WJ Chapter 116

Morning Wind (5)

And so, Changliu departed, and Ah Ku — or perhaps he should now be called Guan Wujue — departed as well. The figures of those two children were gone from the study, and Yangxin Hall fell suddenly cold and quiet.

Yun Guyan changed too. He was at the prime of his years then, yet Wen Huan watched with his own eyes as the Sect Leader let his days grow more and more listless, like a doddering old man of eighty.

Spring passed and autumn came; the first year went by just like that. Snow fell at the year’s end, and Yun Guyan and Wen Huan returned from a banquet of clinking cups and wine — at least they no longer had to squeeze into Ah Ku’s little wooden house to eat dumplings anymore.

The Sect Leader had no desire to keep the new year’s vigil. He waved Wen Huan away and went to bed. The splendid great hall was shrouded in darkness, and all at once it felt vast and empty.

From that day on, Yun Guyan suddenly took on a habit his son had once possessed — he began to like lying listlessly in the pitch-black Yangxin Hall deep in the night without lighting a lamp, the very picture of a hero past his prime.

In the second year’s spring, Yun Guyan instructed Wen Huan to go to Ghost Gate and check whether that reckless child was still alive.

Wen Huan was gone for most of the day. He returned carrying a scroll of confidential Ghost Gate records and said, “Still alive.”

Then he read the records aloud to the Sect Leader. The first month: a lung injury, coughing blood without cease. The second month: three broken ribs, a short blade entering the abdomen more than two cun deep. The third month: ambushed and surrounded, sustaining a total of eight wounds. The fourth month: trapped, without water or food for three days, fever unabating. The fifth month…

“…”

Yun Guyan listened in silence until the end, feeling his throat go dry. He picked up his teacup and gulped down several large mouthfuls, then confirmed once more, “Alive?”

Wen Huan nodded. “According to Ghost Gate’s account, indeed alive.”

Yun Guyan said in disbelief, “Still alive through all that?!”

He immediately dashed off an edict, stamped it with the great seal, and granted Wen Huan special dispensation to enter Ghost Gate’s inner sanctum for a visit — a rare exception. Before he departed, the Sect Leader said, “If he truly is still alive, ask him whether he wants to come out.”

Wen Huan had not been gone long before he returned.

The person was alive. He did not want to come out.

In the first year of Ghost Gate, merely surviving was victory — even if you used cunning schemes, relied on forming factions, even if you hid and scraped by through deception, that too counted as your own ability.

But from the second year onward it was different. They were to begin competing through slaughter.

This cohort had sent in over four thousand children. After the first year only a little over one thousand remained; the quota for surviving the second year was two thousand. Ranked from highest to lowest by trial performance, any child falling below two thousand in rank would be executed at year’s end.

By the third year’s spring, Yun Guyan had no longer harbored any hope — yet he still had Wen Huan go to check.

Wen Huan returned once more with the confidential records. The answer was unexpected. “Still alive.”

Yun Guyan said, “His ranking.”

Wen Huan gave a soft sigh and answered, “…One thousand nine hundred and ninety.”

One thousand nine hundred and ninety out of two thousand — fourth from the bottom.

That child whom Yun Guyan had personally trained, who had once been able to hold his own against Young Sect Leader Changliu — now he was at the end of his strength, struggling among his peers to scrape out a last-place result.

With such a ranking, becoming a Yin Ghost was pure fantasy; he did not even qualify to become a Zhuhuo Guard. With one more year to go, Guan Wujue’s injuries would only pile higher and his body only grow worse. Dying inside Ghost Gate had become all but certain.

Yun Guyan pressed two fingers against his tightly furrowed brow. “There is no need to report again going forward. This lord has already broken the inner sanctum’s rules twice as exceptions — Elder Xue Duxing already bears a grudge against this lord for it.”

Wen Huan sighed, “Yes.”

From that point on, Yun Guyan truly never again inquired about Guan Wujue’s situation.

He ordered the Intelligence Hall to purge Ah Ku’s information, erasing as thoroughly as possible every trace of that little medicine person’s existence. The medicine person who had once detoxified the Young Sect Leader became a taboo that no one in the Sect dared mention, and was gradually forgotten in silence.

From Wuze Realm there continued to be not the slightest stir. The thick stone walls sealed away all sound; whether those inside were alive or dead was unknown.

The third year, the fourth year, the fifth year.

The cinnabar plum outside Ghost Gate bloomed and withered.

Green moss crept up the rocky cliffs outside Wuze Realm.

Without quite realizing it, five years had passed.

