ATEG Chapter 123

“I am leaving,” Yang Cang said.

He bent down to pick up the stone that had fallen to the ground, gazing at Chaihuo. “You…” He let out a sigh, then drifted away and vanished without a trace.

……

Feiying felt a surge of excitement. He had finally touched upon a corner of the world’s vast shadow.

“Sui’s scheme has failed.” Fu Daren murmured to himself after receiving a piece of news.

Sui. Feiying’s mind raced to the great events that had recently unfolded in Sui — using Sui to strike Lu. This was precisely what Fu Daren had called the scheme of many nations!

Sui, Lu, and even the Great Yin — all were part of this scheme. This was the true power of Xuanqing Sect!

Feiying could not help but feel excited. Perhaps Fu Daren had said it deliberately for him to hear, as a way to intimidate him. People like them — unscrupulous rogue cultivators — could not be said to possess anything called loyalty. Fu Daren wished to use him, and could only do so through coercion and inducement. But was that not exactly what he sought? The more fearsome Xuanqing Sect’s power, the greater the benefits it could offer!

Sui’s scheme had failed, yet Fu Daren showed not the slightest displeasure.

“That is their problem. We are only responsible for Liang,” Fu Daren said. Toward matters that did not concern him, he displayed an astonishing indifference — even toward fellow members of Xuanqing Sect, he invested not a shred of emotion in their successes or failures.

Feiying curled the corner of his mouth. A Xuanqing Sect like this suited him very well indeed.

“Then what are we to do now?” he asked.

“We have already sent out word of Xu Kang’s whereabouts. Find him, and kill him,” Fu Daren said.

“I thought that was the Liang King’s affair?” Feiying asked.

The position of Liang King had already been firmly secured by Xu Huan. The eldest prince Xu Kang, who had fled at the time, could not possibly pose any real threat — why would they need to deal with him personally? Even if the Liang King could not let it go in his heart and was determined to have Xu Kang killed, the public-facing members of Xuanqing Sect were more than sufficient for the task. Was it truly necessary to deploy this force hidden in the shadows? Was what they ought to be doing not things like refining the Dream-Eating Tapir and covertly stirring up internal strife within Lu Kingdom?

Fu Daren let out a scoffing laugh. “What else did you think you’d be doing?”

Feiying came back to his senses. He was still nothing more than a minor figure — it was far too early to think of participating in important affairs. He had grown impatient. Yet although he had only recently joined Xuanqing Sect, he had been pursuing the severed path of cultivation for several hundred years, and now that hope was in sight, it was inevitable that his state of mind had momentarily lost its balance.

As for why Xuanqing Sect’s hidden forces were being sent after Xu Kang…

“The public-facing Xuanqing Sect sometimes needs us to steer it in the right direction,” Fu Daren said, with the air of one speaking with hidden meaning.

The Xuanqing Sect as the world knew it was like a boat sailing the waters, while the hidden force was the undercurrent beneath the surface. The helmsman controlled which way the boat sailed, yet did not know that the undercurrent had already been guiding his course all along.

“Any further questions?”

“Yes,” Feiying said. “Whose orders do we receive?”

The smile on Fu Daren’s face suddenly deepened, and he said with profound meaning: “The orders we receive come from the Puppet Master Envoy Daren. Xuanqing Sect has six envoys, one for each of the various kingdoms. Within the Kingdom of Liang, the envoy is the Puppet Master Envoy Daren.” He conjured a wooden mask. The mask bore the natural grain of the wood — dense and strangely twisting, the patterns contorting into countless faces locked in expressions of weeping, laughing, fury, and fear. Frenzied limbs seemed both to dance and to struggle, surrounded and entangled by innumerable threads of grain, as though trapped within a web of fine, closely-woven lines.

“Whoever wears this mask is the Puppet Master Envoy Daren,” Fu Daren said. “Go and complete your task. Xu Kang’s whereabouts are at the northern border, near the Daqing Mountain Range.”

****

South of the Daqing Mountain Range, at the border of Liang, Xingfeng Temple.

Chang Shou looked at Tao Xi standing before him, his heart brimming with irrepressible curiosity.

