Chapter Two: The Truth

That afternoon, I sat on a fallen beam in the ruins of the main hall and listened to Mira report three thousand years of sect history.

It took her one hour.

The first five hundred years after I entered seclusion had been ordinary. The eighth sect master had no great talent, but he kept the foundation steady. The ninth was better. Under him, the sect even rose again for a time.

The turn began with the eleventh.

For reasons no one had written down clearly, that sect master became obsessed with alchemy. A Soul Transformation elder who should have managed the sect spent every day locked in the pill room. He left Azure Cloud's affairs to the elders. The elders each had their own plans, and the sect's estates began to slip away.

The twelfth inherited a mess and lacked the ability to clean it up. The thirteenth held the line for a while. The fourteenth created a new disaster: he fell in love with a woman from the demonic path and poured half the sect's resources into her. She left. The resources did not come back.

After that, the story was a long decline.

There were decent sect masters among them. A few tried. None of them could stop the fall. Azure Cloud dropped from the top ten to the top fifty, then to the top hundred, then off the ranking boards entirely.

By the two-thousand-year mark, the sect had been pushed to the edge of the eastern continent.

By two thousand five hundred years, nearly every estate had been sold. Tens of thousands of disciples had become a few hundred.

And now?

"There is only me," Mira said.

She sat beside me on a stone, arms wrapped around her knees. "My master passed away ten years ago. Before he died, he told me to guard the sect no matter what and wait for you to come out."

I looked at her.

She appeared to be in her early twenties. With cultivators, appearance was never reliable, but her bone age was truly just over twenty.

A twenty-two-year-old at middle Foundation Establishment would have been an outer disciple in my time.

Now she was the sect master.

"Who was your master?"

"The forty-sixth sect master. We called him Master Clear-Sight." Mira rubbed her sleeve between her fingers. "When he took me in, there were seventeen people left. One by one, they either died, left, or chose another path. After Master was gone, there was only me."

"You guarded this place alone for ten years?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you leave?"

She looked up at me.

There was no hesitation in her eyes. No resentment, either.

"Master told me to guard it," she said. "So I guarded it."

I fell silent.

Three thousand years had ground a top sect into a ruin, a young woman, and an old master she had never met.

"What assets does the sect still have?" I asked.

Mira counted on her fingers. "One main peak. Half a side peak. Three mu of spirit fields. One spirit beast, if the old turtle counts. It's older than my master was. The library has thirteen books left. The storeroom has... thirty-seven spirit stones."

"Thirty-seven?"

"Lower-grade," she said seriously. "I counted them twice."

I closed my eyes and took one breath.

Thirty-seven lower-grade spirit stones.

Three thousand years ago, I gave more than that to errand boys when I was in a decent mood.

"Debts?"

Mira went quiet.

"There are debts," I said. "How much?"

"Thirteen thousand," she whispered. "Middle-grade."

I opened my eyes.

Thirteen thousand middle-grade stones. One million three hundred thousand lower-grade stones.

A sect with thirty-seven lower-grade stones owed one million three hundred thousand.

"How?"

"Master wanted to revive the sect. He ordered a batch of magical tools from the Forge Pavilion and planned to resell them to wandering cultivators. The Pavilion delivered late. Market prices fell. We lost money." She lowered her head. "Then the interest kept rolling."

"Who holds the debt?"

"Several groups. The largest is the Starwheel Sect. We owe them eight thousand middle-grade stones."

Starwheel.

I remembered them. In my day they were a second-rate sect that could barely stand outside our gates.

They had done well for themselves.

"Fine." I stood and brushed dust from my robe. "I understand."

Mira looked up. For the first time, a little light rose in her eyes. "Ancestor, do you... do you have a way?"

This girl had guarded a ruin alone for ten years. She had not complained. She had not run. She had not given up.

Her master had left her one order: wait.

So she had waited for a man who might never leave seclusion and might not even be alive.

"Yes," I said.