Chapter 155: TO BISECT

CHAPTER

155

TO BISECT

Jieyuan

—∞—

Stepping out into Radiant Street, Jieyuan set a brisk pace, leaving the hulking black form of the Mysterious Night House behind him. Not so fast that he’d be running and drawing people’s attention, though. More like he had somewhere he needed to get to.

Which he did. And that somewhere was out of the city.

He took a quick scan of the street before setting off toward the First City. Fewer cultivators in that direction.

Daojue and Meiyao matched their steps with his, following from the sides. Jieyuan navigated their way smoothly through the crowds.

Jieyuan? Meiyao’s voice whispered into his mind. This isn’t the direction we came from. Are we taking another way back to the safe house?

We’re not going back. We’re leaving the city.

To her credit, Meiyao gave no outward indication of surprise, just kept walking without breaking pace. But her confusion was clear in the thought she sent him next: We are? Because of the people after Daojue?

She didn’t sound contrary or unwilling, at least. Just a bit taken aback. It was probably the suddenness of it all.

Daojue, of course, didn’t say anything even though he must’ve also noticed they were going in the wrong direction. One good thing about Daojue was that he applied his own logic to others; he never voiced what he deemed unnecessary, but he was also happy to let everyone else practice the same type of conditional silence.

Partly, Jieyuan sent back. But we’ve also exposed ourselves more than I’d have liked. And there’s no reason to stick around, anyway. We already found out what we needed to know. Now we just need to figure out our next steps, and nothing is stopping us from doing that outside the city.

It was a good thing they’d brought Xiaohu with them to the auction in Meiyao’s pouch; having to return to the safe house to pick up the little beast would’ve taken too much time.

He kept his attention on the streets, looking between the buildings, searching for a suitable location. Somewhere dark and secluded. Private. But he didn’t find it; they were in the middle of Radiant Street, and all the buildings here were tall, proud, and sprawling. Too many people around, too. He didn’t want any eyes on them for what he wanted to do.

We’ll use a cloudcraft to leave, Jieyuan added. Tell me if you spot anywhere we can get on it without being seen. I don’t want anybody knowing that the three of us are leaving the city right now.

Cloudcraft? We’re not using one of your secret passages out of the city?

No. That only mattered for getting us inside. The Radiant Gold Palace has watchers looking out for anyone flying in, but cultivators flying out—or overflying it—are mostly ignored. It’s already hard enough keeping track of all the arrivals. Some of those watchers were mundane, employed by my family. Anyway, do you know of any secret Liangshibai or Linzushen safe houses? Anywhere we can lay low for a while?

There was a pause. Then Meiyao sent: No. We don’t really have anything like that. Not that I’m aware of, anyway.

That’s fine. We’ll just have to take our chances with a Haoyujin one, then. It won’t be as protected, but it should do the trick for the short term until we can figure out what to do.

His family had a couple of secret shelters set up in the vicinity of the city. It’d been a last-resort, worst-case-scenario kind of thing, somewhere they could retreat to in case their fortunes really took a turn for the worse. There was a chance some of the shelters had been destroyed by stray chromal beasts, but that wasn’t too likely.

The area around cities was regularly cleared of beasts by the cultivators of nearby cabals, enough so that mundane trade could happen between cities. Even villages and farms existed near cities. Chromal beasts seldom left their territories, anyway, and even when they did, they tended to ignore small mundane settlements. If they went out of their way to make trouble, it was usually where a lot of people were gathered. Where there were cultivators, in particular.

He’d thought the matter was settled, but Meiyao’s voice sounded in his mind again: I think we should head to the Viridian Death Cult. I know a secret way inside it, one only the Linzushen can use. My mother told me about it, in case I ever needed to get inside the cult in secret for whatever reason.

Radiant Street’s central area was behind them. Chromal businesses still lined the brightgold street on either side of them, but there were fewer cultivators around. Still too many for what Jieyuan wanted, though.

He considered Meiyao’s suggestion. The Viridian Death Cult’s stance on the whole revolution—calling every cultist back, going no-contact—was a little odd, sure. But if his suspicions were correct, and they’d not only known Meiyao would go into the Dome but also safely return from it, that might explain their curious silence.

You’re sure we can trust them?

Definitely. They worship the Linzushen. Worship me.

All right. We’ll head there, then.

Jieyuan’s gaze landed on an alleyway between two squat buildings. The little passage looked isolated enough, and he couldn’t spot any windows with a good view of it. They were already near the end of the street now, nearing Radiant Gold City’s first and oldest wall (he could already see it clearly farther ahead, rising well above the surrounding buildings, gold and massive and glowing), and the chromal establishments here didn’t see many customers. The streets were practically empty.