He recognized the embroidery on Tao Xi’s robes — seven sea-wave patterns flowing with faint azure light, embroidered along the collar. This was the Seven-Pattern Collar of the Disciplinary Bureau. Within the Disciplinary Bureau, the highest rank bore nine patterns; a Seven-Pattern Collar was no small figure. How could such a person have suddenly come to the remote and out-of-the-way Xingfeng Temple?

Chang Shou studied Tao Xi carefully, yet noticed that although Tao Xi was speaking with his master, his gaze could not help but drift repeatedly toward himself.

He had been summoned here during his morning lessons by a young attendant of his master, who said he was needed to receive a guest. But when he arrived, he found that his master was already present as host. Chang Shou had originally assumed Tao Xi had come on account of Xingfeng Temple’s affairs — Xingfeng Temple sheltered a region within the borders of Liang, and naturally had dealings with the Disciplinary Bureau from time to time. But their Xingfeng Temple was not one of those rogue sects that acted with reckless abandon, and being situated in a remote area, their interactions with the Disciplinary Bureau had been infrequent and their relations with it passable enough. Why would the Disciplinary Bureau suddenly dispatch a Seven-Pattern Collar here?

Tao Xi did his best to conceal the shock in his heart, while carrying on a silent argument with the old Daoist through their eyes: How bold of you — to have stolen away the eldest prince!

The old Daoist remained unmoved, and replied with a look: If we hadn’t taken him away, would he still have his life?

Chang Shou was none other than Xu Kang, the missing eldest prince of Liang. When he disappeared, the previous Liang King Xu Chang had not yet died — but judging by the current situation, the now-reigning Liang King Xu Huan had likely already had victory well in hand at that time. Had Xu Kang remained in the royal palace, his situation by now would surely not have been good. Tao Xi could not dispute this, and could not help but look toward Chang Shou again — only to find that this eldest prince, now dressed in the garb of a young Daoist, was gazing back at him with clear, bright eyes.

Chang Shou looked at Tao Xi. He had begun to feel that Tao Xi had come on his account, and that his master had called him over specifically to let Tao Xi have a look at him. Since the matter concerned himself, he could not help but feel curious — his pair of bright, limpid eyes stared directly at Tao Xi, without the slightest attempt at concealment.

…Too forthright.

Tao Xi turned back to the old Daoist: How did you raise the eldest prince to be like this?!

Not a shred of cunning, not even a trace of concealment. The eldest prince he had known before was not like this at all! How was someone like this supposed to survive in the mess that was Liang Kingdom?

The old Daoist calmly sipped his tea: That was Chang Shou’s innate nature — they had not brainwashed Chang Shou in any way. They had only fabricated false memories for him and sealed away most of the royal aura upon him; otherwise there would have been no way to conceal him. Stealing someone out from under Xu Huan’s very nose had been no easy task. The way Prince Kang appeared now was simply that of an ordinary person with a trace of the Xu clan’s bloodline — Liang Kingdom had a long history, and such people were not uncommon. Xu Kang no longer remembered his own identity, and had never been discovered all this time. Who would have thought that the eldest prince could have been spirited away from Quqiu City, deep in the heart of Liang, all the way to the kingdom’s border?

But Chang Shou’s temperament had nothing to do with them — he had only been here a few months. That was the true nature he had revealed after losing his memory!

Chang Shou watched his master and Tao Xi carry on their silent argument, and very much wanted to interject. He had just begun to stir, opening his mouth eagerly —

“Very well. Go back and finish your morning lessons,” the old Daoist said.

Chang Shou: …

He had no choice but to withdraw, his heart full of unanswered curiosity. With one fewer person in the room, the atmosphere immediately grew heavy and tense.

“The strange ailment on Chang Shou’s body has already flared up once. I suppressed it with a secret technique. Since you have managed to track him down here, do you have any medicine on you?” the old Daoist asked Tao Xi.

“What strange ailment?” Tao Xi felt a sense of foreboding rise within him.

The old Daoist’s brow furrowed deeply. “You are a Seven-Pattern Collar of the Disciplinary Bureau, and you know nothing of this? Did the superior who sent you here explain nothing at all?”

