The heavy wooden-and-iron door closed with a soft click of the lock.
The sound of the cutting wind and the metallic smell of blood vanished at once. The spacious interior smelled of sandalwood and dense warmth. Mò Yán stopped one step inside the door, her breath caught.
Zhì Yuǎn was reclining at the back of the main seat, his gaze following the landscape through the crystal window. Seated between his legs, her back resting against his broad chest, was Yù Qíng. Her husband's large hand rested on her knee with silent, absolute possession.
Mò Yán dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead against the plush carpet.
— I will guide your carriage through the gates of my clan — the diplomat's voice flowed formal and submissive.
Zhì Yuǎn gave a minimal nod. His large hand squeezed Yù Qíng's knee lightly. The toll had been paid.
Leaning against her husband's chest, the Priestess smiled. She picked up the teapot from the center table and poured a cup of tea.
— Sit and drink with us, snow flower — her soft voice slid through the cabin.
Mò Yán obeyed. She sat on the edge of the empty velvet seat, spine perfectly straight, and accepted the cup with both hands.
The carriage jolted and the iron wheels began to turn, leaving the blood-stained plateau behind. Mò Yán held the cup close to her chest, but her scarlet irises betrayed her discipline, repeatedly drifting from the tea up to the unshakable face of the man in the gray tunic.
Yù Qíng opened a friendly smile, breaking the silence with the sweetness of a curious hostess.
— You look at my husband quite a lot, snow flower — she said, her voice gentle and welcoming. — Have we met before?
Mò Yán lowered the cup onto the saucer. Her sharp mind understood the intention at once.
— Yes, Madam. Four years ago, at the auction in the city of Qīngshí — Mò Yán's voice flowed controlled. — My grandfather, who lives in the city because he has a library there, won one of the Golden Essences of Rebirth. I also acquired one of those vials for the Sect Master, which has allowed us many territorial gains in recent years thanks to this Transcendent power being reintroduced into the world.
Yù Qíng blinked, her smile growing with mild nostalgia.
— Ah… the old librarian was your grandfather — she murmured, tilting her head slightly against her husband's chest. — How is his health? Is he still alive? Forgive my insensitivity, Mò Yán. It's just that we've been out of contact for the last four years. But he seemed so frail, coughing in that dusty air…
Mò Yán froze.
The diplomat's mind suffered a violent jolt. Her grandfather. The only cultivator in centuries to have reached the Ninth Mortal Stage — at least before the miraculous elixir appeared — was frail?
— My grandfather is in perfect health, Madam — Mò Yán replied, clarity replacing hesitation. — The vial, which I assume you two auctioned, allowed him to reach Transcendence. And he advised me very well on which path to follow, should the opportunity arise.
Yù Qíng gave a poisoned smile of approval.
— A well-guided seed germinates quickly — the Priestess whispered.
Yù Qíng set her cup down on the saucer with a sharp clack. Her tone shifted from friendly to lethal.
— Let's make a bet, Mò Yán. A single round. If your reason wins against mine, we will pass through your mountain in peace and leave resources for your father to revive the Era of the Transcendents.
Mò Yán's heart pounded against her ribs.
— And if I lose?
— You won't return home. You will surrender your body, your mind, and your loyalty to my husband. Without reservations.
The weight of the offer crushed the air.
Mò Yán hesitated for a moment. Her mind calculated quickly. Then she raised her face.
— I accept — the diplomat answered, activating her political mind.
Yù Qíng smiled and began her attack.
— Your sect believes that discipline separates cultivators from beasts. That control builds empires. Do you believe that?
— Control is true strength — Mò Yán countered, sharp and quick. — Without it, raw power consumes itself.
— Then explain something to me, snow flower. If your rules are so perfect, why did the strongest man in your clan's history break every single one of them, abandon the throne, and go sweep the floor of a dusty bookstore?
Mò Yán struck back, her voice sharp:
— He didn't leave because the rules failed, Madam. He left because they worked — she said. — Discipline raised him to the top of the world. He simply became too great for our ceiling. But the ceiling still serves to protect the weaker ones from the rain.
Yù Qíng smiled widely. The diplomat was brilliant in her own battlefield.
— A beautiful political defense — she murmured, leaning forward. Her tone changed. — Your mind is a perfect shield, Mò Yán. You defend what you don't believe in with a conviction that almost convinced me.
She paused briefly, her black eyes gleaming with something sharper.
— But tell me something… — her voice dropped, lower, almost intimate. — You, who have spent your entire life preserving your Yin as if it were a sacred relic… are you really going to look me in the eyes and say that you're not wet right now? That your body isn't betraying every year of chastity you carry? Say that, with your flawless logic, and the bet is yours.
Mò Yán's throat went dry.
Her face burned. A deep flush rose up her neck and took over her cheeks. She pressed her knees together beneath her tunic, as if she could physically hide what the question had exposed. The Yin in her veins, preserved with such rigor throughout her life, responded against her will — a low, insistent pulse that only made her more ashamed.
Her mind tried to raise the walls of orthodox training. Duty to her father. The honor of the Central Pillar. The loyalty she had carried since birth. But the walls had been cracked for a long time.
