibai, he should have been a Crystalsoul. “How did he hide his heavenly affinity in the sect’s entrance exams? I thought that wasn’t possible.”
“Before he joined the Gleaming Stone Sect, Qingshi worked for two years as a blacksmith’s apprentice. We understand that Qingshi, as a mundane, managed to learn about Concept pursuit and the particularities of the Gleaming Stone Sect’s entrance exams.”
Blacksmith. Right. Jieyuan could also recall something along those lines. Rumors he’d heard, back in the sect. It was supposedly how Qingshi had lost his eyes, in an accident while working in the forge.
“We believe Qingshi pursued Metal during his time as a blacksmith’s apprentice. When he took the Gleaming Stone Sect’s entrance examinations, they tested his Metal affinity; since it was revealed to be third-order, and it’s very rare for mundanes to have any prior experience with Concept pursuit, it was assumed that Metal was his alignment and third-order was his heavenly affinity.”
And they wouldn’t have tested Crystal, his true alignment, because only Liangshibai are Crystalsouls, and they would’ve had no reason back then to believe Qingshi was one.
Jieyuan had done some research on his own before taking the Gleaming Stone Sect’s entrance exams, but what Qingshi had pulled off… Qingshi had joined the sect at eighteen, just like him. He must’ve been plotting all of this since before apprenticing as a blacksmith. From sixteen, if not even earlier.
Heavens, that’s insane.
“Just…” Jieyuan gathered himself, tried to put his thoughts in order. “Just where did Qingshi even come from?”
“Sovereign Qingshi’s father is Liangshibai Yiming. Dajinzhi is the surname of his mother, a mundane who worked as a jeweler in one of the Gleaming Stone Sect’s businesses here in the city. Liangshibai Yiming was well known for his… indiscretions. We’ve investigated the matter; the two had sexual relations on several occasions over the period of a year. Qingshi was born not long after.”
“Did he know about Qingshi?”
“No,” the woman said. “He ended their relationship after he was called back into the sect; he was temporarily removed from his position as palace head after a disagreement with some of the sect’s protectors. Qingshi was born while he was outside the city. As we understand, after he was reinstated as palace head, he did not meet with Qingshi’s mother again.”
“Qingshi’s mother. What happened to her?”
“We are… not clear.” Here, the intelligence elder actually sounded a little frustrated; Jieyuan didn’t know how much of it was an act. “She was a private woman, and we only dedicated resources to investigating Qingshi recently, after his revelation as an Orangesoul. The woman supposedly died shortly after Qingshi’s thirteenth birthday. The cause of death was a fatal fall down a stairway. We have reasons to suspect Qingshi murdered her.”
Heavens, he’d started at thirteen?
“What reasons?” Jieyuan pressed.
“Qingshi lost his eyes at the age of ten. It was, supposedly, an accident. There were rumors, however, in the circles Qingshi’s mother was in that the woman was rather… unstable. And that Qingshi suffered under her care.”
Eleven. So it wasn’t an accident in the forge? He was blind before he became a blacksmith?
“You think… You think she, what, took his eyes?”
“That’s our working theory. We suspect he blames his father for his treatment at the hands of his mother, and that this was the motivation for his revenge.”
What a mess. Jieyuan didn’t even know where to begin here.
“That is the extent of our information on Sovereign Qingshi,” the intelligence elder said. “Is there any other topic you’d like to inquire about?”
Jieyuan frowned. Nothing came to mind, but he was still reeling from all the revelations. Meiyao?
No, her voice sounded quietly in his head.
“Just one thing. Where is Qingshi right now?”
“In the seat of the Gleaming Stone Sect. He hasn’t left since he took over.”
“All right. Well, I think that’s—”
“What has become of Sovereign Path City’s Tianzijun Clan?”
Jieyuan whipped his head in Daojue’s direction. Beside him, Meiyao did the same.
Daojue’s head was slowly tipped down, his eyes fixed on the intelligence elder.
Sovereign Path City’s Tianzijun Clan? This was the first time Jieyuan had heard of that.
“Ah.” Something about the intelligence elder’s voice told Jieyuan she wasn’t particularly surprised by the question. “That will be… fifty orange prisms.”
Orange prisms. It meant this was also an Orangesoul matter.
And unless Jieyuan was mistaken, this had to do with Daojue’s mysterious origins. The problem was, now the woman would have very little doubt about just who they were—if she hadn’t already figured it out, given her lack of surprise at Daojue’s question.
“I’ll pay it,” Jieyuan said. Gold’s already out of the purse, anyway.
Meiyao, do you know about this Sovereign Path City?
I’ve heard of it. It’s supposedly on the other side of the island. It’s a Redsoul city, Meiyao answered. Her doubt was conveyed through the mind-link. I don’t know much. Nothing about its cabals. But… I think I recall something about its name changing, not too long ago.