Jieyuan cast a quick look around, confirmed nobody was watching, then cut straight toward the alleyway. Reaching it, he found it was as perfect as it had seemed to be: a dark, shadowed passage tucked away between two walls. It stretched for a little while, and on the other side of it, faintly glowing, was the twenty-foot-tall brightgold wall that enclosed Radiant Street. Barely a fifth the height of the city walls, but still eye-catching enough.

Jieyuan took Daojue and Meiyao deep into the dead-end alley, close to the wall. Then he channeled his chroma into the bracelet he wore under his robes. He sensed it as the cloudcraft unfurled, the bracelet losing its form as the billowy, silky red material that made it up spilled out of his sleeve and started pooling on the floor in front of him.

Jieyuan watched as the cloudcraft took form. So far, so good. In just a few moments, they’d be out of the city.

DANGER!

Huaxin’s warning struck him like a thunderclap.

Jieyuan barely had time to look up, toward the street, before a man appeared at the entrance of the alley.

The very first thing Jieyuan noted—before the man’s looks, before his robes or any weapons or armor he might have on him—was that he couldn’t detect him with his soulsenses. Even though there were fewer than thirty feet to the mouth of the alley. There was absolutely nothing there to his soulsenses. A void.

An Orangesoul.

Jieyuan’s tension spiked. Huaxin was still blasting DANGER through their bond.

Well, rot.

“Oh? What’s this?” The man didn’t move from the mouth of the alley. His voice was carefree, amused. “Leaving so soon? Surely not.”

Jieyuan quickly cataloged every relevant detail about the man. Black-robed, tall. Surprisingly thin for a cultivator. No sheath by the waist, but with gauntlets peeking out from his sleeves and greaves from the hem of his robes. Skin pale. Hair black and worn long, neatly combed and swept back over a thin, gaunt face. Black eyes. Young-looking, but that didn’t mean much when it came to cultivators.

The style of his robes was unfamiliar to Jieyuan. Pitch-black, patterned with slightly lighter, dark gray smoke-like wisps. But it wasn’t like Jieyuan knew the uniform of many Orangesoul cabals anyway.

Jieyuan shot a glance at the cloudcraft at his feet. It was nearly done forming. But with an Orangesoul right there, it wouldn’t have mattered even if it’d been ready for flight. Orangesouls could fly on their own power—and even a first-sign one would be faster than any Redsoul cloudcraft.

Meiyao and Daojue had both already drawn their weapons and taken combat stances.

Jieyuan channeled a bit of chroma into his mind-link artifact, picking Daojue’s cipher. The mind-link was accepted on the spot, and Jieyuan sent: Is this the Orangesoul after you? Gaofengzhi Zhuoji?

No, came Daojue’s prompt reply, cool and direct.

Rotting Heavens. Jieyuan had thought they had enough on their plates with two Orangesouls—Liangshibai Qingshi and Gaofengzhi Zhuoji—on the horizon. If there was one thing they didn’t need, it was a third one.

And yet the Heavens had sent one their way anyway.

“Who the rot are you?” Meiyao snapped at the man.

The Orangesoul’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead dramatically. Then he tutted. Actually tutted. “Well, now, that’s hardly the way to address your betters, is it? Or did your parents fail to teach you any manners—Linzushen Meiyao?”

Meiyao stiffened. “How do you—”

Jieyuan cleared his throat. “I think you have us at a disadvantage.” Then, tapping into his mind-link with Meiyao, he sent: Let me handle this.

The man turned his attention over to Jieyuan. At the same time, the cloudcraft at Jieyuan’s feet finished forming. Taking advantage of that, Jieyuan very naturally moved his arm back to his side. Nearer to the sheaths of the Shifting Feathers.

“How may we address you, elder?” Jieyuan asked. Polite.

Inwardly, he queried Huaxin: Can you get me a sequence to deal with this man?

NEGATION. In return, Jieyuan got a feeling of intense frustration through their bond. But it wasn’t like back in the Viridian Dome, where the viridian mist was interfering with Huaxin’s divination abilities. Rather, parsing Huaxin’s message, Jieyuan got the impression that Fatebloom Intuition still worked, but that such a sequence wasn’t possible—that there was no short-term sequence of actions he could perform that would see the Orangesoul dead.

