Chapter Four: The Council of Dragons
Long Qingxiao sat in the centermost chair of the council chamber, a lone figure against a half-circle of twelve empty seats. The design was ancient, allowing every member to see one another perfectly, leaving no space for secrets to hide in the shadows.
Over the last five days, they had forged their plan. This moment—the revelation of his true cultivation—was merely the opening move. And as Patriarch, it was his duty, and his alone, to see it through.
The heavy double doors at the chamber's entrance swung open, breaking the silence. The first to enter was his uncle, Long Jian. The man's ambition was a tangible presence, but he was disciplined enough to respect the family's ancient rules. He strode in, his well-tied red robes immaculate, his long dark brown hair framing a face that, for a man nearing fifty, was remarkably unlined. Long Qingxiao knew the root of his uncle's resentment: the festering belief that the deal had been a fool's errand, and that if a Dragon Spirit was to be bought with their family's blood, it should have gone to him, the seasoned elder—not the unproven boy.
The man didn't have the green eyes of their branch; his were a striking lightning yellow. 'Tian did say not to trust that old system anymore,' Qingxiao thought, offering a curt, formal nod as his uncle took his seat.
As the doors closed, they opened again to admit the Disciplinary pair. Long Wei was as serious as ever, his copper-brown eyes sweeping the room in a single, assessing glance. He was a giant of a man, taller even than Qingxiao's own six-foot-seven frame, with a thin scar bisecting his right eye—a memento from a Snow Wind Panther. Qingxiao had known him his whole life, but the man seemed not to have aged a day since taking his post a decade ago. His red robes were pristine, his shaved head gleaming in the light from the high windows. They traded a brief, respectful smile before he took his seat. Beside him, Long Shan, his vice, sat with a rigid posture that seemed to suck the warmth from the air.
Qingxiao disliked the man. Not because he was a bad elder—on the contrary, he was too good, a man who lived and breathed the family's regulations. It was the cold, clinical look in his black eyes, the impeccable state of his short brown hair, the way his robes adhered perfectly to family norms. He was an annoying, inflexible man to deal with.
Next, Long Yun and Long Min of the Resources Branch entered, a study in contrasts. Long Yun, with his pragmatic brown eyes and his dark hair, just beginning to show streaks of grey at the temples, tied in a well-kept ponytail, looked every bit the calm merchant weighing his assets. Beside him, Long Min seemed to carry the weight of their failing treasury on her shoulders. Stress was etched into the lines around her blue eyes, her red robe was slightly disheveled, and her long black hair seemed to have a life of its own. Qingxiao knew their votes were always a single block, guided by one rule: keep the family solvent.
Then came Long Hui, and a measure of the tension left the room. The head of Internal Affairs was a fair and gentle woman who despised the council's infighting. Her grey hair was tied in a low tail, her robes impeccable as she offered Qingxiao a warm smile, her light purple eyes sweeping the room. She still liked to tease him about courting Zi Rou, often saying he looked like a lost puppy trying to win her over. He couldn't even disagree.
Long Hui's vice—and husband—Long Tao entered alongside Old Man Long An, the representative of the Non-Cultivators. Such was the respect held for the old man that everyone, even Long Jian, rose to their feet, waiting for him to be seated. As Long Tao helped him to his chair, Qingxiao studied him. The Old Man's white hair spoke of his time in this world, and his wizened grey eyes held a wisdom that transcended cultivation. While he rarely bickered over the family's power struggles, his counsel had settled many important decisions. If anyone deserved to see the hope Tian had uncovered, it was him.
"Sit, kids. I've told you such formality isn't necessary," he said calmly, his voice a gentle rasp.
Everyone sat. Long Tao took his place beside his wife, his light blue eyes already finding hers. Though a loving couple, they were opposites in council; she hated politics, while he understood its necessity and participated with a neutral, detached skill.
After them came the twins from External Affairs. No two people in the world were more different. Long Hai, the elder by seconds and the head of the branch, was calm and collected. His silver-grey eyes were always centered, his black, shoulder-length hair was perfect, and his robes were immaculate. Being in his mid-twenties made him and his brother, along with the Patriarch himself, the youngest generation on the council. Opposite him was his brother, Long Xun. His stormy-grey eyes were never still, his hair was longer and unkempt, and his robe wasn't a mess, but it was far from neat. Despite their differences, both brothers were undoubtedly his men. If Qingxiao told them to march south, they would close their eyes and do so without question.
