The Threads of the Siming

Standing in the chaotic bedchamber, Lü Xiucai stared dumbfounded at the scene before him. He never imagined that this blind man would simply—just like that—kill Kui Ye and his men. All of them.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a righteous ascetic who punishes evil and rewards good? How can he kill good people too? This isn’t like the stories the old coot used to tell!”

Just then, Blind Chen suddenly turned his head toward Lü Xiucai. Though the man was blind, the very gesture made cold sweat erupt all over Xiucai’s body.

“Oh my, there’s still one left in the room?” Blind Chen said, raising his mirror toward Xiucai.

Clatter! Xiucai pissed himself on the spot. Trembling, he thrust the copper coins high above his head and screamed with all the strength he had: “Don’t kill me! My master is Li Huowang!”

At these words, Blind Chen stopped at once.

Latching onto the lifeline, Xiucai begged desperately, “Senior, you know my master, right? Spare me for his sake! I really don’t know those men outside!”

Blind Chen walked over and plucked the copper coins from his hand one by one. “What Li Huowang—dog Huowang—I don’t know him. But these five copper coins aren’t bad. Got a bit of spirit to them. They’ll do as your life ransom.”

He weighed the old coins in his palm, then turned and left with his white banner.

For a long time after Blind Chen had gone, a gust of wind blew through. Lü Xiucai shuddered and snapped back to his senses.

He stared at the large pool of flesh and blood outside the window as if waking from a dream. Kui Ye—so powerful in his eyes just moments ago—had died worthlessly, not even fit to be an ant in front of that blind man.

That act shattered Xiucai’s smug complacency into pieces.

It was different from his master Li Huowang. Li Huowang was cold and somewhat unhinged, but he never killed wantonly—like the righteous men from the old man’s tales. But Blind Chen was different. If he wanted to, he could take Xiucai’s life at any moment!

At this thought, a wave of terror flooded Xiucai’s heart, making his body tremble uncontrollably. If it hadn’t been for those five copper coins—if he hadn’t been able to buy his life—he would have ended up just like Kui Ye and the rest.

But after the fear, a fierce unwillingness surged from his chest. Why? Why am I worthless in the eyes of others? He wanted to become that, too!

What he hadn’t learned from Li Huowang, he learned from this blind man. Eating well, drinking well, playing with women—that was nothing! Real skill was becoming as powerful as that blind man!

The thought of holding everyone’s life in his hands made Xiucai’s body shake with excitement.

“I… I have to go back and find Master! I’ll beg him to teach me the divine arts!!” Clenching his fists, gritting his teeth, he vaulted over the wall and charged outside.

—

“Ah, let me test you, shall I?” Zhuge Yuan’s pleasant voice drifted from inside the carriage. “Who was it that founded the Great Qi? I daresay you don’t know. I’ll tell you: when the Black Heavenly Calamity fell, it was General Qi Lu who led his people across the seas to this land.”

“Back then, this place was all wilderness—countless small Dao states and Buddhist kingdoms, a complete mess. General Qi Lu campaigned north and south, and finally, in his ninety-fifth year, he established the Great Qi’s royal city. His grandson Qi Heng unified the realm under one rule. The Supervisory Heavenly Office was founded by him, too.”

“Arf…” Mantou, lying atop the Black Tai Sui, tilted his head at the clean-faced scholar before him. Being a dog, he had no idea what the man was talking about.

The entire carriage—save for the massive bulk of the Black Tai Sui—was crammed with Zhuge Yuan’s books and scrolls. He didn’t seem to mind, sitting in the middle of the pile, waxing eloquent to the dog.

Mantou yawned and was about to get up when he spotted the strip of dried meat pinched between the scholar’s fingers. He immediately sat back down, tongue hanging out, listening attentively.

Li Huowang, driving the horses, listened to the voice inside and let out a resigned sigh. Of course, Zhuge Yuan hadn’t lost his mind and taken to teaching history to a dog. He just knew Li Huowang wasn’t willing to listen, so he was using the pretense of lecturing the dog to speak to him instead.

For some reason, Zhuge Yuan was always trying to teach him the history of Great Qi. When he wasn’t on history, he was eagerly trying to pass on his calligraphy skills, saying Li Huowang’s crude handwriting was physically painful to look at.

Zhuge Yuan really loved being a teacher. And his endless chatter was somehow at odds with his unfathomable power.

The carriage wheels rolled slowly. Gradually, a small stall appeared by the dirt road, white smoke curling upward—it seemed to be selling food.

“Brother Li, why not stop? We’ve been eating dry rations for days. A change of pace would do us good.” Zhuge Yuan pulled back the curtain, a puzzled look on his face.

Li Huowang’s grip on the reins tightened as he stared at the diners slurping noodles and the old women serving them. “Not safe. These people could be Zuowandao. They might have set a trap for us.”

The Zuowandao had a bone-deep hatred for Zhuge Yuan now. They would slip in through any crack to deal with him.

“Setting a trap with a noodle stall and poison? That’s far too petty. The Zuowandao wouldn’t do something so crude.”

“Besides, Brother Li, aren’t you trying to find the North Wind Zuowandao? If you’re this wary, how will we ever locate them?”

Li Huowang froze. Right—it wasn’t that the Zuowandao was trying to trick him. He was the one trying to find them.

He pulled the reins, and the carriage stopped. Li Huowang, Zhuge Yuan, and Mantou got down and walked toward the stall.

“Young sirs, want some noodles? Our fish soup noodles are delicious! Whole fish—scales, bones, flesh, all boiled into the broth.” A kindly-faced old woman came to their table and explained.

“Three bowls,” Li Huowang said, staring at the old woman’s face as he enunciated each word.

Seeming startled by his intensity, the woman scurried back in a bit of a fluster, muttering quietly with the old man cooking the noodles.

“Brother Li, calm yourself. Eat without worry—they really aren’t Zuowandao.” Zhuge Yuan was wiping his chopsticks with a white cloth.

“Oh? Brother Zhuge, do you have some way of telling real from false?” Li Huowang asked, genuinely curious at Zhuge Yuan’s utter lack of concern.

“Heh, you could say that. Since the Zuowandao all cultivate falsehood, then I, as a Heart-Embedded, would have seen the threads on them if I had been that close.”

“Threads? What threads?” Li Huowang listened with intense focus. This could be key to dealing with the Zuowandao later.

“The threads connecting them to their Siming.”

Zhuge Yuan’s words made Li Huowang pause. This was different from what he had understood before. “They have a Siming, too?”

“Naturally. Without a Siming, where would their divine abilities come from?”