Years ago, before the great hall of the Zhuang court, Dean Dong had openly accused Grand General Huangfu Duanming, raging that he had monopolized the military authority of the realm.
And he had used a very grave word indeed: "perhaps of seditious intent."
The outcome was that Huangfu Duanming still stood firm as a mountain, while Dong was exiled to Maple Forest City and, from that day, cast out of the center of power of the Zhuang court. Even this was the hard-won result of Chancellor Du Ruhui coming to his defense.
Unless Huangfu Duanming fell, Dong would likely never, for the rest of his life, set foot in Xin'an City again.
...
Few could truly comprehend what lay in Dean Dong's heart.
Only when the whole affair had settled to dust did he turn and look at the brightest of this year's new crop of students. "You sought me out today. Is there something?"
Jiang Chen had made up his mind. But standing at the very threshold, he hesitated once more.
After all, this was no small matter. It touched on life itself.
At last he hedged: "Disciple does not know whether he ought to say..."
Dean Dong turned and walked away. "Then come back when you have decided."
Jiang Chen: "..."
...
Even when they had returned to the courtyard, Jiang Chen still hung at his back. Dong paid him no mind, went straight to the quiet meditation chamber, and sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion.
It seemed that if Jiang Chen still did not speak, he would simply begin his cultivation.
"Master Dong!"
Having made his resolve, Jiang Chen abruptly dropped to kneel and bowed, prostrate, refusing for a long while to lift his head.
It was the first time he had ever shown Dong such great ceremony—which made plain how earnest and how stubborn he was.
But Dong only said, flatly: "Rise and speak."
Still that unsmiling, grave demeanor, as though nothing in the world could move him—and no person, no thing, could change him.
Jiang Chen lifted his head and sat on his knees, facing Dong. His eyes were faintly red.
"Master Dong, before I report, I ask that you promise me something. In the days to come, look after my younger sister, Jiang An'an. Other than her, I have nothing left to worry about."
Dong knit his brows. "If you want to make your last arrangements, save them for the moment you actually die."
Jiang Chen's resolution, mulled over the whole night, was broken off cleanly by these words.
He silently gathered himself.
After a good while, he went on: "I suspect the Bone Path is brewing some new plot. Since they sacrificed the town of Xiaolin, and then the city lord cut down a full round of them at the Three-City Debate, everyone believes they have left the state of Zhuang.
But the truth is they never left the territories of Maple Forest City—their lair was even at Ox-Head Mountain, right next to the city guard camp!
They have since moved on. Where, exactly, I do not know.
But there is more. Fang Lin is already one of the Bone Path's people, working for them. I suspect there are many more entangled with the cult, or enslaved by it. They possess something called the 'bone seed'—exceedingly rare—that can control a person utterly and completely."
Dong waited quietly until he was done, then asked: "How do you know all this?"
Jiang Chen was silent for a moment. "While carrying out an investigation, I discovered something off about Fang Lin. Last night, I was trailing Fang Lin too—I was not the only one. Besides the Bureau's covert sentinel, there was also me.
We chased them as far as Ox-Head Mountain and ran into an ambush.
The Bureau's covert sentinel was killed... but they said I am the Bone Dao Child reborn, the future Holy Sovereign of the Bone Path. They believed I was one of them."
In the end, he chose to confess.
It was without question a terribly difficult decision. But he made it all the same.
Just a student's trust in his teacher.
Just a young man, weighing his own safety against the safety of the entire city, making one straightforward choice.
He did not know what awaited him. Indeed, he had even braced himself for Dong to put duty before kin—for the dean he so respected had always been unbending, a man with no tolerance for a grain in his eye.
"And what do you think?" Dong asked instead.
"Ah?"
"About them calling you the Bone Dao Child. What do you think?"
Jiang Chen lowered his head, dejected. "It seems I really might be..."
"What I am asking is—" Dong repeated—"what do you think?"