“The Tianzijun Clan was exterminated by the rogue Orangesoul Gaofengzhi Zhuoji, fugitive of the Soundless Wind Sect, nearly two years ago. The Chiyanhao Clan has since then taken over the city and district, which were previously controlled by the Tianzijun Clan. It’s now called Crimson Flame City. We have reason to suspect the Chiyanhao Clan might have been involved in the killing of the Tianzijun Clan.”
The woman paused. “Supposedly, however, two Tianzijun escaped the massacre through unknown means. The son of the clan’s patriarch, Tianzijun Daojue, and an unnamed protector of the clan.”
There was a meaningful note in the woman’s voice. She definitely knew who they were now. No doubt about it.
Rot.
And the things she’d said… So the Tianzijun Clan had been a local Redsoul clan, which was exterminated? What was its relation to the Bluesoul Tianzijun Clan, then? And what had happened to this protector who’d supposedly escaped together with Daojue?
“Where is Gaofengzhi Zhuoji now?” Daojue asked. His voice was as cold as death.
“Information about the Orangesoul Gaofengzhi Zhuoji will cost you a thousand three hundred orange prisms.”
“Accepted,” Daojue said.
The elder nodded. “He is currently in Gleaming Stone City.”
Silence fell over the room. Jieyuan wasn’t sure if he’d only imagined the amused note in her voice.
Then Daojue said, with quiet intensity, “He is here?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Together with Chiyanhao Huifen. The two of them have been tracking down Tianzijun Daojue and the unnamed protector. Shortly after the revolution, they arrived at the city after learning a violet-eyed man named Tianzijun Daojue had become a cultivator of the Gleaming Stone Sect. Despite the rumors of Tianzijun Daojue’s death, they have yet to leave.”
Heavens, like the whole thing with tenth-sign Orangesoul Qingshi and the disappearing Liangshibai wasn’t trouble enough.
Apparently, they had another Orangesoul to worry about.
Jieyuan couldn’t even say he was surprised Daojue hadn’t bothered hiding his identity even though he must’ve known he’d be hunted down. If anything, he’d have been more surprised if Daojue had been sensible enough to have been using a fake name all this time.
Daojue said nothing, apparently satisfied. If a new Orangesoul was going to come knocking, though, Jieyuan needed to know more.
“This Orangesoul, Zhuoji,” Jieyuan said. “What soulsign is he at?”
“First-sign,” the woman said.
All right. That’s… not so bad. Not good, but it could be worse. Qingshi-worse.
“You said he’s in the city. Do you know where he is right now?”
A pause. “He’s just left the building.”
He attended the auction, Jieyuan realized. He might have even been in the booth across from theirs. Heavens.
Suddenly, he was glad Daojue had brought this matter up, after all, because Jieyuan would’ve had no idea otherwise that they had an Orangesoul on their tail.
“And this Chiyanhao Huifen with him,” Jieyuan said. “He’s a tenth-sign Redsoul?”
“Yes.”
All right. Still manageable.
“Back to the Orangesoul, Zhuoji. He’s a fugitive of the Soundless Wind Sect?”
“Indeed.”
“And they haven’t tracked him down yet? Even though the Mysterious Night House clearly knows his status and could’ve found out through you at any moment?”
The elder shrugged. “He’s merely a first-sign Orangesoul and unlikely to advance any further. Moreover, the only crime he’s guilty of is desertion. The Soundless Wind Sect will capture him if the opportunity presents itself, but to them, he’s not worth the hundreds of prisms that information on his location would cost.”
“Hmmm.“ It sounded like an anonymous tip might go a long way, then. He would have to look into that. “Do you know why they’re after Tianzijun Daojue and this unknown protector?”
“No. We suspect, however, that it is related to the mysterious means through which they escaped the massacre.”
He’d have to check with Daojue later, then.
“One last question,” Jieyuan said. “If, say, those two came here, asking if you knew anything about Tianzijun Daojue’s whereabouts, and you had recently come into that information, would you tell it to them?”
“Hmmm.” He could almost see the woman’s smile behind her mask. “I’ll answer that for free. In that entirely hypothetical scenario, we most certainly would do so. We are not allowed to disclose any of our private dealings with our clients, but I’m afraid any extraneous information we might glean through the aforementioned meetings does not fall within our privacy policy.”
It was exactly what Jieyuan had been afraid of. Granted, even if the woman had said otherwise, he wouldn’t have believed her. Still, it was good to know just where they stood. If nothing else, he appreciated the honesty.
“I see.” Jieyuan opened his glyph-stretch pouch and started counting out the prisms. They’d come bound together in little stacked cubes of hundreds, and he piled them on the table, one by one. “We’ll just pay and be on our way, then.”
They had to get out of the city, and fast.
Comments
Ate_Without_Table
Great username, previous commenter. Tftc
Kentucky Fried Children
Tftchapters
