Chương 24: Chapter 23: THROUGH THE HEART

" The smugness in Meiyao's voice was practically palpable. The tip of Meiyao's saber hung just in front of Jieyuan's right eye, like a blurry little dot. Close enough that if he blinked, his eyelashes might brush against it. He was on the floor, half-sitting, half-sprawled, Meiyao having knocked him back during her most recent onslaught. Jieyuan sighed.

"So I am." Meiyao pulled her saber back and extended her hand out. He grasped it, and she pulled him up to his feet. Both their hands were uncovered. There was no point in wearing armor while sparring with first-step weapons.

"You're getting better," Meiyao said.

"You almost got me there, near the end." He could clearly recall that moment: the blade of his spear had been just inches away from Meiyao's stomach when she'd suddenly dodged and brought her saber down, deflecting it. What came next was a flurry of strikes that had, quite literally, swept him off his feet." Almost." Jieyuan tried not to sound bitter. He really did. But he'd had way too much of almost as of late.

"I almost got you a dozen times already, but that's where it always ends at. Almost." Meiyao smirked.

"Who said I wasn't getting better too?" And wasn't that just the thing? Jieyuan looked away from Meiyao, casting his gaze around the training room. They were in the middle stage, and two of the other stages were currently occupied. Yongyi was on the platform over to his right, fighting with another core disciple. They'd been at Radiant Gold City for ten days already, and he'd sparred with Yongyi almost every day so far, with the core disciple only restraining himself to fifth-step.

Still on that first day, after Yiming had left and he and Yongyi had their talk, Yongyi had released his mantle to fourth-step, and they'd sparred again. Jieyuan had won, even if barely. So Yongyi had gone for fifth-step, and Jieyuan had been soundly beaten. For their following spars, Yongyi had stayed at fifth-step—at Jieyuan's request—and now, ten days later, though Jieyuan hadn't managed to win yet, he was lasting longer and longer against the core disciple.

Returning his attention to Meiyao, Jieyuan saw that she'd turned slightly to the side, looking in Yongyi's direction. Her eyes were narrowed, lips drawn into a straight, thin line. On their third day here, Meiyao had banged on his door, revealed she'd gotten wind of his sparring sessions with her brother, and that she wanted in on it—though she made a point they would be without her brother. In their first session, she beat him. Same for the next one. Same for all the ones that followed.

Against Yongyi, Jieyuan was clearly making progress. Faced with Meiyao, he seemed to be going absolutely nowhere. It was just as Meiyao had said. She improved as much as he did with their sparring sessions, if not even more so. As far as he knew, he was the only one she sparred with, whereas he had his spars with Yongyi and his simulations against Daojue. She was still avoiding her family, Yongyi included, and so far Jieyuan hadn't seen her so much as talk with anyone else here.

He was chasing a goalpost that moved away as fast as he advanced on it. As he looked at Meiyao now, it wasn't the shape of her that he focused on. Rather, he recalled the way she moved, the way she fought—the way she overwhelmed him. And it boggled his mind how Meiyao kept beating him. It wasn't just a matter of skill and instinct like it was between him and Yongyi. He replayed in his mind's eye the last few moments of their spars, how her saber had turned into little more than whirring streaks of silver.

Meiyao did have him beat skill-wise, but not enough to explain the difference between them. Rather, she was just plain faster, plain stronger, even though they were at the same step. In fact, if he didn't know any better, if he didn't have his soulsenses, he'd have been surprised to learn that she wasn't at fourth-step.

He had known for a while now that Meiyao was something else—since the day she'd soundly beaten him, months ago, in the sect's entrance trials—but sparring with her like this over the last few days had really driven the point home. Meiyao was borderline inhuman. And then Jieyuan was thinking back to Daojue's fight against fifth-step Qingshi back in the Gleamstone Valley. If Meiyao verged on a fourth-step's parameters, Daojue was firmly in fifth-step territory.

