Chapter 783- A Harsh Reality
Her eyes, the sweep, the quick, professional sweep of his body, his robe, his bearing, was there. The assessment, the physical assessment, was there. He was handsome. Annoyingly so. His face, the golden skin, the sharp features, the gold-crimson eyes, was beautiful. His body, beneath the imperial robe, was clearly muscular. His bearing, the absolute, relaxed, imperial bearing, was there.
But her expression, the disinterest, the forced disinterest, was maintained. Her thoughts, internal, were elsewhere.
’Brother Mu. I hope he is alright. He was so agitated when he heard the news. If this emperor discovers him...’
The thought, the worried thought of a woman who had a secret ally, a secret brother-in-arms, a man she trusted more than her own family, was there. Her eyes, briefly, flickered. Toward the sky, toward the mountains, toward where she knew Shen Mu was hiding.
’I will not let this old man ruin everything.’
Emperor Yun, his kind eyes, the sly smile forming, was looking between his daughter and Tianlong. The thought, the political, opportunistic thought of a father who saw an alliance in the making, was there.
’He is interested in women. How about marrying my daughter to him? The link between the branch family and the main family. The political advantage. The protection. If Yuexin marries Tianlong, our province’s standing—’
"Yuexin," Emperor Yun said. His voice was warm. Paternal. "Come. Greet Emperor Tianlong."
The princess, her composure, her mask, was there. She stepped forward. Her bow, the formal, practiced bow of a princess, was there.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," she said. Her voice was cool. Polite. The temperature of a woman who was being polite and nothing more. "Welcome to our province."
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes on her, nodded. The acknowledgment, the same minimal acknowledgment he gave everyone, was there. Nothing more. No special attention. No lingering gaze. No interest.
This, oddly, irritated the princess. The lack of interest, the absolute, dismissive lack of interest from a man who was rumored to collect women like coins, was there. Her ego, the princess ego that had been stroked and catered to her entire life, was poked.
Emperor Yun, gesturing to the empress, said, "Empress Lihwa will show you to the guest quarters. Please, make yourself at home."
The empress, her mature face, her composed smile, stepped forward. Her eyes, on Tianlong, the brief, involuntary widening of her eyes, was there. The surprise, the physical, involuntary surprise of a woman who had expected an old, lecherous man and found... this, was there.
He looked like a model. His face, his body, his bearing — all of it, the kind of beauty that the upper realm’s immortals wrote poetry about. The empress, her composure, her mask, was there. But beneath it, the flush, the slight, barely visible flush on her mature cheeks, was there.
"Please follow me, Your Majesty," Empress Lihwa said. Her voice was melodic. Controlled. The practiced voice of a woman who had been empress for twenty years.
She led. Through the palace, through the corridors, through the jade and crystal halls. Tianlong, behind her, walked. His gold-crimson eyes, on her back, on her hips, on the sway of her emerald robes, were there. The assessment, the male, predatory assessment, was brief. Professional.
His eyes, returning forward, held the boredom. The same, composed, slightly bored expression.
The empress, glancing back, the brief, stolen glance, caught his eyes. The gold-crimson, the calm, the absolute calm, was there. She looked away. The flush, the slightly deeper flush, was there.
~~ The Mountain — Bamboo and Sword
The mountain, the remote peak covered in bamboo, was quiet. The wind, the spiritual wind that carried denser qi at higher altitudes, blew. The bamboo, the green stalks, swayed. The sound, the rustling, the gentle, rhythmic rustling of bamboo in the wind, was there.
Shen Mu sat. In the lotus position, hovering, his body three feet off the ground. His sword, the plain, unadorned steel blade, lay across his knees. His eyes, closed, were there. The meditation, the deep, spiritual meditation of a Soul Formation peak cultivator pushing toward Body Integration, was there. The qi, the spiritual energy, flowing through his meridians, through his dantian, through his spiritual core, was steady. Controlled. Hidden.
The sword qi, the ambient, passive sword qi that radiated from him during meditation, was there. The bamboo, the stalks nearest to him, had faint cuts. Invisible to the naked eye, but there. The sword intent, the condensed, focused, prodigy-level sword intent, was so intense that it cut the air itself.
"Brother!"
The voice, the young, female, energetic voice, broke the meditation. Shen Mu’s eyes opened. His gold-flecked brown eyes, the eyes that were not gold-crimson but held their own intensity, were there.
The woman, the young woman, arrived. She was not the princess. She was his younger sister. Shen Ling. Sixteen years old. Her face, round, pretty, her eyes bright, her hair in twin braids. Her cultivation, Foundation Establishment, was modest. Her energy, the boundless, irrepressible energy of a teenage girl, was there.
She landed. Her feet, on the bamboo-covered ground, were there. Her face, the excited, flushed face of a girl with news, was there.
"Brother!" she said. Her voice was breathless. "He has arrived! Emperor Tianlong! He is here!"
Shen Mu, his face, the controlled expression, was there. The mask, the calm, unbothered mask of a man who had known this for days, was there.
"I know," he said. His voice was quiet. "What happened?"
"The emperor sent out invitations!" Shen Ling said. Her voice was excited. The fan-girl excitement of a teenager who had heard the stories, was there. "A banquet! A celebration! In honor of Emperor Tianlong’s arrival! Everyone is invited! The ministers, the generals, the sect leaders, and..."
Her eyes, the bright, excited eyes, were on her brother.
"And the royal family! Including the princess! Brother, this is—"
"Stop," Shen Mu said. His voice was firm. Not harsh. Firm. The tone of an older brother reining in an enthusiastic younger sister. "Do not think of anything. He is just a bastard."
Shen Ling, her bright eyes, the pout, was there. The expression of a teenage girl who had been told her crush was a bastard.
"You are just jealous," she said. Her voice was teasing. The playful, sisterly teasing of a girl who knew how to push her brother’s buttons. "Everyone says he looks like an immortal! Handsome and powerful and—"
"I said stop," Shen Mu said. His voice was sharper. The edge, the real, genuine edge of a man who remembered dying by this man’s hand, was there.
Shen Ling, the pout, the retreat, was there. She knew. Not about the past life. Not about the memories. But she knew her brother’s moods. And this mood, this sharp, tense mood, was not to be pushed.
Shen Mu, his eyes, on the bamboo, on the wind, on the distant palace visible from the peak, was there. His internal thoughts, the racing, calculating, planning thoughts, were there.
’An invitation. A banquet. A celebration.’
’He has finally started his game to ruin our lives. I recall — the same thing happened in the past life. But a bit different. In the past life, Emperor Tianlong arrived and played these childish games. The celebration, the banquet, the display of power. But in the past life, I was already a grown cultivator. I confronted him directly. And I died.’