With unhurried steps, Yi Yeguang walks through the night. He’s alone, and that’s typically his preference, especially on nights such as this one.
He quietly makes his way back to his private residence, harbouring no greater plans than to crawl into bed and bury his face into a pillow – a soft one, because frankly, Yi Yeguang already deals with enough hard things in life to bother deal with a hard one.
However, by the time he enters, his objective suddenly changes. He checks the wards quickly, making sure they’re still secure, and then heads off elsewhere.
In one dark corner is a wooden chest.
Within it, there are various documents.
However, Yi Yeguang isn’t interested in them.
Instead, he grabs the chest and drags it aside, revealing the secret cache hidden beneath it.
There are things in there as well, but in truth, they’re of lesser importance. Because there’s only one thing inside that place that’s really important, and Yi Yeguang quickly reaches down to retrieve it.
It’s a small, lacquered box, lacking in any other embellishments. It doesn’t really need them though, because what’s important is what’s held within it.
Yi Yeguang grabs it, then retreats a handful of steps before dropping down to his knees, cradling the small box in his hands like it’s the most precious thing in the universe – and in a way, in that moment, it is.
Yi Yeguang stays like that for a while, bent over it with his eyes shut, just breathing. Then, gradually, he straightens back up, opening his eyes to stare blankly at the darkened interior of the room.
Then, he turns his attention elsewhere – towards the rays of pale moonlight seeping in through the nearby window. Yi Yeguang doesn’t move towards it though; he just looks at it. Then, he puts the small box down on his lap and finally opens it up.
Placed within it is a small feather; a small keepsake, stolen and hidden away from the eyes of the world.
Once, the feather had emitted enough light to illuminate an entire room. Over time however, its glow had decreased, and now it was only barely visible even in a dark room.
However, on this moonlit night, the feather seems to glow a lot brighter – though perhaps this is merely Yi Yeguang’s imagination or wishful thinking, or an effect of the alcohol still in his system. Still⸺
With a deep sigh, he cradles the thing in his hands and closes his eyes, and for a brief moment, he finds himself perfectly serene.
But then a rattling noise draws his attention, shattering any semblance of peace in his mind. The noise originates from another box – a sleek case that rattles and shakes.
Emboldened by liquid courage, Yi Yeguang rises to his feet, walks up to the thing and promptly kicks it with enough force to send it careening into the nearest wall.
Then, as the thing continues to rattle and shake, Yi Yeguang promptly puts his foot on top of it.
“Fucking keep it down for once!” he hisses. “Is it really too damned much to ask?!”
Speaking from experience, the answer is typically yes. Tonight however, for whichever reason, the thing sealed inside the box actually relents.
The peace and quiet likely won’t last for long though. However, Yi Yeguang would take any peace and quiet he could get and any sleep that might come with it.
But first, he tenderly but regretfully returns the feather to its box and seals it back up. He doesn’t put the box back into the cache though. He puts it inside his spatial ring instead, because at this rate, then Yi Yeguang might soon need it again.
“Honestly,” he mutters, flopping down onto the bed without even bothering to remove his outer layers. “I should’ve just stayed an outer sect disciple...”
It would’ve probably saved him a fair bit of trouble, and others too for that matter. If only he’d stayed an outer sect disciple⸺
Of course, in that particular scenario, then the question was who would’ve succeeded Sect Leader Yi – because with or without Yi Yeguang’s presence or interference, the man’s eventual demise was a given.
Yi Yeguang was not the cause for his former master's morals or ambitions – merely responsible for the part he had taken in realising the latter. He wouldn’t deny that responsibility – that he needs to take responsibility for his own actions.
Yi Yeguang really should’ve stayed an outer sect disciple though. He really should’ve stayed down until he’d been able to rise through his own strength alone.
He really should’ve learned his lesson the first time around; that nothing ever is as simple or free as it appears, and that certain things are simply not worth it.
