“Yes, I suppose it isn’t,” Ji Bingxue replied. “He eventually worked off his slave debt, but when he finally got the funds to get ahead in life, the government knocked him down. It happened three times before he finally managed to appear in front of a magistrate. In that time and place, magistrates were also cultivators.
“He asked the magistrate: ‘Why must I be pushed down so hard every time I try to rise? I’m not even a cultivator. I can barely strangle a chicken, while others as young as sixteen can break walls and dam rivers. Why can I not succeed in life?’
“‘Those who succeeded before you caused great suffering,’ the magister scoffed. ‘Therefore, we must keep you down where you belong, forever obedient and yet forever useful.’ Li Pin couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the declaration, and for his mockery of the magistrate, he was put in jail. There, he spent his days raving like a madman.
“‘Men run around with spears, slaying innocents all around them, while honest cooks with dull knives are condemned as threats to peace. The world is ending. The world is ending.’ He died a year later, never stopping his ravings.”
“Your story is very strange,” Hong Xin said, frowning as she looked at Ji Bingxue. “You’ve told me an awkward story with a confusing conclusion. It’s full of contradictions. Some cultivators might have decided on this course of action, but must all men be silly?”
“Life is strange that way,” Ji Bingxue said. “People believe what they want to believe, despite the many contradictions all around them. Men cling to disproved religions, but others refuse to believe miracles before their very eyes. Men spout lies like the truth they believe from the bottom of their hearts. Traditions are sacrosanct, while values are thrown to the wayside. Then, these same traditions are done away with at the slightest inconvenience, traded for something of poorer value than what was tossed away in the first place.”
Truth be told, the story made little sense to Hong Xin. Still, if only for her friendship with Ji Bingxue, she relaxed her mind and tried to break down any barriers she had to the story. Knowing how and when to control your emotions, after all, was what she’d learned here. If she could dissect what Ji Bingxue was trying to communicate, she might at least be able to understand what the other woman was trying to convey, even if she didn’t agree with it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Hong Xin yelled a little too loudly. A trainee mistress opened the door looking frightened. “Well? Out with it.”
“Mistress Bai Ling asks that both Headmistress Hong and Mistress Ji Bingxue make their way to the first private room,” the woman said, looking down as she spoke.
Hong Xin and Ji Bingxue exchanged troubled glances. Usually Bai Ling would come see them personally. Furthermore, the first private room was reserved for their most important guests. Had someone powerful arrived who they needed to greet immediately? She could hardly think of who it could be.
“Thank you for informing us,” Hong Xin said. She and Ji Bingxue left their cups and strode out the door, leaving the intimidated junior behind. Just what are they teaching these girls? Hong Xin thought. She’d have thought they’d be more mentally resilient than this. They rounded several corridors and entered a room where four of their guards stood at attention. They opened the door for them.
Hong Xin and Ji Bingxue walked in, and to their surprise, they saw no important personage or powerful person. Instead, they saw a woman in blue seated at the table. Bai Ling and Mistress Huang sat beside her. Bai Ling was inspecting the woman with her limited healing abilities with a frown on her face, and Mistress Huang looked pensive.
“Leave us,” she told the guards, who nodded and closed the door behind them.
“What might be the problem?” Hong Xin asked, taking a seat.
“She came here asking to join our pavilion,” Bai Ling said. “She wishes to break away from the Icy Heart Pavilion. She refused to speak until you came.”
“Oh?” Hong Xin asked. “Whatever for?”
They’d never been approached by any of the pavilion’s members before. After all, women there kept icy hearts and cool minds. They were cold, calculative. They did nothing without a reason.
“I am known as Mistress Mi,” the woman said.
Truth, Hong Xin thought out of habit.
“I’ve come here because I fear for my life.”
Also truth.
“And would you not be safer among your people?” Mistress Huang asked. “Would they not have more incentive to protect you than we, of a different faction, would?”
“I do not know,” Mistress Mi said. “All I know is that I am not safe there.”
Truth.
“What made you decide to come here?” Bai Ling asked.
“I decided myself,” Mistress Mi answered.
Truth.
“Might I take over the questioning?” Hong Xin asked.
Bai Ling nodded. Though Bai Ling was an effective tactician and a bright mind, she didn’t have command over others’ emotions like Hong Xin did.
“Tell me,” she said, looking back to Mistress Mi. “Was there an event that made you decide to come here?”
“Yes,” Mistress Mi said.
Truth.
“What happened?” Hong Xin asked. She used her power of kindling to motivate her to speak and used dousing to calm her fears.
“I am hesitant to speak much of it,” Mistress Mi said.
Truth. Though Hong Xin could tell she was dancing around in circles.
“Were you threatened?” Hong Xin probed.
“No,” Mistress Mi affirmed.
Truth.
“You were attacked?” Hong Xin asked.
Mistress Mi nodded slowly, her impassive mask melting ever so slightly. “It was a spectral assassin,” she whispered.
Truth. Fear.
“I and three sisters were able to fight him off, though barely.”
Truth.
“I came here because I heard the Red Dust Pavilion is safe from Spectral Assassins. That you take in women like us.”
Truth.
“Spectral Assassins,” Mistress Huang muttered. “Why is it always those Spectral Assassins?”
“We were wondering why their activities had quieted down,” Bai Ling
