Ning Fengyu didn't even know how he made his way back to the main building of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect. His steps faltered, and he paid no attention to the respectful greetings and bows of the disciples he passed along the way. Like a soulless puppet, he stared blankly ahead, eyes vacant.
Creak—
He almost burst through the familiar door. A delicate aroma of wine, mingled with tantalizing notes of home-cooked food, drifted in his direction. His dazed eyes suddenly sharpened, his groggy mind clearing a little.
Glancing around the room, he saw several dishes of homestyle food and a bottle of warm wine sitting on a small table by the window. By the open window, a gentle, refined figure stood with his back to him, quietly watching the dancing shadows of bamboo in the courtyard outside.
He heard the door open, and the figure slowly turned. His eyes deep and calm, a gentle, refreshing smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, like a spring breeze.
"Brother, you're back."
Ning Fengzhi's voice was calm, without a hint of oddness, as if simply welcoming a family member home late.
Ning Fengyu swayed slightly, took a deep breath, suppressed the turmoil in his heart, straightened his disheveled clothes, stepped forward, and bowed his head to Ning Fengzhi, speaking in a hoarse voice:
"Fengyu... greets the Sect Master."
Ning Fengzhi stepped forward quickly, reaching out with a gentle hand, his smile even more sincere.
"Brother, there's no need for such formality. Today... you probably haven't had a proper meal, have you? Your heart must be weighed down, your appetite gone."
"I'm sorry to intrude. I had some wine and dishes prepared. Let's drink together and catch up."
The two sat across from each other at the small table. The food was plain but fresh, and the wine—Ning Fengyu's favorite from his youth. Ning Fengyu looked at the food and wine before him, then at the tranquil expression on Ning Fengzhi's face opposite. Emotions churned inside him, eventually settling in a long sigh.
"...Thank you... Sect Master."
Ning Fengzhi picked up the wine jar and poured a glass for Ning Fengyu himself. The clear wine made a pleasant, gentle sound as it filled the cup.
"Come to think of it, when my younger brother and I were young, we were full of energy and ambition. We cultivated together, handled Sect affairs together, discussed the Sect's future... those days seem as if they were yesterday now."
There was nostalgia in Ning Fengzhi's voice as his eyes gazed into the distance.
"As if it were just yesterday…"
Ning Fengyu echoed lowly, picked up the glass, tilted his head back, and drained it in one go. The sharp wine burned down his throat, but could not dispel the chill and bitterness inside him.
Ning Fengzhi watched his brother in silence, then suddenly asked,
"In the end, our father didn't pass the position of Sect Master to you. He gave it to me."
"Brother, do you resent him? Or do you resent me?"
Though sudden, the doubt sounded as though it had long lived in both their hearts. Ning Fengyu paused, still gripping the empty glass, then slowly set it down.
"I don't resent him. I don't resent Father, and I don't resent you. As I see it, Father's decision back then... was the right one."
Ning Fengyu met his brother's gaze, shaking his head slowly. A complicated smile appeared on his face, one that held relief, helplessness, and a hint of sincere admiration.
"You are stronger than me—not just in talent for cultivation, but in insight, courage, and... perseverance too."
"You convinced Bone Douluo to join the sect and laid a vital foundation for our order. That achievement can't even be compared."
"For contributions to the Sect or personal ability, I was far beneath you back then. Your vision reached further than mine, your courage greater."
Speaking as if with detachment from those past days, Ning Fengyu calmly acknowledged the gulf that once separated them.
"Yes… 'Back then' it was."
Ning Fengzhi let out a small sigh, picked up his glass but didn't drink. Instead, his fingers traced the smooth rim as he stared almost vacantly at the swirling liquor.
"And after that…"
He repeated the words, barely audible.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The room was enveloped in a long silence, broken only by the rustle of bamboo leaves in the wind and the soft crackling of a candle flame outside the window. The two brothers, once inseparable, were now estranged by duty and choices, compelled by family and fate to sit once more across from each other, wrapped in silence.
At length, Ning Fengzhi spoke again, his voice level as if asking something trivial.
"So, what are they planning?"
Ning Fengyu's hand suddenly tightened around his wineglass, knuckles white. He understood that Ning Fengzhi was asking about how they planned to handle the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect.
After years of secretly plotting, shifting assets, and preparing for the future together with a few elders, Ning Fengyu was not surprised. None of it would have been possible without Ning Fengzhi's tacit approval—or perhaps his secret cooperation. Outwardly, the Sect Master had always stood on principle, but in his heart, he had left room for another possibility for the Sect.