The man gave Jieyuan an approving nod. “Oh? Good, good. I’m gladdened that at least one of you backwater boors knows a modicum of propriety. You’d be Haoyujin Jieyuan, if I’m not mistaken? I am Heiyingmi Jiahao, and you’d happen to be correct. I am indeed an elder—a royal elder, in fact, of the Obscuring Shadows Sect. Have you heard of it?”

Obscuring Shadows Sect? That rang a bell; Jieyuan quickly pursued that thread, searching his memories. Recollection came quickly. That name had often come up in the jadebooks he’d found in the glyph-stretch pouches left behind by the failed expeditions into the Viridian Dome.

One of the things he’d learned in those jadebooks was that there were two islands neighboring their own, both of them led by Yellowsoul cabals.

The Obscuring Shadows Sect was one of them.

Yellowsoul. Jieyuan had instinctively assumed the man was an Orangesoul, because what business would a rotting Yellowsoul have in a Redsoul city?

Not just that, but an elder—and a royal at that, like the Liangshibai were to the Gleaming Stone Sect.

Jieyuan was glad for his mask, because it meant the man—Jiahao—couldn’t see the way his face twisted at the realization. Jieyuan made his best effort to keep his voice level. “I’m afraid your cabal is unfamiliar to me, elder.”

Jiahao shook his head, murmuring in barely contained disgust, “Backwater boors indeed.” Not so quietly that they couldn’t hear him, though, and Jieyuan suspected that was on purpose.

“Allow me to enlighten you, then,” Jiahao said next, louder. “The Obscuring Shadows Sect is a Yellowsoul cabal. Same as the Incandescent Serenity Sect that rules over this island. And as I previously said, I am not only one of its elders, but a member of its royal clan. I assume you’re capable enough of making the relevant conclusions?”

Jieyuan caught it as both Meiyao and Daojue stiffened at the mention of Yellowsoul. They hadn’t gone through the jadebooks from the Viridian Dome like he had.

Jieyuan swallowed dryly. “We are.”

But then, from his mind-link with Daojue, came a message: All of his artifacts are Orangesoul.

That— Jieyuan almost sent back, Are you sure? But he caught himself. This was Daojue. He wouldn’t have said anything if he weren’t certain of it. And Jieyuan already knew Daojue had the power to sense higher-realm artifacts.

The real question, then, was what was a supposed Yellowsoul doing with Orangesoul artifacts. Only Orangesoul artifacts, at that.

“Good, good.” The man, Jiahao, took another step forward. “Now, allow me to explain the situation. I happened to purchase the rings you put up for auction, and I found some very interesting jadebooks inside them. Jadebooks about expeditions to the Dome. Jadebooks from… participants of those expeditions. And I must say I’m rather curious about how you three acquired those three rings. More to the point, I’m curious about… where this acquisition happened. Do you understand?”

Oh, rot. Jieyuan had known that the rings might contain jadebooks about the expeditions, and it had stood to reason that whoever bought the rings would find out about it. But he’d had enough faith in the Mysterious Night House’s promise of privacy to believe that those rings wouldn’t be tracked back to them so soon.

That was, in fact, a good question. If the man was indeed a Yellowsoul, Jieyuan could’ve believed he’d forcefully gotten their identities from the Mysterious Night House (assuming the House hadn’t gone and volunteered the information). But if Jiahao was an Orangesoul, like his artifacts indicated? Then he wouldn’t have enough sway with the House to pull something like that.

There was something else, too: if Jiahao was a Yellowsoul and had participated in the auction, then why hadn’t he bought the Yellowsoul cylinder?

Xiaohu would be able to tell for sure; she was an Orangesoul beast, and one of her main powers was sensory in nature. But the little beast was currently inside Meiyao’s closed glyph-stretch pouch; if Meiyao opened it enough for Xiaohu to get her senses out, it’d also be enough for Jiahao to send his soulsenses inside the bag and find out about Xiaohu. Jieyuan didn’t know how sharp and sensitive Jiahao’s soulsenses were. It’d be too much of a risk.

But I still need some way to get confirmation.

“That’s curious,” Jieyuan said, trying to buy himself time as he made sense of the situation. “We were unable to open the rings ourselves, of course, so we had no way of knowing—”

“Jieyuan,” Jiahao said, putting up a hand. Jieyuan noted how his gauntlets seemed to be made of some sort of black metal. Jiahao’s expression was a disappointed one. “Jieyuan. You were doing so well up until now. If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it is being taken for a fool. Are you taking me for a fool, Jieyuan?”

There was really only one way to respond to that. “No.”

Jieyuan tensed. A fight could break out any moment now, and he still didn’t know enough. If the man really was an Orangesoul, then they stood a chance. None of their powers would work on Jiahao—bloodskill, soulskill, or realmskill—but each of them had an Orangesoul weapon, which Jiahao didn’t know about.

