Chapter 151: DRINK AND TALK

Here you go, last Monday's chapter. Cutting it close, but at least it was still released in the right week.

CHAPTER

151

DRINK AND TALK

Jieyuan

—∞—

In a small but tidy living room, Jieyuan, Meiyao, and Daojue sat around a table in the dark. Xiaohu lay draped across Meiyao’s shoulders.

Daojue was silent, as usual, but Jieyuan and Meiyao weren’t speaking, either. Jieyuan was thinking, considering the situation, and he was pretty sure that so were the other two.

His feet drummed restlessly on the floor under the table; his body was filled with a heady, eager energy, one that desperately sought a release. There was a fire in him threatening to break out, and he was having a hard time keeping a lid on it.

Being back in Radiant Gold City felt strange.

An odd feeling of estrangement—if not outright alienation—had hung over Jieyuan since the moment he’d crossed its walls, and even though nearly an hour had passed since, he still hadn’t shaken it off.

He reckoned it had to do, at least in part, with how normal the city looked. Not even a year ago, Radiant Gold City had played host to a bloody revolution. You’d have no idea about that, though, walking around in the city.

Jieyuan recalled the glimpses he’d caught of the city on their way here. He hadn’t seen a single destroyed building, and all structures had looked perfectly golden and pristine. There hadn’t even been any signs of fire damage. Stranger still was how full the streets had been, with cultivators and mundanes alike.

He frowned; it was hard to reconcile this bustling and unmarred city with his last glimpse of Radiant Gold City, months ago: a scarred, blood-soaked battleground set alight by blue flames that bruised the skies.

The house they were in was squat and nondescript. It was in the Fourth City, the outermost ring of Radiant Gold City, closer to the fourth wall than the third. The two-bedroom residence, Jieyuan knew, had been built about thirty years ago as part of a housing project his family had overseen.

The Haoyujin had torn down the old buildings in the area, and in their place built several dozen near-identical houses intended to host servants of the family and the Radiant Gold Palace. An entire neighborhood, really. This particular house, Jieyuan also knew, had never been assigned to anyone; it had, supposedly, been lost in the paperwork, never mind how excruciatingly meticulous the Haoyujin were about bookkeeping.

There were two other things Jieyuan knew about this house, even though he’d never even seen it before today: its floor plan and all the secret paths that led to it. And he’d known all these things since he was ten years old.

There were about three dozen other houses spread throughout the Fourth, Third, and Second cities that he was just as familiar with. All of them nondescript, all of them uninhabited. Some of them were also bookkeeping mistakes; others had owners who only existed on paper.

Besides their understated appearance and unoccupied status, these houses all had one other thing in common: they were Haoyujin safe houses.

Absentmindedly, Jieyuan traced a line against the dust on the table, revealing the darker sheen of the lacquered wood beneath. The air was as dusty as the table, stale and musty; it was a good thing cultivators weren’t bothered about such things, because Jieyuan couldn’t exactly open the windows and risk alerting the neighbors that the house was suddenly inhabited.

The torches were also unlit, of course, but all three of them could see well enough in the dark.

Haoyujin children were taught about the family’s safe houses as soon as they were old enough to be trusted with secrets. Though this house, specifically, had been known only to the head household: to Jieyuan and his father. Not even his aunt, who’d taken over the family after his old man’s death, knew about it.

Not unless she’d managed to decipher the mess of cryptic ledgers and account books his old man had left behind for his successor to despair over, and Jieyuan very much doubted she had. She’d be prioritizing the main accounts, and it’d take decades before she got around to the books concerning the secret safe houses—if she even managed to hold on to the position that long, which was unlikely.

Jieyuan knew by heart the ciphers to all his old man’s codes, of course, but he’d left the family before his aunt could’ve pried them out of him. He wouldn’t avenge his old man (that just wasn’t how it was done in their family), but he also wouldn’t go out of the way to help his father’s murderer. Jieyuan also appreciated a little posthumous pettiness.

This sort of thing was traditional, anyway. His old man had dealt with the same cryptic paperwork when he took over after having Jieyuan’s uncle, the previous Haoyujin patriarch, killed. No doubt there were hundreds of businesses and properties throughout Radiant Gold City that had been lost in the Haoyujin’s succession struggles.

