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Chapter 4: IN THE GAZE
🕑 Added 2024-09-13 14:09:08 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
4
IN THE GAZE
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Meiyao stared up at Daojue. Daojue stared down back at her. Neither of them moved. Both looked impassive. They were on Daojue’s doorstep. Meiyao had finished giving Daojue the same explanation she’d given Jieyuan earlier and had then half-asked, half-demanded to come inside so they could further discuss the matter.
Jieyuan stood to the side, minding his own business. If Meiyao wanted to be the one to deal with Daojue, all the power to her. Heavens knew she’d need it.
Just as he was starting to think they’d be there all day, Meiyao and Daojue locked in this bizarre staring contest of theirs, Daojue moved away from the doorway, making way for them.
With a triumphant snort, Meiyao strode inside. Jieyuan was just a step behind her.
There wasn’t much to see in Daojue’s living room. Much like Jieyuan, Daojue didn’t seem to have done any decorating after being assigned his residence. There was a table in the center of it with two chairs on either side of it, and that was it. The blinds, on the other hand, were fully open, leaving the room well-lit.
Daojue closed the door, then strode over to the table and took a seat. Meiyao didn’t need to be told to do the same, sitting down on the chair opposite Daojue’s. Jieyuan chose the chair beside hers.
Both Daojue and Meiyao sat ramrod straight. Clanborn etiquette. Be it sitting or standing, you did it proud and tall. Slouching? Perish the thought. For himself, Jieyuan was happy to lean back against the backrest. As the son of one of the city’s wealthiest merchants, he’d had his fair share of etiquette lessons, and he could go to the table with the best of them, but he didn’t care to put on a show for these two. Definitely not for Daojue, at least.
“First of all,” Meiyao said, looking between Jieyuan and Daojue, “how close are you two to third-sign Redsoul?” she said in that half-asking, half-demanding way of hers Jieyuan had already grown used to.
About a month away, Jieyuan thought. He was about to say as much when Meiyao followed up with an answer to her own question. “I’m expecting to break through in two weeks, on the fifth of Yellowfull.”
Or maybe not. Jieyuan held his tongue and decided to wait for Daojue’s answer before saying anything himself.
“Twelve days,” Daojue said.
Jieyuan drummed his fingers on the table now that he was his turn. “I’ll need… twenty days.” Left unsaid was that he’d have to use up pretty much all the prisms he had if he wanted to keep his chroma reserves—his soulprism—topped up for the Hunt. “So on the eleventh for me.” He could do it even faster, but he wanted to get some practice in with Absolute Mind Command. He could stomach falling behind Meiyao and Daojue by a couple of days in exchange.
“So we’re all advancing only after the Hunt starts. Good,” Meiyao said. “Here’s what I have in mind. The Glistenstone Forest is separated into the Outer Forest and the Inner Forest. So is the Glistenstone Hunt. The Outer Hunt, in the Outer Forest, for the outer disciples, and the Inner Hunt, in the Inner Forest, for the higher echelons. There isn’t, however, any rule that says that we outer disciples can’t hunt in the Inner Forest. I had it confirmed this morning. It’s just that it’s not recommended.”
Jieyuan snorted. Not recommended was a bit of an understatement, and given how Meiyao had said it, she was well aware of it. He hadn’t had the time to look into the Glistenstone Forest properly yet, but he’d heard the basics, about the Outer and Inner Forests and what to expect from them. Based on what he knew, outer disciples trying their luck in the Inner Forest wasn’t that far off from suicide. And it’d make for a rather gruesome way to go, too. The weakest beasts in the Inner Forest were at third-sign Redsoul, and outer disciples were only second-sign redsouls at most. Faced with a third-sign Redsoul beast, your average second-sign redsoul would be Streambound in the blink of an eye, soul plucked up by the Silver Stream and kept in its silvery currents until there came along a suitable enough meat suit for them to inhabit. What with their previous meat suit having been reduced to little more than a pool of blood and a splattering of flesh and bones and guts.
“There’s something else I had confirmed. If we advance to third-sign Redsoul inside the Glistenstone Forest, we’ll still be considered outer disciples. And that means we’ll still be part of the Outer Hunt.” Meiyao leaned forward, over the table, and Jieyuan did his best to keep his eyes up, on her face, and not on the wondrous things her position and the table did to the upper half of her body. “Except we’ll be hunting third-sign and above glistenstone beasts, and they’re worth far more than first-sign and second-sign ones. We’d be able to guarantee first place after only a few days of hunting. That’d get us a prize of three thousand tenthprisms.”
Three thousand tenthprisms. That kicked all other thoughts right out of Jieyuan’s head. That many tenthprisms split three ways meant a thousand tenths—the equivalent of a hundred whole prisms—for each of them. More than enough to tide him over until the Summit, and that was using prisms every single chroma-harvesting session. If that’s what he had to look forward to, he could put to rest all any issues he had with burning through his current stash to speed things along.
