The day’s rain paused before Hao reached the other side of the Sect.

  A place far more secluded than the paths that were lined with caves, buildings, and ruins. There wasn’t a servant in sight. Just the stony ascent, a path lined on either side with grass and flowers, and a smooth slope labeled only by a small sign with the character for ‘Five’ painted in bold blue paint.

  Hao couldn’t see the peak from the bottom of the slope. Clouds covered the sky year-round, especially now with the change in season being so recent.

  Well, it’s not called the Upper Peaks just to make disciples feel like ants…

  Hao had seen the peaks from a distance—everyone had, but standing at the base of one, forced to look up at the clouds and sun, it was a different feeling. It made his chest tighten up.

  The Upper Peaks, where Elders resided and disciples considered worthy, could cultivate. The walk up was cold.

  Clouds became less of an obstacle the further up the mountain Hao went, where they finally touched the land, a gate. Nothing special, a few pieces of wood stuck together. Droplets of coalescing water ran down it, from top to bottom, as the clouds brushed off its moisture on the structure, written on it in more of the same blue paint:

  Sky Flower Peak.

  Hao had heard the name of the peak was given for the countless blue flowers that only increased in number as he got closer to the top.

  They were herbs, not spiritual in any way. Though they were famed amongst disciples, the deep blue color, which turned sky blue when diluted, made for great ink and paint, and of course, the drunks found it pleasant, for its sweet, but astringent taste that pairs well in wine. The flowers had no use outside of that. Except for the beautiful blue petals that livened up the green mountain in the same way they flavored the cup they would be dropped into.

  Hao walked beneath it. He was about to step into the clouds when a voice called to him.

  “Wait!”

  Floating down from the sky, a man who had more wisdom in his eyes than his young appearance would let him gather in his short time alive. Still, appearing middle-aged meant little on this mountain. That rule had even more of an effect up here on the Upper Peaks.

  “You are rather easy to recognize. But I’d be a fool if I believed any rumors about the half-Islander after seeing your appearance.”

  The man touched down on the ground. With a swipe of his hand, the water that had gathered on his robe from flying through a rain cloud was pulled away and dropped to the ground in a small puddle.

  Hao prepared himself to bow in greeting. A person who could fly was clearly his senior in strength, but before Hao could cup his hands, the man was right in front of him.

  He took a few more steps, short and tepid-looking—like a scholar with his raven black hair tied back in a bun, “Your strength is not bad either…”

  The man put a hand on one of Hao’s raised elbows and tugged upwards. It was a subtle, light movement. Yet Hao felt the strength of the man in the action, too great to put into words, not an Elder, certainly not, but as if a boulder tied to his elbow suddenly shot up in the sky.

  “There is no need to bow,” he said.

  Hao pulled himself straight against the man’s gesture, sliding the Elder Badge with the word ‘Fourth’ written on it. Presenting it while keeping it close.

  “Senior Brother, I’m here to redeem a favor. My name is Hao,” his words calm despite the turmoil in his heart. The turmoil must have been evident in his face or the way he carried himself. He knew it was affecting his cultivation. That voice that surfaced in meditation, the way this man looked at him, like he was listening, inspecting him for something. It made Hao think this person could see him down to his marrow.

  “There is no need for that,” The man opened his hands, “I can tell you are in no mood for it. I will take you to my eldest brother. You can present the token to him. He will take care of what you need him to. He is in charge of the peak while Master isn’t around.”

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  “Well?” He said, turning so his side was facing Hao.

  Hao nodded, and the man moved to place a hand on Hao’s stitched-together shoulder, his fingers twitched as if noticing the wounds on Hao’s body. “You can call me Senior Brother. But I would prefer Senior Brother Que when we meet my Eldest Brother, the name will be a good way to avoid confusion. Everyone on this peak is your Senior in both age and cultivation, but I can see you’ve had a dramatic rise in the past months… strength-wise at least.”

  World Energy swirled around the man. Then it came to a sudden calm as he lifted his feet, he stepped one, the air acting as a stair for his foot. It was effortless for him. At least easy enough for him to cast a few piercing gazes back at Hao.

  “Senior Brother… Que seems to recognize me, you—” Hao asked, but his words stopped as his weight disappeared.

