266 Envoys of Power
266 Envoys of Power
I studied the three of them, my mask hiding the smirk tugging at my lips. “Your names?” I asked, then waved dismissively before they could answer. “Ah no, never mind. I don’t want to get attached to you fools. From this point on, you are Goatee, Wrinkly, and Oldie.”
The woman snapped forward in outrage, pointing a trembling finger at me. “I don’t even have wrinkles! I use the best of the best skincare—”
“Shut it, Wrinkly,” I cut her off, my tone sharp as a blade. “Or do you want me to break your neck right now?”
Her lips sealed instantly, though her cheeks burned with fury.
We’ve returned to my office, the so-called envoys forced to sit before me like chastised students. Wrinkly now wore a plain robe one of my attendants had fetched, her skin glistening from the layers of ointments her healer slathered on her burns. Goatee reclined stiffly, an attendant pressing healing qi into the swollen bump on his head, his proud demeanor crumbling with every wince. Oldie sat cross-legged, one of his disciples channeling energy into his battered shoulder while the man himself tried to keep his composure, his eyes flicking toward me with concealed irritation. The proud envoys of the Union, Martial Alliance, and Heavenly Temple was reduced to such a sorry state right under my roof.
Goatee spoke first, puffing his chest even as his attendant dabbed at his temple. “You’ve made a grave mistake. The Martial Alliance doesn’t forgive humiliation. Align yourself with us now, and perhaps your tiny kingdom won’t be trampled beneath our armies.”
Wrinkly leaned forward, still covering half her body with the oversized robe. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you can ignore us. The Union has roots across continents. Align with us, and you’ll enjoy power, prestige, and endless wealth. Oppose us, and you’ll find your floating city starved of resources.”
Oldie, calm and deliberate, rested his hand over the haft of his spear, seemingly distrustful of me. “The Heavenly Temple doesn’t concern itself with petty negotiations. We decide what is sacred order. Should you choose to resist, the heavens will mark you for destruction. Better to yield now, Willow Sovereign, and your name will echo through generations as the one who had the wisdom to bow.”
I listened, the pressure in the room building with their arrogance. Part of me longed to snap their necks and be done with the posturing, but I forced that thought down. Losing my temper would make me look like Da Wei… What I needed now was the mask of a ruler, someone above them, untouchable and flamboyant.
I leaned back, letting silence stretch until their words withered into unease. Finally, I spread my arms in mock magnanimity. “Align myself with you? Hah! To tie myself to suspicious organizations desperate for relevance? That is beneath me. I will stand sovereign, untethered, and you will sit there and remember this truth: this city bends for no one.”
Of course, my distrust was met with affront and disbelief as each and every one of them had something to say. Wrinkly flung up her hands in exasperation, hissing that my stance was shortsighted and that no ruler worth their salt could survive without the Union’s patronage. Goatee sneered, trying to remind me how the Martial Alliance had birthed legends that spanned thousands of years, and that only a fool would dismiss such a lineage. Oldie, his voice smooth yet weighty, spoke of divine order and balance, accusing me of arrogance for turning my back on the Heavenly Temple.
“Do you even understand what you’re rejecting? The Union has kept sovereigns alive for centuries by guiding them with resources, trade, and order. You think your little domain can endure without our patronage? You’ll collapse before you even learn what true governance means.”
“The Martial Alliance has birthed legends that shaped entire continents. Without our discipline and strength, this world would have fallen into chaos a hundred times over. Only a fool would dismiss the backing of our halls. Do you think power alone makes you untouchable? You’ll find otherwise soon enough.”
“Your arrogance blinds you, child. The Heavenly Temple is the axis upon which heaven and earth still balance. Every emperor, every sect master, every sovereign who prospered—prospered because the Temple allowed it. To turn your back on divine order is to invite calamity not only upon yourself, but upon those who follow you. You presume too much.”
Their words poured into the room like an avalanche of indignation, each trying to drown me with prestige, reputation, and menace, as if their centuries-old banners still held weight before me.
I let them fume, then calmly placed a stack of items upon the table. A few papers, thin tomes, and even a handful of crude paintings… all centered on one face: mine. These were the fragments I had scrounged from passing cultivators, traveling scholars, and friendly diplomats willing to share their archives. Da Wei. The name that carried venom in every syllable beyond these walls. To the rest of the world, Da Wei was not a man, but a calamity incarnate, the demon who shattered the Summit of the Four Powers, reducing it forever to three. Where once the Empire stood, now only left in isolation, leaving behind the Heavenly Temple, the Martial Alliance, and the Union. Pffft. And here before me sat their “diplomats.” Diplomats? Envoys? What a farce. Who among the Eighth Realm ever asked for permission? No one. Power was its own truth.
I leaned forward and began to speak, my tone calm yet sharp enough to cut stone. “Have you read this fine pieces of scriptures before me? Glanced at it? Records of enlightenment I swore probably got banned more often than wicked arts and forbidden techniques?” I asked, sliding the tomes toward them. “What you call rebellion, others called resistance. The cultivator you damned as the Unholy Taint, Da Wei, acted in answer to the abomination you sanctified as the Cleanse. Entire civilizations were butchered, their sparks of life extinguished, all to preserve this fragile little world order you clutch like cowards. You call it righteous, yet it reeks of genocide.”
