Chapter 2

“Excuse me, sect head,” a reedy voice announced from the doorway to my study. “You have a visitor. She says you are expecting her.” I looked up to see one of the acolytes addressing me. Late Qi condensing phase, the man looked to be in his early fifties, were he a normal mortal. As it was, he was likely twice that, but had almost come to the end of his life. Outer disciples like him could gain merit points for menial labor around the sect, and I understood the duty of attending me was considered a lucky draw; first, because I hear I was low maintenance compared to most of the sect elders, and second, I was the head of the Blue Sky Sect, an organization populated by over two million cultivators and one of the strongest political, economic, and military powers in the region.

I nodded and smiled. “Please show her in.” He nodded once, and walked out of view before returning a moment later with a beautiful young woman in tow. The young lady gracefully approached me as I stood to greet her. At a certain respectable distance, she stopped and cupped her fist in traditional formal martial artist greeting. My eyebrow raised a bit at this, but I returned the salute in kind as I briefly studied her. The young man silently bowed and saw himself out.

The girl Nehla looked very similar to her mother, long black hair elaborately styled with some expensive ornaments. Clear white skin and dark eyes that hinted at the mystery all cool beauties seemed to share. She wore a flowing robe of fine silk with tastefully muted colors in a conservative but not severe pattern, more demure than anything else. Clearly Muira knew of my tastes and had informed her daughter. Aloof, but friendly ... and if she were a mortal, I’d have guessed her age in the early thirties.

Her mother looked like a woman in her mid to late twenties.

“Please, sit,” I gestured towards the comfortable chairs while I pulled an assortment of small snacks and some tea from my dimensional storage ring and placed them on the low table in front of the chairs. While these spatial devices were rare among the general populace, almost everyone at the Nascent Soul or higher realms had something comparable. Mine was, of course, one of the more expensive ones; the inside was quite large, and it had a state-freeze feature which prevented food from spoiling, or tea from growing cold. The woman gave a hint of a curtsy and flowed into the indicated seat. I settled into the chair across the table from her, reaching across to pour her a cup, as etiquette demanded the host do for the guest.

“It’s been some decades since we last met. I recall seeing you when you had just entered the late Foundation Building stage when I went to consult with your mother on a subject of some interest.”

The young woman lightly grimaced and reached for the tea I had offered her, graciously nodding her thanks. She took a slow sip, clearly gathering her thoughts. I calmly waited. As a cultivator, patience was an absolute necessity. Finally she rested the cup gently on the table and took a breath.

“I may have inherited my mother’s talent, but not her discipline. Cultivation is truly difficult for me, but I don’t want to disappoint Mother. I see the look in her eyes as I have started to age in front of her. It’s almost a physical pain.” She looked down at the cup, avoiding eye contact with me. “She tells me if I become your concubine my fate will change.”

I nodded. “It’s very likely, but of course, there is nothing without a cost. You will be giving up a great deal to extend your life,” I repeated, watching her carefully. Her dark eyes flickered up to mine briefly, then darted back down to her tea.

“What sort of cost?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Freedom,” I stated plainly. “Your will. Your future, in a sense. You wouldn’t be cultivating for your own ambition. You would be cultivating for mine. Your advancement wouldn’t be yours, but something I grant you. You would be bound to me, Nehla. Body, mind, and spirit. And not just in an abstract way, but in a very real, very ... intimate way.” I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. “The cultivation technique requires a dual cultivation aspect, you see. It demands absolute submission.”

Nehla’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, something akin to resignation mixed with curiosity. “And this ... submission is to you?”

“Yes,” I replied simply. “The technique is built around the Dao of Submission, but the subject of that submission is not the Heavens, as one might expect. It’s me. Your advancement would depend on my will, my decisions. Your cultivation would be a reflection of my favor.”

She took another sip of her tea, her hand trembling almost imperceptibly. “And my mother ... she wants this for me?”

“She wants you to live. She sees you withering, even with your talent. She sees the fear of death in your eyes, and it pains her. She knows I can offer you a different path, a longer life. But she also knows the price. Ultimately, the decision is yours.”