Chapter 51: Taking Leave

The minor immortal’s question left her flustered.
The girl leaned closer, worried: “My Lord—did you drink too much at the feast yesterday? Are you muddled?”
“Exactly so.” Heart had risen to her throat—dropped back down.
She’d thought her cover was blown. Given a step—of course she’d take it.
The girl muttered soft: “I told you before—you shouldn’t go drinking with the War God.”
“What?” She didn’t understand. “I went drinking with the War God?”
“Yes. Among the twelve gods you and the War God are closest.” No suspicion. “The War God holds liquor well. You’re not one tenth her match—of course you got drunk.”
That didn’t match her memory at all.
She remembered clearly—after Diting’s provocation, when Milt fell to demonhood, the War God charged the front line—even at cost of life—to kill the evil god herself.
Close friends? More like fire and water.
Successfully fooled, she asked: “Immortal—what should I call you?”
Seeing suspicious eyes she clutched her forehead, headache act: “Ah, my head—dizzy—can’t remember things.”
“My Lord, I’m Cailan.” Cailan’s face went grave. “Your memory loss is worse again. Should I report the physician at once?”
“No, no—maybe better in a few days.”
“It looks serious. Really no need?”
“No, no—really no.”
She waved both hands—if a physician came she was exposed.
If the other eleven gods learned the Life God now wasn’t the real Life God—she might not live to get back.
If they didn’t cage her for study they’d torture answers out of her.
She’d crossed from ten thousand years ahead—spirit truly in antiquity—didn’t know the return condition yet.
Maybe like last time—witness all history before leaving.
Until fate’s node arrived she was inside the story but could only watch.
This was Milt’s life originally.
Cailan like Diting—close attendant to a god, trusted inner circle.
Compared to Diting’s proper manner beside the War God, Cailan was casual.
War God Palace had few people but strict rule—servants proper—even a great immortal like Diting didn’t act out.
Seeing Cailan so free she wondered—did this Life God usually have no airs at all?
More talk with Cailan—she roughly knew the age.
Of the twelve gods most were great immortals who passed tribulation and ascended—the War God was one, strongest of the twelve.
She was Life God born of heaven and earth—lived in the borderland between immortal realm and mortal world.
Disliked luxury—only a modest Longevity Hall, built because other gods thought her quarters too poor and sent workers.
The twelve held regular councils. Peace era—not much grand business.
Still they swore a pact: on council day unless urgent matters in the hall—attendance required.
Cailan said much but never joined council herself. She knew nothing now—going would invite suspicion.
“Cailan, pass word for me—I’m ill. Can’t attend today’s council.”
Cailan looked troubled: “My Lord, but…”
“No buts. I’m weary and my head aches—one day’s leave—what of it?”
“Yes, My Lord.” Cailan said no more—hands formed seals, sent the message verbatim to the council.
Sick leave—the excuse that worked since antiquity.
Longevity Hall affairs she couldn’t fake—sick leave rolled off the tongue.
Cailan’s message art was fine—convenient—no need to send a runner in an age without devices.
No wonder Jade Dust could use ordinary humans’ hunger to become ability users—secret flame experiments for her ends.
After skipping council she wandered Longevity Hall until a library.
Small room—ancient books—characters she couldn’t read.
Wherever she went Cailan followed.
Since her “amnesia” Cailan’s face stayed worried. Fine—loyal attendants were rare—she let it be.
At last she found an opera script she could read. Cailan said sudden: “War God—why are you here?”
She looked where Cailan looked—door of the library—the War God leaned smiling at her.
“I heard Sister Milt was ill—came to visit.” The War God lounged in the frame, laughed light. “You don’t look too sick?”
“Ah? Really?” She played vague, tried to shift: “Why are you here? Council over already?”
Stupid question the moment it left her mouth.
If the War God didn’t attend council how know she claimed illness? If council wasn’t over how come to Longevity Hall?
Hearing that the War God smiled more: “All right—if you didn’t want council, find a better excuse. Milt, that one’s too clumsy.”
She didn’t understand—lost.
Cailan whispered: “My Lord, you forgot? The Life God governs all life—doesn’t get sick.”
“…You didn’t tell me earlier.”
“I meant to—you told me pass word fast.”
…True enough.
Arms crossed the War God asked: “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Hole already dug—heart hard—she asked: “War God—what should I call you?”
Cailan went pale, rushed to smooth: “War God—my Lord’s memory illness is acting up again—please don’t take offense!”
The War God’s eyes dimmed—then laughed light: “No matter. Not a big thing.”
“But why memory again? Hadn’t flared in so long.” The War God came close, hand on her forehead checking. “Neglected cultivation lately?”
Afraid to slip—she went along: “Maybe so.”
“Sigh—looks like I’ll train with you again, Life God.” The War God sighed long. “Tomorrow afternoon, Spirit Tide Pool—don’t be late.”
Then drew transport and left Longevity Hall.
After the War God left Cailan exhaled: “That scared me! The War God hates anyone asking her true name—you forgot that too?”
“I really don’t remember.” She asked puzzled: “What do I usually call her? ‘War God’ like everyone? You said we’re closest—that’s so distant?”
“But you do call her that.”
“…Fine.” She asked again: “Do you know why she won’t let people know her name? Some story there?”
“After ascending, some gods want a new face—hide they were once great immortals.” Cailan said. “As far as I know no one knows the War God’s past—even where she came from.”
“All right. I understand.”
When the moon sank west she went to the moon palace alone.
She was in the age of ancient gods—Bai Yanci not born yet.
At Spirit Tide Pool’s center the Spirit Tide jade pendant guarded well—artifact made with Milt’s divine power.
Spirit crossed a thousand years—but the Spirit Tide Pearl was still inside her. Touching the pendant—power flowed through her hand—resonance between the two source artifacts painfully clear.
She meant to walk back in the night—War God appeared behind her, pacing slow: “So late, Life God—what brings you?”
“Couldn’t sleep. A stroll.” Random excuse. “What a coincidence—you can’t sleep either?”
The War God smiled: “Practicing a new art lately—no progress—mind restless—sleep ruined.”
Only then she noticed—a snow-white rabbit in the War God’s arms, newborn-looking.
She thought of Bai Yanci—eyes on the rabbit lingered.
The War God noticed, came closer, let her hold the rabbit: “Picked this up traveling the mortal world. Pet only—no spirit—amuses me on dull days.”
No spirit—not jade rabbit—just looked somewhat alike—not her Bai Yanci.
Some loss: “You said no progress—what art are you practicing?”
“Construction art.” The War God explained calm. “Texts say construction builds space. Truth is it doesn’t only build space—it can build power too. Copy.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
The War God formed seals, flowed divine power, touched the Spirit Tide jade pendant lightly—a identical phantom appeared.
“See—Spirit Tide jade pendant copied with construction art.” The War God smiled. “Split part of the true body’s power—you get a small artifact usable on its own.”
Familiar art before her eyes—Jade Dust’s face flashed in her mind.
She set the constructed phantom in her palm, voice heavy: “So this is… the pendant’s phantom.”