“Necessary, if it is to bind a soul like yours going forward,” Lord Dripping Blade agreed. “You can read the document for yourself, but I will repeat its core contents.
“First, you shall promise never to harm me nor my family, directly or indirectly, nor order the doing of such actions unless you have probable reason to believe that I have broken or will immediately break the terms of this contract. You will swear that you have not ordered such actions to be done at a future time, and if you have done so, you will immediately retract such orders.
“In exchange, I will cease any and all hostilities, whether direct or indirect, with you and the people close to you, with the exception of the one who calls himself Dao Lord Black Fish, the primary culprit of my son’s death.
“Prefecture Lord Burning Lake, who has already signed the contract, will do the same. The contract will take effect when all three appropriate signatures are placed. We are bound by the conduct of our family and direct associates and swear that no prior arrangements have been made for any such damage. If we have done so, we will immediately rectify this. These terms binding us mirror your own restrictions and obligations, as is appropriate.”
“Hardly appropriate if I’m to give something up,” Cha Ming said.
Lord Dripping Blade cleared his throat. “In compensation for signing this restricting contract, we will sponsor your advancement with any and all resources required to bring your qi cultivation to the rune-gathering realm. Beyond this, we will provide no further compensation.”
Cha Ming took a quick note of the remainder of the subtext. The small print, as one would call it, though it wasn’t small to evade detection but more so to save on extremely expensive paper. In truth, the contract was written in three dimensions, much of which contained the mechanics that enforced such a contract. He reviewed those mechanisms.
The enforcement penalties were simple. Should any party breach the contract, it would alert the other parties. The offending party would also suffer three penalties—soul binding, Dao binding, and divine constriction. All three would weaken the offending party permanently and make it difficult to advance.
“Do you have any questions?” Lord Dripping Blade asked.
Cha Ming thought a while. He reviewed the wording and ran it past Sun Wukong to be sure. “It’s ironclad. It seems I misjudged you.”
“How did you misjudge me, pray tell?” Lord Dripping Blade asked.
“You are much shrewder than your son,” Cha Ming replied. “Not nearly so hot-headed.” Lord Dripping Blade’s eye twitched, but he said nothing. “Unfortunately, I cannot sign this.” He pushed back the document.
“The contract is perfectly logical,” Lord Dripping Blade said. “You are not equipped to defend yourself against two prefecture lords, even with what meager shielding the Kingfisher Guard can offer you. Unless you are superbly lucky, you will not get another chance to grow. No party in the prefecture will give you asylum.”
“The Greenwind Pavilion has already offered me sanctuary,” Cha Ming said.
Lord Dripping Blade didn’t bat an eyelash. “Then by all means, accept their usurious offer. I cannot control immortals.”
“Perhaps I will. Perhaps I won’t. Regardless, I must decline your offer,” Cha Ming said.
“Then tell me why,” Lord Dripping Blade said. There was passion to his voice now that had been missing earlier. The mere concept of Cha Ming’s refusal seemed to frustrate him. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Is it about Black Fish? We could negotiate something that doesn’t result in his death. We could orchestrate a clever play and craft a disguise for him. No one need ever know the difference.”
Cha Ming chuckled and shook his head. “That’s the thing, Lord Dripping Blade. You’re shrewd. You expect others to be just as shrewd and cold-hearted as you are. You need to understand that not everyone is like you.” He put his finger down on the contract. “You are so certain that I’ll want revenge in the future. You take me for one who thinks with his heart. Yet at the same time, you’re thinking I’ll take the logical route while ignoring the fact that maybe, for me, there are some things money can’t buy.”
Lord Dripping Blade’s gaze hardened.
“I may never get revenge for my friends. Black Fish could move on and forgive you, and I would honor his wishes. You could well be left out of this mess. But one thing I will never do is sell away the memory of my friends. I will not even entertain taking money or advancement or relief in exchange for justice I might never dole out. Even if this contract gave full protection to Black Fish, I still would not accept.”