That was all part of the fun, though. Part of the deadly game his family had been playing for centuries, the game all Haoyujin both lived and died for. Thinking about it brought a little smile to Jieyuan’s face. He missed it: the plots, the schemes, the intrigue. If becoming a cultivator hadn’t been an option…

He tried to imagine what it’d have been like, just for a moment, but he drew blanks. It was just wrong, not being a cultivator. He couldn’t see himself being anything else. The only world where he’d give up on being a cultivator was one where cultivators didn’t exist.

Jieyuan’s gaze drifted up to the makeshift hood draped over Meiyao’s shoulders; he and Daojue wore similar ones. Before entering the city, the three of them had cut up some of Meiyao’s few remaining robes to make these hoods.

It wasn’t nearly as good as a full-blown disguise, but it had covered Meiyao’s and Daojue’s hair and face, which had done the trick; it helped that they’d managed to stay almost entirely out of sight throughout most of their journey to the house.

Something else Haoyujin children were trusted with was the many secret ways in and out of Radiant Gold City. It was through one such secret path that Jieyuan had managed to sneak the three of them into the city about an hour ago. He’d taken them straight to this house, using an underground entrance to enter it from the basement.

Getting them to the safe house (or rather, to the entrance of the secret tunnel connected to it) hadn’t been easy, though. They’d had to step out into the open streets a few times on their way here, and as it turned out, there was one thing Meiyao and Daojue weren’t preternaturally good at: sneaking around.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t be quiet; they could, and better than Jieyuan at that. But they drew the eye anyway, for all sorts of reasons, and there was really no helping it.

In the end, though, he’d managed to get them to the safe house without attracting too much attention.

And thank the Heavens for that. Jieyuan would have never thought his intimate—and technically illegal—knowledge of Radiant Gold City would come in handy now that he was a cultivator. But if there was one thing the Heavens liked to do, it was proving you wrong.

Just a few minutes had passed since they’d arrived at the safe house. After warning Meiyao and Daojue to avoid making noises and keep away from the windows, he had brought them up to the living room, and they had sat themselves around the table.

Then silence had taken over, and here they sat, in the gloom and quiet.

This was not exactly how Jieyuan had imagined their glorious return. But he also hadn’t imagined he’d find the city in such a fine state, either, which was exactly the problem at hand: he had absolutely no idea what was going on. No idea what had happened since the revolution.

And that, he decided, is our first order of business.

Jieyuan knocked loudly on the table. Dust surged into the air. Meiyao’s head snapped up, jerked away from her thoughts, while Daojue turned his attention toward him.

“We need information,” Jieyuan said, without preamble.

Meiyao narrowed her eyes at him. Her green eyes were bright and wild, and almost seemed to glow in the dark. “Information? No. What we need is to go to the Gleaming Stone Sect, find out what happened to my family, and butcher all the rotting—”

“Meiyao,” Jieyuan cut in. He’d known this was coming; honestly, he was surprised she’d managed to hold it in this long. “We can’t just charge into a sect like that; we’re good, but we can’t take on thousands of cultivators on our own. We also have no idea what’s been going on since we left. We need a plan. And to come up with one, we need to understand the situation.”

Meiyao still didn’t look convinced, so Jieyuan tried another approach: “I’m a Firesoul, Meiyao. I know my stakes in this aren’t anywhere near as high as yours, but trust me—I’m also burning to damn the consequences and go in, blades swinging, and get some heads rolling.”

That wasn’t a lie; he’d been restless from the moment they’d seen the city, anxious for action. It was moments like this that made him appreciate all the things his old man had put him through to build his discipline. To tame the fire in him. His feet kept tapping on the floor, the safest outlet for all the energy bubbling in him.

“But we can’t do that, because that’s suicidal. We’ll only stand a chance if we stack our odds as high as we can,” Jieyuan said. “Think about it. We’re up against, at the very least, two Redsoul sects. The Gleaming Stone Sect—assuming the Gleaming Nobles took over, and I’d be surprised if they hadn’t—and the Xiyunfeng Clan. The three of us can’t just declare war on two sects.”

He could see Meiyao faltering; just one more push, he reckoned, would seal the deal.

“There must’ve also been Orangesoul involvement,” Jieyuan said, “because there’s no way they could’ve dealt with the Howling Lightning Sect envoy otherwise. And remember the blue fire that took over the city—it didn’t register to our soulsense even when we got close, but was still clearly chromal. Which means, best case scenario, it was Orangesoul.”