I watched them shift, ever so slightly, as I pressed on. “And you expect me to throw my lot in with you? To swear myself to tyrants who cloak their atrocities in the mantle of order and justice? Tell me, which of you would walk the streets of a dead world and dare say your actions were holy? Which of you would face the ashes of slaughtered children and call it balance?”
Their faces tightened, but I wasn’t done. I laughed, cold and dismissive. “You speak of prestige, of ancient traditions, of temples and armies. I see only exploitation of the weak, warmongering that never ends, and a system that devours anyone too small to matter. You ask me to join you?”
I sighed loudly, leaning back in my chair with exaggerated weariness, letting the sound echo off the chamber walls. My hand slapped the table with finality. “No. You can’t have my allegiance.”
It looked like our little meeting was circling the drain when Oldie finally pushed back his chair and stood up, his disciple trailing behind like an obedient shadow. His expression was stone, voice clipped as he announced, “It looks like this is a waste of time.”
I leaned back and tapped my desk with two fingers, a smile tugging at my lips. “Did I allow you to leave just yet?” My tone suggested I’m not done yet.
“Clearly, this is pointless,” scoffed Goatee. “Why continue this charade?”
“Because I don’t want any of you three fuckheads to try something shady and send an army after my city,” I confessed without flinching. Wrinkly replied with a mocking laugh. “As you said, we are from a righteous faction. Why would we declare war on your city without righteous cause?”
The irony nearly choked me. From her mouth of all people.. The Union’s envoy, a woman who represented a world power built on war profiteering, hidden massacres, and the warmongering tendencies of merchants with too much gold and too little conscience.
Oldie raised his spear slightly, eyes glinting with sanctimonious fire. “This demon, Da Wei… Do you not see what he has done? All he has ever accomplished is divide us. His lips are poison, his promises nothing but ruin. And even if it were true, even if his accusations held weight, slaughtering the outsiders would have been a service, not a sin. Wouldn’t you defend your home if it were under attack?”
Goatee clicked his tongue, leaning forward with open contempt. “I don’t know about this Cleanse talk, but I do know for sure it’s irrelevant. For all I care, the Cleanse is fake.”
I rested my chin on my palm and smirked. “Oh, it is real.”
That stopped them, if only for a heartbeat. Oldie walked closer, his spear thumping against the polished floor with each deliberate step, trying to give his words gravity. “How do you know that?” he asked coldly, then gestured toward the walls around us. “Hmmm… the nature of this floating city of yours is suspicious. Appearing out of nowhere, like a realm dragged from the Greater Universe and forced into ours. What do you say about that?”
I almost laughed at his attempt to scare me. He wanted to corner me with suspicion, to twist half-truths into accusations, but I’d played this game long enough to know that lying to a liar was as natural as breathing.
If he wanted a performance, then a performance he would get. I rose slowly, meeting his glare with mine, and let the silence stretch until it snapped. “Because I am Da Wei,” I said, my voice sharp as steel.
The room exploded into chaos. The three of them shot up from their chairs, disbelief painted across their faces. Goatee’s saber hissed free from its sheath, Wrinkly’s fan snapped open with a flick, and Oldie’s spear gleamed with killing intent. For a heartbeat, the air was tight enough to suffocate.
Bitch, please.
How was it a lie that I was Da Wei when in fact I’m Da Wei? Pretty simple, really. Semantics.
I reached up and peeled away the wooden mask covering my face. With a whisper of quintessence, I bent creation itself and reshaped my features. The left half twisted into a scarred ruin, jagged lines carving down through cheek and jaw as if torn by a god’s fury. The right half I remade flawless, with a pair of vivid blue eyes and long blonde lashes that drew attention whether one wanted to or not. Beauty and ruin side by side, a reflection of the duality I embodied… monster or hero, depending on who whispered my name.
I looked at them evenly and let my words hang like thunder. “If I were to suffer the tyranny the same way the lot of you showed my subordinate, I can become another Da Wei. And this is true for every territory under your reign, whether big or small. Rebellion doesn’t start from a united voice, but from the smallest whimper.” I leaned forward, fingers tapping the table once before tightening into a fist. “I just want you to understand… to never throw your weight on my city, to never claim anything here that isn’t yours, and most importantly, to leave my city untouched. You might not have my allegiance, but we can still prosper together. A floating city like mine is unique in every way. I am willing to provide blueprints of the technology at my disposal, but only if you treat me fairly. There is no need for hostility. We are above that. We might’ve started off on the wrong foot, but that doesn’t mean we must be enemies.”
I wasn’t an idiot. I couldn’t risk open hostility with these so-called world powers, but I also couldn’t let them push me around. What I’d shown them here was no small spectacle from my cultivation, my authority, and my control. Yet I knew they weren’t here because of that alone. The truth was simpler and sharper. They only took notice of us, even this early, because of the technology we wielded, artifacts forged in a qi-deprived world, designs born from desperation and ingenuity, vastly different from the stale relics and spiritual contraptions this Hollowed World had been using for centuries.
The three of them exchanged glances, their earlier arrogance tempered, though not erased. Oldie’s grip loosened slightly on his spear, Wrinkly lowered her fan, and Goatee sheathed his saber with deliberate slowness. One by one, they gave their answer.
“I will be thinking about it,” Wrinkly said coldly.
“You’ll hear from me tomorrow,” Oldie added with a curt nod.
Goatee smirked, as though he wanted the last word. “Yes, tomorrow. Don’t disappoint.”
And just like that, the storm abated.
Frankly, behind their backs?
Fuck them.