EPILOGUE

Taking in the bowing figure before her, Lanyue’s perfect eyebrow quirked.

“A protector, you say?”

Rising from the deep curtsy to her full height—some six foot six, give or take a few inches, and most of it muscle—the imposing looking woman, with her hard eyes and chiseled jawline, replied.

“Yes. This one believes it would be in both our best interests to adopt this working arrangement, at least in a temporary capacity. To be revisited at a later date, upon further evaluation of this one’s abilities.”

Now both eyebrows were raised.

“You sound very sure of yourself. Are you aware of who I am?”

The woman nodded, stealing a glance at Lanyue’s cook pot, currently levitating on a cushion of spirit—she never knew when her boy might turn ravenous, after all; it never hurt to be prepared—then out across the expanse of untamed wilderness beyond.

“It would be hard not to be,” she flicked her gaze back to Lanyue. “Zhaoshen Lanyue. Demon Lotus of the South. Seventh Grand Pillar. Third Ranked Dominion Realm Cultivator. A promising young prodigy rumored to be in seclusion these last fifteen years, in preparation for a breakthrough to the immortal realm. Eleventh daughter of Emperor Zhaoshen Tianlong, may he live forever. Seventh in the line of imperial succession.”

If she could have raised her eyebrows any further, she would have.

“You’re surprisingly well informed. Tell me. Why are you so interested in my son?” the feeling of his closeness, draped across her back, was like a soothing balm upon her spirit.

Already she was growing to miss it. It wouldn’t be long now. She could feel his spirit beginning to stir. Lanyue subtly adjusted his position on her back, being very careful not to shift his head from where it rested atop her shoulder.

“The young master and I became very well acquainted recently.”

Lanyue looked on skeptically.

“Oh? That’s very interesting, seeing as, I do believe, I’ve never felt you’re aura signature before, and I’ve made sure to keep close tabs on all those he’s come into contact with. How recently was this exactly?”

“About a day ago, relatively speaking.”

“A day is not much time to form a lasting bond. And what precisely do you mean by relatively? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“This one means no disrespect, great mistress, but this one considers that to be the young master’s secret to tell. If the young master is truly inclined, this one is sure he’ll be happy to share the finer details with the mistress once he comes to.”

Lanyue briefly thought it over, before deciding that the woman likely had a point.

“Alright. I’ll allow it. Carry on then. You’ve still yet to explain the reason behind your keen interest.”

She nodded. Her grey eyes steady, confident, never leaving Lanyue’s own. So far, she was rather impressed with the woman’s temperament, if nothing else. Did that mean she would blithely leave her son’s wellbeing in the odd woman’s care, however? Not likely. Even still, stranger things had happened.

“Irregardless of how unrealistic it may sound, this one has already invested a considerable amount of resources into the young master’s development. This one finds it would be negligent of her to squander what all this one has bestowed without seeing her investment through to its conclusion.”

Lanyue’s face remained passive. She was ultimately unsurprised, though a bit disappointed, by the self serving motivation. She’d thought there was more to this one for a second there, but it would appear she was just like all the rest. That kind of transactional relationship was likely good enough for a western nobleman’s brat, she was sure, but her son?

Her son needed loyalty. Undying loyalty.

Lanyue was just about to turn away without another word, when she caught a flicker of something unexpected in the woman’s eyes. For the first time, the woman looked decidedly uncomfortable. Her impeccable poker face, that impenetrable façade, suddenly warped by doubt and confusion.

“A-also… I… that is to say, this one has grown rather fond of the young master. He is… can be quite infuriating at times, but that does not mean I- this one wishes excess harm to befall him. Not when this one is in a position to render the young master aid. It would be imprudent. It would be… unfortunate.”

The woman could no longer meet Lanyue’s eyes. Lanyue’s lips quirked up in the smallest of smirks. Perhaps she’d been too hasty. With a bit of nurturing…? Yes, there was definitely potential there…

“You do understand that, in order to protect my son, you need to, at the very least, be able to keep up with him? Which means, at a bare minimum, you should be able to keep up with me.”

The woman raised her eyes to meet hers, that momentary lapse in surety now nowhere to be seen.

“This one expected nothing less.”

Ah. Back to this then. Unflappable as ever. Is she bluffing, I wonder?

“Good. A head start like that should serve you well in the years to come. You might even prove yourself a memorable blip on the rapid rise of his ascension.”

“This one will serve to the best of her abilities for as long as she remains useful.”

Is she merely saying what I wish to hear? Because if so she’s doing a very fine job of it.

“Very well. Enough talk. Show me how well you would protect my son.”