Meiyao might be borderline inhuman, but Daojue was outright inhuman. Jieyuan had entertained the possibility that the two had a bondskill that augmented their physical attributes further, but that struck him as too simple, too underwhelming a bondskill for them to have. Even more so in Meiyao's case, as what he'd seen so far hinted at a power that caused her to radiate a green glow and another that had to do with that red haze. No, it wasn't a bondskill.

Either there was something about their mantle—their soul—that augmented their body further than should be possible, or there was something about their body that made them naturally far stronger and faster than what should have been possible for a human. Meiyao turned back to him.

"We're done for today?" Jieyuan felt around his mind, pushing forward the idea of an imbuing session. He felt just the slightest bit of apprehension at the thought—meaning he'd be ready for one in just a couple of minutes. Ready for another lovely little dose of mortal, mind-breaking pain. He had little time to waste. At his current rate, he should make it to fourth-step Redrealm nine days from now, on the nineteenth, right before the start of the Summit tournament.

"Done," he said.

"I'll put them away." Meiyao extended her hand, and he handed her his sparring spear. She hopped off the stage and made her way over to the rack at the end of the sparring room. He watched her go. Now that he was paying attention, he found that even the way Meiyao walked stood out. She glided across the floor effortlessly, stalk-like, purposeful. She walked past Yongyi's stage without a glance her brother's way, replaced their sparring weapons on the rack, then made her way back. Jieyuan got off the stage.

Meiyao reached him, and they made their way out of the training room together. They walked back to their rooms in companionable silence. They passed a couple of disciples on their way back, core disciples and inner disciples alike. He really only left his room to spar with Meiyao and Yongyi, and he only did so when taking breaks from imbuing. From his talks with Yongyi, though, he'd found that the same couldn't be said for the other disciples.

Everyone else, Yongyi included, had to push themselves to spend over an hour imbuing per day. In fact, they'd often go for several days without imbuing. And all the disciples gathered here in the palace were the best, most dedicated disciples the sect had taken in the last five years. He'd run the numbers, so he'd known that others didn't spend nearly as much time imbuing as he did.

That was why he was nearing on fourth-step after having been a cultivator for just a couple of months, whereas other disciples—even the best the sect had to offer—took years to reach that point. But it hadn't really sunk in how much others struggled with the First Pain. Yongyi himself had admitted it took him weeks after reaching the end of a step to prepare for his breakthrough to the next one—to prepare for the Second Pain. Of course, he wasn't the sole exception to that.

Jieyuan looked at Meiyao out of the corner of his eye. She was just as much of an anomaly as he was in that regard, if not more so. She hadn't broken through to fourth-step yet, but she'd told him just earlier today she'd likely be going for it tomorrow. He was a little behind her, but only by a couple of days. And then there was Daojue.

Jieyuan hadn't seen even a shadow of the man since they'd arrived at the palace (apparently, he hadn't stepped out of his room even once), but Jieyuan wouldn't have been surprised at all if he'd already broken through. Just another way Meiyao and Daojue were ahead of him. Though, thankfully, the chasm between them in that sense wasn't nearly as great as it was when it came to combat.

Reaching the residential wing of the palace where the disciples were housed, they went up the flight of stairs until they were in the corridor with their apartments. They reached the door to Meiyao's rooms first, and Jieyuan halted his steps for a moment. Normally she'd give him a brief nod, and he'd nod back. She'd walk in, and he'd continue on to his room, just a door down from hers. Coming to a stop in front of her door, instead of nodding, Meiyao gave him a considering look.

But then her expression relaxed, and she said, "Same time tomorrow?" Slightly confused, Jieyuan nodded.

"Sure." Without another word, she entered her apartment, closing the door behind her. Jieyuan stood staring at her door for a few moments longer. What had that been about? Nothing came to mind, and he continued on to his room. He made straight for his meditation room, the leftmost door—sharing a wall with Meiyao's apartments.

Though all that mattered in the room was the plush cushion in the middle of it, it still managed to be extravagant, with thick, elaborate curtains over the large set of windows, with shelves on the wall filled with jadebooks on Concept pursuit and Heavenly Communion that he'd briefly skimmed through before. There was also a small, altar-like cabinet in which all sorts of gemstones, as well as gleamstone, were on display. Some Liangshibai thing, he imagined.