It honestly isn’t worth it, and yet⸺
Today wasn’t a good day. This much was evident from the start, and to say that Yi Yeguang had woken up on the wrong side of the bed would’ve been a severe understatement. It would’ve been a severe understatement, because Yi Yeguang hadn’t even woken up in it. He’d woken up on the floor with the stiffness and aches that one might associate with such a thing. He’d also found himself nursing quite a hangover, and thus been entirely unwilling to face the challenges of the new day and whatever had come about from what he could still recall of the events of the previous night.
Thus, instead of facing said consequences head-on, Yi Yeguang had simply shrugged, crawled back into bed and decided to remain there until a point in time when he felt just slightly less dead inside. He felt entitled to it, honestly.
Unfortunately, others seemed to think otherwise, and since they were not keyed into the wards, they’d gone off in search of someone that was.
“You reek of alcohol,” Mingyue said, with obvious disapproval and a visible frown marring his features.
“Blame your husband,” Yi Yeguang countered, without missing a beat.
Because Yi Yeguang wouldn’t have had this hangover if Jiao Ziyu hadn’t brought alcohol into the picture. Granted, he would’ve still had the grievances that had encouraged him to drink in the first place, and the person in front of him was partially responsible for at least a third of them.
“You know you shouldn’t drink,” Mingyue said, taking a seat before grabbing hold of his wrist.
“Then don’t give me so many reasons to drink,” Yi Yeguang answered right back, closing his eyes at the feel of those cold fingertips against his skin.
By now, the buzz of the alcohol had since long faded, leaving behind an aching exhaustion as Yi Yeguang found himself subjected to some investigative prodding – it was quite gentle though, so light that it almost tickled.
“Did you suffer another attack last night?”
“Not really.” He had experienced something of an ambush though, but didn’t really see the need to bring it up. Peak Lord Cheng was hardly to blame after all. “So?”
Mingyue said nothing for a good while, and even without looking, Yi Yeguang could vividly picture the way the other’s eyebrows knitted together in deep concentration.
“Looks like you’re mostly fine,” the Peak Lord eventually concluded, gradually withdrawing his spiritual presence. “But next time you drink, I’m going to feed you poison – the painful but nonlethal sort.”
Ah. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
If one were to use but a single word to describe the relationship in-between Yi Yeguang and the current Peak Lord Bai, it would’ve probably been ‘complicated’.
In slightly more elaborate terms, it would’ve been ‘complicated but not adversary’ or ‘complicated but generally amicable’ – albeit not necessarily amicable in a sense that ordinary people would understand. Calling it ‘an alliance of mutual convenience’ would’ve also been reasonably appropriate. Still⸺
“Here,” Mingyue said, presenting Yi Yeguang with a medicinal pill that he took without question, trusting the other not to poison him at this point in time.
And frankly, Yi Yeguang wouldn’t really have minded it if he did – it would’ve only been fair, after all.
“Well,” he said, feeling decidedly better after taking it – poison or not. “Looks like none of you will have to replace me for the time being. I’m sure everyone will be greatly relieved to hear that.”
And indeed, they would, because if Yi Yeguang could no longer perform his duties as Sect Leader, then one of them – the seven remaining Peak Lords – would have to step in as his temporary or permanent replacement.
Mingyue certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with such responsibilities, and would likely defect if such responsibilities were to be foisted upon him.
As for the rest, going by order of seniority, Peak Lord Huang would laugh right in the face of anyone suggesting it and then fly off into the sunset, still laughing, to continue his life as a rogue cultivator.
As for Peak Lord Lin, the man could’ve certainly managed the financial aspect of things. However, he was much too old and too set in his ways to deal with the rest, and Peak Lord Wen was pretty much the same; the library and the archives were her domain, and not much else could fit into it.
Peak Lord Xiu would’ve been an acceptable candidate in terms of age, given that she was neither too young nor too old to take on the position. However, even if she hadn’t been the Peak Lord dealing primarily with the teaching of art and music, picking her would’ve been inadvisable for other reasons.
