Hua spent most of the next sichen entertaining her sisters, a full two hours of savouring their simple joys and simpler arguments. She had missed them terribly. Would always miss them. Had life been kinder, Hua would have days and months with them, uninterrupted by increasingly aggressive messages from a growing number of Elders.


    “Are you sure they won’t try to get revenge against you?” Song asked, looking up with wide eyes once the sixth messenger was rejected.


    Meiling elbowed her twin who hissed. “Idiot, they were never going to be happy about this. Sister is stealing their hopes and dreams right in front of them.”


    Song elbowed her back. “Call me an idiot again and I will drown you!”


    “Fine, you have the intelligence of a salted slug.”


    “I’ve met dog shit smarter than you.”


    Hua separated them before they got to drowning one another. How they survived whenever she was gone was a total mystery. The first time she’d left them for an extended trip, she had expected to find the estate in ashes. That she found the clan still functioning was a miracle. Though, she had found them living with different relatives, so maybe they didn’t get along as Hua hoped.


    After a poorly received reminder that they needed to train and temper their bodies, Hua finally chose to handle the binding ritual. She found one of her more formal sets of robes, the kind she wore for yearly ceremonies. Silken with blue inner layers. Bound her chest and minimised the profile it would make. In her brother’s room, she found an outer cloak that was a black so dark it seemed to steal the light. Rimmed in silver, it depicted the phases of the moon across it. Her jewellery was demure, only the simpler pieces. Her hair was tied in a high knot, one you wouldn’t consider surprising from any boy. It was an ambiguous enough arrangement that she garnered surprised looks from the clansmen she passed on her way to the Main Hall.


    Only the temple held greater defences than the Main Hall but with the soldiers and Cultivators, the Main Hall was more secure in practice. If it fell, they would lose the Bronze Cauldron, and they would die to the man to protect that. So, they stacked the numbers as heavily as possible in their favour should it come to that. It hadn’t yet but paranoia ran deep.


    Waiting in front of the Main Hall’s entrance were the Elders in ceremonial garb. Not a one looked pleased. Good. Let them show every single member of their clan milling about the Main Hall that they waited on her. Even if no one else knew what was happening, they would know something was occurring. For this many Elders to be waiting about in their formal regalia it could be nothing short of a matter of clan security.


    To make the Elders wait on her was a dangerous statement. She was alienating them further. But what did that matter when her new position had been built on quicksand and filled with scorpions? She’d sink and be stung no matter what she chose. So, she would begin as she would proceed. If she was to lead, then she would lead her clan. Hua would be no one’s puppet Lord. She would not have someone pulling her strings from the shadows.


    “So, the girl has finally arrived after wasting this elder’s time,” said Elder Shenyu in his lyrical voice, recently famous to Hua for his tendency to leave bastards lying around. His large hands were folded at his waist, fingers interlocked so tightly together they were shaking.


    She simply watched the elder with her golden eyes. Allowed her disdain and fury to emerge past gold, her temptation to unhinge her jaws and rip his throat out flashing like the sunrise over the mountain. As her grandmother said, a little kinslaying was allowed each generation. Hua would very happily fill the quota if it meant no more bastards.


    “Shall we begin, Elders,” Hua said after elder Shenyu twitched, “or will we waste more of your time?”


    Hua offered no chance to respond and entered the Main Hall, her exacting steps echoing loudly for all to hear. If he found the insult too great to bear, he could strike her down and live with the consequences. But each day he did not would be another day he proved himself craven. A man’s pride could only be harmed so far before he retaliated. A dangerous equilibrium that would eventually break, but it would be worth it. Those that saw her command the Elders would spread word of it. They would say Hua spoke and the Elders obeyed. If it was said enough, eventually people would listen to her before the elders.


    Of the full council, only four Elders would join her today. Five if one counted her Grandmother, the Lady Xiao Jiu, the oldest and most powerful Cultivator in the Clan not trapped on their deathbed. The three foremost members of the Shen Generation, Shenhou and the siblings Shenyi and Shenyu. And finally, Liao Qiang, who was the blood of her Father’s older brother. The same elder brother who tried to poison Hua’s father. Who Hua’s father had struck down in the seemingly common act of fratricide that occurred in their clan each generation.


    She would lead them to the formation room whose doors stood on the far side of the hall. Hua did not know what lay behind those doors in any way beyond the theoretical. The formation room, obviously, but everyone stayed silent on what it held. She was proud to be ignorant in this case. Security held; Clan secrets guarded. And now she would become privy to what her brother had experienced.


