Yun Qing gazed at the figure standing with hands clasped behind him in the field, and at once a sense of foreboding rose in his heart. Today's dress of his was hardly meant for martial combat — and besides, to trade blows with this reincarnated Immortal Emperor was no "training a bit"; it was plainly "taking a beating."
Yun Huang turned around, his pale-golden eyes flowing with an unfathomable light in the dawn glow. He paused an instant on that green robe of Yun Qing's, so out of place with the training ground, and hooked an elusive curve at the corner of his lips, as though he had seen through that little scheme of his.
Yun Qing collected himself and simply struck first. He stepped briskly into the field, came to Yun Huang's side, and bowed in salute, his voice gentle and respectful: "Good morning, Young Lord."
Yun Huang gave a slight nod. Perhaps from coming here to practice so early, there was a not-very-obvious crease at the collar of his gilt brocade robe, slightly at odds with his usual impeccable bearing.
Yun Qing took half a step forward, his bearing composed, a wisp of gentle spiritual power gathered at his fingertip, and, ever so lightly and swiftly, brushed across that crease, smoothing Yun Huang's lapel neatly into place. As he drew back his hand it grazed the man's shoulder in passing, the motion natural.
"The Young Lord's appearance should be as the sun and moon crossing the heavens — no slight flaw to be suffered." He lowered his eyes and, under cover of tidying the hem, closed the distance by a trace without leaving a trace, then swiftly withdrew within the safe boundary again.
Yun Huang's body stiffened for an instant, his golden eyes falling on the hand tidying his hem.
His own fingertips curled unconsciously — yet in the end he did not evade.
"You are... rather attentive."
Yun Qing straightened. The cloud-patterned jade pendant at his hem knocked together, giving off a crisp sound. He gestured at his own attire today, his tone carrying a just-right touch of helplessness:
"If the Young Lord will permit Qing to explain — look at this green robe: sleeves bound, waist cinched, all to suit the duty of an attendant, so that even the flow of spiritual power must be reined in by three parts. Were I truly to fight, I fear the stance would not yet be set before the garment split first — which would both lose face before the Lord and slight the Young Lord's gracious wish to spar." These words both declined by way of the garment's inconvenience and slyly praised sparring with Yun Huang as a matter of honor, giving him every step down he needed.
Yun Huang swept a glance over that elegant robe of his, his gaze pausing faintly. It was not, after all, wholly a pretext...
Today's green robe set off Yun Qing's figure as upright and slender, but the cinched waist bound tight the key acupoints for the flow of spiritual power, and the cloud-patterned jade pendant weighting the hem leaned toward settling the spirit rather than serving as protective gear — truly not fitting dress for combat.
In the end Yun Huang only gave a mild "Mm," and did not fly into anger.
The soothing had worked.
Yun Qing smiled, bright and open, gentle and free beyond telling. "Then Qing thanks the Young Lord for his understanding."
That smile dazzled Yun Huang into a brief daze. Yesterday, on the formation-diagram, he had been undone by a single word from Yun Qing — and though he had benefited greatly, the competitive heart of a peerless prodigy deep within him had been faintly provoked, so that today he did indeed harbor the notion of "reclaiming face" through a spar.
But... never mind. It was not as though they had to spar this very moment; why was Yun Qing putting on such an air.
Just as Yun Huang was about to let him off for now and turned to sweep away his sleeve—
"Swish!"
A black shadow appeared like a phantom, dropped to one knee, its voice urgent yet respectful: "Reporting to the Young Lord — Steward Jia of the Discipline Office begs an audience on an urgent matter!"
Granted leave, Steward Jia rushed onto the training ground and dropped to his knees with a thud, his voice carrying an uncontrollable tremor:
"R-reporting to the Young Lord — a mishap has occurred outside the ancestral shrine. Yun Shuo, the concubine-born seventh son of the clan head's line, and Yun Hao, the trueborn fourth son of the Fifth Elder's line, came into conflict; in the chaos they actually cracked the 'Soul-Suppressing Stele' at the shrine gate!"
The moment the three words "Soul-Suppressing Stele" were out, it was like a thunderclap bursting.
Yun Huang's brows drew faintly together, and that faint, subtle sentiment toward his elder brother that had only just risen was in an instant replaced by a cold severity. The aura around him sank abruptly; his gilt brocade robe stirred though there was no wind, like the deathly stillness of pressure before a blazing sun bursts, covering the sky and blanketing the earth as it bore down.
The air across the whole training ground seemed to freeze.
Steward Jia was ground flat to the earth by this pressure, blood seeping from mouth and nose, even breathing become a luxury.
Even Yun Qing felt a stab of pain in his Double Pupils; the Chaos Dao Embryo circulated of its own accord before he could just barely withstand this crushing force. The smile on his face vanished in an instant, and his heart sank hard.
"The gall of them." Yun Huang's voice was cold as ten-thousand-year ice.
The Soul-Suppressing Stele was that archaic stone stele from the Spirit-Testing Rite which displayed one's talent. As a treasured implement of the Yun ancestral shrine, its use went far beyond that. Upon the stele were carved the inscribed marks of every past clan head; it held a power to suppress evil, sealing down the divine soul of a primordial savage beast.
With the Yun Clan's foundation, and with his standing as the Yun Clan's Eldest Young Master — never mind the stele merely cracking; even if the savage beast's soul broke through the stele and came out, it would be nothing. Suppress it again, and that would be that.
But only a very few knew that beneath the Soul-Suppressing Stele lay a connection to the forbidden ground of the ancestral shrine — and that was precisely the place where Yun Huang, in that year, had taken form from immortal-essence.
This was no ordinary spirit-implement, but a sacred object that touched Yun Huang's reverse scale!
Yun Shuo... how could he have been dragged into a thing like this?
Yun Qing looked at that dangerous back ahead, like a savage beast of the primordial wilds, and knew the trouble was great. Yun Shuo and the others did not know the inside of it — they likely took it for nothing but an ordinary trueborn-versus-baseborn squabble.
The drinker's heart was not in the wine.
Yun Qing could not help but sigh inwardly: Shuo'er and the rest had picked a truly poor moment. He had only just coaxed the man into a good mood, and now he'd bristled up all over again.
This was no sun — a Golden Crow was more like it.
At so pressing a moment, there abruptly surfaced in Yun Qing's mind a little yellow chick, fur bristling, spitting fire in all directions.
"Pfft — cough!"
Startled by his own imagining, Yun Qing truly could not hold it back and coughed, making a sound.
Yun Huang, in the midst of his fury, was cut off all at once. His golden eyes swept sharply toward Yun Qing, who had made the sound, carrying a measure of scrutiny. He remembered, of course, that Yun Shuo was this man's full brother of the same mother.
Had it been the day before yesterday, he might well have vented his anger on Yun Qing along with the rest; but recalling the little moments of yesterday's company, and the hand that had just now smoothed his collar for him... Yun Huang's motion paused, and in the end he did not lash out.
He could hardly, one instant allowing the man close, the very next lay a charge on him for his brother's fault — he had no split-soul affliction. Yun Qing had attended him two days; fierce of temper as he was, he was not so far gone as to deny him even this much face.
Yun Huang turned and issued his order: "You, come with me. This matter — you handle it." The words fell, and his figure had already turned into a streak of flowing light, sweeping off toward the ancestral shrine.
Yun Qing understood at once. His green robe swept, and he followed close behind.
This matter could be made great or small — for in the end, what had been privately offended was Yun Huang, and it still rested on whether the offended party himself chose to pursue it.