Night of the Broken Gliph

The guards heaved a sigh of relief on seeing how polite Bak Wun was. They weren’t actual soldiers, just guards in charge of patrolling. Most of them were either commoners or mere one-chambered gliphers who couldn’t afford to offend any large clans. Members of such clans were known to generally have weird tempers, and there was an incident previously where an old man suddenly killed a guard of the Eastern Bulwark because he spoke rudely. After investigating, they realised the old man was an elder of a particular clan, and the matter was dropped. 

The guards were therefore relieved to hear Bak Wun speaking politely. “Your honourable self is too polite. Can we take a look at the inside of the coach? Sorry for the inconvenience, but we have to do our jobs. We ask for your understanding.” 

“Of course, please go ahead.” Bak Wun laughed. 

The guard moved forward and lifted the curtain, revealing Chor Shing Chit who was cultivating with his eyes shut tightly, and Chui Yim who only glanced at them before turning back to look at the scenery once more. The guard paled slightly, feeling Chor Shing Chit’s three-chambered glipher’s aura. Chui Yim behaved like his usual self, but the guard felt he was no different from the classic, arrogant clan disciples. 

Since there was nothing out of place, the guard stepped back. Chor Shing Chit’s aura was too suffocating anyways. But before he let them pass, a cold voice rang out. 

“The Tse Clan?” 

The guard froze at the sound. Familiar with the voice, he instantly turned around and bowed. “Greetings, General.” 

“Mhmm,” the General replied. He had a cold, low and raspy voice that sounded like rocks scratching.  

Bak Wun blinked his eyes, and a teasing look washed over his face the next second. 

“The Night Lion’s Tse Clan, huh? How impressive. Why didn’t you use the teleportation formation instead of the night wolf? Are you here to show off?” The cold voice slowly grew in pressure as the sound waves rippled towards the coach like a gale. 

The night lion let out a miserable cry and lay down, not daring to move. Those queuing behind Chui Yim’s coach moved away quickly, resulting in long tracks caused by the hardyhorses trying to escape. That was how mighty the voice was. 

Not getting a response from those inside the coach, the person glared at it fiercely. The man was wearing his military armour. His black cloak danced in the air as he wore a cold and fierce expression.

“If you wish to pass the Southern Bulwark, come out to be inspected within three seconds, or I will deny you passage.” 

There was movement around the entire Southern Bulwark as the man spoke. Soldiers in black armour showed up one by one, blocking the Southern Bulwark like a river of soldiers. Some of them had fierce auras, and there were even three-chambered gliphers among them. 

These were the actual guards of Southern Bulwark, known as the Spiral Dragon Soldiers. 

The curtains were raised as a buff man stepped out of the coach. As soon as the man appeared, all the Spiral Dragon Soldiers looked solemn. Even their three-chambered gliphers kept his guards up, which meant that the person was at least a three-chambered glipher!  

However, they only remained alert without doing anything. They were at the Southern Bulwark, and they were all  Spiral Dragon Soldiers. Most importantly, with their general there, they had nothing to fear.  

They turned towards their general subconsciously. To their surprise, they saw their general tremble. Their general was a fierce four-chambered glipher; what could he be afraid of? 

Seeing this, they took precautions. The chambers hidden under their uniforms lit up, ready to attack while Chor Shing Chit stood still and stared at the general. To be exact, he was staring at the flag-like black cloak. There was a dim grey dragon that looked like a coiled snake embroidered on it, just that it had horns and four claws on its stomach. This crest was of the same significance as the night lion was to the Tse Clan—nothing could replace it. 

It belonged to the Chor Clan. 

Chor Shing Chit didn’t take the teleportation gliph formation with Wong Kwan because he didn’t want to face certain things so soon Yet, he couldn’t control fate, just like how that girl stood in front of him back then. That was something he wanted to escape, but there she was, standing in front of him once more. 

The clans that guarded the checkpoints changed quinquennially, and it was now the Chor Clan’s turn. 

Be it his voice or his looks, Chor Shing Chit greatly resembled the general in front of him.

“It’s been a long time, father.” 

Of course, there was more than one entrance at the Southern Bulwark besides the bulky city gates. There were some secret entrances too. 

Inside the checkpoint was the base and barracks where the guards resided. There was one small house in the middle, surrounded and protected by many larger buildings. It was the residence of the general guarding the checkpoint. 

Chor Chun Ping walked in front while Chor Shing Chit, Bak Wun and Chui Yim followed. Chui Yim kept staring at the father and son curiously. Intelligent as he was, he knew that Chor Shing Chit had a powerful backing just by the gliph tattooed on him as well as how he became a three-chambered glipher before forty. He watched the two acknowledge each other silently.  

Chor Chun Ping strode into the living room. It was plain without much decoration, with only one seat for the host and eight guest seats, four on each side. Chor Chun Ping didn’t go to the main seat. He turned around, his cloak flying up and revealing the Spiral Dragon gliph that pulsated, sending a bloody warmth throughout the hall.

When Chor Shing Chit regained his senses, Chor Chun Ping was hugging him very tightly. It had been nineteen years since they last met. 

“I’m glad you’re finally back.” 

Chor Shing Chit felt tears welling up. Nineteen years had passed since he left the clan without a word. He had imagined countless scenarios of meeting again; would his father beat him up in anger, or stare at him disappointedly? But he never imagined this. 

Chor Chun Ping had always been a fierce father. Under his strict teaching, Chor Shing Chit trained physically and consumed g-food from six, managing to achieve the one-chambered state at eleven. He became one of the most talented geniuses of his generation and made his father proud. Despite this, Chor Chun Ping never relaxed during his lessons. 

Chor Shing Chit felt suffocated. He was like a string pulled taut at the time, nearly breaking when that girl appeared in front of him and finally snapping when he didn’t make it into the Cloud Palace.