Threads 227-Pronouncement 1

Ling Qi peered at Cai Renxiang out of the corner of her eye, remaining silent as they ascended the long stairs that led to the box at the top of the stadium. She was haggard. Cai Renxiang hid it well, but Ling Qi recognized the small differences in her posture and the touch of cosmetics around her eyes. The meeting with her mother had definitely been harsh.

“Is there anything I can assist you with today, Lady Cai?” Ling Qi followed precisely two steps behind Cai Renxiang as they ascended.

“Not today, I think.” Cai Renxiang sounded tired, but the steel determination of someone who knew what they had to do which had been missing was back.

Something had changed.

“I will call on you when I need you, Ling Qi,” Cai Renxiang said, her voice quiet in the privacy of the stairwell. “I think we will have much to talk about on our journey north.”

Ling Qi gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Words that they shouldn’t speak, even here at the Sect? That was… worrying. “I am with you,” Ling Qi said. “And soon, Gan Guangli will be too.”

“Yes,” Cai Renxiang agreed. “Understand, Ling Qi, that I require some time in cultivation before I may speak clearly.”

“Of course, Lady Cai.”

Not entirely a matter of danger then, but also one of processing. Well, she could wait. There was certainly enough on her plate for the moment.

She would just be glad that Cai Renxiang had found that part of herself again because today, they were sharing a box with the Duchess, not the Bai.

She could already feel the pressure growing on her shoulders.

All too soon, they emerged into the brilliantly lit interior of the spectators’ balcony that sat above all the rest. The presence of the Duchess nearly overwhelmed all others. She was seated with one leg crossed over the other, as languid in the stadium seat as she had ever been on her throne. She wore an ornate and formal gown of white and gold worked through with imagery of blooming flowers. Only the near hip-length slit in all three layers of the gown showed the Duchess’ unusual fashion sense.

Seated beside her was Diao Linqin, who was arms crossed and expressionless. Her gown was pale rose pink with deeper reds in the underlayer and hems, and her honey brown hair was drawn up and woven between ornate jade ornaments. Her eyes flicked to the two of them, and Ling Qi felt the older woman’s dislike wash over them. It was not powerful, merely a frisson in the air like bramble thorns scraping against one’s skin.

The last one, sitting two rows in front of these women, was Diao Luwen. Eyes blank and staring ahead with numbers and characters dancing in them like motes of starlight, the man looked intensely disinterested. He wore a plain green robe.

It struck Ling Qi then, looking upon these people, how truly empty the word “family” must be in Cai Renxiang’s eyes.

“Renxiang, my daughter, it is unlike you to press the edge of lateness.” An indulgent smile played about Cai Shenhua’s lips.

“I must apologize, Honored Mother. I spent much time contemplating the insights you deigned to share with this unworthy daughter.” Cai Renxiang offered a stiff but precise bow.

The Duchess seemed terribly amused. Diao Linqin’s expression was studiously blank.

“So diligent.” Cai Shenhua chuckled. “Take your seat, dear. Your soldier’s match is about to begin.”

Cai Renxiang straightened up and nodded, taking a seat beside her father. He didn’t even glance at her.

Ling Qi sat beside her, trying not to sweat under the terrible radiance that burned on the back of her neck like a high summer sun. She caught Cai Renxiang drumming her fingers on the armrest of her seat, a sure sign of agitation in the stoic girl.

Ling Qi sank into her seat. This was awful. Doing her best to take her mind from the discomfort, she instead focused down on the arena where Gan Guangli and Lu Feng were now facing off.

The arena shimmered with familiar light, and the two combatants disappeared, consumed by an expanding cloud of dark green. In moments, it resolved itself into a deep and dense woodland scene. Old growth trees towered some thirty or forty meters overhead with trunks as wide as small houses. Between them were smaller trees, also towering high. Weeds, brambles, and brush choked the leaf strewn ground, and a thick canopy of leaves overhead allowed only tiny shafts of sunlight through to dapple the browns, greens, and pale yellows of the undergrowth. Between a native of the Emerald Seas and one of the jungles of the West, Ling Qi supposed that this was the closest to neutral ground the Sect could offer.

She spied Lu Feng for but a moment, a flash of silky black hair and red silk vanishing into the shadowed canopy. Meanwhile, Gan Guangli had appeared in a small clearing atop a wide flat stone that blocked the growth of the trees. He stood briefly in the sun, his expression grim as he clapped his hands once in a gesture like a prayer and began to walk into the darkening wood.

With each footfall, Ling Qi felt an echo of qi resonating out through stone, earth, and root, and slowly, a faint golden glow began to crawl along the joints of his armor, casting the dark forest floor in vibrant light.

“How much has this one changed, I wonder? “ The Duchess’ voice cut through Ling Qi’s attention, pressing down on her skull despite the fact that the words were not directed at her.

She pulled her attention back, just a little, to listen to her liege’s reply.

“Gan Guangli did not require much change. He only needed to step from my shadow. That is not his role.”

“Hoh! You say that like it is a small thing, daughter.”

Below, a tree twisted, bark warping into a screaming demonic maw. Root and branch lashed out. Gan Guangli let out a bellow and his metal clad palm shattered a trunk to sawdust. Ling Qi saw a creeper vine curl around his ankle. He twisted his leg and ripped it free. A falling trunk writhed with renewed life, toxic qi coursing through a hundred rings as it detonated into a vile purple cloud. Just barely, Ling Qi could see where threads, uncountable in number, gleamed among the wood.

Gan Guangli’s chest inflated in the moment before the toxin was upon him and his hands came together in time with a great shout. A shockwave erupted, blowing away poison, vines, and trees alike. Ling Qi heard the faint snapping of threads.

“Lu Feng!” Gan Guangli demanded, his voice made metallic by the golden faceplate of the helm he now wore. “Know that I cannot be worn down by such petty tricks!”

Ling Qi smiled faintly at the theatrical shout, sensing the tingling qi in the air that bounced from trunk to trunk, just the same as the vibrations of his massive footfalls. It looked like Gan Guangli had found a way to weaponize his own loud nature. She was glad for him.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

There was a faint whine in the air, and Gan Guangli spun round, raising his palm to catch a blur in the palm of his hand. Then another came, and another and another. Thunder cracked in each projectile’s wake, a fusillade of hundreds of what she saw to be pale green thorns. Their direction forced Gan Guangli to shift and turn as he took a close stance, his hands lashing out in metallic blurs as he bashed them all aside.

Gan Guangli’s head brushed the lowest branches, and then pushed through. His light grew with him as he came to tower higher and higher. Three meters, then four, then five, until the thorns bounced from his armor like falling leaves, and he slammed his palms downward, joined by two additional golden hands that shattered smaller trees like matchsticks and send out a rumbling shockwave that ripped up the earth for over a hundred meters in the direction of the thorns.