The doors opened a final time for the last of the voting members. It was Long Feng, his other uncle, younger than Long Jian and far more neutral. He entered with a quiet dignity, his metallic-silver eyes glancing briefly at his brother before settling on Qingxiao. His clear brown hair was tied in a low ponytail, his robe perfectly kept. In all honesty, Qingxiao liked his uncles. He knew they cared deeply for the family. They simply saw him as incapable of leading them back to glory, not out of malice, but because in their eyes, he had done nothing to prove he could. They were proud men, but no prouder than anyone else with their surname in this room.
But none, he thought, were more proud than Long Meifeng, his grandmother, the Grand Elder, who entered last.
Everyone rose again, Long An included this time. She walked slowly to her position at the head of the half-circle, her white hair unbound and flowing freely, her black robes in pristine condition. As she sat, her steel-silver eyes swept across the room, and a memory, sharp and bitter, surfaced in Qingxiao's mind. To this day, he didn't know why she allowed him to keep the position. His uncles had disagreed with his leadership. She? She had actively sabotaged him. Her vote was only to be used to break a tie, and in his tenure, he had never won one.
Her voice, cool and clear, cut through the silence. "Let's begin this emergency council."
And all sat.
"I have a confession to make," Long Qingxiao started.
Instantly, everyone's eyebrows rose. A current of curiosity cut through the tense air of the quiet council chamber.
"I will not re-open old wounds by recounting the details of that day. But when I took this position, the expectations weren't high. I was just a son with what was believed to be poor talent. It took me two years to go from the first star of the Silver Rank to its peak. I remember the day it happened, the hope in everyone's eyes. 'He can get there!' was what they said."
The mixed feelings in the room were palpable, but nobody spoke. They let him continue.
"Then came the years after. Eight years and no progress." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. He could see the light of understanding dawning in some of their eyes. "Yes, as most of you have already concluded, I broke through to the Gold Rank... and it wasn't recent—"
Bang!
"Why?!" Long Jian roared, his fist striking the stone table and leaving a spiderweb of cracks in its surface. "Why did you hide it? Why—"
"Elder Long Jian. Let your patriarch speak." The cold, calm voice of the Grand Elder sliced through the room, silencing Long Jian's rage and any murmur that might have dared to rise.
The man was fuming but held his tongue. It was possible to see that others were just as unhappy; the Disciplinary pair watched with stony disapproval, and the members from the Resources branch wore expressions of grim calculation. The rest waited, their feelings a volatile mix of confusion and anger.
Long Qingxiao nodded to his grandmother. "Thank you, Grand Elder." She inclined her head in response, a silent command for him to continue. "I understand your rage, Uncle. I really do. It was the path to raise the family back to the ranks of nobility, to ask for more territory."
"Territory that you lost taking that deal," Long Jian injected, his voice a low growl.
"Yes. But I lost much more that day. And I'm not talking about those who died." He paused, letting out a long, heavy breath before meeting their gazes. "Because that day, I didn't just lose family. I lost my certainty. For ten years, I have been looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I broke through six years ago, that power didn't feel like a blessing. It felt like a target on my back... and on the back of my family. Only my wife knew."
"What plot are you talking about, Patriarch?" asked Long Xun, his voice quiet but sharp.
A derisive scoff echoed from Long Jian's seat. "You blocked this family's chance to rise again because you still believed in that so-called gut feeling you had as a child? You let a child's ghost story cripple this family for six years? You have the title of Patriarch, but do you have the spine for it?!"
"Are you being serious, Patriarch?" Long Wei asked, his tone devoid of emotion but heavy with judgment.
"Oh, I would love for it to have remained only in the realm of a gut feeling. But unfortunately, it isn't," the Patriarch answered, his hands tightening into fists at his side. "I am certain the Sacred Family schemed against us! More than that. I know they did!"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. It was as if a Snow Wind Legend Rank demon beast had entered and made its nest in the center of the table.
"If you do not have proof of this accusation," the Grand Elder said, her voice lethally soft, "I will see your line erased from the family record. I, Long Meifeng, swear it."
He met her steel-silver gaze and smiled, a chilling sight. "I wouldn't be speaking of it if I did not have such proof."
Now every eye in the chamber was narrowed. Even Old Man Long An leaned forward, his expression grim. He was not a cultivator, but he had suffered that day like everyone else; he had lost his only son with the talent for cultivation, a loss he still mourned.
"You will understand in a bit," Qingxiao continued, his voice steady. "First... my cultivation didn't stagnate in the lower levels of the Gold Rank. No. Up until recently, I was at the Peak of the Gold Rank."
