The thick black curtain hovering over his eyes split open. He was not in the courtyard. It was not a dream.
The scalding pain spreading across his back painted the truth too well, and pulses of piping hot migraines mapped his brain. Still he squinted and cleared his vision to see the small room.
Frigid cold held his stomach in place. He laid on a bed, feeling the leather and the frost stones stuffed into it.
Only two flames lit the small room, and the window to the left seeped moonlight. His vision focused on scented oils, cloths, and blood roots used to treat injuries, stashed in the corner on a pillar of polished sandstone.
A subtle scent of jasmine and rose teased his nose. It came from behind.
His ears strained at the sound of footsteps thudding against the wooden floors. It was intentional. The Mo built everything in silence, so the presence of sound was always an announcement of presence.
He knew who it was: Mother.
"Lin'er," her voice held a touch of silk and honeyed softness he wished he had heard in the courtyard or at dinner. "How are you feeling, my son?"
The question insulted him. Who felt great after being humiliated in front of the clan like a stray dog? Shutting his mouth and staring at the window was the only reply he gave her.
The thick grey clouds hovering in the distance outside offered more warmth than her words.
Her shadow came into view followed by her spotless white robe. Where was the beige? She knelt down and picked up the bowl with ointments and cloth.
Her silhouette felt somber in that moment, and he saw aspects of the mother he knew before he turned seven. Her fingers, pale and soft, lifted the bowl. Her gracious posture and the steady walk that offered stability when she picked him up as a child cut behind him.
"Don't waste your spirit blaming your father," she whispered. "The Clan needed this sacrifice to remain whole."
"Who should I believe? This? Your care now?" Mo Lin spat through gritted teeth. "Or the cold, detached woman who watched her son receive wounds for no reason? Forty-two lashes."
Mother halted. Her pause was an indictment, a silence that felt like a distance he could never bridge. What more could he expect from her?
Silence engulfed the room, punctuated only by the crackle of open flames. Her refusal to respond told him everything he needed to know.
"Lin'er, I am your mother, yet I am also your sovereign," she said, a faint trail of structured emotion coloring her voice. "To protect you, we must be just. To love you, we must be harsh."
Her words were accompanied by a surging, cooling sensation of blood qi swirling through his wounds. The frost of her power froze both his spirit and his skin.
Visible dark patches claimed the wounds at a pace discernible to mortal eyes, halting just shy of covering the gashes entirely.
For a moment, a whimper slithered through his lips. His knuckles whitened as he clawed at the spotless bedsheets. Mother's hand slipped away, leaving a vacuum that craved her soothing touch despite the trauma.
"You may not believe my words, but your faith is not my concern. I merely hope you take them to heart," Mother said. "The mind and the body should not be in sync. The body must hide the mind, just as the mind must hide the body."
She reached for something at the edges of his senses. His fragile blood qi had no hope of tracing her intent.
A fresh, cooling wetness spread across the stabbing wounds, and the rose-tinted scent of the oils signaled which ointment she had chosen. Pain followed in its wake, cracking along his spine and tethering itself to his nerves like sticky spider silk.
Writhing muscle nearly folded him into the floor, but Mother's delicate, iron-strong hands held him fast. A scream boiled in his throat, feeling as though scalding water gushed down his chest.
The flickering flames toyed with his senses. Their warmth, as they licked the white walls, added a psychological weight that curled his toes and nails.
"Lin'er, separate the flesh from the thought. Pain is merely a suggestion; you possess the authority to deny it."
Her words acted as a cold clarity, freezing the steam that clouded his eyes. He grasped for that detachment like a freezing man seeking fire.
Then, it clicked. Her philosophy slid into his understanding like warm, slick oil.
He hated the sensation, but the oil was a form of water, and he required its flow.
Something snapped.
The veins bulging along his forehead receded. The boiling temperature reddening his skin cooled.
Loosening the alligator bite on his lower lip, he allowed his face to straighten.
Calm found him. The pain remained, but he was no longer connected to the nerve.
"My duty is to ensure the clan survives the dawn, but it is also to ensure you grow into a leader for the generations to follow. Leadership is a burden decorated with privilege," Mo Huangling said. "The rest of the healing belongs to you."
The title of Mother did not suit her. The realization cut through him, but she was not a parent in this room; she was a ruler.
Her presence receded in rhythmic, light footsteps. Again, when he needed her most, she vanished, leaving the dancing flames as his only companions.
Though heartless, her words were truth. Mo Lin dragged himself off the bed. In the corner, Mo Huangling had left a set of black robes. He donned them, guiding the silk to feather over his wounds.
The boy who needed cradling was dead. He dragged a tatami mat to the window and folded his legs into the lotus position.
He needed to reach Body Refinement 6 immediately.
First, however, he had to seal the damage. Blood qi gathered from his five acupoints, and he slid it toward his back to fester over the wounds, killing bacteria and forcing cellular regeneration.
He would not leave this room until the work was finished.
___________________________
__ Mo Clan Training Grounds__
___________________________
"That was an undoubtedly harsh punishment, Elder Brother," Mo Yan said, sprawled across a chair with spectacular laze.
Mo Jing stood atop the wall overlooking the training grounds, his gaze intent on the progress of the younger generation. He never seemed to rest, let alone chuckle.
That work ethic was the engine that had pulled the clan from decline to its current prosperity, forcing the Liu and Su clans to finally invite them to the table.
"You believe I was harsh?" Mo Jing answered a criticism with a question, a silent dare for his brother to continue.
"I do. First, we have yet to confirm the death of the other boy. Second, based on the thundering of Mo Lin's heart, I am certain he did not ensure the child stayed dead. You and I both know the price of an accidental kill left unfinished," Mo Yan said with a light, sharp jest.
"Why bring a chair here? Who informed you I required company?" Mo Jing asked, his tone absolute.
"Your tactics remain as transparent as ever," Mo Yan countered. "Father hated your audacity to answer with questions."
Mo Jing turned away from the courtyard. One hand hovered over the grey masonry. A subtle black glow deepened his eyes, a flash of regret visible beneath the cold exterior that spoke more of the man than any action could.
Mo Jing rarely permitted such moments. His lips puckered, and hesitation settled on his tongue before the words finally broke free.
"Our father is dying, Yan. I cannot afford to let Mo Lin grow into a delicate flower, especially not after we lost his sister. Soon, we will not possess our current prowess. The Liu clan senses it; the Su clan senses it as well. And Mo Lin? His talent is unlike anything I have ever witnessed."
That was the fear that consumed him. Mo Yan placed a finger to his chin, falling into deep thought as his flesh rippled, mapping his ideas.
"Mo Yin will undergo his awakening in the coming days, and he is bound to be gifted," Mo Yan noted. "Perhaps we can pour resources into him as well and hope he enters a Sect? Or I could take the journey once he awakens?"
"I have considered it. While that is a possible scenario, we must forge the steel we have. Mo Lin, your son, and Feng's heir are our only currency," Mo Jing said. "I pray we secure that spirit vein. If it exists, the burden will become so much lighter."