Ave Xia Rem Y

~~~

Age has not taken much from their father. Unlike Elder Xun, whose hair has long since lost the battle against whiteness, their father’s hair retains its red color. Normally, it would be tied in a topknot, but now it flows freely all the way to his shoulders. His skin only shows the barest presence of age lines amidst unblemished jade.

His golden eyes freeze them in place.

“Are you children?”

The words are spoken softly and without any shred of Qi in them. In the utter stillness created by their father’s sudden appearance, they find no trouble reaching the two of them. Not even a stray gust of wind dares disturb their path.

“I ask because yet again I find myself mediating your fights as if you were mere whelps who have not seen more than ten springs. I thought times like these were long past. Clearly, I misjudged your maturity.”

Both brothers flinch, and not just because of what their father is saying. Something else is at play. A power foreign even to Emperors such as themselves, yet paradoxically familiar. Every word that comes out of their father’s mouth has authority to it. His voice leaves behind an odd echo as if reality itself were vacillating, unsure whether it should take their father’s words as fact.

Has he finally stabilized?

“Follow me,” their father says. Space shifts around them, and they let it. The scenery around them is replaced by the inside of the main house. Despite their short but intense battle, the main house remains unblemished. Just as they knew it would be. Their father’s presence within the building always guaranteed not even a single stone would be moved out of place.

Their father has transported them to his meditation chamber, a luxuriously decorated red room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the furniture, the flames that illuminate the room, and even the smoke from the incense. No color other than red is allowed in this room. Even the robes his father wears right now are pure red without any patterns or embroidery.

It may help their father center himself, but Feng Gui has always thought it was a little too much, an opinion he has often voiced in the past.

Feng Shang has never said anything about it, but what else can be expected of his dull older brother?

“I cannot fault you for your aggressiveness,” their father says. His voice fills the room and leaves no room for anyone else. “Nor can I be angry about your willingness to kill in service of your goals. Usually, I’d find myself approving of such behavior. Perhaps even proud. Goals cannot be accomplished by those without resolve. It is not enough to be powerful. One must be willing to do anything to force their will upon the world. Else power is worthless.”

Power is worthless without the will to act. How many times did he tell them that when they were children?

Has he ever stopped trying to teach them that?

“I had no problems with your failure to win the Crimson Cloud Tournament,” their father tells Feng Shang. “Even ten lost tournaments would be a small matter. Similarly, the Internal Force’s recklessness and even potentially angering my dear, old friend are not matters I take issue with.”

His gaze then shifts over to Feng Gui. “Nor did I mind that your takeover of the Medical Pavilion and subsequent denial of supplies to the capital caused the loss of some disciples. Those truly talented would have survived regardless, and they would have won regardless. That is what it means to oppose Heaven’s Will. Similarly, the Apothecary’s recent hoarding of supplies or the Exploration Division’s more discrete actions are no big matter.”

Feng Gui’s throat is suddenly dry.

Their father’s Shadow could not have possibly gathered that information while he was deep in meditation. Someone has been reporting to him. Elder Xun most likely, but that means the old man has paid far more attention to the affairs of the Eternal Flame Clan than anyone gave him credit for.

Old books should just gather dust on the high shelf.

“Lie. Betray. Cheat. Recklessly. Methodically. Relentlessly. Accept nothing but ultimate victory.”

His father’s golden eyes narrow.

“However, I would have liked to think you knew such things are not acceptable between family.”

He does not yell, yet the strength of his anger is such that the brothers find their heads turned to the side as if they had just been slapped.

“Father!” Feng Shang dares to step forward. “I did not-”

Another invisible slap to the face silences him.

“Will you claim you did not mean to kill your nephew? That makes you either foolish enough to try to lie to me or so incompetent you were unable to control a mere whelp of less than four hundred years! Which one is it?”

Feng Shang lowers his head.

“I am sorry, father.”

Were he three hundred years younger, Feng Gui might have winced. That was not the answer their father wanted.

“I did not ask for your apologies, son,” their father says slowly and with thinning patience. The fine hairs on Feng Gui’s arm bristle as the odd feeling in the room intensifies. “I asked you for an answer. Foolish or incompetent. Which do you declare yourselves to be?”

Danger looms around them like a pack of hungry wolves.

No.

Perhaps they are inside the wolf’s mouth already.

