215. Interlude - Sect Elders

Elder Shakti Exotropay, Head of External Affairs, combed her luscious brown hair as she waited for all the Clear Water elders to arrive.

Even as a mortal, she had prided herself on her flawless hair. All her teachers had told her that body affinity Mana focused on hair was a feeble idea, yet who stood at the Visionary realm now, fifty thousand years later?

The elders’ conclave chamber lay tens of thousands of feet beneath the visible structures of the sect. It was at the center of an ancient Natural Inheritance of water that Gideon and his followers had harnessed to create the sect.

The chamber itself was a massive spherical cavity carved into that Natural Inheritance, a living coral that stretched for miles on end. The ceiling was a perfect dome of crystalwater, allowing a view to the flora and fauna that marked the depths.

Because of the coral reef, there were always hundreds of fish swimming just outside their chamber, many of them beasts that had begun to cultivate due to the ridiculous concentration of Mana in the area. 

Their meeting hall was simple and without adornment, formed from the softly glowing flesh of the coral itself. 

Twenty-eight chairs surrounded a central coral table. One chair stood higher than the rest—the seat reserved for their matriarch, Loroa di Boswann, better known by her Dao name: The Perfect. 

If any of the elders objected to the presumptuousness of her title, none had ever brought up their concerns.

No, Shakti amended, there were three that possibly had the privilege. 

First was Mo Duan, the ancient, and she meant truly ancient, subordinate elder of External Affairs. Her subordinate was nearly three million years old as a Profound realm, an unheard-of lifespan. 

But more troublesome was the fact that he was also the Perfect’s closest confidant—the same as for the previous sect leader, though that was before Shakti’s time.

Then there was Verryn Aylesfort. The former treasurer of the Emerald Coast, he was nearly as powerful as the Perfect. Despite his age, he had only been a part of the Clear Water for a thousand years. A newcomer in the politics of their sect, yet he had rapidly accumulated power.

Finally, there was someone that Shakti despised. The woman, no, the mermaid that sat in the Perfect’s chair in her absence. Sheeloth, the so-called “Guardian of the Depths.”

“Where is everyone?” the impudent mermaid demanded from the high chair. “I’ll have to inform Loroa that you’ve been behaving improperly.”

Elder Yan responded before she could. “Our elders have important responsibilities. If they’re late to an official convention, it can only be because of a dire circumstance.”

“Mhmm. I hope so.”

With perfect timing, two elders stepped out of the void between worlds into their seats. 

Da Rui, Head of the Cultivation Chambers, and Eamon Brittlebones, Acting Head of the Discipline Hall, while Da Siar Ka, Rui’s identical twin sister, was in seclusion. Where she had been for over a hundred years. 

“Everyone is here,” Verryn declared. While only twenty-two of the chairs were filled, that much was true. Zhenyuan, Head of Ancestral Grounds, had been in seclusion for fifteen years himself, while the other six missing elders were offworld dealing with myriad affairs. “Shall we begin with—”

Someone else stepped out of the void. This time, it was most unexpected. 

Elder Ouyang Zhenyuan of Ancestral Grounds slipped into his seat as if he hadn’t been cultivating for over a decade.

“It is good to see you, Elder Ouyang,” Verryn said, nodding respectfully toward the newcomer. “As I was saying—” 

“I must interrupt you again, Elder Aylesfort.” 

Shakti narrowed her eyes. Eamon Brittlebones speaking over a Peak Visionary?

“Deepest apologies, senior,” Eamon said, bowing his head. “The reason I am late is because a disciple has been murdered. I was interrogating a potential suspect.”

Even for a group of Peak Profounds and Visionaries, those words rippled like a wave. A disciple, murdered under their roof?

“Elder Brittlebones,” said X’loto X’loma, a full-blooded Trexian and Head of Internal Affairs. “Are you quite sure of this? You are certain this is not a tragic accident of sparring or some mission failure?”

“Elder X’loma, I would not have interrupted our senior if I weren’t certain,” Eamon replied.. “The body was found crushed into little more than a pulp in the Cultivation Chambers.”

Now that, that sent a real tsunami through the crowd of gathered elders. A murder was one thing, but a murder in their sacred Cultivation Chambers?

“Impossible,” uttered Garrick Veylan, the enormous half-giant and Head of the Armory. He and many of the less subtle elders turned directly toward Da Rui. “How could a murder occur inside your division?”

Rui, like her sister, was a short and beautiful woman of Mai Atalan heritage, with pitch black hair and ivory skin. The Late Visionary realm was also a close friend of Shakti. The snarled look on her face was not something that the Head of External Affairs had ever seen.

“You dare?!” she said, her aura of swords and force flaring. “What are you insinuating, you thick-headed bull?”

