# Chapter 87: One Cannot Have It All
Sanshan City.
Sun Xiaoman hurried into her mother's room.
Ever since the battle on Jade Scales Peak had ended, Dou Yuemei had locked herself in her room and refused to come out. She had left all the city's affairs to Sun Xiaoman to handle, and had not even shown her face when the new dean of the Sanshan City Dao Academy took office.
This was the first time in all these days that she was willing to see anyone.
"...Mother." The moment Sun Xiaoman laid eyes on Dou Yuemei, her heart trembled.
So haggard and drained — was that still her mother?
"Xiaoman." Dou Yuemei looked at her daughter, and a trace of color finally returned to her pale face. "How is the city?"
"All right, more or less." Sun Xiaoman dared not say that ever since the failed battle on Jade Scales Peak, quite a few talented disciples of the Academy had transferred to other city domains, claiming there was no hope to be seen here.
There were not many such people, but for the talent-starved Sanshan City, it was like frost atop snow.
"That's good, then." Dou Yuemei no longer seemed to care much about the answer. "And Xiaoyan?"
"Still locked in his room. Says he never wants to speak to you again."
Dou Yuemei sighed, a wistful look in her eyes. "It seems this time he's truly angry."
"Don't worry — he'll forget in a while."
Sun Xiaoman's eyes carried a hint of weariness, which she tried her best to keep her mother from seeing.
Managing the affairs of the City Lord's Mansion was no task she was skilled at. But Sun Xiaoyan was incapable of taking charge, and her mother had sunk so low, dejected day after day — she had no choice but to shoulder the burden.
For her, she would rather pick up her great hammer and trade blows with a few hundred experts than bury her head in a pile of documents.
"After all these days, I've finally come to understand." Dou Yuemei gathered herself a little and sighed. "Sanshan City must still be held up, and your brother's cultivation cannot be neglected. Most importantly, I must not hold you back any longer."
Sun Xiaoman raised her eyes to look at her. "Mother..."
"Go find your master!" Dou Yuemei said with some emotion. "This world is not what your father believed it to be. Everything he did was meaningless. This is not a world of reason — it is a world of the strong."
It was truly hard to imagine. For a woman who had taken her husband as her spiritual pillar, who had absolute faith in him, how deep must her despair be to speak such words? To deny the very efforts her husband had made?
Sun Xiaoman felt that what her mother said was not right, but she did not know how to refute it.
"Your master is very strong, but back then your mother still insisted on keeping you by her side, because she believed that one day she would not be inferior to him. That if you lived with your mother, your cultivation would not suffer."
Dou Yuemei's voice was low. "But now... I will never surpass him."
As she spoke, Dou Yuemei sat before the dressing mirror she used so often, though she faced away from it. Sunlight filtered through the window lattice, falling upon her haggard face, making it all the more pale.
Sun Xiaoman sat cross-legged on the floor, her small silver hammer swaying at her wrist. She pillowed her head on her hand and leaned it against her mother's knee.
Dou Yuemei stroked her temple and continued, "The path of pure martial cultivation has not yet opened a complete road. So the martial artist's path is very hard to walk. Your master is only one of the explorers. Most of the time, you can only rely on yourself. You must think more."
"Mm." Sun Xiaoman's voice was soft.
"You have talent. Before the twelfth heaven, the road lies open and flat before you, so I need not speak of the cultivation before the Inner Prefecture realm."
Dou Yuemei took out a small booklet, so thin it was only a few pages. "This is some of my insights into the exploration of the seed of divine power. Take it. All great paths lead to the same end, and when one principle is understood, all are understood. Perhaps it will be of some help to you."
Seeing that Sun Xiaoman had accepted it, she went on with a sigh. "The martial artist climbs the thirty-three heavens, yet even now it is only a notion. No one has ever made it to the end. I wonder — how far will my daughter go?"
Sun Xiaoman raised one hand high, and the little silver hammer swayed. "To the highest!"
Dou Yuemei smiled. She reached out and tapped her daughter's nose. "Go on, then. Go."
Sun Xiaoman stood up, her bare feet on the ground. "Mother, I'm going now?"
Dou Yuemei's smile was laced with tears. "Go on."
Sun Xiaoman suddenly smiled mischievously. "Before I go, I'll teach Sun Xiaoyan a lesson!"
Seeing Dou Yuemei open her mouth to stop her, she cut in, "Mother, listen to me. A good beating now and then is good for a child, body and soul. Don't be reluctant. Father is already gone. Let the past stay in the past. But the future is still long!"