The two biggest problems here, then, were Jiahao’s speed and realmskills. How problematic Jiahao’s speed was would heavily depend on his soulsign. At first-sign Orangesoul, Jiahao wouldn’t be any faster than Daojue and Meiyao. At tenth-sign, though, he’d be ten times as fast as a tenth-sign Redsoul. As for the bondskill problem, Jieyuan would assume the worst: that Jiahao had two realmskills, and that both were Orangesoul, with two forms. Bondskills they would have absolutely no defense against.

If this came to a fight—and Jieyuan was almost certain it would—then they’d have to end it fast. Take Jiahao by surprise, ideally. Because if he used his realmskills on them, depending on what they were, the three of them might very well die on the spot.

But to get the jump on Jiahao, they’d need a plan.

“Indeed. I am most definitely not a fool,” Jiahao said. “So let’s not pretend you somehow found these rings outside the Dome. And I’ll go ahead and preempt another possible ploy: don’t bother trying to pretend you three are not redsouls. My eyes work just fine; I can perfectly see the Redsoul cloudcraft at your feet.”

Jieyuan gave a slow, careful nod, even as he squeezed his brain for a plan.

“Good, good. Now, I know for a fact that the three of you went inside the Dome and somehow got out of it. And I very much want to know how. Tell me, and not only will I let the three of you go, but I will also reward you. I am a generous man, as you’ll soon discover if you only give me the opportunity.”

Let us go? Reward us? Generous? Jieyuan could’ve laughed. Coming from a man this arrogant, that little spiel couldn’t be anything but a joke. Jiahao had told them not to take him for a fool, but clearly, he had no problem treating them like idiots. The man couldn’t even be bothered to play nice.

That was a good thing, though. Arrogant. Condescending. Dismissive. Honestly, Jieyuan couldn’t have asked for a better enemy. He’d dealt with this type of cultivator before. Killed this type of cultivator before, even, and under very similar circumstances. Really, what Jieyuan wouldn’t have given to have a distracter field behind him right now.

Not just that, Jiahao’s words had confirmed Jieyuan’s suspicions. Jiahao was after their knowledge, not anything on their person. Meaning he needed them alive. Not just that, he’d ideally want their cooperation, too. It was awfully hard to get information out of a cultivator by force.

Good luck torturing a cultivator. What was torture to someone who willingly and regularly faced the greatest pains imaginable?

I can work with this, Jieyuan decided. Granted, there was a chance this was all an act on Jiahao’s part, that the man was playing a character. But that was a rabbit hole Jieyuan wasn’t about to go down in. Besides, Jiahao probably believed they had no option but to take his deal and hope for mercy. To most cultivators, the idea of fighting someone was unthinkable.

Now Jieyuan only needed to make sure the man was indeed an Orangesoul.

“That’s… good,” Jieyuan said. “You’re right. We did get those in the Dome, elder. And we did leave the Dome. But—I’m sorry. There’s something I must know first. How did you know it was us who put up the rings for auction? I was under the impression that the Mysterious Night House kept the anonymity of its customers. How did you get this information out of them?”

“Oh?” Jiahao looked genuinely surprised for a moment, sharp eyebrows bunching together. “Ah, I see. This isn’t something mere Redsouls would be aware of. Well, if you must know”—he gave Jieyuan an amused look, making it clear he was indulging his demand—“the Mysterious Night House is a division of my sect. We have an… agreement with the Incandescent Serenity Sect to operate here on their island.”

“That…” Jieyuan didn’t let himself be surprised by the revelation, but rather focused on fitting this new piece of information into the puzzle he was putting together in his head. “Were you stationed in the Mysterious Moon House here as some kind of overseer, then?”

“Oh? Indeed. I was temporarily assigned to this… quaint little city of yours. It turns out to have been my good fortune, however.”

That settled it. There was no way—absolutely no way—a Yellowsoul would be assigned to a Redsoul city. Jieyuan refused to believe that. Yellowsouls didn’t grow on trees. Jiahao might really be a member of the Obscuring Shadows Sect, but Jieyuan was certain now that the man was an Orangesoul.

And with that assurance, his plan came together.

He sent both Meiyao and Daojue quick, brief messages through their mind-link, then said to Jiahao, “All right. I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“Oh? You have a proposal for me?” Jiahao’s lips quirked upward. “Why, I’d love to hear it.”

Jieyuan took a deep breath. “Well, to start, let’s drop the farce, yeah? You’re planning on killing us after we tell you what we know about the Dome. That much is painfully obvious.”

