Fates parallel vol 2, p.45
Fates Parallel Vol. 2, page 45
Yoshika shook her head and groaned. It was going to be a long year.
Interlude - Grim Tidings
Yan Ren strode through the halls of the Awakening Dragon Sect’s inner sanctum, silently fuming—though he didn’t allow his mood to reveal itself through his actions or expression. His master had awakened and returned from his closed door training, and his brother-in-craft had left on some ill-fated mission to avenge the clan’s honor.
Ostensibly, the return of his master and the departure of his ambitious brother were good things. Yan De’s presence only made the sect stronger, and he still took a fairly hands-off approach to managing the sect itself. With Yan Hao gone, that left Ren with almost complete control over the affairs of the sect itself. It was no exaggeration to say that Ren’s influence was greater now than it had ever been.
He hated it. Unlike his brother-in-craft, Yan Ren had no interest in worldly influence or political power. His ambitions went much higher. Almost every cultivator to ascend to a position as a member of the God-Emperor’s personal host had at one point been the grandmaster of a great sect. Almost. Yan Ren intended to be one of those exceptions.
To that end, he had never taken a core disciple of his own—though he still fulfilled his duties as an elder of the sect, overseeing the training of the inner disciples. Nor did he generally take an active role in the management of the sect—he was more than happy to let Yan Hao handle that.
Now, not only did he have to manage the sect's affairs himself, but his master was also using him as a glorified messenger and errand boy. He had almost no time to spend on his own cultivation. In the past, whenever given a task, Yan Ren would always complete it as quickly and efficiently as possible, so that he could get back to his training. This had backfired on him entirely, as he earned a reputation for being reliable and hypercompetent.
Not that he didn’t have some pride in that reputation, but still, it meant that he was always called on for the most important tasks by those above him. He had, for the past fifteen years, taken solace in the fact that there was nobody above him. He was free to do as he liked, as long as his general duties were fulfilled. That was no longer the case.
As he approached his master’s room, he idly wondered whether there was anything meaningful to be gleaned from the fact that Yan De had sent Hao to resolve the matter of Zhihao’s death, rather than Ren. It was possible, of course, that in the heat of the moment he had simply sent whoever was present and available, but Yan Ren suspected that it was because his master simply didn’t think it was important.
Not that Ren thought his current task was particularly important either, but he could understand his master’s priorities. They were alike, he thought, in that they both wanted nothing more than to return to their cultivation. For Yan De, that meant ensuring that his clan had an heir, so that he could spend the next century or more in closed door training. Hence, the small pile of messages that Yan Ren was now tasked with delivering.
Yan Ren approached the door to his master’s room and knelt. He didn’t knock, or make any other indication of his presence. His master would know he was there, and would call him in when he was ready. Ren didn’t mind his master making him wait—in fact, he relished the opportunity to sneak some meditation in. Unfortunately, his timing must have been quite good, because Yan De summoned him less than an hour after his arrival.
"Yan Ren, enter."
Ren slid open the door and entered without rising from his kneeling position. That level of deference wasn’t strictly necessary in his position, but Yan De was a staunch traditionalist, and would appreciate the ritualistic approach to the meeting.
Yan De’s sitting room was an odd combination of spartan and luxurious. Everything in the room has some utility, even if that utility was only to adjust the flow of spiritual energy. However, despite the utilitarian nature of the room’s decor, no expense was spared in ensuring that each item appropriately represented the wealth and status of a sect grandmaster.
Yan Ren knelt on a cushion woven with the silk of an ash-weaver spider—an extremely rare and dangerous magical beast—and stuffed with the molted down of a phoenix. He placed the small bundle of letters on the tea table—which did not have any actual tea on it—and lowered his head in a respectful kowtow while he waited for Yan De to read through the letters.
His master seemed to grow increasingly agitated as he read the letters—each of which was a reply from another sect master or grandmaster regarding his request for a talented concubine to sire his new heir. Yan De set the letters aside and sighed.
