Chapter 9: The Request to Leave

The summer solstice arrived at Xuanqing Palace with a celebration of celestial energies. Disciples gathered at dawn atop the Heavenly Connection Peak to absorb the year's most potent yang energy directly from the rising sun. For Zhao Yang, now approaching his sixteenth birthday, this solstice carried special significance—after intense months of preparation, the time had come to formally request permission to descend the mountain.

Though Murong Qingxue had already decreed he would journey to the outside world before the autumn equinox, tradition demanded that any disciple seeking to leave Xuanqing Palace, even temporarily, must petition the Mistress in a formal ceremony. The Rite of Temporary Departure had not been performed for a male disciple in the sect's long history, adding yet another layer of unprecedented circumstance to Zhao Yang's unique status.

"Remember to maintain perfect posture throughout," Lin Shuoyue instructed as she adjusted the collar of his formal robes. As First Senior Sister, she had taken primary responsibility for preparing him for the ceremony. "The Elders will be watching for any sign of inadequate preparation or resolve."

"And don't forget the third prostration requires a half-turn to the east before completion," added Shen Qingcheng, who stood nearby holding a scroll detailing the complex ritual movements.

Su Mengyan laughed from her perch on a nearby stone bench. "You two are making the poor boy more nervous than he already is. It's not as if Master would actually deny his request at this point."

"Tradition exists for a reason," Lin Shuoyue replied with characteristic seriousness. "The proper forms must be observed, regardless of the expected outcome."

Zhao Yang appreciated both perspectives as he completed his preparations in the Hall of Initial Clouds. The past two months had transformed his education, shifting focus from pure cultivation techniques to practical knowledge of the mortal realm. Each of his nine senior sisters had contributed specialized training: Lin Shuoyue schooled him in court etiquette and diplomatic protocol; Su Mengyan taught disguise techniques and the art of gathering information through casual conversation; Ye Qingzhu ensured he could identify and prepare common medicinal herbs available in the outside world.

Bai Bingxue drilled him in weather prediction and wilderness survival; Hua Lige instructed him in regional music and cultural markers that would help him blend into different societies; Liu Ruyan taught him to recognize poisons and subtle signs of ill intent in strangers. Qin Shuoyue intensified his combat training, focusing on techniques that could be employed without revealing his cultivation abilities; Shen Qingcheng provided detailed geography lessons and economic principles; and young Yan Ruoxue, despite having never left the mountain herself, enthusiastically helped him memorize city layouts and trade routes she had learned from scrolls.

Now, as the ceremonial hour approached, all nine gathered to offer final adjustments and encouragement.

"The outside world isn't so intimidating once you're in it," Liu Ruyan assured him, tucking a small pouch of protective herbs into his sleeve pocket. "People are people, whether on a mountain peak or in a market square."

"Still, maintain vigilance at all times," cautioned Qin Shuoyue, checking that the concealed blade she had given him was properly secured at his wrist. "Particularly in crowded areas where spiritual perception is hampered by ambient energy noise."

Yan Ruoxue, unable to contain her excitement despite the solemn occasion, bounced on her toes as she pressed a small carved jade turtle into his hand. "For safe travels," she explained. "I've been saving it since I was eight. It's supposed to help you always find your way home."

"Thank you," Zhao Yang said, genuinely touched by the gift as he carefully tucked it into his inner pocket. Though he hid it well, apprehension coiled in his stomach like a restless snake. Despite months of preparation, the prospect of leaving the only home he had known for five years filled him with conflicting emotions.

A bell tolled in the distance—three resonant notes that signaled the beginning of the formal audience hour.

"It's time," Lin Shuoyue announced, her perfect features composed in ceremonial dignity.

Together, the Nine Sisters escorted Zhao Yang from the preparation hall through the winding paths of Xuanqing Palace toward the Celestial Audience Chamber, where Murong Qingxue and the Elders would receive his petition. As they walked, disciples paused in their activities to watch the procession—some with curiosity, others with poorly concealed resentment at the male disciple's continued special treatment.