  “By rumor and appearance. Also, Master came to the peak at the beginning of last summer, laughing about a new disciple that he gave a token to for giving him a laugh, and to make the First Elder mad, of course.” His eyes flicked back to Hao a few more times.

  Hao was gently lifted into the air. It was his second time being carried into the sky, something he didn’t imagine he could get used to. It was easier this time; he could talk.

  “So… Senior Brother Que, you are the Fourth Elder’s disciple? And the Elder is missing?” Hao asked, a little hesitant with his words, who would ask questions if a random disciple had fallen from such a peak.

  “There is no need to worry, we disciples share his authority when sitting on the mountain peak, but if you wish to wait for him, he doesn’t stay on the peak for long. Even less time when we have guests…” Senior Brother Que said it all with grace until the last few words.

  Hao could tell from the way he said ‘guest’ that Hao wasn’t the only one who was visiting the peak. There was a mention of a guest long ago when he first joined the Sect. And again, when he was at the mine, he didn’t forget the face of the man who pulled the source stone from his bag, and put him on the First Elders’ radar.

  The two traveled the rest of the way in silence. Clouds parted as they passed, until it was just the sun above and flowers below, the clouds just a bumpy plane stretched out behind them. There were people around. Not many, but the number increased as they got higher. A few looked up from whatever task they were performing—unfazed by the flying man and the disciple he dragged behind. Back down their heads went to sweeping, weeding, and eating.

  Most didn’t bother looking. They sat in Cultivation, World Energy folding around them, and those exercising were the same—air wrapped around them like it did on a black roof under the summer sun.

  But even those diligent disciples were a minority up here. Young men and women all stood and stared at a pit carved into the mountaintop. Solid stone carved round and wide with raised rows for seats.

  At the center, a face Hao would never forget, a strong-featured beauty with striking dark hair. Pulled straight from the painting of a female hero. Her robes were different from Hao’s and anyone else’s, silverly-white, with blue accents and gold threads at the near-invisible seams.

  Hao opened his mouth and muttered. “That’s the girl who dragged me to the sect.”

  Que whispered, his voice largely buried under the laugh he stifled, “Girl? Oh, Junior Zu Wairen did, huh? That must be quite the story; perhaps you two can share it sometime.”

  The girl Zu, as Brother Qu called her, stood still, her eyes closed, with a leaf twice as large as she was at her side. She stood, eyes closed. Hand against the center vein of the leaf, soon it started to float.

  Hao passed right over. The leaf’s face was pointed, appearing almost like a boat to him, then it started to sink, wobble, go back to being steady, and wobble again.

  Senior Brother Que pulled Hao down with him to the ground. They were on the path again. Que stopped to watch, his feet settling softly on the path once again.

  Zu Wairen started to float up. Not far, just far enough from the ground to pass a fist under her, when she opened her eyes, the leaf moved in a routine. There was violence in the flow.

  A green flash that spun and flowed, tearing up the wind with a near soundless fury. Then it slowed, and Zu’s hand moved; it began again.

  Hao could see it, the death and pain such a seemingly simple object could cause, lost limbs, open arteries, stinging all over like thin harmless cuts from paper—but there was nothing harmless.

  Yet no one watching acted as if they didn’t see the violence. Only the dance of the movements. Blushed faces and wide gazes of awe and admiration, even from those more powerful, with Qi rolling down the open jaws.

  With a snap, it all stopped. Her finger pointed out, and the leaf floated to her side, its edge crimped from the forces it endured, still in one piece, which was a marvel on its own.

  Zu Wairen floated back down. Her eyes went back to a closed rest until she touched the ground, and the droplets of sweat smoothed flat on her pale, jade-like skin. Finally, the leaf fell flat on the stones, and she sighed.

  “Good! Well done.” A voice rang like a gong in a cabin.

  It was a voice Hao knew, and a bald head he knew even better, just at the side of the tiny arena with his silver robes spotless and seamless—the man who found the Source Stone. The one who exposed it simply used it to taunt and test the First Elder, nearly getting Hao killed in the process.

  Zu Wairen, who brought Hao here and here, Master. Those were the guests on this mountain peak. Guests in the Sect, not just on the peak, are members of one of two hegemons in the region, the Soaring Sect. Hao had only heard the name in passing, never given it a thought. The only thing he knew was that they wanted the entire region subordinated.

  Que pulled on Hao’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Try not to look at everyone like you’re going to suck out their blood.”