All things considered, there would probably be some sort of repercussions for pushing the presumptive heir of the Demon King off of the roof of a tall building, and even inebriated, Yi Yeguang realised as much.

However, fact remained that Jiao Ziyu had been the one doing the pushing, and that Yi Yeguang wouldn’t hesitate to point fingers at the one responsible if questions were asked – not because he was a bastard, but rather because it was simply the best option available. Because while Yi Yeguang could certainly have taken responsibility for the actions of his subordinate – responsibility to punish him, that is, and accountability in general – he didn’t really want to. In fact, he had two perfectly good reasons not to, and both of them just so happened to be related to Bai Mingyue.

Firstly, Yi Yeguang wasn’t about to lay hand on the aforementioned Peak Lord’s cultivation partner.

Secondly, Yi Yeguang didn’t think that anyone else would do that either, for the exact same reason – and if Mingyue alone wasn’t enough of a deterrent, then there was also Bai Jixue, who’d undoubtedly interfere on his onetime disciple’s behalf if the situation called for it.

Besides, who even knew what was possible these days? Maybe that bastard Jiao Zilei had also become close with the Demon King – a rather unlikely scenario, sure, but hardly an impossible one.

“Honestly...”

Having split off from Jiao Ziyu, Yi Yeguang now found himself making his way back on foot.

It felt good to be alone again, because while it was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one with grievances, Yi Yeguang hadn’t really been given the opportunity to air any of his own. The latter was most likely for the best though, or so Yi Yeguang mused as he descended one of the Green Jade Peaks’ many, many staircases.

Though, truth to be told, many of the staircases were actually interconnected, creating one sprawling stairway leading up towards the Heavens – or rather, to the Great Plaza where the Windward Sect conducted a portion of the process known as the Selection once every eighth year.

Of course, it was used for other things as well, like training exercises and exhibition matches. However, it was primarily known for being the place where the final – and in the opinions of some also most important – portion of the Selection took place.

Yi Yeguang didn’t quite agree though – or, to be exact, he both agreed and disagreed with the admission process. However, to date, he had yet to openly suggest any dramatic changes, knowing well that he’d face strong opposition from some. Besides, while Yi Yeguang did find it inherently flawed, the process did serve not just one purpose but three.

First of all, it served to give a general idea as to the strengths and potential of the candidates.

Second of all, it served to give the candidates a general idea about the harshness of the training and expectations awaiting those ultimately chosen, discouraging some of those less dedicated to the cause.

Thirdly, having the admissions take place only every eighth year meant being able to streamline teaching for the vast majority of the disciples, given that each generation would be at roughly the same level at roughly the same time and that their training and teaching could typically be entrusted to more senior disciples when the responsible Peak Lord was unavailable.

In this, the Windward Sect was hardly unique though. Because as a matter of fact, most righteous cultivation sects conducted some type of Selection, and while the content and order of these procedures could differ, they all took place at the same or roughly the same time, effectively ensuring that aspiring cultivators could only take part in one Selection process at the time, thus heightening the stakes. Failure to get accepted did after all typically mean having to wait eight years for another chance.

Granted, at least at the Windward Sect, few that actually made it through the initial trials got rejected outright, and even if they didn’t get picked up by a master right away, they could still choose to stay in the outer sect to study cultivation and bide their time, either until the next Selection or until some master took notice and took them in.

In theory, it was a good system. In theory, it was a good system that allowed even late bloomers a chance at embarking upon the path of righteous cultivation.

In practice however, few younglings were willing to wait that long, many considering it unfair and a waste of time to deal with the menial tasks that came with being an outer sect disciple.

“It’s so unfair,” they’d mutter amongst themselves, thinking of those inner sect disciples who had masters and steady access to better cultivation guides and materials. “If only I could get the same access. Then I’d overtake them in no time.’”

Most – if not all of them – were wrong though.

As for Yi Yeguang, he was quite familiar with the thought patterns of the average outer sect disciple – he himself had been one for almost nine years after all.

