Unfortunate Transmigrator

54

Unresolved Resolution

I

It didn’t take long into Bao Shan’s interrogation for Hao Zhen’s hopes of slipping anything past the man to die a miserable death.

Bao Shan seemed hellbent on leaving no stone unturned. Every time Tian Jin mentioned an event, Bao Shan asked for the date. Every time Tian Jin mentioned someone, Bao Shan asked for names and physical descriptions. Each and every single detail was scrutinized.

There was really only one thing Hao Zhen was concerned about. The Radiant Light Sword. Lan Yue’s possession of Radiant Light Talismans, Tian Jin’s mysterious abilities and the mystery of his bloodline—none of that was too big of a deal. The Radiant Light Sword was a different matter.

Hao Zhen could think of a couple of different ways the situation would play out when Bao Shan found out about the sword, and it wasn’t the possibility of being forced to give it up that troubled him. No, the scenario that he kept going over in his head was the one in which Bao Shan decided to keep the Radiant Light Sword for himself and killed the three of them to ensure their silence on the matter.

Hao Zhen was the son of a merchant. He liked to think he knew greed better than most. It didn’t help that that was hardly an uncommon scenario in cultivation novels.

As discretely as he could, Hao Zhen studied the prime elder.

Bao Shan still had his attention fixed on Tian Jin, listening intently but otherwise impassive. Even sitting down, he towered over them. And that was just about the extent of Hao Zhen’s impression of the man. Bao Shan didn’t strike Hao Zhen as someone greedy or duplicitous, but he’d only met Bao Shan that morning and had literally only exchanged a few words with him. Both Tian Jin and Lan Yue only had good things to say about Bao Shan, but Hao Zhen wasn’t sure how good judges of character they were.

If Hao Zhen was right about the Weave, then it wouldn’t put them in a certain-death situation. That thought brought him some comfort at first, but then he saw the problem with it. If Bao Shan did act up, they would have a way out. Lan Yue could use her remaining Radiant Light Imprisonment Talisman to impede him for a while, and they could make a break for it.

That’d throw them into a very messy situation, though, and right now all Hao Zhen wanted was to burrow himself in a mattress and sleep for a week. He’d overused Ethereal String Puppetry and driven himself almost to collapse twice already today, and he could really use some rest and recovery. Stamina pills could only keep him going for so long.

Just by itself, the very idea that having a trump card might land them in trouble was already enough to give Hao Zhen a headache.

After Tian Jin finished recounting their mission in Gentle Green Valley and Ke Li’s assassination attempt, as he was about to get started on their debrief on the Missing Hall, Bao Shan raised his hand.

Tian Jin immediately ceased speaking, and Hao Zhen found himself the target of Bao Shan’s attention. “Disciple Hao Zhen, as you were also involved, I also need to ask you some questions before we can proceed,” Bao Shan said. “Can you recall who was the disciple it was that gave you the mission?”

Hao Zhen scrambled to put his thoughts in order. “I’m afraid she never gave me her name.”

Bao Shan’s usual thorough questioning followed, and Hao Zhen did his best to describe the woman from the Mission Hall, though he couldn’t remember too many details. It had been well over a month now, and at the time, he’d been far more concerned about the mission than the disciple informing him of it.

Many more questions followed, and Hao Zhen found himself giving his full account of the events in Gentle Green Valley. Bao Shan then had Lan Yue give her own account of the same events, though he didn’t press her for details nearly as much as he’d pressed Hao Zhen and Tian Jin. Whether that was because Bao Shan already had two exhaustive accounts of the events or because he knew her true identity, Hao Zhen couldn’t tell, but he was leaning toward the latter.

Once Lan Yue was done, Bao Shan returned his attention to Tian Jin and had him recount their return to the sect and their debriefing in the Mission Hall. Hao Zhen’s and Lan Yue’s accounts of the same events followed.

Then the moment came—Tian Jin finished going over their fight with Du Qing’s cousin Du Jian and his group and moved on to the inner elder’s arrival and their subsequent escape.

“We managed to… halt the elder momentarily,” Tian Jin said. It was the first time since the start of the interrogation that he had shown any signs of hesitation. “We then escaped on Ke Li’s magical cloud.”

