Hao paid attention to every movement and sound made in the crowd. What he knew was known by almost no one. The words had hidden intentions, their meaning long buried in the manipulation of passions and discontent.

  The First Elder had spun a web of opportunity.

  Not many went to the Secret Realm, but those who did had the same insight as Hao. Soon, the rumor would spread of the true circumstances. If the disciples would listen was another question. They would rather lick the hand of the one they fed them than open their mouths to risk a bite.

  He looked for possible allies in the First Elder’s enemies. In all the discontent of the Elders, only the Seventh Elder, gray in hair and beard, wore his anger. His face had long turned red. Ready to explode into a mist at any second.

  The only Elder who was smiling was the Fourth. The rest of them had lowered their eyebrows, in either disappointment or disapproval.

  * * * The Elder’s Box * * *

  While the Elders' emotions were shrouded from their faces, tension was a sheet of dragon skin so thick a spear from the heavens could not pierce it.

  The First Elder, Guo Yin Jing, ignored the heated stares behind him, remembering how he felt when a pagoda of bad news fell up his ears. He felt nothing but rage towards his disciple, Mo Bangcai. He didn’t hesitate to beat the boy senseless. The fool was already bloodied from his battles, but being in public in such an embarrassing state, Yin Jing made sure he had a few more scars to count.

  He thought he would have to take endless blame for his disciples’ actions, and he should have. However, Yin Jing knew himself as a true genius, one of a kind.

  Don’t let your wit blind you from your goals. Yin Jing remembered his father's last words before falling to the demonic Dao while listening to the bugs below cheer.

  All it took was a little help from unwitty participants, and he found a way to boost himself and his disciple out of the hole the boy had dug for both of them. With this, he brought himself even higher in the small minds that cheered before him.

  Once the boy, Bangcai, won the trial and chose his First Peak, he became an official disciple. Then off to the Bone-Shaking trial with him.

  If he could make the Sect witness Bangcai ring the bell, even if he didn’t, they would have no choice but to call him Young Patriarch. If ever thought of him as Young Patriarch, then the First Elder was the Master of the next Sect Master.

  The words of the other Elders would be nothing. That little rodent that rang the bell at the beginning of this summer would be forgotten.

  As the Master to the next Sect Master, they would think of him as the Sect Master as long as that old fool Meng Nai Xu didn’t return any time soon, again.

  Even if Bangcai failed him, he had a backup plan; His lord was still in seclusion.

  “There are quite a few strong ones. Hoho, they all seem eager,” The Third Elder walked up beside Yin Jing and looked down on the pockets of disciples that formed. “However, I cannot say I like any of this. Only the Sect Master can announce a Peak Ascension Ceremony.”

  The old man was red with indignation; he had been played for a fool. Yin Jing always thought he was a fool, never moving past his station, always wallowing in his cowardice.

  The Fourth Elder slithered up to the left shoulder of the Yin Jing, “The Sect Master visited while the Secret Realm was ongoing. Now, when will he return? Three years, four, or many, many more? It's a perfect time to host a competition, isn't it? If not, know when? When the sun never rises or sets. Or when the Soaring Sects' Civil War we are forced to endure is over?”

  The Fourth Elder slinked back, “I know the Third Elder has his own Disciples he would like to bet on, why not make it so. I know where I will lay my jade and silver.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Guo Yin Jing spun, looking over the lot of them, his fellow Elders. To his left, Young Eighth: all talent without a spine. The senseless Sixth, the righteous Seventh, and the old hypocrite Third. To his right, his pet dog, the Fourth Elder. His greatest annoyance, the broken Fifth.

  The last sat calm and cold, the foolish Second Elder. Fang Qing Shui. The woman who should have ruled the Sect with him and given birth to his son instead of that servant girl whom she had cried for years ago.

  Yin Jing wore a glowing smile, “Fellow Elders. Now that the announcement is made, we will need to meet to discuss the plan. I hope to have it all ready before the arrival of summer.”