Granted, that’s also the likeliest scenario, Jieyuan thought, but didn’t say. He doubted that whatever party had helped the Gleaming Nobles and the Xiyunfeng had been higher than Orangesoul. But that was beside the point. Orangesoul enemies were problem enough.

They’d dealt with Orangesoul beasts in the Dome, sure, but only low-sign ones. Even with how much stronger they’d gotten, Jieyuan wouldn’t bet on their odds against a high-sign Orangesoul cultivator.

Meiyao settled back down in her seat; she still looked disgruntled, but the fight had gone out of her.

“So, I repeat, we need information,” Jieyuan stressed. “I’ll go out, and I’ll see what I can learn.”

Meiyao straightened up again like a bamboo shoot.

“I’m going with you,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Daojue’s expression didn’t change much, but his brow furrowed a little; clearly, he wasn’t keen on sitting around, either.

Unfortunately for them, Jieyuan was prepared to brook arguments.

“No,” he said. Sure enough, that earned him a glare from Meiyao. But he stood his ground. “You—” Wouldn’t know discretion if it punched you in the gut. “You draw too much attention. Your looks. Face and figure.”

Meiyao tried to speak again, but he was faster: “We can take steps to hide all of that, I know. But it’s still a risk—and one we don’t have to take. I know the city much better, and I have more experience with this kind of thing. Besides, I already have an idea in mind.”

Jieyuan gave Daojue a pointed look, making it clear that all of this also went for him. It went ignored, of course, but that was how things were with Daojue.

Meiyao still didn’t look happy in the least. “And what’s that idea?”

“Well,” Jieyuan said, quite seriously, “I reckon I’ll go out for a drink.”

—∞—

Jieyuan walked freely through Radiant Street. He didn’t stop himself from looking around, taking in the sights. There was no harm in looking like some curious newcomer; it fit the role he meant to play.

He wore a plain gray mask that covered all his face, and robes that were just as gray and plain. He’d found both in the safe house; there’d been an entire wardrobe of clothes in one of the bedrooms. Or rather, outfits: so you could mimic just about anyone from any walk of life. His old man had been nothing if not thorough.

The commercial district was just as he remembered it, buzzing with cultivators. Even the establishments hadn’t changed; Jieyuan walked past the same ateliers and pavilions he knew had been there since before he was born. The more he saw, the more confused he became.

He wasn’t that surprised things hadn’t changed much for mundanes; cultivators ruled them, but it didn’t really matter who the cultivators in question were. The relationship between mundanes and cultivators was a symbiotic one; mundanes relied on cultivators for security, protection, and infrastructure, while cultivators relied on mundanes for menial jobs and as a means to bolster their numbers. For the most part, cultivators treated mundanes with casual, if not slightly benign, indifference.

Sure, it wasn’t all that uncommon for a mundane to go missing every once in a while (particularly those who frequented cultivator-heavy areas, and even more particularly those stupid enough to walk by the grounds of the Viridian Death Palace), but the Haoyujin had also managed the city’s mundane police force, so Jieyuan had a good idea of the numbers involved.

Less than one out of twenty mundane deaths had to do with cultivators, already accounting for mysterious disappearances. Ultimately, mundanes did far more harm to each other than cultivators could be bothered to.

The system had its flaws, but it worked; if a new sect took over, it wouldn’t mess with that.

But you’d expect things to be at least a little different for the cultivators. Jieyuan frowned under his mask. He was starting to wonder whether the Gleaming Nobles and the Xiyunfeng Clan had failed their revolution. But that couldn’t be it, either, because he could also see plenty of Xiyunfeng-owned businesses running as normals.

Even more concerning was that he could see cultivators from the Radiant Gold Sect, the Xiyunfeng Clan, and the Radiant Gold Palace all walking around normally. He only didn’t see Viridian Death Cultivators, but that was also normal; it was rare to find one of them out in the streets.

Everything looked perfectly normal, which made the situation decisively unusual in Jieyuan’s opinion. It was a mystery, and one he needed to get to the bottom of.

He’d already confirmed one thing, at least. His family was doing fine. Before getting to Radiant Street, he’d passed by the Haoyujin main compounds. He knew a couple of ways to reach it in secret, and he’d spent a little while observing it until he’d seen enough of his cousins and aunts and uncles walking through the grounds to be satisfied that they were all right.

