Mo Lin stood next to his father. The silk robes irritated the mostly healed wounds on his back, a sensation that was tolerable but intensely uncomfortable.
The mind and the body did not need to be in sync, so he remained stoic with a subtle smile that masked his irritation. The Patriarch kept him at his side like a piece of expensive decor.
All the clan elders gathered in the hall at the Patriarch's command. It was an all-hands-on-deck meeting that required his presence for "experience," or so they claimed. For the most part, only the gray walls that stole joy and light kept him company.
Ceilings embroidered with carved scripts and murals, using a type of dark paint that only showed detail under specific light, hung a few meters above the ground. He would need to strain his neck just to see the jagged scripts that spelled "Mo," a feat that required too much squinting.
The Matriarch once told him that such an invisible tapestry stretched through every piece of masonry in the Mo Clan courtyards. These were the remnants of an ancient formation that still functioned when manned by His Lordship. Even the Patriarch was bound to follow His Lordship when the need arose.
The Shrine that had erupted in the forbidden grounds days ago dominated the series of windows that ushered moonlight into the hall. Regardless of where one stood in the village, its existence was an eyesore. Such an event had never occurred according to clan records. Had it anything to do with Shen's carcass? He could not be certain, but he assumed some connection lay there.
"Three days ago, past nine in the evening, an event we have yet to document occurred. The blood-drenched Shrine rose from the forbidden ground, spewing immense qi that loosened His Lordship's bottleneck. I require the details of what you have uncovered so far. Elder Chang, begin," the Patriarch said, placing his heavy arms on the narrow oak table that stretched through the hall.
Elders seated on each side on simple matte black iron chairs trained all their attention on him. Slivers of greed colored their eyes in a manner Mo Lin did not need clairvoyance to discern.
Some looked an age younger with the amount of blood gushing through their veins, brightening their pale pallor. The atmosphere hung as heavy as a set of cinderblocks that could not be dropped. Their muted, neutral-colored robes in various shades of gray and black shielded their desires somewhat. They were supposed to be old and wise. Mostly, they were.
"The mortal scouts we sent prior returned with pale haunts clinging to their necks like over-juiced fleas. Most died in a manner that the doctors and alchemists could not fathom," Elder Chang began his presentation.
He motioned behind him. His apprentice stepped from the shadows with stacks of scrolls in his bosom. Quickly, he walked around the table, placing a scroll in front of each elder until he finally arrived before Mo Lin and provided a copy as well. With a silent nod, Mo Lin acknowledged the apprentice and scanned the content. The heavy scent of burnt coal and ink assailed his senses.
"Cultivators above Body Refinement Two experienced no side effects from being in the vicinity. Some managed to approach the entrance with no visible side effects.
" However, when examined by the clan alchemist, we noticed a corrosive substance bonding with their blood qi. So far, it has proved to be harmless, but we did not take any chances. Body Refinement Three are the only ones who exhibit no anomalies upon approaching," Elder Chang stated. "Allow me to draw your attention to something worth mentioning. Review line two hundred on the scrolls."
Everyone paid particular attention to the section highlighted by the elder. At the same time, the sound of paper sliding toward the Patriarch tore them away. An ancient scroll exuding a bloody aura that dilated the pupils of everyone except the Patriarch pulsed on the table.
"Four of these were found near the gate. The Su clan managed to secure one, and the Lui clan obtained two. They were the first to arrive as well," Elder Chang added. "So far, no one has been able to crack the seals."
"Logical. Midnight and the wee hours of the morning are most pivotal. I suspect our friendly neighbors will make a move tonight," the Matriarch said. "But that places us in a dilemma. Elder Yan, explain the intelligence you received this morning."
Uncle Yan held himself in the highest regard Mo Lin had ever seen. The usual brown gourd hanging at his waist was nowhere to be found, and threads of maturity needled through his youthful features. His eyes held a serenity that Mo Lin had spotted in his father's gaze only once or twice.
"The spirit vein has been confirmed. It lies about twelve hundred kilometers north of Iron-Root Village in the Dragon Ridge Mountains. For us, that represents a five-thousand-kilometer supply chain, unless we find a way to cut through the Dangling Darkholds. That path is risky, yet it would lessen the distance by about two thousand kilometers," Uncle Yan explained.
With practiced ease, he tossed a thick scroll map into the air. Twisting his wrist, a small pin shot out like a guided arrow with enough momentum to drive it into the wall behind him. With enough restraint to keep it perfect, the map spread apart from the excess momentum. Five more pins flew at its corners and center, securing it in place.
Tiger-like grace enveloped his next set of actions as he twisted out of his seat and stood next to the map in a single bound. A dotted line showed all the paths that connected their little village to four other villages.
The Dangling Darkholds formed a nigh-insurmountable barrier that circled a two-thousand-five-hundred-kilometer radius. Within it sat Iron-Root Village at the very center and Gingko Village touching the north edge. Copper-Gully, Silt-Arbour, and Thorn-Hold villages existed on the outer ring. About fifteen thousand kilometers north of Copper-Gully lay Onyx-Reach City.
"Our shadowline thins the moment we touch Silt-Arbour. We have stretched it further to cover Copper-Gully and Thorn-Hold, but that means intelligence is slow. I have confirmed the spirit vein, but with a standard six-hour delay. It is safe to say we do not have momentum. If we stretch it further to cover the Shrine, we might lose all momentum at once. We cannot stretch a shadow in two directions this time," Uncle Yan gestured at the map.
"I think it is still feasible to sacrifice the shadows on the shadowlines and have the shadowless maintain them. My ladies have deepened their techniques. Two squadrons have already made it halfway through the Dangling Darkholds," the Matriarch said.
"Mo Lin?" the Patriarch called his name.
He did not skip a beat. Keeping his mask and subtle smile, he responded as if it were all natural.
"We cannot afford to stretch ourselves too thin. While the temple is a treasure that might yield much for us, we cannot deny the importance of having a stake in the spirit vein. We miss it and all who confirmed first will band together to keep us out. Against Copper-Gully or Silt-Arbour we could weasel our way through.
" But if Gingko and Thorn-Hold get a stake too, or worse, if the Lui and Su get a stake as well, we would be losing a heaven-given gift over something as petty as greed," Mo Lin said. "I suggest we keep the plan as it is. Instead, we can delegate a few elders and our mid-tier force, about one hundred men, to excavate the Shrine.
" I doubt the Lui and Su have failed to confirm the spirit vein yet. If they have not, they will by tomorrow morning at the latest."
Mo Lin finished.
"Adequate. But you missed something," the Patriarch said.
Mo Lin saw the way his father stared at the scroll like a venomous bug. He had not touched it, but the majority of his attention remained fixed upon it.
"The Shrine is far too complex for us to ignore. When was the last time His Lordship had a chance at breaking through to the Second Layer of Qi Condensation?" the Patriarch asked. "I shall pay equal attention to both. Based on the Lui and Su clan undercurrents, we have reached a delicate balance. We should have a visitor before midnight. If we do not, we will shift tactics."
"I suggest an amendment. Two-thirds move north. One third remains for the Shrine. What we lack in numbers, we take with quality. Elder Yan leads the shadows through the Darkholds, taking the shortcut. I will oversee the Shrine with my dear nephew, Mo Lin," Uncle Feng, who had remained silent until this moment, made his move.
"Thought you would suggest that sooner," the Patriarch chuckled. "Dismissed."
Palm met oak, sending an authoritative vibration that jolted the elders into action.
"His Lordship seeks the scroll. One last meeting at two in the morning."
*