Tao Xi shook his head, though a suspicion was already forming in his mind. Seeking Prince Kang was a secret mission restricted to those above the rank of Six-Pattern Collar. Three months prior, after being guided by Senior Li Quan to the northern border of Liang, Tao Xi had discovered certain clues in Divine Tree Village — but those had no connection to Prince Kang. He had been in the middle of his investigation when he suddenly received word from his superior, telling him that there was no longer any need to search for Prince Kang. Tao Xi had lingered in this area until now because of the matter at Divine Tree Village, and had unexpectedly, by sheer chance, managed to find the missing Prince Kang. As for his superior’s order — at the time, Tao Xi had assumed it was because the new Liang King had ascended to power and the outcome of the power struggle had already been decided, making Prince Kang no longer of any importance. Now, however, he could not help but suspect there was another reason behind it all…

“When did this ailment last flare up?” Tao Xi asked.

“Three months ago,” the old Daoist answered.

Just as he had thought. Tao Xi sighed inwardly. The order to cease searching for Prince Kang had not come because the Disciplinary Bureau had accepted the new Liang King — it was because they believed Prince Kang had already succumbed to his illness and died. Perhaps the cause and effect were even reversed: it was precisely because they believed Prince Kang was dead that the Disciplinary Bureau had decided to throw its support behind the new Liang King — they had been left with no other choice.

The old Daoist’s brow was still knitted tightly. He asked, “That shouldn’t be right… Chang Shou’s ailment has flared up more than once before. If you knew nothing of it, how did he manage all those previous times?”

Tao Xi could not answer his question, and instead asked, “Just what is this ailment?”

“This ailment is called Beisinqin. It is a life-threatening condition, though not necessarily fatal — the medicinal herbs required are simply rather difficult to find, and I have none in stock. For Chang Shou to have grown up safely, the royal treasury of Liang should have kept a reserve of the medicine…” the old Daoist said, puzzled.

If they intended to search for the person, why would they not have him carry the medicine? What if they found Chang Shou precisely when he was in the midst of a flare-up? Were they simply to watch him die?

Tao Xi frowned and asked, “Wait — ‘Beisinqin‘? Why does it have such a strange name?”

“Because when this ailment flares up, it is best to use the blood of a blood relative as a medicinal catalyst. Without it, the rare and precious ingredients required among the medicinal materials are beyond the means of ordinary people to afford. And should the afflicted person have no living blood relatives left in the world, they would essentially pine away from yearning and die,” the old Daoist said.

“It requires the blood of a blood relative?” Tao Xi ventured, “Could it be that the eldest prince’s illness was kept hidden precisely because of this?” Consuming a blood relative’s blood could all too easily give rise to unsavoury rumours.

“It shouldn’t have come to that — only a few drops of blood are needed as a catalyst,” the old Daoist shook his head. All Xu Chang had to do was let a few drops of his blood every six months for his son. It was not as though the person were being bled to the point of physical weakness — a cook accidentally cutting his hand while chopping vegetables would lose more blood than that. Why would anyone hide Chang Shou’s condition on those grounds?

Tao Xi could not make sense of it either, but he was now more troubled by how to handle the situation with Xu Kang. With Xu Huan now in power — a man who had killed Xu Chang to seize the throne, a fact that had not been made public but which Tao Xi, as a Seven-Pattern Collar of the Disciplinary Bureau, could deduce well enough — returning Prince Kang would be no guarantee of his life. If Xu Kang did not have this illness, it would be a different matter; he could survive by concealing his identity and living under a false name. But with this disease, there was no surviving without being sent back.

“If all else fails, we can find a way to send him to Mount Tu,” the old Daoist said.

“Mount Tu?” Tao Xi asked, puzzled.

“He carries the bloodline of Mount Tu. If he reaches Mount Tu, he will always find a way to survive,” the old Daoist said.

“That’s impossible!” Tao Xi objected. “The Xu clan has always been ordinary people — how could they possibly have the blood of Mount Tu…” As he spoke, something suddenly came to him, and his pupils shook violently.

“When I was using a secret technique to suppress his illness, I did confirm that he carries the bloodline of Mount Tu within him,” the old Daoist said, watching his expression. “Has something occurred to you?”