Her grandfather's words at the auction echoed in her mind: "Your best chance in this life lies in the trail they will leave behind."
She had always known. She had spent twenty-five years suffocating her own ambition, swallowing the disgust she felt toward the sect. Her grandfather had been right. The sects were parasites. And she was one of the best trained.
Mò Yán turned her face. Her gaze met Zhì Yuǎn's figure.
The man had stopped looking out the crystal window.
The moment his dark eyes met hers, something inside Mò Yán shifted. There was no pressure in his gaze. Only an abyss that could swallow her whole.
Her Yin, preserved with such rigor, responded. Insistent. For the first time in her life, the chastity she used as a shield became a prison. And she hated it. She hated herself for feeling it. She hated herself for even considering it.
If I bow now, I won't be saving the sect. Father… maybe I can still protect him, if I make myself useful. They have resources no one in this world possesses. The elixir they auctioned is proof of that. And they are stronger than anyone who has ever set foot in these lands. If I bow now, maybe I can secure protection for him… and power for myself.
Surrender wouldn't be a complete defeat. It would be a different kind of gamble.
But it would also be a betrayal.
Mò Yán released the edge of the cup. The tea inside had gone cold long ago. She slid from the velvet seat and dropped to her knees on the plush carpet. She bent forward until her forehead touched the floor of the carriage.
The voice that came out was low, stripped of any diplomatic tone.
— I lost — she said. — My grandfather was right. The rules I carried my entire life mean nothing in front of Your Eminence. My body no longer obeys them. And the argument about the mountain… was false from the very beginning.
The silence that followed was dense.
Yù Qíng looked at the kneeling woman for a long second. Her black eyes gleamed with quiet, almost predatory satisfaction. She raised her face and looked at her husband.
— My heaven — she called, her voice sweet, overflowing with devotion. — What do you think of the beautiful servant I got for you?
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his dark eyes onto the white-haired woman prostrated on the floor. He evaluated her in silence, like someone measuring the value of a new piece in his domain. After a moment, he looked away from Mò Yán and fixed his gaze on Yù Qíng.
— She has potential — his deep voice filled the cabin. — You chose well.
The man's large hand held Yù Qíng's jaw. He pulled her closer and devoured her mouth in a deep kiss. A physical reward, brutal and silent, for a successful hunt.
When the kiss ended, Yù Qíng simply rested her face against her husband's chest, her breathing calm, wearing the satisfied smile of someone who had just placed a valuable object on the shelf at home.
Mò Yán felt disgusted with herself. But she also felt relief.
— From now on, I belong to my Lord — she murmured, accepting the new reality.
Zhì Yuǎn simply adjusted his hand on his wife's waist.
Outside, the heavy hooves of the beasts struck the stone, and the colossal carriage continued its silent march toward the Deep South.
------
In a place where time did not exist, four presences gathered.
There was no ground, sky, or horizon. Only absolute darkness, so vast that it swallowed any attempt at comprehension. Even so, they were there — four vague figures, humanoid only in the suggestion of form, their very existence hesitating to define them. Each emanated a presence that transcended simple "being." They were divine and ancient.
— Wisdom has been absent for a long time, Life — said a serene voice, devoid of emotion. The figure that spoke remained absolutely still. The very concept of movement was irrelevant to its nature. — Where did it say it was going again?
Life, whose presence was the warmest and most expansive among them, answered with a voice heavy with weariness.
— It wanted to experience the Dao completely — Life replied. — That is why it abandoned its form. It descended to become like the beings of this universe.
A heavy silence fell over the non-place.
The most agitated figure — Duality — trembled. Its form flickered between two contradictory postures at the same time, unable to decide which one to assume.
— Abandoned… completely? — Duality asked, its voice thin and incredulous. — It… it actually did that?
— Isn't it a little ironic? — Duality continued, now with a tone that mixed fascination and something darker. — Wisdom giving up itself to prove ignorance. What… what an absurd idea.
Causality, whose presence was rigid and sharp like a blade, clicked its tongue, overflowing with pure irritation.
— Absurd is an understatement — it retorted, its voice cutting. — It left us. It abandoned what we were. And for what? To play at being limited?
— Calm down, Causality — Death intervened, its voice mild, almost gentle. — We haven't gathered in so long. There's no need to start picking fights.
For a moment, no one spoke. Duality simply remained silent, its form flickering between opposing postures.
Life observed them all for a moment before speaking again, its maternal voice sounding lower.
— If you miss it so much… why don't you descend as well? Experience the Dao the way it did. I was already considering it myself.
— Descend? — Causality repeated. The mere idea was offensive. — And abandon what we are?
— I want to see — Duality answered quickly, its voice becoming animated again. — I want to see what Wisdom found so important that it… gave up everything.
— Whatever — it muttered afterward, its tone dropping immediately. — I'm not even missing it that much…
Causality let out a sound of disbelief, but did not argue back. Death simply watched in silence.
— And the other two? — Causality asked after a moment. — Will they want to descend too?
Life let out a long, perfectly human sigh.
— They are angrier at Wisdom than any of us — it answered. — Especially Eternity.
The other three remained silent.
None of them disagreed.