Chương 22: Chapter 21

The throneroom of Sable Lotus Palace was a sweeping vista of polished black stone. Impossibly thin pillars, each the size of a needle, filled most of the space with liquid strings of darkness. A colossal rendition of the Godless Night's sigil ran the floor in lines of rich, velvety crimson. The hall had no ceiling: foggy shadows running with silver were all that one could see. The majesty was undeniably there, but in a silent, echoing way.

The complex array of lines and curves carved on the stone that once made the whole hall pulse with spiritual energy was silent. The upper galleries, where dignitaries would stand to listen and watch, were empty. Even the Onyx Wing Throne, once brimming with power, was… spent, turned from a primeval artifact of roughly hewn stone into a curio out of an archeology museum. Wu Zetian wasn't totally opposed to the change: she appreciated the silence.

It didn't hold a candle compared to the sublime tranquillity of her Iron Blossom, but one could be appreciative nonetheless. Now, if only the people agreed with the notion. The Council members fell abruptly silent when she made her entrance—no need for Immortal-grade perceptions to have heard their bickering. And judging from the tension in the posture of some, they were well aware of it.

Wu Zetian kept her Qi to a minimum as she walked among the most powerful people of the Sect, accepting bows and greetings with hums and nods. His grandson waited beside the Throne, the boy looking a bit like someone had slapped him. His composure was strained, and something of how livid he felt slipped through as he greeted her respectfully. Ah, this brings me back, Wu Zetian thought, taking her seat. She wasn't bitter. On the contrary. Striding into boardrooms suddenly fallen silent felt like a homecoming.

The position she chose was premeditated, a mix between lounging and sitting that flaunted property just enough to have the world know that it was she who made the rules here, and others had to follow them. Smiling faintly, she let her gaze move from person to person. They were all there, the movers and shakers of the Sect, or, well, what passed for them at the moment. Xing Xing, with his dark charm and wolf-life courtesy.

He attended as Sect Elder and representative of the so-called Sages of Night, a loose coalition that grouped all the stonemancers of the Sect, charged with maintaining the arrays and formations that protected the Domain. Chen Liuwei. Tall, soldiery and gleaming silver. She obviously stood as the voice of the Hand of Night. These two were just obvious. The others… not so much. Speaking for the Scavenger Moon Guild, Xian Shi was the quintessential battlefield rat.

Old, grizzled, festooned with tools, charms against death-switch curses and measuring tools, he looked ready to enter a forbidden zone. With his mended clothes and scraggly beard, someone may have been tempted to underestimate the old dog. One look at the cold, discerning light in his eyes would disabuse any with some brain of the notion. Qin Fu spoke for the Blackflame Foundry. Hunchbacked and hulking, he had nothing of the beauty the great Path was supposed to impart on its practitioners.

Half of his face was a ragged mess of burn scars, and an oversized stony replica replaced his right arm. Two familiars – creatures dripping liquid darkness – fluttered around him on gossamer wings, alongside a strange, sooty smell. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue and had a distant look to them. Headmistress Chu looked the part of the Nighjar Wing School representative and, at the same time, did not. She cleared the solemn look, straight back and immaculate robes and hair.

Where she didn't fulfill the typical image was in how pretty and young she appeared. You wouldn't think she was older than twenty-five, let alone over a century. Also, Wu Zetian didn't miss the almost childish gleam in her eyes, like she was putting up a mask and enjoying it immensely. Finally, the guy who wasn't used to being there. Liu Bang spoke for the downtrodden, so to speak. The Mortal Corps, the Healer Brigades, the Maintenance Department.

The man had a squat build and an overworked mien, looking suspiciously similar to a mouse suddenly caught in the open. Wu Zetian felt a flicker of amusement. The man was never allowed in the council. His presence here was her explicit desire. He Yuan stopped beside the throne. An iron spear, intricately carved and ornate, appeared in his hand. When he thumped the floor with it, the whole hall seemed to ring like a bell.

"You stand in the presence of the Immortal Founder," he declared.

"Offer your loyalty." Nascent Soul and Core Condensation alike fell to their knees. They bowed deeply, cupping their fists and extending them forward.

