Chương 112: Book 2 Chapter 26: Departure

Two months sounded like a long stretch, but to cultivators, it could vanish in the blink of an eye. In the wake of the duel, several immediate changes unfolded, most of which suited Mo Jian and Bai Ning perfectly, given their plans to enter the court. The first, perhaps of little strategic importance yet carrying a certain emotional weight, was the arrangement they reached with Duan Cheng. By the duel's terms, all of his wealth had passed to Bai Ning, leaving him effectively penniless.

Every asset he owned, including the Golden Dice Gambling Hall, along with his numerous stakes in smaller businesses, now lay entirely at her disposal. Duan Cheng arrived the day after the duel, answering their summons. He did not come to grovel. That, at least, Mo Jian had to respect. Instead, with a stiffness that betrayed only a little unease, he surrendered everything and turned to leave, only for Mo Jian to stop him with an offer.

"…remain as the manager of the Golden Dice Hall?" Duan Cheng asked, his voice strained with disbelief. Seated beside Mo Jian, Bai Ning gave a small, entirely "helpful" nod. Duan Cheng glanced at her sideways, as though testing the sincerity of the gesture, before returning his gaze to Mo Jian.

"Why? Forgive my presumption, senior, but I doubt you bear me any goodwill. I assumed my dealings with Senior Wei had already ruined me in your estimation." Mo Jian, still seated, let out a faint scoff.

"Let's not pretend you're truly surprised. It's true, I neither like you nor would I choose you to oversee anything of mine under ordinary circumstances. But Bai Ning and I won't have the time to manage a business ourselves, not for long. Understand that this isn't a return to your former position, with the only change being serving me instead of Wei Shentong. Bai Ning remains the owner, and we'll appoint another manager to work alongside you. That should keep you from indulging in any…

creative accounting, while ensuring your experience isn't wasted." Duan Cheng fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he weighed the offer, carefully calculating the cost of refusal against the price of acceptance. Finally, he spoke.

"I assume this is contingent on me adjusting my business practices to suit your… preferences, senior, rather than continuing as I have?" Mo Jian raised an eyebrow, which was answer enough. Duan Cheng inclined his head slightly, accepting the unspoken response.

"And the secondary manager? I take it this is someone meant to watch me, rather than assist with the daily operations?" Bai Ning's lips curved into a smug smile, her satisfaction barely concealed.

"More or less. As for who it will be, that is going to be He Jianyu. He is another Core Formation cultivator. I'm sure he'll be… delighted to take the post."

"Delighted" was not the word Mo Jian would have chosen. When he had first proposed the idea, He Jianyu had grumbled with the unrestrained candor of a man who had apparently forgotten, somewhere along the way, that he was addressing a Nascent Soul cultivator.

"Managing a gambling hall," he had complained – no, lamented, with the gravity of a man suffering a genuine injustice – "is hardly what I envisioned for myself. A sect elder, perhaps. An instructor of promising disciples. Something respectable." Mo Jian had briefly considered offering the role to Zhao Wenhai instead, but ultimately trusted Jianyu's moral compass more. Besides, with his connection to Su Lianhua, he would be far more diligent in keeping watch over Duan Cheng.

Sometimes the most effective overseer was not the most willing one. He shelved the thought and brought his attention back to the present. Duan Cheng had recognized He Jianyu's name, yet showed little reaction. Instead, he shifted course.

"And my son?" There was a faint edge of steel in those three words, as though he stood prepared, quietly and firmly, to defend that point if necessary. Mo Jian's brows rose in genuine surprise. Beside him, Bai Ning regarded Duan Cheng with equal puzzlement.

"What of him?" Mo Jian asked, hoping the man was not about to request some position of authority for Duan Cai. From what little he had seen of the younger man, that would be… an extraordinary error in judgment. But Duan Cheng seemed equally caught off guard by their reaction. After a brief pause, his expression smoothed, and he waved the matter away.

"Nothing, forgive me, senior. I was operating under a mistaken impression." Before either of them could respond, he pressed forward.

"I would be honored to serve as co-manager of the Golden Dice Gambling Hall. I have invested considerable time and effort into it, so seeing it continue to thrive does please me. That said…" He hesitated, letting the implication linger.

