Aliang once jested that Li Huai, a scamp of tender years, was a viper in the nest and a craven abroad. This, it seemed, Li Huai inherited from his mother. For even before she laid eyes upon the archway of Shanya Academy, nestled high upon Donghua Mountain, the woman’s courage began to ebb, her boasts of invincibility, so boldly proclaimed in their small town, now but a fading echo.

Yet her husband remained steadfast, a mountain stream ever flowing. And their daughter, Li Liu, was no less composed. Accustomed to asking directions with a courteous bow and a “thank you,” she, who hailed from the Great Sui capital, whose beauty and grace were legendary throughout the northern reaches of Baopingzhou, still bestowed the greatest kindness upon all she met, despite her reputation for holding herself above the common folk.

Though Shanya Academy, once a jewel of Dali, had been stripped of its rank among the seventy-two Confucian institutions, its vitality sorely diminished, a lean camel remained larger than a horse. In the hearts of countless scholars across the Sui Dynasty, it remained a hallowed ground.

And the Academy, ever mindful of outward appearances, found no fault in the travelers’ humble attire and rural bearing. Upon learning they were kin of a student, they were greeted with utmost courtesy and consideration. A guide was provided to lead them through the hallowed halls, to the chambers set aside for visiting kin. From there, they were directed to the main hall, to seek Li Huai. Upon learning he was absent from his lessons, they were led to the school of Lin Shouyi, where, as expected, they found the boy engrossed in fiddling with twigs upon the ground.

Their ease of passage was no accident. Li Huai and his fellow students were direct disciples of the venerable Qi Saint, the Academy’s former master. In the wake of recent upheavals, their lives, their habits, and their very characters were well-known throughout the hallowed halls.

Most of the masters, those without a vested interest in the Academy’s politics, treated the matter with a certain detachment, neither favoring nor disliking the boy. They were more inclined to turn a blind eye to the squabbles of the world and dedicate themselves to the teachings of the sages.

At the sound of his name, Li Huai lifted his gaze, and a trio of figures, familiar yet surreal, swam into view. He blinked, believing it a dream. Dropping the twigs, he leaped to his feet, bowing first to the smiling master as a gesture of gratitude, then turning to his parents and sister, head cocked, eyes brimming with unshed tears, utterly speechless.

A pang of longing for absent kin is one thing, easily dismissed. But the sudden, tangible presence of family brought forth a flood of emotions, magnifying the sense of absence into an unbearable weight.

Yet Li Huai was a seasoned traveler, a veteran of countless mountains and rivers alongside Chen Ping’an, from the waning days of spring to the chill of early winter. He knew the art of restraining his emotions. He was no longer the boy of his hometown. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he stammered, “Father, Li Liu, what brings you here?!”

With a warm smile, the master offered his farewell, departing to allow for the family’s reunion.

As soon as the learned instructor was out of earshot, the woman rushed forward, enveloping Li Huai in a tearful embrace. “My Huaizi, so thin and dark! Oh, my heart aches. Blame your father, this hulking ox! He took it into his head that you were starving, that you were sick and alone. So, the three of us decided, in a single breath, that we must come and see you…”

The short, powerfully built man, a piece of dark iron sculpted by the elements, stood awkwardly, a hillock of a pack slung upon his back, scratching his head.
“I merely spoke a single phrase,” Gengu stammered, “that I knew not if Huaizi would find proper victuals within the Dasui Academy’s walls.”

At this, his wife and daughter, Luan and Liu, had dissolved into tears. No amount of soothing could staunch the flow. Eventually, the woman, her face flushed with shame and ire, wheeled upon Gengu, her eyes flashing like storm-ridden skies.

“Gengu, you serpent’s tongue! If you hold no faith in Huaizi’s path, then remain you at the mountain’s foot!”

The man offered only a sheepish grin, remaining rooted to the spot, as fear held him fast.

Luan, regaining some composure, knelt beside her son, Li Huai, stroking his brow and tracing the fragile lines of his arms. “Why so thin, my dove?” she whispered, her voice thick with worry. “Have you not found ample food and restful sleep?”

Li Huai puffed out his chest, a spark of defiance igniting in his eyes. “Eat well? Sleep well? Mother, I’ve never been better! To reach Dasui Academy, I walked alongside Chen Ping’an and others, relying solely on my own two feet! A journey of a thousand leagues it was, from our humble village! First, Qidun Mountain, then Hongzhu Town, across the Xiuhua River, through Yefu Pass on the border, and finally traversing the lands of Huangtingguo… See!”

He took a step back, proudly lifting his foot. “These straw sandals, woven for me by Chen Ping’an himself! Strong and comfortable beyond measure! I yearn to learn his craft, but he refuses to yield his secrets! Mother, guess how many pairs of sandals I wore through!”

