The twins led me through the palace's shadowed corridors, their flame blade's heat a constant threat at my neck, its light casting eerie patterns on the jade walls. The air was frigid, carrying the faint scent of incense and iron, a reminder of the sect's dual nature—beauty laced with violence. My new hanfu chafed, the coarse cotton a stark contrast to the silk I'd once worn, each step a reminder of my fall from grace. The silence between us was oppressive, broken only by the soft rustle of their robes and the distant hum of the palace's wards, their spiritual energy a low pulse that set my nerves on edge.
I'd expected a gallows or torture chamber, the sect's cruelty made manifest, but instead, they led me to a spacious hall, its elegance a stark contrast to the night's menace. Polished rosewood floors gleamed under lantern light, their surfaces etched with phoenix motifs that seemed to shimmer. The air carried the soothing scent of sandalwood incense, curling from a bronze burner shaped like a lotus. Behind a massive rosewood table sat Cao Shen—Clan Leader, sect master, and my father. His presence filled the room, a quiet power that needed no display, his robes a deep crimson that absorbed the light. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, met mine, and for a moment, I felt like a child caught in a storm.
"Sit, Kai Shen. We have a difficult conversation ahead," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite him, its wood carved with delicate vines. "Tea?"
"I won't refuse," I nodded, catching the pleasant aroma wafting from a porcelain teapot on the table. Poison wasn't a concern—if he wanted me dead, I'd be ash by now, scattered like Su Tai in the arena. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the moment.
Cao Shen reached for the teapot, its surface painted with phoenixes in flight, and poured tea into two delicate cups, the liquid steaming as it filled the air with a floral scent. He slid one to me, the gesture a great honor, though I was oblivious to the sect's customs. I nodded in thanks and took a sip, the tea's warmth spreading through me, a fleeting comfort in the night's uncertainty.
"This is the best tea I've ever tasted," I said, unable to resist, the flavor a blend of jasmine and honey, smooth and rich. I checked—no spiritual energy, just pure craftsmanship. "What's the secret?"
"Must there always be a secret?" He raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to brew tea properly. It's about finding the right blend and controlling the heat, of course."
"Is there a technique for brewing tea?" I asked, genuinely curious, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
"You'd be surprised, but yes," he said, sipping his own, his movements precise. "A Heavenly-rank technique that once sparked a war between the Dragon and Tiger Sects. Sadly, I don't possess it, so I make do with precise control of fire Qi. By the way, congratulations on your victory. Care to explain why you spared Huo?"
"I'm merciful, as a righteous Daoist should be," I shrugged, the words half-true, my tone light to mask the turmoil within. "Is that wrong?"
"It's wrong to show weakness before thousands of spectators," he said, his tone hardening to steel, his eyes narrowing. To his credit, he didn't crush me with his aura, a restraint I appreciated in a sect where power was often a blunt weapon.
"They already despise me. Want me dead," I replied, meeting his gaze. "Let them underestimate me too. Trust me, they're in for a surprise."
"Excuses," he grimaced, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "You've always been sharp-tongued, even when it's ill-timed. Restraint is also a virtue."
"This practitioner is only beginning to tread the Dao," I smiled, taking another sip, the tea's warmth grounding me. "I'll learn."
"You're remarkably calm for someone in your position," he said, studying me, his gaze piercing. "Perhaps out of ignorance?"
He fell silent, his eyes expectant, as if waiting for me to ask the questions burning in my mind. Fine, let him wait. The tea was plentiful, the chair comfortable, and I had no pressing matters beyond survival. The silence stretched, the hall's lanterns flickering, casting shadows that danced across the rosewood. He broke first.
"You've grown even more insufferable," he said, shaking his head, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Perhaps losing your techniques blew away your manners too. See that map? Know its flaw?"
A massive map hung on the wall, its parchment aged but vibrant, divided into red, blue, and purple—Phoenix, Dragon, and Tiger territories. Regions bore names like "Mountain Stream Sect" or "Fort of Darkness," their borders marked with intricate runes. A political map, proof I'd been part of one of this world's mightiest sects. Or had been, until my expulsion.
"It doesn't show the true scale?" I ventured, studying the map's details, the rivers and mountains rendered with an artist's precision.
"Hm, you're not wrong," he glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "But no. Its greatest flaw is that it's incomplete. Our world is too vast to fit on a sheet of paper, even one imbued with spiritual energy."
He paused again, daring me to play his game. I wasn't interested. If he wanted to share, he would. I had other questions, ones that cut deeper.
"Venerable Leader," I said, my tone formal, "your goons mentioned techniques can be removed from loci. Care to elaborate?" Dance of Embers had saved me, but it was weak, with no growth potential, a tool I'd outgrown.
"Trying to squeeze everything out of me?" His brows rose, a spark of approval in his eyes. "You might amount to something yet. But tell me, did you really seek advice from Shosho?" He blended their names, a deliberate quirk that caught my attention.
"You assigned them to me," I grinned, recalling the traps they'd led me into, their subtle manipulations. "Could such a practitioner disobey the Clan Leader and harm me?"
"They're a mighty demon, sealed by me into two bodies," he said, his voice low, the words heavy with meaning. "Their malevolent nature is bound by spiritual chains, but they twist and subvert every order. They didn't lie—you can remove a supplementary technique. But it's dangerous, with a high risk of destroying the locus and your cultivation."
"So all those setups were their idea?" I chuckled, the pieces falling into place, their odd behavior now making sense.
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered," he grinned, and something in his expression felt familiar, a mirror of my own smirk. Family, indeed. It sparked another thought, one I couldn't resist.
"Father," I drawled, the word deliberate, "why does half the sect call me a bastard?"
"That's not a topic I'm ready to discuss," he said, his face turning to ice, his aura flaring briefly, a warning. "Not yet. Ask again if you reach Core Formation. Though, I doubt we'll meet before then. More tea?"
I nodded, the tea's warmth a small comfort as his words sank in. Shosho—a demon split in two, their power bound but treacherous. They'd set me up, yet I'd used their advice, no choice but to wield Dance of Embers. What secrets lay in my origins, and why did Cao Shen guard them so fiercely?