Outside Huanzhen Temple, before the fresh grave, Jiang Chen opened his eyes.
The little silver crescent sank into the palm of his right hand and branded itself there as a silver moon-mark, then vanished.
But Jiang Chen could still feel it clearly. It held no power of its own; it would simply reappear at a thought, link him to the Lunar Star, and draw his spirit sense back into that mysterious Ethereal Realm.
He did not linger there to explore. This wilderness was no place to lower his guard.
For one thing, once the aftershocks of a battle between mighty cultivators faded, someone from Maple City might come to investigate. For another, Jiang Chen himself had something more pressing.
If he had counted the days right, the Inner Academy selection of the Maple City Academy was three days away.
Miss it, and he might never find another opening — an opening for revenge.
Because only the students of the Inner Academy were disciples of the Dao Academy in the eyes of the State of Zhuang. And a disciple of the Academy was not to be insulted lightly — let alone injured or killed!
He looked back once at the ruined temple that had sheltered his dying body for so many days. Then he stepped into the moonlight and strode away.
Weeds choked the ground before the temple gate. A gust of wind passed, letting the moonlight fall across the old plaque that had lain in the dirt for years. The characters were blurred, but two of them could still just be traced: "Huanzhen."
The moon shone on a broken temple and a new grave; the wind through the leaves sounded like a sigh — sorrowful, perhaps, or perhaps relieved.
* * *
Maple City was not actually small. For many who had lived there for generations, it was the whole world.
Apart from the City Lord, who embodied the will of the State of Zhuang, the masters of this ground were three great families: the Zhang, the Fang, and the Wang.
The night was deep when the back door of the Verdant House swung open. Amid the sweet laughter of a plump girl, a man in a side-slit robe staggered out, reeking of wine — the very picture of a man pleased with himself.
His name was Fang Decai.
That surname "Fang" had not come easily. His family had served the Fang clan since his grandfather's generation; three generations of service had bought the right to bear it. And because the Fang family treated him as a confidant, his purse was heavy enough for a monthly visit to a den of pleasure like the Verdant House.
He gave his favorite girl one last rough pinch and left, laughing loudly.
The plump girl watched him go with sham indignation, cooing protests after him. Only when his figure had vanished down the alley did she spit: "A cur trading on his master's power." She slammed the little door shut.
And so she never noticed the ragged man who had already drifted up behind Fang Decai.
Fang Decai had some martial training. The moment he sensed something wrong, he spun around, fist flying — but the other man scattered his stance with a single casual slap.
Then a hand closed around his throat, hoisted him off the ground, and pressed him hard against the wall.
Worse than the swelling pain in his face, worse than the air that would not come, was the face in front of him.
A gentle face. A calm face. Jiang Chen's face.
"J-Jiang..." Fang Decai hissed in terror through his crushed throat.
"Who gave you the order — the Fang family, or Fang Heng? Who else was in on it? What poison went into the wine? And how did you make contact with the remnants of the West Mountain bandits?"
Jiang Chen asked the questions slowly, and only when Fang Decai was a heartbeat from blacking out did he unhurriedly loosen his grip. "Now, take your time and tell me."
He glanced up at the moon. "We have all night."
The evening breeze nudged the clouds across the moon, and the low conversation in that alley was thin and faint — like the whispering of hungry ghosts.
That night: a bright moon in the sky, a drum in the wind. A man who had not died had come back to the city.
* * *
When daylight broke, Jiang Chen stood at the gates of the Maple City Academy.
The State of Zhuang took the Daoist sect as its state religion, and its strongest extraordinary power flowed from the Daoist sects; the academies spread across every city of its three counties were proof.
The Academy was not merely the first choice of Zhuang's young people for cultivation. Even officials at every level needed an Academy record before anyone would take them seriously.
And so, for all of Maple City, the most exalted ground was perhaps not the City Lord's mansion, nor the gates of the three great families — it was the Maple City Academy.
The Daoist lineage Zhuang inherited descended from Yujing Mountain, which prized ritual above all. The Academy had been built to match: magnificent and grand. Just the pair of jade lions crouching on either side of the gate radiated majesty.
Jiang Chen's clothes were still ragged; sniff closely and they even carried a sour stink. He had simply washed his face and tied his tangled hair back.
He stood before the Academy's open gates with his head high and his back straight — upright as a green pine.
The Outer Academy disciple on duty rubbed his eyes, rubbed them again, and cried out in disbelief: "J-Jiang — Senior Brother Jiang!?"
Jiang Chen nodded. "Junior Brother Wu. Good to see you."
As the Outer Academy disciple who fought hardest and feared death least, he had taken on more Academy missions than he could count; there was barely an outer disciple with more than a year's standing who didn't know him.
Junior Brother Wu spun around and ran inside, shouting in excitement: "Senior Brother Jiang Chen is back! Senior Brother Jiang Chen is back!"