The windows were all covered, and the gemstone light on the ceiling was unlit. The only source of light came from his bedroom, across it, which had its windows open. The faint, warm scent of sandalwood filled the room. Jieyuan plopped down on the meditation cushion, closing his eyes, entering Heavenly Communion. He got right to it, leaving himself no space for hesitation. The time spent on their walk back had been enough to get him in the right shape for imbuing again." Ravenous." And it began.

His soulprism falling apart, his imbued chroma spreading like a cloud throughout the center of his soul, and then penetrating the walls of his soul. Pinpricks of pain, growing into stabs, growing into sears, growing into glorious, blazing agony.

It spoke to how unimaginably great the pain was that, some time later—it could've been seconds, it could've been hours, it was impossible to tell while imbuing—that it took Huaxin's cry of pain, cutting through his own, burning agony, to make him snap back into reality, stopping the chant, breaking up the imbuing ritual. His senses returning to him, Jieyuan looked down—and in the dim lighting, he saw the blade of a sword peeking out of his chest.

His mind was still so scrambled by the First Pain—granted, the sheer, stumbling confusion he was in and Huaxin's formless cries of agony didn't help at all—that for a moment he just stared down, uncomprehending. Stared at his chest, stared at the half a foot of metal sticking out from the center of it, stared at the darkening cloth around it.

More awareness bled through, and he realized that there was a gauntleted hand around his mouth, the metal cold around his lips, and that there was someone behind him, their body pressed against his. And with his soulsenses, he saw that someone's soul and mantle. Both tenth-shade red. A tenth-step Redsoul. Jieyuan immediately whipped his head back, throwing his body out, but the tenth-step Redrealm had their other arm firmly wrapped around him, keeping him firmly in place.

Keeping him in place as their sword remained stuck inside his chest, bleeding him out. And stopping the Fatebloom Heart from doing its thing and regenerating. Jieyuan kept on struggling as his mind raced. He was fully aware now. As aware as he'd ever been in his life. He blocked out Huaxin's agony and ignored the pain coming from his chest. As he'd just gotten off the First Pain, it barely registered anyway. A tenth-step Redsoul was trying to kill him—and doing a fairly good job of it, from the looks of it.

He immediately discarded thoughts of why and how. He focused on the what now. Fatebloom Incarnation immediately came to mind. But before he could do anything, there came a loud, crashing sound, and dust filled up the room.

"Jieyuan!" Meiyao's voice. The sword slid out of his chest, sickeningly smooth, and the hand over his mouth and arm over his shoulders moved away. And so did the presence of the tenth-step Redrealm. Slumping forward, Jieyuan turned his head back and saw a dark-robed figure standing right in front of him, their entire body, from head to toe, wrapped in form-fitting black cloth. Their sword, crimson-slick with Jieyuan's blood, was held out in front of them.

Across from the assassin was Meiyao, her saber locked with the tenth-step's sword, a feral snarl on her face, blazing green eyes wide, wild. Past her was a large hole in the wall, opening up to what looked like her bedroom. Huaxin? Jieyuan thought, focusing on his connection to it, fighting back against his feeling of diminishing awareness. No longer blocking their bond, he could feel the Heart's agony. Blood was gushing out of his chest in great rivers. His vision was darkening at the edges. If …

If you could get on with your regeneration thing, I'd really, really appreciate it. And just like in the Fatebloom Woods, Huaxin's agony faded for a moment, and in their place came a single, overwhelming idea. REFUSAL. Jieyuan jerked back, and the drowsiness vanished, his vision sharpening up into crisp clarity. His heart hammered in his chest. His healed heart in his healed chest. He didn't waste a moment, jumping to his feet and turning around.

Expecting the worst, he took in the situation, ready to jump into the fray. Only, what he saw was Meiyao standing her ground against the the would-be assassin's blurringly fast barrage of attacks. Meiyao, who was only a third-step Redsoul and facing a tenth -step Redsoul. There was more than a threefold difference in step between them; Meiyao was good, but not to the point she could beat a cultivator experiencing time more than three times faster than her. And yet she was doing it.