He hadn’t made contact even though he could’ve easily reached out to his aunt, the new matriarch. It wasn’t that she’d have sold him out; regardless of the circumstances, that wasn’t the way the Haoyujin did business. But it would’ve still been a risk; servants could have overheard, or there might have been a cultivator visiting.

Besides, he doubted his aunt would have been able to tell him anything he wouldn’t be figuring out for himself in short order.

One other thing he’d learned on the way, picking up from conversations in the streets, was that they’d spent nearly a month longer in the forest than he’d calculated. It might be the lack of day and night in the viridian dome that was the issue, but he doubted it; he’d managed to keep track of time fairly well.

Rather, he had this feeling that this had to do with the Absolute Sword Trials; maybe when the Plunderer had transported him and Daojue into it, it hadn’t been as instantaneous as it’d felt like to them. This was something Jieyuan had wondered about before, too; it was too unlikely that they’d find Muyeshen’s cave just as the Absolute Sword Trial began.

All in all, they’d spent almost nine months in the Viridian Dome. Two hundred and sixty-six days, to be exact. Jieyuan wasn’t sure how important that information would turn out to be, but he put it away for later just in case.

His destination was near the middle of Radiant Street. He saw it long before he reached it; it was hard to miss: a tall, three-story building made entirely of brightgold, glowing like solid fire under the glare of the midday sun. Very few buildings outside the Radiant Gold Palace had gotten the full brightgold treatment, and this was one of them.

The Golden Chalice. The only winehouse owned by the Radiant Gold Sect. And, of course, managed and operated by the Haoyujin. Jieyuan stared up at its high, vaulted entrance, and the elegant calligraphy embossed in actual, mundane gold right over the open, massive double doors.

There were several chromal winehouses and teahouses in the city, some in Radiant Street and some outside. But the Golden Chalice was by far the biggest and most popular despite being the youngest of them all, having been built less than a century ago. It was the best place for getting a feel for the lay of the land.

There was another place where he could go for information, a proper location where knowledge could be bought. And Jieyuan also meant to go there eventually, but it was expensive, so he wanted to figure out as much as he could for free first.

Jieyuan walked through the doors, the feet of his greaves clinking dully on the metallic floor. Inside was a wide, open area, taken up by several tables of varying sizes.

Everything in sight was, of course, brightgold, from the floor to the ceiling and everything in between: tables, chairs, and even the dishes and cups. The cutlery to—no silverware here, no sir. It was goldenware.

You’d think it’d be garish, if not outright annoying, being surrounded by so much brightgold (which managed to be even more striking than mundane gold, what with how it softly glowed with its own light), but you’d be surprised by how fast you could get used to brightgold exposure.

Jieyuan did a quick scan of the room; most of the tables were occupied. He saw local cultivators, but most of them wore robes Jieyuan didn’t recognize; cultivators from sects of other districts, then, or unaffiliated ones. Perfect. Even better, Jieyuan found that more than a few were masked, so he wouldn’t be standing out much.

Masks were rather common among unaffiliated cultivators, and that was exactly what Jieyuan wanted others to think he was. You couldn’t hide your spirit-song (or at least Jieyuan didn’t know of any means of doing so), but it took time for others to memorize it. More time than most unaffiliated cultivators usually spent in any one place.

At the back was a stairway leading up to the higher floors, where there were private rooms; on the site of the steps was a set of open doors leading to the kitchens and stores. Mundane servers walked around the floor like busy ants, going ignored by the cultivators unless they were needed. The constant presence of the servers, Jieyuan knew, served two purposes.

One was, of course, to provide prompt service. The other was to listen in on the conversations so they could pass everything on to the floor managers later.

It’d been his great-grandfather who’d set up the Golden Chalice. Before, there’d been other similar establishments that catered to cultivators, but none from the Radiant Gold Sect. It wasn’t like the sect was lacking for money, after all.

But the Golden Chalice had never been meant to turn a profit, even though it had turned out to be one of their most profitable businesses. Rather, its real purpose was to gather intelligence both from visiting cultivators and the local ones.

Sighting him, one of the servers made her way over. She was a young woman, not particularly pretty but not unattractive either. The sort that just faded into the background and was easily forgotten. You could say the same, Jieyuan noticed, for just about all the other servers. It seemed like his aunt had maintained his old man’s hiring guidelines.