"Raise your head, Yan Ren."
Ren did so without speaking, compliance itself was a sufficient response, and his master did not like to waste words.
"Tell me about Yan Yue. Nearly every sect master has made a counter-offer involving her, either to marry one of their scions or to take as their own concubine. Only the Xin clan master flatly refused my proposal, the ingrate—he should be thankful I gave him any face at all."
"Yes, master. Yan Yue—your firstborn daughter, eighteen as of last autumn, one of Yan Hao’s core disciples, in the core forming stage—near the peak, by my estimates. A talent worthy of your name."
"Hm. The peak of houtian, you say? She certainly has greater potential than her mother ever did. Those misers are trying to get their hands on her before she rises to xiantian, no doubt. An unlikely feat for a woman but she is my daughter. I assume you’ve read our correspondences?"
Yan Ren hesitated.
"I would not presume to—"
"The question was rhetorical, Yan Ran. What do you think of their proposals?"
Ren cleared his throat nervously.
"Ahem, they...are generous if one assumes that Yan Yue has already reached the peak of her potential."
"And has she?"
"I don’t think so, master. She has an incredible talent with Yin arts, and her skill with the Melody of the Dreaming Moon far outstrips that of her mother. I would venture to say that she is the most talented disciple in the entire sect."
Yan De’s eyebrows rose as he considered Ren’s words. For all that his master could be overbearing, stubborn, and selfish, Yan Ren knew that he was no fool. He would take Yan Ren’s words seriously, and truly consider the implications of them. The only problem was—
"I knew those greedy bastards were trying to scam me. Yan Ren, draft counter offers to each of them with the assumption that Yan Yue is already a xiantian level cultivator. I won’t dignify them with personal responses if this is the way they’re going to behave. Honestly—barely a decade and a half I’ve been gone and already they’ve forgotten their places."
Yan Ren bowed his head.
"Yes master—except—"
"Is there a problem?"
"Master, Yan Yue is not presently within the sect—nor the nation, for that matter."
"What? Ah—you mentioned she was Yan Hao’s disciple. He’s not back yet?"
Ren suppressed a sigh. It had only been a month or so since Yan Hao was expected to have arrived at the academy. Assuming there were no complications involved—which he doubted would be the case—Yan Ren might have been able to finish the task in that time, but his brother-in-craft?
"No master. By my estimations Yan Hao will be another month, minimum. If there are complications, or if one of the foreign experts were involved then it may take as much as six months. If Qin Zhao himself is responsible..."
Yan De scoffed and waved a hand.
"It wasn’t him. The imperial family may be declining into decadence without the divine wisdom of our Emperor actively guiding them, but Qin Zhao promised to take him on as a personal disciple. That man would not betray his word."
Yan Ren nodded his head. Qin Zhao had quite a reputation—not all of it good—but it was well known that he never forswore an oath.
"There is also the possibility that Yan Hao may have failed his task entirely."
Yan Ren carefully avoided cringing back as Yan De met him with a furious glare.
"On what basis?"
"The Snake, master. Our efforts to push Yan Hao into the academy forced us to make concessions with the other nations. The barbarians didn’t send anyone of note, having already exhausted their only xiantian cultivator—"
Yan De scoffed.
"Supposed xiantian."
"Indeed. However, the beastkin contrived to send The Snake himself. Do Hye is currently attending the academy as an instructor. If he saw fit to interfere with Yan Hao’s mission..."
Yan De seemed to chew over the thought irritably. He was clearly loath to admit the possibility that one of his personal students might be bested by a beastkin, but he wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate The Snake.
"Hmm, very well. A year, then. If Yan Hao doesn’t return by this time next year we will resort to more forceful measures. Devise at least three strategies to blame the other nations for inciting a war to cover our actions from the imperial—"
Yan De cut himself off and turned his head to the door a moment before there was an urgent knock. Yan Ren was ready to gut whichever idiot disciple broke decorum in such a flagrant manner, but his master simply waved a hand, and the door opened revealing a panicked looking disciple.