"If profits are strong, perhaps there may come a day when I can buy it back from you?" Bai Ning hummed thoughtfully. Mo Jian leaned back, choosing silence. It was a fair question, and one they had already considered before this meeting. He was not in favor of it, but Bai Ning had brought up a good point, and had made it persuasively enough that he'd let her steer this particular conversation.

"About that," Bai Ning began, her gaze sharpening as it fixed on Duan Cheng, "I'm not opposed in principle. But money isn't what matters most. Tell me, how would you rate your ability to gather intelligence in the capital?" She continued before he could answer, voice measured.

"I've heard that gambling halls and red-light districts are uniquely positioned for such things. You must have some experience." Understanding dawned in Duan Cheng's eyes.

"I see. With your entry into the Palace, you want a way to keep your finger on the city's pulse." He nodded slowly.

"That can be arranged. It wasn't something I fully pursued under Senior Wei, nor a field where I hold particular advantage, but it is certainly feasible. If I reach out to the right contacts… we could form, or join, an information network and route its flow through the Golden Dice Hall." He paused, then added, "Is there anything specific you require, or shall I begin with a broader survey?" …

and so it went, former enemies sitting together at the same table (in a manner of speaking), in the dark (not really) striking bargains, testing boundaries, and laying the groundwork for what was to come. ……………………………………………………………….

"Do you really have to go, Big Sister Bai Ning?" Xiao Hua asked, her expression caught somewhere between misery and quiet rebellion. Beside her, Su Lianhua looked no better, though her words painted a different picture.

"To be invited to the Imperial Court is a great honor, one befitting senior Mo Jian and sister Bai Ning. They must go." Yet there was not a trace of excitement in her voice, only a subdued resignation. Already on her feet, Bai Ning drew herself up proudly, puffing out her chest like a peacock.

"Ah, the court simply had no choice but to recognize my brilliance. And I suppose Master was invited along as well, by association. She paused, as though generously allowing Mo Jian this small reflected glory.

"Naturally, I must go. Otherwise they might weep from sheer disappointment." Even Xiao Hua, who was only ten years old and already half-corrupted by Bai Ning's influence – with the other half still stubbornly intact – did not look convinced. She fixed her "Big Sister" with a flat, unimpressed stare, her expression managing to convey, with remarkable precision for a child, that she saw through this entirely.

Sensing the mood, and by now accustomed to Bai Ning's theatrics, Su Lianhua inclined her head with solemn agreement, only half in jest.

"That makes sense. Given everything you and Senior Mo Jian have accomplished, it would be stranger if you weren't invited. I've heard even renowned and respected officials struggle their entire lives for a mere audience with the court. It speaks to just how remarkable your achievements have been." Bai Ning basked in the comment. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"What's so great about the court?" Xiao Hua muttered under her breath, clearly determined to remain unhappy about the whole affair. Su Lianhua shook her head gently.

"Don't be like that. Even if the seniors are leaving, you can still spend time with Chen'er. And Lords He and Zhao will continue overseeing the mine."

"Who cares about Chen? He's a butthead," Xiao Hua declared without hesitation, with such conviction that Su Lianhua looked momentarily torn, caught between defending her son and consoling the girl, and managing neither. Bai Ning stepped in at once.

"Now, now, no need to quarrel. You and Su Chen are friends, aren't you?" she continued blithely, ignoring Xiao Hua's immediate attempt to deny it.

"Besides, we won't be gone forever. Once we've found our footing in court, I'll drag Mo Jian back here for a proper visit; the Kanchi Mine, the Flower Valley Sect, all of it. This is only temporary." She paused, and her expression shifted into something a shade more considered.

"In fact, I had briefly thought of taking you along, Lianhua, but on further reflection, it may be too risky." She exchanged a knowing look with Su Lianhua, who, despite her earlier composure, seemed quietly relieved to have escaped that possibility. Xiao Hua, however, seized upon an entirely different part of that sentence.

"Wait, why can't I come? I'm smart, and I already know a great deal about the Palace. My cultivation has reached the third stage of Qi Condensation. I could be useful!" Bai Ning shook her head immediately.