“...I was foolish, father.”

Feng Shang says it with such poise, such grace, that Feng Gui cannot help but envy him a little. There is barely any hesitation in his older brother’s voice. A normal person would not have even noticed it. His eyes do not waver. His stance is perfect in its deference. His head not held too high, yet his back not showing any excessive submissiveness.

Even though they are Emperors who can control their blood and flesh as they please, Feng Shang has always been better at it than him.

“No.”

A single word from their father’s mouth makes Feng Shang’s answer suddenly seem grossly inadequate. Unfit.

“You were foolish and incompetent.”

The declaration causes Feng Gui to give his brother a closer look.

Not his face. Not his body. Not even his Qi. Feng Shang does not betray his inner feelings in the slightest. Had he really not known about the attack on Feng Hao? Could he be having trouble controlling the Elders under him? If so, perhaps he shouldn’t have attacked him so fiercely, not that Feng Gui regrets it in the slightest.

Anything that exposes his brother’s incompetence is good for him.

“Then there is you.”

Their father turns his gaze towards him. Unlike his brother, Feng Gui refuses to back down.

“I only acted as was proper.”

“You have been content to watch your brother grow reckless because you trusted I would stop him and hand you the leadership of the Eternal Flame Clan when he had shamed himself enough. Why did you fail to do so this time?” His father pauses for a moment. Perhaps to give him a chance to answer. Perhaps to underscore his point with the silence that followed.

Regardless, when he continues, it is with renewed energy and renewed anger.

“You stopped believing I cared. You believed your petty games would incite me to act yet failed to believe I would do so when my grandson was at risk? You dared to doubt me?”

The ensuing slap echoes across the room and leaves Feng Gui’s cheek stinging. However, it is nothing compared to what he feels at the unfairness of it all. His father is not angry at him for anything he did in pursuit of the Eternal Flame Clan.

His only crime is not trusting his father at the very end.

For his father, that one moment of so-called weakness is all that matters.

“I thought the time when I had to come up with punishments for you was long gone, yet here we find ourselves.” Their father summons a seat. His children are left to stand. The mention of punishment has them both on alert. “I had hoped you would have settled who will become Patriarch among yourselves. My brother and I did not have nearly as much trouble. He had no taste for leadership and gladly stepped aside.”

Their dear uncle had preferred a life of adventure, something that had gotten him killed in the Dead Plains.

“Settled?” Feng Shang echoes incredulously. “Father, how can I step aside when Feng Gui so clearly wants to threaten what we have built. How can you even consider him for-?”

“Whoever becomes Patriarch of the Eternal Flame Clan can do as he wishes with the Eternal Flame,” their father interrupts. It is a conversation Feng Gui has witnessed many times already, and one that has probably happened quite a few times behind his back as well. “The preservation of the Eternal Flame has never been a duty of the Patriarch. Contrary to what you two may believe, neither of your visions would be unsuitable for our Eternal Flame Clan.”

Both brothers aim identical incredulous looks at their father.

“However, we are not here to list your merits. We talk of punishment now.”

His father looks at them carefully. Feng Gui feels his eyes scrutinizing every inch of his soul.

“I have put much thought into this,” their father says. More proof someone has been talking to him while he was meditating. He had probably been planning on punishing them even before their fight began. “And I think I have arrived at an answer that will displease you both greatly.”

Under other circumstances, it would have been the sort of thing they could all laugh at. Here and now, it feels dark and foreboding. Their father suddenly seems miles away. His judgment does not hang over them so much as it wraps them in their embrace, pulling them closer and reassuring them that escape is not possible.

“You have used our disciples to fight your little wars. You have discarded them without a care because they are beneath us. I will now use those disciples to settle this.”

Their father’s lips curl into a smirk that sets their teeth on edge.

“There is little need to involve Outer Disciples on this. Let’s see… Eighty-nine Inner Disciples and ten Core Disciples each. That should do it. Of course, they must all be disciples who are in the compound at the present time. Additionally, you must use all the disciples who took part in the debacle in the Sparring Hall, regardless of their physical condition. My good friend’s grandson will be included as well.”

As someone at the peak of the Emperor Realm, Feng Gui has perfect control over his physical body. His heart will not speed up unless he wills it to. His blood will only flow the way he wants it to. His brain is subject to his whims.