"U-um, ancestral grandmaster, elder, t-there’s—"
Yan Ren shook his head in disappointment. They needed to raise the standards on inner disciples again. He’d clearly let Yan Hao open the doors too wide if this was the kind of disciple they were cultivating. It would be inappropriate to let Yan De lower himself to deal with this disciple directly, so Yan Ren spoke.
"Speak clearly! You had best have a good reason for interrupting this meeting—your life depends on it."
The disciple gulped audibly and nodded.
"Y-yes, elder. There’s an emissary from the imperial family here with a message for ancestral grandmaster."
Yan Ren felt as if a blood vessel was going to burst in his forehead.
"Is that all? You could have just left it with any other messages."
The inner disciple began to sweat profusely, glancing between Yan Ren’s angry glare and Yan De—who wasn’t even looking in his direction anymore.
"H-he said it was urgent and—"
"I don’t care how urgent it is, we don’t kowtow to the imperial family unless they bring the word of the God-Emperor himse—"
"Ancestral Grandmaster Yan De has been summoned for an audience with God-Emperor Qin!"
The inner disciple interrupted Yan Ren with a shout, and only the content of his words stopped Ren from striking him down on the spot. Even his master’s eyes had widened, and he now gave the inner disciple his full attention. Yan Ren spoke through clenched teeth, seething.
"Next time, lead with that!"
Interlude - The Princess and the Fox
She was a failure. A worthless, black stain on her family’s proud tradition. Not that Seong Eunae cared that much what her family thought. Yet, it was true what they said about her—she was a disappointment, a mistake—a failure. For as long as she could remember, her family had hated her, and she hadn’t really understood why until she got older.
It was because she was weak. In every measurable way, Eunae knew that she was so weak it was almost pathetic. Physically, she’d always been frail. She got sick often as a child and had never once won a fight with any of her sisters—even the younger ones.
Spiritually, her bloodline was the weakest her clan had ever known. She was already sixteen with only two tails—unheard of for a second generation daughter of the Seong Clan. Even her youngest sister already had three as a toddler, and would likely grow into more as she got older.
Magically? She was supposedly second only to Dae in magical talent, but the notion made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. ‘Talent.’ As if one could measure such a thing based on her ability alone. The people who said that didn’t understand—Hyeong Daesung had a superlative teacher, but he came from common stock. He had talent in the truest sense of the word. Eunae had none.
Certainly she was skilled at magic—second only to Dae, as they said. For now, at least. Her skill was the product of her upbringing. The best teachers, the strongest leylines, the most expensive artifacts to aid her training. She worked impossibly hard to please her family as a child, studying until her eyes were too dry to read anymore, writing talismans until the sores on her fingers bled and ruined the ink—so many advantages, so much effort. All that, and she was still second best. Weak—too weak to even protect one friend.
The only thing that gave Seong Eunae any worth to anybody was the part of herself that she hated the most. Her bewitching gaze was an incredibly rare manifestation of her spiritual bloodline, and one that had only ever occurred once before in history. The legendary fox princess, Seong Heiran had left an impossible legacy for Eunae to follow.
Without her gaze, Eunae’s family might have accepted her, even as weak as she was. They might have appreciated how hard she worked to make up for it. Instead, they resented her. ‘What a waste’ they would say. She had been born with such power, yet she was too weak to wield it as her predecessor had. They had wanted the second coming of Seong Heiran, but all they got was...Eunae.
So of course, Eunae hated her power. She wished every day that she hadn’t been burdened with such an ability—or that she could pass it on to someone else. Before coming to the academy, she had even sworn to herself never to use it again—and failed her resolution almost immediately. Now, for the first time in her life, she found herself actually trying to train her ability to control her loathsome power.
