Book 2 Chapter 48

Since they were about to leave the palace, a number of preparations needed to be made.

That was how Mo Jian and Bai Ning found themselves back on the second floor of the palace. The residence was technically still theirs, even though they were no longer in charge of the Incense Forest. Mo Jian had no idea who had replaced him in his former post, and even less desire to find out. He was here simply to close the residence more or less permanently and deactivate the restriction badge. After that, he intended to make another trip to the scripture library to collect the accompanying jade slips for a technique he had recently discovered: The Cauldron of Life. It was a powerful art suited to Nascent Soul cultivators, though it came with one (in)significant requirement (for him): the user needed to possess a cauldron type magic treasure.

Mo Jian had begun studying it some time ago, though his progress had been sporadic due to the limited attention he had been able to devote to it. Upon full mastery, the technique allowed a cultivator to embed a fragment of their ego into a construct of qi nurtured within a cauldron like a womb, creating either a clone or an avatar. Mo Jian had picked it up because clone techniques were notoriously rare and versatile, and even partial mastery would allow him to be in two places at once.

At the same time, he needed to acquire several ingredients for the supplementary Rising Azure Pills he planned to refine: Yin Emitting Valerian Roots and the mucus of a Three Eyed Toad. The pills would enhance the effects of the Azure Soul Pills he had exchanged for with Gu Daisheng during the Nascent Soul gathering. Ordinarily, Mo Jian could have relied on the palace's pill masters to handle such matters for him, especially given Muxue's growing influence. This, however, was both an effort to keep his own skills sharp and a way to limit how much information others possessed regarding his cultivation progress.

Simply put, before leaving the palace, he had several places to visit.

He was not the only one. Bai Ning had been scouring the scripture library from the moment she gained access to it (at the same time he had, following the Tiger Army's victory over the Lion Army) and had also returned with an armful of jade slips. Among them were a rank-six talisman inheritance, a sword manual, two historical records detailing the Empire's past, and a work of fiction depicting a "rising dragon" crushing all "dogs" beneath his heel. Mo Jian had rolled his eyes out of obligation at the last one, fully aware that his own tastes in fiction were scarcely any better (a conclusion he had been forced to accept after discovering that life within the palace bore little resemblance to the palace dramas he had once enjoyed reading).

Bai Ning chose that moment to emerge from the residence and join him in the courtyard. Together, they looked up at the three-story house beneath the false sky. In one hand, she held the black restriction plate that controlled the formations woven throughout the residence. A pulse of qi deactivated them, and she sent the plate drifting back into the now-empty house, leaving them sheltered beneath a single dome of azure qi Mo Jian had conjured.

“I know we only spent a few weeks here, but somehow it still feels more like home than the princess’s rooms.”

Mo Jian nodded. He felt much the same, his gaze turning wistful. “It reminded me of Cloud Veil Ridge, a little,” he admitted. “Alas, even if I knew how to pack up this small domain and take it with us, I am certain someone would take umbrage at my temerity and have me arrested.”

Bai Ning snorted. “A proper cultivator” -her tone was an exact match for the one he used whenever chastising her for some mischief back when she was his student- “would create their own domain instead of contemplating theft. For shame, Fellow Daoist Mo Jian.” The use of his name was also deliberate, carrying precisely the same inflection as the simpering noble lady who had attempted to recruit him into the service of the “Prince of Princes,” Xiang Haoran, two days earlier. Suffice it to say, Mo Jian had needed to ask Muxue who that was. Xiang Haoran turned out to be a third cousin who was both ambitious and remarkably bad at it, which meant most people regarded him as more of a nuisance than a threat.

Mo Jian couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. “A proper cultivator would most definitely try to steal something before making it,” he replied. “Thank the Heavens I am not one.”

Bai Ning didn't dignify that with a response. After a moment, Mo Jian clapped his hands together. “Enough dallying. We both have work to do and preparations to make. We are heading to a war, after all. I take it you'll be spending the day in the True Qi Meditation Chamber, trying your luck?”

