12. A Sect Leader?

Song Zichen and Xiao Xingchen did not stay at the house, instead living off the land, as was their sworn vow.

A’Yao spread the gossip that “Grandfather Meng” had hired the rogue cultivators for a short-term contract to work on reducing the resentful energy coming out of the Burial Mounds. Everyone agreed this was honorable of him, as surely raising children so near the cursed place was bad for their health, and any reduction in resentful energy in the area was of benefit to the whole town.

(Lao Wang teared up the first time someone stopped him in the street to praise “the honorable Meng elder” for doing such righteous acts for his family. To her dying day, Yanli would never get over the fact that the notorious pickpocket who had lived most of his life in the town was unrecognizable to everyone simply because of nicer clothes, well-combed hair, and a new name.)

Since that was the story, though, and Xiao Xingchen was incapable of lying, they did exactly that along with training the boys in more advanced cultivation techniques. Song Zichen sat down with Yanli and drafted out a training and education regimen for them to follow once he and his partner left after three months. Wei Ying was heartbroken to find out they weren’t staying indefinitely, but Xiao Xingchen gave him his solemn word that they would return within a year of their departure.

“It will be difficult, going forward, without spiritual weapons for them to train with,” Yanli sighed, looking over the budget with Meng Yao.

“Used weapons that were rejected for not being strong enough, spiritually, will occasionally come on the market. They are still expensive, though.”

Xiao Xingchen, who was sitting nearby helping Wei Ying with advanced talisman work, looked up.

“Song Lan, doesn’t Baixue sect have masterless swords?”

Song Zichen, who was helping A’Cheng with some particularly difficult footwork, looked over and nodded. Then he looked back at A’Cheng and pointed at his foot. He never touched the boys, who figured out quickly that he was not physically demonstrative the way Xiao Xingchen was, but it never took more than a slight gesture for them to know what he was correcting.

“Why?” A’Yao asked.

“Some swords become tainted with resentful energy and reject their masters. They can be cleansed, but they will never be as powerful as an untainted sword, so more often than not cultivators just toss them into the Burial Mounds, or a nearby volcano.” Xiao Xingchen waved an elegant hand in the direction of the Burial Mounds.

“It is a challenge to cleanse such a sword. My former sect specializes in the practice as a unique form of cultivation,” Song Zichen said. “We will be traveling by there, eventually. I will ask if they have any they wish to donate to three young independent cultivators without fortune to their name.”

A’Yao cringed a little at that, but Yanli knew he couldn’t argue. They did well between his accounting business and her embroidery work, but they could not claim to have a fortune on hand.

Song Zichen went back to coaching A’Cheng. In the same way Wei Ying had latched on to Xiao Xingchen, A’Cheng had connected with Song Zichen. It seemed odd to her at first, but then she realized that he had always been desperate for their former father’s attention and approval, which was ironic given that Jiang Fengman believed A’Cheng really was his son at the time. Whatever he had craved back then, he found in Song Zichen’s steady and supportive guidance.

If nothing else, it eased her worry about A’Cheng becoming jealous of Wei Ying and his martial uncle.

“What if we went into the Burial Mounds to find some swords?” Wei Ying said thoughtfully, and Xiao Xingchen reared back in horror. Song Zichen snapped out “no” very loudly, causing A’Cheng to misstep and falter.

“Ying’er! No! Never think of such a thing!” Yanli said with as much force as she could.

“Why not?” He crossed his arms and huffed in defiance. Yanli was suddenly terrified to her bones, thinking of him running into the Burial Mounds to fetch a sword.

“Because the fucking Burial Mounds ate your parents, you stupid brat.” Lao Wang yelled at him. To be fair, Lao Wang was yelling most of the time since his hearing was getting worse, but it was particularly pointed this time.

Wei Ying curled up into himself. A’Cheng bounded over, glaring at Lao Wang, and wrapped his arms around his brother.

A thought occurred to Yanli that had not really hit her since Wei Ying had revealed their shared parentage. She hiccuped a sob, causing A’Yao to immediately come to her side. “Yanli?”

