AN: This chapter is brought to you at C’s request (to see more of Nui Feng), and in response to some readers’ curiosity about reactions to Mo Jian facing Old Devil Fu. I’ve taken some liberties with the direction of the story, but it should still be enjoyable.
You’ll also get a glimpse of what the Song clan was up to around the same time (indirectly), and a deeper look at why Mo Jian targeted Huan the way he did, beyond the obvious. Enjoy!!
...................................................................................
Across the surface of the Future Sight Mirror, a dozen swirling images merged and collapsed into a blur of impossible colors and sounds, the attempt once again dissolving into nothingness.
Nui Feng, standing close to the mirror, grimaced at the backlash as the qi invested into it flared and ran rampant, the ache of it settling deep into her bones.
Fan Mei, face thunderous, sprang up from where she had been crouching before the mirror and, with one hand, slapped it aside. The mirror struck the wall with a sharp crack, then tumbled face-down to the floor. "Useless piece of-"
Nui Feng took no offense, though she stood on the verge of it. Sister Fan Mei was under enormous strain, and some lapses could be forgiven, even if she disliked the treatment of her natal artifact. The situation was, after all, about as dire as it could possibly get, and Fan Mei had no options left. Ancestor Qing had refused to intervene, even as rumors swirled around his inaction, and worse, he had forbidden anyone connected to him from acting either.
Nui Feng could circumvent that prohibition because, for all her closeness to the Qing household, she was not a part of it. It was a fact she had never been so grateful for. Fan Mei, on the other hand, was most definitely a part of it. Moreover, it had been her repeated entreaties for Ancestor Qing to do something, anything, that had driven him to issue his proclamation in the first place. Zetian, that poisonous woman, had almost certainly whispered into his ears and made it worse.
Fan Mei was still breathing hard. She forcibly calmed herself, drawing a sharp breath and letting it whoosh out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, a fragile measure of composure had settled over her that had not been there before. "My apologies, Sister Nui Feng. I did not mean that. Your help and support have been invaluable."
Nui Feng inclined her head, saying without words that it was water under the bridge. She had worked alongside Fan Mei often enough that the two of them were as close as friends could be without being family, and such things were easily forgiven between people like that. Besides, she felt a degree of responsibility for the situation herself. She was the greatest diviner in the Thousand Shattered Islands, and she had not seen so much as a whisper of the terrible events that had unfolded only days past. If only she had seen something-
She let the thought arrive and depart. It was not the first time it had visited her, and it would not be the last. She often bemoaned the limits of her powers, the conditions her natal artifact imposed on her divinations, and equally often bemoaned the fact that it never seemed to help her when she needed it most. She had named it the Future Sight Mirror, evoking that legendary treasure from the old stories; the one said to see the future with perfect clarity for ten thousand years, and yet her own attempts were not even a pale shadow of it. Some days, it felt as though her natal artifact was working against her, though she knew that was only her frustration speaking.
She looked at Fan Mei, who was pacing the room with the tight, restrained movements of a caged tiger, and knew that any words of caution or prudence would be ignored. Fan Mei was on the verge of lashing out, and she needed to act. The only problem was that neither of them had any idea what to do. Even setting aside the question of defying Ancestor Qing's wishes, they needed a starting point.
But the Future Sight Mirror had failed to yield even the slightest clue about the whereabouts of either Mo Jian or Bai Ning. In a way, that was a blessing. That they were alive and out there somewhere was undeniable, and the fact that Nui Feng could not locate hide or hair of them meant that, hopefully, neither could most anyone else. It would keep them safe, though given that it was the Old Devil on their trail, "safe" was doing a great deal of heavy lifting.
"What of the sect?" Nui Feng tried, marshaling her thoughts toward something useful. "The Greater Dharma Sect, was it not? We could at least try to secure their safety."
Fan Mei shook her head immediately, looking even more displeased at the reminder. "I already tried. The sect leaders appear to have vanished, and the only response I received was that the sect has been disbanded. I can only hope they managed to flee and are in hiding somewhere, rather than having been captured."
