Lanyue—his friend—was dead, and they celebrated.

The banquet for his death was held in Yanren Hall on Qianyang Summit. The cultivators of the six orthodox sects all gathered to dine. 

It was not common for these six sects to gather together under one roof, for all the leaders felt that their own palaces and halls were the best compared to their peers. But this time, none of them refused—perhaps because they were all already gathered here conveniently on Qianyang Summit, and perhaps they didn’t want to face embarrassment by requesting a change of place.

Inside the grand Yanren Hall, the marked banners of each sect were hung up: blue mountain peaks for Qianyang, a black river for Lishui, green wind for Yefeng, yellow flames for Tianyan¹天炎派 (tiān yán pài) Tianyan Sect literally translates to “Heavenly Fire”, an orange pipa for Huangxue²煌穴派 (huáng xué pài) Huangxue Sect literally translate to “Bright Cave”, and finally white udumbara flowers for Jingxuan³静玄派 (jìng xuán pài) Jingxuan Sect literally translates to “Silent Mystics”.

Each sect’s leader and disciples sat under their own banners with individual banquet tables set in front of them. As the host, Fan Haoren sat on his throne overseeing everyone in the hall.

Being part of cultivator sects, many of the attendees were educated in the Four Books and Five Classics⁴四书五经 (sì shū wǔ jīng) Nine confucian classics written before 300 BC along with the Six Arts⁵六艺 (liù yì) Ancient education: archery, rites, music, chariotry, calligraphy, and mathematics. So, naturally, the crowd refrained from any loud talking or shouting. Quiet conversation continued throughout the hall, awaiting the host’s signal for the banquet to begin.

Ting~ Ting~ The tiny bell in Fan Haoren’s hands resonated.

The disciples who were new to hearing Fan Haoren’s bell were astonished. How could a bell smaller than the palm of a hand create a sound so ethereal and light yet still able to travel throughout the entire hall? And let alone bless everyone with its divine ring?

Just as the newbies pondered the power behind the bell, the feast arrived. The smell of roasted meat wafted to the noses of the crowd, rumbling their stomachs. The fat of mutton still sizzled from the fire. Baked fish with green and red chilis, whole roasted boar with crispy brown skin, and the assortment of different side dishes all caught the eyes of the hungry crowd. There were steamed eggs with a sprinkle of green onions, stuffed peppers with shrimp, fried meat sandwiched between lotus roots, beef and pork kebabs with aromatic cumin, tofu cooked in vegetable broth, soy-braised mushrooms, and so much more!

Ting~ Ting~ Ting~ The small bell rang.

Fan Haoren raised his cup. “To the brave souls who passed away—may they reach the shores of peacefulness.”

The cultivators raised their cups in unison and downed their wine. The fiery liquid burned at the tip of Yixiao Zhenjun’s tongue and made its way down smoothly and gently, as if reminding him that, with the overcoming of life’s harsh struggles, there would be peace and a chance of living an eternal, painless life.

“Tonight, we will celebrate not only the death of the notorious demon lord, Chixi Mojun,” boomed Fan Haoren’s voice, “but also a special announcement that I will reveal later on tonight. But first, enjoy the banquet!”

Almost immediately upon sitting down, the previously quiet hall was filled with the wondrous sound of music. Graceful dancers whirled their way into the centre of the banquet floor, their footsteps so light, as if they were floating on clouds. Their long sleeves were like the soft waters of a creek flowing in an oasis. The dancers circled around the incense burner, arms gliding inwards and outwards, in an arc upwards, just like the blossoming of a flower. The crowd applauded at this heavenly sight.

The pipa strings were plucked and picked,

With fingers long and slim.

The erhu bows were pushed and pulled,

With hands so light and soft.

Yanren Hall danced with elegant music;

Sorrows melted away at such a balanced harmonic.

“Thank you, Leader Fan, for remembering our sect’s rules,” a voice said. 

Fan Haoren looked to his left where an elderly monk with a brown cassock bowed in his direction. “You are most welcome, Master Kong! I have specially hired a chef to prepare vegetarian dishes just for you and your disciples. I do hope you enjoy them!”

“You are most kind, Leader Fan,” thanked Master Kong with a bow. 

Out of the six clans present today at the banquet, two were of the Buddhist School, with one being the Jingxuan Sect, who practised vegetarianism, and the other being the Huangxue Sect. But unlike the Jingxuan Sect, the ladies at the Huangxue Sect didn’t have the rule of having no meat in their diet. 

Yes, that’s right: ladies. Only women were accepted into the Huangxue Sect. Their ways of life and cultivation were kept secret from mortals and members of other sects. Those who ventured accidentally into their caves in the Gobi Desert, sick and ill, were said to have returned completely cured, but the memories of their time in the caves would be found wiped clean. Some speculated from legends that the women of the Huangxue Sect danced and mingled with actual fairies and deities from above, hence their magical abilities to heal and cure.

The Jingxuan Sect, on the other hand, took in both men and women. Since the cultivators there had to denounce themselves from the secular world and all of its vices at entry, gender segregation didn’t really matter. They spent their time studying the lectures of the Buddha and meditating for countless hours, days, and even months! Master Kong was a monk who had meditated for years, with no food and no water. He faced the same wall for nine years. And when he finally emerged from his meditation, great powers awoke in both his mind and body.

From his seat, Yuelong could see his father talking and laughing with Murong Teng, the leader of the Lishui Sect, his future father-in-law. A feeling of disgust abruptly overwhelmed the taste of food in his mouth. He quickly poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp, attempting to wash away the distaste in his heart. 