“I insinuate nothing,” he spat back. “You spend half your time dawdling around those grounds. The Perfect granted you authority over your division, like I over mine. Killing intent within my halls, my Armory? I would have immediately sensed such a thing.”

Zhen Kaila, subordinate elder under Verryn, interjected. “While Elder Veylan was more blunt than he should have been, he is correct. However, before we jump to conclusions, perhaps we should allow Elder Brittlebones to fully expound upon the circumstances?”

Verryn nodded. “Continue, elder.”

“The disciple was Xiao Zhenyu of the Xiao Clan, fourth son of Duke Xiao Lukren of Torpor Duchy. He was ranked #7,523 at the time of his death among outer disciples. The detection mechanism of his bracelet was tampered with in a manner suggesting intimate knowledge of our sect’s workings. Not that I ever suspected a foreign agent, but it lowers the probability even more. There were no aura traces of the culprit whatsoever, and when I peered backward through the timeline, I found nothing. The time of death was two days ago. I interrogated the disciple who spoke to him last, but that was a week ago, and Disciple Xiao had been cultivating for several days, alone.”

“Duke Xiao,” said Shan Mok, that horribly unmannered werewolf. As a Peak Profound, he shouldn’t have even been speaking, in Shakti’s humble opinion. “I’ve had dealings with the man before. Zhenyu is the least talented of his sons, but family comes before all else to him. He will demand answers.”

“We will give him answers,” Rui said. “I swear before my Dao I had nothing to do with this. I was occupied at that time, halfway across the continent. But still, I recognize it happened in my division, and I will not rest until I find the culprit.”

Shakti suppressed a grimace. Of course Duke Xiao would demand answers. Even during their culling trial, those from families as important as the Xiao of Torpor had a certain level of protection. 

If they “died” during the trial, the overseer would allow them to escape, albeit with a scar or two to save face. Now they’d let an actual disciple die under their protection? 

“Culprit,” Elder Ouyang said. “We all know there are two answers. Only a powerful core disciple or elder would be able to erase the Karmic ties, wipe the timeline clean, and leave no trace in the Dao itself.”

A heavy silence overtook the room. Elder Ouyang spoke true. The list of cultivators in the Clear Water Sect that could accomplish such a feat, even in the absence of Rui’s direct oversight, was less than forty. 

Sheeloth raised her hand. “I think the solution is simple. Take all the core disciples capable of a feat, and all the elders, and bring them before me. I’ll simply read your intentions. I trust that this is an acceptable, neutral outcome, as I am Loroa’s greatest friend?”

Yan Shiwu’s first words moved the table. The Head of Self-Defense was one of the four Peak Visionaries of the sect besides the Perfect, and preferred actions to words. When he spoke, others listened.

“No. You overstep yourself, Guardian. For a single Adept, son of Duke Xiao he may be, that is beneath our dignity. I shall solve this myself. Elder White, after this meeting is concluded, would you care to join me in reviewing the corpse?”

All heads turned to the eldest elder of the table, with the possible exception of Mo Duan. Elder White had joined their sect nearly a million years ago, and even back then, he looked like a decrepit old man.

He was also one of the four Peak Visionaries, and he talked even less than Elder Yan.

“It is done.”

“Good. Elder Brittlebones, you will guide us. I trust that our judgment is beyond reproach.”

Verryn slapped his hand on the table, a boom resounding through their small chamber. “This matter is settled for now. Let us move on to other topics. Shall I mention the Empress Mira Memorial Tournament?”

A shadow of anger flickered across Shakti’s face.

Just over six years ago, she had been responsible for their delegation to the tournament for inner disciples. Their abject failure had caused a severe reputational blow to the entire External Affairs division and a loss of personal face. 30th place was the lowest the Clear Water Sect had ever achieved.

The foremost reason for their sect’s decline from the top four sects to 19th was their poor performances at the Empress Mira Memorial Tournament. They had not breached the top ten in the last ten thousand years. 

The tournament was a showcase of the talents of the next generation of the Empire. As long as you were under a hundred years old and Peak Adept or lower, you could participate, though there had never been a winner not affiliated with a sect, corporation, or academy. 

“I agree that the tournament is of great import,” said Quotha Kvasha, the Hectopartiman dryad in charge of the Apothecary. “But it’s not in nearly four years. Our participants are all but chosen. Perhaps a few of the promising outer disciples will make it to Peak Adept, but experience is the queen of the battlefield.”

“I wonder.” Verryn’s sea-green eyes sparkled. “It is my opinion that we may find promising young cultivators in this recent cohort.”

“Surely you jest, Elder Aylesfort.” Elder Veylan crossed his arms around his massive chest. “They have been at the sect for one week. They would need to be at least Late Adept in four years, a pace that I cannot recall having been matched since…”

“Norman Goldhair,” Rui supplied. She had always been overly proud of her little martial nephew. Well, Shakti supposed, it was to be expected for the last disciple of the Clear Water Sect to make the round of 16. 