Ning Fengyu's throat worked, his mouth suddenly dry. He opened his mouth and spoke in a hoarse voice.
"In three days..."
"The Emperor is dead."
These words twisted his face in a grimace—a surreal mixture of crying and smiling, torn between endless sorrow and despair.
"They want you, as Sect Master, to 'pay your respects'."
He did not dare meet Ning Fengzhi's eyes, only stared at the empty wineglass before him.
"I see."
A look of relief dawned on Ning Fengzhi. His smile showed neither fear nor anger—only calm befitting the head of one of the three great Sects.
He raised his glass, saluted in Ning Fengyu's direction, then tossed back the wine.
"With the passing of His Majesty the Emperor of Heaven Dou, the entire country will enter a period of mourning. As a sect that has long protected the imperial realm, and as its Sect Master, I cannot but express my condolences and grief."
He set down his glass, looked over at Ning Fengyu, his smile still gentle.
"Rest assured, Brother. I, Fengzhi, will be there that day."
"Uncle Sword and Uncle Bone will probably also accompany His Majesty on his final journey."
Ning Fengzhi watched his older brother, whose bowed head and trembling shoulders could not hide the violent shaking of his frame. Suddenly, Ning Fengyu smiled—a smile filled with a complex array of emotions: pride, regret, and a resolution that was difficult to describe, but did not include remorse.
A little more brightly, he smiled:
"This time… we lost."
"But... I have no regrets. My choice was right."
To outsiders, everything Ning Fengzhi had done over so many years might appear self-destructive, even clownish. Yet only he knew that, considering the circumstances then, it was truly the best way to protect the independence and status of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect.
He had only… lost his gamble. Against the overwhelming force unleashed by the coalition of the Body Sect and Spirit Hall, all of his calculations and persistence seemed utterly powerless.
But losing didn't mean he was wrong. That was Fengzhi's own judgment—and his final resistance.
"I know."
Ning Fengyu bowed lower still, suppressed his voice. His eyes shut tight, as if fighting back some emotion.
"I understand everything. You... are a worthy Sect Master—energetic and devoted. But…"
After a long pause, he added in a voice almost too low to hear,
"…But you're not qualified as the clan's patriarch."
A clan leader should think not about the rise or fall of the organization, but about the survival and inheritance of the bloodline. Ning Fengzhi had wagered too much on the future of the Sect itself, even endangering the future of the Ning Clan blood. This was a risk the traditional clan, Ning Fengyu, could hardly accept.
Ning Fengzhi seemed a little surprised by this, then gave a self-deprecating, almost relieved smile.
"That may be so... But good and evil, success and failure, merit and disgrace—who can draw those lines clearly after a thousand years? Who can be certain?"
He let the subject drop, gazed at the still-bowed Ning Fengyu.
"Rongrong is still young.
She lost her mother early on, and I've been preoccupied with sect affairs, so she's been left too much to herself. Plus, Uncle Sword and Uncle Bone have spoiled her terribly. She's grown up proud and willful.
From now on... Brother, please watch over her, discipline her, and make sure she doesn't lose her way."
Ning Fengyu trembled all over. He didn't look up or respond, but his shaking only grew stronger.
Not troubled, Ning Fengzhi picked up the wine jar and refilled Ning Fengyu's cup. The clear liquid poured into the glass with a crisp sound that seemed to fill the quiet room.
"When I'm gone…"
Ning Fengzhi's voice was very gentle.
"The position of Ning clan patriarch will be yours, Brother. Please take care of the Ning family."
"Let the light of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, however faint, continue to be passed down."
"Fengzhi…"
Ning Fengyu finally looked up, eyes red and brimming with tears. Staring at his younger brother—someone who had always been better, and whose abilities he genuinely admired—his lips moved, but no words came.
With a carefree smile, Ning Fengzhi stood slowly, walked to the window, and gazed toward the faint silhouette of Heaven Dou City in the distance.
The night wind ruffled his hair, but his upright figure stood tall, like the last pine tree on the edge of a cliff.
"For the sake of the Sect, and the family..."
"I worry more about my own disposition than I fear death."
With those words, Ning Fengzhi strode outside, becoming one with the boundless night beyond the window.
Left at the table, Ning Fengyu watched the wine swirl in his glass. At last, he could hold back no longer. Covering his face, his shoulders shook violently as quiet tears streamed through his fingers.
…