Hao Zhen waited for the question to come. Instead, Bao Shan glanced at Lan Yue, who winced.

“I see,” Bao Shan said simply. “And then?”

“While we were running away, I felt as if something was calling me from far away,” Tian Jin said. “The call was coming from a specific direction, so we decided to fly towards it. We ended up in a clearing with a waterfall. Behind it, we found a cave.”

“Hmmm.” Bao Shan leaned forward in his seat. “Proceed.”

Hao Zhen kept an eye trained on Bao Shan as Tian Jin told him about finding Protector Na Ren’s corpse, the Radiant Light Sword, and how they’d utilized the arrays on the cave and the sword to kill the inner elder after them, then the inner disciple. As it turned out, Tian Jin’s discretion didn’t extend particularly far.

At the mention of the Radiant Light Sword, Bao Shan’s eyebrows jumped, but that was the extent of his reaction. Oddly, there weren’t any interruptions from the prime elder as Tian Jin went over the events that took place in the cave.

Tian Jin seemed to have found Bao Shan’s silence as odd as Hao Zhen did. “Next would be our confrontation with Du Qing this morning,” Tian Jin said. “Should I continue, or…”

Bao Shan didn’t answer at first. Rather, he only stared at Tian Jin, his gaze so intense that Hao Zhen could feel it even though it wasn’t directed at him. “I’d like to see the Radiant Light Sword first,” Bao Shan eventually said, his voice even more controlled than usual, almost tight.

Here we go. Hao Zhen let the tension he was feeling run through his body unhindered, readying his muscles in case he suddenly needed to move.

Without a word, Tian Jin produced the sword from his spatial ring.

“May I?” Bao Shan asked, and Tian Jin handed him the sword.

With a bated breath, Hao Zhen watched Bao Shan study the sword, looking it over almost reverently as he turned it this way and that. Then Bao Shan ran his left hand over the blade, before inspecting his unharmed palm. “You used this sword to kill the inner elder?” Bao Shan finally asked.

“That’s correct.”

After scrutinizing the sword a few moments longer, Bao Shan handed it back to Tian Jin. “Channel spiritual power into it.”

Tian Jin nodded, then held the sword out in front of him. The inscriptions on the blade lit up.

Bao Shan inhaled sharply. He looked from the sword to Tian Jin. “Do you know what this means?”

“Only a descendant of the sect’s founder can activate it,” Tian Jin said quietly. The sword stopped glowing.

“Correct,” Bao Shan said. “I’ve never asked you about your background.”

“You haven’t,” Tian Jin agreed. He didn’t elaborate further.

Bao Shan gave Tian Jin a long, searching look. Then, with a sigh, he sunk into his chair. “This complicates things. There are people in the sect who wouldn’t appreciate the sudden appearance of a descendant from the founder. Particularly one as talented as you. There are those who’d feel… threatened by your presence.”

Bao Shan glanced at Lan Yue, who looked as confused as Hao Zhen felt. Then Bao Shan gave her another look, one loaded with some meaning Hao Zhen failed to catch, and her eyes widened in clear realization. Then she paled, only adding to Hao Zhen’s own confusion. Tian Jin only reacted with the faintest of frowns, taking the implied warning in stride.

“I must keep my possible connection to the founder a secret, then?” Tian Jin asked.

“Precisely.”

Tian Jin ran his eyes over the Radiant Light Sword. He still held it in his grasp, propped on the table. “And the sword?”

Bao Shan eyed the sword as if it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. He made no move to retrieve it from Tian Jin. “You may hold onto it, at least for the time being. You did find it, and as a descendant of the founder, it is your birthright. Avoid letting others see it, however, and use it only as a last resort. There’s still the matter of your bloodline, and other elders might disagree with me on this matter and see fit to take it from you.”

That got a rare, small smile out of Tian Jin, who thanked the elder.

Whatever warm feelings Tian Jin felt to warrant that smile, Hao Zhen most certainly didn’t share them. Rather, a shiver crawled down his spine, and he did his best not to stare directly at the elder, instead fixing his eyes on the large banner with the Blazing Light Sect in front of him.