Nui Feng paused at that, not having known it before. Perhaps she could use the Mirror to find out for certain, and Fan Mei could act to help the sect if it was in danger. It would anger Ancestor Qing, but it would be a forgivable anger, not the kind that inspired him to kill anyone. But before she could try to steer her friend toward that path-
"What we need," Fan Mei began, speaking slowly, as though she were assembling her thoughts even as she gave them voice, "is to draw away some attention from the current crisis. If something arose that could occupy the Old Devil's attention, then perhaps Brother Mo and Bai Ning could escape fully. We just need to find a way-"
"It isn't possible," Nui Feng cut in sharply, before Fan Mei could convince herself of the idea and get them both killed. "You know it isn't. Mo Jian killed Fu Zhan, and that alone is an offense there is no returning from, but added to that, he stole the gui and fled. You know there is nothing anyone could do to divert Old Devil Fu from that. Only a full-scale invasion of the Thousand Shattered Islands by the mainland houses might work, and if either of us had the ability to orchestrate that, we would not be in this predicament in the first place."
Fan Mei looked unwilling to hear it, her scowl deepening, but Nui Feng pressed on, ruthless. "And even if by some miracle we did manage to divert his attention… toward what? And how do we survive it? By some intervention of the Thunder Agency, Mo Jian managed it. But I am not him, and neither are you. This is not a plan, sister. This is grasping at straws."
Fan Mei's teeth clenched so tightly that Nui Feng feared she would crack them, but she said nothing, recognizing the truth for what it was. Nui Feng nearly released a sigh of relief. She could not truly say why Fan Mei was so desperate to help, but she had her suspicions. And if those suspicions held any truth, she would never voice them aloud.
The truth was that the two of them were Core Formation cultivators. Powerful ones, at the peak of their realm, certainly, but still nothing compared to a Nascent Soul cultivator. That was a gap that no amount of cleverness, boldness, or planning could bridge. Fan Mei knew that too, for all her anger.
And yet, somehow, Mo Jian had crossed it. Which was itself another thought entirely.
Nui Feng did not know what to make of it. She had witnessed fragments of the fight where Mo Jian had clashed with Old Devil Fu, and even now, the memory of it left her reeling: shocked, awed, and unsettled. It should not have been possible. It should not have been real.
Yet it was.
She had felt the force of the blows Old Devil Fu had unleashed upon him, even through the Future Sight Mirror, and the little she had managed to glimpse had left her certain she would have died simply by stepping onto that battlefield. Even now, she shivered remembering the Hell Reflecting Mirror crashing down upon the world like the moon falling to the earth. Her eyes had bled just from the sight of it, and somehow, Mo Jian had met it head on and deflected it. She recalled his figure, the skies and seas twisting around him as the Heaven Enshrouding Ding struck with the force of a descending deity, forcing back the hell that sought to swallow the world.
He had been an utterly unremarkable cultivator the first time she met him. That meeting she had agreed to solely on Fan Mei's recommendation, because her friend had vouched for him. Her first impression had not been flattering: he had been rude, scowling, and deeply distrustful. He had met her eyes, turned red to the tips of his ears, and then spent the next thirty minutes doing his utmost to pretend it had not happened. That part had been a little amusing, she would admit, if only because she hadn't entirely disliked the fact that he found her beautiful. After all, which woman didn't appreciate knowing as much?
Still, she had not come away from that meeting with any strong impression, and Fan Mei had later told her that Mo Jian had apparently not been impressed either. In fact, he had complained loudly and at considerable length about her fee, and declared her a scammer. Fan Mei had been delighted, finding the whole thing hilarious. Nui Feng had rolled her eyes and found both of them equally exasperating.
Then she had met him again, years later, at the tournament. She had heard of him in the interim, primarily through Fan Mei, who had brought him up unexpectedly about five years ago, mentioning that he had taken on a student and was looking for guidance on that front. After that, Fan Mei had mentioned him more and more frequently, with a warmth in her voice that had sent Nui Feng's eyebrows climbing steadily toward her hairline. Slowly, almost against her will, she had grown curious too.
