Chapter 172 - The Fourth Elder’s Sacrifice.

  They all thought they stood a chance. He knew the other Peaks had their own plans, even the rodents on the lower peaks tried to prepare. But none of them had sacrificed as much as he had. If they took it, it would be nothing short of thievery and deserving of death.

  “Fourth Elder. Lord Guo Yinjing is calling for you.”

  He turned back. The blindfolded girl who spoke to him was unfamiliar, another one of Pao Taoyi’s creations. A failed one given away for free. If it were any good, it would have been sold to him, not given to the masked fool that stood behind her.

  “I’m on my way,” Mo said, unable to hide his begrudging tone.

  “So you say. The Lord will know, Fourth Elder.” The masked figure spoke for themselves this time. There was a young voice behind the mask, but the words he used sounded like those of a man older than his grandfather’s grandfather.

  Blue mask vanished, leaving the girl alone to wander like a blind puppet.

  Mo tsked. He disliked the First Peak in recent days. There wasn’t a spot of grass, all grayish dirt, but he had grown used to it. That and the castle of a building. More like a fortress, a gray cube of stone, it was big enough and had its secrets. His own peak had been abandoned, all to dedicate himself to the Guo Yinjing.

  He sighed and looked back down, eyes penetrating clouds. It wasn’t just the First Peak that bothered him more often recently. All those down there, too. Missions and resources, gather and fight and practice… they would be better as puppets—that was as they should’ve been.

  On that, he and the Yinjing always saw eye to eye.

  The barren ugliness of the First Peak was covered up by decadence. It worked for the most part. A big enough statue pulled most eyes away from mining tunnels, passages, and pebble gardens grown thick with weeds.

  Most of all, the statue of the First Elder shooting fresh water from his hands. That fountain had degraded beyond recognition. It was better that way; it gave a false impression of the man who, the only water he could really shoot was piss.

  People scurried around, bowing to him as they passed with platters of food and weapons and robes and herbs. Most would go to storage. A few were morsels of temptation to bait little disciples to come and sit and obey. He didn’t care for the goods, but the people who retrieved and carried them would call him Fourth Elder, even though he was better than the others. Other than Yinjing, of course.

  He convinced himself once a day that what they called him didn’t matter. After all, the most pretentious man, or prettiest girl, would abandon all dignity and crawl into his bed for a Spiritual herb that he spat on. Some would shatter both their legs in a jump for spirit stones. But those games were done. Now he had puppets to make deals for. They didn’t need any pay or temptation at all.

  Just commands.

  The fact that the disciples, with their noses lifted and hands hidden in their sleeves, looked down at him didn’t matter when he thought that would be their fate. But the prideful few, were few. And far from the place he was going to.

  In the depths of the cube castle that dominated the sky, past the courtyards, where decorations were sparse but splatters of sweat and blood, Yinjing was by himself.

  The room was cold, quiet, and empty. Mist rose off the gray stone floor, smooth as porcelain tile, and fit in a pattern that made a tornado of white on black. At the eye of the storm was a thousand-pound cauldron. Gou Yinjing, in a black robe patterned with Drifting Stream blue that was everywhere, stood at the cauldron’s edge. He was tired of that blue.

  The robe was finer than any he had worn, and there were others, one unlike the rest, still hidden, each thread was placed, but it wasn’t done. There were enough such robes for him to get one as a gift. Since one was never offered, perhaps he could ask.

  Not today, of course… Never today.

  “It is not enough, Mo,” Yinjing shouted before the door fully closed behind him. “Come show me what herbs you have.” He demanded.

  The Fourth Elder jumped at the combination of the voice and the door at his back. He moved in a hurry, sliding in a silent shuffle. His face was scrunched in tension until he was closer.

  “Lord,” he chucked, “do you plan to take all I have?”

  His fake laugh was better this time, but it was always shaky when he approached Yinjing. It was hard to tell the First Elder’s mood. Not wanting to find out, he gave up his space ring like it was a piece of hard candy, and nothing more. The white jade slipped off his finger, into another’s hand.

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  “Oh, I just may, Mo.” The First Elder said, shaking the ring next to his ear, jokingly.

  Guo Yinjing had a dozen mysterious methods, most of which were unpleasant—unpleasant was the lighter word for them. Luckily, the Fourth Elder only had to experience one.

  Without permission or any action of his own, his space ring was torn into and searched. It felt like a hand he didn’t welcome was scouring his flesh and bones.

  The Fourth Elder turned away, tears welling. He had to listen to the sound of his herbs and treasure hitting the floor one at a time, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

  “This. You are poor Mo, one good thing, ONE, better than nothing, but I already added a Blood Fruit. Don’t you have anything more spiritually fortifying? All the boy can do is point daggers like some prancing harlot. He cries like a bitch, too. Your type of lover. If he weren’t your bastard boy, he would be in your bed even with the rotten tooth smile he got from you.”