Based on everything he’d seen of Bao Shan, and on what he understood about the significance of the Radiant Light Sword, he doubted Bao Shan would have normally let Tian Jin keep the sword. So either this was the Weave at play, ensuring that Tian Jin got to keep his shiny new toy, or Bao Shan was up to something.

This wasn’t the worst-case scenario, but it could very well turn into something close. He would have to talk to Tian Jin later about surrendering the Radiant Light Sword to another elder. Lan Yue had mentioned earlier that her grandfather was related to the sect’s founder, so he’d be a good choice. The sword was useful, sure, but it was only a matter of time before Tian Jin outgrew it, and if Bao Shan really wanted to kill them later to get his hands on the sword, that’d throw a wrench in his plans. A good trade-off, as far as Hao Zhen was concerned. And if the Weave did want Tian Jin to keep the sword, Lan Yue’s grandfather would tell them to keep it. That’d cover their bases.

The rest of the questioning proceeded smoothly, and after they went over this morning’s confrontation with Du Qing, Bao Shan saw fit to reveal how he’d wound up there with his daughter. “The hunt for the inner disciples ended last week. Upon his return, Du Qing claimed he’d spend the following days training in seclusion, but I happened to catch him sneaking out of the compounds. I followed him from a distance, all the way to the Glistening Stone Forest. Bao Yun was with me when I sighted him, and she insisted on following.”

That was one of Hao Zhen’s biggest questions about this whole situation explained. Now that he had a proper explanation for Bao Shan’s and Bao Yun’s presence in the forest, he found himself a little more at ease. Not too much, because Bao Shan could be lying, but at least he had an explanation now, even if it wasn’t necessarily the explanation.

“Now, I understand you’ve killed several disciples, as well as an inner elder,” Bao Shan said. “I find that your accounts, as well as what I’ve witnessed, sufficient to declare it a clear case of self-defense, so you’ll face no repercussion over their death. I will, however, require their corpses, which I understand you have in your spatial rings. Protector Na Ren’s corpse, as well.”

Bao Shan reached into a drawer on his side of the desk and produced four spatial rings. He set them down on the table. “Store the corpses in one of the rings. In the others, store your spoils from the Glistening Stone Hunt. I’ll later see the rings with the spoils delivered to the elder responsible or the Outer Hunt, and tomorrow someone will be sent to your residences with your rewards.”

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Hao Zhen took one of the rings and turned Tian Jin and Lan Yue. “Even split?” He wasn’t too surprised that Bao Shan, as the leader of the Justice Hall, had the power and authority to judge them and deliver their sentence—or lack thereof—on the spot. It was perfectly in line with the kind of world they lived in.

Lan Yue shrugged. Tian Jin nodded. And that was that.

Considering they’d also picked up the hunt spoils of all the disciples they’d killed, and that Tian Jin and Lan Yue were both fourth-level redsouls and unusually deadly ones, Hao Zhen doubted anyone would come even remotely close to their results.

Once the spoils had been split and the corpses transferred, Hao Zhen thought that’d be the end of it. It wasn’t.

“There’s still the matter of your promotions,” Bao Shan said to Tian Jin and Lan Yue once they handed the spatial rings back to him. “As fourth-level redsouls, both of you can already be considered inner disciples. Once we’re done here, one of the elders under me shall take you two to the Management Hall to induct you as inner disciples.”

Hao Zhen couldn’t help but notice how none of that applied to him. Envy took a dainty little stab at him. Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow he’d be taking the Shimmering Light Pill, and afterward he’d also qualify for the Inner Court.

Bao Shan grabbed a pair of jade slips from one of the shelves on his desk and handed them to Tian Jin and Lan Yue. “Two weeks from now, the Drifting Clouds Conference will be held—an event attended by all sects near Drifting Clouds City in which resource allocation and similar matters are discussed. What matters to you is that after the talks, a fighting competition is held between the disciples of the participating sects, and the upper echelons of the sects base many of their dealings on the result of that competition. This is a tradition that began many centuries ago, proposed by the Drifting Clouds Palace as a stand-in for war between sects whenever there’s a conflict of interests.