The Celestial Audience Chamber stood atop the highest peak of Xuanqing Mountain, its crystal dome capturing and amplifying the solstice sunlight. As Zhao Yang approached the massive moonstone doors, his nine senior sisters aligned themselves in formation behind him—a visible statement of support rarely shown during such ceremonies.

The doors swung open silently, revealing the vast circular chamber beyond. At its center, Murong Qingxue sat upon the Mistress's throne—not an ostentatious seat of power, but a simple jade meditation platform elevated slightly above the floor. Around her, arranged in a perfect semicircle, sat the seven Elders of Xuanqing Palace, their ancient faces impassive as they observed his entrance.

Zhao Yang moved forward alone, his steps measured and deliberate as protocol demanded. At the prescribed distance, he knelt and performed the first of nine prostrations required for the petition ceremony.

"Disciple Zhao Yang comes before the honored Mistress and revered Elders of Xuanqing Palace," he recited, his voice steady despite his inner tension, "to humbly request permission for Temporary Descent from the sacred mountain, that he might gain knowledge and experience in the mortal realm."

He proceeded through the complex ritual with flawless precision, each movement and phrase exactly as tradition demanded. As he completed the ninth and final prostration, he remained with forehead pressed to the cool stone floor, awaiting the Mistress's response.

Silence stretched within the chamber, longer than ceremonial protocol suggested was normal. Finally, Murong Qingxue spoke, her clear voice filling the space without seeming to rise above a conversational tone—a technique of sound projection that Zhao Yang was still struggling to master.

"Rise, Disciple Zhao Yang, and present your specific petition."

He stood as commanded, careful to maintain proper posture as Lin Shuoyue had drilled into him. "This disciple requests permission to journey to the Great Qin Empire's capital and surrounding territories, for a period not exceeding one seasonal cycle, to observe and learn from mortal society while undertaking specific research tasks as the honored Mistress may assign."

Murong Qingxue's expression remained unreadable, though Zhao Yang thought he detected an unusual intensity in her gaze as she studied him. "Your request is formally noted. Before rendering judgment, the Elders may question the petitioner. Elder Bai, you may begin."

Elder Bai—she who had most strongly opposed his acceptance into Xuanqing Palace five years ago—leaned forward slightly, her ancient face creased with what might have been concern or disapproval.

"Disciple Zhao Yang," she began, her voice surprisingly strong for one who appeared so frail, "in the thousand-year history of this ceremony, no male has ever stood where you stand now. What makes you believe you can represent Xuanqing Palace honorably in the outside world?"

The question carried layers of meaning beyond its surface—echoing the fundamental doubt about his place in the female-only sect that had shadowed him since his arrival.

"Honorable Elder," Zhao Yang replied with a respectful bow, "I do not presume to represent Xuanqing Palace in any official capacity. Rather, I seek to honor the investment this sect has made in my training by applying its wisdom to understand the world beyond our mountain. As for my unique status..." He paused, choosing his words carefully, conscious of the political currents swirling beneath this seemingly straightforward exchange.

"The very uniqueness that has made my position here challenging is what allows me to move between worlds—to bridge understandings that might otherwise remain separate. If there is value in my unusual circumstance, surely it lies in the perspective it provides."

A murmur rippled through the Elders—not quite approval, but not rejection either. Elder Bai nodded once, seemingly satisfied with his response if not necessarily pleased by it.

Elder Yu, known for her more moderate views, posed the next question. "Your training has been unconventional by necessity. What specific skills do you believe will serve you best in navigating the complexities of mortal society?"

This was safer territory, and Zhao Yang responded with confident humility. "The Nine Sisters have graciously shared their specialized knowledge to prepare me—from First Sister Lin's instruction in protocol to Seventh Sister Qin's combat techniques. Each has contributed essential skills for my journey." He detailed several specific examples, careful to acknowledge all nine of his senior sisters while emphasizing the practical applications of their teachings.