As for Peak Lord Jiao, the man would likely have enough knowledge and adaptability to manage the position at least temporarily, even if he ultimately lacked the charisma for it. Also, with Mingyue at his side, Yi Yeguang doubted that the other would even need it.
As for Peak Lord Cheng, well, he was the most talented swordsman they had and one of their top martial artists on top of that. Furthermore, he had an excellent disposition – serious, competent, loyal – to the extent that he was practically the embodiment of the image conjured up whenever anyone mentioned a ‘Sword Saint’ or even a ‘Sword Emperor’. He was easy on the eyes too, although that wasn’t necessarily such a good thing in this case.
Peak Lord Cheng required no embellishments in order to make himself pleasing to the eye – to Yi Yeguang’s eye, at any rate. The other rarely wore such embellishments either, save for on formal occasions, and even then, they tended to be sparse.
His hair – long, black and undeniably well-kept – was typically worn in a high ponytail and secured with a simple cord, the jade hair crown typically forgotten. The hairstyle made sense though, keeping his hair out of his eyes while providing any onlookers a far better view of his stern but nevertheless striking features – his square chin, his broad forehead, his pronounced eyebrows and his undeniably piercing gaze.
Granted, Peak Lord Cheng wasn’t one to display a whole lot of facial expressions, favouring mostly blank or neutral ones that many tended to interpret as a scowl. Yi Yeguang wasn’t among them though, having had plenty of practice interpreting the facial expressions of Bai Mingyue.
Besides, even if Peak Lord Cheng had been as bad-tempered as some believed, Yi Yeguang would’ve still found him appealing. Truth to be told, Yi Yeguang would’ve probably liked him even if he hadn’t been physically appealing – broad-shouldered and with lean muscle and good posture; the epitome of a sword cultivator, wielding his blade with the sort of graceful precision someone like Yi Yeguang could only dream of emulating.
However, while Peak Lord Cheng was an excellent Peak Lord and an excellent swordsman and an excellent martial artist and an excellent specimen all around, he honestly couldn’t be viewed as a viable candidate for the position of Sect Leader – and putting him in said position with all the administrative duties it entailed would’ve been a waste of the man’s talents.
Granted, with sufficient support, that sort of thing could’ve been circumvented, at least a certain degree. But what couldn’t have been quite so easily circumvented was Peak Lord Cheng’s character; his heart and mind.
He was... stubborn, to an extent. Persistent. In many ways, it was a useful, even admirable trait. In this case however⸺
Yi Yeguang buried his face in his hands – not a particularly dignified move, but with all due honesty, even with the rejuvenation from the medicine, Yi Yeguang still felt like shit, and with Mingyue being the only witness, he didn’t really mind showing it either. They had both seen one another at some pretty low points, so this was really nothing new under the sun.
“Your hair’s a mess,” said Peak Lord noted.
Yi Yeguang snorted. Because⸺ “I don’t want to hear that from you.”
He didn’t, but at the same time⸺
“Sit up properly and turn around,” Mingyue said. “I don’t have all day.”
Yi Yeguang blinked at the sight of the comb in the other’s hand. He didn’t see it for very long though, as the other practically manhandled him into position.
“Since when do you carry a comb?” Yi Yeguang asked, unable to help himself, and he was met with stubborn silence. The other’s movements conveyed some degree of irritation though – not that unexpected per se, even if Yi Yeguang struggled to think of any specific reason for it. It could’ve hardly been because of his comment about the comb though. Then again⸺ “Ouch.”
Yeah, ouch. Big ouch.
“Is this really necessary?” Yi Yeguang asked, quite pained. “I’m pretty sure you’re upset with me right now, but I’m not sure I understand why and I’d like to know why before you pull out all of my hair!”
At this, there was a definite scoff, and the hair pulling lessened but only slightly.
“Stop talking,” Mingyue then said, and Yi Yeguang opted to play it safe and do just that. It still hurt, but now, it hurt considerably less.
As ever, you suck at managing your strength when you’re upset, Yi Yeguang privately thought, closing his eyes.
