Unlike most central squares on the continent, Gold Leaf Square was less a mercantile area and more a public park. The ban on stray hawkers and open-air salesmen made the public area more family friendly than most. Parents roamed with their children, and mortal elderly did tai chi off to the side. Cultivators meditated while pondering the Dao of golden leaves, soaking in the beautiful but temporary nature of these natural ornaments.
There were only four businesses in the square, each one occupying a large corner. The Jade Bamboo Headquarters, a much larger facility than the auction house that occupied every major city in the North, sported its usual green bamboo décor. The Red Dust Pavilion, a premier entertainment venue featuring the most popular courtesans on the continent, attracted both the curious and the lecherous with its red lights and decorations.
The Greenwind Pavilion, on the other hand, was more subdued—the mediocre-looking building seemed to slink into its surroundings. But despite its deceptive exterior, every person in the city worth his salt knew there was no better place on the continent to obtain information.
The Spirit Temple was the last of the four businesses. It was the least conspicuous of the lot but also the most sinister-looking one. Why it could exist in the city, where the Church of Justice reigned with an iron fist, was a mystery to all. No one knew what truly happened within its forlorn walls; they could only guess based on hearsay and myth.
Wang Jun, however, knew of a very special function it served: The Spirit Temple was home to the mysterious Spectral Assassins, who would kill anyone for the right price. Their money-back guarantee and their low failure rate ensured their popularity within certain circles. They also never seemed to target royalty or Church officials. Wang Jun guessed this was the real reason for its continued existence.
We’re back, Wang Jun thought as the carriage stopped before a bamboo garden. Protector Ren stepped out and opened the door, allowing Wang Jun and his assistants to get out of the cramped carriage. Some minor servants ran up to the carriage and began pulling out their belongings. Along with them came an elder. A lesser elder, Wang Jun noted. The man bowed deeply before speaking.
“We’re all overjoyed with your return after a successful venture for the family,” Elder Ting said. “The Patriarch has arranged a banquet to celebrate your return. He expects your presence at six o’clock sharp, so please manage your time wisely.”
Expects, not requests, Wang Jun noted. And judging by the height of the sun, he only had twenty-two minutes to prepare.
“Please inform the Patriarch that I’ll be there promptly,” Wang Jun said. “Also, aid Elder Bai in everything he requires. I’ll be in my quarters preparing.” Then, noting the man’s awkward expression, he raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything I should be aware of?”
Elder Ting coughed awkwardly. “Your room was reassigned to your youngest cousin, Wang Jie. Perhaps we can arrange a temporary room for you to prepare.”
Wang Jun pondered that for a moment. From what he recalled, though Wang Jie’s family did not approve of his eldest brother, Wang Ling, they didn’t support Wang Jun either. Still, he couldn’t displace them without upsetting those in their neutral faction, as a residence in the main household was highly coveted.
“Is Wang Xinyi still residing in the main household?” he asked. Wang Xinyi was a low-ranked member the last time he saw him, and unlikely to amount to anything in life. However, his household was extremely supportive of Wang Ling.
“He is,” Elder Ting said. “Do you have any instructions?”
“Please have his room vacated for my temporary accommodation in the next five minutes,” Wang Jun said. “I’ll be getting a higher-grade room soon enough, but his room should do fine for the next few nights.”
Elder Ting smiled lightly and bowed. “Your wish is my command, young master. You three!” he yelled. Three higher-ranked servants ran up and snapped to attention. “Vacate Wang Xinyi’s room and prepare temporary amenities and robes befitting Young Master Wang’s status. You have four and a half minutes and can recruit up to five helpers.”
“Sir!” they said without a hint of hesitation. The servants, who were also cultivators, ran into the house with inhuman speed. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Elder Ting, Wang Jun walked into the house, down a few familiar hallways, and smiled as he passed Wang Xinyi, who was only half dressed.
“How dare you!” Wang Xinyi yelled as he passed. “You’ll get what’s coming to you for this, mark my words.”
His possessions had been placed outside the room. Wang Jun noted that an unhealthy amount of liquor bottles and potentially harmful medicinal pills were present, along with many much more embarrassing things.
“No need to apologize for taking so long,” Wang Jun said. “I’m sure these quarters will do fine for now.” He closed the high-quality door, blocking out any further screaming from his younger cousin.
The bedding in the room had already been changed into the plain ones he preferred, and a pot of tea had already been prepared for him.
He took a sip of the clear cup on the desk and hummed in approval as he rummaged through the various toiletries. Then he noticed the robes: green with gold trim and black runic highlights. The green symbolized the Wang family, of course, and the gold symbolized not only the main branch but his status as a competitor for the family leadership. The black runes were unusual. They represented his identity as a personal disciple of Daoist Obscurus. He frowned when he saw them.
Wang Jun looked to one of the many clocks on the walls. Twelve minutes, he thought, then walked into the washroom and entered the rune-mist shower. The soap-filled mist cleansed his body and washed his hair simultaneously. Then he stepped into the neighboring drying formation.