In moments, a tide of outer disciples came swarming, packing the gateway until it was full, calling "senior brother" this and "senior brother" that over each other. Jiang Chen's standing among them was plain to see.
Among the dozens, a few figures stood out. Even in the crush, the crowd unconsciously made way for them.
"You damned son of a turtle, Jiang! Where have you been hiding? I thought you were dead, damn it all!"
The one bellowing from a distance was Du Hu. When he ran, the slabs of muscle on his body looked ready to burst his training clothes. His face was remarkable too — a full, bristling beard. Standing there, he looked two or three rounds older than the disciples around him; you could have taken him for some mountain bandit king. Anything but an eighteen-year-old.
Because he had grown up in such a hurry, people called him "the prematurely bearded."
He squeezed out of the crowd like a bear, wrapped Jiang Chen in a hug without a care for the sour smell, and kept repeating, "Damn it all! Damn it all!"
"Good that you're back!"
Saying the words "good that you're back" with tears in his eyes and a trembling lip — that was Ling Chuan.
His features were regular and composed, his forehead broad; he looked like a steady, quiet sort of man. He stood behind Du Hu in washed-out training clothes and simply looked at Jiang Chen, fixed and silent.
Only one handsome youth leaned in, looked Jiang Chen up and down, and then pointed at his rags with a grin. "How did you end up looking like a ghost?"
His name was Zhao Yan. He was the best-looking of them, and his smile carried a hint of mischief. But only those who truly knew him could see the faint glimmer of tears hiding in those smiling eyes.
These men looked nothing alike and shared no single temperament — but every one of them had a friendship with Jiang Chen that had been bought with lives.
Through countless trials and missions in the Outer Academy, they had stood together and survived danger after danger. The bond ran deep.
Yet Jiang Chen's gaze passed over all of them and settled on one handsome youth in the crowd whose eyes seemed a little red.
The youth said nothing and did nothing. But simply by standing there, he was the quiet center of the crowd.
"Peng— Fang Heng. Fifty-seven days." Jiang Chen bit off every word. "I thought of you every single day."
"You only thought of Fang Heng? You didn't think of your second brother?" Du Hu grabbed Jiang Chen's shoulders and shook him, hollering.
Ling Chuan and Zhao Yan both went silent.
Fifty-seven days was a very specific, very sensitive number. It had been exactly fifty-seven days since Jiang Chen's disappearance.
Fang Heng, resplendent in rich brocade, stepped forward with a smile. "Good that you're back. We've all been worried sick these days."
"Yes," Jiang Chen said, smiling back. "Without a corpse, how could you not worry?"
Fang Heng's face changed. "What is that supposed to mean? After what happened to you, I was burning with anxiety! I sent men everywhere to find you!"
"Which is why I didn't dare show my face until today," Jiang Chen said softly.
"Jiang Chen! It was common knowledge that the West Mountain bandit remnants attacked you! Are you actually suspecting me?" Fang Heng's face flushed red with outrage. "The Five Heroes of Maple City are closer than brothers! Did you hear some vicious rumor?"
Ling Chuan, Du Hu, Jiang Chen, Fang Heng, Zhao Yan — these five were the most outstanding disciples of the Maple City Academy's Outer Academy. Kindred in spirit, they had always swept the bandit nests together, come and gone together. People called them the Five Heroes of Maple City.
Sensing the atmosphere freeze, the outer disciples who had come to welcome Jiang Chen grew uneasy.
"Could Fang Heng really have harmed Senior Brother Jiang?"
"Don't talk nonsense. Fang Heng has always been righteous — he would never. It must be a misunderstanding!"
"I'm not so sure... Senior Brother Jiang is no fool to be played."
The crowd whispered.
"We're all brothers here — watch what you say!" Du Hu glared at Jiang Chen, his face anxious. His gut feeling was very bad, but he had no way to stop what was coming.
Ling Chuan thought for a moment, then spoke to dissuade him. "Third Brother, you've clearly been through a great deal these days. You've suffered. Why not settle in first? The Inner Academy selection is in a few days — that concerns your whole life and must be treated with care. We've already joined forces and wiped out those West Mountain remnants; if there's more hidden behind it, we can comb through it slowly. If you've been wronged, if you hate — your brothers will stand with you, even if we have to take it to the County Academy, to the National Academy!"
"...But Fang Heng swore blood brotherhood with us. I'm certain there's some misunderstanding. Perhaps someone is sowing discord—"
"Big Brother." Jiang Chen cut him off. "When have I ever spoken recklessly? I treasure this brotherhood no less than you do. Which is exactly why — if I say it today, it means things truly are as I say."
"Fang Heng!" Jiang Chen turned to the brocade-clad youth and pointed. "I hope that after you open this box, you can still be so righteous!"
Only then did the crowd notice the large chest sitting behind Jiang Chen.
"No matter what has happened, I, Fang Heng, would never harm a friend!" Fang Heng paused only an instant before speaking with ringing conviction. "Then I'll look myself — let me see what filthy 'evidence' could make Third Brother doubt his own brother!"