The question hung in the air like a poisoned dart. Luan, unable to bear the thought of her son’s arduous journey, burst into a fresh torrent of tears. Liu, her sister, quickly knelt, offering a comforting hand.

Panic gripped Li Huai. What had he said to cause such sorrow? A mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Mother,” he declared, his voice ringing with forced cheer, “come inside! I have a marvel to unveil!”

Within the humble dwelling of Lin Shouyi, Li Huai placed a small, green bamboo bookcase upon the table. He then struck a pose, mimicking Li Baoping, his arms crossed upon his chest. He glanced at his sister, then, affecting the air of the pale-faced boy with a mole, he declared with theatrical pride, “Well? What say you to my tiny library? Does it not fill you with envy?”

Unwilling to relinquish the stage, Li Huai hoisted the bookcase, its delicate structure swaying precariously. He began to pace about the table, a small, sandal-clad figure burdened by his treasure. Liu, a wellspring of concern and amusement, gently relieved him of the burden, placing it safely back upon the table. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and a sweet smile, like the awakening of spring, blossomed upon her soft, oval face.

Gengu, emboldened by the shift in mood, cautiously inquired, “You were not… tormented upon your journey, were you?”

Li Huai shook his head, beaming. “Not at all!”

A fresh wave of anger washed over Luan. “And what if my son *was* tormented?” she demanded. “Like you, powerless when he was wronged in our village? What defense could you offer beyond my scolding?”

Gengu shrank back, his voice barely a whisper. “That was in our village… where our neighbors, for the most part, are kind and loath to disrupt the peace. In the end, the burden always fell upon you, my wife.”

Luan slammed her fist upon the table. “Dare you retort? Li Er, do you plot rebellion? Or perhaps, emboldened by your sojourn beyond our yard, you dream of abandoning your family for a younger, fairer bride?”

Gengu stammered, “How could such a thought…”

Luan’s fury reached its peak. “You harbor the desire, but lack the courage! I know full well that other women scorn you! Remember that long-legged hussy, draped in gaudy finery? A woman of questionable character, flaunting herself before you! Did you not steal a glance? Disgraceful! Those skinny girls with not two ounces of flesh upon their chests – do they imagine they can compete with me?”

Gengu, silenced and defeated, slumped to the ground, a sigh escaping his lips.

Meanwhile, hidden amongst the mountain peaks, a creature of ancient power stirred. The old witch of the mountain, though appearing youthful and fair, had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, her age a staggering seven or eight centuries. She waited, and watched.
She was spoken of in hushed whispers throughout the Nine Realms, a demon sorceress of untold power. Were her true nature not understood, were the gravity of the situation not impressed upon her, she might succumb to a dark hunger, turning to the flesh and bone of innocents to sate her appetite. “If not for your presence,” he muttered under his breath, “I would end her with a single blow!”

But how could he burden his wife with such grim pronouncements, such anxieties that tasted of smoke and shadow?

The man, Li Er, remained hunched low, his worn travel pack forgotten, a small, dusty mountain at his back.

“Are you addled, man?” his wife roared, the sound echoing in the small dwelling. “Unload your wares! Are you saving the treasures for some painted vixen in a distant town? Give them to your son!”

Li Er scrambled to his feet, his hands moving with frantic speed. He heaved open the pack, and a small mountain range of provisions, homespun clothes, and worn books blossomed upon the humble table.

Li Huai, their son, raised a curious brow. “Are we suddenly blessed with such wealth, Father?”

The woman’s face softened with a rare smile. “Your father has the fortune of a fool. During our journey, he stumbled upon rare herbs, which fetched a king’s ransom at market. Why, I saw gold for the first time! Gold, shimmering like a dragon’s hoard! I have tucked away a bit for your future, lad, for a fine wedding and a good start.”

Li Huai glanced at his sister, Li Liu, who sat quietly, her eyes downcast. “Let it be her dowry first, Mother. My time is not yet upon me.”

His mother scoffed, “The water given to a married daughter is spilled, never to return. Why waste it on her?”

Li Liu remained unperturbed. She possessed the gentle spirit of her father, a stark contrast to the fiery temperament of Li Huai. Their family was a tapestry of contrasts, each thread essential to its strength. The son mirrored the mother, the daughter the father, a curious and endearing balance.

Li Huai shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Mother, if you persist in this manner, even a good marriage will be soured by your harsh words. You are fortunate to have found a soul as patient as Father, who yields to your every whim. Were it otherwise, had you wed one of our uncles – men quick to temper and slow to reason – your own family would be of little help were you wronged. You can anger folk with your sharp words, and make them sick, Mom am I wrong?”

His words struck true, and the woman was momentarily silenced.

A secret smile played upon Li Liu’s lips.

The woman reached out and gently flicked her son’s forehead. “You have grown too clever, boy! Will you never defend your mother?”