“A week from now, the sect will hold a competition between the inner, prime, and core disciples to determine who’ll be part of the delegation the sect will send to the Conference. Based on what I’ve seen of your performance this morning, there’s no doubt you two will be chosen.” He gave Tian Jin and Lan Yue a meaningful look. “Everything you need to know about the Drifting Clouds Conference is in those jade slips. Perform well enough, and the rewards you receive will beggar those of the Glistening Stone Hunt.”

A competition. Hao Zhen eased up. He could work with that. He’d been concerned by how Bao Shan seemed to be outright excluding him from this conversation, but he was fine as long as he had a chance to fight for a position. He had already beaten an inner disciple, one at a higher level at that.

Having come this far, there was no way he was about to allow himself to be left behind by Tian Jin and Lan Yue.

Bao Shan closed his eyes for a moment, “An elder will be waiting back where we first arrived to take you two to the Management Hall to have your promotion processed. Disciple Hao Zhen, I’ve also arranged for an elder to take you back to the residential area of the Outer Court. Disciple Duo Lan, I trust you know the way?”

Lan Yue hesitated for a beat, then said, “I do.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

Hao Zhen frowned, then schooled his expression. He’d have liked to know what exactly Du Qing’s fate would be.

As he was considering whether to just ask, Lan Yue, who’d already gotten up and was standing beside her chair, asked, “What will happen to Du Qing?”

“He’ll be interrogated,” Bao Shan said, not even requiring a moment to consider the matter. “Just this morning, he broke several sect laws. From your accounts, he’s broken many more, and I believe there are many other infractions he’s committed you three are unaware of. We must also determine who else he’s worked with.” Then Bao Shan’s already severe expression turned almost chilling. “Regardless of whatever truths we uncover, however, he’ll be executed. On their own, both his attempt at desertion and the act of taking a fellow disciple hostage are grounds for death.”

“And the method?” Lan Yue asked.

“The one reserved for the worst offenders. Immolation. Blazing.” Bao Shan looked to the side and cast his eyes out one of the windows behind his desk. “His ashes will be used as fertilizer for the sect’s gardens.”

Hao Zhen followed Bao Shan’s gaze out the window. There was a small garden in the courtyard outside the office. He hadn’t noticed it before.

“When?” Lan Yue demanded. “And will it be public?”

Still looking out the window, Bao Shan said, “Sometime before the Conference. And it’ll be a private execution. Despite the crimes he has committed, Du Qing is still my disciple. I will not make a spectacle of his death.” Bao Shan turned away from the window and leveled Lan Yue with a stern look. When he spoke next, he sounded almost chiding. But there was also a paternal touch to it, like a father reprimanding his daughter. “Now, Lan Yue, I believe you’ve already been dismissed. So dismiss yourself.”

Lan Yue’s eyes widened. “You—” She whipped her head towards the doors. Hao Zhen turned to look together with her. It was still closed. Lan Yue huffed, turned back, shot Bao Shan a frosty look, then cut across the room in large strides, threw the doors open, and stalked down the corridor.

Bao Shan watched her go, impassive as usual, then dismissed Hao Zhen and Tian Jin with a nod.

Hao Zhen and Tian Jin made their way out of the room. A few steps into the corridor, Hao Zhen glanced back. The doors of Bao Shan’s office remained open. Bao Shan had gone back to looking out the window. Hao Zhen sighed and carried on down the corridor.

He wasn’t sure of what Tian Jin and Lan Yue had made out of their conversation with Bao Shan, but he knew his own thoughts.

And he doubted that the matter of the Radiant Light Sword was solved.

Or that they’d seen the last of Du Qing.

II

Take my daughter hostage. Play along.

Back against the wall, Du Qing sat on the floor of his cell. The only source of light was the small window above his head.

He knew exactly where he was. He’d been here many times before, sometimes with his master, sometimes alone, to lock up lawbreakers awaiting judgment. One of the Justice Hall’s holding cells, on the first floor of the main building. It didn’t have any particular safety measures, though it didn’t need to. After removing the Radiant Sealing Talisman his master had used on him, the two inner elders who had brought him here had used a standard soul-suppressing talisman on him. His aura was suppressed, and his spiritual power was inert. He was about as powerless as a graysoul right now.