….

Another winter’s end, the cusp of spring.

Outside Ghost Gate, the cinnabar plum in the snow still burned red as blood, its trunk and branches grew thicker still — who could say how much blood it had drunk over these five years.

This year Ghost Gate opened somewhat earlier than usual.

Whenever the inner gate opened, it meant a new cohort of Yin Ghosts and Zhuhuo Guards who had passed their trials would return from that purgatory, to become the sword and shield guarding Xifeng City.

For the occasion, an altar was set up outside Ghost Gate with incense burning. The Gate Master bestowed the face-covering armor upon the Yin Ghosts and conferred swords upon the Zhuhuo Guards, bearing witness as they knelt before the great Candle Dragon banner and swore oaths of loyalty.

The hour was just past sunrise. Yun Guyan sat upon the prepared high seat, coldly sweeping his gaze over the incense altar and dragon banner below.

Five years’ time seemed unable to age this sect leader of deep inner cultivation by so much as half a moment, yet the aura of fearsome authority that had once surrounded him no longer radiated with such naked, sharp-edged brilliance.

Elder Xue Duxing bowed at Yun Guyan’s side and said, “Reporting to the Sect Leader: this year’s trials have produced two hundred and eight Yin Ghosts and five hundred and twelve Zhuhuo Guards — seven hundred and twenty persons in total emerging from Ghost Gate.”

“Mm. Very good.”

Yun Guyan murmured his assent, his heart seething with restlessness.

In truth, it was uncommon for the Sect Leader himself, in all his dignity, to attend in person and watch the Ghost Gate oath ceremony. When Yun Guyan arrived, Xue Duxing was genuinely startled for a moment, and hurriedly made impromptu preparations.

Yet strangely, though it was plainly Yun Guyan himself who had come uninvited, now that he was here and the moment of Ghost Gate’s opening drew near, his interest had drained away entirely.

In truth, even Yun Guyan himself found it strange. He truly did not know why he had come. He had told himself a thousand, ten thousand times that it was impossible for that child to still be alive — yet still he had put aside every obligation of the morning and come to sit here since early dawn.

Yun Guyan would never admit he had developed any laughable genuine feeling for Ah Ku. He told himself he was merely here to witness in person the end of a moth flying into flame — to wait for that gate separating life from death to open, to watch the surviving young people file past him one by one, to confirm that among all those unfamiliar faces he would never find a certain child…

When that moment came, the karmic entanglement would at last be finished.

At worst, he would pour a few bowls of clear wine before the cinnabar plum as a modest offering to mourn those eight years that had once passed.

He told himself he merely wanted a proper ending to what had had a proper beginning.

Xue Duxing was still speaking to him in a low voice — something about a thorny situation that had arisen with this cohort — but Yun Guyan responded with absent murmurs, letting it go in one ear and out the other. In the end it fell to Wen Huan to step forward with a pained smile and smooth things over.

Xue Duxing caught the eye signal from the attendant and, reading that the Sect Leader’s mind was elsewhere, finally held his tongue for the time being.

The hour arrived. Someone sprinkled ceremonial water and hung up the Candle Dragon banner. At once the great banner snapped and rippled in the air, and the golden-red candle dragon design blazed brilliantly in the sunlight rising above the peaks.

Deputy Gate Master Dan Yi burned incense, shook back his sleeves, and called out in a carrying voice, “Open the gate—”

That iron gate bearing the ghost’s visage slowly, ponderous opened at last, its low rumbling boom like rolling thunder.

Gradually, shadowy figures began to emerge from the far end of the long underground staircase.

The first Yin Ghost walked out through the gate, and behind him followed more black-clad figures. These were the newly forged Yin Ghosts, their order determined by their performance rankings within Ghost Gate; the Zhuhuo Guards were to follow after the Yin Ghosts.

Though the Sect Leader had repeated to himself a thousand times to harbor no hope whatsoever, when it came to this moment Yun Guyan still could not help narrowing his eyes to look carefully.

The clear sunlight reflected off the snow, tracing the slender silhouette of the first figure stepping from darkness into light.

The snow crunched softly underfoot.

The young Yin Ghost seemed unaccustomed to the long-unfamiliar sunlight. He frowned tightly and turned his head slightly aside, long lashes falling together at the corners of his eyes against that expanse of pale skin — like a wolf-hair brush dipped in ink sweeping fiercely across white xuan paper.

At that instant, Yun Guyan lost his composure and lurched abruptly to his feet.