Jiahao’s smile slipped. “You—”

“But,” Jieyuan cut him off. Jiahao’s face darkened, so Jieyuan cut straight to the point: “Heavenly affinity.”

That gave Jiahao a pause. “What?”

“Daojue, Meiyao, and I—we all have fourth-order heavenly affinity.” It might be the man was already aware of that (it’d depend on how much the Mysterious Night House had told him before he’d gone after them), but he needed to emphasize the point. “We can reach Greensoul one day. Now, you might think that’s even more reason for you to kill us. But here’s the thing. We aren’t enemies yet. We can still be allies. Proper allies.”

Jiahao narrowed his eyes at him; Jieyuan could tell his words were getting through.

“You want to know how we got out of the Viridian Dome? Well, we could use the help of a higher-realm cultivator ourselves,” Jieyuan said. “There are opportunities inside the Dome we’re not strong enough to take advantage of right now. With a Yellowsoul like you on our side, though? That’d open up all sorts of possibilities. And you’d have our favor in return for your help now. The favor of future Greensouls.”

Jieyuan had made an offer much like this one a good while ago—the first time the three of them had faced a cultivator way above their level. It hadn’t quite worked out back then, but the circumstances were different this time. His goal was different, too. He didn’t actually want to convince Jiahao. He was going for something else.

Jiahao’s eyes remained narrowed, but there was a pensive touch to his expression now. It might be an act, but Jieyuan didn’t feel like it was. Rather, he was confident that, for the first time, Jiahao was actually taking him seriously.

“You might not be aware of this,” Jieyuan continued, “but the three of us are currently without a sect. We’d be more than happy to join the Obscuring Shadows Sect. And if you’d like, nobody but us has to know about the whole Viridian Dome business. If anything, the fewer people who are aware of that, the better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jiahao still seemed pensive. “You make good points,” he allowed. “A partnership, then? Is that what you propose?”

“That’s right. An actual partnership. Not a farce.”

“I see. And… this favor you mentioned, once you reach Greensoul?” Jiahao cocked his head. “How can I know you’ll keep your word?”

“Well, like I said, we are not enemies yet,” Jieyuan said. “Everything you’ve done so far? Perfectly reasonable. If I found out about redsouls who knew the secrets of the Viridian Dome, I’d have done just the same. Anyone would’ve, really. We won’t hold any of that against you. But I’m afraid there’s no way I can actually guarantee we’ll pay back this favor once we’re greensouls. Likewise, however, we have no real guarantee you’ll keep us alive after we tell you about the Dome. So we’ll just have to take a chance on each other.”

Jiahao pursed his lips. He was clearly thinking this through, considering all the possibilities.

“And if you’d really like us to owe you one, beyond any shadow of doubt,” Jieyuan continued, “then there’s something else we could use your help with. Surely you’ve heard about the whole Qingshi business with the Liangshibai Clan? Well, Meiyao here considers the Liangshibai her family. Help us save them, help us kill Qingshi and take back the Gleaming Stone Sect, and we will be unquestionably in your debt.”

Something shifted in Jiahao’s expression, and Jieyuan knew he had him.

Jiahao gave them a firm nod. “Very well. We’ll still have to negotiate some of these matters, but I can promise you it will be in good faith.”

That was, of course, a lie. Jieyuan sincerely doubted Jiahao had any intention of honoring their deal. He’d bet good gold the man was still planning on killing them the moment he got what he wanted. But that was fine, because Jieyuan was sure he’d convinced Jiahao that he was telling the truth. Convinced him that they were actually willing to cooperate, and that they’d fallen for his ruse about him being a Yellowsoul.

That had been Jieyuan’s goal all along, because it meant Jiahao would be letting his guard down. Not altogether—no cultivator was that stupid—but enough. He wouldn’t be expecting a suicidal attack or some last-ditch effort now.

Jieyuan let out a deep sigh and smiled a smile of pure relief. It wasn’t even faked. He was relieved, just not for the reasons Jiahao probably thought. “That’s all I’m asking. Do you have some place we can sit down and talk?”

“Of course,” Jiahao said, smiling back, pleasant enough. That actually made Jieyuan a little warier; so the man could, in fact, put on an act. “We’ll continue this in my office.” He glanced at the cloudcraft at Jieyuan’s feet. “We’ll walk.”

“Sure,” Jieyuan said, easily, before dissolving the cloudcraft; the red, smoky threads came undone, flowing back up his sleeve, reassuming the compact form of a bracelet. “Lead the way.”

