Beyond the Pass

Li Huowang? Are you alright?” Lingmiao asked, instinctively tightening her grip on his hand as she noticed the shift in his expression.

Li Huowang shook his head with a smile. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking—we’re about to cross the pass, and I’m a little worried about what’s on the other side. Come on, let’s go help the Lü family take down their stage. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can move.”

He said the words, but his eyes were cold. His temper was starting to feel more and more like Danyangzi’s.

That realization sent a chill down his spine. When he connected it to the fact that others saw Danyangzi when they looked at him, the old suspicion was no longer just a suspicion. It was becoming real.

If it were only his temperament, that would be bad enough. But Li Huowang was more afraid that, as time went on, he would become Danyangzi completely.

If that’s the case, then everything that came before makes sense. Danyangzi wasn’t protecting me—he was protecting himself.

The thought made Li Huowang’s heart twist with frustration. If there was anyone in this world he hated most, it was that mad old man Danyangzi, without question.

He did not want to become Danyangzi. If that was his fate, he would rather die.

For a moment, a rash impulse surged through him: turn around right now, go back to Zhengde Temple, and—no matter what hardship lay ahead—let those monks hold the Great Deliverance Feast and settle the Danyangzi problem once and for all.

But that was just a thought. If they hadn’t torn the veil of peace before, there was still a chance for negotiation. But after those seven flesh buddhas had died by his hand, he was certain those monks would try to kill him the moment they laid eyes on him.

Those weren’t real monks who chanted sutras and ate vegetarian. They were capable of anything.

Still, going by what the abbot had said, there were other sects besides Zhengde Temple. He had to find a way to work with them now. If Zhengde Temple could do it, other sects should be able to as well.

Li Huowang walked to the donkey cart, unfolded the map, and studied it closely.

He had avoided contact with those people until now, mostly because Zhengde Temple had set a terrible precedent.

But he couldn’t avoid it anymore. Since Zhengde Temple had a way to get rid of Danyangzi, other sects probably did, too.

He didn’t know what they wanted yet, but looking at how they acted, it was clear they coveted something of his.

Is it the Heavenly Scripture Danyangzi left behind? Li Huowang wondered.

If he didn’t want to become Danyangzi, he had to find a way to deal with them.

If it comes to it, I’ll trade them that so-called Heavenly Scripture. Li Huowang quietly steeled himself for that decision. It was the only bargaining chip he had.

With a knot of anxiety in his chest, they arrived at the border town at last.

The small town was crowded with merchants coming and going, along with people dressed in different styles—all of them traders entering the pass to do business.

Li Huowang looked at the distant checkpoint and turned to Lü Zhuangyuan. “Troupe Leader Lü, looks like this is where we part ways.”

Lü Zhuangyuan clasped his hands in a respectful salute, a complicated look in his eyes. “Little Daoist, it’s been a hard journey. If you hadn’t been with us, we would have suffered a lot more along the way.”

The Lü Family Troupe could not cross the pass. Here at the checkpoint, they would have to take another road and head back to their village.

They would rest at home and then start the whole cycle over again. That was the fate of a small traveling troupe like theirs. The only way to escape this life of sleeping in the open was to buy a theater and settle down for good.

“Safe travels. I don’t know exactly what you’re going to do, little Daoist, but I wish you success! Here—some salted duck eggs we cured ourselves. Take them for the road.”

Lü Xiucai hugged the clay jar of duck eggs and put it on the donkey cart, reluctant to let it go.

“I’ll take that blessing. If we ever get the chance, we’ll come see your troupe perform again. And I’m not just saying that—after watching you this whole time, I’ve gotten hooked.”

After they said their goodbyes, the donkey cart, loaded with newly replenished supplies, slowly approached the checkpoint.

Lü Zhuangyuan watched their backs disappear. He took a long drag from his pipe and then tapped his youngest son, who was still staring wistfully, on the head.

“Stop thinking about that pale-skinned girl. Our family’s too small to handle that kind of trouble. Go home, I’ll have a matchmaker find you a proper wife.”

“Dad, what are you talking about? I don’t— I really don’t!” Lü Xiucai stammered in desperate denial as the horse turned and headed toward the busy main street.

“Dad, why would someone as stingy as you give him a whole jar of salted duck eggs?” Lü Juren asked, holding his daughter, his tone curious.

“What kind of nonsense is that? Don’t you go thinking your father’s a miser. You remember this: when it’s time to be stingy, be stingy. When it’s time to be generous, don’t hold back. That little Daoist isn’t an ordinary person. If we get on good terms with him, that means the Lü family has a connection worth keeping.”

After winding their way through the pass, they finally reached the other side. The earthen road was still lined with woods, but Li Huowang could sense a difference.

They weren’t the only ones on the road. There were plenty of other horse-drawn carts and people carrying shoulder poles.

It was easy to tell who was who by the style of their clothes. Inside the pass, people wore left-lapel clothing. Outside the pass, in Siqi, they wore right-lapel.

Li Huowang thought for a moment, then opened Lü Zhuangyuan’s jar. It was packed full of salted duck eggs.

Gouwa leaned in, surprised. “In times like these, both duck eggs and salt are expensive. That old man Lü Zhuangyuan sure was generous this time.”

Li Huowang put the lid back on his opinion of that stubborn old man improved somewhat.

“Forget the small talk. Any of you have family in the Siqi State? Get ready to head home.”

They all exchanged glances. The young woman covered from head to toe in black hair—Xiaoman—raised her hand, her voice trembling slightly. “My family is in Siqi.”

The air went still. Everyone knew the story between her and her parents. They all knew what she was planning to do when she returned home.

“Sister Xiaoman, maybe you should…” Bai Lingmiao started to persuade her, her expression pained, but Li Huowang cut her off.

“Good. Then you should be familiar with this place. Tell me: what kind of a place is Siqi? Are there any big sects like Zhengde Temple here?”

Xiaoman took a deep breath, her face hidden beneath the wide brim of her black bamboo hat. “I don’t know. I lived here, but for over ten years, I never left my village once. The only time I ever saw anything like that was when I was nine. I saw a spirit-dancer performing at the edge of the village.”

“A spirit-dancer…” The word made his stomach tighten. The Deity of Joy had left a scar too deep for him to ignore. His voice cracked as he pressed on. “Does that spirit-dancer have some kind of… collective place where they live?”

“No. I’ve heard spirit-dancers all live in their own homes. They make offerings to their spirit immortals right there.”

“Spirit immortals?” His mind flickered through all the strange and terrible things this world had shown him. “Do they have names?”

“The Red, Yellow, White, Willow, and Sorrow. I’ve heard those are the five kinds of spirit immortals, but I don’t know what each one actually is.”