A new day dawned on a silent Seven Falls Sect.

  The usual early morning rush was nowhere to be found, the main street empty of any merchants or couriers who would usually be setting up their stalls or lugging cargo to shopfronts. Outer Sect disciples scurried like rats along the quiet roads, never emerging from their Alley for any more time than absolutely required, eyes darting back and forth on the lookout. Even Inner Sect disciples, usually untouchable, were huddled together in their groups, all of them rushing out to find tables at the teahouses and restaurants of the greater Sect rather than remain for a single moment longer in the Inner Compound.

  For within the heart of the Seven Falls, a different silence was brewing. Core Disciples stalked along garden paths, head on a swivel as they turned every inch of the Compound over. Elders in their pristine black robes talked quietly among each other, their calm demeanour belying the suffocating weight of their spiritual pressure, which drowned their words to silence outside of their own little bubble. But they couldn’t trap the light itself that illuminated their figures, and it was in the furrowed brows and twisted mouths that one could peek underneath the fa?ade and fathom the sorts of anger that filled these cultivators.

  Less than twelve hours ago, the Sect had mobilised to destroy an enemy, and what could any cultivator of the Seven Falls feel in that circumstance except certainty? With control over the Lifts, roving patrols of blue robed lackeys, and Core Disciples placed at key points to catch any suspicious ne’erdowell, how could they possibly fail?

  But the Seven Falls Sect had not merely failed. They’d been utterly embarrassed, led astray, with their Inner Compound breached by vermin, who had gone on to treat priceless artefacts like toys and left them to sink at the bottom of the Seven Falls. Except for one of those artefacts, of course, that had been incinerated into ash instead.

  Yesterday, the Seven Falls Sect felt certain.

  Now, the Sect felt nothing but apoplectic rage.

  So truthfully, things could not possibly have gone worse, Wenhua Gareth reflected, staring into the face of the Thousand-Toothed Carp in the pond before him. Perhaps if I had died. Though I’m sure some of the clan would consider that a silver lining.

  Wenhua Li would certainly be jumping for joy, but she would merely be the loudest. The rest of the Clan that could be bothered to acknowledge him as more than a servant usually only did so to remind him where he really belonged. Only Mei saw him differently than an up-jumped peasant, but it was a dangerous game to depend entirely on the goodwill of such a volatile girl. It had happened before, when he’d still just been a young boy that served at the Wenhua’s pleasure, and Mei just a young girl who wanted a friend. He’d needed defending then, which Mei had taken to with great enthusiasm.

  But the Young Mistress couldn’t spend every moment around a servant, and so a servant would face retribution in those times where she was nowhere to be seen. It took him growing into his own strength and convincing Mei that he didn’t need her help to escape that perilous cycle of jealousy and envy from those of the Clan that felt he didn’t deserve her. For a moment there, he even thought he would’ve been able to join one of the branch families and truly relax.

  So he did his best to live up to the impossible ideals of the Clan, whether they were obstacles set by smirking seniors or thoughtless challenges put in place by a woman who didn’t even see them as hurdles to begin with. On his sixteenth birthday all his achievements were overshadowed by the Young Mistress accomplishing the Soul Anchoring Step, and for the briefest moment he almost thought he was free. And then, all those achievements were brought under a paralysing spotlight, as she proposed to him with the first breath she took outside the cultivation chamber.

  The greatest talent of the Wenhua truly could do anything she wanted, of course; it was left to everyone else to pick up the pieces, grumbling and glaring at whoever they could find to pin the blame on. And so Gareth, elevated to the main family, found himself the target of all the Clan’s ire for everything that the Clan couldn’t blame their darling child for.

  Nothing really changed; he still handled Mei as best as he could, experience borne of years giving him the necessary levers to keep the Young Mistress on the right track. And with his new position came new privileges, not least of which was a genuine sense of equality, even if it was only Mei who deigned to offer it to him. But if there was one place where he still could not dissuade her, it was when she felt that he was being insulted.

  Such as the awful display that had landed Gareth in this entire mess.

  “Beloved! Did you not see that? Did you not notice the piece of trash who dared disturb you?”

  He represented the Wenhua with finesse and grace, and saw to preserving the Clan’s honour, even when the Clan itself acted honourlessly.

  Isn't it ever the strength of the weak, to bear the weakness of the strong? Gareth sighed, tearing out a small portion of grass on the ground next to him and tossing it out into the water. If I can be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of it. What do you think, honourable creature?

