Music thumps over the ballroom, a deep, rhythmic pulse that makes the floor under our feet vibrate. Why is he here? I finally felt comfortable enough to relax and enjoy myself at Yuileen’s and Kamoe’s side. All those nobles were no longer relevant or intimidating, and I felt the party’s warmth washing over me. But then I saw him.

  The Crow.

  Also known as Lord Angus von Kellnacht.

  Now he is standing there, chatting with some other Lord, his posture relaxed, too casual, like he belongs here. He also acts like he doesn’t know me and has never seen me—as if he never was the boon and bane of my childhood. But I know better. I feel my pulse spike. The air around me thickens into a dense soup, shrinking the room. The voices blur into meaningless noise. I feel as if my heart is frozen.

  I turn away sharply. My heart hammers back into motion. The Crow isn’t supposed to be here. He isn’t even a noble—at least, I hadn’t known that he was. That bastard has more layers than an onion. Has he come for me? I feel my stomach twist at the thought. I can feel the phantom grip of his fingers on my wrist, old memories floating to the top like shit. I remember his voice scolding me for being too loud, slow, or clumsy.

  Until I got away from him, I never knew I was missing something—freedom, a degree of control over my future. I wheeze, trying to infuse some control into my breathing. Master Wen won’t let him take me back. The Crow has to know that. I remember that he had his own candidate to become Wen’s disciple. That charming Kevin, but he doesn’t seem too dissatisfied by this outcome either. No. His smile almost seems smug and pleased. He must be here to remind me that I owe him for educating me and that I can’t ever escape no matter where I go. Someday, he will come to demand that I pay back the favor.

  My breath hitches. I feel like a cornered cat, frightened, searching for a way to leave. But I can’t. I weave through the sea of bodies toward Master Wen. At least by his side, I should be somewhat safe. Should I tell him?

  Wait a minute! The Crow has some connections to those rebels. I saw those thunder sticks they use in his warehouse. Does he know that I saw them? I dare to glance at him. He still stands there, carefree. What would happen if I ratted him out?

  Somehow, I have the feeling that it wouldn’t end well. The Crow never goes anywhere without planning for all the different outcomes his presence may cause. I can almost imagine it. His word against mine. The word of an empire’s lord against that of a commoner whose luck everybody already envies. Yeah! Who would they believe?

  It still seems risky for The Crow if somebody decides to investigate it. Who would, though? Not Master Wen. He doesn’t seem to care about anything outside his valley. He doesn’t even seem to care about the rules of etiquette all the nobles around us follow, as if they are meaningless to him, too annoying. I feel envious. He may have the personal power to discard them, but I don’t.

  The Crow doesn’t have that strength, either. He is probably a more advanced mage than I ever thought, but he treats the other nobles as equals, not as beneath him. He must have another way to weasel himself out if things go south for him at this gathering. I wonder what.

  “His Imperial Highness Gorkan III,” announces the butler in his deep voice.”

  The ballroom falls into a hush. The violin and drums sputter out into absolute silence. The heavy thud of marching boots echoes through the chamber, making all the nobles turn toward the gilded doors, swiveling their silks and brocades over the marble floor.

  The first to enter are a pair of guards, their armor so polished that it reflects the sunlight shining through the stained windows. They strike the ground with the bottom of their gleaming halberds and turn to the side, opening the way for the man following them.

  He walks in with measured grace as if everyone is beneath him. The noble crowd acknowledges that fact by bowing to him.

  Crunch! Well, everyone except Master Wen. I watch him continue chewing on some roasted bird leg. I find myself sitting at his side, somehow. When did I get here? Did he teleport me again while I was distracted?

  “Relax,” commands the emperor with a smile. “This is only a friendly gathering, after all.”

  Some people resume their conversations. I can see Yuileen sitting next to a woman who looks like an older version of her. The Duchess, probably. She is conversing with a pot-bellied man in silver-grey silk. Strange. I never thought a high-ranked mage could be overweight. Judging by the fact that he seems Peruvian, this must be the Patriarch of the Lin Clan Yuileen spoke about, my imaginary relative. He is one of the few in the room who seems indifferent about the emperor’s presence.

  Said emperor walks toward us, followed by an entourage of stoic-faced supporters. He glides over the marble, parting the crowd before him like waves, like a man who has never questioned his right to rule. His sparkling white cloak trails behind him. Golden embroidery depicting a winged beast with a lion’s head and eagle claws decorate it. The crown upon the man’s brow is a massive gold band covered in twisting filigree that forms leaves motifs encased in tiny sparkling gemstones. A few enormous diamonds rest on each spire, faceted to catch and reflect the faintest ray of light. His sharp gaze wanders over the room, assessing all the gathered nobles before him as if they were pieces on a board only he controls. Then he stops in front of Master Wen and winces.