    “We will inspect the formations,” she declared to the door guards. “Open the way.”


    Even if she couldn’t yet give that order, she trusted her grandmother to give whatever gesture would command them to obey.


    The two guards stamped the butts of their spears against the floor once, then twice, each as loud as a thunderclap in the silent hall. The door lit up and opened quietly. Instantly, she was hit by a wave of ozone. Far more pleasant than choking on the stench of rotting mortals and the smoke of their burnt dreams. Beneath familiar ozone that was a layer of wetness.


    Beyond the doors was a cavernous dimness. She went headlong into the dark. It was not pitch black but a murky grey that held a set of wide stairs that curved into obscurity, narrowing further down. There were sparks that were not truly there, impressions of lightning that she followed. A pathway laid out for those with cursed eyes to see. Hua took it one steady step at a time.


    “Fool child,” one of the Elders muttered as she descended.


    Behind her, light flooded the staircase. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Elder Qiang holding a torch, apprehension crossing her features as she met Hua’s gaze in the dark. Hua blinked once, then twice, slow as an amused leopard.


    “Can you not see without that torch?” she asked once the other Elders drew closer to Qiang.


    Before any could answer, Hua turned around and continued down, fast into the darkness. Compared to the darkness that had stolen away Qing, there was no dark that could cause her fear or doubt. She had already suffered the greatest loss.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Coolness greeted her fingers as she traced the rough-hewn stone walls. Moisture as well. There was no dust. That bothered Hua. Who had been coming down here so much that it could be cleaned?


    There was no door sealing the formation chamber. The stairs simply levelled out and past one last bend, a great column stole took up her vision. It was black as black could be. A smooth surface that showed two pinpricks of bright gold. Reflected them, she realised, seeing the subtle glow of her eyes in the dark.


    The perfectly cylindrical column was at the centre of the strangely small room. She recognised the material it was made from. Lodestone. A common find in the region the Liao Clan controlled. But one this Qi-conductive was rare, precious. It stood twice Hua’s height and thrummed with so much electrical energy that her teeth hurt and caused a spiking pain behind her eyes. Around its base was a ring of dust evenly distributed with neither hill nor valley, growing less dense the further away from the lodestone’s centre. That explained where the dust had gone. Drawn in by the lodestone. Though why this occurred, she could not say.


    Soon after, the elders reached her. The small room felt cloyingly small. Hua did not want to approach the lodestone to make space for herself because she wouldn’t be able to help herself from drawing in the great volume of Qi in it. It was anathema to even think of using it as a cultivation aid, but greed still licked up Hua’s spine. The lodestone pillar was glorious. Hua loved it. Desired its power as any true child of lightning would. Wanted that power to fill up another meridian, even one as endlessly deep as her seventh.


    She breathed calmly and made certain her dantian was stationary, her Qi unmoving. Not a hint of her Qi could seep out of her because if it did, she might not be able to hold it back from reaching out.


    The longer she looked, the more she could see the strange ribbons that led to places above ground. They were… not colours, but something that gave the impression of colour. Or formed an association in her mind.


    “The formations are anchored to five other locations,” she murmured. The number felt important. Five lesser anchors attached to the greater whole.


    “How do you know that, girl?”


    “Can you not see what is right in front of you?”


    Shenhou huffed, crossing his arms. “Liao Furen, stop telling this child our clan secrets. What would the Yu have done to acquire that information? A child would have broken against their interrogators.”


    “This old lady has never spoken of the formations to anyone younger than an Elder of the Shen Generation. Not even Elder Qiang or her fellow of the same generation. Even I am uncertain where she drew that knowledge from. Perhaps her brother. Perhaps the Patriarch. Perhaps no one at all.”


    “Am I expected to believe she can see what no other can? That she can sense the anchors when even our Patriarch cannot. Preposterous. Girl, tell us where you came across that information.”


    “Believe what you will, I cannot stop you from ignoring the truth.” Hua turned away from his studied outrage and looked to Elder Qiang, the only one she might like amongst the Council of Elders. “Would the former heir not have been attached to the formations? What will happen with him?”


    “Former,” Shenyu hissed, furious. “Your brother is—”


    His older brother, Shenyi, grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently. “We are not going to brawl in the formation chamber and certainly not with a child. Just explain if you could.”