But the reason for it had more to do with her opponent than her; the black-robed cultivator was not a proper martial artist. Only moments had passed since he'd started observing the fight, but that much was already clear to Jieyuan. The assassin's movements—attacks and footwork both—were rigid and predictable, utterly unskilled. If not for his overwhelmingly higher speed, the figure wouldn't have stood a chance against Meiyao. Still, though Meiyao was holding her ground, she wasn't winning.

And Jieyuan had already seen enough to take action. He stuck his left arm into his holder pouch and retrieved his spear from it before launching himself toward the black-robed figure. The assassin immediately turned around, blocking the spear thrust with their sword and pushing him back. That gave Meiyao all the opportunity she needed to sink her sword into their side, edge-first. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The assassin whirled around, snapping their sword toward Meiyao in a blur, but Jieyuan had already steadied himself, and he struck again with his spear, swiping the spearhead at their neck in a fine arc. As Meiyao leaned out of the way of the strike, the blade missing her by a hair's breadth, Jieyuan's spear cut into the assassin's neck. The spearhead cleanly cut through flesh and bone, and the black-wrapped head dropped to the floor with a shower of blood.

The black-robed body crumpled the next instant, falling between Jieyuan and Meiyao. Heart racing, Jieyuan stared at Meiyao. She was panting, the arms and sides of her topaz robes torn, baring bleeding gashes. Her face was still warped in a wild scowl, teeth bared, eyes a piercing green, fixed on the fallen figure. But then she looked up, her eyes landing on his chest. She blinked, her scowl vanishing.

"You—" Meiyao took in a deep breath. She straightened her back, her eyes clearing up. She glanced back in the direction of her room, then back to him.

"Change your robes. Quick." Jieyuan followed her gaze down to his chest. To the bloody gash on his robes and the unbroken skin it bared. He quickly produced another set of outer robes from his pouch, took off his current one, vanished the blood on him with a pulse from his cleanser ring, and hurriedly put on his clean outer robe, stuffing his torn one in his pouch. Meiyao, meanwhile, had kept her sword up, looking around warily.

He noticed, through the hole in the wall, another black-robed figure on the ground, slumped in Meiyao's room. Another assassin, clothed in the same way as the one who'd gone after him. And if they had been a tenth-step Redsoul like mine, they must've also been just as unskilled, if not more. Meiyao wouldn't have been able to kill them by herself otherwise.

Before he could ask what was going on, there came another loud, crashing sound, and Protector Yuyan rushed into Meiyao's room, ramming through its door, sword out, looking murderous—only to stop dead at the sight of them, staring at them from across the hole in the wall. Just behind Protector Yuyan were another two emerald-robed figures in elder's coats. Sect protectors just like her. Barely a moment later, two more protectors barreled into his room from the other side, tearing through the door frame, weapons out.

Just like Protector Yuyan, they came to a sudden stop upon seeing him and Meiyao. Meiyao let out a long breath, her saber dropping as her stepmother rushed over to them. —∞— Jieyuan observed Meiyao out of the corner of his eye, getting the distinct impression she was in a mood for murder. She'd already killed two people today, and he had this feeling she was currently considering adding to the tally. Her gaze was on Chief Junjie, her father; Jieyuan noticed her right hand twitch, inching for her saber.

They were all in the palace's underground conference room. Had only just arrived in it. The room was a large chamber under the main building. Its existence, Meiyao had revealed to him on the way, was a secret; none but the upper brass of the palace and the sect, plus some hand-picked servants charged with the upkeep of the palace's underground levels, were aware of it. Meiyao had said it was the most secure location in the palace.

Standing inside it, sensing all the overlapping inscribed fields encompassing the room—so many he could barely tell them apart—Jieyuan found he didn't doubt her words in the least. The walls of the chamber were sleek, solid sheets of steel, the ceiling sitting over ten feet above the floor. The room was rectangular, considerably longer than it was wide, with a large conference table that took up most of the room. The shelves lining the walls were stacked with jade slips.