“Is it true he’s holding back his progress?” asked Darius Obsidian, a subordinate elder under Verryn. His skin was shiny and black, like his name suggested, deriving from a secret lineage among the Azurites. 

“My little Norman is waiting for my sister to leave seclusion,” Rui answered. “It shouldn’t be long now. I know she won’t exit until she reaches Peak Visionary.”

The table went silent immediately as Elder White began to stir. 

If you thought Elder Mo looked timeworn, Elder White was a different story. Pale as snow with thousands of wrinkles hidden in tattered black drapes, the prehistoric Visionary had the appearance of an impossibly old man. If he were a mortal, he’d be dead from old age.

No one doubted the power of the Head of the Technique Hall. In terms of importance, it ranked only behind the Contribution Hall, and some argued vice versa. While Verryn took lead in their discussions, Elder White technically outranked him. When he spoke, others listened.

“Who… of the… new… cohort,” the elder said slowly, his hoarse voice hanging on every syllable, “do you… reference… Verryn?”

Verryn let out a small chuckle—nothing improper, but an old man bound by tradition could argue otherwise. Even with her 50 thousand years at the sect, from her low beginnings as a Prime Initiate, she hadn’t gotten a read on Elder White. 

The Head of the Contribution Hall nodded at Elder Yan. “Your nephew is, by all accounts, first on the list. His control over the familial soulfire is impressive for his age. I can personally vouch for his abilities. Once he is tempered, he shall become a shining sword for our sect.”

Elder Yan’s face grew into a wicked smile. Despite his power, he was one of the rare Visionaries of the Yan Clan who didn’t use soulfire. Shakti shuddered at that man’s aura. The Perfect’s Mad Dog, they called him. 

“My nephew is my sister’s pride and joy. And mine.”

“Furthermore, there are Helena Kladen and Ka Zhongting, whom I can also personally attest to. Berengar Sturmklinge—”

That name drew a certain aura over the elders. If they were discussing amongst themselves, they did so mentally. Shakti thought it rude. 

Leofric Sturmklinge, the “Future of the Disputed Shard,” was a man that was already considered to be a future Visionary, that was the extent of his talent. He was the betting favorite for the overall victor of the tournament in four years, despite only just breaching the Adept realm. 

If his twin brother had received even a tenth of his talent, he could bring great honor to the Clear Water Sect.

“—has been in his brother’s shadow his entire life. I cannot claim to have met the young Leofric, but I suspect that Berengar’s had to learn a few tricks to compensate. I found his insight to be clear and precise—he has the instincts of a true cultivator. Speaking of the instincts of a true cultivator, I would be remiss not to mention Alistair Tan, the Prime Initiate.”

Hmph. That was the boy that Duan, her subordinate elder, had picked up. She suspected something afoot immediately, because so often “her” elder was doing errands for the Perfect. The disciple had risen quite fast in just a week, only behind Yan’s nephew in their cohort.

“Alistair Tan?” Eamon asked. “That’s the outer disciple I was just questioning. He was polite and cordial.”

Elder Ouyang tapped his jewel-encrusted cane on the coral floor. “I claim him.”

It was Shakti’s turn to speak out. “What?”

At that moment, she spoke for the majority of the elders. 

Claiming a disciple so early was uncommon, even for a talent like Yan Zheng. As to not create bidding wars, the Perfect encouraged the disciple to be the one to chose their mentor, if any. And surely an outer disciple was beneath Elder Ouyang’s purview.

However, with the Head of the Ancestral Ground’s insistence and the fact Duan and Verryn seemed to think highly of him…

Sheeloth was the one to bring down the temperature. 

“There’s no such thing as ‘claiming’ a disciple, Elder Ouyang,” she admonished, wagging a finger in the height of impropriety. There was not a thing that the old man could do. Even his seniority was irrelevant when facing the best friend of the Perfect, and one of the four Peak Visionaries. “Loroa has been crystal clear on that throughout the millennia, have you forgotten in your senility? When he becomes an inner disciple, he may choose his own mentor.”

Before Elder Ouyang could respond, Verryn stepped in. If there could be such things as cliques at the sect, her, Verryn and his subordinates, Eamon, and the two Da twins formed one pillar, focused on the preservation of rules.

“Sheeloth speaks truly. But I was saving the best for last, Elder White,” he said. Shakti had to admit it was a masterful choice to spin the conversation back to the venerable old man. “Nyssara Tiarvon.”

“Surely she would represent her family?” Kalia asked.

Verryn shook his head. “The exact details of the agreement are between the Perfect and Prince Hoen alone, but I can assure you that she would be part of our delegation.”