And so saying, Lanyue fully unveiled her aura, instantly charring every tree, beast, and thorny thicket, for seven hundred meters around, to ash. Her son, completely unaffected by her blazing aura, slept on peacefully. She was the one who decided what did and did not burn here after all. And why oh why would she ever want to burn her precious boy?

Outside of his training, of course.

The woman gasped, or tried to. Super heated air rushing in to scorch her lungs. She choked, coughed, only making things worse. Lanyue frowned in disappointment. If this was truly her limit…

To her pleasant surprise, however, after a second to catch her bearings, the woman straitened—breaths coming more easily, fresh burns healing rapidly. Lanyue’s eyes crinkled in delight.

“Very good. Now, prepare yourself.”

Lanyue made to follow through with the implied threat, although, just before she did, she caught the woman’s ragged croak—two words tinged with utter disbelief.

“Immortal realm…!?”

Lanyue struck.

Fifteen minutes later, within a decimated stretch of forest, now so blackened, scorched, and drenched in burning fire laws that spontaneous growth was unlikely to occur for many hundreds of years, Lanyue stood unmoving, her breaths even and unstrained. She lifted a finger to dab at her lip. It came away smeared in blood. A minuscule amount, to be sure, but even so.

“You’ve impressed me,” Lanyue said, turning towards the slumped form of her son’s would be protector.

She was in a rather sorry state at the moment. Both arms burned off at the shoulders. Missing her left leg below the knee, with burns riddling her body all over—most of which went bone deep. The look in her eyes, though, had never changed. Not in all the time she’d been testing her.

“This one… is unworthy… of your praise… mistress,” she managed to rattle out between gasping breaths.

“Perhaps. Now, if what you say is true, and my son somehow trusts you implicitly, no matter how implausible that sounds, I see no reason you cannot serve him in some capacity.”

 “This one grovels before your magnanimity.”

Lanyue didn’t respond.

“I-if this one may, might she ask a question?”

“Speak.”

“Mistress, why haven’t you ascended yet? It’s evident to this one that you are suffering from severe resonance sickness. This one is very aware of her shortcomings. This one knows she should not have lasted nearly so long as she did.”

Lanyue stared into the woman’s eyes for what must have felt like an eternity. The woman never looked away or even blinked. Lanyue, in a rare show of emotion, sighed. She gave a bitter sweet glance at the snoring bundle of baby boy drooling all over her collarbone. 

“Ah. But of course. Say no more.”

“Get yourself cleaned up and changed. You begin in the morning. You may settle on the particulars of your pay with my son once he awakes. I expect he’ll need all of the protection he can get, shortly.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Oh, and, one last thing.”

“Yes Mistress?”

“Tell me, dauntless warrior. What is your name?”

“This one goes by Emilia, Mistress. Just Emilia is fine.”

***

Deep within the heart of the grand imperial palace, events were transpiring that had the potential to affect the course of the Boundless Empire for many generations to come.

The rustle of leaves and rapid clack of Shen Bao’s heels were the only sounds to punctuate the pall of silence blanketing the imperial jade pavilion. The very plants and wildlife uncharacteristically subdued—as if in solemn commiseration for the empire’s loss.

No! It isn’t right to think like that. He will live. He has to.

Shen Bao—experienced cultivator of the soul integration realm, and honored Majordomo of the imperial family—set a blistering pace as he sped down the meandering pathways which wound through the lush jade pavilion. Skirting past magnificent koi ponds, heavily laden with freshwater beasts, without a second glance. 

The “waters,” in actuality, an extremely potent and highly sought after spirit restoration elixir, while the majority of its occupants were each of the profound stage at least. He sped past ancient peach trees, either oblivious or outright immune to their intoxicating aroma. The eldest of them sitting squarely within the heavenly stage—a mere half step away from the divine.

Eventually, Shen Bao reached his final destination, at which point he slowed, and did his best to compose himself. The doors of the imperial healing pagoda silently swung open on his approach.

He stepped through confidently, as if to spite the quailing, blubbering mess he was inside. He took several steps into the open air space, and then stopped, unable to go any further. At the center of the pavilion there were two men. One was dressed in the traditional garb of a master healer, while the other…

Shen Bao averted his gaze. Unwilling, or unable to lay eyes upon the bedridden emperor. Instead, he gestured for the healer to follow, before swiftly exiting the pavilion.

Shen Bao took full advantage of the fifteen seconds it took for the healer to arrive. Deep, measured breaths enough to calm his nerves. When the elderly man finally did arrive, the Majordomo was composed once more. The forceful clack of a walking stick slamming into stone sounded from his left, followed by an exasperated harumph. Without turning to face the man, Shen Bao began to walk. Eventually, the healer deigned to follow.

