Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

Night had fallen on the sect by the time Lin Xuan left Silent Peak.

He walked the path to the patriarch’s quarters alone, hands tucked behind his back.

’Mira. What do you think he’ll want from me?’

[ I have no idea, host. Could be anything. You should brace for anything he asks. ]

’You are making me nervous. Say something to relax me.’

The panel shifted. The little silhouette of Mira inside his head looked up at him, and the edge of the panel went a faint shade of pink.

[ You looked pretty badass in the duel. ]

That stopped him in the middle of the path.

He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth too late. The laugh came out anyway, half a snort and half a real laugh, and he kept walking with his shoulders shaking.

A maid carrying linen across the courtyard saw him from twenty paces away and froze. She watched him laugh at thin air for three seconds, mouthed something to herself, and accelerated her pace toward the kitchen wing.

"He’s lost it," she whispered as she passed a second maid coming the other way. "Hurry. Go, go, go. If he sees us we are dead."

Lin Xuan did not hear her. He was still working on the breath under his ribs.

’Sorry. Sorry. I was not expecting that one. Thanks, Mira. That was exactly what I needed.’

[ I am glad it worked, Xuan. (/ω＼) ]

He arrived at the patriarch’s office.

Elder Ren was on guard at the door, hands tucked into his sleeves, the same composed face he had worn through the duel that morning. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, saw it was Lin Xuan, and inclined his head.

"Young Master. Congratulations on the win this morning. You should have seen the faces of the other Elders afterward. Years off my age, that performance. I always had faith in you."

His eyes drifted half a degree to the side as he said the last sentence.

Lin Xuan caught it and let out a small laugh.

"There is no need to lie, Elder. Today was a surprise to everyone, you included."

Elder Ren’s mouth twitched. "A grateful surprise, Young Master. I am glad you are well."

"Thank you, Elder."

"Your father is waiting inside. I have made sure no one else will be within hearing of this conversation. You can speak freely in there."

He stepped aside.

Lin Xuan slid the door open, walked through, and slid it closed behind him.

He glanced around the room.

It was, exactly as the borrowed memories had said it would be, the kind of office a regional patriarch was supposed to keep. Old scrolls along the shelves. A sword on the far wall that had clearly belonged to some ancestor. A low table set with tea in the center. Spare. Traditional. Not a single object in the room that suggested its owner was a man who had recently spent two years in the imperial capital arguing with noble houses.

’I was expecting something more epic.’

[ You read too many novels before all this, Xuan. ]

’In my defense, I had nothing else to do.’

At the far end of the study, by the single window, stood Lin Zhen. The night sky behind him was already dark and full of stars. He turned at the sound of the door, saw his son, and started across the room without a word.

He crossed the full length of the study, stopped a single pace from him, and pulled him into an embrace.

Lin Xuan dropped his shoulders into the formal angle and started to say something.

"I greet the Patri—"

"Stop it, son. Drop the titles. Since when do we use those between us? I do not remember a single time you ever called me Patriarch in private. In public, fine. In this room, no."

’Mira. I do not have many memories of him with this body. Was the relationship really that close?’

[ I cannot tell you much, host. The borrowed memories are patchy in some places and missing in others. But what I can tell you is that the relationship you had with this man feels closer to the relationship Lian has with you than the one Bao has with the patriarch. So yes, I would say it was good. I do not know why those memories were not given to you. It is strange. ]

Lin Zhen held him a beat longer, then let go. The patriarch’s eyes were red at the edges. His voice came out steady anyway.

"Sit, son. Sit. Let me pour you tea. Then we can talk."

They sat across the low table. Lin Zhen poured the two cups with his own hands. Lin Xuan watched the older man’s hands as they worked. They moved slower than the borrowed memories said they should, and there was a fine tremor in the right one that had not been there before.

The patriarch set the pot down and watched his son for a long beat.

"I wanted to see you these last two years, my boy. I tried. I could not. I owe you an apology for that. I let you suffer when I should have been here. Two years of that curse with no help from your own father. It is a miracle that you are sitting across from me right now. Now let me ask you, how are you fine now?"

"Honestly, Father. I do not know either. I went to sleep one night with the curse pinching shut on every third breath the way it had for two years. I woke up the next morning able to stand. By the end of that day I could walk. I cannot explain it. Master Fu has theories. Elder Ren has theories. None of them satisfy any of us. But I am happy it happened."

Lin Zhen exhaled through his nose.

"Hm. So am I, son. So am I."

He drank slowly, set the cup down, and rolled the empty between his palms.

"I would like to give you an explanation for why I had to leave. I think it is the least I owe you. Through my own incompetence you suffered for two years. You deserve to know what kept me from this seat."

"What do you want to tell me, Father?"

The patriarch ran two fingers down the line of his beard, slow.

"You see, son. The situation in the capital is not good. There were several reasons I went. One of them, the one I will admit to first, was that I went to find someone who could cure you. That part failed. I did not find anyone, in any of the courts I had access to, who could lift what you carried. But the reason I could not come home goes far past that."

"Did something happen in the capital?"

Lin Zhen nodded once, slow.

"The Emperor is dying."

Lin Xuan did not move. The weight of the sentence settled across the table between them and his face stayed neutral, but inside his chest something tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the borrowed memories.

’Mira. How bad is that.’

[ ...Very bad, Xuan. Very bad. The Emperor of Tianheng is the man at the top of this entire continent. His death without a clear succession could trigger a war that pulls in every regional sect from here to the western desert. ]

The patriarch was already speaking again.

"What I mean, my son, is this. For eight months now the Emperor has not appeared at any of the public audiences he is required by the imperial calendar to hold. There are rumors throughout the court. He is gravely ill. Worse, by some accounts, than what you carried. And the moment those rumors began to travel, his sons began to move."

"What do you mean, Father?"

Lin Zhen’s eyes settled on him with full weight.

"A great struggle for power, Xuan’er. For the seat of Emperor itself."