"No... That's impossible," Long Jian breathed, his anger momentarily replaced by sheer disbelief.
"Yes!" Qingxiao said, his voice firm. And then, his soul force didn't just explode—it descended. A crushing, palpable weight filled the chamber, pressing down on every elder. The air grew thick, the stone table beneath their hands seemed to hum with suppressed power, and Long Jian, who had been half-risen from his seat in anger, was forced back down by the sheer, undeniable pressure. Qingxiao rose to his feet, his emerald eyes blazing with a light they had never seen before.
"Five days ago," he declared into the stunned silence, "I became a Black-Gold Rank expert!"
It took time, but the heavy pressure that had been holding everyone's breath subsided. An aged voice was the first to wake them from their stupor. "And such perfect control," Old Man Long An said, a genuine smile on his weathered face. "Congratulations, Patriarch."
The rest of the room followed his lead, the somber feeling from the earlier confrontation erased the moment the soul pressure vanished. A wave of congratulations filled the chamber.
But Long Jian did not speak. The rage drained from his lightning-yellow eyes, replaced not by the hollow shock of defeat, but by a turbulent storm of disbelief and dawning awe. He sank back into his chair, his gaze fixed on his nephew. 'A Black-Gold Rank... All this time... he wasn't passive. He was waiting.' The thought was staggering. For six years, he had fought and raged against what he perceived as weakness, as stagnation that was crippling their family. But it had all been a mask. The anger that had cracked the stone table didn't vanish; it simply twisted into a profound, frustrated regret for all the lost years they could have been fighting back.
After their initial shock, the Resources elders had stars in their eyes. Long Yun leaned forward, unable to contain himself. "Patriarch," he said, his voice slick with new respect, "a Black-Gold expert opens... significant new avenues for resource acquisition."
The Internal Affairs pair had warm smiles on their faces. Long Hui even mentioned, "What a happy woman Zi Rou must be now," recalling her old teases much to the room's amusement.
The Disciplinary Branch offered their congratulations, though their words were short and formal. "The Disciplinary Branch is pleased," Long Wei stated with a respectful nod.
Long Shan added with a thin, cold smile, "Indeed. It would be a great shame to depose a Black-Gold Patriarch for withholding vital information from his family." It was not a joke; it was a threat veiled as procedure, hanging in the air like a guillotine.
The twins were visibly pleased. They were all close in age and had known each other for years, but their unwavering loyalty to Qingxiao made the reveal a moment of powerful vindication.
Even Long Feng, while not entirely happy with the way it happened, couldn't complain. The family had a Black-Gold Rank Patriarch, one who was apparently very talented. And with the proof he claimed to have, they knew uniting the family was now more important than their personal pride.
But one person remained unmoved, unspoken, offering no congratulations. The Grand Elder was a statue of silent observation, waiting for the room to settle. When they did, she made her presence known. "Now, you will prove what you have claimed. If you have lied to this council and are using your new rank to intimidate us, you will discover that a dragon at the bottom of a well still sees only a tiny patch of the sky."
The joyful moment was killed then, but it didn't matter to Long Qingxiao. He had no intention of using his cultivation for pressure, and he was glad to have convinced his son of that as well. And in this room, he doubted anyone had more qualification to speak of the sky's vastness than him, now that he had access to the family's true history.
"I will prove it. But first, a bit of context for everyone to understand." Soul Force erupted from Long Qingxiao, not with the crushing weight of before, but with a wild, verdant energy. His form elongated, shattering his human silhouette as scales the color of ancient bark spread across his skin. Great, leaf-like wings unfurled from his back, and a long, powerful tail shimmering like pure jade whipped through the air. He grew, his head nearly brushing the high ceiling of the chamber. When he spoke, his voice was no longer his own, but a resonant bass that seemed to shake the very stones. "Everyone here knows the name of this beast, correct?"
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
Long Feng answered, "The Jade-Tail Forest Dragon. A powerful and imposing beast. A bit too expensive, perhaps, but by the looks of it, the price was worth it." That got a laugh from almost everyone, the loudest coming from the head of the Resources branch.
Long Qingxiao reverted to his human form, a grim smile on his face that silenced the room. "No. This is not an imposing and powerful beast, and it wasn't worth what it cost us. Not the territory, and much less the lives." He let his words sink in, then proceeded. "This species is rare among wood-attribute dragons, but not for its power. Its special characteristic is the ability of camouflage in a forest. I only noticed this after reaching the Black-Gold Rank and testing its limits. Its wood-laced attacks are fundamentally defensive. They can bind and ensnare, but they lack the piercing force and raw destructive power to overwhelm a Gold Rank's soul protection, let alone a Black Gold's. This is a creature of deception, not destruction."