"Our undying loyalty to the Founder! All glory to the Ancestor! May the immortal Night cover the Land in tranquillity!" Wu Zetian accepted the demonstration with a small nod. Inside, she was a bit… bored. She had no particular taste for this type of abasement. But they were useful for discipline and morale, so she would put up with them. Of course, it didn't blind her to the reality of things. These people may hold nominal power, but only two truly mattered. Which was a frightening thing, really.

"The Chen exist to serve the Sect and the mighty Founder," Chen Liwei said. Despite being a disciplined murmur, her voice carried effortlessly. There was a glimmer of breathless awe under all the poise, the recruit who finally met the hero she had looked up to since her first battle. Wu Zetian appreciated.

"General," she said, tilting her head slightly. Chen Liwei managed a stiff bow, a moment too slow.

"Our most glorious Founder," Xing Xing said, sweeping his arm as he fell into a grand bow.

"All our mighty arts, all our spells and curses and knowledge, all our ingenious appliances of death; they are all yours to command, and eager for your word." His smile had a hidden quality to it, an elegant savagery. Wu Zetian smiled right back. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The others introduced themselves in turn, and Wu Zetian offered each an acknowledgement.

Inside, she was already thinking, criss-crossing information she had acquired with what she saw. There once was a Head in charge of Spirit Fields and one coordinating mining efforts, but since the former were destroyed during the siege and the latter mostly stopped, there hadn't been time for appointing new ones. Another item for the agenda.

"Thank you," Wu Zetian said, smiling gently.

"For keeping faith and holding in the face of the impossible odds, I offer you my deepest gratitude." She let her gaze move across them, registering the minute ways they tensed, or waited with bated breath.

"Each of you has done his and her duty in my eyes, and so you'll be pleased to know that there won't be any punishments." That triggered a collective sigh of relief. It was a bit saddening how easily they took in stride that the Ancestor, whose far too long bottleneck had been the chief reason for the Sect's almost downfall, would be fully within her rights to punish them for failing to hold the line. It would be only fair for them to keep her as the only one responsible.

But, as Wu Zetian had long learned from her previous incarnation's memory, this world wasn't fair. Power was authority here, and her power was absolute. Before it, it was extremely easy to forgive and forget, even by those who were wronged. A lifetime of dropping justice squarely on one side would do that. She wasn't complaining, of course. Even in her previous life, partiality of judgment was a given. Still, she could appreciate the irony.

"Let us step into this renewed Night with a spirit of cooperation and brave hope. A blank slate for all." She let her gaze slide from one to the other.

"I have great expectations from all of you." They murmured their assent, none daring to raise his head. Wu Zetian appreciated. She could work with this.

"Grandson?" Wu Nenqin, looking a bit tense, nodded and stepped forward.

"The council of the Elders is officially open! We gather here under the Ancestor's august gaze to…" Wu Zetian mostly tuned out at that point. Blessed grandson. He tried his best, but she wasn't one for formality out of time. She took the time to send a tendril of perception looking for Wu Lin. The child was in one of the outer corridors, feeling quite disconsolate and alone. Wu Zetian hummed. That wouldn't do. Sending a particle of her Qi out, she had a few shadows take shape around her.

They appeared as a few diminutive clones of her, each wearing a white, blank mask. Grandma? Came the surprised question through the Night, filled with marvel and awe. It turned to childish glee as the clones started playing with her. Can't catch me! Squealed the little girl as she tumbled away, the shadows quick in pursuit. Wu Zetian smiled. Just then, Wu Nenqin finished his introduction and stepped back, a bit pale. He looked at there, and Wu Zetian nodded, giving him the floor. With that, the discussion was on.

Less than the normal ceremonies, from what she understood, but just right for the kind of private, getting-thing-done this council was supposed to be.

"For the benefit of the Ancestor, I shall reiterate my point," Wu Nenqin said, raising his voice in the firm, concise way only a young master could carry.

"At the moment, the Sect lacks the means to improve all industries in any meaningful fashion. In the face of such a state of things, it's my opinion that we should focus on rebuilding our basic industries." He paused.

"Like the honored Founder had already shown us." Mph, sneaky grandson. But I'll allow it. She had understood Xing Xing and her grandson were close. For all that, the Sect Elder didn't mince words.