  The fish smiled, iridescent teeth rotating around its maw in a hypnotic pattern, before its mouth snapped shut and it dashed back below the surface with a small splash. Much like the rustling of a shaking bush, the faint whisper of oiled wood sliding along its groove was enough notice for the fish to run from a greater predator. One that even Gareth could recognise, going by the way the hairs on his neck had begun to stand at attention to the sound of the footsteps along the path behind him.

  Gareth turned to face the Tiger of the Seven Falls. The man stood tall, dressed in golden robes trimmed with deep black thread to signify his role as Core Sect Elder. Carefully trimmed sideburns lined his face, the faint silver hairs striping through the only sign of the Tiger’s true age. That, and the eyes of a predator that had seen the world turn a million times, and would see it turn for a million more.

  Clan Head Wenhua Sheng stared down at his adopted son with as much emotion as one would hold gazing at an ant. “We will hear your answers.”

  Gareth bowed low, head touching the grass of the courtyard. “By your will, Father.”

  The Clan Head re-entered the room, Gareth quickly following after him, sliding the door shut behind him before turning to face the chamber.

  With the door shut, the only light in the chamber were the torches that flickered along the walls. No script-lights adorned the ceiling of this room; it had been built long before their invention. Wooden walls gleamed with the polish of thousands of years, supported by arches intricately carved with the history of a Sect, of all its greatest heroes and villains. And beneath their own depictions those heroes sat, their villains left only as forgotten dust and etched memories. Bearing the black of their rank, the Elders of the Seven Falls Sect lined the chairs at the sides of the room, scrutinising Gareth’s every motion.

  It was those at the very front that Gareth had the most to worry about, however. The Council of Elders were the foremost cultivators of the Sect, and there was no pretense to age or infirmity among any of them; one and all they appeared to be no older than forty, even though that many decades had come and gone before they’d last been so young.

  From his left, the Master of the Compound, Shin Tsung, who was responsible for the sanctity of the Sect’s heart. He looked down his long nose at Gareth with a frown, glancing towards the door as if to throw Gareth out of it.

  Next to Shin Tsung sat a familiar face; Umzuli of the Spearpoint Clan, the only other to wear blue, gave Gareth a solemn nod. The dark-skinned man looked out of place in the room, filled with so many native to the Seven Falls region, but he bore it with a practiced ease, arms crossed over his chest as he balanced on his undersized chair. The smallest measure of that ease seemed to flow into Gareth, as he turned to face the last of the sitting Council.

  Unfortunately, he was once again met with contempt, as Haiyang Chen, Master of the Gates, glared at Gareth as if the young disciple had personally betrayed him. Considering the Elder’s role in securing who could enter and who could leave, perhaps he had.

  Two chairs had been left unoccupied. Wenhua Sheng sat in one, placing himself at the centre of the Council, now regally staring down at Gareth.

  The last chair remained empty, and the specks of dust on it whispered that it had been empty for a long time.

  Gareth kept his head forward, eyes fixed on the horizon even as he came to a halt at the centre of the room. He slowly knelt in place before. “I have answered the call of the Seven Falls Sect. How may this dutiful disciple aid his elders?”

  “Dutiful, he says,” Shin Tsung to his left muttered. “Ten million yuan shattered on the rocks or up in smoke, and yet he claims-”

  “The boy was the first to point fingers for the disappearance of the Ruby Tears,” another Elder from behind the Council waved a hand in Gareth’s direction. “Why did we take his word for it? Surely someone else would’ve been better to investigate this. Now, my lad Weiyu, there’s a good cultivator-”

  “Your Weiyu almost self-immolated attempting the Soul Anchoring Step! And now he struts about in gold as if he’s already wearing black! In my day he’d still be dressed in-”

  “Silence.” The Tiger of the Seven Falls spoke, and the back-benchers fell into line. “The humiliation we have faced will not be aided by heaping on further shame. We have a witness, and we will hear his words.”

  Someone in the back scoffed quietly. “As if a Wenhua will face justice.”

  “If the failure lies with young Gareth before us, then he will bear the blame,” Sheng did not disagree.

  After all, I’m no Wenhua.

  “The alert was raised yesterday, twenty minutes after the seventh hour, and fifteen after the discovery that the Ruby Tears had been stolen from the Hospital,” Sheng continued. “It was at this time that Wenhua Gareth reported the theft by a suspected demonic cultivator, who had absconded with eleven of the pills we had in reserve. Gareth.”

