Modern Patriarch

Chapter 12: Council

Chapter 12: Council

The ground floor of Silvani’s Heirloom was lavished with a display of wealth— peak core-formation artifacts with unconventional and bizarre effects rested behind crystal displays, affixed to the circular wall of the tower. A small lacquered wooden plaque rested below each display, with a brief note detailing the artifact’s effects. Naturally, they were not suitable for use in real combat, but it spoke to the Heavenly Sky Sect’s storied heritage that they could use peak core-formation artifacts as mere conversation pieces.

Dire Wolf fur carpeted the tower’s floor, known for its silken texture and airy feel while being surprisingly springy at the same time. Yao Shen’s foot sunk a little into the ground with every step he took, but the material reverted to its original form a few seconds later— an imitation of stepping on a cloud cultivator’s domain. Plush divans were neatly spaced out across the floor, offering seating for individuals as well as groups. A bowl of freshly sourced spiritual fruits was placed next to each divan, and the seating arrangement for groups each had a rare Nieven Orb placed in the center, named after the game’s Elvish creator. It was a favorite pastime of some of the older elders, a game that involved controlling small constructs via divine sense and battling each other. It sounded simple in theory, but in reality, the constructs were designed specifically to resist the intrusion of Divine Sense. If the potency of the divine sense exceeded the threshold of the construct, it would fall apart. Essentially, it was a test of pure control that even brought a challenge to the Elders, who had repurposed a few sets for their entertainment.

Faceless Sixty Eight led them to a flight of steps at the tower’s periphery, the ancient structure showing no sign of decay or wear and tear even after thousands of years had passed— some of it had to do with regular maintenance, but Silveni’s Heirloom had its own self-repair capabilities. Faceless Sixty Eight then stepped aside, having bought enough time to recompose herself. The smile on her face was gone, replaced with the focused, calm gaze of a trained operative— her face largely expressionless. Perhaps she feared being reprimanded if she let her true emotions slip, and Yao Shen found that to be a travesty….one that he intended to rectify. He gave her a slight nod, which she took as a dismissal, turning around to return to her post. The rules mandated that one must always remain within the line of sight of a faceless within the perimeter of the tower, but as Patriarch, he could waive that requirement for Shadow and Elder Han.

Yao Shen proceeded to ascend the steps with the dignity of a Patriarch— his back held straight and taut, arms held firmly at his sides, each of his motions controlled and deliberate. Yao Shen’s pace was unhurried, but not relaxed, and Elder Han had already slowed to match him while Shadow trailed behind the two men. There was no particular emotion expressed on his face, but his sharp, penetrating gaze conveyed all that was needed to be said. It was important to remind the Elders that he was the one in control— now, more so than ever.

A solitary faceless stood guard at the top of the staircase, his presence largely ornamental— for here lay the strongest beings that existed within the Heavenly Sky Sect, the few chosen among thousands of disciples and hundreds of thousands of mortals that successfully managed to reach the coveted second stage, transcending the limits of the physical body.

The faceless stepped aside without needing to be prompted, waiting for Yao Shen and Elder Han to step past him or herself before announcing in a garbled, distorted voice, “Soul Emperor Yao Shen, Patriarch of the Heavenly Sky Sect, has arrived!”

“Nascent Soul Ye Han, Dao Repository Hall Elder has arrived!” The Faceless once again announced loudly.

Yao Shen immediately felt multiple gazes land upon him, as he gazed back at the congregation. An elongated table stretched across the center of the tower’s first floor, constructed out of a dark ebony wood with streaks of purple running across its surface. Six wooden chairs constructed of the same purplish-ebony wood were equidistantly placed across the long side of the table on either side, two of which were presently empty. At the northern end of the table was a chair, that at first glance did not seem markedly different from the others— only upon close examination would one realize that the violet streaks cut far deeper than the others, and even faintly pulsed every few seconds, the purple hue deepening before reverting to normalcy.

Elder Han finally separated from under his wing, making his way to one of the corner seats that placed him furthest away from Yao Shen— not intentionally, of course, but Elder Han was neither a scion of legacy families and nor was he particularly powerful, so it was only a given.

