Feng Ming pursued the beast alone for a few hours before finally being rejoined by the old Sea God Emperor. The man looked worn and beaten down.
“I won’t be doing that again,” Gong Xuandi said. “Regardless of my requirement to serve you.”
“Fair enough,” Feng Ming said, sighing. Once was already enough. “Let’s keep following it.”
It didn’t take long for them to find it. Where it passed, death followed.
Chapter 14: Shadow Fate Investiture
Wang Jun walked through the corridors of the Wang family mansion, admiring the impressive décor in the main hallway. Twenty feet wide with a twenty-foot ceiling on the first floor, the spacious home featured many famous art pieces like sculptures, calligraphy, and paintings. It was night out, and the residence was alight with candles and chandeliers. They cast ominous shadows beneath their dim lights.
As he often did during these walks, Wang Jun reminisced about his childhood. The earlier memories were nostalgic: his studies as he learned the basics of investment and trade, the academic competition with his cousins and siblings that decided the resources they were allocated. Most dear to his heart, however, were his adventures with Wang Hua through these special hallways, admiring relics of times past, left behind by their ancestors to instill wisdom and appreciation into their descendants. They were pleasant times, but with happiness came darker memories.
Memories he’d tried to forget. Memories of blood and fear-filled eyes. Memories of betrayal that broke their family apart. It was all caused by one man, the man he’d trusted with his life: Wang Ling. The scars these events left behind were painful to remember and impossible to forget.
“Fancy seeing you here, buzzing around like a money bee.”
Wang Jun didn’t look away from the painting he’d been admiring as the hateful man walked up beside him. He made a point of staring at the painting even harder, inspecting the details of artistic rendition of his ancestor, who bravely smashed his enemies with mountains of spirit stones.
“Fancy seeing you here, not cooped up or in seclusion,” Wang Jun finally said, his voice impassive. “Given how little I see you, I’d thought you were scared to face me like a man.”
Over the past few years, he’d only seen Wang Ling a handful of times. Most of these times had been at the annual family meeting, a compulsory event for all those residing in the mansion.
Wang Ling simply smiled at the provocation. He wore his long blond hair in a topknot with a golden pin. His green robes, made of the finest demon silk, were embroidered in golden runes just like Wang Jun’s were. “Is it hiding to do what you’re good at?” Wang Ling asked. “Like any successful person, I like to play to my strengths.” He folded his arms behind his back and silently watched the same painting as Wang Jun.
“And what is it, exactly, that you’re good at?” Wang Jun asked with a raised eyebrow. “Your businesses are growing at a snail’s pace, and you’ve missed out on many key opportunities. I’ve also noticed that your books are in shambles.”
“I’m good at winning,” Wang Ling said. “You’re a very calculating person. That’s good. The family needs people that are good with numbers and predicting the success of a venture. I admit, in that sense, I am your inferior.”
“Then it seems,” Wang Jun said, “that you’re admitting to being worse than me at the primary skill required for leading a family of merchants. Honestly, I don’t know how you sleep at night.”
Wang Ling chuckled lightly. He turned to Wang Jun and faced him. Wang Jun looked to the side, unable to bear the resemblance the man’s girlish face bore to his late sister’s. “I think you have something wrong, little brother,” Wang Ling said. “Winning isn’t about making money.”
“Our ancestor would disagree,” Wang Jun said, tilting his head toward the painting. The ancestor had had it commissioned to convey an important message: With enough money, you could crush any foe.
“I beg to differ,” Wang Ling said. He took a small step forward, encroaching on Wang Jun’s personal space. Wang Jun could feel the man’s breath on his face, and if he wanted to, he could end him here and now with a dagger through the chest. He suppressed that urge. “Winning is more important because you can’t take money with you when you die, my dear brother. All the money in the world does no good if you’re dead.” Seemingly unaware or unconcerned with the threat to his life, he circled around Wang Jun. “Wang Hua is a prime example. She was talented. She could have been our family’s second transcendent if she’d survived. But she didn’t. She lost.”
Wang Jun’s arms blurred. A shadowy dagger materialized in his hand and stabbed toward Wang Ling’s exposed torso. An invisible shield shattered as the dagger cleaved through it effortlessly, stabbing point first into an unreasonably tough core-grade vestment. The strike was fast, faster than most people could react to. Just a few more inches, and Wang Ling’s life would end.
Unfortunately, the dagger stalled. Wang Jun’s tense arm was now caught up in Wang Ling’s white-knuckled and unusually strong grip. Wang Jun’s eyes narrowed as he realized the man was much stronger than he’d been just a short time ago. Had he broken through? Would that explain such a massive increase in strength?
“Watch out, brother dearest,” Wang Ling said. “You wouldn’t want to do anything drastic, would you? Business competition is fair game, but an assault on my life?”
“Some names shouldn’t be spoken by those who aren’t worthy,” Wang Jun said, struggling to push forward. He released the dagger. It puffed into shadow, but as it did, Wang Jun appeared behind Wang Ling. He summoned two daggers this time, their shadowy edges eating away at Wang Ling’s qi shield. Dozens more appeared behind the man, but a golden glint cut through them in an instant.
Still, that instant was