"Indeed, the venerable Ancestor's efforts," a bow her way, "have assured that the Night will reap some basic bounty from the Domain, operations that will have to be enlarged and improved until they can offer the Sect a meaningful offering, but how long until such a thing is possible? It'll be a long time until the Sect possesses the necessary manpower, and self-sufficiency is far into coming. I advise that instead we focus on reigniting the Blackflame Forge and resume contact with the Empire in earnest.

In exchange for our priceless artifacts, the Dragon Emperor shall supply us with valiant cultivators and the trade with resources." Chen Liwei sniffed.

"You would call spies in our midst, Sorcerer? I stand against it!" The matriarch stood straighter.

"The Borderlands stand empty, do they not? And aren't the Night's soldiers strong and hardened by war? We could sweep into the empty strongholds of the invaders, slaughtered by the dark grace of the Ancestor, and raid them for both treasure and soul. Our coffers would swell and our ranks overflow."

"Indeed, with demonic cultivators poisoned or dying." Even Xing Xing's sarcasm had a refined bite.

"Having barbarians taking the black is just the right move for us to retain order."

"You dare to argue with the Ancestor's own decisions?"

"On the opposite. My words align with her will perfectly. Hasn't the Ancestor preached against the demonic with her edicts?" And so on, and so on. Wu Zetian followed the exchange with a small, intrigued smile. Simply put, there were three main ideas. The first, championed by her grandson, hung on caution. The Sect had to gather its forces, focus on rebuilding Qinghai and re-establish the old farming and mining infrastructure.

A slow approach since the whole province would have to be assessed and damage repaired, but also the safest since they could just look at their own. The second option was brought up by Xing Xing, and it revolved around trade and diplomatic overtures. Beyond the Umbral Basin, sprawled the Xin Empire.

Half ally, half dominant neighbor, the mammoth state had always entrusted the Godless Night with guardianship of its eastern flank, something made problematic by the fact that the savages of the east knew how to make their way through the Basin, while the men of the Empire did not. The Night-infused artifacts produced by the Blackflame Forge had always been highly sought by the Dragon Court.

By focusing on restarting production and building caravans, the Sect would rake in immense profits, both in terms of offered manpower and resources, which would then be used to finance their own rebuilding. A risky approach, since it opened the door to the Empire's possible influence, but also the fastest for raking up results. Then, Chen Liwei. The belligerent matriarch wanted to gather incursion forces and raid the Borderlands.

It was expected that by now the Wasteland would have started to encroach on the lands now left empty of their demonic protectors, but that also meant empty strongholds still filled with treasures and under reduced guard. Not to speak of the masses of slaves, mortal and not, that had fuelled the demonic Sect, and would likely be waiting for the first hand to come swooping in. A bold approach, more so in certain ways compared to Xing Xing's, but less in others.

The hardest nuts could be avoided, and even so, there would be a bounty to be made. The bigger risk would be about the possibility of losing soldiers now, when the Sect's forces were already at a low point. A risky investment, as they would say in her old world. Wu Zetian passed a finger on the Sun-Eating Serpent's head, the tiny creature bending around her skin. Each of the options was tempting, but they were also mutually exclusive.

The caravans would require protection, and the same for the works to rebuild the Province's infrastructure. Protection that couldn't be given if the Sect engaged its limited forces in raids. The Sect Elders couldn't be present in more than one place at the time, and raids in the Borderlands would require their presence just as much as diplomatic effort in the Empire. Both things she couldn't do, since her presence was needed to secure Qinghai from any naughty Immortal. What to do, what to do.

Of course, the unspoken objective of all the discussion was to put the Sect into a condition to survive a war against the beastkins and their two masters. Wu Zetian was strong in the heart of her power, but even she would struggle against two Immortals and their armies. What she needed was defensive arrays powerful enough that even an Immortal wouldn't dare to challenge them, and those could be built only with one hundred years of her lone effort, or a powerful, thriving Sect.

And a Sect couldn't be powerful or thriving without cultivators, a great deal of them. Which couldn't be obtained without a great deal of resources, which brought her back to her present problem. With that, she was appreciative. Back in her days, she had made the unpleasant acquaintance of idiots who would burn the house down for their profit.

Each of the options, especially those of the Sect Elders, was clearly meant to advance the influence of the faction they commanded, but they were also clearly thought over and weighed, for the benefit of the Sect. Ah, I am having far too much fun with this.