So, in a way, she had been looking forward to that meeting on the Cloud Ring. She had not been disappointed. Mo Jian had mellowed. He had been smiling and friendly, still calling her a scammer, but doing so with the easy teasing of someone who harbored a perfectly obvious and harmless crush on her. It had been, in its way, rather endearing. And his student, Bai Ning, had been a genuine pleasure. She had not had such lively conversations about the Future Sight Mirror in a long time. The girl was sharp as a tack, and mischievous enough to immediately begin thinking of petty applications for it with unconcealed glee. Truly, a disciple with an entirely proper attitude.
The days that followed had borne that out. Both Mo Jian and Bai Ning had been warm, gregarious, and, as she had taken pains to verify, entirely free of hidden motives. Nui Feng had learned something of their circumstances from Fan Mei, and had understood what they were risking by entering the tournament, and what they hoped to gain. Without telling them, she had quietly used her influence with the betting halls – who were always eager to use her name to lend themselves an air of credibility and hook in credulous cultivators – to downplay Bai Ning as much as possible.
It had worked precisely until the girl secured a place in the third round, after which there was simply no hiding it from the world. But that had been fine. Watching Mo Jian's actions, witnessing Bai Ning's resolve, seeing Fan Mei's quiet happiness, Nui Feng had felt, with a certainty she rarely permitted herself, that things would be fine. Even after Fahai Sattavadeva's defeat and the shadow of gloom that had settled over the Qing household, she had held onto that feeling. True, her attempts to discern the tournament's winner had failed, and her attempts to glimpse how the final confrontation would unfold had come to nothing, but she had hoped.
And now, here they were. Everything she had hoped for had come to pass, but in such a fashion that it might have been better had none of it come true at all.
Fan Mei's voice shook her free of her thoughts. While Nui Feng had been lost in reflection, Fan Mei had continued pacing, and now, from the set of her jaw, it seemed she had arrived at something.
"I should never have become his concubine in the first place. I would have had the freedom to act, otherwise."
Not a decision. A grievance, long suppressed. But still-
Nui Feng looked around sharply, even knowing the room was warded, and hissed. "Do not say such things so carelessly. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
Fan Mei made no apology, her face set, and then, all at once, she deflated. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, and whatever force had been holding her upright seemed to abandon her entirely. The hurt and the worry she had been carrying for so long finally broke through to the surface. "I…" She slumped further, looking hollowed out. "I wasn't blaming you, Sister Feng." She looked up, trying for a smile, and only managing something that lay halfway between gratitude and exhaustion.
Nui Feng waved it off without a word. As long as Fan Mei understood, and was careful. As for the matter of blame… in some ways, it could honestly be laid at her feet.
She had first met Fan Mei back when the other woman had been at the mid-stage of Core Formation, looking for help in evading several unsavory cultivators who had taken an unwanted interest in her. Friendship had grown from circumstance, but it had been Nui Feng who had steered her friend toward Ancestor Qing. It had seemed, at the time, like the ideal solution: Fan Mei would gain the protection she needed, and Ancestor Qing would gain a capable, skilled, and clear-headed cultivator working on his behalf. It was not an unreasonable arrangement. She knew that several members of his harem had come to it under similar circumstances.
So she had consulted the Mirror, seen what she could of the future, and judged it favorable. She had arranged the first meeting between Ancestor Qing and Fan Mei, navigating carefully around Zetian, and had succeeded. Fan Mei had confided in her afterward that the meeting had begun disastrously: everything she had prepared had failed to earn so much as a flicker of approval. Her tea ceremony training? He had said he cared little for tea ceremonies. The poem she had composed and performed on her guzheng? He had called it "passable."
It had only been when Fan Mei's patience snapped, when she had abandoned the polished mask entirely and simply asked him, with barely concealed irritation, what he actually liked, that he had finally taken notice. That first meeting had led to a second, then a third, and by the time it was done, Fan Mei had joined his harem as a formal concubine. The relationship had remained strictly non-intimate, as Nui Feng knew well, but it had given Fan Mei the shelter and the backing she needed to establish herself firmly in the Thousand Shattered Islands, and to rise to the final stage of Core Formation.