  Gareth bowed. “The Outer Disciple known as Ryan has been with the Sect for a period of three years. He had reached the Second Step within the first six months of his arrival-”

  “So quickly?” Another Elder interrupted. “A common exodite accomplishing that on the basic stipend? I can hardly believe it.”

  “You can hardly believe that anyone would beat your grandson! Embarrassing enough that it took him a year with you shoving pills down his throat-”

  Gareth shuddered momentarily as Shin Tsung’s aura stalked throughout the room, barely remaining standing as the pressure of a Cultivator on the Fifth Step weighed down on him. The black-robed cultivator who had spoken, however, was even worse off; Elder only by virtue of age rather than accomplishment, they had outright collapsed back into their chair, head lolling back.

  No one spoke as Shin Tsung drummed his fingers on the wood of his own chair, looking around the room for any other who would dare interject. Haiyang Chen had his arms crossed with a smug look, as if he were the one to do the suppressing. Umzuli gave Gareth a slight smile. And Sheng nodded at Gareth once more.

  “Despite this growth, Ryan soon plateaued as his stipend expired. In the time since, he’s behaved more like a typical Outer Disciple, performing what jobs he can throughout the Sect and saving what yuan he can. Notably, he became one of the longest living assistants to Doctor Lei Zhixin.” Gareth paused, waiting for the Elders to cease shifting at his words. “Beyond this, there are some conflicting descriptions of his character, both before and after his stipend ran out.”

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  Shin Tsung snorted. “You speak of that other Outer Disciple’s report.”

  “That was one part of it. I am unsure of its worth,” Gareth admitted. “Outer Disciple Bolin may have already been performing to our suspicions, and his testimony since has been…erratic.”

  When the alert had originally gone out, there had been mention of an award for any that had any information on Ryan’s activities. As it was, only one disciple came forward with more than sheer gossip or an unfortunately apprehended lookalike; one of his neighbours, a man named Bolin who instantly denounced Ryan as an oppressive monster that saw fit to crush anyone who dared inconvenience him. It hardly matched the nervous, defensively polite disciple that Gareth had first met, but with Gareth’s suspicions he’d been willing to take whatever he could get.

  Of course, every word was now worthless considering the Outer Disciple was convinced that he was haunted by the Wailing Misty Ghost An Wei.

  “That is the least of our issues here,” Haiyang Chen proclaimed, glaring at Gareth. “After all, this was hardly the first deranged report. Perhaps all of us should reconsider how much faith we should put in the words of the young disciple before us.”

  Gareth blinked. “Honoured Master, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You claimed that Ryan is a demonic cultivator,” Haiyang Chen said. “An Outer Disciple, a demonic cultivator.” He chuckled, and several other Elders followed. Sheng gave them a glance, but otherwise said nothing.

  “Respectfully, honoured Master,” Gareth bowed again, “The container’s shards in the morgue where I had last left his body led me to believe that he was directly connected. And to accomplish such a feat as to steal the Ruby Tears from right under the noses of an honoured Doctor and my beloved wife is a feat that no ordinary Outer Disciple could accomplish.”

  “Not without aid,” an Elder hidden in shadow pointed out. “Why was that hypothesis dismissed so easily?”

  Why indeed. “Most I spoke to said that Ryan was reserved and isolated, if one even knew about him at all. Those with more to say were only hostile, such as Bolin, and-” Gareth hesitated, “and the Honoured Librarian.”

  “You don’t believe that last part,” Umzuli spoke for the first time. “Why?”

  “...No, Elder Umzuli, I do not,” Gareth admitted. “He had behaved like he hated Ryan, but when I raised the matter of Ryan being a demonic cultivator, he became furious.”

  An Elder from right behind Umzuli laughed. “Of course the Demon Ape would go wild at that!”

  The door slammed open. Sheng already stood next to it, his face etched from stone, even as his qi roiled with barely constrained fury. “Elder Tian Chou,” he said very quietly into the silence. “You may leave. We will speak later on your lack of respect.”

  No one said a word as the named Elder rose from his seat, the lines of laughter now creasing into worry as he stared around him. Gareth could spot the frozen smiles on the expressions of other Elders who did not dare to return Tian Chou’s gaze, focused instead on wiping at their faces and looking down at the ground.

  Tian Chou left the room, and the door closed behind him with a soft finality.

  Yun had told me to ask about it, Gareth thought, watching as Sheng crossed the room once more at a slower pace. Now, I’m not so sure, if that’s the response I can expect.

