It seemed the Sect was about to move, a way to shift the balance of power.

  The timing lined up. Mo Bangcai’s guardian was rebuilding his hunting team. The First Elder suffered another humiliation because of his disciple. Bangcai’s plans failed, and his group of ten was reduced to three. The old demon was going to act out.

  Hao knew it in his bones. He could feel it like an ache. See it in his meditations. His fleshless corpse stared at him. It had been since the day the First Elder tried to obliterate him.

  The First Elder, Guo Yinjing. That was his last opponent as far as Hao was concerned. Pao Taoyi was just a bump in the road, a big one. But still just a bump, one he had to smooth eventually.

  All the odds were against him. No matter how he twisted it in his mind, he was hardly worthy of being called an Immortal, just a martial artist at most. He didn’t fear fire or ice, but he wasn’t the Forging Hall Leader who could control fire with his will.

  All he could do with what he learned at the library was Cultivate, and when the time came, fight. Li Tuzai said: “Whether you kill a dragon or a fly, the result is the same.”

  Hao felt like he was facing a Break Tide during his twelfth birthday all over again. He didn’t know what to expect, and failure wasn’t an option. He failed then. This time was different; failure again would be death. Not just for him, but for Meiqi, Zhengqi, and the world as he knew it, if the First Elder got everything he wanted.

  *

  Meiqi and Zhengqi were sitting facing away from each other when he entered.

  He tried to be quiet. Gathering the tense air before he took his first step inside. The cold followed him. Ruining his stealth as icy wind chased towards the warmth of the house over his shoulder.

  The fire flickered. Steam rising off the pot above the flames swirled like a contained hurricane.

  It was like a sauna inside. He stepped inside quickly and closed the door behind him.

  Both of them rose as he stepped inside. Meiqi, with the robe on, was already near the fire, but she stepped closer. Zhengqi had to turn, robe in hand. She stepped out in between the ends of their beds and his on the opposite wall.

  They gave a slight bow, not like their typical rehearsed one, a nod, “Thank you, Young Master… for the gift.”

  Both of them said it. Zhengqi’s lips moved a little fast, which earned her a glance from Meiqi. Zhengqi gave the stare right back. Mother and daughter held it, glaring at each other with the same look Hao saw in the Secret Realm when someone was going to attack him.

  Okay… Hao walked over to his bed. His shoulders brushed useless curtains as he hugged the wall, staying as far from that as possible. Before he got the chance to sit, he heard both their arms cross. Okay…

  “Young Master, would you like water prepared for a bath?” Meiqi asked, walking over the washbasin that still had a soapy sheen from their washing.

  “No, I’ll just let my robes dry overnight.” He took off his shoes and looked around. The windows were closed tight, and everything else seemed ready for the night. They were more than capable, taking care of themselves and him, but it didn’t hurt for him to check.

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  Meiqi unfolded her arms to place a fresh piece of wood in the fireplace, waving her sleeve above the flames.

  Zhengqi went to the opposite side of the fire. Shrouded partially by steam, she slipped off her dirty servant's robe. The same one she wore nearly every day. She maintained eye contact with her mother, but Hao could see the red on her ears in the fire’s glow. Finally, the silence was broken by her voice, her shy tone fighting to keep her quiet.

  “Young Master,” she said, fastening the new robe around her waist. “There was a rumor in the Medicine Hall today. The Elders might have an announcement tomorrow. Some people guessed it was for disciples to earn a place on the upper peaks.”

  Hao thought back, “I heard something similar from Food Hall. Someone said the First Elder might be planning something. They have yet to address the return from the Secret Realm too.”

  Meiqi wrapped her hands in cloth, reaching for the rim of the boiling cookpot. Before she grabbed it, she spoke.

  “Young Master, if you plan to get further involved with the Sect, I hope you stop worrying about mundane things. Focus solely on your cultivation.”