Li Huai chuckled, turning to his sister with a mischievous grin. “Li Liu, this journey has blessed me with knowledge of many potential husbands…”

Li Liu blinked, her long, dark lashes fluttering in a gesture of innocent bewilderment.

The woman swatted her son lightly. “Hold your tongue! Your sister will have but one husband! Though,” she added, her voice softening, “should her marriage turn sour, she will return home, and seek another. But not as many as the man has woman.”

Li Huai’s smile deepened. “Li Liu, I now dwell under the roof of Lin Shouyi.”

Confusion clouded the woman’s brow. “Lin Shouyi? The son of the magistrate?”

Li Huai nodded. “The very same. He who once vied for my sister’s attention with Dong Shuijing. He has risen in station and treats me with great kindness. I once judged him harshly, finding him cold and impatient. But I was wrong. He is not so virtuous as Chen Ping’an, who may be my brother-in-law one day.”

Li Liu remained silent.

The woman’s face lit up. “Chen Ping’an? Who is this Chen Ping’an? Is he wealthy? Is he the brother-in-law you have chosen for your sister?”

Li Huai shook his head. “Chen Ping’an is one of my closest friends, like Aliang. He is of the right age, but Li Liu is not worthy of him.”

Another playful slap landed on his shoulder. “What nonsense is this?”
“Li Liu unworthy of him? By the spirits, who dares speak such slander of my daughter?” The woman’s voice crackled like dry kindling. “What fault do you find in your sister? A fleeting glimpse of beauty you call it? She has a spirit that burns bright! A good wife, devoted to hearth and home, would be a blessing to any man, not a burden!”

Across the small, rough-hewn table, the man’s face was a mask of bemusement.

Li Huai, ever the blunt one, declared, “I speak only the truth! Look at my sister – comely enough, I suppose. And the family’s name, well… let’s just say a cloud hangs over that lineage.” He trailed off, a theatrical sigh escaping his lips. “But who are we to judge the fortunes laid upon us by the heavens? Our coin purse is light, it’s true. But Chen Ping’an…” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I recall sharing a…rustic moment with him on the mountain. We spoke freely then, and Chen Ping’an, whose own kin left this world too soon, confessed he was drawn to her virtues. I thought it mere jesting at the time! But as we journeyed onward, his words proved true as the dawn. Truth be told, I fear the glooms that lurk in the night, so I drag Chen Ping’an along, and he never chastises my fear! My sister is not worthy of such a soul!”

The woman scoffed, “So high and mighty, you who shares a latrine with him!”

Li Huai began counting on his fingers, lost in memory. “And more! He crafted me little boxes for my books, wove me sandals of straw, labored at the cooking fire and laundry trough, and even helped tend our stubborn donkey. When winter’s icy grip threatened to steal my warmth, he braved the treacherous mountain paths under the dead of night, seeking herbs to mend me! He spent his meager coins on books for me, gifted me a jade hairpin, taught me the dance of fists, and urged me to honor my parents, to not scold, but to help, to shield, to fight those who would do harm. It is a tale I could recount for an age! To have him as my brother-in-law… it is a dream I dare not wake from!”

Astonishment painted itself upon the woman’s features.

The man gazed at his son, who seemed ablaze with a fervor he scarcely recognized. A quiet happiness swelled within his breast.

The woman produced a pair of finely crafted shoes, the stitches impossibly small. “These your sister sewed for you. They will be softer on your feet than those rough sandals.”

Li Huai sighed, the very picture of woe.

“What troubles you now?” his mother inquired, her brow furrowed.

Li Huai fixed his mother with mournful eyes. “Why only one pair? I’d sooner give them to Chen Ping’an. Then, when I call him ‘brother-in-law,’ I might even call him ‘uncle’!”

With a playful twist of his ear, the woman retorted, “Such ingratitude! How can you bury your sister so? You try my patience!”

A smile bloomed upon the daughter’s face, her eyes crescent moons.

Deep within her heart, she cherished this imp of a brother. She knew that beneath his playful barbs, Li Huai was fiercely protective of her, a truth hidden from the eyes of outsiders.

“Your daughter possesses wisdom, and your son is blessed beyond measure.” These were the words spoken by Old Man Yang, the master of his father when he labored in the Yang Family Shop. There was, of course, a less flattering addendum, which the girl conveniently forgot: “And a shrew who berates the heavens and the earth, a curse upon the Li family.”

Footsteps echoed from beyond the doorway.

A lad of striking features, his face both handsome and severe, appeared in the threshold, halting in surprise. A faint blush crept upon his cheeks.

Li Huai, ever the mischief-maker, pointed a finger at his sister and, with a mischievous cackle, proclaimed, “Behold! Li Liu, my sister, who is here to be your wife!”