Unlike virtually every other establishment the Liangshibai had a hand in, the only hint of their flair for gemstones was the diamond lights embedded on the ceiling at set intervals. After confirming that neither Meiyao nor Jieyuan were grievously wounded, Protector Yuyan and the other elders had escorted them to the palace's underground level through secret corridors in a hurry, crowded around them like bodyguards. On their way here, Jieyuan had caught Meiyao sending quite a few discreet looks his way.

He had no doubts about what had brought this on. His miraculous recovery. She'd seen him being stabbed. It had been a clear, killing strike, straight through the chest, through the Heart. But then he'd gotten up, good as new, and the only indication of the mortal wound he'd suffered was the blood coating his unharmed chest and torn robes. No way Meiyao would be forgetting that any time soon.

The moment they'd stepped inside the room, though, Meiyao's gaze had landed on her father, who'd been waiting for them inside together with several other elders. Just the same, her father had focused on her the moment she appeared. Jieyuan had followed the chief elder's gaze, running over the tears on her robes, the reddened wounds littering her arms, like he was cataloging it all. Meiyao hadn't taken his attention kindly.

She'd started glaring hard at her father, and even though Chief Junjie had already turned his attention elsewhere, Meiyao hadn't dropped her glare. If anything, it had only grown stronger. She looked like she was only barely holding herself back from lashing out. Seriously, just what happened between them? Jieyuan had heard many rumors about their fallout, but the specifics still eluded him. It wasn't his first time seeing Meiyao act hostile towards her father, but this was way more than usual.

Then again, she had just survived an assassination attempt. It could be her emotions were running hot right now. Jieyuan was feeling rather piqued himself, but he'd long learned to keep his temper in check. Seeing Meiyao was containing herself, even if only barely, Jieyuan turned his attention to the rest of the room. On the other end of the table, surrounding Chief Junjie, were all five of the high protectors that had followed them to the Summit. Right next to Chief Junjie was Sovereign Zhaoyong.

Jieyuan suddenly noticed that the wizened man was also looking over at them. At Meiyao, he realized, eyes narrowing. The sovereign protector made to stand forward but then stopped in place; a pained look flashed across his face. Jieyuan glanced back at Meiyao and saw that she had turned her glare to him. The man who according to her was her grandfather in all but blood. A flash of motion from Meiyao's other side caught Jieyuan's attention; Meiyao broke her glare, turning to look at Protector Yuyan.

Jieyuan's gaze dipped down, and he saw that Meiyao's stepmother had grabbed her wrist. Shifting his attention back up, he saw Protector Yuyan was giving Meiyao a deep, conflicted— entreating —look. With a barely audible snarl, Meiyao shook off her stepmother's grasp then crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall next to the door. She closed her eyes, like she couldn't be bothered with anyone here.

Protector Yuyan sighed but said nothing as she remained by Meiyao's side, all the while trading looks with Sovereign Zhaoyong, probably in a mind-link with him. Jieyuan took position on Meiyao's other side. To his right were Daojue, Yongyi, and Yunzhu. Two of the protectors that had accompanied them here remained just beside the door, whereas the others made to join the group at the front of the conference table, taking with them the three black-wrapped corpses they'd been carrying. Daojue had also been targeted.

After escorting them out of Jieyuan's room, the protectors had stopped in the hallway, whereupon they'd been joined by Yongyi and Yunzhu, both escorted by a pair of elders. And also by Daojue, who'd appeared with his own pair of protectors, a dead assassin over the shoulders of one of them. Daojue had been carrying Gleaming End when he'd stepped out of his room, the shroud around the blade darkened red. That hint of blood was the only indication a fight had happened; Daojue looked entirely unharmed and unruffled.