He strode out of the gate, drew the longsword at his waist, and flicked the lid open with one stroke!
Inside, a man lay tied up tight as a bundle, rags stuffed in his mouth. The moment he saw Fang Heng, his expression turned frantic and he whimpered desperately.
Du Hu and Ling Chuan both fell silent. They recognized him: Fang Heng's trusted servant, Fang Decai.
"That day, this slave of yours brought me a note saying you'd invited me to drink at the Moon-Gazing Tower. When I arrived, you weren't there yet. He urged me to drink a few cups first — to try the fine wine you'd sent specially. The poison in that wine... was Yin-Yang Parting Powder."
"The moment the toxin flared, bandits broke down the door... I had wiped out the West Mountain bandits with my own hands. I never imagined I would nearly die to a handful of their remnants in the middle of Maple City!"
Jiang Chen's voice drifted on: "So the first thing I did when I could stand again was go find Fang Decai."
Fang Heng was silent for a single breath. Then his sword flashed forward!
"You beast! My Fang family treated you well, and you dared conspire with bandits, forge my letters, and harm my Third Brother!"
The stroke was fast and sure. Blood sprayed. Fang Decai convulsed, gurgled a few times through his ruined throat, and went still as a dead dog. From beginning to end, he never had the chance to speak one word in his own defense.
"Fang Heng!" No one present was a fool. Du Hu was rough, but rough is not stupid; his tiger eyes bulged round, fury surging.
"Second Brother." Fang Heng lowered the dripping sword, his face full of shame. "I... my anger clouded my mind. I only wanted to kill this beast and avenge Third Brother!"
"It's all right." Jiang Chen watched Fang Heng finish his performance, then shook a folded paper out of his robe — covered in dense writing. "I have Fang Decai's confession here, signed and sealed. Would you like to read it?"
Clang!
Fang Heng tossed the sword aside and dropped to his knees. "I don't need to read it to know roughly what it says. It only proves the West Mountain bandits never stopped wanting me dead — heaven knows what price they paid to make that beast Decai so loyal! But Third Brother, you must believe me: I have always walked openly. When have I ever stooped to a villain's deed? Whatever came before this, my Fang family will give you an accounting! I will post a reward of ten thousand coins and purge every bandit within a hundred miles, to wash away the hatred in your heart!"
Some outer disciples in the crowd spoke up: "Senior Brother Jiang, the Five Heroes of Maple City are all good men — the pride of our Outer Academy! Don't let villains drive a wedge between you!"
"My old mother was gravely ill once, and Senior Brother Fang paid for her medicine out of his own purse. I refuse to believe he's that kind of man."
Someone spat on Fang Decai's corpse. "A wicked servant like that deserves worse than death — slandering Senior Brother Fang's name, poisoning the brotherhood of the Five Heroes! If he were still alive, I'd cut him to pieces myself!"
"Enough, fellow disciples — say no more!" Fang Heng waved the chatter down, shuffled forward on his knees, and looked up at Jiang Chen with perfect sincerity. "When Third Brother went missing, I led men searching everywhere and broke down weeping more than once! My devotion to Third Brother is known to all — heaven and earth bear witness! But even with a clear conscience, I cannot escape this: if I had not trusted Decai, and Third Brother had not trusted me, how could that beast have found his opening? All the guilt is mine. I will bear it alone!"
"I will empty my private treasury to repay Third Brother's pain! I will take the whip to atone for trusting wrongly! I will go alone to scour the bandits and swear to destroy the West Mountain remnants to the last man — until they are gone, I will not return to this city!"
"I do this not as compensation — Third Brother nearly died, and no debt like that can be repaid! But we were brothers, and I cannot forgive myself!"
"If..." Fang Heng's voice broke into sobs at last; he ground his teeth. "If Third Brother's hatred still burns, then take up this sword and kill me with one stroke! Fang Heng will not complain!"
Every eye turned to the bloodied sword lying on the ground.
"Senior Brother Fang, you mustn't!"
"I believe this isn't your fault — how can a true man speak of dying so lightly!"
At this scene, every onlooker was moved, and voices rose to stop him all around.
Even Ling Chuan, after a long silence, spoke again. "Third Brother, Fourth Brother, this matter—"
Jiang Chen swept his tattered sleeve and stepped forward, spine straight. "Fang Heng. I took wounds for you. You stood up for me. The five of us lived and died together."
Ling Chuan, Du Hu, Zhao Yan — every one of them had reddened eyes. The blood and tears they had shared, the days of struggle, the joy — only they themselves knew.
A brotherhood sealed in life and death could never be summed up in a few sentences.
"Third Brother..." Fang Heng hung his head, tears streaming, choking on the words. "Every wrong is my wrong. I should never have trusted that wicked servant. I nearly let a catastrophe happen!"
"But since you've put it that way, Fang Heng..." Jiang Chen's voice came slowly. "Then your Third Brother will respectfully... do as you ask!"