Sky Pride

Chapter 36- The Relations Between the Old and the Dead

Tian bowed deeply from the waist. “Tian Zihao greets the Place Lord!”

“Yes, yes, stand up. Tsk. Courtesy has died in the outer world. Genuflection is generally considered the minimum for even a casual greeting of this Throne.”

Tian had to turn the words around a few times in his head. “Palace Lord, by any chance, were you the dragon this little daoist was rude to just now?”

“Mmm? Not in the way you think. The dragon is a rather important memory. The little things you have been breaking up and absorbing are stray thoughts, fragments of recollection, that sort of thing. None of which were mine, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Tian reckoned that was fair. It wasn’t getting any more comfortable talking to a black void, however.

“Your arts didn’t come from a junkyard, and I don’t know exactly how you have refined that physique of yours, but it is plainly very high grade. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a seamless body or something.” There was a sound of indulgent laughter. “Still, not things that one can simply chance on in a wasteland. Where, exactly, are you from, and what, exactly, is my little disciple up to?

“Ah… after your… difficulties…” Tian groped for the right words, and decided pushing past would be the easiest way forward, “The various outposts and buildings belonging to the Five Directions Palace were abandoned. A monastery was established on what your Eminence probably recalls as Heavenstep Mountain, and that is this one’s home. Higher up are the various holy lands, which this little daoist knows little about. So far as this little daoist knows, the political entity on that mountain that could be considered the dominant power is the Myriad Colors Holy Land, headed by Grandmaster White Peacock. He has some arrangement with the Human Emperor, but I regret to report I do not know the details. If there are any beings on Heavenstep Mountain more powerful than him, I don’t know who they are.”

“Grandmaster White Peacock? Grandmaster of what?” The voice sounded distant. “I can’t recall any grandmasters by that name. Is their name related to their art or their nature?”

“The Grandmaster is, in fact, a white peacock, so this little daoist believes the name is intended to reflect their nature.”

There was a ruminating silence. “Does he look something like this?”

A tracery of elements quickly formed, and a handsome man seemed to step from the void. It looked, in Tian’s estimation, like a somewhat uglier version of the Grandmaster.

“The face I saw was a little different, Palace Lord, but they could well be the same person.”

“Grandmaster. He’s calling himself a Grandmaster.” The voice in the darkness slowly unpeeled the words, as though he were opening a rotten orange.

Tian didn’t answer. It wasn’t really a question, and he was sure there was no good answer anyhow.

“And he’s established a ‘holy land’ on top of Heavenstep Mountain. Well, I can understand the location, Heavenstep Mountain is the third or fourth best cultivation mountain in this part of the Northern Expanse, and obviously Fate Severing Peak is here with me, but holy land?”

There was disbelieving laughter in the dark, rapidly running towards anger. “This glorified gardener is calling himself the Grandmaster of a Holy Land. Shameless! Isn’t he afraid of the wind cutting his tongue, with such clever talk? Holy Land? I wonder what he’ll say if he’s visited by the Dao Child of the Sword Grave Holy Land, or what he’d do if the Daughter of Waves from the Moonwater Orchid Island Holy Land just happened to drop by? Maybe he’d try to act cocky in front of her again, and we’d finally see if her severing sword skill is stronger than his blood drop bodily reconstruction technique. Holy Land! Lady Bing from the Duke of Yan’s palace would rip out his feathers and make a cape of them, if she heard him talk such rot. Then she would probably decide she had enough white capes, throw it in the secret realm she uses as a closet, and forget about it. Like she did the last time he ran his stupid bird mouth!”

There was another pause. “Actually, no, I misremember. That was a white crow. She put a collar on Peabrain and had him pretty up one of the side gardens for a thousand years. Rather lenient, in her way. He had been bullying her son something fierce. I don’t think she minded him toughing up her son, but she couldn’t stand the public exposure of his weakness. If she were really mad, she’d have had him roasted and served to her household.”

“Is that… common, Palace Lord? To eat beasts and birds who have their spiritual awareness awakened?”

“Why not? It’s not like the beasts are shy about eating us. It’s hardly cannibalism, and really, even cannibalism is an overstated horror compared to some things cultivators routinely see. A pointless taboo.”

Tian opened his mouth to argue, but struggled to articulate politely his violent disagreement. Palace Lord Song didn’t wait around for him to speak.

“That prissy, petty peafowl explains why that crane of yours smells familiar. She’s got his art in him. And I don’t know what’s going on with the female warrior with you, but I know a marked soul when I smell it. And I smell three of them, if you include the demon boy, three and a half if you include the bird. Which doesn’t explain why I can see my little disciple’s teethmarks on the girl, and that fishhook shaped like a tea pet she gave you. Explain your relationship with Fengua.”

Tian repressed the urge to cough. It would send entirely the wrong signal. “She maintains an enormous array that, by arrangement with my monastery, is also used as a trial ground and training field by promising juniors of my sect. It is opened every fifty years or so, and my Sister and I were fortunate enough to be amongst those chosen.”

There was silence in the darkness, then a sigh that went on too long. “How bad is she?”

“Palace Lord?”

“How. Bad. Is. She? She certainly no longer possesses a living body.”

“She is a rainbow-colored skeleton, who feeds on the fortunes of those who die in the formation, and those whose paths she alters or cuts short. This little daoist believes the formation nourishes and sustains her.” Tian was slowly coming to fully understand just what had been done to Liren. His once slightly fond feelings for the Saintess had entirely evaporated.

“Yet somehow, you seemed to have escaped her almost totally unscathed. Which is quite impossible, if she wanted you harmed.”