Nyssara Tiarvon, the great-great-granddaughter of the second-most powerful man in the Empire, so the rumors said. A Late Adept of thirty years, even her very existence at the Clear Water Sect had become a political nightmare.

In the aftermath of the Crusades Against Usury, their fellow sects believed the Clear Water had made some backroom deal with the Emperor, because of their strange exemption to the new restrictions. 

Somehow, the Perfect had smoothed things over with the Tiarvon, the de facto leader of the Old Ways. Not a single soul knew what she had offered them to have their princess attend the sect. She had the talent to be recruited by all the top four. 

If the Tiarvon were making a play… Shakti was no political mastermind. She only knew that it meant dark times were ahead. 

“And what of the other rumors?” Shakti asked. “The war machine.”

Verryn glared at her for a fraction of a second, pricking her with his immense aura. “Elder Exotropay, we shouldn’t sully these halls with those tall tales. The Emperor does as the Emperor wants. We can only obey.”

In other words, not the place, and not the time. She got the message.

They discussed some more mundane matters next, a far cry from the earlier excitement of the meeting. Shakti didn’t think she’d ever been to a gathering of the elders quite so lively. Before they were about to conclude, Elder Ouyang coughed, as if he had been gathering the courage to ask something the entire time. 

“I’m aware that you may find this foolish,” he began, “but Ashendar has stirred. I can only imag—I would just like to—I would just like to request more resources to investigate the situation.”

Elder Yan snorted. “By situation, Elder Ouyang, you refer to the ‘secret Gideon heritage,’ no? In 47 million years of the Clear Water Sect, among all the future Visionaries, all the geniuses and masters of the esoteric lore, exactly zero have found any sort of hidden heritage or secret trial. Your obsession with it has hampered your cultivation, I fear.”

Verryn beamed at the Head of the Ancestral Grounds, his smile lines creasing. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Sometimes, a good story is what it takes to become a more fulfilled cultivator. Elder Yan, I cannot claim to have been at the sect even a tenth of your tenure, but we should respect those old things. Ashendar has been haunting those grounds since Gideon the Golemmaker, has he not? On that note, I have one more thing to say.

“My fellow elders—” Verryn began.

Oh good, Shakti thought. It’s time. 

“—Given the stakes of the upcoming tournament and the tragic incident at the Cultivation Chambers, I propose establishing a cross-divisional oversight committee. The time for petty divisional squabbles is over. If our performance in the next tournament is not up to par, we risk losing everything. Our inner disciples and core disciples should be seeing more of what the sect has to offer as they mature, not less. This proposal, I put forth to a vote.”

As expected, Verryn’s words were incendiary. 

“This is too far, Verryn.” Elder Yan floated above his chair. “You’ve reached your thousandth year with us, and you think you can alter how the sect operates?”

While Elder Kvasha didn’t go that far, her displeasure and status made her and Elder Yan the focal point of their opposition. 

With perfect, tree-like serenity, she smiled at Verryn. “Elder Aylesfort, your wisdom is legendary throughout the Emerald Coast, but I think this approach is not fit for the type of sect that we aspire to be. The Perfect changed many things, but she left this system of non-overlapping magisteria for a reason.”

“The Perfect is not here.” Shakti butted in. “She told us that she might not be back for years. If she has an issue when she returns, then it will be sorted out. Until then, as a Peak Visionary and Head of the Contribution Hall, Elder Aylesfort has the right.”

“Aye, he does,” Elder Veylan said. “And I vote nay to his resolution.”

So began the voting period, as Elder Yan and Elder Kvasha were forced to accept the validity of a vote. 

Five to five. Eight to eight. It was even all the way through. 

Garrick Veylan, no. Da Rui, yes. Yan Shiwu, no. Verryn Aylesfort, yes. Quotha Kvasha, no. Herself, yes. Shan Mok, no. Zhen Kaila, yes. X’loto X’loma, no. Darius Obsidian, yes. Ouyang Zhenyuan, no. Eamon Brittlebones, yes. Bruce Fanghorn, no. Mo Duan, yes. Togarth Zain, no.  Meltar Zelthoi, yes. Jhara Voss, no. Rozan Kel, yes. Wen Xuelia, no. Chiaro Dbolo, yes. Lian Qingfeng, no. 

It was 10-11 with the no’s winning. All attention turned to the only elder not to cast his vote. They were deliberately waiting to see if his decision was necessary to not bother, simply out of respect.

Elder White cocked his tiny head. “Yes.”

While the “no” faction was certainly unhappy about that, both sides knew what happened now. There was one person who was the official tie-breaker vote. 

“Ah, so it comes to me,” Sheeloth said, looking all too satisfied with herself on her slightly higher chair. “I would attend far more of these if they were always so interesting. I think… I think I’ll vote yes. The sect is due for some interesting times. Let’s see how the dice roll.”