"So you mean...?" Long Jian asked, his voice low.
Qingxiao met his gaze. "It was impossible for this beast to kill nine Gold Rank experts, one of whom was at the cusp of breaking through. Much less capable of killing a single Black-Gold Rank expert, let alone five." He let out a short, disgusted laugh. "Heh."
"This proves nothing but your own opinion. Is that all?" the Grand Elder said coldly.
"Oh no," Long Qingxiao replied, turning his gaze to the chamber doors. "You will see the rest shortly. You can enter now, Zi Rou, Long Tian."
The double doors swung open to reveal the most beautiful woman in the city and her young son, standing on the threshold.
"Good evening, Elders," Long Tian said, his clear voice breaking the silence.
His precocious maturity was well known in the family, and though his Soul Realm had never been officially tested, everyone assumed he was a genius.
"Patriarch, is everything clear?" he formally addressed his father, who nodded. "Excellent. Then, with all due respect to the esteemed Elders..." He shot a mischievous look at his great-uncles, earning a quiet chuckle from Old Man Long An and Long Hui.
His mother, however, was not amused. A light slap to the back of his head brought him back in line. "No theatrics, Tian. These are your family elders."
"Sorry," he said, rubbing his head with an embarrassed grin. "I was trying to break the tension. Now then... in a few moments, we will bring you to a place where we will present the proof you require regarding the schemes against our family. And much more..." He gave them a mysterious smile. "So much more."
And then, with a wave of his hand, a rift tore through the space in the center of the room. Smiling, he stepped in, and before disappearing into the shimmering void, he said, "Do try not to catch flies in that open mouth, Great-Grandmother."
His mother put a hand to her face in embarrassment, excused herself to the wide-eyed and open-mouthed Elders, and entered behind her son.
It took a moment for the shock to wear off, but soon the chamber was filled with a chorus of voices. "What just happened, Patriarch?!"
Long Qingxiao answered, "My apologies for my son's theatrics. He isn't usually like that, as you all know. He was probably just nervous. But as he said, your answers are on the other side. Follow me, or remain here. I guarantee you will not regret it." He left his position and walked through the rift.
The first to follow him were his staunchest allies. The twins, Long Hai and Long Xun, simply exchanged a look of vindication and strode through. The married couple from Internal Affairs followed shortly after, accompanying Old Man Long An. "Such an adventure at my age," the old man mused with a smile. "What a wonder."
Avarice then won the day for the Resources branch. Long Yun and Long Min felt it like a physical summons—the promise of treasure on the other side. They disappeared into the shimmering portal, humming a tune about windfalls.
The Disciplinary Branch was next. Long Wei and Long Shan exchanged a single, sharp nod and walked in, their duty compelling them forward. And then, after a moment of hesitation, a lone figure stepped through, leaving his brother behind. Long Jian was gone.
Now alone in the chamber with his mother, Long Feng heard something he would have called impossible: his mother's laughter. It was louder and freer than it had been since the days before the tragedy, ten years ago.
"That brat," she said, still seated. "I will certainly spank him later. So precious and so pretentious."
"Why do you treat Qingxiao this way, Mother?" asked Long Feng. He knew his mother well enough to grasp some of her moves, but undermining the very patriarch she'd supported had never made sense to him.
"Feng'er, a real Patriarch isn't chosen; he is forged," she began, her voice calm and measured. "The day your nephew came to me, a boy full of suspicion and fire, I knew he had the potential. I knew about the plot. I saw the satisfied glint in Shen Hong's eyes that day, and I knew your father had not hunted the beast he claimed."
"Then why...?" Long Feng whispered, stunned.
"Because a leader who has never been tested is merely a figurehead," she said, her eyes hard as steel. "Your nephew is brilliant, far more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. But he was young, and his path could not be an easy one. Your brother, in his pride, provided the perfect opposition. And where he faltered, I stepped in. I made him fight for every victory in this council. I forced him to seek alliances, to be cautious, to earn his authority instead of simply inheriting it. I could not be his shield, so I chose to be his whetstone."
"So you knew he was hiding his cultivation all this time," Feng said, a statement, not a question.
"Of course. And I allowed it, because it was the correct, cautious choice. Remember this, Feng'er," she said, rising to her feet. "A leader must be forged in fire. I had to become his fire, so he could be tempered into the man he is today."
She walked into the rift, leaving her son standing alone in the silent chamber.
The sound of her laughter echoed through the room.