  The rest of the nobles seem to become aware of my master’s presence for the first time, judging by their gasps and wide-open eyes. Yuileen and Kamoe look at me, sitting at his side with their mouth half-open. Then they close it and start chattering in a hush too low for me to understand from the other side of the room.

  “You! What do you think you are doing, you brute!” exclaims someone in the emperor’s entourage. “Bow in the presence of His Imperial Majesty!”

  “Who? Me?” asks Master Wen, poking between his teeth with a toothpick. “Sure, why not? Protocol and all that nonsense you children love. Right?” Somehow, his bow seems a mockery, more than respectful. “Happy?”

  The emperor’s follower glares at him, his face turning increasingly red. “Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to make that intruder a head shorter!”

  The emperor winces again before walking past us and sitting at the top of the long dinner table. Then, he raises a gloved hand, invoking silence. “It won’t do you any good to try, Arin. I know most of you have never seen him because he barely bothers to attend any social meetings, but that is the Mountain Sage.”

  “What?” stammers the other man, his gaze flickers between the emperor and my master before he suddenly flinches back like a scared cat. “Oh!”

  “Well. Let us get this charade over with,” mutters the emperor. “I have places to be, rebels to crush!” He sighs before turning to Master Wen. “You set up this meeting to announce something, old man. Let us not waste any time.”

  “What? Ah, sure! Master Wen points at me, a beaming smile on his face. “I found my next apprentice.” The air in the room shifts like the hush before a storm that grows into a suffocating intensity as every gaze turns toward me. “You can all stop with that backstabbing mockery and other nonsense you have converted my disciple selection process into.”

  Eyes, sharp as broken glass, cut through the low murmur of conversation, leaving only a cold, crackling silence in their wake. Some mask it well, disguising their envy behind practiced smiles, but others make no such effort. I can see Turstan openly glaring at me. Yuileen and Kamoe, sitting by his side, seem to be the only ones excited by the news. I can see The Crow out of the corner of my eyes. He also seems unbothered, probably expecting me to work with him.

  The rest of the crowd can barely hide their hostility. I gulp. I can almost feel it coil around me, a simmering resentment born of the belief that they are superior and bitter hearts, whispering that I don’t deserve whatever fortune has placed on me. I try to raise my chin and hold my ground, but I know that after today, I won’t be safe anywhere outside Master Wen’s valley. The Crow smiles at me. He knows it, too. He probably thinks I’ll need his help, allowing him to press me into whatever he needs me to do to compensate him like he always has done.

  The emperor sighs. “Who even is this girl? Couldn’t you have taken one of my talented nieces or nephews? Surely, they would merit it more.”

  “Well. That is where you are wrong, boy,” answers Master Wen. “The pampered twat you sent me last century was an utter disappointment. The others were more of the same. Why do you think I even set up this little competition? Hmm? It was to find those with the right amount of potential and determination to have a chance of becoming an immortal.” He turns toward the rest of the room. “That obviously won’t work if you idiots try to intercede on the new generation’s behalf and convert it into a game of which brat has the most money or the best connections.” He looks back towards the emperor. “I was about to contact your grandmother to ask her for a change in our agreement.” He smiles and pats my shoulder with his hand. “But then the competition, the little game I set up, actually worked how it was supposed to for the first time. And what do I see when I come here? You all are grumpy about it.”

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  The emperor scoffs. “Are you saying that girl is more talented than my imperial scions, groomed to become powerful since they were born?” His gaze pierces into me as if I were an insect, a curiosity to dissect. “She is barely even silver rank.”

  Someone audibly gasps. “Only silver rank, he said?”

  “I think so.”

  “Is this a joke? All my children are more talented than that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That is where all you idiots are wrong. You only care about what you can see. You don’t understand someone’s potential,” interjects Master Wen.

  “And what will you do, old man? Coop her up in your valley?” asks the emperor. “She is going to have to leave someday. She has no resources or connections. People will be wary of someone powerful not bound by family blood ties.”

  “And why would I do that? Risk and challenges are the best way to force growth.”

  I wince. Shit!

  “Well, at least when it gets her killed, you will have to take another apprentice, maybe someone useful to the empire,” mutters the emperor.

  Intense gazes fall over me like wolves eyeing a prized stag. I can see The Crow smiling out of the corner of my eye.

  “If that happens, sure. I know the agreement,” acknowledges Master Wen. “But I don’t think something like that will happen. I’ll personally hunt down and eradicate everyone two cultivation stages or more above her who decides to go after her.”

  The wolves look away like chastised dogs.

  “I thought you would say something like that,” says the emperor with a sigh. Then he blinks and looks at me with a frown. “Wait! Two stages? You think that girl can defend herself against a gold rank?”