Bai Ning nodded, turning to him with a bright smile. “Since it cost so much to reserve one for the day, I don't intend to waste the opportunity. If I can break through to the mid-stage of the Core Formation Realm, it will make things much easier for us in the future.” She was right on both counts. A True Qi Meditation Chamber was a specialized room found on every floor of the palace from the thirteenth onward, each saturated with dense, stable qi. The chambers were in constant demand, as they were invaluable to cultivators of every realm, particularly those attempting breakthroughs. The sheer number of spirit stones required to reserve one for Bai Ning – five thousand high-grade stones – had been enough to make Mo Jian blanch. Wasting even a single second of that time would be a monumental extravagance.

“And after that, we can visit the Kanchi Mine and the city,” Mo Jian said. The trip was long overdue. They should have gone weeks ago, but one matter after another had delayed them. Now it was already late and there was much to do. They needed to check in with everyone, send a message back to the Thousand Shattered Islands (neither he nor Bai Ning had trusted the palace's communication services, both wary of having their words read), coordinate with Duan Cheng regarding the information gathering efforts they had assigned him, and above all...

“Three more days, according to Wei Shentong's estimate,” Bai Ning finished, her mood brightening even further. And why wouldn't it? Her friends were only three days away from the imperial capital. Soon, they would be reunited. Even Mo Jian found himself looking forward to it. Partly because it would be good to see familiar faces again, and partly because he was eager to witness Wei Shentong's expression when he learned everything that had happened in the palace so far.

"Good luck with the breakthrough," Mo Jian said.

Bai Ning grinned. "Good luck avoiding trouble."

On that note they split up. Bai Ning headed for the twenty-first floor and the True Qi Meditation Chamber waiting for her there, while Mo Jian set off toward the Scripture Library. Travelling alone was still a risk, but the assassins who had targeted them had been quiet for some time, and better yet, no one had died; a fact that said rather a lot. For all his political victories, Prince Chengxuan was evidently struggling to find reliable agents. Even the Tiger General had begun to relax after repeated assassination attempts produced nothing but embarrassment. Besides, even if another attempt came, Bai Ning's control over the lotus had only grown stronger, and as for Mo Jian himself, their enemies had yet to dare show themselves before him directly. Neither of them was an easy target, and the assassins, whatever else could be said of them, had had enough time to work that out.

Such were his thoughts as he approached the grand entrance of the Scripture Library and passed through the curtain of light that served as its doorway. The scent of wet stone, rich earth, and growing things greeted him immediately. The library was as magnificent as ever: a vast hollow column of stone stretching so high overhead that its ceiling vanished into darkness. Shelves upon shelves and alcoves upon alcoves lined the walls and filled the immense interior, all climbing toward that unseen summit. Cultivators drifted between them on foot and in flight alike, appearing and disappearing amid the countless aisles. A strange hush pervaded the place. It was not true silence, but something close to it, as though even the cultivators themselves kept their qi muted out of respect for the knowledge surrounding them.

Mo Jian took to the air at once, ascending toward the upper reaches of the library. As he flew, he conjured a small orb of cerulean qi and sent it floating beside his shoulder, a beacon announcing his presence so that some absent-minded scholar would not collide with him in midair. The orb drifted alongside him as he rose through the vast interior. The higher levels were noticeably less crowded. Most visitors remained near the lower shelves, where manuals, histories, and common reference works could be found. The collections housed nearer the top were increasingly specialized, increasingly obscure, and often accessible only to those with sufficient rank, contribution, or spirit stones.