Meiyao sheathed her saber, and Daojue strapped Gleaming End back onto his back.

They walked over; Jiahao stayed at the entrance of the alley; once they’d reached the midway point, he set out in the direction of the street. They followed, their pace just a fraction faster than Jiahao’s. The distance between them became smaller and smaller.

They left the alley, stepping out into the main street. Jiahao was just a few steps ahead of them, walking up the street, back toward the Mysterious Night House. The streets weren’t empty, but there weren’t more than a handful of cultivators around.

Jieyuan would’ve preferred nobody at all, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The distance between them and Jiahao was less than six feet now.

Meiyao and Daojue struck at the same time.

They surged forward—near-instantaneously drawing their weapons as they did—and struck at Jiahao. It all happened in the blink of an eye, perfectly coordinated—Gleaming End stabbing at Jiahao’s throat, Meiyao’s saber at his chest.

Blurringly fast, Jiahao spun on his feet toward them, eyes widening.

Gleaming End went through Jiahao’s neck—but just before the spearhead reached it, Jiahao’s neck transformed. It turned black as the void, like it’d been replaced by a slice of darkness. And with the way Jiahao had twisted his body as he turned around, Meiyao’s saber didn’t stab into his chest, but rather cut a gash into his side.

Huaxin blasted DANGER; Jieyuan pulled back on instinct, but the very next instant—before any of them could really do anything—a flurry of black tendrils surged from behind Jiahao and shot toward them.

One of the tentacles wrapped around Jieyuan’s arms, binding them tight against his body, while another stopped flush against his neck, the end of it sharpened into a thin, razor-sharp blade. Just the slightest movement, and it would cut into his flesh.

Running on instinct, Jieyuan tried his bonds—but even drawing on his aura, he couldn’t get them to budge. His soulsenses couldn’t detect them. Higher-realm. He couldn’t break it—not using force.

Jiahao hadn’t moved from his position. He still stood there, in front of them, facing them. Gleaming End burrowed into the black, amorphous mass his neck had become. His eyes were still a little wide, wild.

Gleaming End was still stabbing through his neck, which was still transformed, but out of the corner of his eye, Jieyuan could see that Meiyao’s and Daojue’s circumstances were much like his own. Bladed tendrils pressed against their neck, their arms bound by more tendrils. Meiyao’s case was just like Jieyuan’s, her arms fastened to her body by a single tendril, whereas Daojue had a tendril around each arm, like sleeves of darkness, holding them in place.

None of them seemed capable of moving.

There was a dark pool around Jiahao’s feet, flat against the floor. Like a shadow, except it was the wrong shape for the time of the day, and the black tendrils that bound them were stretching out from it.

A realmskill?

Jiahao then took a step to the side while Gleaming End stayed in place; this removed the spearhead from his body, and in the very next moment, his neck became an actual neck again: still black, because of the cloth wrapped around it, but clearly a human neck, and not some black thing only roughly in the shape of one. Wholly unharmed, too.

Then Daojue’s raised arm snapped back to the side, clearly under the influence of the tendril over it, before the tendril that had been wrapped around his other arm stretched out to encircle his torso and both arms, leaving him just like Jieyuan and Meiyao. The freed-up tendril retreated into the dark pool, melding into it.

“You three actually took me by surprise,” Jiahao said. There was a touch of surprise to his voice, a level of rawness that took Jieyuan aback. “I suspected your weapons might be Orangesoul, but I didn’t think you’d actually dare to attack. I actually thought you were serious about the offer. Zixuan won’t let me hear the end of this. You three just proved I’m as gullible as she says. Unbelievable.”

It struck Jieyuan then that Jiahao might actually be as young as he seemed to be.

“You three really shouldn’t have done that,” Jiahao continued. He still looked a little peaked, but he seemed to be recovering fast. “I don’t need the three of you alive, you know?”

“Kill any of us,” Jieyuan said, “and you won’t get anything from the other two.”

“Oh, Jieyuan,” Jiahao said. He shook his head, looking more put-together now. He seemed to have also found his arrogance again. “Do you truly believe you have any credibility left after that little stunt?”

“Don’t you rotting dare pretend you weren’t planning on killing us anyway,” Meiyao snapped.

Jiahao’s eyes flicked over to her. “I—”

“STOP!”

A man’s voice, from behind Jiahao.

Jieyuan looked past the Orangesoul. The few cultivators he’d seen on the street just moments ago were gone, having probably left the moment they realized the situation. But there was an exception: a man and a woman, rushing over. Golden-robed.

Sovereign Aoxin and her nephew, Dayang. They both had swords in hand.