Even now, as he stood on Jieyuan's right, Daojue looked like business as usual, with his customary steely look on, the bloodied spear held to his side like a pillar. His assassin must've been just like mine and Meiyao's, Jieyuan determined. Tenth-step but utterly unskilled. Not even Daojue should've been able to kill a proper tenth-step Redsoul. Yunzhu was by Daojue's side, staring at him. Jieyuan would've frowned if he hadn't already grown used to that particular sight.

Yongyi was also there, next to Yunzhu, sending Meiyao constant worried looks that went ignored. Jieyuan still wasn't too sure what the situation between the half-siblings was, but it hadn't improved much these last few days in the palace. More protectors filed into the room, most of them making straight for the head of the table, gathering around the chief elder. Two of them stayed back, though; they stopped next to Protector Yuyan and began quietly talking with her.

The sect elders gathered at the head of the table seemed to be having some sort of discussion; the Liangshibai elders were mostly to the right of the table, with the non-Liangshibai on the left. Chief Junjie and Sovereign Zhaoyong were in the middle; as far as Jieyuan could tell, they were playing peacemaker between the two sides. Infighting? Jieyuan looked between the two groups of elders. Liangshibai and non-Liangshibai. Two factions, essentially. But what were they butting heads over?

Wasn't this meeting called over the assassination attempts on them? Before Jieyuan could consider it further, all the elders suddenly looked up, toward the door. Chief Junjie scowled; Sovereign Zhaoyong frowned. Just a beat later, the door slammed open, and Protector Wanxin stalked inside, saber out and bloodied, blue eyes alight and murderous. She had a large, bloodied tear on the side of her robe, revealing a stretch of skin with a gleamstone barrier over it, staunching the wound.

She stopped at the entrance for a moment, scanning the room; her gaze lingered briefly on Jieyuan and the other sect disciples with him. Protector Wanxin then shifted her attention to the head of the table. Elder Yiming rushed into the room, flanked by two more elders carrying a fourth corpse with them.

"Don't—" Jieyuan barely blinked, and there was a loud, ringing noise. Wanxin had appeared on the other side of the room, standing on top of the table, near the end, the blade of her saber striking a gleamstone barrier floating in front of a non-Liangshibai protector standing right next to Sovereign Zhaoyong. An older woman in sapphire robes. Sapphire. The color of high protectors. Elder Yiming was also on the table, standing behind Wanxin, hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her back.

All the elders suddenly had weapons drawn. Jieyuan's own hands reached for his spear, mostly on instinct, and he noticed the other disciples beside him doing the same. Even Yunzhu had taken her eyes off Daojue, looking fixedly at her mother, her sword drawn. Only Daojue kept still, as he'd been before, looking wholly unconcerned. The high protector seemed entirely unamused as she stared at Wanxin. The middle-aged woman had also drawn her weapon, a long, elegant sword, but she only held it to the side.

"Why, Heavenly Protector," the sapphire-robed woman drawled, looking up at Protector Wanxin, unflinching, "do my eyes fail me, or have you just tried to assassinate me?"

"Your eyes are working well enough, you chipped bint," Protector Wanxin spat. Elder Yiming kept trying to pull her back, but Protector Wanxin was having none of it, standing her ground as she held her saber out.

"Only, I was just returning the favor."

"Wanxin," Sovereign Zhaoyong called, voice low and threatening, "cease this at once."

"No, Sovereign," the high protector said, waving a hand dismissively, not taking her eyes off Wanxin even for a moment.

"That's a curious accusation Heavenly Protector Wanxin made just now. I'd like her to elaborate. And Palace Head, do unhand the heavenly protector. Your help is appreciated, but unnecessary. Should the heavenly protector insist on this folly, I'm perfectly capable of disciplining her myself." Frowning, Elder Yiming stepped back, releasing Wanxin, who pulled her saber back but remained standing at the edge of the table, staring down at the high protector."

Fascinating," Protector Wanxin said, the word thick with venom.

"If I'd known you were this rotting good of a mummer, I'd have spent more time with you old coots at the High Council. In your place, I wouldn't have been able to just stand there, uttering such nonsense, after sending out four assassins, only for all four of them to get killed instead."

"Why, Heavenly Protector," the woman said, raising an eyebrow.