But he was also a merchant’s son, and you didn’t sign a deal without putting all his options on the scale first. You only committed to something once you knew all the relevant weights. “And what sort of prize would we be looking at if we managed to make it into the Inner Hunt?”
“Not even a third of that.” Meiyao waved her hand dismissively. “Many of the core disciples participating will be sixth-sign redsouls, and there’ll be dozens of fourth- and fifth-signs between the inner and prime disciples. We’d be hard-pressed to rank above fifty, and that far low in the Inner Hunt, the reward isn’t even a thousand tenthprisms.”
She tapped the table. “The only advantage of making it into the Inner Hunt would be that it ends after just two weeks. That’s half a month earlier than the Outer Hunt, to give the higher-echelon disciples time to rest and prepare for the Summit. But as I said earlier, we’d only need to hunt a couple of days in the Inner Forest to guarantee first place. We can head on to the Inner Forest once we’ve all advanced—on the eleventh, or even earlier if you can manage it—and after that we’d only need to hunt for a handful of days or so to get a safe enough score. Afterward, we can focus on cultivation in preparation for the Summit, still in the forest.”
“Color me convinced, then,” Jieyuan said. His eyes caught Daojue’s, then Meiyao’s. He had his own contribution to make. “But I don’t think we need to wait until we’re at third-sign to make for the Inner Forest. I say we do it as soon as the Hunt begins. Between the three of us, even at second-sign Redsoul, we should be able to take on a third-sign Redsoul beast. And after we break through, we can look into hunting fourth-sign, fifth-sign ones.”
If there was a team of second-sign redsouls that could take on third-sign Redsoul beasts, it was theirs. Your average second-sign redsoul wouldn’t stand a chance, true, but none of them were average. Far from it. And if they could pull it off, then once they made a breakthrough he reckoned they could go as far as two strata higher. The higher the strata, the smaller the power gap between them, and the difference between fifth-sign and third-sign was only slightly bigger than that between third-sign and second-sign. Go big or go bigger still, Jieyuan’s old man used to say, and in that much at least they had managed to agree on. Would always agree on.
Meiyao gave him a brief, measuring look, then said, “That’s fine by me.”
She’d been thrown off by his suggestion. Hadn’t expected it. He could see it in her eyes, in her gleaming green eyes, in the lovely lines of her face.
Had he impressed her? Maybe. Probably.
Jieyuan caught sweet, swimming satisfaction swelling inside him, and he was quick to stifle it.
No, he told himself. You are not going there.
He couldn’t afford any distractions. He had his priorities set ruler-straight. Ruler-straight.
He turned to Daojue. “What about you? Agreed?”
Daojue gazed back at him evenly—almost placidly, but placid wasn’t a word you could use to describe Daojue. There was an intensity to his stillness that did away with any notion of tranquility. Jieyuan wasn’t sure what exactly sat behind Daojue’s light violet eyes, but whatever it was, he had a feeling that it was only barely contained.
This time, what Jieyuan found himself stifling was a shiver.
At last, Daojue deigned to dignify him with a reply. “Agreed.”
“So we have our plan,” Jieyuan said. Remembering something else, he turned to Meiyao. “What about Qingshi? If he was really behind Rongkai’s assassination attempt on Daojue, it seems to me like the Hunt would be the perfect place to give it another go and see if it stuck this time. He might even try to do it himself. And Qingshi’s no Rongkai.”
And wasn’t that another understatement. Qingshi most definitely was no Rongaki, no small-time, insignificant inner disciple. Rather, Qingshi was the strongest prime disciple in the sect—a fifth-sign redsoul who’d beaten a seventh-sign Redsoul core disciple just a couple of months ago in a duel—and his aptitude for martial arts took on an almost mythical quality when you considered Qingshi’s unique circumstances. Even if all three of them advanced to third-sign Redsoul, Jieyuan wasn’t all that sure of their odds against the prime disciple. And if Qingshi did come for them, there was no guarantee he’d be alone when he did, and that wouldn’t help their odds any.
No matter what, Jieyuan would still be taking part in the Glistenstone Hunt. He wasn’t about to let what-ifs cower him, and if Qingshi did pay them a visit… Well, he’d figure something out, when and then. But he’d rather not be caught off-guard, pants down and back bare and what have you, if he could help it.
His words got a derisive scoff from Meiyao. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Qingshi would have to be an idiot to try anything during the Hunt.” More quietly, now, “We’re not supposed to know this, but the sect will have elders watching over high-value disciples. That includes all the core disciples and prime disciples, obviously, but also a few special inner and outer disciples—those guaranteed to get scouted come the Summit, like us. I think we’ll be assigned at least an inner elder as our watcher, if not a senior protector.”