Once, he’d scrambled up these stairs like so many other hopefuls, only to end up unchosen. And Yi Yeguang still remembered it; the numbness – the utter dejection – as he’d stumbled back down, trying not to cry while struggling to keep up with the disciple leading him and his fellows down to the outer sect’s quarters.

He’d been distraught, but even so, he’d worked diligently. He’d tried hard – so, so hard – to improve himself; to become someone worthy.

The prospect of waiting eight years for another chance had scared him, because he’d known as well as the rest that learning cultivation became increasingly difficult the older one got. As such, he’d tried hard – perhaps too hard – to do well. And then⸺

Eight years down the line, he’d had little to show for his efforts – not even a blade to call his own.

So, when an inner sect disciple had whispered of another way, Yi Yeguang had listened. He’d listened and he’d paid them eagerly for their guidance – for them to show him the path leading into the fabled caves of the Green Jade Peaks. He’d paid, using up his earnings, because he’d been desperate to go down there, where he’d believed his salvation awaited.

And in a way, it had, albeit not in the way that Yi Yeguang had anticipated.

Reminded of these events, he let out a wistful sigh, pausing midway down the staircase to turn his face towards the moon where it hung white and luminous in the skies. Before, it had been partially obscured by clouds, whereas now it shone so brightly that Yi Yeguang found himself squinting at it.

Of course, this might’ve also had something to do with the alcohol still in his system – the stuff that Jiao Ziyu had brought along had sure packed a punch.

Ah, Yi Yeguang’s head hurt. In fact, it hurt a lot.

However, given his status as a cultivator along with the life he’d led so far, Yi Yeguang wasn’t one to be incapacitated by such things. Besides, he was used to suffering headaches and other aches to such a degree that they wouldn’t typically distract him from his surroundings. Because Yi Yeguang was perfectly aware of them, despite harbouring no intention of acknowledging every part of them.

Unfortunately for him though, a certain part of said surroundings seemed determined to acknowledge him.

“Sect Leader.”

Peak Lord Cheng was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a place where he really had no business being at this hour.

Seeing him, Yi Yeguang pinched the bridge of his nose because his head hurt way too much for him to deal with this. Still⸺ “Evening, Peak Lord Cheng.”

Why was he here? Was he here to express disapproval, apologies, concern, or potentially all three? Well, in any case⸺ “The moon’s beautiful tonight.”

Saying this, Yi Yeguang again looked towards the moon, staring up at it until he could do so without squinting and not just because it was rather beautiful but because it provided an excuse for him not to look directly at Peak Lord Cheng, who honestly had no business being here at this time.

“I suppose,” Peak Lord Cheng said at last, and from his tone, Yi Yeguang could very easily picture the scowl as the man looked up at the heavenly body in question. “But even though it is beautiful, it remains ever cold and distant.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, per se. Still⸺ “Whether or not it’s cold or distant, I still seek it.”

Not the moon itself, of course. But⸺

“A waste of effort.”

Perhaps, but⸺ “I’ve wasted my efforts on worse.”

And indeed, he had. Yi Yeguang had wasted his efforts on far, far worse. This might not have been the life he’d once hoped for, but this was the life he himself had ultimately chosen. He didn’t expect any rewards either, only atonement.

Peak Lord Cheng wouldn’t understand though, because honestly, what did he know?

Yi Yeguang vividly remembered the Selection wherein Peak Lord Cheng had blown every other candidate out of the water. It had practically been a given that the youth would one day replace his master as one of the strongest sword cultivators in the region.

Peak Lord Cheng was obviously someone of good birth and in addition to that someone blessed by the Heavens, breezing through obstacles where another would struggle immensely.

Of course, the other wasn’t perfect. If Peak Lord Cheng had been perfect, then he would’ve ascended a long time ago. And he did have his flaws, and today, the most glaring one had been laid bare for all to see, and so openly that Yi Yeguang simply couldn’t feign ignorance any longer. Still⸺

Sliding his hands into his sleeves, Yi Yeguang finally turned to face the Peak Lord down below.