For close to three decades, it had been a profitable arrangement, and Fan Mei had never once complained of what it cost her. But now, forced to stand idle while the people she cared for were in danger, she was beginning to resent it, beginning to wish she had never started it. Nui Feng understood, in her bones, why Fan Mei felt that way. But she could not let her friend say it aloud. If the words reached Ancestor Qing's ears-
She cast about for something useful. Something concrete.
At last, one thing surfaced. "What if we reach out to the Song clan?" she asked. She had no personal desire to entangle herself with a power the whole of the Thousand Shattered Islands could not stand against, but necessity was a demanding mistress.
Fan Mei, who had looked up with a spark of hope, let it go just as quickly. "Song Shaoyue was one of the architects of the current situation. She would take pleasure in our despair rather than lift a finger to help."
"Not that waste of human flesh," Nui Feng said, almost offended that Fan Mei would assume she meant that. "I mean the actual elders of the clan. They haven't left yet, have they? It's one of the reasons Ancestor Qing is being so passive right now. So, what if we reached out and spoke to them directly?" In truth, it was still a terrible plan. Even if the elders agreed to help – for entirely self-interested reasons, she was sure – it would entangle both her and Fan Mei with people who believed that anything in the world could be bought and sold. There would be a steep price to pay.
Fan Mei, still sitting, looked up again, disbelief and careful consideration warring across her face. "That… they might be willing to intervene. Right now, their soul oaths still prevent them from acting, since the tournament was settled in Old Devil Fu's favor. But he does not have the gui. And if we offered it to them…" She paused, working through it. "It might work. It would make enemies of the entire Islands, but it could just work." Her voice was gaining strength as she spoke, as though something in her were coming back to life now that there was a plan to hold.
Nui Feng allowed herself a small smile. "I expect it will be a hundred times more complicated than that. But why let that stop us? As for making enemies of everyone here-" she shrugged, "-I have always wondered what the mainland was like. It seems I'll find out sooner than expected."
Fan Mei rose to her feet, some of her old energy returning. "Then we shouldn't waste a moment. We'll have to be careful… if anyone catches wind of what we're doing, we'll be in very serious danger. But-"
"But," Nui Feng continued smoothly, "I can move far more freely than you can. I'll try to arrange a meeting. You'll have to take the lead when it happens, since you have the name and the connections to make them at least hear us out."
Fan Mei nodded. "Good. If they swear an oath to see Brother Mo, Junior Bai Ning, ourselves, and anyone else in our circle who might face danger because of this to safety, then giving them the gui is no hardship at all." Her lips pursed briefly, as though tasting something sour. "As for my husband, I doubt it would ever occur to him that anyone might dare to move against him from within his own walls. Leave that to me. I'll claim I've seen sense and go to him with an apology. He'll accept it."
Nui Feng felt uneasily that the plan was coming together too quickly, but she held her tongue. It was better than the hopelessness of an hour ago.
Fan Mei took her by the hand and drew her toward the door, speaking as she moved. "Alright. Do your best to arrange a meeting, and I'll-"
The door swung open.
On the other side stood a figure draped entirely in black, their silhouette strange; broad across the shoulders in a way that suggested a man, but with a shape beneath that robe, that left the question open. They said nothing. One hand held a dagger, which they were spinning idly between their fingers, the blade catching the light with each slow rotation.
Fan Mei's words died in her mouth. Nui Feng froze, fear shooting cold and immediate down her spine.
The figure in black regarded them both without expression, without urgency, and without any apparent concern for the conversation they had just heard. Then, very slowly, they raised one hand, and wagged a single finger at the two of them, the gesture almost playful.
No.
The figure reached out, gripped the edge of the door, and drew it gently shut between them.
The latch clicked softly into place.
The two of them stood without moving, without speaking, the silence in the room ringing like struck iron. On the other side of the door, Huang resumed their vigil, keeping watch over Fan Mei as per Ancestor Qing's standing orders. The Dagger of Braided Death continued its idle spin between their fingers, patient as the turning of seasons.