It had been a long time since he’d last felt this cold. Without aura, he was once again at the mercy of the elements. The smooth stone floor was freezing, and so were the walls, and he’d much rather be standing. The cold was an old, bitter enemy he’d long thought defeated. He could still remember that day—when Bao Yun had found him, shivering, in the streets in the height of winter, one frozen foot away from death.

But he was exhausted. It’d been several hours since he’d been brought here, and after two hours of pacing around the room, he’d grown tired—though that had more to do with his fight with Tian Jin earlier that day.

Sore from standing. Pathetic. He’d forgotten how stupidly frail a graysoul’s body was. Or rather, he’d made himself forget.

But it could be worse.

Hesitantly, he prodded his right shoulder, which still felt rather numb. Before leaving, one of the inner elders had given him a healing pill. He shuddered at the thought of that pain. Once the adrenaline had fled him, while he was still sealed up by the Radiant Sealing Talisman, he’d known pain like no other as the wound on his shoulder made itself heard. He’d been in worse ways before, as a graysoul, but after a while, the chill of the cold transformed into more of a lulling pull into oblivion, pain giving way to apathy. With his shoulder, he had no such luck, so the pill had been a Heavens-send.

Du Qing let his hands hang by his side, dropping by his side. He felt the urge to curl up, to bunch his knees together against his chest and hold onto whatever warmth his body still retained, but he was better than that. Someone could arrive at any moment, and he had an image to maintain. Instead, he forced himself to keep his back straight and his legs crossed, and brought his hands to rest over his thighs. Whatever urge to shiver he felt, he killed with prejudice. Should anyone look at him, they’d see a man in control. He may have lost his power, but he still had his pride.

Or at least what remained of it.

Today had been a day of many firsts, all of them unwelcome. The first time he’d ever been so severely wounded. The first time he’d ever been so thoroughly outclassed—outclassed at all, really—in a fight against someone at the same level. And the first time he caught a glimpse of his master’s hidden depths. He didn’t know which one of those firsts was the worst, but there was little doubt as to which one was the most concerning.

Take my daughter hostage. Play along.

The words echoed in his mind. Taunted him. A tantalizing truth at his fingertips.

He’d always known that there was more to Bao Shan than the eye. You didn’t rise to the position he had by being as righteous as he portrayed himself as. You didn’t become the leader of the Justice Hall as a mundaneborn without playing the game. He’d grossly underestimated just how much of himself his master kept beneath the surface.

Footsteps came from the corridor, and Du Qing focused on the door, readying himself. It’d been at least an hour since he’d been dumped in his cell, and it was his first time hearing someone come near.

The same inner elders from before appeared. Wordlessly, one of them motioned for him to stand up. Du Qing complied, moving with ease he didn’t feel. They brought him down the corridor, and into an adjacent wing. Within the first few moments he’d already known where they were headed, and so he strode towards their destination, setting the pace even though he was the one being supposedly escorted. The elders probably knew what he was doing, but they said nothing.

Du Qing knew those two—they were Bao Shan’s men through and through, and even though he’d seen them more times than he could through the years, he could count on two hands the number of times he’d seen them speak. They were the perfect subordinates—loyal to fault, and almost entirely devoid of desires, or even a sense of self. Leagues better than any of the men Du Qing had managed to recruit over the years.

He’d used to think they were wasted on a man like Bao Shan. A blind fool—that’s what I was. Du Qing smiled. He couldn’t help it. Bao Shan had outplayed him so thoroughly that he had no choice but to admire it.

Once they stepped into the corridor where the interrogation rooms were, he slowed, letting his escort lead him to the correct one. They came to a stop in front of one of the doors near the end of the corridor. One of the elders stayed by his side, whereas the other one knocked, then opened the door.

Bao Shan immediately caught Du Qing’s eye. His master stood directly opposite the door, sitting down in front of a large table that took up most of the room. In front of him, on the table, was a single jade slip and a black pill box.

Without needing to be prompted, Du Qing stepped inside the room, and the inner elders, who’d remained outside, closed the door. Du Qing then sat down on the only other chair in the room, facing Bao Shan from the other side of the table.

Like all of the sect’s interrogation rooms, it was bare save for the table and the chairs, and entirely built from cold white stone. But unlike the holding cells, interrogation rooms came with soundproofing matrixes. He could see them inscribed on the walls, floor, and ceiling. Whatever happened inside the room, whatever sounds left their mouths, wouldn’t be heard by anyone outside.

