The rest of the fight had been almost anticlimactic.

  Bai Ning had steeled herself for a harrowing struggle against the Gu, but the moment Jin Rou had drawn the sealed jar from Hua Duzi’s storage pouch, it had been as if the battle were already decided. He had tried piercing it with his flying needle, only to find the weapon slid off harmlessly. Bai Ning had raised her sword, meaning to cleave the jar open herself, but the cultivator with the fan had merely glanced at it and flicked his wrist.

  A crescent of green wind had cut through the air. The jar had split cleanly in two.

  A dying screech had torn through the cosmic bubble: inhuman, keening, and suffused with agony. The Gu had screamed as though it had been set ablaze from within. At last Bai Ning had seen it clearly: a length of pulsing flesh, mottled with pus-filled blisters and ridged with patches of black carapace. The next instant, it had been engulfed in white light as the Core Formation cultivators had unleashed their might.

  Then had come another blast. And another.

  When the smoke had finally thinned, there had been almost nothing left, only scattered scraps of blackened meat, twitching faintly against the void. The sight had turned Bai Ning’s stomach, but the four Core Formation cultivators had moved without pause. Jin Rong had caught his son in a sweep of qi, while Master Mo Jian had done the same for her.

  They had taken their places at the four cardinal points surrounding the dying creature, and had unleashed one final strike. Master Mo Jian had conjured a fearsome cone of azure flame. The man with the vial, and the man with the fan had summoned smaller fireballs. Jin Rong had hurled a vast trident made out of roaring flames.

  The four streams of fire had converged at a single point. For an instant, the entire cosmic bubble had seemed to crack apart under the impact. When sight had returned to Bai Ning, there had been nothing left. The place where their powers had met had been scoured to blankness.

  Master Mo Jian had offered an explanation. “If it were alive,” he had said quietly, “then fire would have done nothing. Since it was burned, we can be certain it is dead.”

  And that had been the end of it.

  They had left the cosmic bubble soon after, each Core Formation cultivator flying off in a separate direction, while Bai Ning and Jin Rou had been carried along in their guardians’ qi. On the journey back to Blackrock Island, Bai Ning had tried to tell her master about the bone shard from the immortal Gu, and everything that had happened since, but he had only listened in silence, nodded once, and told her they would speak of it later. The fact that he had not noticed her advancement had only deepened her unease.

  She had been certain that Jin Rou was recounting the same tale to his father, only colored by his own slant of truth.

  When they had arrived at Blackrock Island, Master Mo Jian had laid a formation over their guest quarters and had retired to his chambers, though whether to sleep or to meditate, Bai Ning could not tell. He had simply told her not to disturb him.

  That was three days ago.

  Bai Ning was not foolish, no matter how reckless some of her actions might seem. She had made certain not to leave her rooms during that time. Blackrock Island was in turmoil – that much she could sense – but she had confined herself to vigilance, remaining on guard and waiting for Master Mo Jian to emerge. He must have been hurt far worse than she had initially thought, if it was taking him this long to recover.

  Voice transmission talismans had arrived three times over the past few days, inquiring whether Master Mo Jian had emerged from seclusion, but thankfully, none carried questions she could not answer. At the very least, the matter of the black bone shard had not been raised. Jin Rong himself had not appeared, and for that, she was quietly grateful.

  Now, however, she was no longer sure what to think.

  Half an hour ago, a voice transmission talisman had torn through the air and alighted at her window. When Bai Ning tried to open it with her qi, it had shied away. After several fruitless attempts, she realized it would only respond to her master’s energy. Dutifully, she had knocked on his door to inform him, only for the talisman, sensing its chance, to slip past her and phase directly through the barrier.

  She had been too startled to stop it. It was, without question, the finest such talisman she had ever seen.

  Moments later, Master Mo Jian’s qi had flared once, sharp and bright, before settling again into stillness.

  Then the door opened.

  Bai Ning rose to her feet at once. Master Mo Jian stepped out, looking once more composed and immaculate. Even his expression was relaxed, no longer carrying the harried exhaustion she had seen before.

  “Master,” she exclaimed. “How are you? More importantly, what was the message about?”