The questioning continued for nearly an hour, each Elder probing different aspects of his preparation and intentions. Throughout, Murong Qingxue remained silent, observing the exchange with her characteristic inscrutability. Finally, when the last Elder had spoken, she raised her hand slightly, bringing the chamber to immediate silence.

"The concerns and considerations of the honorable Elders have been noted," she said. "Before rendering judgment on this petition, I would speak with the disciple alone. Elders, you are dismissed with gratitude for your wisdom."

This departure from traditional procedure caused visible surprise among several Elders, though none voiced objection. They rose in unison, bowed to Murong Qingxue, and filed from the chamber. At a subtle gesture from the Mistress, the Nine Sisters also withdrew, though Zhao Yang noticed the reluctance in their movements, particularly Yan Ruoxue, who cast a worried glance over her shoulder as the doors closed behind them.

When they were alone, Murong Qingxue descended from her meditation platform and approached Zhao Yang directly—another break with the formal distance typically maintained during official audiences.

"Walk with me," she said simply, leading him toward a side door he had never noticed before.

They emerged onto a narrow terrace carved directly into the mountain's peak, overlooking a breathtaking panorama of the surrounding landscape. Far below, the mortal realm stretched to the horizon—distant cities visible as mere specks, rivers like silver threads winding through fertile valleys.

"Five years ago," Murong Qingxue began without preamble, "you arrived at our gate as a lost child seeking shelter. Today you stand as a cultivator of considerable achievement, prepared to reenter the world you left behind."

She turned to face him, and Zhao Yang was startled to see emotion in her typically composed features—a complex mixture of pride, concern, and something deeper that he couldn't quite identify.

"Your formal petition will be granted," she continued, "but before you descend the mountain, there are truths you must understand and responsibilities you must accept."

From her sleeve, she produced a small jade box carved with protective symbols. "This contains a map marking specific locations throughout the Great Qin Empire. Each corresponds to a fragment of knowledge relevant to the mysteries we have begun to uncover—the portrait in the Archives, the prophecy mentioned in the scroll, your unique dual cultivation core."

She placed the box in his hands, her fingers lingering briefly over his. "Your mission in the mortal realm is twofold: officially, to observe and learn as befits a disciple broadening his education; unofficially, to locate and secure these knowledge fragments before others can claim them."

"Others?" Zhao Yang echoed, sensing layers of complexity beneath her seemingly straightforward instruction.

"The Immortal Alliance grows increasingly interested in the prophecy of reunification," Murong Qingxue explained, her voice dropping as if concerned about unseen listeners despite their isolated location. "Their representatives have made three attempts to access Xuanqing Palace in recent months, each more forceful than the last. They sense the shifting patterns of cosmic energy that your emergence has triggered and seek to control or contain what they do not understand."

She gestured toward the distant horizon. "In the mortal realm, you will be beyond my direct protection, but also beyond their immediate awareness—if you maintain the energy concealment techniques you have been taught."

Zhao Yang absorbed this information soberly, the weight of responsibility settling more heavily on his shoulders. "The fragments... what form do they take? How will I recognize them?"

"They vary," Murong Qingxue replied. "Some are physical objects—scrolls, artifacts, relics from the First Age. Others are less tangible—specific knowledge held by individuals unaware of its significance, patterns encoded in ancient structures, memories preserved in unlikely vessels." Her expression grew more intense. "Your jade pendant will react when you are near a fragment, just as it did with the portrait. Trust that connection."

A gust of wind swept across the terrace, carrying the scent of approaching rain from the valleys below. Murong Qingxue turned back toward the vista, her profile sharp against the vast sky.

"There is another matter," she said after a moment of silence. "You will not journey entirely alone."

This surprised Zhao Yang. "One of my senior sisters will accompany me?"