Cultivators didn’t tend to be a rowdy bunch, but there was no need to tempt them with beauty if you could help it. Besides, the less attention they paid to the servers, the more easily the servers could eavesdrop on them.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the young woman said, giving him a polite bow. “Table for one?”

“Yes,” Jieyuan said; he made his voice a bit higher than usual, tweaking the tone to make it unrecognizable. He probably didn’t need to (he didn’t see anyone he recognized), but being careful cost him nothing. “That one.”

He nodded toward an empty table near the center of the floor. The server bowed again and led him over to it. She stood to the side of the table as she took his seat.

“You can view our offerings, sir, by reading the jade book on the table,” the woman said, indicating the little block of jade embedded in the middle of the golden table top. “Would you like me to wait here for your order, sir?”

“Wait,” Jieyuan said curtly. He knew very well how dismissive cultivators were of mundanes, and he was acting the part right now. He reached forward and brushed his hand against the jade book, sending some chroma into it.

Words appeared in his mind’s eye; most of them were chromal wines of all sorts, but there was also a small selection of foods. Chromal food, made from chromal plants and beasts.

There wasn’t actually any benefit to eating chromal plants and beasts over common ones; Jieyuan had heard they all tended to taste delicious, but that was about it; it didn’t actually need to be chromal. The wine, though, was a different story; cultivators couldn’t get drunk on mundane wine. It actually had to be chromal.

Jieyuan hadn’t really eaten or drunk anything since becoming a cultivator. Back when he’d been a mundane, he’d had some idea of what they served in the Golden Chalice, but mostly in terms of costs and margins. Still, he’d always held his alcohol well, the few times he’d drunk anything, so he wasn’t too worried.

He picked an averagely priced bottle that he faintly recalled not being worth even half the listed price of five red prisms, and that was it. The server excused herself, and with her gone, Jieyuan could finally get started with what he’d really come here for.

Relaxing in his chair, assuming the posture of someone waiting, a bit impatiently, for his order, he focused on his hearing—and the many ongoing conversations around him came into focus. Words washed over him, bits and pieces of conversation. This was why he’d wanted a table in the middle.

“See Maeva,” he murmured.

A chair appeared across him, Maeva on it. She smiled at him; she’d never looked more out of place in her yellow sundress and white lab coat.

“I’ll take the left, you take the right?” Maeva asked.

That’ll do, Jieyuan thought at her.

He then focused on the conversations going on the right side of the room; Maeva would be focusing on the other side. He had no idea how that worked, given they shared the same mind, but he’d long since given up on trying to make sense of it all.

He could’ve used Twin Serpent Cognition to a similar effect, but his amphis was currently stored away in his glyph-stretch pouch; instead, he had a split spear sheathed at his sides. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing the unusual weapons; they looked similar to a split-up spear when sheathed, but not identical.

To Jieyuan’s surprise, he didn’t even have to wait before the topics he was looking for came up. One of the tables had Radiant Gold Sect members, and they were discussing the current situation of their sect—and whether the Gleaming Stone Sect was planning on taking control of Radiant Gold City any time soon, since they now ruled the district.

What?

Jieyuan kept himself from reacting as he focused fully on the table.

“… and we don’t know anything… Gleaming Stone Sect…”

“… when will Sovereign Qingshi make a move… Orangesoul…”

Wait, what? Sovereign Qingshi? Orangesoul?

Jieyuan didn’t manage to pick out every word, but what he managed to parse had him concerned, and growing even more so by the second. Another table, this one with foreign cultivators, also caught his attention as Jieyuan heard the words Howling Lightning Sect.

Focusing on it, Jieyuan took a few moments to catch up with the conversation. Apparently, they were wondering whether the remaining Howling Lightning Sect members (remaining?) had a shot at revolting against the Restless Flame Sect… which had absorbed it? What?

Jieyuan had never even heard about this Restless Flame Sect. Was it another Orangensoul sect? Restless Flame… Flame… Did it have to do with the blue fire that had swallowed the city in the day of the coup?

A picture was starting to form in Jieyuan’s mind, and it was a very confusing one.

A short while later, his server arrived with his wine. He absentmindedly had her pour him a cup before dismissing her, his attention still on those two tables.