And no doubt you being the sect leader’s daughter helped, Jieyuan almost said. No matter how strained Meiyao’s relationship with her father was, he doubted that hadn’t been taken into consideration by the upper echelons. Still, now that Meiyao had put things that way, in that perspective, he could tell they’d have been assigned protection regardless of her parentage. As far as the sect was concerned, the three of them were investments, and you didn’t risk your investments if you could help it. No, you kept them safe until it was time to collect the profits.
“And Qingshi will have an elder watching over his team, as well,” Meiyao carried on. “To get to us, he’d have both our watcher and his to deal with. So it’s as I said earlier. Unless Qingshi takes leave of his wits, he’ll stay put. And if he does try something, if he somehow manages to get past the two watchers?” Meiyao smiled and there was a feral, teeth-baring quality to it, almost like a snarl. “He will not find us easy prey.”
Jieyuan stared on for a moment, stunned, then looked away, swallowing dryly. Heavens. Sweet, radiant Heavens. Meiyao sure wasn’t making this easy on him, was she? He’d never seen her smile like that before, and… She had no business smiling like that. None at all. He swallowed again and cleared his throat, now oddly thick. “I guess that matter’s settled.”
He glanced at Daojue—the whole deal with Qingshi came down to him, after all, and he was better off not looking at Meiyao right now—but Daojue remained impassive as ever, the perfect stoic Metalsoul. He was paying attention, his violet eyes on them, clear and intent, but going by the indifferent look he wore, you wouldn’t have been able to tell he had any personal stakes in the matter. A consummate bystander, that one.
“Then there’s only one thing left to do.” Meiyao reached up to her right ear and plucked out a small, emerald-studded earring. She held it out in the middle of the table. “Exchanging ciphers. Jieyuan, Rongkai had a mindbond artifact. Did you bring it with you?”
Jieyuan could hardly say he was surprised that Meiyao already had a mindbond artifact, what with her being practically sect royalty. “I did.” He tapped his mindbond ring. “Bonded it, too.”
“I thought as much,” Meiyao said. “You don’t know how to exchange ciphers, right? I’ll do it. Just bring your artifact forward and touch it to mine.” She extended the hand holding the earring out towards him.
Jieyuan did as instructed, reaching over with his right hand and pressed his mindbond ring against Meiyao’s earring. With his soulsense he felt Meiyao gather chroma where the two artifacts met each other, chromabonding them.
Jieyuan pulled back his hand and channeled chroma into his ring, as he’d had done in his room before bonding the ring. This time, it wasn’t an impression of an empty list he got. There was a something in it now. It wasn’t a number, a word, or even something concrete like that, but a vaguer sort of presence. Hard to describe.
Meiyao turned to Daojue. “I’m assuming you have one too.”
In a surprising show of readiness, Daojue didn’t mull over the matter for long before reaching forward with a closed fist, a silver ring on his middle finger, and brushed it against Meiyao’s earring. Then, showing initiative of the kind Jieyuan thought he’d never see from his teammate, Daojue held out his ring towards Jieyuan.
Jieyuan touched his ring to Daojue’s, and he sensed Daojue chromabond the two artifacts as Meiyao had done earlier. They brought their hands back at the same time.
“Well, I believe we’re done here.” Meiyao returned her mindbond earring to her ear and stood up. Jieyuan stared up at her, surprised at the abruptness of the announcement. “I’ll see the two of you on the—”
“Actually,” Jieyuan cut in as he got on his feet too. Meiyao might be in a hurry to go for some reason, but that wasn’t stopping him. “There’s something I wanted to ask you. I bonded Rongkai’s skillseed. I need someone to practice it on.”
“You did?” Meiyao blinked. Then, perhaps for the first time since Jieyuan had met her, he saw hesitation flicker across her face. “I believe… I believe I can spare some time, yes.” And then she was back to looking as she usually did. Confident, composed.
“Great,” Jieyuan said. He tried not to dwell on Meiyao’s reaction and what it could mean. All that mattered was that he’d gotten someone to practice Absolute Mind Command on. He looked to Daojue. “What about…”
He trailed off. Daojue was still sitting, coolly regarding them. His expression remained unchanging, or at least it seemed to, but Jieyuan felt he could detect a shadow of impatience in it, a tenseness so minute it was impossible to pinpoint what exactly it was about Daojue’s face that betrayed it.
Jieyuan decided not to press his luck. He wasn’t afraid of Daojue—Heavens forbid—but you didn’t poke the grumpy deadly lion if you didn’t need to. That was just a healthy dose of good sense.