Jiahao turned around, and the pair came to abrupt halts—close enough that the Orangesoul was definitely within range of their soulsenses.

Dayang’s gaze flicked back and forth between the three of them—Meiyao in particular—and Jiahao in alarm. His aunt, on the other hand, was staring fixedly at Jiahao, her face turning grim.

“I don’t— I don’t know what’s going on here,” Dayang said, “but— Can’t we talk—”

“Elder,” Sovereign Aoxin cut in. “I’d like to ask for clemency on behalf of the three behind you.”

“Unbelievable,” Jiahao repeated, softly. Jiahao could only see the side of his face now, and he was looking at Sovereign Aoxin and Dayang almost with wonder. “Are all the Redsouls in this island so stupidly brazen?”

Meiyao, Jieyuan said through their mind-link. Open your pouch a little. Get Xiaohu to confirm Jiahao’s soulsign.

The situation had truly spiraled out of control, and Jieyuan had no idea what would come out of the Radiant Gold aunt and nephew interceding on their behalf. But he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity that had just presented itself. Jiahao’s attention wasn’t fully on them anymore.

Jiahao couldn’t be a first-sign Orangesoul; he’d reacted too quickly to Meiyao’s and Daojue’s attacks. But Jieyuan didn’t think he was a high-sign, either. Still, he wanted to be sure.

Across from them, Sovereign Aoxin’s face fell. “Elder—”

“Again,” Jiahao said. He sounded almost disbelieving. “You speak, even though you were not given permission. Are your eyes defective? Do you truly not see you interrupt matters far beyond you?”

He didn’t really catch anything happening out of the corner of his eye—Meiyao kept her glyph-stretch pouch inside her robes, and she could open it with her soulforce—but the next moment, her voice sounded in his mind.

Third-sign Orangesoul.

Third-sign. That’d make him about thrice as fast as your average tenth-sign Redsoul. Meiyao and Daojue were far from average, but Jiahao should still have a significant edge on them speed-wise. Not an insurmountable one, though.

There might be a blade against Jieyuan’s throat, and he might be locked in place, but his heart still beat in his chest.

It wasn’t over until he was dead.

Jiahao was under the impression they couldn’t get free; they might have Orangesoul weapons, but they couldn’t move their arms. They also weren’t capable of bonding Orangesoul weapons, and so couldn’t use soulforce to move them and cut the tendrils. Using physicalized chroma to wield the weapon wasn’t an option, either, since Jiahao would be able to sense them gathering chroma long before they could do anything with it.

One of those statements was a lie.

He quickly told Meiyao and Daojue what to do through their mind-links.

“Elder,” Dayang spoke up. He seemed to have found his center again, because his voice was clear. “We mean no—”

“Enough!” Jiahao snapped. Two tendrils shot out of the shadow pool at his feet toward Sovereign Aoxin and Dayang.

The tendrils were like black streaks; they were upon the aunt and nephew in the blink of an eye. They’d reacted fast, pulling back and bringing their swords up—but the tendrils slammed straight into the raised blades, shattered the metal.

And stabbed through their necks.

The tendrils pulled back just as fast as they’d struck, merging back into the darkness at Jiahao’s feet. For a moment, Sovereign Aoxin and Dayang just stood there, eyes wide, holding up broken blades. With gaping holes the size of fists through their necks.

The pair crumpled.

Dead. Just like that. This is—

No.

Jieyuan didn’t let himself focus on it.

Jiahao turned back toward them—only to pull back as a white-and-green streak flashed past where his head had just been.

Jiahao’s eyes went wide as he turned to the side of the street—where Xiaohu was now standing, growling at Jiahao.

“An Orangesoul beast—”

But then he snapped his head back toward them again—just in time to see Gleaming End, floating in front of Daojue, sweep down and cut through both of the tendrils on him.

Jiahao’s eyes went even wider. “You bonded the weapon—”

Another tendril shot at Daojue, but he was ready for it this time, ducking under it as he grabbed Gleaming End out of the air before lunging at Jiahao.

Daojue wasn’t the only one who could use soulforce on his weapon, either. The Shifting Feathers swept through the tendrils holding Jieyuan in much the same way. There was some resistance, but he told their egos to increase their weight, and they cut through.

He hadn’t known for sure the tendrils would be so easily cut. But after he learned Jiahao was only a third-sign Orangesoul, he’d been willing to bet that, at the very least, Gleaming End—at tenth-sign Orangesoul—was capable of it.

