Chapter 268 — Your Best Storehouse

CHAPTER 268

Your Best Storehouse

Hundred Flower Valley arrived in white carriages with petal-shaped pennants, and the whole yard stopped to look.

Twenty-two disciples stepped down in pale green sashes. Elder Mu Shuyun came first, tall and calm, wearing a sash of a deeper green. She greeted He Zhen with exactly the right bow. Then her eyes travelled across the array yard and rested on the nine grey-faced men in Martial Palace robes sitting on their cots.

“Elder He,” Mu Shuyun said. “Are those our friends from Martial Palace?”

“The advance inspectors,” He Zhen said carefully. “They're… enjoying our hospitality.”

One of the inspectors twitched. Another smiled at nothing.

“Why are they shaking?” a Valley disciple whispered.

“Three nights in the storehouse,” another said. “I heard they were there three nights.”

“Nobody shakes like that over a bed. Where there's no wind, there are no waves.”

“It must be a formation. A hidden one! Crouching tiger, hidden dragon!”

“Artificer Hall's is the weakest sect. They'd never have a real formation.”

“Then why are nine inspectors looking at the wall like that?”

“…”

Shi Feng listened from the court’s edge, with Sima Lan behind him. Fu Zhi’s frightened reports had spread faster than he’d expected. Now even the Valley disciples were searching for a hidden formation. He kept his expression calm.

“Shi Feng,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He turned.

Ling Qingzhu had stepped out of the line.

She wore the Valley's pale green over a violet inner robe, with the white veil lowered. The silver clasp in her hair was perfectly straight. He knew that, because he'd straightened it.

She stopped three paces away.

“Disciple Ling,” Shi Feng said.

“Disciple Shi,” Ling Qingzhu said. Her voice was smooth and even. Behind her, several Valley disciples edged closer pretending to examine the pennants. “I see Artificer Hall hasn't changed its habits.”

“Which habits?” Shi Feng asked.

She looked at the shaking inspectors. Hao Wen, who had been trying to stand, sat down again.

“Did you do this?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“We're a poor sect,” Shi Feng said. “We gave them our best storehouse.”

“Your best storehouse is full of coffins,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Iron ones,” Shi Feng said. “Very good quality.”

Someone in the Valley line made a choking noise. Mu Shuyun, without turning her head, said, “Lin Yue, does someone need water?” and the choking stopped.

Ling Qingzhu pressed her thumb against her sleeve. She was amused and trying not to show it. Shi Feng recognised the faint narrowing at the corners of her eyes, even with the white veil hiding her mouth.

“I assume you've billed them,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“It's on the statement,” Shi Feng said.

“I'm sure it is.” Ling Qingzhu's eyes moved past his shoulder. They settled on the ledger, then on the face above it. “And your princess maid?”

The yard went quiet in a way that suggested it had been waiting for this.

Shi Feng opened his mouth.

“Attendant,” Sima Lan said.

She stepped forward half a pace. Her voice was cool and exact, and it carried across the court without effort.

“Sima Lan. Attendant, under contract, Artificer Hall's outer court,” Sima Lan said. “The title was settled in writing. Clause one. I'd be glad if the Valley used it.”

Ling Qingzhu studied Sima Lan. Sima Lan met her gaze without lowering the ledger. Around them, disciples fell silent and pretended to inspect the carriages. Both women knew the whole yard was listening.

“Attendant,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Of course. I hear the wage is generous.”

“Forty stones a month,” Sima Lan said. “I'd say it isn't, but that would be unprofessional.”

“I see,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Is there anything else, Disciple Ling?” Shi Feng said.

Shi Feng’s tone was civil and distant. Ling Qingzhu was hurt by it. For a moment her composure failed, and he saw it in her eyes before she looked away.

“No,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Nothing at all.”

She turned and walked back to the line, straight-backed. She did not look over her shoulder.

Shi Feng watched her go. Then he stopped watching, because he noticed Sima Lan watching him.

“You answered quickly,” Sima Lan said.

“I answered correctly,” Shi Feng said.

“That's what I said,” Sima Lan said.

A shout came from the far side of the court. Su Wanning had leapt out of the Valley line, her sash crooked and her arms full of bundles.

“It really is him!” Su Wanning cried. “Big Sis Qingzhu, you never said he got taller! And he has a servant—wait, she’s the princess! Heavens!” Ling Qingzhu covered her mouth before she could say more. Su Wanning protested through the hand.

“Wanning,” Ling Qingzhu said, very quietly, “be quiet.”

On the dais, He Zhen cleared his throat and took the draw-box in both hands. The exchange spars would begin tomorrow, he announced, three sects, forty bouts, drawn by lot. Hao Wen's men had brought Martial Palace's slips ahead in a sealed box. He drew the first slip himself. He read it, paused and read it again.

“First bout,” He Zhen said. “Hundred Flower Valley, Disciple Bai Chenxi. Against… Artificer Hall, Sima Lan.”

In the Valley line, a slender woman in white with a long sword at her back raised her eyes and looked straight across the court.