  Her eye contact broke twice, a rare event. Either the boiling water was just that interesting, or the unwavering Meiqi was that hesitant to speak about it. “A bunch of servants without a place to stay on the mountain will be pushed up here tomorrow…”

  With that, she broke her eyes from Hao completely. Last time a girl was murdered up here, why or who, back then, not a single person would speak a word to him.

  The pot tipped as she nodded to Zhengqi. Water sloshed, spilling down the side of the heavy bronze cookpot.

  Zhengqi reached for it with her bare hands.

  Hao was up to catch it before they knew it, pushing Zhengqi’s hands back and removing Meiqi’s hands to replace them. Meiqi hadn’t seen him touch anything like this before. Her initial panic came with just as many slaps and pinches as questions.

  He was tempted to make a joke. Tease her a little. If he set the pot down and flung his hands back, maybe cried a little… No, that would replace the tension with another more palpable than the steam in the building.

  He let her shock linger, just for a second. Her jaw stayed dropped and her eyes wide as he brought her down from her shock.

  “See…” he said, “now you know if I join this whatever it is, you don’t have to worry that much.”

  After a scolding and a few slaps on his arm, food was pulled out and cooked. It seemed the mother and daughter had forgotten their earlier argument. Now all of Meiqi’s ire was on him. Just until the meal was eaten. Then the jokes and teasing were reversed onto him until the yawning started.

  Once both were asleep, Hao snuck back outside. He sat in the cold watching the sunrise fill the cradle-like three-walled valley where the courtyard rested.

  The scent of the meal lingered. It made the moment even better. After eating the food the pair had cooked over the last few days, he had almost forgotten the taste of raw flesh and blood. There was still some fat sizzling at the bottom of the firepit. And that harsh twinge of burning berries from the jam Meiqi made seemed to pull his shoulders down and round him out.

  An hour of peace. That made the expenses and labor of the day seem to melt away. Not for long, as the next day was already in front of him, looking down on him in the form of a golden sun and thawing ice.

  He stayed there on the porch outside the door and closed his eyes. Meditation was like candy after a mood made good, hollow in a nice way, and sweet.

  His eyes didn’t open until he smelled the sweat of a herd. Servants being forced to walk uphill to this old, useless set of buildings under the supervision of three disciples stood in the back.

  “Up. Up now, don’t be slow about it.”

  The servants wore exhaustion on their faces. One or two didn’t even bother closing their mouths. They looked like the dead walking. Their breaths were similarly dead, groaning in a manner you would expect from a Jiangshi when it had nothing to do but stare at the sky.

  It was surprising. The disciples were gentle and encouraging. However, those words were ignored, and it looked like the servants were just being pulled along by a leash.

  They all looked like servants from an Upper Peak. There weren’t any servants on the Fifth Elder’s peak, but what stopped the others from taking a few? They were all spotless, in stainless white robes.

  If they weren’t ragged, they could have been easily mistaken for disciples. They stumbled over their own feet during the last stretch of the path, walking towards the well in the middle of the courtyard.

  Hao felt sick to his stomach. The first thing he thought of when he saw them was the mindless, puppet-like people Taoyi kept as company. One of them was Wu Penqi, Zhengqi’s daughter.

  One of the disciples glanced at Hao. He looked away, ignoring his presence, and ran to the front of the meandering servants, encouraging them with his words. A few fixing directions at the first words spoken.

  The discomfort in Hao’s stomach reached his throat.

  Then he recognized someone, and that discomfort became a tingle from the top of his head to his toes.

  A servant Hao shared a room with once. In the mining division of the sect, essentially a place of forced labor without food and minimal reward, he had three roommates.

  Hao touched the place on his chest that would have a scar if not for the alchemical pill he received. The one who sliced him with the shard of a Spirit Stone stood in the center of the servants. His head up at the sky, unblinking as he stared at the sun.

  A hard face to forget, the first person who tried to kill you. That was the first day Hao heard him speak, too, even though they saw each other nearly every night. The only thing he said was ‘food pill’ like he was a starved wild animal.

  The discomfort in his body turned to sickness. Hao ate those same food pills for a while, and now the one who relied on those food pills more than him was a shell with a chained soul inside.