He was quietly sipping his drink, pretending to appreciate it—the flavor didn’t even register, it was just liquid flowing down his throat—but then a third one also started talking about a subject he had an interest in: the fate of the Liangshibai. This table had Gleaming Stone Sect members.

Meiyao had told him to find out the situation with her family. That was her priority, so Jieyuan made it his.

“House arrest… Isolated from everyone else… Qingshi…”

“… Gleaming Nobles… Sovereign Protector…”

Qingshi again. Something about how he’d gone against the Gleaming Nobles and not killed the Liangshibai?

That’s… promising, Jieyuan thought, even though it only made him more confused. He kept listening, but unfortunately, he didn’t manage to find out much else. It turned out the Gleaming Stone Sect members themselves didn’t know a lot, either; the mystery of what was going on with the Liangshibai was, in fact, the core of their conversation.

They moved on to a different topic without Jieyuan learning anything new. He returned his attention to the two tables from earlier, but they’d also changed subjects.

Finishing his cup, Jieyuan assessed his state and confirmed he wasn’t even remotely tipsy yet. He poured himself another glass. All the while, he kept an ear out, but no other table drew his attention.

This little interlude turned out to be a good thing, though, because he was still reeling from one revelation in particular, and he needed to think it through.

Qingshi was an Orangesoul; not just that, he’d taken control of the Gleaming Stone Sect and was now its sovereign protector. Not just that, the Gleaming Stone Sect had supplanted the Radiant Gold Sect as the district’s ruler… Meaning they weren’t in the Radiant Gold District anymore. It was the Gleaming Stone District now.

Qingshi. Orangesoul.

Back during the revolution, Jieyuan had learned that Qingshi was not just still alive, but also a tenth-sign redsoul. And now he was apparently an Orangesoul. Had Qingshi still been hiding his true soulsign during the revolution? Had he already been an Orangesoul at the time, or had he broken through afterward?

Something else occurred to Jieyuan, and he stilled. Had Qingshi been an Orangesoul as early on as their fight in the Gleamstone Valley? Had he, Meiyao, and Daojue unknowingly fought an Orangesoul?

And how had Qingshi broken through, anyway? He must’ve needed an Orangesoul coalescence hymn for that. How had he gotten his hands on one? Had he found it, or been given it? Or… Maybe he’d created it?

Jieyuan didn’t know the specifics, but he’d heard it took upwards of decades of Concept pursuit, high enough heavenly affinity, and a great deal of luck to create even a Redsoul hymn, let alone an Orangesoul one.

Regardless of how he’d pulled it off, though, Qingshi was now an Orangesoul. That was definitely not good news, even if it looked like Qingshi was protecting the Liangshibai, which still didn’t make sense to Jieyuan.

More than anything else right now, though, Jieyuan needed to know what sign Qingshi was at. Because if Qingshi was a high-sign Orangesoul—just the thought of it made Jieyuan shudder—then he, Meiyao, and Daojue would really have to reevaluate their plans.

Jieyuan spent about an hour at the Golden Chalice, discreetly eavesdropping on the tables around him while he slowly worked his way through his bottle. The matter of the sects and the revolution came up often.

As far as cultivators were concerned, something that had happened in the last few decades was recent, let alone less than a year ago. That was exactly what Jieyuan had been counting on when he decided to come here. And he’d been right; he’d ended up learning plenty.

Unfortunately, he’d also be leaving with more questions than he had when he came in.

His bottle done, Jieyuan considered asking for another; he still wasn’t exactly drunk, and even if he were, he reckoned he could counteract the effects with Absolute Will Command. But he’d already managed to form a clear enough impression of the big picture; now what he needed were the details, and he doubted he’d be getting those by sticking around.

He didn’t want to stay out too long, anyway; Meiyao had told him she’d be hunting him down if he wasn’t back by nightfall. There were still a few hours to go before then, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to set out well before sunset.

Jieyuan waved a server over, paid for his bottle, and left. No doubt his presence here would be reported, but he wasn’t particularly concerned. They’d just mark as a foreign unaffiliated cultivator keeping a low profile.

He made one little stop at a nearby building, then set off in the direction of the safe house. On the way back, he talked with Maeva; she filled in some details with what she’d learned from the other side of the room, but she didn’t have all that much to add; mostly she just confirmed the conclusions he’d come to.

The real question now was how Meiyao and Daojue would take all the news—and how they’d go from there.