Lord Dripping Blade’s eyes narrowed. “I could make things very difficult for your friends.”
“Wei Longshen is protected,” Cha Ming shot back. “And if you touch my demon companion or his brothers, or even think of inconveniencing the others, I guarantee you that the day I become strong enough, I will come down on both your families like a reaper in the night. You will turn a possibility into a certainty.”
“You’re not giving me a lot to work with,” Lord Dripping Blade said. “No guarantees, and a whole lot of threats.”
“For now, you’re just an annoyance,” Cha Ming said. “But heed my warning: Get out of my hair and stop bothering me and everyone I know. If you do, by the time I’m strong enough to take care of you, I’ll have forgotten all about you. It will be an inconvenience to come back for vengeance, and by then, the kingdom will probably stop me from interfering in your affairs by judging it as petty one-sided bullying. I’ll be forced to stay my hand if only to save face.”
Lord Dripping Blade took another sip of his tea, shuddered, then placed his cup down and wiped his mouth. They both stood up slowly. “You’ve forced me to act, boy,” he said. “But let no one say I didn’t give the Wei Clan face. It was the only reason we were here talking anyway. I’ll give you a head start, so that everyone can attest that you left the manor safely.”
“I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion,” Cha Ming said. His heart was beating quickly. He’d made an impulsive decision, though he didn’t regret doing so.
Now you’ve done it, Sun Wukong said as they left the room in a hurry. But hey, I give respect where it’s due—that was the best telling-off I’ve heard in centuries!
You’ve been sealed in a paintbrush for centuries, Cha Ming said. He massaged the space between his eyes, then turned his thoughts to Huxian. We need to go. Now.
The small fox appeared beside him a half second later using short-distance teleportation. Since they were bonded companions, he was the easiest target for Huxian to lock on to.
“What’s the rush?” Huxian asked.
“A rune-gathering cultivator is about to try to kill us,” Cha Ming said. “I don’t think sticking around would be wise.”
“This is what I get for complaining about being bored,” Huxian grumbled. “Just give me one second.” He disappeared, and there was angry shouting from the first floor as Cha Ming descended the steps and headed for the exit.
“What did you do this time?” Cha Ming asked.
“I was hungry, and there was a buffet,” Huxian said defensively.
Cha Ming looked to the empty tables and the angry guests and noted the emphasis on the word was. “Let’s go before anyone else tries to kill us.”
Chapter 3: Complications
The hour was late, and many guests were already gone when Wei Longshen saw Cha Ming and Huxian making a hasty exit. Their anxious departure and the subsequent crashing sound that came from the guest room they’d met in left little to the imagination. He thought about going to speak with the angry prefecture lord but quickly changed his mind when he saw the lord’s heated glare. Survival was best, he decided.
Besides, he was tied up having a rather unpleasant conversation. “I’m sorry, I missed that last part,” Wei Longshen said. A slim lady with black and blond hair and deep amber eyes ignored the slight. She smiled and repeated herself.
“Like I was saying, chaos in the de
mon lands means there will be plenty of opportunities shortly. It would be best to position ourselves accordingly. Our family’s patriarch, my father, has been quite keen on alliances of late, and I would be happy to intervene on your behalf.”
On the surface, the conversation was innocent. The type of political banter that one might expect to hear from any of the attendees this evening. What made this talk different, however, was that the lady in question was Cao Shufen, the eldest daughter in the Cao Clan, one of the five great clans in the city. She was considered the most eligible lady of marriageable age, even more so than Mi Fei. Not only was she talented and heavily doted upon by her father, her very talented brother was also very protective of her. How could he not take the hint that a marriage alliance was on the table?
“Our family would undoubtedly be interested in discussing this matter,” Wei Longshen answered tactfully. He couldn’t just tell her to get lost, as this would be a deep embarrassment for his parents. “I have several younger brothers I would love to introduce you to. They are both ambitious and talented.”