“Our father, our real father, died in the Burial Mounds!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. Xiao Xingchen looked heartbreakingly sympathetic, and it just made her cry harder. Song Zichen came to stand close to his cultivation partner, using his horsehair whisk to gently maneuver him up from the floor. Yanli watched through tears as Xiao Xingchen nodded and gestured for Meng Yao to come with them.

He looked disinclined to follow them out of the hall. He had kept his distance from the powerful cultivators outside of classes and tutoring, despite Xiao Xingchen’s effusive praise of A’Yao’s quick advancements in cultivation. Nothing they said penetrated A’Yao’s polite, defensive veneer of distrust.

“C’mon, kid. Let them have their time to mourn,” Lao Wang said, physically pushing at A’Yao despite being at least a head shorter than him.

A’Yao looked down at Yanli, who gave him a shallow nod. He patted her shoulder and followed the other men out of the hall into the courtyard, and distracted himself by fussing over Lao Wang.

A’Cheng and Wei Ying were quick to close in on her, and she held them tightly. They were her brothers, truly and without question, and she needed them as much as they needed her.

“It was a long time ago, JieJie,” Wei Ying said, wiggling in closer. “Please don’t cry.”

A’Cheng, always a sympathetic crier, was already overflowing with tears. She held them close and let her tears fall. She had not cried for her mother, as much as her death had hurt, because it never felt like the right time. She had not cried for herself, for being thrown out of the only home she had known, because she was too busy taking care of her brothers. While she had cried for her brothers’ sakes, and for the general unfairness of life, this was the first time she felt her own losses like a blade cutting her from heart to liver.

A mother who would never love her as she deserved, a father who died long before she knew he existed, and the betrayal of a man who had once sworn to protect her as a father should.

“I’m going to destroy him one day, JieJie. I swear I am!” Wei Ying growled, and she realized she had said that aloud.

“We’ll burn his sect to the ground!” A’Cheng sniffled.

She shook her head to clear it. “Revenge will not serve us in this life, my precious brothers.”

“Maybe not, but it would feel really good,” Wei Ying said unrepentantly.

Yanli couldn’t help but giggle, as horrified as she was by her brothers’ bloodthirstiness.

“He doesn’t deserve to have a sect!” A’Cheng insisted.

She sighed. “Maybe not. But he is Jiang Zongzhu, and we are not his children.”

“Meh. Who needs him? We’ll start our own sect!” Wei Ying announced, and A’Cheng bounced on his toes.

“Yeah! And JieJie will be sect leader!”

“Yes! JieJie, you should be sect leader!” Wei Ying nodded furiously.

“What am I going to do with you two?” She said with a sigh, drying her eyes with her sleeve, and then cleaning A’Cheng’s face.

“I have it all planned out! You will be sect leader, DaGe will be head disciple, A’Cheng will be your marshal, and I’ll be your talisman master!”

“Ying’er, stop.” She put a finger over his mouth.

He pouted at her while A’Cheng remained defiant. “You have to be sect leader, JieJie. If we’re going to be the Twin Heroes of Yiling, you need to be sect leader.”

“Is everything all right?” A’Yao reappeared on the porch outside the main hall, peering at them.

“Yes! JieJie is going to be sect leader and you will be her head disciple!” Wei Ying said brightly, punching A’Cheng in the arm, who grinned back at him.

A’Yao looked flummoxed. “Oh?”

“Yes! We’ll be the, um, Yiling Meng sect!” A’Cheng announced. Yanli sighed and put a hand over her eyes.

“I think it might be more accurate to call it the Yiling Wei sect?” A’Yao said, a note of amused deference in his tone.

“Oh, not you too!” Yanli snapped at him, but she could not help but smile when she did. It was all absurd, and her brothers were ridiculous, but it felt good to laugh about their situation for a change.

She looked over his shoulder at where the daoren stood, staring at her with matching yet inscrutable expressions.