Embarrassingly enough, the palace's system of merit and contributions had largely passed him by. His brief stint as overseer of the Incense Forest had earned nowhere near enough merit to copy most of the jade slips stored here, let alone study them in depth. Fortunately, becoming a member of the Inner Court had automatically granted him access to all the scripture libraries on the lower floors. Not that he had made much use of the privilege. This was the only library he had visited regularly, because he was not searching for some rare inheritance or impossible protagonist-worthy opportunity. What interested him was common knowledge; the sort that everyone acquired naturally while progressing through cultivation. Even the technique that he had found, after all, had turned up entirely by chance.

Mo Jian passed several cultivators engrossed in their studies. One elderly man sat cross-legged atop a narrow scroll tube, surrounded by a dozen open jade slips that revolved slowly around him. Nearby, a woman painstakingly copied a manuscript onto a fresh scroll, her brush moving with such concentration that she failed to notice him pass. His destination emerged from the shadows above: a small alcove with a bronze plaque affixed beneath it that read, “Cauldron of Life.” The alcove itself was sealed behind a barrier of shimmering light, preventing anyone from accessing the jade slip within without the proper authorization.

Mo Jian had already read the slip before. Instead, he leaned closer to examine the plaque. Accompanying texts were sometimes listed alongside a technique's description, and sure enough, beneath the title ran a faint line of smaller script, weathered nearly to illegibility at a distance.

Addendum by Hao Feng and Bai Ren: in alcove 4992, marked Qi Womb Clone Technique.

Mo Jian leaned back, grimacing slightly at the name. Couldn't they have chosen something better? Then again, considering the original technique had cauldron in its name, perhaps this was the improved version.

Regardless, he flew back and began searching for alcove four thousand nine hundred and ninety-two. It took several attempts, darting back and forth before he finally grasped the numbering system. The alcove he needed was two rows lower. As he passed, he caught sight of techniques and jade slips bearing names such as Violet Qi Sensing Inscription, World-Cleaving Sword, and countless others. Alcove 4992 was protected by a shimmering barrier as well, but it parted around his fingers when he reached inside and withdrew the jade slip. A thin chain of qi, each link forged from solid light, tethered the slip to the alcove, ensuring it could not be removed without permission.

Ignoring the restraint, Mo Jian swept his spiritual sense through the jade slip. The contents were exactly as promised. It contained cultivation insights and advice from two cultivators who had mastered the technique, including practical tips, common pitfalls, and various applications. The avatar it created was essentially a perfect duplicate, fully subservient to the original and capable of acting in its stead. Its limitations were straightforward: if destroyed, it had to be recreated from the beginning, requiring the same amount of time and effort as the first attempt. Additionally, it needed to be periodically nourished within the maturing cauldron. The jade slip referred to it as a womb, but Mo Jian refused to indulge that terminology when it came to his Heaven Enshrouding Ding.

In short, it was an exceptionally useful technique, though hardly heaven defying, just as he had expected.

He diligently copied the information into a blank jade slip and stored the copy in his storage pouch. Then he returned the Qi Womb Clone Technique to its alcove and drifted downward. There was one more thing he needed to do on the second floor before he left.

The exchange platform was much as he remembered when he reached it fifteen minutes later. It occupied a colossal hollow threaded with corridors leading up, down, left, right, diagonally, and in every other conceivable direction. Within that vast space floated countless platforms, clouds, stalls, and kiosks, all devoted to selling, bartering, bargaining, or advertising various goods and services. Mo Jian headed straight for the central platform, weaving through the crowd of cultivators and ducking beneath a passing flying crane. At its center stood the pillar inscribed with golden text, and beside that floated a painting.

The moment the figure within caught sight of Mo Jian, it promptly closed its eyes and assumed a meditative posture. Mo Jian came to a halt above the painting, staring at it incredulously while the bustle of the platform continued unabated around him. A cultivator in yellow robes hurried over, slightly out of breath, and immediately folded himself into a deep bow.

“Welcome, Senior. Lord Gwei is currently in the midst of a cultivation cycle, but I can assist you with whatever you require. Please tell me what you need.”