  Master Mo Jian, in the midst of offering her a greeting smile, froze. His brow furrowed. “More importantly?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his tone. “I was in recovery for three days, and a message is more important than that?” His voice trailed off, amusement flickering across his face.

  Bai Ning fought the urge to smile. So, he was fine after all. That was a relief. Still, she managed to put on a suitably wounded expression.

  “Of course. I would have been a lot more worried if you hadn’t ignored all my messages till now.” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “This is all on you, Master.”

  Instead of continuing the banter, Mo Jian’s expression sobered. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your little joke during the fight, either. I keep telling you; this is not a matter to make light of. I foresee a punishment in your future, disciple.”

  Bai Ning shrugged, entirely unconcerned. It had been the most expedient way of drawing his attention back then. She had merely done what she needed to do.

  Mo Jian fixed her with a long, measuring look, but when he saw she was utterly unrepentant, he sighed. Yes, things were back to normal.

  He continued, his tone turning more serious. “The message was from Jin Rong. It seems Prince Xuan Zhaoting has come for a visit.”

  Bai Ning’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that name; everyone in the Thousand Shattered Islands did.

  Nominally, Ancestor Qing was the head of the Righteous Alliance. In practice, a man of such venerable cultivation had far greater matters to occupy his attention. The day-to-day affairs were thus handled by Prince Xuan Zhaoting.

  He was not a true prince, in the sense that he was not related by blood to the Imperial family from the mainland, at least. The title was one of courtesy. Xuan Zhaoting ruled over the largest and most prosperous city in the Thousand Shattered Islands, the famed Cloud City of the Nine Heavens. In terms of personal cultivation, he was said to stand closest to the Nascent Soul realm, foremost among the Core Formation cultivators still alive.

  Whether influence or strength, the man possessed both in abundance. If he had come in person, then…

  Well, she could not say, but it was certain to be a memorable meeting.

  Master Mo Jian caught the direction of her thoughts immediately. “You aren’t coming,” he said. “It’s for Core Formation cultivators only.”

  Bai Ning stared at him, outraged. “What? How does that make sense? I was just as much a part of the battle as anyone else! Master, protest on your amazing disciple’s behalf.”

  Mo Jian snorted. “My amazing disciple can demonstrate her amazingness by staying in her rooms while I go see what the Righteous Alliance wants. After that, we’ll deal with the rest of the pending matters.” His tone shifted, faintly bewildered. “Did my ears deceive me on the way back, or did you mention you had a bone from an immortal Gu?” He sounded like he was hoping it had been a hallucination.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  In response, Bai Ning reached into her storage pouch and drew it out. The shard of bone was as dull as ever, refusing to catch the light. It seemed to swallow brightness into itself, devouring it. The first time she had touched it, the words and emotions that had surfaced in her mind had nearly overwhelmed her, but now, the shock had dulled.

  Master Mo Jian studied it for a long moment before shaking his head. “Alright. Tuck it away. I’ll speak with Jin Rong. It was wise to make sure it ended up with you. As much as I’ve grown to tolerate him, no man in a position of power should have that thing near him. It will only bring trouble.”

  Bai Ning nodded. That summed up her own thoughts well enough. She didn’t like Jin Rong. His arrogance grated, but if Master Mo Jian wished to call him a friend, she would bite her tongue for his sake.

  Mo Jian left soon after, his robes vanishing into the morning light with barely a ripple of qi.

  Bai Ning stood by the doorway long after he was gone, her hand still resting against the frame. The faint traces of his spiritual energy clung to the air, warm and steady, before dispersing like mist. She exhaled slowly.

  Prince Xuan Zhaoting. The name still echoed in her thoughts.

  There were few figures in the Thousand Shattered Islands whose mere presence could command the attention of every great sect and clan. He was one of them. Among the righteous cultivators, Xuan Zhaoting’s authority was a law unto itself. If he had come all the way to Blackrock Island, then the fight against the Gu must have carried consequences far beyond what she could guess.

  Her hand went instinctively to the pouch at her waist, feeling the faint, unnatural chill of the bone shard within. It pulsed ever so slightly beneath her fingertips, as though aware of her thoughts. She withdrew her hand at once.

  A shiver traced her spine.

