“Do you… know what this jade is?” Qin Beixuan asked tentatively.
Zhao Chen’an turned the pendant over in his hand and held it up to the light. “Isn’t it just Hetian jade? Does it have another name?”
Qin Beixuan felt a sudden, inexplicable relief when Zhao didn’t recognize it. He plucked the pendant from Zhao’s fingers and fastened it at his belt with careful, practiced movements. “Looks like Hetian jade to me. I happened to be wanting a pendant—thank you.”
Zhao scratched the side of his face, puzzled. Why did his senior seem so relieved?
“Oh, you said earlier you had something urgent—what was it?” Zhao remembered Qin’s earlier words; their conversation had been derailed by the jade.
Qin’s expression tightened. “The Phoenix Seal at Lianhua Mountain has been stolen.”
“What?!” Zhao sprang up so hard his chair screeched along the floor. “The phoenix tribulation hasn’t even come, and two Phoenix Seals are already gone. That leaves only us at Ziwei Mountain—Chaos is really pushing its luck.”
Qin rubbed his forehead, fatigue thinly veiled in his voice. “Master has ordered us to go to Lianhua to investigate immediately. The phoenix tribulation is next month.”
“Yi Huachi’s mysterious suicide, and now the Phoenix Seal theft at Lianhua,” Zhao muttered, thinking aloud. “Any casualties among the disciples?”
Qin spoke slowly, each word measured. “Second Elder of Lianhua, Jiang Jinghe, was gravely wounded. She did not survive.”
Zhao’s face went blank.
Another elder-level casualty… Had she been touched by Chaos’s power too, and then, like Yi Huachi, completed some grim task before taking her own life?
“When do we leave for Lianhua?” Zhao asked.
“Now.”
*
Lianhua Mountain was different from other realms. Women there held high, public positions—officials, merchants—and could even take multiple husbands. The sectmaster and the elder lineages, past and present, were female. Sectmaster Jiang Qionglan, admired by the people, currently led Lianhua; her sister had been Second Elder Jiang Jinghe. Jiang Jinghe’s husband was Wan Mingcheng, eldest son of the Wan family, the wealthiest clan on Lianhua.
Qin filled Zhao in on these facts as they made their way to Lianhua.
The architecture at Lianhua lacked Ziwei’s ethereal, gardened grace, but it had an austere dignity that made visitors feel the weight of the place. The mood there was muted, heavy as incense smoke, and every step seemed to draw the air closer.
A disciple led them into the main hall, where a woman in plain white stood. She was hollowed by grief—cheeks sunken, eyes rimmed red—yet her bearing remained noble, almost regally composed. This had to be Jiang Qionglan.
“The guests from Ziwei have arrived,” the disciple announced with a deep, respectful bow.
Jiang Qionglan waved him off and turned to them. “Please, sit. My sister will be interred in a few days; there is much to arrange and I fear the household cannot entertain you properly. I ask your indulgence.”
Her voice faltered for a moment and she added more steadily, “I’ll do what I can, but in the coming days I may be otherwise occupied.”
“Thank you,” Zhao said, then asked, “Were the disciples guarding the Phoenix Seal unharmed?”
Jiang Qionglan shook her head, every motion sincere. “None survived.”
The answer fit what Zhao had suspected.
“Did the Second Elder show any unusual behavior before she died—any sign she’d been practicing forbidden arts?” Zhao pressed.
Jiang blinked, puzzled. “No. Why do you ask, Immortal?”
Zhao told her, in broad strokes, about the events at Hundun Palace. Jiang’s eyes widened; her tongue seemed to falter in disbelief. “So there’s a mole in Lianhua… Jinghe’s death may not have been an accident.”
“Exactly,” Zhao said.
Who, then, could have synchronized with Chaos, killed Jiang Jinghe, and walked away untouched? The thought gnawed at him: if she hadn’t conspired with Chaos, who else could do such a thing? Dozens of guards dead without a single survivor—whoever did it used a cruelty precise enough to wipe anyone out.
Qin hesitated, then said, “Sectmaster Jiang, I have a method to locate the traitor quickly, but it requires one drop of your sister’s blood.”
Jiang’s hesitation was visible; the request bordered on sacrilege. Qin saw it and added gently, “If you refuse, I will find another way.”
“Is it the fastest way?” she asked.
“It is,” Qin replied without hesitation.
Jiang closed her eyes a moment, torn between propriety and the possibility of justice. “If it can bring the killer to light, then… do what you must. I believe Jinghe would understand.”
Zhao was surprised at how readily she agreed. Many would have refused outright.
Qin bowed. “Thank you.”
Zhao tugged at Qin’s sleeve and whispered, “What will you do with the blood?”
Their hands nearly touched beneath the sleeve; they felt the warmth of each other’s fingers. Qin’s thumb gave a faint, involuntary tremor.
“The Sympathy Array,” Qin answered softly. “It’s a high-level formation from Ziwei. It must be drawn with the victim’s blood. Once complete, it will resonate with the killer and reveal traces—bloodmarks that cannot be hidden, no matter how many layers of clothing.”
He explained further: the mark was said to be left by the victim’s lingering resentment, a trace of the soul’s pain that would cling to the murderer if they were truly responsible.
Jiang descended the dais and led them to the mourning hall. Lianhua had placed Jiang Jinghe’s spirit-repose in the Everlight Hall atop a side peak. Longlit lamps burned there, for the dead to find peace.
Inside, Jiang Jinghe lay on a bed of lotus petals. Her skin was the color of unbaked porcelain, yet she looked as if asleep—peaceful and removed from the world’s cruelty, an innocent figure preserved in a moment of stillness.
“This is my sister,” Jiang Qionglan said, her voice breaking. She deliberately turned her face away from the still form, stubbornly refusing to look. It was clear she could not bear the sight; better to think of Jinghe as merely sleeping.
Qin inclined his head to indicate she need not stay. “If you learn anything, please inform us at once.”
Jiang Qionglan wiped her eyes, steadying herself, and left to attend to the disciples within the sect.