She hopped a few steps, then turned back and blinked. "If you ask me, my master seems quite taken with you!"
"Go on, go on! What do you know!"
Her daughter left, to go and beat her son.
Dou Yuemei felt an inexplicable sense of comfort. She pushed the strange thought out of her mind.
She turned back, facing the dressing mirror.
In the mirror was a face without rouge or powder — haggard, yes, but still showing the outline of a once-beautiful countenance.
She reached up and gently traced her own cheek, a faint sigh escaping her lips. "You dead man, dying so soon — did you ever think it wasn't worth it? What a pity — this face of mine, blooming like a flower and fair as the moon..."
...
Jiang Wang was, of course, no stranger to Vice Dean Song Qifang, and he felt no lack of respect for him. Dong A had been exiled to Fenglin City only a few years ago; before that, the Fenglin City Dao Academy had always been under Song Qifang's stewardship.
Of course, constrained by his own strength and vision, the Fenglin City Dao Academy had been consistently weak under his leadership.
Now that Dong A had taken over as the Dean, Song Qifang, as Vice Dean, focused on alchemy and divination in addition to teaching. It was a fair enough division of labor — each was put to proper use.
Because he was neither contentious nor grasping, and always amiable, he was widely respected by the disciples.
But Jiang Wang could not think why Song Qifang would have summoned him.
"Dean Song." Jiang Wang entered the alchemy chamber and bowed respectfully. "You wished to see me?"
The white-haired Song Qifang turned from the furnace, looking at Jiang Wang with a kind smile. "Jiang Wang, how is your cultivation coming along these days? Any problems?"
"I am grateful for your concern, Dean Song." Jiang Wang felt flattered by the attention. "The instructors are all very responsible, and my cultivation is still rather shallow — my questions are all quite basic. Sometimes the senior brothers can help me out. I have no particular difficulties for now."
Song Qifang nodded with satisfaction. "You are one of the finest disciples in the City Dao Academy. I am at ease with you."
"The Academy is full of experts. I hardly dare claim such a thing."
"I have heard of what happened in Wangjiang City." Song Qifang glanced at the fire in the furnace before continuing. "Your performance was outstanding. Still, in certain matters, one must be mindful of the method. We are closely connected to Wangjiang City, like a strip of water between us — there was really no need to make things so rigid."
Jiang Wang was displeased by the manner of speaking that, without asking how things had unfolded, without weighing right or wrong, sought to pin blame with a single phrase.
But his face betrayed nothing. He only said, "Your teaching is well taken, Dean Song."
"Of course, when family matters are involved, a young man's impulsiveness is understandable." Song Qifang smiled and fanned the fire, speaking as though it were of no consequence. "I hear that you possess an extraordinary sword technique, which shone brilliantly in both Sanshan City and Wangjiang City?"
"I did, by a fortunate coincidence, come into possession of a sword technique." Jiang Wang frowned slightly. "But it is not so miraculous as others have made it out to be."
"To achieve success without arrogance — very good." Song Qifang paused, then turned to look Jiang Wang in the eye. "I wonder if you would be willing to contribute this Dao art to the Academy? So that the other disciples of our Academy might also benefit. Do not worry — Dao Merit will be counted generously, I give you my word."
The Zhuang Kingdom's Dao Academy did indeed have a tradition of exchanging goods for Dao Merit, allowing those disciples with ample resources to contribute their wealth, benefiting both the Academy and the cultivator. Techniques were naturally included in this.
But it was purely a matter of voluntary consent.
In other words, had Jiang Wang wished to, he would have done so long ago. Why wait for Song Qifang to bring it up?
Sharing it with Zhao Rucheng, Ling He, and Du Yehu — that was willingly done. But it did not mean that Jiang Wang was overflowing with a love for all mankind, a concern for every living being. That would not be love — it would be foolishness.
So Jiang Wang asked directly: "Is this Dean Dong's will?"
Song Qifang's face darkened slightly. "I should think that in the Fenglin City Dao Academy, what I say still carries some weight. Even Dean Dong would not disregard my opinion."
No wonder the Fenglin City Dao Academy had been so mediocre under his hand in years past — this man was steeped in the stench of the old ways!
Jiang Wang thought this to himself, but bowed in salute. "In that case, I must beg to be excused."
With that, he turned and left.
His sword hung at his waist.
At that moment, he carried a blade's own edge.