The Rising Stone Sect had many rooms, but only one was fit for its patriarch—a lavish chamber adorned with intricate wood carvings and a view overlooking the serene courtyard. Morning sunlight streamed through the open window, accompanied by the distant chirping of birds. The faint fragrance of incense lingered in the air, blending seamlessly with the aroma of freshly brewed tea.
Seated at a polished wooden table was Patriarch Weh, a slender man with sharp eyes and fresh black hair, untouched by age. He exuded an effortless grace, his every movement deliberate yet relaxed. In his hand, a delicate porcelain cup, steam still rising from its contents. He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth before exhaling in satisfaction.
Across from him, however, sat a stark contrast. Old Fu, hunched slightly, his fingers twitching around the handle of his own teacup. His expression wavered between unease and forced composure, his gaze locked on the liquid before him. The tea was so clear he could see the bottom of the cup, yet his hesitation was painfully obvious.
Patriarch Weh's lips curled into an amused smile. "What's the matter, Old Fu? Please, show me some face." His voice was smooth, almost too polite.
Old Fu swallowed. "O-Of course, Patriarch Weh." His trembling fingers finally lifted the cup, and he took a cautious sip.
The moment the tea touched his tongue, a rush of sweetness followed by a cooling sensation filled his mouth. It was minty, refreshing—like inhaling a breeze in the dead of summer. His erratic breathing slowed, and the tension in his shoulders eased as the tea worked its magic.
"It's great, isn't it?" Patriarch Weh asked, his smile deepening.
Old Fu nodded hurriedly. "Y-Yes… it's very soothing. Patriarch Weh, you truly have an eye for fine tea." He forced a smile, but deep inside, the anxiety remained.
Patriarch Weh let out a light chuckle, setting his cup down on the table with an elegant clink. His fingers tapped idly against the porcelain rim, his sharp eyes never leaving Old Fu's face. The old man was trying his best to appear composed, but the slight tremor in his hands, the way his throat bobbed after swallowing, and the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed him.
Leaning back slightly in his chair, Patriarch Weh exhaled slowly, as if enjoying the lingering aftertaste of the tea. "You flatter me, Old Fu. But I must say, you seem rather… uneasy. Is the tea not to your liking?"
Old Fu's grip on the cup tightened. "N-No, Patriarch. It is exquisite, truly."
Patriarch Weh hummed, resting his chin against his hand. "Good, good. I would hate for my hospitality to go unappreciated." His voice was light, almost playful, but the underlying weight behind his words made the air heavier.
Old Fu forced a chuckle, though it was dry and weak. "Your kindness is overwhelming, Patriarch Weh." He took another sip, this time intentionally slower, hoping the act of drinking would buy him time to calm his nerves. The cool sensation spread through his chest, but it did little to ease the tension in his stomach.
The room was too quiet now. The distant birds had stopped chirping, or maybe he had simply stopped hearing them. The soft breeze through the window barely reached him, and the scent of incense, once calming, now felt suffocating.
Patriarch Weh, ever the gracious host, simply smiled. "Tell me, Old Fu… Have you come to report something?"
Old Fu swallowed hard, his throat dry as he spoke. "I have examined the boy as per your request, Patriarch Weh." His fingers trembled slightly as he clenched them into a fist on his lap. "Just as you suspected… he is in perfect health."
Patriarch Weh, seated comfortably with an air of indifference, glanced out the window. Sunlight filtered through the paper screens, casting soft golden hues across the room. He sighed, his voice calm yet laced with something unreadable. "Not even Soul Rot could claim him…"
Turning his gaze back to Old Fu, he asked, "Do you have any theories as to how he survived?"
Old Fu hesitated. His lips parted, but no words came at first. He shook his head, lowering his gaze. "In all my years, I have never encountered such a case. I cannot explain it, Patriarch Weh. I apologize."
Patriarch Weh leaned back in his chair, a quiet hum escaping his lips. "Perhaps… the heavens favor him."
Old Fu stiffened. (The heavens… favoring Kazel? Impossible.)
Snapping out of his thoughts, he quickly reassured, "You need not worry, Patriarch. I have already taken precautions. Before I left, I provided him with another ten pills—each designed to induce the same affliction."
Weh arched a brow, though his expression remained unreadable. "And you are certain he will take them?"
Old Fu allowed himself a small, confident smile. "My relationship with his parents is… well-nurtured. Even if he refuses to take the pills himself, I doubt he would reject them outright—not when they are presented under the guise of filial duty."
Weh remained silent for a moment, his fingers tracing the rim of his teacup. Then, he exhaled lightly and shook his head. "It hardly matters now."
Old Fu blinked in confusion. "Patriarch?"
Weh smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "The engagement has already been dissolved. That was my primary goal. Whether he lives or dies is ultimately irrelevant now." He swirled his tea absentmindedly before continuing, "However… the fact that he not only recovered but also had the audacity to return and stir trouble within my sect."
Old Fu hesitated before offering an explanation. "Perhaps it is a side effect of whatever saved him."
Weh chuckled softly. "Perhaps."
But his eyes held a glint of something far less dismissive.
Patriarch Weh set his teacup down and rose to his feet, offering his hand with a polite smile. "Thank you for your service, Old Fu. I will call upon you again should I require more of your expertise."
Old Fu quickly stood as well, but in his haste, his thigh bumped against the low table. One of the porcelain cups teetered, then fell, shattering into pieces on the polished floor.
For a moment, silence hung thick in the air.
Old Fu stiffened. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze darted from the broken fragments to the patriarch's face. (Damn it… How could I be so careless?!)
He immediately bent forward. "A-Ah, please forgive me, Patriarch Weh. Allow me to clean this up."
But before he could kneel, Weh lifted a hand, stopping him. "There is no need, Old Fu." His voice remained light, but his gaze lingered on the shattered porcelain.
Still, Old Fu insisted. "At least let me compensate you. I will personally buy a new cup for the set."
Weh chuckled, shaking his head. "It is a set, Old Fu. You can't simply buy one replacement."
"Then I shall purchase the entire set." Old Fu bowed his head slightly, his voice firm despite the anxious bead of sweat forming at his temple.
Weh laughed again, this time more heartily. "Hahaha! Relax, Old Fu. There's no need for that."
Once more, he extended his hand.
Old Fu hesitated. The cold sweat on his forehead had spread to the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him—warning him of something he couldn't quite place. But fear did not freeze him. He grasped Weh's hand in a firm, steady shake.
"I apologize once again, Patriarch Weh. And thank you for your great hospitality."
Weh merely smiled as he guided him toward the door. "Please, Old Fu. Think nothing of it."
As soon as the old man departed, the polite mask on Weh's face faded. He shut the door quietly, turning back toward the table.
His eyes settled on the broken cup.
A slow exhale left his lips, but the unease coiling in his chest did not fade. The faintest flicker of doubt crept into his mind, whispering a thought he did not want to acknowledge.
(An ill omen... or just an unfortunate accident?)
He clenched his jaw.
(No matter. If fate wishes to play games, I will simply play better.)