《Divine Usurper: Reborn from the Ashes》

Chapter 13: Waiting

What? His madam intended to dispatch him to some Church of Light to become a cleric? Qin Mufeng, who’d grown up skeptical of divinity and harbored no fondness for gods, hadn’t anticipated that this newfound mother would enlist High Priest Dawo’er to usher him into such a fold.

“Jiangyue, did I hear you aright? You wish Feng’er to enter the Church of Light?” Dawo’er’s visage clouded with astonishment, his tone laced with incredulity at Xijiangyue’s plea. “Surely you realize that with his aptitudes, he’d languish forever as a lowly apprentice there. Moreover, the church’s austere existence—can you bear to see him endure such privation?” Yet, beholding Xijiangyue and Qin Mufeng prostrate before him, he fluttered his sleeves, a tender force lifting them upright.

Beneath that gentle vigor, Qin Mufeng—who’d knelt with scant enthusiasm alongside his mother—felt a soft power coax his frame to rise involuntarily.

Xijiangyue, having weighed all considerations, bore a countenance suffused with resolve. Glancing reluctantly at her son, she affirmed with unwavering certainty, “Uncle Dawo’er, I’ve decided. Should Feng’er remain in the Qin household, his very life might be forfeit. The Church of Light offers no grand prospects, true, but it promises him a lifetime of peace—enough to set my heart at ease.”

“Indeed, High Priest Dawo’er,” Xiaoya interjected softly from her station beside them. “You, emissary of the Light God and paragon of mercy in Qingyu City, must see that the young master can no longer abide here. Pity my madam’s earnest devotion and take him under your wing.”

Dawo’er hesitated, then intoned gravely, “Jiangyue, your father Jinglei and I were steadfast companions. Your entreaty I shall honor. Rest assured, so long as I draw breath, Mufeng will suffer no grievance within the church.”

“Mufeng, hasten to thank Grandfather Dawo’er!” Xijiangyue, unable to contain her elation at his assent, tugged Qin Mufeng forward, urging him to kowtow in gratitude.

Though the Church of Light was an enigma to him, Qin Mufeng harbored an instinctive aversion to playing the cleric. Yet, however myriad his objections, he couldn’t bear to disappoint this woman who lavished him with care. Forcing a faint smile, he moved to kneel once more in deference.

Dawo’er, however, forestalled the gesture, sparing him the obeisance. This act kindled a flicker of favor in Qin Mufeng toward the old priest.

“Jiangyue, when do you propose Mufeng accompany me?” Dawo’er inquired gently, his gaze resting on the boy.

At this, Xijiangyue’s visage dimmed, though the shadow swiftly yielded to resolve. “Uncle Dawo’er, what of today? Let Mufeng join you at the Church of Light this very day.”

“A decision of such gravity—should you not first confer with Yinghuan?” Dawo’er ventured, his counsel tender yet prudent.

The mention of Qin Yinghuan frosted Xijiangyue’s already somber expression. With a scornful laugh, she retorted, “Feng’er has long ceased to occupy his thoughts. He is my son—his future rests in my hands. Besides, Feng’er’s departure from the Qin family might well be his fondest wish, clearing the path for his cherished prodigy.”

Confronted by her unyielding determination, Dawo’er deemed further words futile. Yet, as the matter teetered on conclusion, Qin Mufeng’s voice pierced the silence. “Grandfather Dawo’er, Mother, I wish to depart only after the ancestral ceremony.”

“Feng’er, obey me!” Xijiangyue’s tone sharpened, though her face brimmed with protective tenderness and reluctant parting. “This choice is for your own good. Heed me—leave with the High Priest today and forsake that wretched ceremony.”

“Mother, if I flee now, I’ll be scorned all the more, branded a coward who shirked the fray. And you—you’d face ridicule within the Qin family!” Qin Mufeng’s voice, though serene, reverberated with a steely resonance that stirred Xijiangyue’s soul. “I’ll join the church as an apprentice, I swear it—but only after the ceremony.”

Xijiangyue gazed upon her obstinate son, his youthful features now etched with an irrevocable resolve. A chord deep within her quivered, a tide of warmth—springlike yet tinged with sorrow—surging through her. Amid the shock, solace prevailed: her son cherished her, unwilling to let her bear humiliation for his sake.

Yet she refused to waver. With renewed firmness, she declared, “Mufeng, no matter what, you must leave today. Even if I must implore you, go with Dawo’er to the Church of Light and abandon this Qin household.”

Qin Mufeng understood that, after tasting the world’s cold indifference, it was this woman who’d bestowed upon him a profound love, a haven of warmth. Her insistence now stemmed solely from his welfare—she sought to shield him from the ceremony’s perils, to shoulder his burdens with her frail frame.

All this, for him. Were he a naive child, he might have acquiesced. But he was no longer that innocent soul—his mind bore the weight of over twenty years. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let a delicate woman bear his trials.

“Grandfather Dawo’er,” he pleaded, turning to the one who might sway his mother, “though I cannot tread the martial path, I refuse to secure my meager survival at the cost of Mother’s dignity! If I depart now, safe under your aegis, her absence from the ceremony will draw the clan’s censure upon her. I beseech you—let me join you at the Church of Light only after the ancestral rite.”

As he spoke, Qin Mufeng knelt before Dawo’er. His prior genuflections had been at Xijiangyue’s behest, not his own volition. This time, for her sake, he bowed with heartfelt sincerity.

Dawo’er, beholding the prostrate boy, felt a pang of compassion, his heart swelling with sentiment. After a prolonged silence, he murmured, “Jiangyue, since Feng’er’s mind is set, honor his choice.” With tender affection, he lifted Qin Mufeng, his crystalline hand patting the boy’s shoulder. “Feng’er, I trust you. Once the ceremony concludes, I’ll escort you to the Church of Light.”

Xijiangyue parted her lips to protest, but gazing upon her son’s resolute countenance, she fell silent. In her eyes, her slender, fragile boy was burgeoning—her fledgling, long sheltered beneath her wings, had, in this moment, unfurled into manhood.