Yang stood outside next to Senior Brother Xiao Zhan, watching the stream of arriving guests slow as the time for the ceremony approached.
“Nervous, Junior Brother?”
“A bit.” Yang sheepishly admitted.
He had arrived a few minutes ago, flown here by Senior Brother Xiao Zhan under an invisibility technique which was still active, preventing anyone from knowing that Yang was standing right in front of the main gates a few paces away.
And with the gates left open for the guests, it gave Yang a chance to peek inside his Master’s hall, which seemed packed with people.
He didn't know how it was possible, but there seemed to be even more people present than there were at the alchemy events.
“I just didn't expect Master to invite so many people,” Yang said.
“They are not all Master’s guests,” Senior Brother Xiao Zhan said with a smile. “Each of us, your Senior Brothers, were also given leave to invite whomever we wished.” He got a rueful expression on his face. “I am afraid Zhen Hao took full advantage of the situation, especially since none of the expenses were coming out of his own pockets. Without his efforts, the guest list would have been almost a quarter of it.”
Senior Brother continued with a smile. "This is an important occasion for our peak, Junior Brother. The last time Soaring Cloud Peak will ever see a core disciple being accepted. Even if any of us were to take on disciples of our own someday, it would not be to this scale, and the guests would not be as prominent. Master is the peak master of this peak. In a sense, he is the Soaring Cloud Peak himself." He gave Yang a kind look. "As for anything else, do not worry. Just follow the instructions I gave you, and you will be fine."
Of course, what remained unsaid was that one day Senior Brother Xiao Zhan himself would be the peak master of the Soaring Cloud Peak, though even then the chances of a core disciple ceremony remained dubious considering how high up on the cultivation realm he already was without ever taking in a disciple.
He reached into his sleeve and passed Yang a small, rough-textured round object, the size of a pearl. It was grey, very light, and fit easily between his fingers. "Keep this with you. It will dissolve when it is time for you to enter."
Yang closed his hand around it and nodded.
Senior Brother Xiao Zhan dispelled the invisibility technique from himself and walked calmly inside Master's cave.
Yang stood alone outside in the evening air and waited, watching the last of the sunset light settle over the peak.
It occurred to him, standing here, how different the inner sect's relationship with time was from the outer sect's. In the outer sect, the rhythms of day and night had mostly still held, meals at familiar hours, sleep following dark. The inner sect cultivators he had come to know operated on no such schedule. Dinner and lunch were words used interchangeably and largely meaninglessly. Breakfast was whenever you woke up. Day and night were a visual distinction, nothing more. They ate when they chose, slept when they felt the need, and cultivated for however long their body and mind would sustain it.
This explained, among other things, why Senior Brother Zhen Hao's banquet had been held at what was breakfast time.
His thoughts were still drifting when he felt the bead in his hand dissolve into a dust so fine that it dispersed in the air like smoke.
He straightened, moved to stand in front of the entrance, took a slow breath, and stepped inside.
He kept his eyes ahead and his head level, and walked with what he hoped were even, confident strides toward the far end of the hall.
The space was not as oppressively packed as he had feared from the outside, not because fewer people had come than he had first assumed, but because the hall seemed to be approximately ten times its usual size.
Master was seated at the head, with the Sect Master beside him and several other elders arranged nearby. His Senior Brothers stood behind Master in a line, formally positioned, with Senior Brother Xiao Zhan the only one given a seat, placed one level below Master's own.
If yesterday's gathering here had made the hall feel like a family's drawing room with its ease and noise, then today it felt like an imperial court. Every face held a formal expression. The hall was almost entirely silent except for the sound of Yang's footsteps.
He reached Master and performed everything exactly as Senior Brother Xiao Zhan had instructed him.
He dropped to his knees. He brought both hands together at chest height, cupped, and gave a formal bow. He then lowered his hands to either side of his head as he bent forward until his forehead touched the ground.
The first kowtow.
The second.
The third.
He rose, bowed for the second time, and repeated three kowtows.
He straightened and bowed once more, then repeated the three kowtows, completing the third full set.