    If Shenyu’s words had been cold before, now they could have left her fingers frostbitten. “Our honoured heir Weijiang was removed from the formations before he left. It was a matter of security. Anyone venturing into foreign territory can’t risk having those secrets exposed. With great discernment, one can view secrets from a corpse. Just the alignment of standard Meridians can give away dangerous information.”


    So why do you allow bastards to run around unattended if you care so much about security? One day, your bastards will be used against us if they haven’t already.


    Hua did not speak these words as Elder Shenyi was right; fighting in the formation chamber was foolish.


    “You believe someone can see the very soul but doubt my ability to see the other anchors?” she asked instead.


    “One is a truth verified by centuries of work done by healers, mystics, and diviners. The other is a story you made up.”


    Hua narrowed her eyes and looked deeper. It was easier, here, to see it with the lodestone acting as an amplifier. The connection to him. And from him, another location on the mountain.


    “You are tied to the northern anchor,” she announced confidently.


    The elder flinched. “You cannot know that.”


    “And yet I do. What other reason can there be but that my vision is greater? But such matters are not why we are here. Let us begin. The sooner I can be bound to the formations, the sooner my work can begin.”


    “We can question her later,” Elder Qiang said before anyone complained. “The formations must be anchored regardless of any other objections.”


    The five took up positions around the room, forming a pentagon with a bias to the northeast, the direction associated with the Trigram Zhen. Three elders in the northerly direction like an arrowhead, whilst two elders in the south formed a straight line or perhaps a base. Each of the five was connected to one of the distant anchors and through them, the central lodestone.


    At an unseen signal, Qi rose in unison from the elders holding the five anchors.


    The threads brightened, grew thicker and more energetic. They intensified and Hua finally understood what the colours meant. They were markers of elemental Qi. Fire to red, to embers and oak leaves in summer. Water was the greenish shade of the Liao River, but it was also the blue of the kingfisher diving into the sea. Metal a pitch black that matched the lodestone but was also the glint of a blade in the sun. Earth was the brown of soil after the first rains, the brown of petrichor, of new life. Wood was almost white, the shade of the flesh beneath the bark, the colour of milk sap that spilt from new wounds.


    Grandmother in a southern position was given to metal whilst Qiang formed the other point of the southerly line, forming a base of water and metal. Shenyu, Shenyi, and Shenhou given to fire, wood, and earth respectively, forming the northern arrowhead. Every colour was just an association of the Qi she was sensing. Fire was strongly yang aligned while wood was its weak counterpart and earth was neutral. Water and metal were the yin-aligned counterparts. The male elders producing the yang elements were matched in Qi by those making the yin elements, by Elder Qiang and her grandmother. The former sweating as she drew forth copious amounts of Qi. Balancing one another despite the difference in their Cultivation.


    And finally, Hua, who realised now what had to be done. Her place in the balancing act. She had done this before. What was a trigram but the splitting and rejoining of Qi in specific orders?


    She approached the lodestone. Static embraced her as loving as any embrace from her fragmented memories of a mother. When Hua laid hands upon it, every bone in her hands and arms shook. She groaned but forced herself to endure. Her dantian came to life and her Qi rose.


    To her shock, her Qi was not being depleted. It joined the cycle of five elements. She drew deeper and deeper quantities of Qi until she felt simultaneously drained and stuffed full. Drew that Qi until she could match the balance the elders created.


    One-part ying. Two-part yin. Biased to the northeast, it was nothing less than the Trigram Zhen.


    From the five elements, lightning was born. A storm louder than a thousand birds flapping their wings at once. Blindingly bright, barely hindered by Hua instinctively closing her eyes. Lightning spread from the lodestone to Hua and there was nowhere to send it, nowhere that truly mattered. If she did that, she would fail. A child of lightning could not reject lightning.


    It engulfed her but—


    “You must split it back,” Grandmother roared over the storm.


    —Hua could overcome it. Had overcome something far greater. Hua breathed and with a great shove, she split the Qi in five directions and passed it on. Spidery sigils lit up the ground, spreading from Hua to the elders. And when they reached the elders, they split off, moving counterclockwise. From there, the Qi returned to Hua who was better prepared to split it. Again and again they did this until they had moved through five elements.


    Her Qi returned to her, but this time it was different. There was a… an imprint of something she could only describe as Liao. Everything that was her clan, their history and Qi, their blood and Scripture. Everything that mattered was written on in her soul.


    “Speak your name,” Grandmother demanded. “Speak the name you would be known by.”


    “I am the Lord Liao Weilong.”


    The formations lit up like the sunset as the mountain knew a new Lord.