Tao Xi’s brow was knotted tight. Only after a long moment did he say, “Prince Kang’s parents were indeed both ordinary people — it would be impossible for them to produce a child with the bloodline of Mount Tu. The only possibility within the Xu bloodline for Mount Tu blood to have entered would have to have been something from the generation of the old king. Have you perchance heard the rumours about the old king’s favoured consort?”

The old Daoist’s brow furrowed deeply. “That favoured consort was of Mount Tu?”

“I do not know for certain. She did indeed have a human form, but she possessed a beauty rarely seen in the mortal world,” Tao Xi shook his head. If a demon had taken human form, the body obtained would be indistinguishable from that of a human, and he had no way of telling — but…

“If she were of the fox clan of Mount Tu, then the one in the Xu bloodline who should carry Mount Tu blood would not be Xu Kang, but Xu Huan,” Tao Xi said.

The old Daoist’s expression turned grave upon hearing this. “Xu Huan? The current Liang King Xu Huan?”

Tao Xi nodded, then asked: “Is there some problem with him?”

“Not exactly…” The old Daoist cast his mind back over what he had heard of Xu Huan. For the better part of the preceding twenty-some years, this former brother of the Liang King had been a presence of absolutely no consequence — which was precisely why, when he had suddenly become the new Liang King, everyone had been so astonished. Nearly everything known about Xu Huan had only begun to circulate after that event.

“Have you ever seen him in person?” the old Daoist asked.

“I happened to catch a glimpse of him once, before he became Liang King,” Tao Xi answered. He had been in this northern border region ever since being guided here by Senior Li Quan, and had not returned since. When he left the Liang capital, Xu Chang had still been king. In the space of just a few short months, Liang had been turned upside down — the king, Xuanqing Sect, and the Disciplinary Bureau… At times, when Tao Xi received word from the Disciplinary Bureau, he felt a sense of absurdity wash over him. The northern border here was far enough away that the changes were not yet so apparent — Xuanqing Sect’s influence did not seem to have spread this far. Or did it? He thought of the faint clues he had found in the Divine Tree Village. Perhaps Xuanqing Sect’s traces had appeared here earlier than anywhere else. The Disciplinary Bureau’s situation was growing increasingly precarious — the newly enthroned Liang King did not favour them, and seemed to have already resolved to side with Xuanqing Sect. Yet could he not see that without the Disciplinary Bureau to provide a counterbalance, he as Liang King would become nothing but a puppet of Xuanqing Sect? Or was he in fact no different from the previous Liang King Xu Chang — only that Xu Chang had chosen the Luo Sect while Xu Huan had chosen Xuanqing Sect? One had slain his father; the other, his brother…

Tao Xi let his mind divide between two streams at once — turning matters over in his thoughts while answering the old Daoist’s question. He had only caught a brief glimpse of Xu Huan at the time. His impression was of an unremarkable man — though he possessed an extremely cold and strikingly beautiful face, the whole person seemed to have no vitality about him, pale as a statue carved from ice and snow. He appeared to be sensitive to the cold, bundled as he was in a thick fur robe. That air of silence and desolation, as faint and fading as a shadow about to dissolve in sunlight.

The old Daoist seemed to confirm something from his description, and his expression darkened. “So that is how it is.”

Tao Xi looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Beisinqin…” The old Daoist closed his eyes and drew a slow, deep breath. “Their bloodlines are the same. Using a blood relative’s blood as a catalyst to refine the power of the Mount Tu bloodline — that could also cure his ailment.” The bloodline of Mount Tu was inherited from the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox; that formidable power would be sufficient to stand in for those medicinal herbs, and with even greater efficacy. If the Mount Tu bloodline could be fully awakened within him, Xu Kang’s Beisinqin affliction could be cured without medicine altogether.

But the refinement of bloodline was a forbidden art — no orthodox tradition of any kind would permit its existence. Between “bloodline” and “blood,” there was only a single character’s difference, yet a world of difference in meaning. Loss of blood, so long as it was not excessive, would recover in time — but damage to one’s bloodline struck at one’s very foundation. Moreover, the power of a bloodline could not be extracted through something as simple as letting blood. Forbidden arts were forbidden arts for a reason; none of them were without their brutality.