He took hold of them, turning toward Meiyao to free her; unlike him and Daojue, she hadn’t bonded her Orangesoul weapon, couldn’t use soulforce on it.

But he didn’t get to free her.

Meiyao’s hood had fallen back, revealing a pair of sharp, white-furred animal ears at the top of her head. Her hair was still dyed black, but Jieyuan caught thin white streaks in it. Her gauntlets had fallen to the ground; on her hands, claws, tipped with thick, sharp, curving nails, had taken the place of her fingers.

“You—”

Meiyao abruptly flared her arms open; the tendril wrapped around her stretched, then snapped. Her hands then whipped out like a blur, swinging her saber through the body of the bladed tendril on her neck.

Absolute Nature Unison, Jieyuan realized. She was using her bloodskill on Xiaohu, an Orangesoul beast—making Meiyao’s body like that of an Orangesoul. It’d been so long since he’d last seen her use it that he’d forgotten she had the ability.

Meiyao spared a glance at him, then rushed over to where Daojue and Xiaohu were keeping Jiahao busy: Daojue stabbing out with Gleaming End, weaving between the tendrils, while Xiaohu kept flitting back and forth, a streak in the air, running interference. Meiyao joined the fray with her saber swinging, cutting through the tendrils.

Fighting the instinct to do the same, Jieyuan hung back. He kept his eyes peeled on the fight, but it was utter chaos; everyone was moving too fast, and the storm of writhing tendrils shooting in every direction only made it worse.

Jieyuan watched. Analyzed. Jiahao had two realmskills. One that created the tendrils out of his shadow, another that let him transform parts of himself into shadow. But one thing Jieyuan had already figured out, almost from the get-go, was that Jiahao could only transform one part of his body at a time with his second realmskill.

Jieyuan quickly considered his options. At least one of his new soulskills could give him an edge here, even if he was still wary about using Sublime Fire Immolation. There was also Fatebloom Sacrifice; he had a drop of Heartblood just waiting to be used. But none of that would really guarantee victory. They would give him a boost, allow him to match Meiyao and Daojue, but that was it.

He needed more. And out of all his powers, there was only one that could really seal the deal.

Huaxin, buddy? Can you get me that sequence now?

A pause. Then: MOVE-WAIT-BLAST-THROW.

Several seconds into the future, squeezed into an instant. It all flashed past his mind’s eye: what was going to happen, what he had to do.

And it was beautiful.

Jieyuan grinned savagely. Thanks, buddy.

He took three steps to the side, getting himself in position. Then he leaned forward, adjusting his stance for what he was about to do. He moved his grip down the shafts of the Shifting Feathers until he was holding them at their ends.

He waited. One second. Two. Three—

“ENOUGH!” Jiahao roared from within the storm of tendrils and blurring combatants.

A gray-shaped blur shot backward: Daojue, disengaging. Right afterward, a dark pulse burst out of Jiahao’s body—a rolling wave of darkness. It slammed onto Meiyao and Xiaohu, throwing them back; Daojue had just narrowly managed to avoid it.

Jieyuan threw the Shifting Feathers.

The two golden blades reached Jiahao just as the darkness around him vanished. The Orangesoul whirled around at the last instant, toward Jieyuan, his neck transforming into shadows.

Like a loosed arrow, one of the Shifting Feathers went straight through Jiahao’s transformed neck and kept flying, vanishing from view behind the Orangesoul. The other Shifting Feather, though—it burrowed itself into Jiahao’s chest, through his heart, blade facing down.

Jiahao’s eyes flared wide. He stumbled backward, his eyes flicking down to the shaft of the blade sticking out of the center of his chest. “You—”

Jieyuan reached out for the ego of the Shifting Feather buried inside the Orangesoul, and told it to use its gearskill—and increase its weight to the limit.

This part hadn’t been in the sequence, but Jieyuan wasn’t about to take any chances.

Gold, what the Shifting Feathers were made of, was already plenty heavy on its own. The Shifting Feathers’ main gearskill could augment its weight a hundredfold now that it was at Orangesoul.

Sixty pounds became three tons.

Jiahao’s insides didn’t stand a chance.

The Orangesoul howled as the Shifting Feather stuck inside his body plunged, its augmented weight dragging it down fast—cleaving through Jiahao’s insides, down the ribcage, through the stomach and groin, before finally clattering to the ground between Jiahao’s legs.

Jiahao stopped screaming. His face, already pale, was now entirely devoid of color. His eyes, crazed, were fixed on Jieyuan as a thick line of red bloomed through the middle of his body, starting from his chest and extending all the way down to the groin.

Split nearly in two, the Orangesoul collapsed.