  The Fourth Elder stayed silent. He waited for the shivers of having his soul being violated to fade, not that it ever really faded. He wiped his eyes and put on a stoic face.

  He turned back around to the red waxy fruit, no larger than a pomegranate, from the windy valley to the north, floating in the air. It was a shame to see it wasted. They would get more valuable since the Seven Swords Sect was put to the torch. And given to Bangcai, wasted was the only word he could think of.

  It splattered in the air, all the juice and flesh caught before it could scatter. The first elder pointed down, and it fell into the water.

  Mo went forward and looked down on the cauldron from the tips of his toes. The splash cleared just enough of the acrid vapor.

  Murky water with ten herbs floating on the surface as a brown slurry, more underneath added to the intense smell.

  “Won’t too many herbs dilute each other's effects?” The fourth asked.

  Guo Yinji smirked, “They could, but we could just buy some more. Right, Mo?”

  The First Elder endearingly tapped on his shoulder. White teeth shone under his thick brown beard. But the look in his eyes was that of a fish, as if there was nothing behind them. As the second after the smile faded, Yinjing broke away and lifted another herb from the pile of treasures that caught his eye.

  “Yes. You're right, Lord.” The Fourth said, staring on as his friend and equal dug through his belongings. He wanted to, but couldn’t say he needed that wealth on the ground.

  “This is it. This should be enough…” Yinjing said, clearly unhappy, “Someone!” he shouted.

  The tall man in his blue mask pressed open a heavy door, his steps silent until he pressed his fist to the ground.

  “You…” The First Elder clicked his tongue, “A gift you are, they said. Yes… When the boy loses consciousness, bring him to me.”

  The First Elder placed his hand on the side of the cauldron, reaching down to touch the water. It was already steaming, but now it boiled. Already a wispy yellow, the steam turned a tone darker, to a muddy orange that moved more like a cream than vapor.

  For every second he had to wait, Guo Yinjing made the water a degree hotter. Soon, the cauldron itself would glow orange.

  Luckily, it wasn't long before the boy was brought before them, slung over Blue Mask's shoulder.

  The boy wasn’t battered. But he had more cuts than teeth, and he was treated with care since all his teeth were still in his mouth.

  “How did he do this time?” Mo asked, stepping back to let Yinjing pass if he so wished.

  Blue Mask didn’t answer until the First Elder nodded. “This Young Lord is inexperienced. He fights well, but… He seems to fear any sort of counterattack, even if he brutalizes his opponent. The moment his opponent blocks one attack, he flees.” He flung Bangcai off his shoulder. The young man’s head bounced, halting the masked man’s words. “As soon as there is enough space, he sets himself up for another sneak attack. But his shaken state doesn’t go away until the fight is done or a new opponent walks in.”

  “Nonsense!” Mo shouted. But he took another step back when the First Elder, his Senior and Lord, flinched.

  “Perhaps he needs to rebuild his confidence…” Guo Yinjing mused, rubbing his own chin like there was a mosquito itching at him. “A hunt, maybe… How is the rebuilding of his hunting group?” He looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “The oldest of their group has been picky, but apparently it's because he wants to redeem himself with a big beast of a Bull. Some woman came with information about it.” Blue Mask rasped, but the First Elder had no interest in a languid tale. “The one who brings the report wants to join the hunting team for the information, her lover too; they aren’t bad, weak, but the Hunting Team leader says it's worth the information.”

  “Then… Why delay? Do it. Or don’t… It doesn’t matter what they hunt, boar, bull, or the girl, what's the difference as long as we can give the boy some blood to spill.”

  The room fell to silence. Guo Yinjing lifted the unconscious body the same way he lifted the herbs and treasures, the young wounded scab-covered body of Mo Bangcai falling into water as it bubbled, all but his arms sinking.

  With that, the First Elder turned away, “After another day of combat training with prisoners, I will take him to the peak layer of Reclamation. Have that hunting team ready before then.” He laughed, “Perhaps under my instruction, this one will reach the legendary layers that go beyond the peak of Reclamation. This time! This time! I will have a tenth-ranked Reclamation disciple.” He suddenly seemed certain, nodding as he disappeared from the room.

  “Don’t let him drown; if you do, it's your herb bath next.”

  The Fourth Elder stood alone, Blue Mask stood like a statue, and servants flooded the room. All of them tried, but none could reach into the water to pull up Bangcai’s head.

  “Move fools!” Mo shouted, stepping forward, he reached down into the water and gripped the boy's hair. “Servants grabbing a son of the Mo Bloodline.” So he said, yet he felt disdain as he looked down at the boy who had his features. “You’ll get stronger, even if it means you're a dog, not just for your Master’s sake, but mine.”