“Here’s what will happen,” Bao Shan said. As usual, his master spared no time for something as meaningless as a preamble. “A week from now, Du Qing will die. Death by blazing.”

Du Qing caught the implication immediately. He was no stranger to this kind of dance. Except, when he danced, he was usually the leader, rather than the follower. And he was still coming to terms that it was his master—uptight, righteous Bao Shan—he was dancing with now. “Let me guess. That Du Qing isn’t necessarily me?”

“If you cooperate, yes,” Bao Shan said, simply. “You may give up your name for someone else. Let another Du Qing die in your place.”

Du Qing drummed his fingers on the table, letting their movement serve as an outlet for all the anxiety he felt, focusing on their rhythm rather than that of his racing heart. “But that would leave me without a name. Without an identity.”

“You’d receive another.”

“And what do you gain from it?” Du Qing asked. Because that was the question. That was always the question. He affected confidence, but something dark and heavy twisted in his guts.

He was about to sell his soul. There was little doubt he’d take the offer, regardless of what it was. But the offer was still important. The conditions would set the rules of the game, and depending on what he could glean from it, he might just glimpse a way out.

“You’d do whatever I tell you to do,” Bao Shan said, and Du Qing had to expend real, significant effort to stop himself from balling his hands into fists. “Your life will would be mine, and I’d do with it as I saw fit.”

That was no taunt, but a simple statement of a fact. There was no gloating in Bao Shan’s expression. His words didn’t drip with malice. He spoke, and acted, as he always did.

Hard. Impassive. Disciplined.

“And why would I comply?”

Bao Shan pushed the pill box in front of him forward. “Because you’ll take the pill inside of it. And then you’ll need the antidote.”

Du Qing eyed the box but made no move to take it. He was hardly surprised. “And this antidote—it’ll be a temporary one? One that must be taken constantly? Every week, perhaps?”

“Every fortnight.”

Fortnight? Du Qing took a moment to consider that. Every fortnight would give him quite a bit of freedom. It made for a rather long leash. Whatever Bao Shan had planned for him likely involved long-term assignments.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll keep your name.”

And die a burning, gruesome death a week from now, went unsaid.

Du Qing opened the box. Inside it was a yellow-colored pill. It had no scent. He picked up the pill, rolled it between his fingers. “Why that farce from earlier? Why have me take Bao Yun hostage? You could've used Radiant Light Barrier on me from the beginning.”

Bao Shan only stared at him. He said nothing, but Du Qing understood it all the same.

“You never approved of the two of us, did you?” The role Bao Shan had him play earlier must’ve done a good job of burning all bridges with Bao Yun. Even if he somehow managed to escape from Bao Shan’s control later, he’d be hard-pressed to convince Bao Yun he’d only moved against her because her father had forced his hand.

“She can do better,” Bao Shan said, with all the certainty of the father who didn’t want his daughter involved with the street rat he and his daughter had picked up all those years ago, no matter how he’d grown since then.

Du Qing took the pill. Felt it slide down his throat and settle in his stomach.

“I’ll kill you,” Du Qing said. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. It wasn’t a threat. Just like Bao Shan always did, he simply stated a fact. “Not now, but I’ll kill you eventually.”

And Tian Jin. And Hao Zhen. And Duo Lan.

And whoever else stood in his way. Past, present, and future.

“You’ll try,” Bao Shan said. Then he pushed the jade slip towards him. “You’ll record the full list of crimes you’ve committed, and everyone you’ve worked with.”

Du Qing grabbed the jade slip. “I’m more useful to you with my men.”

“I’m aware. Over the week, we’ll discuss which ones you’ll get to keep, and which ones will be… sacrificed.”

Du Qing sighed, then closed his eyes and got to work. He wouldn’t include everyone. There was little doubt Bao Shan had been keeping track of his actions from the beginning and had an idea of his associates. But there were those Du Qing was sure Bao Shan didn’t know. People outside the sect. And it’d be through them that he’d find a solution to the poison he’d taken.

He didn’t know what Bao Shan wanted yet, but he’d find out. And he’d derive no little pleasure from tearing all the man’s plans apart.

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