Jiang Chen's head snapped up. "Of course I do not want it! I could never slaughter common folk, could never harm the innocent, could never desecrate the dead—I cannot let my humanity be annihilated! I would rather die than join the Bone Path!"
His feelings ran feverish and fierce.
But Dong only nodded. "Very well. Go back now."
Jiang Chen stood frozen.
Just like that, you let me go? You're sending me back?
Am I not the Bone Dao Child? Am I not the future Holy Sovereign of the Bone Path—the very chief of all those demons and heretics!
And you simply let me leave?
"Is there anything else?" Dong asked, impatient.
Jiang Chen tested the waters. "The matter of the Bone Path..."
"I'll handle it."
"Then should the disciple... go to the city lord's manor and report this to Lord Wei?"
"I will speak with Wei Ling myself."
"Then... you have no order for me at all?"
"Cultivate diligently, and take good care of your sister." Dong remained miserly with his words.
"And besides that?"
"...Trouble me less."
"Ah—yes." Dazed and dreamy, Jiang Chen rose and made for the door.
He took two steps, then could not help turning back. "Master Dong, are you truly not going to give me anything to do?"
Dong let out a sigh. For once, he spoke at unusual length: "Must you have me spell out for you how much you are nothing but a glass against a force like the Bone Path—how utterly fragile, how utterly useless you are?"
"...I understand."
Jiang Chen strode out the door.
From behind came Dong's voice again: "Oh, and—if they should still share any word with you, their future Holy Sovereign, tell me at once."
The winter sunlight outside seemed strangely blinding.
Jiang Chen's nose pricked.
"I will!" he said.
...
On a high cliff, the mountain wind tossed his long hair.
"When will the Dao Child awaken?" The Bone Mask Messenger walked up behind White Lotus and asked.
White Lotus turned around. "I do not know what you are talking about."
A lotus-pattern mask covered her face; only her eyes met the Messenger's.
"Wear a mask long enough," the Messenger said, "and perhaps you forget who you are."
He reached out and lifted the lotus-pattern mask off her face, revealing the countenance that belonged to Miao Qing.
"And you?" Miao Qing asked. "Do you still remember who you are?"
"Me." The Bone Mask Messenger stepped to her side; the two stood together atop the cliff, only facing in opposite directions. "No. I do not remember," he said.
Miao Qing seemed not to care about his answer, and turned to another question. "Has Lu Yan sought you out?"
The Messenger gazed down from the cliff. "Every soul in this Bone Path is half-true, half-false. Every word spoken is measured with care. We probe each other, set upon each other, and yet we must all press forward toward the same goal. Until the last moment, no one can say whose stance is true and whose is false. He lets on that he wants to kill Zuo Guanglie—but that is only worth believing if I dare."
"So are you such a one," Miao Qing said, "and I too must dare to believe you."
"You should, of course, believe me—because at least until now, our aim is still one and the same. We both seek the awakening of the Dao Child."
"Every soul in the Bone Path waits for the Dao Child to awaken. But no one cares who the Dao Child is."
"And you? Do you care?"
"I once believed I would not care—because no matter whose body he is born into, the Dao Child is still the Dao Child. But now." Miao Qing pressed a hand gently to her heart. "It seems I feel a little confused."
"That is dangerous."
"Yes..."
"Then set down what you wish to do," said the Bone Mask Messenger. "After all, by the oracle, once the plan reaches that stage, the Dao Child will awaken on his own. Whether you do or do not, whether you choose or do not choose—there is no difference."
"All the same, one hopes it might come about a little more completely." A lost, confused smile rose to Miao Qing's lips. "Who would have thought the Revered God would send down an oracle again? He has returned from the River of Oblivion, and still we try to divine the ways of heaven—how absurd we are."
"The plan is about to begin." The Bone Mask Messenger faced the far distance, flinging both arms wide, as though embracing everything his eyes could see. "Is there anything you wish to say to them?"
"May the Revered God bring them fairness," said Miao Qing.
In the distance rose a towering mountain, as though it had flown there from beyond the sky.