17. I Survived a Mutiny and All I Got Was This Lousy Jade Pendant

That afternoon, Feng is gone.

I walk past the disciples’ quarters and see it for myself—his area empty, his meager possessions vanished. The thin mattress rolled up. The single shelf cleared. The small wooden chest that held his entire life for twelve years, gone.

I tell the disciples he left to seek opportunities elsewhere. It’s a common enough occurrence in minor sects, this slow attrition of hope. Disciples who realize they’ll never advance, never break through, never become anything more than what they are. They leave to find better teachers, better sects, better luck. Most are never heard from again. It isn’t the first occurrence. It happened throughout the years, in my generation and theirs. I was the only one left from my generation.

Disciples who gave up and moved on. Disciples who faded into obscurity. Disciples who, like Feng, let bitterness consume them until there was nothing left but the leaving. They accept it with varying degrees of surprise and indifference.

Mei Lin looks troubled but says nothing. She was always kind to Feng, always patient with his moods. Maybe she saw something the rest of us missed. Maybe she hoped, like I once did, that he would find his way. Wei Chen shrugs, already distracted by something else. Feng was never his friend, never his mentor. Just another senior disciple who occasionally corrected his forms. The others barely notice. A few murmur vague regrets. Most just go about their day. In a week, they’ll barely remember he was here. I retreat to my quarters as the sun begins to set.

Ling’er comes to my quarters as darkness falls.

I’m sitting at my desk, staring at nothing. The candle isn’t lit. The manual isn’t open. I’m just… sitting.

Thinking.

Feng is gone because of me. His choices were his own, his bitterness his own… but I failed him. That’s the truth I can’t escape.

Perhaps I could have prevented this. Perhaps, if I’d used the Nascent Soul’s treasures earlier, given him a pill, any pill, just to show I cared. Perhaps, if I’d been more open about the changes, let him in on the secret, trusted him with the truth. Perhaps, if I’d seen the rot sooner, addressed it sooner, reached out sooner—

‘Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.’

The word circles in my mind like a vulture, picking at the same wound. I knew he was struggling. I knew he was bitter. I had the Gaze. I could see exactly how close he was to breaking. And I did nothing. I focused on Ling’er, on the future, on the shining star that demanded all my attention. And Feng, the angry boy I’d raised for twelve years, withered in her shadow.

That’s on me.

She stands in the doorway, uncertain. Her small form is silhouetted against the faint light from outside, her face hidden in shadow.

“Sect Leader?”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinks, stepping inside. “For what?”

“For making you do that.” My voice is rough. “For making you carry that burden. You’re twelve years old. You shouldn’t have to—shouldn’t have to stop someone from killing me. Shouldn’t have to see that side of people. Shouldn’t have to—”

“Sect Leader.” She moves closer, until she’s standing before my desk. Her eyes are serious, older than her years. “You don’t need to apologize.”

I look at her.

“You gave me so much. Food. Training. A future. A name written on paper so I could see who I am.” She touches her chest, where the jade pendant hangs beneath her robes. “I stopped him because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t watch someone hurt you.”

She pauses, choosing her words carefully.

“It was my decision. My choice. You didn’t force me into anything. I saw him follow you. I chose to follow too. I saw him draw his sword. I chose to move.” Her voice firms. “I would make that choice again. Every time.”

I look at her. Really look.

“You’re not angry?”

A small smile crosses her face.

“I’m glad I could help.”

She pauses, her expression shifting.

“He was wrong, what he tried to do. But he was also sad. I could feel it.” She touches her chest again. “The bone showed me. Like threads, but… feelings. His were all tangled and dark.”

The Sacred Cosmic Bone. Reading emotions like she reads techniques. Like she reads the world.

“Can you read me too?”

She hesitates, studying me with those too-sharp eyes. “A little. You’re sad. Guilty. But also… determined? Like you’re carrying something heavy and you won’t put it down. Like it’s yours to carry, even if it’s too heavy.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“That’s accurate.”

She smiles. “I’m glad you’re my sect leader.”

I don’t know what to say to that. The words stick in my throat, too big to speak, too important to dismiss. So I just nod.

After a long moment, I straightened in my chair. The weight is still there: Feng’s absence, my failure, the choice I made… but it’s settled now.

Part of me, not all of me.