Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

- Xuan POV -

"Good morning, father." Lin Xuan inclined his head a degree. "May I have a moment of your time?"

The brush in Lin Zhen’s right hand paused mid-stroke above the document he had been signing. The patriarch’s attention came up to the door faster than the document had been allowed to be finished.

The faces around the central table turned in the same heartbeat — three elders, two administrators, one outer-disciple master, all of whom had been told over breakfast that the young master was still recovering and that the council would proceed without him.

The young master was walking.

Elder Ren, at the patriarch’s right, was the first to break the surprise into something else. The right hand — his only remaining hand now — came down on the lacquered table with a flat tap of satisfaction, and the corner of his mouth lifted a full degree. Lin Zhen let the brush rest against the inkstone. He gestured Lin Xuan in with the same hand.

"Come in, Xuan’er. You are on your feet. That is the best piece of news this week has handed me. Take the seat at my left."

The seat at his left was the one with the dragon-mark carved into the headboard — the chair of the young master heir, the chair Lin Xuan had spent two years not occupying because Lin Xuan had spent two years bedridden under a curse. The chair had not been used since.

Lin Xuan walked the length of the room. As he rounded the table behind Ren, he paused.

"How are you, Elder Ren?"

The old elder lifted the truncated edge of his left robe with his right hand — the gesture of a man who had stopped pretending the lost arm was anything to hide a week ago and was not going to start pretending again on his account.

"Life has treated me well enough these past days, Young Master. Could be better. But it could be much worse." A pause. "Master Fu informed me I am permitted to hold a sword. The right one was always the one that mattered to me."

"I am glad to hear that, Elder. The sect needs you on your feet."

"The sect needs both of us on our feet. I am pleased to see at least one of us has been efficient about it."

Lin Xuan took the heir’s chair.

He registered the table from the chair for the first time as an equal rather than as a child sent into the corner to watch. The lacquer of the wood under his hands held the warm patina that fifty years of council deliberations had pressed into it. The cushion beneath him had been replaced recently — the silk a shade brighter than the ones at the rest of the table. They had been keeping his place.

Lin Zhen waited until he was seated. The patriarch began.

"Xuan’er, you will hear the numbers from the source. Elder Tao."

Elder Tao cleared his throat once and reached for the central ledger. Tao was the youngest of the surviving senior elders, a robust man in his fifties who had been an alchemist before being elevated to the council five years prior. He was, in Lin Xuan’s reading of the table, the man most uncomfortable with being one of only three senior elders left in a sect that was supposed to have six.

"Skyedge enters this week with the following count. Disciples killed in the pass — eight named, including Captain Tao Yi, sergeant Han Liang, and six others on the registry. Senior elders dead — three. Bao. Shan. Wu. Senior elder permanently wounded — Elder Ren. The patriarch himself carries a leg injury that Master Fu has prescribed two more weeks of release work for. First Wife of the Patriarch — deceased."

The room received the name of Madam Mei the way the room had received it every time in the past seven days. The name passed across the lacquer and the inkstones and continued on its way.

Tao went on without lingering.

"Outer disciples. Twelve formally requested release from their contracts this week. Nineteen more have not requested release but have stopped showing up at the practice yard. Approximately forty are present but uncertain — they attend, but they are watching the gates."

Elder Min picked up the relay without prompting. Min was the oldest member of the council, a woman in her seventies with a vinegar-dry voice and forty years of inter-sect protocol behind her. The line of her mouth never quite relaxed — it was either pursed or it was holding a sentence in.

"Frostmoon Ridge sent a courier two days ago. They want confirmation that the alliance has not been compromised by what happened on the road. The Iron Cloud Pavilion has not yet sent a courier of their own. Phoenix Mirror has not sent one and will not — their principal is still nursing his pride over what happened with Madam Yu at the Arena."

Lin Xuan kept his face flat at the mention of his former fiancée. Mira, on the inner channel, declined to comment, which was its own form of comment.

Council Secretary Liu, at the patriarch’s other side, lifted his brush.

"On the opposite side of the balance, Young Master — the post-tournament effect has begun. Forty-three formal applications for outer-disciple admission have arrived in the past six days. Twelve are from regional families who had previously declined our recruitment letters. Three are from clan branches we have not received a single application from in living memory. The Crown of Yuncheng still carries weight, even after what happened on the road home."

Lin Zhen set both forearms on the table.

"So we are losing thirty and gaining forty. On paper."

"On paper," Elder Min returned. "The thirty we are losing are trained. The forty we are gaining are not."

The patriarch waited a beat. He changed the topic with the economy of a man who had been chairing this council for two decades and knew exactly how to move it.

"Three senior elder seats are open. We cannot run Skyedge on four senior elders. Three of you are at this table. Master Jin is half a step below the threshold, but the council has been considering elevating him for a year, even before any of this happened. That brings us to five. Five is not seven. But five is workable for the next two seasons if we hold the council to essential sessions only."

He turned a slow half-rotation in his chair to take in the table.

"Who do we elevate from within. Speak honestly. I have heard each of you in private. I want it on this table now."

Elder Min spoke first.

"Lin Hua and Wei Liang. Both inner court and the patriarchs wives. Both demonstrated their loyalty audibly in the pass when the patriarch called names. Both have the temperament. I would not normally argue for elevation for them, but the current moment is not a normal one."

Elder Tao tapped his brush against the inkstone twice.

"I would add Master Fu. He is technically at the right rank. The alchemy hall has been running without an elder representative for the better part of fifteen years. In a transition like this, an alchemist with the sect seal on his collar earns us more political weight than a third swordsman."

Elder Ren let a half-grin slide across his face.

"Master Fu would not accept the seat, Tao. I have known him forty years. He has said many times that the alchemy hall pays better than the council chamber."

A small wave of laughter broke across the table. The first of the morning. It dispersed quickly but it broke.

Lin Zhen folded his hands.

"Then we approach Lin Hua and Wei Liang first. And we consider what role Master Jin will assume if we elevate him into the senior tier. Which brings us to the next question."