“Right,” Jieyuan said dryly. “Never mind that. I think we’re done—”
In one fluid, graceful motion, Daojue stood up. Wordlessly, he walked past them, to the entrance, and opened the door without preamble. For a moment, Jieyuan thought that was Daojue’s not-so-subtle way of telling them to leave without actually saying the word—Jieyuan certainly wouldn’t have put it past him—but then he noticed someone approaching the doorway from the outside.
Jieyuan took a step to the side to get a better look.
It was a woman. A very tall woman. About as tall as Meiyao, if not a bit taller. And she was beautiful. She didn’t quite measure up to Meiyao—Jieyuan doubted anyone could—but she was the one who’d come the closest so far, even if the two of them couldn’t have looked any more different. With Meiyao still in his line of sight, to the left, he couldn’t help but draw comparisons.
The woman by the doorway had cold, alabaster-pale skin—where Meiyao’s was borderline rosy with vitality—and straight black hair that framed her face like an inky curtain, nothing at all like Meiyao’s cascade of brown curls. The lines of the woman’s face were angular, reminding him of the Liangshibai, but her eyes were black, mundane. And even though she was draped in jewelry—blood rubies and diamonds—like the Liangshibai always were, she lacked the willowy, slender figure of the Liangshibai. Rather, the woman was closer to Meiyao in that regard, with her robes outlining her curves.
Her blue robes, Jieyuan noted. Or, more precisely, her sapphire robes. The robes worn by core disciples. Junior protectors, as they were also called.
By the woman’s waist was a sheathed fineblade. He couldn’t tell by the shape of the sheathe whether it was a finesword or a finesaber. There were little rubies embedded on both the sheathe and the hilt of the blade.
“Yunzhu,” Meiyao said. Catching an odd note in his teammate’s voice, Jieyuan glanced over at her. For the second time both that day and since he’d known her, he caught a flicker of hesitation cross her face. But it was gone in an instant, leaving Meiyao only looking mildly confused as she strode over to the door. “What are you doing here?”
Yunzhu. Jieyuan recognized the name. He’d called it to his mind just earlier that morning, when he’d been trying to puzzle out Qingshi’s motivations for going after Daojue. Yunzhu. Liangshibai Yunzhu. The daughter of Luoyefen Taishou, head of the Justice Bureau and Qingshi’s master. The woman whom he’d heard that Qingshi was in a relationship with. Jieyuan knew about her. In fact, he’d come across her name long before he’d heard Qingshi’s, despite rumors about her being much scarcer.
Still in his first week as an outer disciple, Jieyuan had looked into who exactly was Liangshibai Wanxin, his sapphire-eyed, white-robed proctor for the last stage of the entrance trial. And when he started asking around about Wanxin, Yunzhu’s name had come up almost immediately. Because Wanxin’s husband was Luoyefen Taishou, and Yunzhu was their daughter. In the process, Jieyuan had also learned just what Wanxin’s sapphire eyes meant, and he’d also found out the significance of the white robes she wore. Meiyao being the daughter of the sect leader gave her a special status in the sect, but Yunzhu being Wanxin’s daughter made Meiyao’s parentage seem almost unremarkable.
Jieyuan followed Meiyao closer to the door, but remained a step behind her, so as not to intrude. Just enough to catch Yunzhu in the edge of his soulsense, her presence registering as that of a fifth-sign redsoul. He studied Yunzhu, who was staring up at Daojue. He could see some resemblance to her mother, and they certainly had the same love for gemstones, but now that he knew who she was, it was her black eyes that he focused on.
The lofty status of Yunzhu’s parents weren’t the only thing special about her. In the entire history of the Liangshibai Clan, she was also said to be the only trueblood Liangshibai to lack the gemstone eyes they were so known far. He’d heard that the Liangshibai could make their eyes look mundane on command, but Yunzhu was supposedly born with black eyes and was unable to make them change any which way.
Looking at Yunzhu’s eyes, though, Jieyuan couldn’t help but feel that something was off about them. They were clearly just black, perfectly mundane, but the look of them sat wrong with him. There was an intensity to them that reminded him of Daojue’s violet eyes, as if Yunzhu’s black eyes were also hiding something, holding it back—like something lurked behind them, and she just barely kept it contained. And the more he looked at them, the stronger that impression got.
Yunzhu said something he didn’t pick up on, and her face broke out into a dazzling smile. What Jieyuan did pick up on was that even as Yunzhu smiled, enchanting as a blood orchid, her eyes remained unchanging, intense and fathomless. Something else he picked up on was that not even once did Yunzhu’s gaze leave Daojue, even though Jieyuan could hear Meiyao talking to her.
If Jieyuan was unnerved by Daojue’s stare earlier, now he was outright disturbed, and Yunzhu didn’t even have her eyes on him.
Jieyuan looked away. Heavens knew he’d just about had his fill of eerie eyes.