At the other side of the room, a young disciple of Tianyan stared at the colourful banners hanging down from the ceilings. Black, white, blue, orange, green, yellow… He gently elbowed a Qianyang disciple and asked, “How come there isn’t a red banner up there?”

“............”

The area around the young cultivator instantly faded into silence. At that, some of the leaders even turned their heads to see what was going on. The poor boy! Faced with the awkward silence, the boy’s shi-xiong quickly stepped in and blurted, “He meant, When are we going to burn the red banner!”

Noticing the situation, Fan Haoren laughed. “Son, the burning of an enemy's flag happens at battle! You must be so full of fire and enthusiasm!”

The leader of the Tianyan Sect gave a small nervous chuckle in response.

“Please continue, everyone!” Fan Haoren smiled, “There's plenty of alcohol to go around!”

Seeing that the boy’s ass was saved from disaster and embarrassment, his shi-xiong brought him to the back of one of the pillars. He looked him in the eyes and gave a long sigh. 

“I won’t blame you for not knowing, but don’t do that ever again,” His shi-xiong whispered. “The red, spider-lilied banner symbolizes the Bi An Sect, the evil sect!”

That’s right. There once was a time when the Bi An Sect was part of the orthodox sects. That was until the leader turned corrupt and became entangled in a dangerous and diabolic cultivation: Asura cultivation. Ever since then, the six other cultivation sects denounced the Bi An Sect as a demonic sect and declared war on them.

Seeing the youngster taken behind the pillar, Yuelong assumed that the boy’s shi-xiong was lecturing him on the history of the Bi An Sect. That’s right… the Bi An Sect…

While everyone else was excited for this banquet, Yuelong’s state of mind actually worsened. Faced with the pressure of the arranged marriage set by his father, the grief from his friend’s passing, and the sickening mockery by the sect leaders, including his father, Yuelong lost hope in his sect’s cultivation pathway and morals. He grabbed the bottle of wine at his table to pour himself a cup.

Empty. Just like his mind. Or maybe his mind was already too full for him to focus on anything, like everything had just exploded all at once, fighting to grab his attention. Now, he simply didn’t care. 

What kind of “orthodox” sect celebrates the death of a person? What kind of “orthodox” sect leader has two faces? What kind of father forces his son to marry while grieving?

A terrible father.

Yuelong shook his head. I must be drunk… That’s my father. I can’t think of him this way. It’s unfilial. But…

Ting~ Ting~ Ting~

The heavenly bell rang once more, but this time in a slightly lower pitch, as if the bell itself was kindly asking for everyone’s attention.

Fan Haoren stood up.

“My fellow cultivators,” he proudly began, “I will be sharing wonderful news! As you may know, my son, Fan Yuelong, is nearing the age of marriage.” 

He glanced in the direction of Yuelong. Fan Haoren’s soul-piercing eyes penetrated through Yuelong’s lifeless ones, attempting to uncover his most inner thoughts, but to no avail.

“And I’m proud to announce that my son will soon marry the daughter of Leader Murong—”

SLAM!

Fan Haoren’s speech was overpowered by the sudden noise. Everyone in the hall turned their attention from the shocked Qianyang leader to the source of the disturbance.

It was Fan Yuelong, standing up straight. His hands were clenched into fists and shaking with anger. His eyes focused sharply on the floor, on the table that lay in front of him, split right down the middle, as if an invisible meteor had struck down upon the defenseless thing.

“…”

Fan Haoren gave a nervous chuckle. “My son must be too excited to hear about this news…”

He descended the stairs and came up beside Yuelong, wanting to give him a pat on his shoulder. But Yuelong nudged his shoulder right out of his way.

“No.”

With a swipe of his sleeve, Yuelong turned away and made his way to the exit. He felt the uncomfortable gazes of the sect leaders upon his back as he approached the doorway.

“Yiheng! Where do you think you’re going?” questioned Fan Haoren with a slight tone of anger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With only one more step away from leaving the Yanren Hall, Yuelong turned around to face his father, who was still standing next to the table’s remains.

“I’m someone who has their own destiny and life.”

With a single leap, he disappeared into the night.

Fan Haoren’s face was red with embarrassment and anger, his knuckles white with rage. How dare he embarrass me like this? How dare he embarrass our sect like this!?

“Leader Fan! What is the meaning of this?” barked Murong Teng. “If word of this got out, how would my daughter live with this humiliation!?”

“Yuelong is just surprised by this sudden announcement,” Fan Haoren explained. “He will come to his senses soon, after he becomes sober. I sincerely apologize.” The leader of the Qianyang Sect bowed to everyone in the room and quietly exited Yanren Hall. 

The moment Fan Haoren disappeared from view, the entire hall burst with whispers and gossip. 

“He was so handsome…never knew he was like this.”

“How embarrassing!”

“What kind of leader can’t even teach his own son proper manners!?”

“Outrageous!”

No matter how the gossip flew around in the grand hall, none of it seemed to move Murong Zi, who stared blankly at the night sky. A droplet of water suddenly landed on her hand. “It’s raining? Indoors?”

RadishTyrant

There once was a baby dragon. He loved to roam around the clouds and was extremely happy with his friend the phoenix. But the dragon's father was strict and restricted the baby dragon, concealing the baby dragon in his father's teachings. As the years passed by, the baby dragon was now a big dragon. Due to his father's strict teachings, his natural disposition was suppressed. He no longer roamed around the skies, and appeared to be cold and serious among his friends.