Despite that, he still feels his stomach drop as his father keeps rattling off conditions.

“Father... what exactly are you proposing?” Feng Shang asks.

“Why, the method by which the next Patriarch will be elected, of course. What else could I be talking about?”

“What!”

Feng Gui does not know who shouts. It could have been him. It could have been his brother. It could have been both of them. On this matter, their shock and outrage are equal.

“Silence!”

Again the strength of their father’s voice slaps them across the face.

“Contrary to what you two may have deluded yourselves into thinking, the selection of the next Patriarch is not something you have any input in. It is not your domain. It is mine. My Duty. My Responsibility. My Power.”

Each word makes them feel smaller, and their father seem bigger. No, it may actually be happening. Dimensions rippling to accommodate their father’s words as truth.

“You were content to treat the weaker disciples as pieces to be discarded. Now those weak disciples hold the weight of your ambitions. Their strength, cunning, and guile, not yours, will decide which of the two will become Patriarch. You will do nothing but choose and pray you chose wisely. Watch helplessly as people who are like ants decide whether you will reach your dreams. That. Is your Punishment.”

The Eternal Flame Clan might be a place of fire but only cold remains after their father’s verdict. The aftermath of an execution might have been warmer.

“What…” Feng Gui starts but loses his voice almost immediately. He swallows saliva to wet his throat. “What will be the terms?”

“It is customary for members of the Feng Clan to walk into the Dead Plains and search for the Sun Scrolls. My father did it. My brother and I did. You did it, and your children will do it one day as well.”

Ludicrous!

To send a group composed of mainly Inner Disciples to the Dead Plains is already sending most of them to their deaths, but to make them search for the Sun Scrolls? There is no way they can succeed! And if they cannot succeed, how is their father meant to determine anything?

Is he just mocking them?

“Of course, it would be futile to expect them to succeed where so many have failed. No, I will not require them to find the Sun Scrolls. Their goal will be far more humble. You will each pick ninety-nine disciples, and I will drop each group in a different part of the Dead Plains. Their goal will be to reach the Eye of the Plains and acquire a temple stone to bring here. The one whose chosen ones manage this feat will become the next Patriarch.”

Not impossible for Core Disciples, especially ten of them. However, it’s still too dangerous.

And yet, there is no point in bringing that up to their father. All their complaints will be dismissed without care.

“How much time do we have to prepare,” Feng Shang asks, likely thinking of all the wounded disciples in the Medical Pavilion he must include because they were in the Sparring Hall during the brawl. Feng Gui, who controls the Medical Pavilion, will naturally have his disciples ready first.

“You will have two weeks.”

Feng Gui frowns. He’d have liked a little less time. Still, he doubts he could have gotten away with pretending the disciples were not ready in time.

Then there is the matter of Xun Huwen.

By forcing his inclusion in the challenge, their father has given Feng Shang a powerful weapon but an uncontrollable one. Xun Huwen is as likely to hinder Feng Shang as he is to help him. More importantly, since his father has limited the participation to only disciples present in the Eternal Flame Clan’s compound right now, Feng Shang cannot use Feng Zhuo.

All those conditions heavily favor Feng Gui. It seems their father is quite angry with Feng Shang.

“Feng Hao will also be included in this.”

“What?”

There is no doubt as to whose roar reverberates in the chamber this time. Feng Gui steps forward. His Qi flares up like a small nova. Wrath writ across his face.

“You dare chastise us for endangering our family, yet now tell me to place my son in mortal danger?! You know most of those disciples will not return alive!”

“Silence.”

Feng Gui’s power is snuffed out in an instant. Suddenly, he is not an Emperor standing tall and proud, but a child before his father.

“Do not question me, son. Feng Hao will go.” Their father turns to Feng Shang. “If Feng Hao is killed during this contest, I will kill Feng Zhuo in retaliation.”

Feng Shang’s face turns ashen. Even Feng Gui is taken aback.

“And Feng Gui will automatically be made Patriarch.”

What?

“Of course,” their father says, rising from his seat. “That is only if Feng Hao dies at any moment during the contest.”

That… that…

How dare he!

Feng Gui cannot speak. He cannot move.

He can only tremble with impotent rage.

“You are dismissed. I will contact you with further details of the contest at a later date. You have two weeks. Use them wisely.”

~~~