  “Don’t step out too far.” The Fifth Elder, with his walking stick, stepped out in front of the Qing Shui.

  “Too far? Seeking the boundary and pushing beyond, that is part of Cultivation. Have you forgotten this Fifth Brother?” Guo Yin Jing scratched his chin as he walked backwards into the air.

  “Don’t think everyone will indulge you after all that has happened.” The Seventh Elder moved over next to the Fifth.

  Yin Jing clicked his tongue, his smile growing to one of mockery, “I had high hopes for you, Little Seven… Enough of you will indulge me, what else can you do?” He pointed down at the crowd beneath him. Then he moved back until he was stood in the air above the Lower Peak disciples, floating.

  He raised his arms high and shouted. “The Ascension of any and all disciples is urgent! Therefore, the first part of the competition will start in the summer, and it will end before this time next year!”

  Elders scowled, and the crowds screamed. Yin Jing's face of contempt was hidden from those below him. He made his exit in that moment, letting no rebuke be spoken, not while the disciples cheered for him and his words.

  The First Elder vanished from the Arena, walking back towards his peak. The Fourth Elder was quick to follow.

  The Third Elder stepped forward in his place, but didn’t address the crowd while looking over them from the mountain's drop. “That little wolf mocks the entire sect… not just us. He doesn’t understand his father’s own sacrifice for our survival.”

  Fang Qing Shui stood, golden light hiding her face, “Do not forget, he may be that man’s son, but he is also that man’s grandson.”

  All the Elders were still present, but the Eight went pale at those words.

  “We all spoke against Sect Master Meng when he denounced him when he was a boy.” The Fifth lifted his cane and flexed the fibers. “In a bloodline curse by the Demonic Dao, only one has been able to resist it by ending his own life… we were all blind from the beginning except the Sect Master.”

  The Third Elder chucked, “It makes you wonder if that bloodline is a curse or a blessing for this Sect.” His eyes flicked wide with nostalgia. There were days as old as some cultures in his eyes. Those he called Fellow Elders now were children he watched grow, even the gray Fifth and Seventh.

  “This could lead to disaster. We have to address it before it goes too far,” Qing Shui said. “The other Sects in the Southern Tip won’t let us rebuild ourselves a second time.”

  “Don’t worry, Second Sister,” The third spoke, “How could we forget the Sect Master’s effort?” The third responded. “...But, now is not the time to sow dissension in our own ranks either.”

  The Third Elder was amongst those who had yet to be directly wronged by the First Elder and his underlings. This time, those who lacked conviction would be forced to pick a side. This nonsense had been going on long enough.

  Fang Qing Shui bowed to the other Elders and stepped up into the sky, the Fifth Elder following behind.

  “Young Miss, are you worried?” The Fifth Elder asked, pausing above the courtyard.

  “Worried?” She turned, letting the light on her forehead fade, “Of course I’m worried, the disciples high and low have faith in him, but there is no point in wallowing in that any longer.”

  The Fifth’s cane tapped the air. “We will have to show them his true face.”

  “Discredit him and mock him, how pathetic would we look… no, in time, he won’t be able to help but reveal himself. The entire Southern Tip will see what he is. But Yin Jin will try to worm into every mind and make himself a wall of young, naive disciples.

  “Miss…”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle. I won’t let the Drifting Stream Sect suffer much longer. This place is meant to be a mirror of Heaven, not a reflection of a mortal weakness…”

  “You’ve done well enough already… Young Miss.” The Fifth Elder bowed to Fang Qing Shui and returned to his peak, where his disciples await him.

  **

  In the arena, Hao watched the Elders leave one by one. Hall leaders went, disciples from the Upper peaks too, all flew away.

  Hao was amongst the last group to leave as he watched them all interact, while eyeing those who cheered: “First! First! First!”

  And so the board moves, but what of the stones atop it? How did they shuffle? Hao watched the bright dress and glowing light of the Second Elder fade in the distance and part ways with the Fifth Elder.