  She shook off the feeling and turned toward the window. Outside, the sea stretched endlessly into a haze of silver light. Waves crashed against the black cliffs below, their rhythm distant but steady.

  Suppose nothing unexpected happened in the meeting, then what? Would she and Master Mo Jian leave and go into hiding somewhere else? It felt distant, given all that had occurred on the island. Yet the reason they had come this far in the first place was to avoid Song Shaoyue and Han Wenqing.

  Honestly, what she wanted most was to return home. Back to Cloud Veil Ridge, and even to the Greater Dharma Sect. They had maintained their distance because it was wiser that way; her parents at least had some chance of remaining safe, unthreatened or uncoerced, if they did not seem to be close. But it had been over half a year since she had seen them. She wondered how they were faring.

  What were the odds of returning safely? Not good, Bai Ning knew, without having to check. This incident could make things far worse than before. The last thing they needed was for rumors of their presence to spread.

  Bai Ning usually fought to remain cheerful, but this shadow of helplessness had lurked in the back of her mind for some time now, no matter how far she traveled.

  “One day,” she promised herself. “One day, it won’t be like this.”

  But until then, she had to play it safe.

  ………………………

  Prince Xuan Zhaoting looked more like a court jester than a court official, Mo Jian thought.

  Since he was neither stupid nor suicidal, the thought would remain unspoken. Regardless of the man’s… flamboyant appearance, in terms of raw strength, he was easily the most powerful in the room.

  They had gathered in a small, simple meeting room, devoid of windows or openings beyond the door. There were no decorations or embellishments. If anything, the space resembled a storage room more than a place meant to receive an honored guest.

  It spoke volumes about Jin Rong’s attitude, Mo Jian mused. This was a deliberate provocation toward the Righteous Alliance. The prince had been asked to wait, rather than the other way around, which Mo Jian considered pushing the line of decorum even further.

  Now, all four of them – Jin Rong, Li Deng, Chi Shen, and Mo Jian – sat at one end of the low table, while Prince Xuan Zhaoting took the other. To his credit, the prince remained composed and courteous, showing no outward reaction to the slight he was enduring.

  Under the protection and privacy afforded by several powerful formations, a discussion was ongoing.

  “-and those were the exact words of the Alliance,” Jin Rong spat, his anger clear in every syllable. “Busy, as if a Gu was not set to devour this entire region! I fought, the fellow Daoists by my side fought, and where was the Alliance? Cowering in its gilded halls and sipping tea. And now that the fight is over, you show up with demands?”

  Mo Jian did not think Jin Rong’s words were unreasonable, yet he winced at the delivery. It could have been phrased far more diplomatically. And was the pointed remark about tea really necessary? There was nothing wrong in enjoying it.

  Prince Xuan Zhaoting raised a hand. The peacock feathers stitched along the wide sleeve of his robe shimmered as they caught the light, tracing arcs of green and blue.

  His robes themselves were a spectacle: deep violet silk embroidered with golden dragons whose scales seemed almost three-dimensional, each tipped with tiny beads that chimed faintly when he moved. Long, stilleted sandals extended awkwardly beyond the hem of the garment, gold-threaded and curling at the toes. A sash of translucent jade ribbon hung across his chest, fluttering lightly despite the stillness of the room. And on his head rested a hat made of trailing pebbles, each one polished and strung in delicate filaments, swaying with every subtle tilt of his head.

  “The circumstances at the time we received your initial message were different,” he said. Though his words were apologetic, his tone remained firm and commanding. “It is precisely because the Alliance misjudged the severity of the event that I am here in the first place. Make no mistake, we could not have acted without due diligence. You fought admirably, but reckless courage does not always serve the greater good.” He leaned back, and the tiny pebbles on his hat swayed as if echoing his thought.

  Jin Rong made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “You speak of circumstances, but the fool we fought told us the truth: the Old Devil made a move, and you decided to show your true colors in the face of his threat. The colors of a yellow-bellied coward.” He slammed his hand down on the table, the crack ringing sharply in the room.

  “Did he now?” Xuan Zhaoting asked, leaning slightly forward again. “And you took him at his word, instead of suspecting he was trying to avoid a fight by making you hesitate? I wonder, Island Master, if this antipathy toward the Righteous Alliance was born long before the Gu incident, and you are merely trying to cast us in the worst possible light.”