Tao Xi’s own expression could not help but turn grim. If this conjecture was true, then what had befallen Xu Chang and his son could hardly be called unjust.

The old Daoist let out a sigh and offered an explanation on his disciple’s behalf. “Chang Shou knows nothing of any of this. He only knows that the queen mother forced him to drink a large bowl of tonic every month.” The medicine given once every six months had likely been mixed in with it.

Tao Xi had already lost his desire to concern himself with these matters. The Xu clan was nothing but a tangled mess of accounts — from the moment the old Liang King had shown favouritism toward his consort and youngest son, those accounts had only grown uglier. The Disciplinary Bureau’s fundamental duty was to be responsible for Liang Kingdom. As for the royal aura of the Xu clan — without Liang Kingdom, for whom would the Xu clan be king? Their royal aura was upheld by the common people of Liang.

But the old Daoist saw the situation just as clearly. “We cannot allow Liang to fall into the hands of Xuanqing Sect.”

Tao Xi said quietly, “No. We cannot.”

Xuanqing Sect appeared to have saved countless lives amid great calamity, but their motives were impure and their ambitions vast. Setting aside all else, among the clues Tao Xi had uncovered in Divine Tree Village on this very visit, the shadow of Xuanqing Sect had dimly lurked. And thinking further to why he had come to Divine Tree Village in the first place — that ancient battlefield pit, buried beneath the earth, holding the bones and aggrieved souls of countless unknowns — had Senior Li Quan not happened upon it and resolved the matter, it would surely have become a source of disaster for the surrounding region. From these two locations alone, it was plain that Xuanqing Sect was anything but benevolent. Yet the newly enthroned Liang King Xu Huan had chosen to align himself with them.

Should they try to find a way to draw the new Liang King to their side, or simply replace him with a different Liang King altogether? Tao Xi reined in his thoughts — they were coming dangerously close to violating the disciplines he had taken. But each time he recalled what he had witnessed in the pit and in Divine Tree Village, he could not hold back the desire to destroy Xuanqing Sect entirely, even if it might require crossing certain lines.

Yet even if he had steeled himself for that, it would still be an enormously difficult undertaking. Xuanqing Sect had, for all intents and purposes, already seized control of Liang Kingdom. What remained untouched was only so because of its remoteness — for the time being. The Disciplinary Bureau’s circumstances were growing ever more dire; it could offer little in the way of support. Who else was there…

Tao Xi found himself thinking, unexpectedly, of Senior Li Quan, who had guided him here. He had dismantled the arrangements in the pit, and those in Divine Tree Village had most likely been undone by him as well. At the time, Tao Xi had not revealed his mission to find Prince Kang to anyone — yet Senior Li Quan had hinted that at the northern border, he might find the thread that would allow him to unravel the whole. Sure enough, here he had found the traces of Xuanqing Sect, and had also discovered the missing Prince Kang. Was Senior Li Quan an enemy of Xuanqing Sect? Could he be trusted? But then why, at that time, had he left with that purple-robed figure from within Xuanqing Sect?

Tao Xi drew his increasingly disordered thoughts back together. Whatever they chose to do, it was best that Xu Kang remain alive.

“Can you obtain blood from one of his blood relatives?” the old Daoist asked.

“It will be somewhat difficult, and will require some time,” Tao Xi said, nodding.

Fortunately, the Xu clan was not like the Ying clan of Sui Kingdom, which had been reduced to a single line of descent for several generations. The princess Xu Yourong, whose bloodline was closest to Xu Kang’s, was still alive — but she was now imprisoned within the palace, and blood from either her or Xu Huan was out of the question. The old Liang King, however, had not only fathered Xu Chang and Xu Huan — he had other children as well, each with their own bloodlines continuing in the world. Xu Kang’s cousins and half-siblings were by no means few in number.

“Then we shall…” The old Daoist suddenly stopped speaking. A young Daoist attendant came hurrying in, clutching a paper crane in his hands.

The old Daoist took the paper crane and swept it with his divine consciousness. His expression shifted at once.

“Xuanqing Sect has made its move.”