Three bows. Nine kowtows in total.
That's all it took to bind two people irrevocably together under the heavens. A bond that carried more weight than blood, more permanence than any relation.
As he returned to kneeling, Senior Brother Xiao Zhan raised a hand almost imperceptibly. A small table appeared beside him bearing a boiling teapot, a single cup of pale jade green, and a lidded jade jar.
Yang opened the jar. The smell hit him immediately, aromatic and strong, fine golden leaves inside that caught the light. Not wanting to keep Master waiting too long for the tea, he added two careful handfuls to the teapot to draw out the flavour more quickly. Within a couple of minutes the steam rising from the cup carried the full scent of the tea with it, the liquid having turned a deep green that might have been the tea itself or might have been the colour of the jade cup reflecting in it.
He picked up the cup with both hands, stood with his head bowed, stepped two paces closer to Master, and knelt again with the cup raised above his head toward his master.
"Disciple Chen Yang offers Master tea. Master, please accept this offering."
A few more seconds passed than Yang had expected. Then Master's hands came into view at the edge of his downcast vision, and the cup was taken.
Yang was now permitted to look up.
He watched Master bring the cup to his lips and take a small sip, then lower it and begin to speak when the Sect Master's voice came from beside him.
"Junior Brother Hua Yong. The custom requires the full cup to be drunk before announcing acceptance. To properly honor nephew's offering." The Sect Master said this with a gentle smile.
Master returned a polite smile, but his eyes looked a bit strained.
Yang watched this exchange with a careful expression, realising he may have noticed something not meant for his eyes.
He hoped very much that whatever this was between his master and the Sect Master was not a significant issue. The peaceful days had been good. He would prefer them to continue.
Master brought the cup back to his lips and drank the full contents down. He set the empty cup on his own table. Then he turned to Yang with a wide smile, though his eyes still carried the faint remnant of the preceding moment.
He stood and took a step forward, positioning himself between Yang and the assembled hall.
"I, Hua Yong, disciple of Wang Li, of White Cloud Sect, and Peak Master of Soaring Cloud Peak, accept Chen Yang as my thirteenth and last disciple."
He looked at Yang directly as he continued.
"From this day, for as long as I live, I promise to provide guidance, care, and my protection to my disciple."
Yang went still at that last word.
He understood what this meant. These were not polite ceremonial phrases. These were promises spoken to heaven, and the word of a cultivator of Master's strength carried real weight when spoken like this. In the vast web of fate, it might have been no more than a pebble cast into a great sea, but even pebbles made ripples.
The promise Master had just made would become woven into the fabric of fate itself, whether Master willed it afterward or not.
A promise to protect.
He had thought to offer respect, regard, and honor in return. Standing here now, he found those words felt insufficient against what he had just been given.
He was not going to answer sincerity with something lesser.
"Chen Yang thanks Master for accepting him as a disciple. Chen Yang promises to honor, protect, and follow Master's teach—"
"No."
Master interrupted him before he could finish.
"Honor is sufficient. These words are spoken to heaven, and I will not have my disciple bound by an oath that might one day put him in danger because of me. As for my teachings, you will follow them as long as they serve you. But every cultivator must ultimately find their own path. I can guide you only to the point where your path and mine diverge. Beyond that, you will have to find your own path."
Yang bowed his head.
“Chen Yang promises to offer Master honor, respect, loyalty, and to make him proud.”
As the words left him, he felt them settle, not as a sensation of relief but rather something more literal he was unable to name.
Master leaned forward slightly and took hold of his shoulder, drawing him to his feet, and guided him a step toward where the Sect Master and the assembled elders were seated.
"Chen Yang, give a bow to the Sect Master and the elders."
Before Yang could begin, the Sect Master waved a hand. "No need, Nephew. We are not so rigid here, and there are no outsiders in this room. Only our own people." The other elders made sounds of agreement.
The Sect Master stood, and so did Senior Brother Xiao Zhan. Master kept his hand on Yang's shoulder and guided him forward.
Yang already knew where they were going.
The ceremony was not finished.
It was time to pay respects to the ancestors.