“But none so talented as you,” Cao Shufen said. “I hear you are a musician as well.”
“I perform every month or so,” Wei Longshen said. “If you are interested, I’ll be playing in Springleaf Park two weeks from now. Many hundreds of people stop by every time I play.”
“I’m afraid my parents would frown at my attending such a public function,” Cao Shufen said. “Perhaps something private would be more appropriate.”
“Then I’ll be sure to inquire with my parents about arranging a performance at our next party,” Wei Longshen said. They would refuse, of course. Especially if he worded it the right way. They’d always disapproved of his hobby. In his parents’ opinion, musicians were a waste of space. If not for his extremely high talent as a soul piper, and the fact that he could use said power to fight well above his rank, they would have forbidden him from practicing. He liked his odds of slipping out of this predicament.
“Perhaps I will intervene on your behalf, Young Master Wei,” Cao Shufen said. “My brother usually considers the requests I make very seriously. He should be able to convince them.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Ah. There he is now. Brother dearest, have you spoken with Young Master Wei Longshen yet?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” said the young man as he walked over. “I was busy greeting the leaders of all the major houses. It would be improper for a commander of the prefecture’s forces to greet the younger generation first.”
Wei Longshen cursed under his breath. Prideful and arrogant. Those were the best words to describe her brother, Cao Wenluan. He was a well-built man, with a sharp jawline. He had black and blond hair like his sister, but instead of amber eyes, his were deep black. Not the usual black you would see in the common people, but black like the void. Black like the night sky. Moreover, the moment he saw him, Wei Longshen discovered an important fact about the man he’d previously not realized due to their lack of interactions: he didn’t like him one bit.
“I’m glad you could take the time to greet someone as lowly as I,” Wei Longshen said. He bowed deeply to Cao Wenluan, who barely returned the bow. “There are many other people who are far more qualified to be honored by your presence.”
“Well, if my sister thinks it’s important for us to meet, then meet you I shall,” the man said. He held out his hand—an odd custom from the Slovana Empire. The blond hair in his head was from his grandmother, or so Wei Longshen had read in the man’s dossier. Though the demigod bloodline was diluted, Cao Wenluan was a body cultivator, and a strong one at that.
Wei Longshen took the man’s hand and gripped it. Cao Wenluan squeezed with a grip that was just shy of crushing. He was older, had a higher cultivation base, and had an official position in the prefectural army. He wasn’t afraid to show his superiority.
“You have quite the grip,” Wei Longshen said, pulling away his trembling hand.
“My apologies,” Cao Wenluan replied. “It is traditional in Slovana culture to give a firm grip in order to show respect for a man’s strength.”
“The fault is mine for not being able to handle even your slightest exertion,” Wei Longshen replied. There was only one way to handle a prideful nutcase who was politically, economically, and physically stronger than you—admitting your inferiority.
“Brother,” Cao Shufen scolded and frowned.
“Ah, apologies, sister dearest,” Cao Wenluan said. “Old habits.”
“He is not so intimidating once you get to know him,” Cao Shufen assured Wei Longshen. “He means well, and I’m sure that he will speak to your parents and get them to accept my request for a private performance.”
“Filial piety is to be strived for at all times,” Wei Longshen replied. “I would be honored to do as they wish.”
“Ah, I’ve long heard of the Wei family’s Five Guiding Virtues,” Cao Wenluan said. “Please, what are they again? Something about doing as you’re told?”
“In essence, all guiding virtues are about doing as you’re told,” Wei Longshen replied. “But if you insist on it, we are drilled on this matter from a young age. The first and most important rule is to honor your parents.”
“How curious that this comes before the second rule, which states that you must honor your ruler,” Cao Wenluan said. “Many argue the order should be reversed.” A common argument. One that he’d been trained to answer to since childbirth.