"Absolutely not. It's too dangerous. Perhaps when you reach Foundation Establishment, but not before." Xiao Hua's face flooded with indignation.

"But that's an eternity away! It'll take thirty years. Thirty!" She held up three fingers with great emphasis, as if worried her outrage might otherwise be underestimated. Su Lianhua's expression softened, tinged with both sympathy and something quieter.

"I was eighty when I reached Foundation Establishment," she said gently.

"To achieve it in less than half that time… joining a sect is already a great blessing in that regard." Bai Ning wisely chose not to add her own perspective. It had taken her less than a decade to reach that stage, assuming she counted from the moment she first began cultivating, which, these days, she rarely did. More often, it felt as though her true journey had only begun when Mo Jian took her in as a disciple. From that point of view… it had taken her barely three years.

With rare restraint, she decided not to share that particular uplifting detail. It would sound less like encouragement and more like blatant boasting. Xiao Hua, meanwhile, had been staring at Su Lianhua with undisguised shock, apparently fixating on a different detail entirely.

"Eighty? My teachers said that with proper guidance and enough resources, anyone can reach Foundation Establishment within fifty years. And I already thought fifty was unbearably long."

"It is long," Su Lianhua agreed softly.

"Cultivation has never been quick. I had no one to rely on but myself, which is why it took so long. But even for sect disciples, it still demands patience." She paused, then added, more gently still: "That's not a flaw to be ashamed of. It simply is the nature of the path." Bai Ning continued to hold her tongue, which was perhaps one of the more heroic things she did that morning.

In the Thousand Shattered Islands, her parents had each taken close to a century to reach Foundation Establishment, a timeline considered quite ordinary by those standards, even respectable in some circles. Su Lianhua, at eighty, would have been considered talented. Had she managed it in fifty years, the number Xiao Hua found so unbearable, she would have been called a prodigy.

The gulf between environments, between what resources and guidance could mean for a cultivator's trajectory, was stark, when you held the two pictures side by side. It was also, Bai Ning decided firmly, a thoroughly unhelpful tangent for this particular moment. She clapped her hands together with bright finality, her eyes lighting up.

"Alright, enough of that. Since this might be our last chance to spend time together for a while, let's do something fun. He Jianyu and Zhao Wenhai – those bores – dragged Mo Jian into giving them cultivation guidance, so they're all meditating away and wasting a perfectly good afternoon. We can do considerably better." She looked between her two "juniors" with the expression of someone who had already made the decision and was merely inviting them to feel good about it.

One of them immediately demonstrated why that label applied only to cultivation and little else.

"Should we not be overseeing the mine?" Su Lianhua asked, hesitantly but earnestly.

"After all, neither Senior He nor Senior Zhao is present at the moment, and Senior Mo Jian would not be pleased if we were to simply… neglect our responsibilities during his absence." Bai Ning, the officially appointed overseer of the mine by the Imperial Court itself, the woman who had recently written entire examination pages on the virtues of diligence and responsibility, regarded Su Lianhua for one long, thoughtful beat.

Then she waved her hand, as though brushing aside a very small and inconvenient gust of wind.

"Sucks to be him," she declared, without shame or hesitation. Her eyes were already gleaming with purpose.

"Now, here's what I was thinking. I saw this gorgeous purple silk in the market last time, and-" And so it went. By the time Mo Jian concluded his impromptu training session with his equally impromptu – and strictly temporary – disciples, the mine was calm, orderly, and conspicuously, almost comprehensively absent of its supposed overseers.

The workers continued their tasks with unremarkable diligence; a few glanced around occasionally and inquired after Fairy Bai Ning or Fairy Su Lianhua, with the mild curiosity of people who had already half-expected this. Mo Jian stood at the mine's edge in the late afternoon light and closed his eyes for a moment, a faint ache settling just behind them.

He was not, in the slightest, envious of the fact that they were all almost certainly wandering through the market at this very moment, unburdened by a single cultivational concern. That would be an entirely baseless and thoroughly slanderous accusation. He turned and walked away, and said nothing. ………………………………………………………

"Have you come to see me off?" Wei Shentong asked, his face set like carved stone.