The Sect Leader could not believe his own eyes. By the time his wits returned he had already stridden quickly forward several paces. Wen Huan very nearly cried out aloud.

…That first-ranking Yin Ghost was clad in black robes and black armor, his long hair gathered high and falling to the middle of his back. He walked over a thin layer of snow, the soft crunch of each step steady and unhurried as he emerged from the depths of the darkness.

His long slender lashes were slightly downcast. His pale lips were lightly pressed together. The tips of his elegant brows were unconsciously drawn taut. His features were white and drawn to the extreme — and yet he remained handsome in a way that seemed ill-suited to a man trained as a death warrior.

Light poured down before him; cinnabar plum bloomed in wild profusion.

Behind him lay the iron gate still steeped in blood and carnage, and two hundred and eight Yin Ghosts together with five hundred and twelve Zhuhuo Guards followed in a long dark line, their footsteps falling in perfect unison.

He was the first person to walk out of Ghost Gate.

He was first — the Ghost Head, the strongest Yin Ghost of this cycle of five years.

Yun Guyan could no longer conceal the shock on his face. His deep, fathomless gaze swept over the young Yin Ghost walking toward him again and again.

It truly was that child. It was Ah Ku. Five full years had passed, and his fully matured features had shed the rawness of youth, replaced now by an imperceptibly keen and commanding severity.

Yet Ah Ku — Guan Wujue — how had he come to be so sickly, so gaunt, so dark and withdrawn? That little medicine person of former days had burned like fire, quick-witted and lively, free-spirited and unrestrained, every raised brow and crooked smile alight with brilliance. Yet this Yin Ghost before him now was like a blade forged of cold iron: sharp, icy, and utterly suffused with the air of death.

And how could he possibly be the Ghost Head — how was that conceivable?!

Yun Guyan’s expression shifted through layers of complexity. He stood motionless.

The Ghost Head of this cohort looked straight ahead and slowly drew level with the Sect Leader, then passed him. Guan Wujue did not look at Yun Guyan. This pale Yin Ghost merely gazed quietly at the incense altar not far off, and walked his path without a trace of emotion on his face.

Yun Guyan spun sharply around and roared, “Halt! Get yourself over here!”

Guan Wujue’s steps faltered slightly. He turned back, dropped to his knees before the Sect Leader of Zhuyin Sect, and bowed his head in cold, expressionless deference. His low, icy voice carried not a ripple of feeling: “Yes. This subordinate pays respects to the Sect Leader. What are the Sect Leader’s orders?”

Yun Guyan was struck by a sudden daze.

He did not know why, but he was abruptly reminded of something.

It seemed like something from a very, very long time ago.

A beautiful child in pale blue robes had stood at the foot of Yangxin Hall, mischief in his heart as he mimicked Liu’er’s tone of voice and called out to him, laughing, “Father.” Liu’er had given a soft laugh beside him, his gaze soft as a pool of still water.

He did not know why he should think of such a thing at a moment like this. Yet the image of that child rose unbidden in his mind at precisely this instant.

And immediately after, he knew that child was truly gone — perhaps burned to death together with the peach grove wooden house, perhaps frozen to death before the plum tree in the snow — at any rate… simply gone.

Dan Yi was standing in for the Gate Master and presiding over the oath ceremony for the new Yin Ghosts and Zhuhuo Guards. Xue Duxing walked to stand behind Yun Guyan, pointed to the kneeling Guan Wujue with a grave expression, and began to speak, “This ghost is this year’s Ghost Head, Sect Leader. The difficulty is that at present he…”

At this point Xue Duxing’s tone took on an unusual note of hesitation. “Though he is the Ghost Head, he is a broken ghost. Such a strange thing has never before occurred within Ghost Gate.”

Wen Huan said in alarm, “A broken ghost?! He — what is wrong with him?”

A broken ghost, as the term implied literally, was a Yin Ghost with bodily impairment — a half-crippled thing of little use. Such ghosts would first be marked with a distinctive brand, then await dispatch by Ghost Gate as expendable sacrifices to be sent to their deaths, to pass the rest of their days in such a manner.

Xue Duxing shook his head and sighed. “This ghost’s five senses are intact. His four limbs are whole. His mind is clear — apart from that, there is nothing that is not wrong with him.”

“His foundational constitution has suffered excessive damage. His five viscera and six bowels are ridden throughout with hidden injuries of every kind. Scarcely a bone in his body has not been broken at some point. Several of his meridians are also damaged. Beyond that, he suffers from chronic deficiency of qi and blood, with accumulated chronic ailments that could carry him off any day. More troublesome still is that his heart meridian seems to…”

“Enough!”