“It is said that a king is like a father,” Wei Longshen admitted. “Unfortunately, humans are fallible. It is impossible to fully displace the primal bond of parenthood. That being said, if the parents honor their ruler, so will their children. There is no contradiction.”
“Then why the other rules, if they are needless?” Cao Wenluan asked.
A small crowd was gathering. Wei Longshen didn’t like arguments like these, but he wouldn’t shrink back. This wasn’t a personal squabble. He was arguing for his family’s honor.
“Additional rules are required for clarification,” Wei Longshen answered. “The third rule is to obey all laws, while the fourth rule is to be just in all ways, both legally and traditionally.”
“Does the law not cover traditional justice?” asked Cao Wenluan. “Your family rules imply the law is imperfect.”
“The law is more than adequate to enforce order on an imperfect society,” Wei Longshen shot back. “In the end, however, it is but a tool used by rulers to enforce the greater good. But I am sure your father understands this, just as his father did. I could see no other reason why they have reiterated their support for our family rules every time the kingdom publishes them to the public as moral guidelines.”
“You have a way with words,” said Cao Wenluan. “If only you were a better fighter.”
“I am young,” Wei Longshen said. “I have much time to grow.”
“I still don’t understand the need for the fifth rule,” Cao Wenluan said. “Why the redundant showing of respect to all others regardless of station?”
“Justice, both legal and traditional, cover what is fair,” Wei Longshen replied with practiced ease. “Respect goes beyond that. At all times, you must give others the benefit of the doubt. Even though you might not agree with their way of thinking. All people have a will of their own, and it would be unjust and unwise to dismiss it out of hand. Moreover…” He looked Cao Wenluan in the eye. “It is also possible that one so great and eminent as you could be in error.”
Cao Wenluan’s eyes narrowed. “And there you have it. A system to maintain a perfectly servile family in an imperfect world.”
“As I agreed in the first place,” Wei Longshen said. “Our family serves. Does your family have other ambitions? Other motives, perhaps?” The crowd muttered as Wei Longshen landed the killing blow.
Cao Wenluan flushed lightly but regained his composure and grinned. He laughed, and the audience dispersed. “I see that you have some backbone after all, even if you only exert it in the worst
of ways.”
“Not all are as skilled at arms as you and your family,” Wei Longshen said. He looked to a clock on the wall. It was just before eleven, the appointed time for his meeting. “Alas, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting to attend.”
“More important than finishing our conversation?” asked Cao Wenluan.
“Since I am meeting with my father, the answer can only be yes,” Wei Longshen replied. “It’s the first rule, after all.” He bowed and left the dumbstruck young master of the Cao Clan and his disappointed sister. His father would punish him for his biting words, of course. But now, more than ever, he thanked his family for their strict instruction. There may have been friction. There may have been disrespect. But by any account, he hadn’t lost what was most important to all political creatures: face.
Patriarch Wei’s study was a bastion of order. Everything was clean and tidy. The books on each shelf were placed from largest to smallest, and the man’s pen and inkwell were located precisely six inches from the edge. There was nothing on the desk that didn’t absolutely need to be there—such as a seal or a desk lamp. Those could be fetched at one’s convenience.
The remainder of the redwood surface was empty. Papers should not be left unattended lest wandering eyes pry apart their secrets. They were stored in filing cabinets, located just in arm’s reach if he swiveled his chair. Nothing was redundant. Nothing was overlooked. Wei Longshen knew for a fact that his father’s mind was just as orderly as his office.
Wei Qiu, known by almost everyone as Patriarch Wei, was a thin man. He had a small nose and bushy eyebrows, and narrow shoulders that didn’t befit a powerful cultivator such as he. He wasn’t a good-looking man, and more than once, Wei Longshen had thanked fate for blessing him with more of his mother’s traits. Patriarch Wei was just finishing up with a document as Wei Longshen walked in, precisely at eleven o’clock.
Crown of the Starry Sky: Book 11 of Painting the Mists Page 6