“Well?” Shen Bao addressed Lao Bo, a truly unpleasant man widely considered to be the greatest healer in the empire. “What is your prognosis?”

Once again, the man harrumphed, hawking a globule of phlegm to the side—staining the path.

“Can’t be done! I don’t know whose capable of concocting such an elaborate spirit poison, and I don’t wish to know! By now it’s progressed to the point that not even my significant expertise is enough to purge it. Not without killing him, that is, which I’m just going to assume is off the table.”

“Yes. That would be rather counterproductive.”

“Hmph! Perhaps if you had called upon my services sooner, instead of relying on those inbred guild charlatans, something could have been salvaged from the situation.”

“Yes, I am well aware by now that not contacting you immediately had been a mistake. In my defense, we had not known of the true severity at that time.”

“Excuses!” 

Shen Bao’s eyebrow twitched.

“Please. What do you suggest, honored healer? Surely there must be a way? You have the wealth and influence of the empire at your full disposal. No expense is too great if it means a cure.”

“Did you hear nothing I just said, fool boy! It’s hopeless! If you want my advice, I would suggest you begin appointing a new successor, and soon, because that man is not long for this world! A decade at most! Probably less!”

Shen Bao said nothing for a long time. Merely continued to walk in silence, an unreadable expression on his face.

“… I see. Well, that is… very unfortunate.”

“Yes yes. It’s all very sad. It’s not as if it happens all the time… never mind that a peasant turns to worm food just as surely as a prince. But of course! Since it’s his highest on high, the boundless emperor himself no less, the rules of mortality should no longer apply. Bah! Well, I’ve given you my consultation. I would see that you pay me my fee so that I can take my leave of this place and never return.”

Shen Bao appeared lost in thought. When he spoke it was with a distracted tone.

“Yes yes. Of course, honored healer. Lin Fei, if you would? Please pay the man.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, the old man spun around in surprise. There he caught sight of the long haired beauty that was Lin Fei—eyes hovering most notably around her gently swaying hips. An appreciative smirk tugged at the master healer’s lined face. A vile expression that was quickly wiped away when Lin Fei’s dagger took him through his jugular. Bright blood fountained out in an arterial spray. The old man’s look of disbelief quickly morphing into indignation, before the life drained from his eyes entirely.

“I trust I need not remind you to dispose of the body carefully.”

“No, lord.”

“No one must be allowed to know of the emperor’s condition. I’d thought- no, I’d hoped we’d have more time. If what the late Lao Bo claimed is to be believed, however, we may no time at all.”

Lin Fei said nothing, merely kneeled down to clean her blade on the deceased man’s robes.

“Without a true bloodline successor, word of the emperor on his deathbed will surely mean civil war.”

He said it more to himself than any thing. Dread like a lead ball settling in his gut.

“My lord. If I may?”

Shen Bao turned to Lin Fei, noting the uncharacteristic way she fidgeted.

“Please. If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’ve read accounts of similar precedents, lord.”

Oh?

“Wherein the line of succession was unclear. In one of those cases, the acting chancellor at the time proposed a solution. And it’s because of that solution that, among historians, it’s widely believed he single-handedly preserved an era. Saving it from a cataclysm of rampant civil war and strife.”

Shen Bao waited. When she failed to elaborate, he prompted her.

“And what was this miraculous solution that averted total disaster?” he didn’t mean for it to come out mockingly, though his skepticism was hard to suppress.

Lin Fei flinched, and then she replied.

“A tournament, my lord.”

“A tournament…?”

“Yes my lord.”

“A tournament to decide the fate of the empire? But-!” he was nearly incensed. “That would do little more than breed further dissension! May the heavens quail before an imperial’s spurned pride,” he quoted an ancient proverb.

“That is only the case if those unworthy participants live long enough to spread civil unrest.”

“Lin Fei…! Are you implying we…?”

“No! No, I would never! Only an imperial may spill the blood of another imperial, naturally. But that’s just my point.”

Shen Bao hesitated. Frowned. Hummed to himself thoughtfully.

“It was a tumultuous time my lord. Extreme measures had to be taken.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, my lord.”

“The imperial family would not take it well.”

“Even if the chance for their proffered scion to become emperor or empress was dangled before them?”

“You play a dangerous game, Lin Fei.”

“Am I wrong, though, lord?”

Shen Bao said nothing. They both shared a look that said more than words ever could.

“Make preparations. I pray it never comes to this, but if it does, I want us to be ready.”

