Yang Xiu felt numb. After having played out the events with the mayor in her head over and over, it was weird that the situation was finally resolved. What would take up all the time she spent thinking about it?
She floated far above the town and monitored him while keeping one eye on her wristwatch. After all, she gave him a perfectly reasonable deadline to vacate the town. If he wasn’t fast enough, that failure was entirely on him and justified her killing him.
Not that she rooted for such.
Except that she did. She rooted for it with more fervor than she’d cheered for any of her sect mates at her first tournament all those years ago.
Unfortunately—or fortunately? She really didn’t know—Fang Bao made it past the town gates with minutes to spare.
Of course, traveling alone was dangerous. If he were simply to not make it to his destination, who could say what happened to him?
Yang Xiu blew out a breath. No, before she made her judgment, it would have perfectly acceptable to have him executed. To go back on her decree, however, would be … disastrous.
Such thoughts weren’t appropriate for a high realmed representative of the Rising Tide Sect. It wasn’t likely that anyone would ever find out what actually happened to the man as long as she was careful, but if anyone did, it would be a massive loss of face for her and the sect.
Besides, Master would truly be disappointed, and it would be almost impossible to hide the murder from him.
And she had other things she needed to do.
Actually, she winced at the thought. Logistics should have been handled before she left the sect. Guards needed to be stationed in the town to keep order and prevent unsavory elements from taking command. An audit had to be started as soon as possible so records couldn’t be destroyed. A new mayor would have to be appointed.
All those things should already be underway but weren’t.
Yang Xiu was disappointed in herself. When she’d been fifteen or sixteen or seventeen, such lapses were acceptable. She’d barely even understood logistics. As a co-vice sect leader, she had to do better. Which she normally did. An emotional personal experience didn’t excuse performing her duty any less than perfectly.
She sighed. Getting back to the sect quickly was of paramount importance. There was no time to fly to the nearest portal, meaning she’d have to burn one of Master’s Teleports.
Mistakes compounded. There was no help for it. The situation was such a monumental screwup that she’d have to visit Mo Nuying at the Punishment Hall. It was the only way for Yang Xiu to restore some of her honor.
Decision made, she pulled the appropriate talisman from her dispenser and tore it, appearing instantly outside the program’s administrative headquarters. She rushed inside and issued the appropriate commands to get everyone moving.
Foundation Establishment realm guards and an auditor would portal to the nearest hub exit and fly via gliders to Seventh Brilliant Raven Town. The advance team would arrive in less than an hour and a half with the rest following no more than an hour after that.
Hopefully, they’d be quick enough.
With that task finished, she had another one to take care of, one that filled her with even more dread that visiting the Punishment Hall—telling Yang Ru what she’d done.
***
Yang Lin felt like she’d entered a land of fairy tales. Ever since she’d died, her life couldn’t have been any better. Two kids. A loving husband. A very loving husband. Golden Core. Being a true member of the council of elders. Treasures the likes of which she could never even have dreamed of.
Of course, she sometimes still felt guilty that Yang Ru slowed his cultivation for her. Yang Xiu reached Golden Core a full two years before either of them. He didn’t seem to mind, though.
Yang Lin smiled. If fact, he seemed quite eager to pass along some of his cultivation to her literally on a daily basis. Which she quite enjoyed as well. At times, though, she felt their behavior a bit odd. After all, most cultivators weren’t usually so active in that sense.
When she’d gone to Master to ask that question, he’d said, “All couples find their own rhythm. Do what works for you and him.”
Considering the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant unless she actively took pills to make that happen, there was no harm in it. Not that she was against having more kids. It was just that two were good for the moment as they balanced raising those children with their very important positions in the sect and with cultivating. Besides, they had plenty of time, centuries at the very least.
She glanced at her wristwatch. It was almost time to pick up Ting’er, named in honor of Yang Lin’s grandfather, from school and Hong’er, named after Yang Ru’s father, from day care.
Before Yang Lin could leave, though, she sensed someone quickly approaching the house—Yang Xiu. Given her movement speed, something must have happened.
“Ru’er, your sister is coming. I think it might be important.”
Yang Lin hated to disturb his cultivation, obviously, especially considering how much of it he sacrificed for her, but both of them knew that the decision about how to handle Town Lord Fang Bao a difficult one for Yang Xiu. It was likely that she’d made the choice and needed assurance that it was the right call or she was simply frustrated at her inability to choose. Either way, she needed her family.
Yang Lin threw open the door and knew she’d made the right call as soon as she saw her sister-in-law’s face.
When she was younger, Yang Xiu had been difficult to take sometimes. She had too much energy and overflowed with enthusiasm. Growing older hadn’t completely diminished her natural exuberance, but it had tamed it to a manageable level.
The Yang Xiu that showed up at the door showed none of her normal optimistic, excitable self. Instead, she seemed nervous, almost manic. Distraught.
Yang Lin ushered Yang Xiu inside just as Yang Ru emerged from the back of the house.
“I didn’t kill him, Ru’er. I didn’t. He killed our parents, and I let him go.”
Yang Ru stood there frozen, looking at her.
“I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?” Yang Xiu paused, and when she spoke again, her tone was much lower. “No. Of course you can’t. I messed up.”
She turned to go.
“Xiu’er, wait!” Yang Lin said.
She glared at her husband.
Yang Ru wasn’t a natural hugger. When the first set of children had been born, Master had been quite clear on a number of issues regarding how he wanted families to work. For one thing, kids needed both their parents to the greatest extent possible. It was up to each couple to figure out their own roles, but whereas society normally didn’t expect fathers to do much other than provide discipline and communicate expectations, Master believed that children were best off when both parents were actively involved in all parts of childrearing, including diaper duty.
Perhaps even more impactful was Master’s idea that kids needed love more than anything else. As a practical matter, that expectation conferred two responsibilities on parents toward their kids—telling them they were loved multiple times per day and giving them hugs.
Yang Ru had adapted well. Whenever Ting’er skinned a knee, Daddy was the first person she ran to. Whenever Hong’er got scared due to a thunderstorm, he wanted Daddy.
Even Yang Lin agreed that the man did give good hugs.
Seeing his sister distraught, though, wasn’t the same as his kids. For one thing, Yang Xiu always had an aura of toughness. She rarely either never let anything get to her or she didn’t show it.
That time, she clearly needed him.
Having been married for nearly eight years, Ru’er knew exactly what Yang Lin meant. He rushed to his sister before she could leave and embraced her.
“You’re okay,” he said, as if to one of the kids. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
“I didn’t… I should have… Should I have… I couldn’t…”
Yang Lin had known that her sister-in-law had struggled with the decision, but to see her normally bubbly visage so distraught… It was heartbreaking. Truly. She hadn’t been so affected by anything since Ye Zan’s death.
“It’s okay, Xiu’er. I understand. You made the right decision.”
“How could you say that?” Yang Xiu shouted. “He killed our parents!”
“No, he didn’t. His son did. And Master already took care of that long ago.”
Yang Xiu’s desire for revenge was understandable, of course, but as someone who didn’t have children of her own, she just couldn’t understand how utterly devastating the loss of a son or daughter would be. Yang Lin couldn’t even imagine suffering such a thing herself. She felt that some degree of clemency was warranted.
Not that she’d even state her opinion. Such matters were best left to the people most impacted.
Yang Xiu looked up at him. “You’re really okay with my decision?”
“I am.”
She broke out of his embrace and backed up a few steps before cupping her hands. “Gratitude, Brother.”