"Naturally," Mo Jian replied, entirely unbothered by the other man's tone. The Heilongtan Spirit Pool lay dark and lustrous below them, its waters as richly deep as the finest aged wine. Sunlight moved across its violet surface in shifting ribbons, breaking into ripples of molten gold wherever the breeze passed over it.

Wei Shentong's pavilion, perched along the water's edge, was bathed in that same amber warmth, its dark wood transformed by the light into warm ochre, revealing a quiet and stately beauty that it kept carefully concealed the rest of the time. The two men stood atop the pavilion roof and watched the sun continue its patient climb. Below them, the spirit pool breathed and shifted, its colors merging in an endless slow spectrum of purples and blues, one shade dissolving into another before the eye could fully name it.

Overhead, Wei Shentong's jade canoe hovered suspended in the high air; sleek, elegant, and unmistakably his work. It was his famed wind-riding vessel, capable of carrying him across vast distances, in this instance, all the way to the Thousand Shattered Islands and back. For a stretch, neither man spoke. The silence between them was not uncomfortable. It was not comfortable either. At last, Wei Shentong stirred.

"Six months," he said flatly.

"Six months," Mo Jian echoed, equally indifferent in tone. Wei Shentong grunted, and this time there was somewhat less bite in it.

"By the time I return, I expect you to be firmly established in court. I assume you'll share whatever plan you're still concealing by then." Mo Jian was not surprised that Wei Shentong had seen through him. At this point, anyone paying attention could tell there was more beneath the surface of his actions. What did surprise him, slightly, was the bluntness of the question.

It carried an undercurrent of reluctant acceptance, an acknowledgment of the wager that bound them, of the ten years Wei Shentong would spend as his subordinate. And, if all went according to plan… if they managed to make contact with the princess…

"Sure," Mo Jian said after a moment's consideration. He found no reason to refuse. In any case, when the people from the Thousand Shattered Islands arrived, explanations would be necessary. Including Wei Shentong in that number made little difference. Wei Shentong nodded once, sharply decisive and final, as if that was all he needed.

"Then there is no point in lingering. Remember your words, Mo Jian, for when we next meet." Instead of stepping forward, he stepped upward, rising smoothly into the air as he made for his jade canoe.

"Wait," Mo Jian called. With a flick of his sleeve, a bundle of jade slips appeared from his storage pouch. Ignoring the flicker of irritation crossing Wei Shentong's face, he sent them gliding upward on threads of qi, where they hovered before him.

"When you meet Fan Mei, give these to her along with the token." Wei Shentong arched a brow, sweeping the slips into his sleeve before stowing them away.

"What are they? Hidden correspondence? Ciphered instructions?" Mo Jian snorted.

"Nothing so dramatic. Just ordinary messages, for quite a few people, in fact. My disciple and I are rather well-regarded in the Islands. We have people who think about us fondly." He paused, and added, with no inflection whatsoever: "Someone like you wouldn't understand." Wei Shentong's glare sharpened, as though he might set Mo Jian alight through sheer force of will. Mo Jian only grinned back, entirely unrepentant. Without another word, he turned and stepped into the jade canoe.

A pulse of qi rippled outward, brushing against Mo Jian's skin like standing too close to a blazing sun. The vessel shuddered, then steadied.

"See you in six months," Mo Jian called after him. He was nearly too late. By the time the words left his mouth, the canoe had already become a streak of jade green drawn across the open sky, a single brushstroke, clean and decisive, there for one moment and then fading as he watched. The horizon returned to stillness. Mo Jian exhaled slowly, feeling the pressure of the departing qi settle and disperse around him. That was the last of what needed doing. All the pieces were in motion now.

What remained was the simplest and most irreversible step: to answer the summons and enter the court. He found, to his own mild amusement, that he was looking forward to it. His thoughts drifted back almost involuntarily to that moment months ago. The world spread out below him and a distant pair of eyes, sharp and ancient, finding his across the span of half the city. A moment so brief it barely qualified as an event. A slow smile tugged at his lips. Time to shake your world a little, he thought. Immortal Emperor.