"Do my ears fail me, or are you truly accusing me of orchestrating tonight's assassination attempts? And as if that wasn't a grievous enough accusation, those men are Unrecorded." The high protector nodded to a spot on the side of the room.

"You should know very well that such abhorrent practices are condemned by our sect." In the corner the high protector had nodded to were all four dead assassins. They had all been unmasked, including the severed head of the assassin that had gone after Jieyuan, revealing faces so deeply scarred they'd been rendered mostly featureless. Unrecorded … Jieyuan had heard of them even before joining the sect, though only rumors. Unrecorded. Cultivators raised in absolute secrecy as disposable, untraceable weapons.

Supposedly they were secretly raised by sects, recruited at a very young age and conditioned in such a way as to strip them of their sense of self. It's a real thing? Jieyuan had thought Unrecorded were something of folktale. The idea of reducing cultivators to such a state… He felt a pang of pity mingled with disgust at the sight of those scarred faces and what they represented. At least he now knew why the assassins had been such poor fighters despite being at tenth-step Redrealm.

Rumor had it that though the Unrecorded were deadly assassins, the conditioning they underwent greatly impaired their ability to learn martial arts.

"Oh, I'd put nothing past you lot," Protector Wanxin said. She looked from the high protector to Sovereign Zhaoyong.

"Father, you know I'm right. We already know the Gleaming Nobles are after those three— this was clearly their work." The high protector scoffed.

"It's already been established that those were rogue actors. The Geshihan and Fusongshi Clans have served the Liangshibai faithfully for ages. What would we even stand to gain from arranging the murder of those three disciples, and now you?"

"Trust me, I'm dying to know that, as well." Protector Wanxin turned back to the older woman.

"And if I have my way, I'll have you dying to tell me." The high protector scoffed again, but Wanxin ignored it.

"And I don't know what your angle is, but I know what you're after. The Gleamstone Depths. You jackals have always been after it, haven't you?" Most of the Liangshibai in the room frowned, but the high protector only smiled.

"Oh, Wanxin. If there's anyone in the sect with an… unusual… interest in the Gleamstone Depths, I believe it'd be your husband, Hall Head Taishou. No?" There was another blur of movement, and their positions had shifted—Protector Wanxin was now on the ground, close enough to the elder to kiss, the blade of her saber between them, a paper-thin gleamstone barrier just over the high protector's neck. Protector Wanxin had her back to Jieyuan now, but he could see the high protector's disdainful look.

"Don't you dare bring my husband into this." Protector Wanxin spoke so softly that Jieyuan barely heard it, and for how low her voice was, the threat in it couldn't be any louder. Jieyuan tensed. Before, he reckoned Protector Wanxin had been, at least in part, putting up an act. He hadn't interacted all that much with the woman, but he'd already formed a fairly solid impression of the sect's sole heavenly protector, especially given the rumors about her. She was known for being dramatic, theatrical.

This was different. Protector Wanxin was very much serious now. And clearly Jieyuan wasn't the only to have noticed that.

"Enough." Sovereign Zhaoyong's voice filled the room. When he had warned Protector Wanxin earlier, the sovereign protector had already been firm. Now, the tone he used left no room for anything else. This wasn't just Protector Wanxin's father speaking. This was the sovereign protector of the sect. The highest authority.

"Wanxin, disengage." If there was someone who could stand up to the sovereign protector, however, it was the heavenly protector.

"I don't think I will," Protector Wanxin said, not looking away from the high protector. Sovereign Zhaoyong stepped forward, slowly, and in the dead silence of the room, his footsteps echoed.

"Being a heavenly protector might afford you a great deal of leeway," he said, slowly, "but I'm still sovereign protector, and I'm still your father. You will disengage. This foolishness has run on for long enough." He came to a stop right beside Protector Wanxin. Sovereign Zhaoyong and his daughter were about the same height; in fact, Protector Wanxin might even be slightly taller. Still, he seemed to loom over her.

Protector Wanxin finally turned around, although she still kept her blade on the high protector's throat.