Yun Guyan cut him off with a sharp bark. He turned, his gaze so dark and vicious it could kill, his knuckles cracking as his fingers clenched. “What do you mean by this, Elder Xue — a sickly wretch like this is the Ghost Head of your cohort?!”

Xue Duxing half-knelt in obeisance. With no regard for the fact that Guan Wujue was also kneeling nearby, he opened his mouth and reported in measured, dispassionate tones. “The Sect Leader may not be aware… if he had not been so set on contending for Ghost Head, he would not have ended up in this state. He would not, at least, have become so gravely ill.”

Yun Guyan and Wen Huan understood at once.

— Guan Wujue had wanted to choose his own master.

By Ghost Gate’s rules, only the top-ranked Yin Ghosts of each cohort were eligible to be bound by contract as a master’s shadow. The Ghost Head moreover enjoyed a special privilege — he could select whichever master he wished to serve, from the Sect Leader down to any high-ranking member of the Sect; he was free to follow whomever he chose.

The Leng Pei of years past had been the Ghost Head of his own cohort, and had chosen to follow Yun Guyan when the latter was still the Young Sect Leader. Yun Guyan had then contracted him as his shadow death-warrior, and that was how this pair of master and servant had walked side by side to this day.

As for whom Guan Wujue wished to follow — that went without saying.

Not far away came the voices of the Yin Ghosts and Zhuhuo Guards taking their oaths. Together they knelt before the incense altar and the dragon banner, knocking their heads to the ground, biting their fingertips to swear in blood.

Xue Duxing looked at Guan Wujue for a long moment. He knew better than anyone how Guan Wujue had climbed from that rank of one thousand nine hundred and ninety all the way to the seat of Ghost Head. The process had been a thing of such wretched pain that even he, who prided himself on being hard-hearted, could not bear to revisit it.

Yet Xue Duxing had duties that admitted no room for private pity, and so he could only report honestly to Yun Guyan:

“This person’s intent is to serve Young Sect Leader Changliu. However… though he has won the rank of Ghost Head, Ghost Gate will absolutely never allow a broken ghost to serve as the Young Sect Leader’s shadow.”

“Even if he were willing to forgo the shadow bond and serve only as an ordinary Yin Ghost covertly protecting the Young Sect Leader — with his broken ghost’s constitution, he would not even be qualified for that.”

“…”

Guan Wujue remained kneeling in the snow with cold composure, his head bowed. He appeared to feel no grief, and no despair — or perhaps, from the moment he was first reduced to a broken ghost, he had already spent every last measure of grief and despair he possessed.

From the age of fifteen to twenty, the finest years of his youth consumed within Ghost Gate — all of it traded for this single outcome. Yun Guyan found it absurd beyond measure when he thought of it. He pointed at Guan Wujue and asked Xue Duxing, “Tell me plainly: how long can this Yin Ghost live?”

Xue Duxing considered briefly. “With careful use, approximately half a year. If used only as an ordinary broken ghost… perhaps one or two assignments.”

Wen Huan asked, “What if he is sent to Medicine Gate to be properly nursed and tended?”

“That…”

The question gave Xue Duxing pause — the word “nursed” was one that made him blink. Yin Ghosts were death-warriors who fought for their lives; such treatment would be a luxury far beyond extravagant for any of them.

The Gate Master thought it over before answering, “I imagine he could manage to eke out another year or two. But it would be entirely too much trouble for what it’s worth.”

Wen Huan fell silent with a sigh, and quietly turned his eyes to Yun Guyan. He knew that the final word over this person’s life and death still rested with the Sect Leader.

“Forget it.” Yun Guyan waved a weary hand. “When the Young Sect Leader emerges safely from Wuze Realm, have him come to Ghost Gate to decide for himself.”

“This lord… is washing his hands of it.”

…..

Two days later, Wuze Realm opened.

Zhuyin Sect’s Young Sect Leader Yun Changliu emerged from Wuze Realm.

Every one of the ten barrier formations within Wuze Realm had been activated and then broken by Yun Changliu. Yun Guyan was overjoyed, and immediately personally conferred the Candle Dragon Great Seal upon him. That same day, with no warning of any kind, he abruptly announced his abdication, passing the position of Zhuyin Sect Leader to his eldest son Yun Changliu.

And so the matter of Zhuyin Sect’s succession — which the jianghu had worried over and speculated about for so long — was completed just like that, simply and offhandedly, as casually as children playing house.