“Peak Lord Cheng, you may retire for the night,” he said, inclining his head. “And know that, should there be a repeat of today’s incident, then you have my full confidence to deal with it as you see fit. As for your feelings in regards to me, this one would advise Peak Lord Cheng to reconsider. However, Peak Lord Cheng is free to do with them as he likes, although this one doubts they’ll ever lead anywhere.”

Well, nowhere good, at any rate.

And as for Yi Yeguang's own feelings, well⸺

Yi Yeguang’s feelings were his own, understandable yet undesirable, and occasionally nigh unbearable. Because Yi Yeguang could admit that he admired Peak Lord Cheng for his ideals and general work ethic. In fact, he could even admit to harbouring a certain degree of fondness for the man that went beyond that which a superior had for a trusted subordinate.

However, at the same time, Yi Yeguang remained perfectly aware of the envy that still refused to abate, even after so many years. Because odds were that Peak Lord Cheng would one day ascend to join the ranks of the Gods, prospects that lay far beyond Yi Yeguang’s reach.

In fact, Yi Yeguang ever ascending was highly unlikely, and even if he eventually did, it would be by the time that he was old and grey – which would take a while, given his relative state of longevity. It wouldn’t take forever though, but probably too long to keep someone waiting.

Besides, even if it was possible, Yi Yeguang wasn’t even sure he wanted to ascend. He didn’t really think there’d be anything good waiting for him up there. And, honestly, having already reached this height, why risk it all to climb even higher, only to get cast back down into the mud?

Then again, the mud was where Yi Yeguang had started out, so that would simply be them returning him to his origins – telling him to either do it all over and better or to stay down and not attempt to rise above his station. And honestly, if such a thing came to pass, then Yi Yeguang would probably just lie down there in the mud and let the world run its course.

Others might scorn him for thinking about giving up like that, but honestly, had Yi Yeguang not already worked hard enough?

Well, probably not, because what was life without suffering anyway?

Even Peak Lord Cheng – otherwise so blessed by the Heavens – had been bestowed with his own obstacles to overcome, and what obstacles they were, truly.

Besides, for all that Peak Lord Cheng might think otherwise, the true nature of his feelings towards Yi Yeguang was not love but admiration, and it was directed towards the Sect Leader, not towards Yi Yeguang as a person.

Besides, as a Peak Lord, it was only natural for Peak Lord Cheng to direct his affections towards someone of similar stature, and given his loyalty towards the Windward Sect and the scarcity of viable candidates, him fixating upon Yi Yeguang wasn’t all that strange. That in itself didn’t make it any less foolish though.

With a heavy sigh, Yi Yeguang straightened back up and looked down, quietly regarding Peak Lord Cheng where he stubbornly remained.

Honestly, Yi Yeguang was half a mind to throw something at him – like a small object or something, and most definitely not himself. Ah.

Why did he have to drink so damned much? If he’d been just a tiny bit more moderate in his drinking, then he would’ve probably felt steady enough to fly. But now, now he didn’t, not trusting himself not to wobble or crash into trees and buildings and whatnot. Still, not flying either meant walking back up the stairs in a blatant retreat, or continuing down the stairs and passing right next to Peak Lord Cheng at the bottom.

The latter would undoubtedly be the most dignified option, but also the riskiest – not that Yi Yeguang actually believed that Peak Lord Cheng would lay a hand on him; the other was far too chivalrous for such a thing. Still⸺

His heart remained unconvinced, despite his firm conviction; his treacherous, treacherous heart. But at least it wasn’t his third leg taking a stance on the issue, because that would’ve been utterly mortifying, even with Peak Lord Cheng there as the only witness – or perhaps even more so because of it.

Should such a thing occur, then Yi Yeguang would either have to go into indefinite seclusion or fake his own death – an option that was starting to sound increasingly appealing, the more he thought about it.

In fact, the thought made him smile, and somehow, Yi Yeguang managed to remain perfectly steady and largely dignified as he descended. Then finally, he reached the bottom of the stairs, offering up yet another slight bow before resolutely stepping past Peak Lord Cheng.

And he did make it past, and further beyond that without his footsteps gaining an echo – neither in an auditory sense nor in a spiritual one – and he was greatly relieved.