“Yes my lord. Right away my lord,” bowed Lin Fei, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Once she’d left, with the late healer’s body in tow, Shen Boa could only look out over the rippling koi pond, and wonder, idly, if he’d just made a terrible mistake.

***

Eleanor didn’t snap awake from bleary unconsciousness, so much as she passively recognized her own growing sphere of perception.

Huh? Wait? Haven’t I been here before?

Sight, sound, and an indecipherable sixth sense slowly expanded out and away from her a few paces at a time—a diffuse light, with no identifiable source, steadily beating back the tide of darkness that surrounded her on all sides.

Unlike the time before, however, she didn’t have to wander around for ages before stumbling upon the impaled man. No, instead she found herself standing not twenty paces away. Head hanging low and long hair splayed out across the concentric rune formations, he looked, for all the world, like a dead man. That was, until his head snapped up and he cried out in triumph.

“Ahah!”

Eleanor nearly leapt out of her skin.

“There you are! Well, it’s about damn time you got here! You were almost late, you silly girl!”

Eleanor sidled back a few steps.

“What?! No-!”

The man began berating himself. Just like before, it was as if she were only hearing one side of an argument. 

“I-! Well yes-! That doesn’t-! Well who’s damn fault is that, then, huh? Maybe if you took better care of yourself, none of this would have happened! …old geezer. No I-! Shhh! Shut up a moment! Argh shit! Now look what you did! She’s looking at us as if we’re insane, you crazy bastards! Do you have any idea how important first impressions are? Idiots, the lot of you!”

Eleanor sidled a few more steps back.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t leave!” he was definitely talking to Eleanor this time. “It’s been so long since I’ve had actual civilized company. Please, sit. I promise I’ll do you no harm. Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m a bit ‘set in my ways’ you could say. A real ‘stickler’ for propriety.”

He flapped his limp wrists about helplessly. The swords impaling him didn’t so much as budge.

Despite herself, Eleanor chortled a bit at the display. Studying the impaled man for a time, his slightly sweaty smile sincere, if a bit desperate, she quickly came to a decision. She’d been expecting oblivion when she sacrificed herself to save her world. This was… a notable improvement.

The man really was rather handsome wasn’t he? Perhaps even a little too handsome? Perfect, almost, in so far as she was the judge of such things.

Shrugging, she plopped down right where she’d stood. The man let out a sigh of relief, flashing her a smile of genuine gratitude.

And then, for a time, they just stared at one another. Rather awkwardly at that. Eleanor took that time to study his… prison, prolonged death sentence, more closely. Twelve swords of varying lengths. Each style seemingly more foreign and fantastical than the last. All impaling him through his extremities, torso, and even neck. And yet no blood seeped from the wounds, nor did it encrust the rune covered basalt beneath him.

Eventually, when the silence became too unbearable, Eleanor spouted out the first words that came to mind.

“Does it hurt?”

***

Celin Telthain—constellation flunky, aspiring system supervisor, and newly arisen ascendant—was, and quite reasonably in his own opinion, rather fucking pissed. His mood a simmering pot of discontentment, ever since he’d been given the unenviable task of hoofing all the way out to the ass end of nowhere, to perform some asinine “in-person inquiry.”

I ask you, who cares if some washed up planetary steward is a couple centuries late on her progress reports? Answer me, how does that suddenly make it my problem?

And the worst part of it was? It wasn’t as if he could even complain! After all, it had been his idea to place all of their names into a hat. It was just his rotten luck that a twice damned Golden Templar showed up just in nick of time to ruin all the fun.

Or, as he so eloquently put it, ‘to ensure the authenticity of this fair and honest contest,’ which effectively amounted to the same fucking thing.

Stuck up pricks.

Now, not only would he miss out on valuable opportunities to climb the constellation ladder, kneecapping his many rivals and competitors to rapidly get ahead, but he had no guarantee those he’d stepped over wouldn’t be doing the same to him in his absence. He wasn’t there to defend himself after all, which ultimately made him next to helpless.

That stupid fucking hat! I hate hats! I’ll never wear another hat again for as long as I live! Bastard things!

Right now, his only goal was to reach the twice damned sector as quickly as possible, resolve whatever issue required his personal attentions, with extreme prejudice, and return home in time to at least partially mitigate the fallout brought about by his several years long absence.

With a dramatic surge of his spirit expenditure, Celin Telthain sharply increased his speed. His rather cramped spacial conveyance zipping through solar systems at several times the speed of light.

He could only hope that, by the time he eventually did return home, he wouldn’t be flat out of a job.