Mo Jian was sorely tempted to point out that he had just watched Gwei hide from him with his own eyes, but he refrained. The man had every right to avoid him if he wished. Besides, as long as this Foundation Establishment junior could help him, it made little difference. “I am looking for Valerian Yin Roots and the mucus of a Three Eyed Toad. I can pay in spirit stones or exchange the scales of a rank seven lava dragon.”

The yellow-robed cultivator bowed again. “Please wait a moment, Senior. We have both materials in our treasury. There is no need to post an exchange request. I will fetch them for you.”

Mo Jian gave a single nod. The cultivator immediately hurried away, summoning a flying boat to speed his journey. On the platform, the painting – and the ink figure within it – continued pretending to meditate.

Mo Jian had to wait for ten minutes, during which he was forced to turn down three enthusiastic vendors pitching talismans, pills, and treasures (though, he did give a tea-making kettle a second look), before the yellow-robed cultivator returned. A storage pouch rested in his hand, which he promptly presented to Mo Jian. As the pouch floated over, the man bowed once more. “If the materials satisfy you, Senior, then we can conclude the transaction using spirit stones.”

The materials did satisfy him. The roots were cold as ice to the touch – exactly as they should be – and the mucus was odious and disgusting (that one he very much did not touch. In fact, he did his best to expunge from memory the knowledge that he would eventually have to consume a pill containing it). Mo Jian tossed a pouch containing the requisite spirit stones over (thanks to Muxue’s patronage, money was not a problem now) and departed, winding his way through the crowds of flying cultivators and floating stalls towards the stairs.

He was nearly there when a voice called out from the side. “Mo Jian, is that you?”

Mo Jian paused and turned to behold – a painting.

It took him a solid second to place it. He had not spoken with most of them very much, but eventually he remembered this one as the painting that had tried to warn Gu Daisheng about the Yuan front when he had first entered the palace.

“Ah, Fellow Daoist Wu, was it not?” It was not an inspired opening, but Mo Jian was quite literally at a loss as to what the painting could possibly want with him.

“Yes, yes.” The embroidered merchant waved the greeting away, threads shifting as he leaned forward. “It really is you. I heard so many rumors, and they were just so difficult to believe.”

Mo Jian smiled politely, already wondering whether he should simply fly away. That was rarely a promising start to a conversation, and he was not in the mood for gossip. “Rumors are the lifeblood of the palace,” he replied with practiced neutrality. Then he gestured toward the stairs. “Though that reminds me that I have somewhere to be. I hate to hurry you, but unless you had a reason for stopping me...?” It was, Mo Jian admitted with an internal wince, not especially polite. Then he wondered why he cared about being polite to a painting and promptly stopped caring.

Either way, Wu seemed entirely unoffended. The merchant blinked, as though remembering something, then snapped his fingers. The sound was oddly muted, like cloth brushing against cloth. “Right. Could you take a message to Gu Daisheng for me? I haven't seen him in a long time, and now that he's on the twenty first floor, I can't reach him easily.”

“Sure,” Mo Jian said after a brief pause. He did not particularly mind. “Though, how did you find me? Isn't your painting on the corridor leading to the outside of the palace?”

Wu raised a stitched eyebrow. “Not really. I spend most of my time around the Flame-Wheeled Carriage Lot or the kitchens. The palace moves us around constantly. Brother Dou – you wouldn't know him – once got stationed near the mortal toilets for an entire month. Utterly unbearable, he said. And-”

“Right,” Mo Jian cut in before he was subjected to the life story of every painting on the second floor. The toilet anecdote was already more than enough. “What is the message?”

“Well,” said the thread man, “since it's you, I can be upfront about it. It's about those assassins; Daisheng asked me to find out more about them, so I reached out to Sister Mei from the Flower Wine Painting, and she talked to one of the stone statues from the Golem Gallery, who knows a messenger crane that delivers notes near the Punishment Hall. The crane spoke with the Wailing-Face Alarm Bells hanging over that corridor, and-” He paused, drawing a dramatic breath. “-they found out someone was talking about the Twin Love Demons like they were still alive.”