"No. The Nine Sisters must remain at Xuanqing Palace—their presence in the mortal realm would draw exactly the kind of attention we wish to avoid." She paused, seeming to choose her words with unusual care. "You will have a guide—someone familiar with the territories you must traverse, connected enough to provide access where needed, yet not obviously associated with cultivation circles."

"Who?" Zhao Yang asked, curiosity mounting.

"You will meet at the foot of the mountain on the day of your departure," Murong Qingxue replied, evading the direct question. "For now, know only that this person has my complete trust in this matter, and should therefore have yours as well."

She turned back to him, and in a gesture so unexpected it momentarily stunned him, placed her hand gently against his cheek. "You have grown much in these five years, unruly disciple. Yet the journey ahead will demand growth of a different kind—not just in cultivation power, but in understanding the complexities of the world and your place within it."

The tenderness of the gesture, so unlike his typically reserved master, created a lump in Zhao Yang's throat. "I will make you proud, Master," he promised softly.

"Pride is a luxury those in my position can ill afford," she replied, withdrawing her hand, though her eyes remained softer than usual. "But I have faith in your abilities and your judgment. Remember your training, trust your instincts, and return to us when your task is complete."

With that, she gestured toward the door leading back into the audience chamber. "Now, let us return and complete the formal ceremony. The Elders grow restless, and your senior sisters are no doubt pressing their ears to the door in most undignified fashion."

This touch of humor, rare from his serious master, brought a smile to Zhao Yang's face despite the gravity of their conversation. Together they reentered the chamber, where, as predicted, the Elders and Nine Sisters had reassembled, some looking slightly guilty as if they had indeed been attempting to overhear the private exchange.

The remainder of the ceremony proceeded according to tradition. Murong Qingxue formally granted his petition, the Elders offered perfunctory blessings (some more sincere than others), and arrangements were made for his departure three days hence, on the auspicious date selected by the sect's astrologers.

As the assembly dispersed, Yan Ruoxue was the first to reach his side, her young face alight with excitement and worry. "What did Master say to you alone? Was it about your special mission? Will you really be gone for a whole season?"

Before Zhao Yang could formulate an appropriately discreet response, Lin Shuoyue intervened with gentle authority. "Such questions are improper, Ninth Sister. If Junior Brother is at liberty to share details of his private audience, he will do so at his discretion."

Zhao Yang gave Lin Shuoyue a grateful look before addressing all nine of his senior sisters. "Master has entrusted me with specific tasks in the mortal realm, beyond the general educational purpose of my journey. While I cannot share all details, please know that your training and guidance have been invaluable in preparing me for this responsibility."

This carefully worded response seemed to satisfy them, though he could see speculation in their eyes—particularly Su Mengyan, whose perceptiveness often penetrated diplomatic phrases to the truth beneath.

"We have three days to complete your preparation," Lin Shuoyue declared, taking charge as usual. "Each of us will provide final instruction in our specialized areas. First Sister Qin will begin with combat techniques immediately after the midday meal."

As his senior sisters debated the optimal schedule for his remaining time at Xuanqing Palace, Zhao Yang found his thoughts drifting to the journey ahead. After five years of seclusion on their mountain, he would reenter the bustling world of mortals—not as the frightened orphan who had fled his plague-stricken village, but as a cultivator with uncommon abilities and a mysterious destiny.

The jade box Murong Qingxue had given him rested in his sleeve pocket, its weight insignificant physically yet monumentally important symbolically. It represented trust, responsibility, and a mission whose full significance he likely didn't yet comprehend.

Most intriguing was the mention of a guide who awaited him at the mountain's base. Who had his master selected for this role? Someone from the sect's network of observers? A disguised cultivator? Perhaps even a mortal ally with valuable connections?