Yao Shen continued to ignore the gazes directed his way, walking towards the northern end of the table and seating himself on the hardwood chair. Almost immediately, Yao Shen felt a strong pulse of vitality course through his body, the sensation akin to a long, refreshing bath and a long night’s sleep somehow melded into one. Considering that two of the members of the council were past the three-hundred-year mark, Eocava wood furniture was always a welcome choice. Shadow remained standing by his side, much like the other core disciples— all handsome young men and women, standing beside their masters or, for the legacy families, their relatives.

He continued to remain silent, the tense atmosphere in the room all but palpable. Yao Shen was tempted to switch to ‘human sight’, but he chose to wait to do so until their final member arrived. Zhou Hui’s son, Wen Hui stood next to his father’s empty chair— and Yao Shen did not need human sight to tell that he was afraid of him.

To a lesser extent, all of the legacy families' held a melange of fear and caution towards him, to varying degrees. After all, the thorn in their side, the houseless vagrant that had used his misshapen domain to climb to the position of Patriarch, who had already been written off. His decision to ascend both mocked and ridiculed among their circles...for none of their Houses had managed to achieve such a feat in the past thousand years, so how could Yao Shen achieve such a thing, lacking even a Major Dao? The mere thought was the very definition of insanity.

Now that very Yao Shen, who should have been a distant memory, had returned as aSoul Emperorwho wielded the power of the Esoteric Daos.

How were they supposed to react?

“Nascent Soul Zhou Hui, Patriarch of the Hui Family, Elder of the Enforcement Hall, has arrived,” The faceless announced, as Zhou Hui walked in with a solemn expression on his face, Skyraiser no longer seen upon his person. The faceless shut the door after the final member had arrived, then activated the perception shielding wards.

“The meeting may commence,” The Faceless announced, before relegating himself to an unassuming position next to the door.

Yao Shen lightly smiled, as he activated his human sight— the world exploded in color, and it took Yao Shen a second to acclimatize to his new sight. All eyes were now focused upon him, waiting for the first words he would speak after achieving ascension.

The first thing that surprised Yao Shen was the sheer breadth of emotions that the core disciples projected upon the world— fear, joy, anger, pride, disgust, confusion, shock, and amusement, oscillating from one to the next as they tried to calm their thoughts. Such a thing was only to be expected, given the sheltered lives they had lived— for the legacy disciples, their family had always acted as an umbrella that shielded them from the wind and the rain, their safety assured in knowing that no bigger predator other than their own uncles and aunts had its gaze upon the lush fields of Azlak Plains.

Yao Shen had shattered that illusion, shattered their worldview, and partly, perhaps even fractured their belief in the indomitability of the legacy families. On the other hand, the disciples who came from humble beginnings but had climbed all the way to attract an unaffiliated elder's attention, of whom there were only four, projected powerful emotions onto the world because of jealousy and an undercurrent of anger, at the privilege, the nepotism and the humiliation they had suffered. Now that one of them was a Soul Emperor, they were delighted and amused, even eager, to see how he would suppress the holier-than-thou legacy families.

His attention shifted from the disciples to the elders, slightly surprised how little emotions the Elders allowed themselves to show. A trickle of curiosity, a trace of shock, a bout of confusion— they had prepared for his arrival in the little time they had, and they had prepared well. It mattered not if they used an artifact to achieve the effect, for this was the real foundation of the legacy families: resources and the knowledge to employ them.

“Sect brothers and sisters….,” Yao Shen finally spoke, and the next second every gaze in the room was upon him with scouring intensity— each aspect of his tone, body language, and even microexpressions being closely watched.

“....I, Yao Shen, Patriarch of the Heavenly Sky Sect, shall unify the Azlak Plains under the banner of the Modern Sect.”

The emotions in the hall erupted with such intensity that not even Yao Shen could keep track of all the hues and the colors.

Hearing it through the mouth of a fellow disciple was one thing, but for Yao Shen to boldly state his desires instead of proposing a motion before the Council of Elders was an entirely different matter. A Patriarch's word was his bond, and a statement once claimed could not be retracted without losing all credibility with the sect and it's disciples. This implied one of two things:

Either Yao Shen would convince the Council of Elders, or the outcome could be decidedly less....pleasant. The disciples heart's hammered in their chests, for they had all heard about Yao Shen's reputation- their Patriarch knew how to hold a grudge and none of them wished to make an enemy out of him.