The name was delivered in a hushed whisper. Wu glanced around as though making sure nobody was listening. Nobody was – Mo Jian had erected a qi barrier the moment he had stopped.

Mo Jian stared blankly at him. Wu looked back expectantly. Finally, Mo Jian ventured, “When you say assassins, you mean the ones troubling... my friends in the Inner Court?”

Wu nodded emphatically. “Yes, those ones. Didn't you hear what I said? The Twin Love Demons.”

Mo Jian scratched the back of his head. “I have never heard that name before.”

The painting visibly deflated. “Seriously?” he asked. “They were the scourge of the towns along the Eastern Sea for decades. They murdered a magistrate and evaded a kill team sent after them for years. The Censors had to drag them in personally after the Emperor became furious.” He leaned forward, threads rippling all over the cloth painting. “And their killings-” Here he once again checked for eavesdroppers. “-were the stuff of legends. They killed a hundred Core Formation cultivators in a single night. People still call it the Night of Knives. They are extremely dangerous.”

“Right,” Mo Jian said again, carefully withholding his skepticism. “I'll deliver the message, assuming that is the whole thing.”

Wu nodded.

“But I doubt the information is accurate. The assassins after us have been somewhat inept. They're probably not these Twin Love Demons of yours.”

Wu opened his mouth to protest, threads rippling across the painting, but Mo Jian immediately began backing away. “I'll deliver the message,” he promised. “And thank you for looking into it.” Then he turned and fled before Wu could continue.

As he flew up the stairs, passing through the curtain of mist that separated the second floor from the third, he found himself reflecting on how differently people were reacting to the situation. It made sense that Gu Daisheng was using his connections to investigate the assassins, while the Tiger General was more focused on ensuring everyone had adequate protection. As for Mo Jian, he had largely stopped worrying. He had not been lying when he said the assassins were poor at their job – they had yet to kill a single person. Besides, whatever the truth of the matter, the assassins were not his immediate concern.

He had only two days left before Muxue and her entourage (including, of course, himself) left the palace, and before that date, he needed to complete as many of his outstanding tasks as possible. Some of those tasks had been personal, such as this trip to the second floor. Others had been assigned to him, such as eliminating Lu Yang, the overseer of the Beast Arena on the twentieth floor. After so many failed attempts by him to get rid of Chengxuan’s supporters in a row, Bai Ning had finally raised an obvious question to Muxue: why not target their enemies during the day, when they were required to remain at their posts?

Muxue had initially resisted the idea, but eventually necessity won out, leaving her grumbling that “… It won't have the same impact.”

Regardless, Lu Yang was an easy target. The overseer was infamous for forcing normally peaceful spirit beasts to tear one another apart in his arena after being fed berserker pills. Mo Jian was not enough of a hypocrite to claim that killing spirit beasts was inherently wrong, since cultivators hunted them for resources all the time, but there was a clear dividing line between hunting and deliberately inflicting suffering for entertainment. The fact that the arena was technically illegal, and existed solely to amuse a select group of spectators, made it even worse in his eyes. This was another target he would not mind removing, and for Muxue, Lu Yang's death would be a reminder to Chengxuan that getting rid of her would not be so easy.

It was with such thoughts in his mind that he sped onward, heading back toward the twenty first floor. Politics, assassinations, and beyond them all, looming larger with every passing day, the war awaiting him. That world would be very different from the ordered confines of the Imperial Palace, and yet in some ways, far more familiar; closer to how it had been in the Thousand Shattered Islands, where dangers were simpler, if no less deadly, and a cultivator's place was decided by strength rather than intrigue.

Whether that would prove a relief or merely a different kind of trouble remained to be seen.

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AN: Mo Jian, Mo Jian... where did all your genre savviness go...?