It had originally been Lee Jia’s suggestion, and while Eunae was hesitant at first, the potential to actually control her power was a compelling notion. The training sessions with Jia—’staring contests’ as Eui put it—had been a surprisingly pleasant experience, but they had made very little progress until Jia discovered that the ability was apparently powered by her spirit half.
Jia had actually been able to commune with her own spirit half, and even apparently heard the voice of Eunae’s when she had attempted to use Absolute Awareness to defend against her gaze. Jia hadn’t been able to tell Eunae how to learn the technique she’d used to commune with her spirit half, but Eunae had been able to figure a few things out based on her own study and the vague explanations Jia gave on how she’d discovered the technique.
It had been intuitive—sent to her by her spirit half in a dream. Eunae hadn’t had any such dreams, but from that she could understand that their spirit halves had wills of their own, and would make an effort to communicate that will. The theory matched up with discussions Eunae had with Kim Yongsun—for him, that intuition seemed to manifest itself in powerful animal instincts that he constantly struggled to reconcile with more rational human thought.
After weeks of meditation, soul-searching, and study, Eunae had finally found her own source of spiritual inspiration in a rather unlikely place—the mirror. It wasn’t as if she’d never looked in a mirror before—she did it every day to brush her hair and apply her makeup. What she did differently was simple—almost embarrassingly so.
Her failure to protect Lee Jia after Zheng Long’s attack had sparked a particularly savage episode of self-loathing in Eunae, and in a moment of self-destructive anger she had attempted to do something that had never even occurred to her before. She tried to use her gaze on herself.
She didn’t even know what she had been trying to accomplish by it. Perhaps to cure herself of her self-loathing, or somehow strengthen her resolve to be better. Either way, it didn’t work, but it had given her...a feeling. It was difficult to describe, like a thought that came to her while halfway between sleep and wakefulness that she couldn’t comprehend when she tried to concentrate on it.
The feeling rejected logical analysis. The more she focused her mind on it, the weaker the feeling became. However, if she emptied her mind entirely and just let it wash over her, it seemed as clear as day. So that’s what she had been doing ever since. Meditating on her soul, allowing the feeling to guide her as she slowly, painstakingly carved out a path within her meridians based on that feeling.
It was difficult. She didn’t have Jia’s talent, and the feeling was so fleeting that it felt like she might lose it if her concentration slipped for even a moment. The mistakes were painful, but she knew they were mistakes as surely as she knew that the feeling was guiding her towards...something.
Eunae didn’t know how long she’d been sitting in the garden courtyard of the home she shared with Rika, refusing to eat or sleep until she completed her task. Rika had interrupted a few times, looking deeply concerned, but she didn’t understand. Eunae had to do this now, while she could still remember. If she allowed the feeling to fade, she might never get it back again. She had to make up for her lack of talent with hard work.
The breakthrough happened without Eunae even noticing it. One moment she’d been deep in meditation, the next she was surrounded by a featureless black void. For a moment she thought that the lack of sleep had caught up to her—that she had succumbed to her exhaustion and was now dreaming.
Then, another figure appeared before her, coalescing out of nothingness. The figure was a woman with long, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a pair of tall fox ears atop her head—with a start, Eunae realized that it was her. The same eyes, the same hair, the figure looked exactly like Eunae in every way except for two.
The first difference was that Eunae couldn’t help but feel as though the version in front of her was idealized. Every small imperfection that Eunae held insecurities about was gone, and the features that she was most proud of were exaggerated and perfected. The second difference was more dramatic—her bushy fox tails, white-furred except for the dark black tips. Exactly like Eunae’s except for the fact that there were nine of them, instead of two. Also, she was naked.
"Ancestors!"
Her doppelganger covered her mouth with a tail and giggled melodically at Eunae’s exclamation. Her voice was once again an idealized version of Eunae’s.