  Wenhua Sheng retook his seat, exhaling slowly. “Let us continue. Head Librarian Yun appeared to have some manner of connection to this Ryan, and yet pretends otherwise? He couldn’t have directly assisted the Outer Disciple in the theft, but perhaps he aided him in other ways. I will speak to the Head Librarian personally. Who else?”

  “There’s that Doctor Lei,” Shin Tsung muttered.

  Haiyang Chen snorted. “The Witch Doctor hardly needs to steal his own stock.”

  Sheng shook his head firmly. “ For all his faults, he is a loyal member of the Sect. It must have been someone else.”

  “Perhaps the junior Doctor,” Haiyang Chen asked. “He was the last one to hold it, no?”

  “As young Gareth had mentioned, the Doctor treating Wenhua Li immediately answered to my daughter,” Sheng rejected the possibility. “If he had been involved, then she would know, and act. Someone else.”

  “Honoured Elders…” The Council all turned at Gareth’s interruption. “I beg pardon, but is my initial suspicion so impossible, to be dismissed outright?”

  To Gareth, it had seemed obvious. As a young child, he had been scared with stories of demonic cultivators; humans possessed by unnatural powers that desired nothing more than the taste of human flesh, preferably that of young servant boys. Perhaps an exaggeration, invented by his tormentors in the Clan, but who was he to doubt a cultivator?

  Even as he’d grown, and his robes had gone from plain browns to smooth blues, the stories remained. And the whispers in the Inner Sect no longer spoke of something that ate your flesh, but your very soul. The storytellers now said; beware the false promises of godhood, or tricks that would lead you blindly over the edge. You will lose your humanity, and be banished from the Heavens forevermore.

  “I apologise if I have stepped beyond the bounds of my own knowledge,” Gareth said, bowing again. “But Ryan’s growth in strength between our first and second encounter took him from the start of the Second Step to nearly level with me. This was even after I’d dealt him a fatal wound in our first exchange, and I personally carried his body to the morgue after the second. He didn’t even appear worried about dying a third time when we met again in the Hangar, only that he’d be forced to stay here. Surely my hypothesis is reasonable, in the face of all this?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Wenhua Sheng instantly denied Gareth. “And the reason is simple. Umzuli, what was your thought on this Outer Disciple’s power?”

  “Impressive,” Umzuli stated. “For a cultivator standing at the beginning of the Second Step, he was able to channel the Seven Falls Stance in its entirety. That level of qi control is to be lauded.”

  “I see.” Wenhua Sheng sighed. “Gareth, there is a truth that hasn’t been revealed to you, not for lack of trust but simply for lack of advancement, one irrelevant for any who hasn’t taken the Fourth Step. As such, I will tell you now; no demonic cultivator exists below the fourth Step.”

  None? Gareth paused, considering Ryan’s actions once more. The willingness to fight to the death, the careless attitude so unlike his previous actions, the way he hadn’t been all there in their final confrontation… “If not a demonic cultivator-”

  ‘Then still a thief and saboteur,” Sheng declared. “Your warning may have been given without thought or full knowledge, but it was still clearly necessary considering a mere Outer Disciple was able to so thoroughly breach our defenses. Master Shin is confident that some artefact allowed him to breach the wards.”

  Shin Tsung grimaced. “I would almost wish it were a demonic cultivator instead. If a ward-breaker ended up in a grey’s hands, then it is certainly the fault of the Librarian. He oversteps himself.”

  “As I said,” the Tiger of the Seven Falls repeated, “I will handle the matter personally.”

  Some artefact? Ryan was dressed in commoner’s rags when I saw him, the only thing he had was the same necklace I’d seen him wear on our first duel. Gareth opened his mouth, and paused. But they’re convinced. And they’re sure about him not being a demonic cultivator. But it doesn’t explain that look in his eye, as if he was seeing right past me. Something is still missing-

  “That still leaves the Script Wings,” Gareth looked up as Shin Tsung turned a glare his way. “Half a million yuan in pills is an annoyance, but losing our transport fleet is going to cost us more than coin. What are the chances that this Outer Disciple only chose this course of action due to the extra scrutiny at the Lifts?”

  Ah. I was wondering why Sheng was giving me face about the warning, despite being wrong. Gareth hid a bitter smile. It’s just the minimum cushioning for taking the blame for this all. There goes my stipend.