  This was going poorly. Mo Jian did not want to speak up, but he considered intervening regardless. After all, after fighting a Gu, making an enemy of the Righteous Alliance was not on his cards.

  Jin Rong swelled with visible indignation, but Li Deng raised a small, shriveled hand, the other stroking his snow-white beard.

  “Prince,” he said evenly, “this old man was present in the fight as well. Should I take your words to mean the Alliance does not hold any of us in esteem? Four cultivators faced the Gu, and all four were fooled by a Foundation Establishment junior? Is that what you are suggesting?”

  Xuan Zhaoting turned toward Li Deng, and the air in the room seemed to tighten. The weight of the prince’s presence pressed down on all of them, a reminder of the kind of person they were dealing with.

  Mo Jian, watching quietly, could not help but think that while Xuan Zhaoting might look like a flamboyant court jester, every stitch, feather, and pebble was a deliberate signal. Appearance, in his world, was as much a weapon as any sword or spell.

  Then the prince smiled, and the tension dissipated.

  “No,” he said, voice smooth, “the Alliance holds all of you, and your efforts, in the highest esteem. But it is wise to understand that negotiations are best conducted when both parties show good faith.”

  The others exchanged a quick glance, understanding dawning on every face. Even Jin Rong, visibly bristling moments ago, straightened in his seat. So, that was the purpose of this meeting.

  Chi Shen was the first to speak, after a long moment. “Perhaps we did not hear clearly, then. Hua Duzi was likely inventing all sorts of ridiculous claims to evade responsibility.” He smiled, a subtle peace offering that earned a gracious return from the prince.

  Jin Rong, grimacing, did not protest. A negotiation; that was how the prince had framed this meeting just now. It implied gains and losses, carefully weighed. Backing down now could mean securing something in return. How that trade-off measured up would set the tone for the rest of the meeting, and shape how the Gu incident was presented to the public.

  Xuan Zhaoting’s gaze swept across the table, lingering on each face just a moment too long, in meticulous scrutiny. Whatever he saw must have pleased him, because his next words were far more conciliatory.

  “Good. Then we can move forward. To start, the Alliance will ensure that the scars left by this incident are addressed swiftly and thoroughly. To that end, I am prepared to offer a package of two thousand mid-grade spirit stones each to Blackrock Island, Poison Valley Island, and Redloam Island. Additionally, I am willing to grant personal requests and provide assistance, depending on the needs of you Daoists.”

  He smiled again, arms outstretched, as if presenting a banquet too lavish to ignore.

  He might as well have. Mo Jian had enough practice recently to keep his own expression smooth, but the same could not be said of his companions. Shock and greed flashed across every face, as though they were already divvying the spoils. Even Li Deng, who claimed he was not long for this world, seemed captivated.

  It was clear the Alliance was serious about framing this incident favorably. Generosity barely covered the scale of the offer. And the mention of personal favors…

  Mo Jian cleared his throat before the room could descend into further negotiations. He had hoped to remain as inconspicuous as furniture, passing the time without incident, but here lay an opportunity only a fool would ignore: a chance to solve many of his, and Bai Ning’s, current troubles.

  “I offer my congratulations, Fellow Daoists,” he said, turning toward the three beside him. Then, pivoting to face the prince, he added with deliberate calm, “And while I am pleased that the region will prosper with the Alliance’s help, I must admit I am not from here, and the gesture feels… hollow to me. May I request something from the prince on behalf of myself and my disciple, who also fought in the battle?”

  Li Deng, Chi Shen, and Jin Rong instantly sobered, a trace of embarrassment crossing their faces. The prince, however, only regarded Mo Jian with a slow, approving smile. If anything, he seemed entertained by the straightforwardness.

  “Of course, Fellow Daoist Mo Jian. As long as the request is within my power, I will do my utmost to help you. And in exchange…” He raised an eyebrow, silently inviting Mo Jian to finish the sentence.

  Mo Jian inclined his head with precision. “In return, whatever is decided between you and Jin Rong shall be the only version of this event I ever speak of publicly.”

  A beat of silence followed. Then the prince’s smile widened, and the true negotiations began.