Before the ancestral shrine, all lay in wreckage.
The remnant-soul energy of the savage beast, once bound by the formation, now raged and overflowed, rising like a black wolf-smoke straight to the sky, churning the winds and clouds. At the base of the stele, precious soul-settling spirit-jade lay shattered across the ground, chaotic torrents of spiritual power darting every which way.
Before the Soul-Suppressing Stele, the two sides of clan children were sharply divided, weapons all but drawn, the light of spirit-energy flickering on and off between them — plainly they had already been through a fierce clash.
Yun Shuo was shielded behind Yun Li, Yun Yao, and a few other concubine-born children he was usually close with. His small face was deathly pale, his robe still smudged with a bit of dust — plainly he had gotten the worse of it. Across from him, Yun Hao, thronged by a crowd of trueborn children, wore a face of arrogance and rancor as he pointed at Yun Shuo and cursed furiously: "A mere baseborn spawn, and you dare collide with me! Disturbing the Soul-Suppressing Stele — can you bear the weight of that?!"
At that very moment, an indescribable, vast pressure descended abruptly, like the Ninth Heaven overturning!
Everyone — whether the quarreling children or the stewards trying to mediate — felt as though an invisible great hand had seized them by the throat, losing their voices in an instant. The clamorous scene turned deathly still; even that savage-beast energy rushing to the sky seemed to congeal for a moment.
A figure, at some unknown moment, had come quietly to stand at the shrine gate.
Yun Huang!
His gilt brocade robe flowed with a luster like molten gold; by contrast, his face was cold and detached, his golden eyes sweeping icily across the whole field. Without a single word, he set the souls of all the children trembling; trueborn and baseborn alike, with one accord, lowered their heads, even breathing become a great difficulty.
Yun Huang's gaze fell on the crack in the Soul-Suppressing Stele. That crack carved itself into the depths of his eyes; the cold, bone-piercing malice all but turned to substance. His line of sight swept past Yun Shuo and the others, carrying undisguised revulsion, and came at last to rest upon Yun Qing, who stood quietly to one side as though sealed off from all this turmoil.
"You handle it." Three feather-light words echoed above the shrine.
"Yes, Young Lord." Yun Qing, upright and open in his green robe, clasped his hands with a smile.
Swish!
Everyone's gaze focused in an instant on that single green robe.
Yun Qing's broad sleeves stirred lightly in the breeze of spiritual pressure, for all the world like a graceful man of letters out for a spring stroll — utterly out of place with the grim, wreck-strewn air of the shrine.
His face was calm as still water. He did not look at the two sides of the conflict; his deep Double Pupils locked directly onto that hideous crack in the stele.
Where others saw only a place ravaged by violent energy, in his vision he clearly caught a trace of the faintest sinister, evil aura, coiled about the edge of the crack like an abscess clinging to bone — by no means the residue that an ordinary clash of spiritual power could leave.
'So someone did tamper with it.' Yun Qing sneered inwardly. Killing with a borrowed knife — the method was concealed well enough, but a pity: it could not be hidden from his eyes.
Beneath the eyes of the multitude, Yun Qing stepped forward, raised his right hand slightly, fingers pressed together like a blade, and lightly, idly, drew a line through the void.
"Zheng—!"
A clear, ardent spear-cry, as though rising from beneath the Nine Nethers and coming down out of remote antiquity, abruptly tore apart the deathly stillness of the scene. A black spear-radiance, condensed to the utmost and wound about with the intent of chaotic annihilation, appeared out of thin air at the center of the field.
That spear-radiance was no solid thing, yet it gave off a terrible aura that devoured all light and heat, as though it could rend even space itself.
"Dong"!
A soft sound — the spear-radiance nailed itself with pinpoint precision into that raging pillar of energy.
The instant the raging energy touched the black spear-radiance, it was devoured and annihilated! Along with the disordered spirit-energy all around, and even the light and sound, all were swallowed clean by that single point of spear-radiance.
Outside the shrine, an uncanny stillness fell.
The spear-radiance dispersed, and the two combatant sides were pushed apart by a gentle yet irresistible force, each staggering back several steps, their faces full of shock.
And Yun Qing still stood where he was, upright and open in his green robe, his sleeves hanging light, the jade hairpin binding his hair not a strand out of place, the ring-pendants at his waist not having given off the slightest sound. As though that world-anchoring strike just now had not come from his hand at all.
To lift a great weight as though it were light — nothing surpassed this.
Only then did he look toward the pale-faced Yun Shuo and the disbelieving Yun Hao, his voice not loud, yet carrying clearly into every ear: "As for how this came about — go to the Discipline Hall and state it truthfully yourselves. Destroying a treasured implement of the shrine and engaging in private armed combat will be judged under the third and seventh articles of clan law. And any who dare stir up trouble in this place again—"
He paused, a secret light flashing in his Double Pupils, and a cold killing-aura blanketed the whole field in an instant. "—will be punished without mercy!"
His green robe unruffled, his ring-pendants silent — the free, elegant exterior and the overbearing method formed a stark contrast that shook every person present to the core.
Yun Qing showed neither favoritism nor indulgence, the measure of it judged to a nicety.
Amid the crowd, Yun Li's pupils shrank abruptly, his heart a tangle beyond reading.
"I'm a trueborn son!" Over there, Yun Hao, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, leapt up all at once, his face twisted with terror. "He, Yun Shuo, a mere baseborn spawn — is he fit to share the same sentence as me? You're nothing but a—" He was frantic with anxiety; this matter could on no account be let through to the Discipline Hall's deep inquiry.
Yun Huang stood at the edge of the field, taking it all in. Hearing the two words "baseborn spawn," he at last gave Yun Hao a look — only, the light in his eyes was cold and bone-piercing, as though regarding a dead thing.
Yun Huang did not lash out directly, only gave a mild wave of his hand for the stewards to take everyone down. He had, after all, made it plain: today's matter was for Yun Qing to handle in full.
The stewards at the side hurried forward and led away Yun Hao, Yun Shuo, and every child involved, with the utmost efficiency.
Yun Huang stepped over before Yun Qing, that daunting pressure quietly reined in, an obvious approval and gentleness flashing in his golden eyes. His gaze fell on Yun Qing's green robe, smudged with a bit of dust, and he said, with deep meaning: "A green robe binding the body can quell chaos, too. It seems dress is no hindrance after all."
Yun Qing's heart tightened; he knew what was coming could not, in the end, be dodged. He lifted his eyes to Yun Huang, a trace of helplessness flashing in his Double Pupils, but more than that, a frank composure: "The Young Lord overpraises."
"In that case," Yun Huang turned and stepped off toward Qiwu Hall, his gilt robe snapping in the morning light, his voice carrying a certainty that brooked no refusal, "come back with me to the training ground. That invitation just now — it's time to make it good."
Yun Qing gazed at his upright back, his green robe billowing faintly in the wind, battle-intent kindling in his Double Pupils, his eyes bright. To cross hands with a reincarnated Immortal Emperor — even in defeat, there was glory.
"Yes." He answered, stepped out, and steadily followed.
The morning light was faint, drawing the two figures long across the ancient stone road. One like a proud sun riding the heavens, radiant beyond measure; one like a deep pool, a cold abyss, still water running deep.
A long-delayed spar was now an arrow on the string.