Later that night, as Zhao Yang sat alone in his pavilion packing the few possessions he would take on his journey, he carefully opened the jade box his master had given him. Inside lay a folded map of the Great Qin Empire, marked with seven red dots at scattered locations throughout the territory. Some were in major cities, others in seemingly remote areas. A small note in Murong Qingxue's elegant handwriting listed cryptic clues for each location:

1. Imperial Library – Celestial Maps Section – "The Divided Heavens" scroll

2. Mount Kunlun Western Approach – Hermit's Cave beneath Three Immortals Rock

3. Jinling City – House of Noble Fragrance – Owner's private collection

4. White Crane Temple – Abbot's personal scripture room – Hidden compartment beneath altar

5. Twin Pines Village – Elder Wu's grave – Buried with ancestral tablet

6. Imperial Palace – Prince Jing's residence – Painting of morning mist over water

7. Desert of Singing Sands – Oasis of the Crescent Moon – Beneath the ancient well

Each location presented its own challenge. Some, like the Imperial Library, might require official credentials to access. Others, like Prince Jing's private residence, would demand extreme stealth or unusual connections. The remote locations would require extensive travel through potentially dangerous territory.

"Not a simple gathering mission," Zhao Yang murmured to himself, studying the map and committing the locations to memory. Whatever these fragments contained, they must be of extraordinary importance to warrant such effort.

A soft knock at his door interrupted his contemplation. He quickly returned the map to its box and concealed it among his belongings before calling, "Enter."

To his surprise, all nine of his senior sisters filed into his modest pavilion, their expressions solemn yet affectionate. Lin Shuoyue carried a bundle wrapped in blue silk, which she presented to him with formal dignity.

"We have prepared a parting gift," she announced, "to aid you in your journey."

Zhao Yang accepted the bundle with a deep bow. "I am honored beyond words, Senior Sisters."

"Open it," urged Hua Lige, unable to contain her excitement. "We've been working on it in secret for weeks!"

Carefully unwrapping the silk covering, Zhao Yang revealed a robe unlike any he had seen before. Its fabric appeared ordinary at first glance—a practical dark blue suitable for travel—but as it caught the light, subtle patterns became visible within the weave, shimmering with faint spiritual energy.

"A protection robe," Shen Qingcheng explained, "with nine integrated formation patterns—one contributed by each of us."

"Mine reinforces physical stamina during extended travel," added Qin Shuoyue.

"Mine masks spiritual energy fluctuations from detection," Su Mengyan said with a wink.

One by one, each sister explained her contribution: healing acceleration, temperature regulation, poison resistance, danger sensitivity, memory enhancement, directional guidance, and emotional balance.

"Together, they form a complete protection system," Lin Shuoyue concluded. "Not invulnerable, but significant advantages for one traveling alone in unpredictable circumstances."

Zhao Yang ran his fingers over the extraordinary garment, feeling the subtle energies woven into its fabric and the even more precious care and concern behind its creation. "I don't know how to thank you all adequately," he said, genuine emotion making his voice slightly unsteady.

"Return safely," Ye Qingzhu said simply. "That will be thanks enough."

"And bring stories!" added Yan Ruoxue. "Lots and lots of stories about the outside world!"

As his senior sisters laughed and began sharing their own suggestions for his journey, Zhao Yang felt a complex mixture of emotions—gratitude for their support, apprehension about the challenges ahead, excitement for the experiences awaiting him, and beneath it all, a curious sense of inevitability, as if his path had been set long before he was aware of it.

In three days, he would descend Xuanqing Mountain for the first time in five years, stepping back into the mortal realm with new purpose and identity. What fragments of knowledge would he discover? What truths about himself would be revealed? And who was this mysterious guide his master had arranged to accompany him?

The answers awaited beyond the mountain, in the vast world he had glimpsed only through scrolls and lessons. With his senior sisters' voices warm around him and their gift cradled in his hands, Zhao Yang faced the prospect of departure with growing resolve. Whatever destiny awaited him in the outside world, he would meet it prepared—not just with cultivation techniques and practical knowledge, but with the unconditional support of those who had become his family in all but name.