  “Absolutely!” answers Master Wen with a smile. “I know she already beat the candidate you selected this time in a duel. That Turstan boy.”

  The mentioned youth gasps, his eyes open wide before he shrinks into his seat when everybody looks at him. Then he straightens and raises his chin, pointing at me with an accusing finger. “That’s because she cheated! She used those runes tattooed on her! It wasn’t a fair fight!”

  “Body runes, huh?” mutters the emperor, “interesting choice, but ultimately flawed.”

  “Disgusting!” comments someone sitting at his side.

  What the heck is this? Everyone speaks about me, my choices, and my future and exposes my secrets without asking me for input!

  “Are you an idiot, boy?” asks Master Wen. “There is no such thing as a fair fight in real life. Your cultivation stage is higher than hers. You should have crushed her if you were as talented as you believe you are.” The boy sinks even lower into his seat, trying to hide. Master Wen turns toward the emperor. “Do you see why I’m happy with my new apprentice?”

  “Hmm, maybe. It’s a shame that the girl isn’t a noble, though. She could have been an asset for the empire in the ongoing and coming wars.” He sighs before rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Nobles wouldn’t follow a commoner. I could give her a title. But I can’t elevate her higher than a knight without causing a mess.”

  “We are at war again?” asks Master Wen. “I heard something about some rebels but didn’t think it was serious.”

  “The rebels aren’t the problem,” answers the emperor. “Lord Kellnacht over there managed to infiltrate their ranks. We are about to root them out. They won’t survive this week.” He adjusts his crown. “But Blumen raiders are swarming out of their holes again, and the other empires are always waiting for an opportunity to expand, not that they would succeed, of course.”

  So, that would have been The Crow’s way out if I accused him. He isn’t a rebel. He infiltrated their ranks. Somehow, I doubt it. I grew up watching him. He probably plays both sides. He always squeezes everything he can out of every situation. He creates situations to squeeze out and get more influence. I wouldn’t even put it past him to be the creator of the rebel faction as a tool to gain the emperor’s favor after exposing it and letting it fall.

  Yuileen is gesticulating wildly and pointing toward me, speaking with her mother and the Lin patriarch. The Lin patriarch turns in my direction, his eyes gleaming. Then he stands up and clicks a spoon against his glass to demand silence.

  “Your Imperial Highness, Lords and Ladies. I’m proud to reveal that the girl, the Mountain Sage’s new apprentice, does have noble blood running in her veins. She is one of my Lin clan’s hidden scions. We prepared her from birth for this.”

  They did what now? I almost scoff. The nobles look at me with interest.

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  “I knew someone without backing couldn’t have beaten my niece.”

  “She is a Lin? Are they even allowed to participate? What does it mean for the balance of power in Peruvia if she becomes immortal? Are the Han’s days numbered?

  I can see the black-clad figure of the Han clan’s Patriarch glaring at me. The Lin clan’s Patriarch smiles before waddling toward me. I can see The Crow grimace on the other side of the room. Huh? Could it be that this isn’t in his plans? Is he afraid I may have options that don’t include him?

  The Lin Patriarch stops in front of me and Master Wen. I can feel a barrier fall around us, blocking the crowd’s chatter.

  “Honorable Sage,” greets the Patriarch with a bow.

  Master Wen grunts in acknowledgment. Then he picks up a pastry. The Patriarch turns toward me, rubbing his hands.

  “Very well done, girl! I’m proud of you!” He smiles at me again. “Come to the Lin clan’s compound after this to receive your instructions.”

  “What?” I say, almost choking on a sip of water. “Why should I do that?”

  The Patriarch frowns. “Girl, don’t be ungrateful now. You may be the Sage’s new apprentice, but that doesn’t give you the right to dismiss your family. We invested a lot of resources in your growth!” he admonishes me.

  What did Yuileen tell him? Shit! This situation is so absurd that I can’t contain my laughter. “What are you talking about? I never got any resources from anybody.”

  “Are you mocking me?” The Patriarch glares at me now. “Don’t disrespect your elders, you ungrateful wench! Mind your place!” He leans over the table, his face looming over me.

  “You should remember the same thing, Lin Mo.” Master Wen’s voice is barely louder than a whisper and sweet like honey, but the Lin Patriarch flinches back all the same. “The girl isn’t lying. I have trained her for over a month. I would have noticed if she ever had consumed resources before.”

  The Lin Patriarch blinks, then frowns, looking between me and Master Wen, then briefly toward Yuileen and her mother, before looking back at me. “Interesting,” he mutters. “There must have been some misunderstanding. But I can’t take my word back now without losing face.” He tugs at his sparse beard. “Maybe we can reach a compromise. Hmm?” He points toward the nobles around us. “You need some backing to keep them off your heels, and my clan would gain recognition if one of our scions managed to become the Venerable Mountain’s Sage disciple. I won’t impose anything. But think about it. We can work together.”