The corner of Tian’s mouth twitched. “This little daoist obeyed the rules of her trial very carefully, and overcame her challenge in an unusual way. If Palace Lord is interested, this one would be happy to demonstrate.”

“Oh? Please do.”

Tian cupped his fist and bowed. “As the Palace Lord commands. This little daoist asks, what sort of tea do you prefer?”

There was a long moment of silence, then a roaring laugh. His vision returned, and Tian found himself standing in a hall of dreams. In form, it was an imperial throne room. A flight of ninety nine stone steps led upwards to a higher platform, and behind a screen upon that platform was a grand throne. But this was merely the mundane.

The floors were tiled in golden bricks, polished to a dreamy sheen, hiding threads of amethyst and ruby within them. The pillars holding up the ceiling were made of porphyry, wrapped with vines made of gold and carrying leaves of emerald. Upon each leaf was carved tiny characters in ancient seal script, their forms wiggling and twisting like wisteria. How high did they stretch? Impossible to say. They held up a ceiling that was nothing less than the Heavenly River and the night sky. Each star shone with its own brilliance, and even a glance was enough to terrify. The meanings of each star was there, the meaning of the constellations, the meanings of the heavenly stems, all there, for any who dared raise their eyes from the floor. But who dared?

The throne had a fragrance Tian could smell from far below, rich sandalwood and something deeper, something that soothed the worry in him and sped his thoughts. Above the throne was the Shen Dragon, brilliant golden scales, five claws on each paw. It admired a pearl the size of a man in width, a pearl that shimmered with mercury and moonlight and seven colored rainbows. But upon the throne itself… Tian couldn’t properly see the man’s form, as he rested behind a screen. The knees and legs were visible- jet black robes, trimmed with fascinating geometric patterns and embroidered with microscopic precision. The size of the man seemed to shift, sometimes a giant, sometimes an ordinary man of extraordinary bearing. Tian was in the presence of a higher being. Palace Lord Song might have failed his ascension, but that still put him realms ahead of any in the wasteland. Perhaps any in the Myriad Colors Holy Land too.

“It has been a long time since this Throne had a decent cup. I won’t make things hard on you. Show me your capability with a lively green tea.”

Tian bowed and set out his tray, not neglecting to arrange his tea pets. The little round pig had become a vital member of the team there, anchoring the green and white lotus and the fenghua. The scrap of stone he had received from the Burning Manor Lord had absorbed a great deal of tea qi since entering his care, to say nothing of the extraordinary qi of the environments Tian had passed through. The multicolored strands of minerals hidden under the grey exterior now carried a hint of charm to them, coming brightly to life as he poured out the wash.

Every breath, every move, every thought he committed to the ritual was intentional. Each carried an elemental meaning, the product of what he had learned in both the Six Turn Caverns, but also every experience he had since then.

The wood was the jungles he had flown over, the springtimes he had seen nudge grass to wakefulness, practicing and sparring with his junior brothers in the practice square. The fires of war, of peace, of love and passion and the joy he felt every time he flew up into the clear blue sky on the back of Burning Heaven and laughed at the wonder of it all. Earth- the mountain’s glory, the patience and resolve of one who studies for the love of it. The rich earth that made the clay in the cups, that held the tree that gave the leaves for the tea. The metal of precision, focus, pushing harder, further, more exactly. Not settling. Not being willing to be ordinary. Not being willing to be merely adequate. Then water. Tian poured it all in there, the flowing combat dao he inherited, happy days on the Agate, the way the pond brought the whole cavern together and made a little paradise of his home with Liren. What it meant to be the source of life and death.

There was a void in the center of it all. The tension that held everything apart. Tian had thought it was purely structural in the Six Turns Cavern. Now he was starting to understand a deeper truth.

“A junior’s efforts will always be lacking, and I know the ingredients are far less than the Palace Master is accustomed to. Nevertheless, please, enjoy.”

Tian bowed and offered a cup. It flew up from his tray, over the ninety nine steps, under the screen, and vanished from his sight. There was a loud slurp, and a smacking of the lips.

“Ah. Hospitality. It’s not the core of you, but it’s an inseparable part of you. One day, someone will fail to behave as a guest should, and you will regain your senses as their blood drips off your hands.” There was a ruminating hum, and the cup flew back to the tray. “Those leaves should be good for three steeps, I’d say. Pour out another cup.”

Tian bowed and did so. He had already finished his own. He had millions of questions, but kept them firmly suppressed. He poured the hot water from the kettle into his lidded cup, and waited just a few seconds. Green tea was finicky like that. The water mustnʼt be too hot, nor the steep too long. Get it right and the tea was bright and fresh. Get it wrong, and it was a bitter, unpalatable mess.

Tian poured out their cups, and watched the Palace Lord’s cup go flying upward. There was a moment of quiet. The tea was fragrant, the delicate aroma of fresh grass and a hint of rain on jasmine flowers. The color was a sweet green-gold and crystal clear. It was a well made cup. He had put everything he had into it. His reflection in the cup looked… tense. What was his body feeling that his mind wasn’t understanding? Was there a hidden danger? Of course there was, but where?

“There are layers upon layers of good fortune upon you. Your body, to those with the right eyes, is the most obvious. Your eyes are the second most obvious, of course. None of this could accumulate without an impeccable foundation. Tell me, little junkyard daoist, when you ascended, what did you see?”

He had forgotten. The Saintess was quite pleasant and easy to chat to while they were drinking tea. She was letting the room they were in silently kill him. She was a predator, bone cold and heartless. Everything she did was for her benefit and at your expense. And she was the disciple of the equally dead cultivator in front of him.