  The rest of the meeting progressed as he expected; Shin Tsung and Haiyang Chen worked together to lay the blame at Gareth’s feet for the entire mess. Wenhua Sheng, in a display of neutrality and fairhandedness that would surely reinforce the Wenhua’s image of premier Clan, was content to let it happen.

  A few hours later, with binding promises and new chains of accountability wrapped around him, Gareth returned to the pond. He picked at the grass absentmindedly, watching as the fish swam by. Ever the strength of the weak… the Inner Disciple sighed. “I’m so tired.”

  “It has been a challenging few days,” Umzuli agreed.

  Gareth started, ripping up an entire chunk of turf in his hands. “Elder Umzuli. My apologies, I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Few do!” The blue-robed Elder agreed, taking a seat on the grass next to Gareth. “I am hard to notice when I wish not to be.”

  “Of course, Elder Umzuli,” Gareth said, eyeing the titanic cultivator at his side. “Was there anything I could do for you? I must admit, my time may be limited in the future.” My stipend gone, my hours now dedicated to patrols or guard duty, with hardly the time to eat, and certainly none to spend with Mei.

  Gareth carefully didn’t think about whether that was purposeful. It hardly mattered; if Mei wanted to spend time with him, then she’d just join him during his work, disregarding her own cultivation to do so if she wished.

  Just another thing for Sheng to blame him for. Another reason for Sheng to get rid of him, when the time was right.

  “Yes, your new responsibilities,” Umzuli hummed. “The Elders are quick to find someone to blame when they fail to uphold their own.”

  Gareth shivered, glancing around the empty courtyard. “Honoured Elder, if it’s alright with you I would much prefer to simply move on, and learn my lesson.”

  “What lesson? Hmph.” The Elder turned to face Gareth fully, a frown on the giant man’s face. “There is no need to learn such a worthless lesson as to take responsibility for the failings of others. You made the right decision, and immediately worked to secure the Sect’s best interests. That is worthy of praise, not punishment!”

  “What would you have me do?” Gareth asked bitterly. “I cannot argue against the Council’s decisions. I will not gainsay the word of my Clan Head. What option is available to me here?”

  Umzuli was quiet for a moment, peering at Gareth, before clicking his tongue. “I see. You feel sorry for yourself, for the circumstances you feel you must abide. But you are a Cultivator, young Gareth; you need not heed anyone’s command but your own.”

  Gareth stared at Umzuli. “You believe that I should ignore the will of the Sect and my own father-in-law’s command? Pardon me, Honoured Elder, but-”

  “When I was a boy, I had foolishly walked beyond my home’s borders into the wastelands,” Umzuli interrupted. “In my adventure, I managed to fall into the nest of a dangerous beast, and barely escaped with my life. When I returned home, my family punished me for my foolishness, and bade me to never leave the walls again. What do you think I did, Gareth?”

  Gareth blinked. “You left them behind?”

  “No!” Umzuli glared at the boy. “I left once more, to hunt that beast down. Better armed and armoured, with traps to bait it and the tools to set fire to its lair, where it had laid a clutch of a hundred eggs. For if I had left it alone, it would have eventually set off in search of food for its young. And it would have found my home, my family, as that meal.”

  “You preempted it,” Gareth muttered, connecting the dots. “You mean for me to chase down Ryan to prevent the same danger befalling the Sect. But you had all said that he wasn’t a demonic cultivator.”

  “He is not,” Umzuli confirmed. “But the Sect now searches for whoever was his ally, turning over every stone and interrogating every passerby for whatever secrets they hold. I believe it would be easier to simply go to the source.”

  Gareth stood and began to pace. “Of course. He doesn’t have a Script Wing, and even if he survived the Falls then he could not have gone far. We can catch up to him, and ask him-” Ask him why he’d insisted on that second duel, why he’d tolerated the first, why he’d been so eager to leave, why he thought he could- “-ask him why,” the young cultivator finished lamely.

  “Very well. And I shall accompany you,” Umzuli declared. “When shall we leave?”

  Gareth paused. “I have my first assigned patrol in an hour.”

  “Ah.” Umzuli tilted his head, as if to consult the angle of the sun. “So, now?”

  Gareth considered it, before allowing himself a small chuckle. Ah, to the Hells with it. “Yeah. Let’s get goin’ quick before they notice.”

  Thirty minutes later, the Lifts descended with an Elder and Inner Disciple onboard.

  Two days later, a body washed up on the shore of the First Son.