  I look up to Master Wen, not knowing what to say.

  “What? Don’t ask me?” He says, still munching on his pastry. “I don’t care about what you do outside the valley.”

  The Lin patriarch smiles at those words. “Think about it, there isn’t a hurry. Here, take this token. It will identify you as an important clan member to every Lin elder you show it.”

  The barrier lifts. The murmur of the rest of the conversations falls over us like water spurting over a broken dam. The Lin Patriarch bows toward Master Wen again before waddling back toward Yuileen’s mother.

  “Are you finished with whatever you needed to talk about?” asks the emperor. He glares at us. Then he sighs. “Well, I suppose a Lin is better than nothing. We may be able to make it work.” His frown seems to indicate that he isn’t happy about the news.

  “Don’t worry about the boy, Minae,” whispers Master Wen toward me, loud enough for half the table to hear. “That boy is only grumpy because he got stuck at the Dao-seeking stage, just like the Lin and Han patriarchs. They are all a step away from becoming immortals but forever unable to take it.” He takes a sip from a wineglass, seemingly forgetting about the rest of the room. “You know, I knew him as a toddler. His grandmother is the real powerhouse behind the throne. We had a fling when we were young and had just achieved immortality. I could have been that boy’s grandfather.” He snickers and shrugs his shoulder, ignoring the scandalized gasps of some of the present nobles. “But then I decided to explore the Underdark, and she got tired of waiting after barely a century.” For some reason, he rolls his eyes like a teenage girl. “I had other priorities back then. I got into a fight with one of their spirit-gods. It took me a few decades to slay it. I am one of the few immortals who has managed a feat like that.”

  Some people gasp audibly. One of the men sitting beside the emperor scoffs. “Decades to slay one of those false gods? Are you even an immortal? A mere nascent-soul stage cultivator can slay them in less than a day.”

  “What nonsense are you talking about, boy?” asks Master Wen. “Who even are you? I don’t think I have seen you before.”

  The man sneers. “I am Imperial Minister Kin Kulin, the empire’s greatest expert on blumen and their dark spirits. I have slain dozens of them myself.”

  Master Wen blinks, then scoffs. “Huh? Incredible. But tell me, have you ever been to The Underdark?”

  “What? Obviously, no.” The man almost seems to flinch back at the idea. “Why would I ever go to such a cesspit?”

  Master Wen bursts out into laughter. “And you say you are an expert? How do you pretend to kill an immortal spirit without going down to their places of worship?”

  “What? But I have slain dozens of them,” insists the man, seeming a bit less sure. The people between us have gone quiet as if they don’t want to miss any detail of the conversation.

  “No, no!” exclaims Master Wen, facepalming. “What you see up here are just their avatars. Everyone knows they will be weak so far from their domains. But killing them doesn’t even cause much harm to the spirit if it is one of the strong ones. They could lose hundreds of them, and they would barely notice.” He leans back into his seat. “You see, those spirits are fascinating creatures. It’s interesting how they are born. It happens when a loose soul becomes attached to a concept instead of entering the wheel of rebirth. It can be any concept: darkness, light, sickness, strength, or whatever variation of something you can imagine. A young spirit is born. You can think of it as a concept with its own will, darkness becoming sentient, for example. The Blumen learned to interact with those living concepts and receive their blessings in exchange for mana that the spirit uses to grow. The more followers a spirit gets, the more blessings it can maintain at the same time. The spirits they call gods have millions of followers. They are so massive that it boggles the mind. Thankfully, they tend to be at war with each other because they compete for the same followers to fuel their growth. They may not have physical bodies, but there are always vicious fights in the Underdark because they can grant a true blessing to any of their followers in a moment whenever they have enough free mana flow. That elevates a mere mortal to a paladin, a shaman or an avatar, someone who rivals the strength of the emperor or the Lin and Han patriarchs close to their sacred grounds. It’s only far away from those sites that they are weak because it is hard to channel mana into people through long distances.”

  “What?” asks a woman, a haunted look on her face. “How do you kill one of those spirits then.”

  “Well, you see. It is hard. Those spirits never fully die unless they run out of mana to hold them together. That means you need to massacre their followers until the last dies or loses faith and turns away from them. For that, you need to go down there, find all their holy sites, wherever they are, and smash them. All while those bastards send swarm after swarm of avatars at you like an angered wasp hive. And the stronger spirits can have hundreds of holy sites in caverns thousands of miles apart. If you don’t find and destroy every last one, they survive. It may weaken them, but they survive. Many immortal cultivators have tried to slay a god, but few have succeeded. Most give up after a few decades.” Silence has fallen over the ballroom. Master Wen looks around. “Well, if there aren’t any more questions, it is time for me to go. I have a disciple to train.”