"You can't—""I can," Sovereign Zhaoyong said.

"And I am. So unless you'd like to challenge my authority—unless you'd try to win the position of sovereign protector from me— you will stop." For a long while, father and daughter stared at each other. Then Protector Wanxin scowled, and deliberately moved her saber away, sheathing it. The high protector watched on coolly, the gleamstone barrier over her neck vanishing. Protector Wanxin began walking away, to the Liangshibai side of the room, past Sovereign Zhaoyong.

After a few steps, though, she stopped, glancing back at the high protector.

"You sure are lucky Lianhua isn't here anymore, or she'd have killed you on the spot for sending someone after her daughter, and nothing would've been able to stop her." Then, although Jieyuan still couldn't see Wanxin's face, he could hear the smile in her next words.

"I still have half a mind to do it myself, but then again… I doubt you'll be able to handle the fallout anyway, once a certain party hears of this." A certain party? That caught Jieyuan's attention. The high protector's reaction was immediate: for the first time, her composure broke. She'd worn a smug, confident look all the while, even when Protector Wanxin had been holding her saber against her throat, but now the sapphire-robed woman seemed unsettled.

"Wanxin," the high protector said, "I don't care for what you do, but if you dare bring those madmen—""She won't," Sovereign Zhaoyong cut in.

"They will be contacted, as it'd be unwise to keep these latest developments from them, but I'll be the one to do so, and I'll ensure they understand the situation." The high protector nodded.

"Good. I'll trust you to convey the facts properly, Sovereign, because the last thing we need at this moment is a sect war." She sent a pointed look at Wanxin. Giving no indication she'd heard, Protector Wanxin kept on walking over to where Jieyuan and the other disciples were. She first exchanged glances with Protector Yuyan, who had yet to leave Meiyao's side, then gave Meiyao a brief, searching look, her eyes lingering briefly on her wounds.

Meiyao answered it with a brief nod, signifying that she was fine; Protector Wanxin smiled softly, then settled herself between Yunzhu and Yongyi, pulling her daughter in. The two, mother and daughter, began speaking softly to each other. At the head table, the elders resumed speaking, also too low for Jieyuan to make out anything. There was some lingering tension between the two sides of the table—the Liangshibai and the non-Liangshibai—but the conversations went on regardless.

Some of the elders moved over to the corpses of the assassins before moving back, and Jieyuan caught Protector Yuyan taking on a expression of concentration a couple of times, clearly in a mind-link. It wasn't long later that Chief Junjie stepped forward, taking his place at the helm of the table, the other elders spreading out.

"We've been unable to determine the origin of the assassins," he said, "or how they might have infiltrated the palace. Until the end of the Summit, Disciples Meiyao, Daojue, and Jieyuan will be housed in the elder's residential quarters, and whenever you leave your apartments, you'll be escorted by a pair of elders." The chief elder nodded toward them.

"Elder Yiming will strengthen our security measures to prevent a repeat of these events. Yongyi and Yunzhu, although you weren't targeted now, that doesn't mean you won't be in the future, so you'll also be housed in the elder's quarters and assigned an escort." Chief Junjie then shifted his attention to Meiyao; Jieyuan followed the man's gaze, caught the way it focused on her wounds again.

The tension in the room suddenly spiked; Meiyao stared murderously back at her father, like she was daring him to say something. He dared.

"And Meiyao, see to it that you have your wounds tended," Chief Junjie.

"We can't have you looking like anything but your best. You'll soon be presented to the Radiant Gold Sect, and a lot hinges on your engagement to Wujinyao Dayang." Jieyuan froze. Engagement? What? For a moment, Meiyao just stood there. Her mouth opened and closed.

"Are you– Are you—" She stared at her father in clear disbelief. And then sheer, unbridled rage took over her face. She snarled, nostrils flared, eyes wild.

"You— You rotting—" Protector Yuyan reached out, grabbing Meiyao's shoulder, but she shook it off." Rot you," she said, glaring at her father, who stared back at her, completely unmoved. Meiyao spun on her feet and stalked out of the room.