Chapter 145: Divine Authority

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Age has not taken much from their father. Unlike Elder Xun, whose hair has long since lost the battle against whiteness, their father’s hair retains its red color. Normally, it would be tied in a topknot, but now it flows freely all the way to his shoulders. His skin only shows the barest presence of age lines amidst unblemished jade.

His golden eyes freeze them in place.

“Are you children?”

The words are spoken softly and without any shred of Qi in them. In the utter stillness created by their father’s sudden appearance, they find no trouble reaching the two of them. Not even a stray gust of wind dares disturb their path.

“I ask because yet again I find myself mediating your fights as if you were mere whelps who have not seen more than ten springs. I thought times like these were long past. Clearly, I misjudged your maturity.”

Both brothers flinch, and not just because of what their father is saying. Something else is at play. A power foreign even to Emperors such as themselves, yet paradoxically familiar. Every word that comes out of their father’s mouth has authority to it. His voice leaves behind an odd echo as if reality itself were vacillating, unsure whether it should take their father’s words as fact.

Has he finally stabilized?

“Follow me,” their father says. Space shifts around them, and they let it. The scenery around them is replaced by the inside of the main house. Despite their short but intense battle, the main house remains unblemished. Just as they knew it would be. Their father’s presence within the building always guaranteed not even a single stone would be moved out of place.

Their father has transported them to his meditation chamber, a luxuriously decorated red room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the furniture, the flames that illuminate the room, and even the smoke from the incense. No color other than red is allowed in this room. Even the robes his father wears right now are pure red without any patterns or embroidery.

It may help their father center himself, but Feng Gui has always thought it was a little too much, an opinion he has often voiced in the past.

Feng Shang has never said anything about it, but what else can be expected of his dull older brother?

“I cannot fault you for your aggressiveness,” their father says. His voice fills the room and leaves no room for anyone else. “Nor can I be angry about your willingness to kill in service of your goals. Usually, I’d find myself approving of such behavior. Perhaps even proud. Goals cannot be accomplished by those without resolve. It is not enough to be powerful. One must be willing to do anything to force their will upon the world. Else power is worthless.”

Power is worthless without the will to act. How many times did he tell them that when they were children?

Has he ever stopped trying to teach them that?

“I had no problems with your failure to win the Crimson Cloud Tournament,” their father tells Feng Shang. “Even ten lost tournaments would be a small matter. Similarly, the Internal Force’s recklessness and even potentially angering my dear, old friend are not matters I take issue with.”

His gaze then shifts over to Feng Gui. “Nor did I mind that your takeover of the Medical Pavilion and subsequent denial of supplies to the capital caused the loss of some disciples. Those truly talented would have survived regardless, and they would have won regardless. That is what it means to oppose Heaven’s Will. Similarly, the Apothecary’s recent hoarding of supplies or the Exploration Division’s more discrete actions are no big matter.”

Feng Gui’s throat is suddenly dry.

Their father’s Shadow could not have possibly gathered that information while he was deep in meditation. Someone has been reporting to him. Elder Xun most likely, but that means the old man has paid far more attention to the affairs of the Eternal Flame Clan than anyone gave him credit for.

Old books should just gather dust on the high shelf.

“Lie. Betray. Cheat. Recklessly. Methodically. Relentlessly. Accept nothing but ultimate victory.”

His father’s golden eyes narrow.

“However, I would have liked to think you knew such things are not acceptable between family.”

He does not yell, yet the strength of his anger is such that the brothers find their heads turned to the side as if they had just been slapped.

“Father!” Feng Shang dares to step forward. “I did not-”

Another invisible slap to the face silences him.

“Will you claim you did not mean to kill your nephew? That makes you either foolish enough to try to lie to me or so incompetent you were unable to control a mere whelp of less than four hundred years! Which one is it?”

Feng Shang lowers his head.

“I am sorry, father.”

Were he three hundred years younger, Feng Gui might have winced. That was not the answer their father wanted.

“I did not ask for your apologies, son,” their father says slowly and with thinning patience. The fine hairs on Feng Gui’s arm bristle as the odd feeling in the room intensifies. “I asked you for an answer. Foolish or incompetent. Which do you declare yourselves to be?”

Danger looms around them like a pack of hungry wolves.

No.

Perhaps they are inside the wolf’s mouth already.

“…I was foolish, father.”

Feng Shang says it with such poise, such grace, that Feng Gui cannot help but envy him a little. There is barely any hesitation in his older brother’s voice. A normal person would not have even noticed it. His eyes do not waver. His stance is perfect in its deference. His head not held too high, yet his back not showing any excessive submissiveness.

Even though they are Emperors who can control their blood and flesh as they please, Feng Shang has always been better at it than him.

“No.”

A single word from their father’s mouth makes Feng Shang’s answer suddenly seem grossly inadequate. Unfit.

“You were foolish and incompetent.”

The declaration causes Feng Gui to give his brother a closer look.

Not his face. Not his body. Not even his Qi. Feng Shang does not betray his inner feelings in the slightest. Had he really not known about the attack on Feng Hao? Could he be having trouble controlling the Elders under him? If so, perhaps he shouldn’t have attacked him so fiercely, not that Feng Gui regrets it in the slightest.

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Anything that exposes his brother’s incompetence is good for him.

“Then there is you.”

Their father turns his gaze towards him. Unlike his brother, Feng Gui refuses to back down.

“I only acted as was proper.”

“You have been content to watch your brother grow reckless because you trusted I would stop him and hand you the leadership of the Eternal Flame Clan when he had shamed himself enough. Why did you fail to do so this time?” His father pauses for a moment. Perhaps to give him a chance to answer. Perhaps to underscore his point with the silence that followed.

Regardless, when he continues, it is with renewed energy and renewed anger.

“You stopped believing I cared. You believed your petty games would incite me to act yet failed to believe I would do so when my grandson was at risk? You dared to doubt me?”

The ensuing slap echoes across the room and leaves Feng Gui’s cheek stinging. However, it is nothing compared to what he feels at the unfairness of it all. His father is not angry at him for anything he did in pursuit of the Eternal Flame Clan.

His only crime is not trusting his father at the very end.

For his father, that one moment of so-called weakness is all that matters.

“I thought the time when I had to come up with punishments for you was long gone, yet here we find ourselves.” Their father summons a seat. His children are left to stand. The mention of punishment has them both on alert. “I had hoped you would have settled who will become Patriarch among yourselves. My brother and I did not have nearly as much trouble. He had no taste for leadership and gladly stepped aside.”