The woman beamed at Lin Shouyi, a lad of good breeding and education. He hailed from a family of some wealth, and had visited their humble dwelling on occasion. Though quiet of nature,
Lady Li held scholars in high esteem, believing that even a poor family who produced a man of learning held a certain promise. Never would she begrudge a learned man his family’s poverty.

Young Li Huai, ever the jester, clambered onto a bench, pointing a finger at the blushing scholar, Lin Shouyi. “Lin Shouyi, you might as well sit beside my sister. You’ll be family soon enough!”

His mother, with a gentle twist of his ear, chided him. “Don’t speak such nonsense, boy.”

Lin Shouyi, heart pounding, dared not obey the playful invitation. He offered polite greetings to Li Huai’s parents, then settled down across from the maiden, clutching his books like a shield.

While Master Li appreciated the young scholar’s diligence, he confessed a preference for Dong Shuijing, believing him a more fitting companion for his daughter, Li Liu. Within the family’s whispered hierarchy, Li Liu was placed at the bottom, a sweet simple soul. His wife, however, favored Lin Shouyi, a sentiment echoed by Li Huai and begrudgingly acknowledged by Li Er.

The conversation flowed, touching on matters of the academy and the majestic Donghua Mountain. Learning that the Li family intended to linger for a few days, Lin Shouyi shyly offered to guide them on a tour.

Li Huai, ever the teasing brother, suppressed a chuckle. “Aye, practice for being the future son-in-law!” He flicked his sister’s arm playfully and earned a sharp look from his mother.

Donghua Mountain, cloaked in ancient trees and echoing with birdsong, held breathtaking vistas. They walked for nearly an hour, yet had only ascended halfway. After a noon meal, two esteemed gentlemen from the academy sought out Lin Shouyi at his schoolhouse, their demeanor amicable. Lady Li breathed a sigh of relief. She had feared that the sharp-tongued, quick-witted Li Huai, accustomed to the gentle teachings of Qi Jingchun, might bristle under the stern tutelage of these learned men. She knew her son’s temper well and dreaded a clash between youthful arrogance and scholarly authority.

As the family of four conversed with the two gentlemen, Lin Shouyi, respectful and observant, sat quietly by.

Since facing adversity that challenged his very soul, Li Huai had grown considerably calmer and wise.

Li Liu possessed a quiet nature, seemingly immutable across the ages. Her eyes, deep pools of serenity, held a captivating allure. Lin Shouyi could spend an eternity lost in their depths, though he only dared to steal fleeting glances.

Lady Li, more perceptive than her boisterous son, spoke with soft, hesitant tones, a stark contrast to her usual town chatter. This timidity, even more pronounced than her daughter’s, endeared Li Liu to Lin Shouyi. Though uneducated, she often fetched Li Huai from school, treating even Master Qi Jingchun with a natural grace, neither humble nor arrogant. She offered courtesy to all, yet Lin Shouyi felt a paradox: she was close, yet distant; seemingly within reach, yet forever unattainable.

Thus, Lin Shouyi cherished her.

To simply observe her was enough to fill his heart with a serene joy.

He had witnessed countless landscapes, yet without her presence, none could truly be called beautiful.

Master Li, a man of few words and simple gestures, was excessively polite to the gentlemen, eager to serve tea and water. He bowed low when he spoke, appearing even smaller and more humble than he already was. His restlessness surpassed even his wife’s, content only to urge the gentlemen to eat. Yet, alas, the gentlemen themselves, while learned, were decidedly bland.
Within the hallowed halls of the Academy, whispers abounded concerning Li Huai’s standing. Some questioned which amongst the learned masters were ill-suited to guide his path, their teachings falling flat. The Sage’s words echoed in Li Huai’s ears: “One should never tire of savoring choice meats and delicacies.” However, a table laden with food may not tempt all palates. A measured intake reflects refinement, but to starve oneself is folly.

In days past, Li Huai might have shrunk with shame at his father’s humble ways. Yet, a transformation had taken root. Though his father possessed no great station, he had lavished upon Li Huai every kindness within his power. Now, Li Huai found himself unshaken by his father’s actions.

The sage Chen Ping’an, who held no taste for idle gossip regarding himself and Lin Shouyi, had instilled in Li Huai similar wisdoms. Events unfolded, blurring the lines of importance, solidifying understanding in Li Huai’s heart. As Aliang once mused, “A wealthy lord may bestow a thousand silver taels, while Chen Ping’an offers but ten. Which brings greater joy?” To be easily swayed by the lavish gift bespoke immaturity, a lack of perspective. But to dismiss the smaller offering would be sheer ingratitude, a mark of dullness.

Observing his father, bustling about with a guileless grin, a pang of sorrow struck Li Huai. He urged his father to rest.

Initially, the man worried he had been neglecting his duties. But sensing a deeper meaning in his son’s gaze, he yielded with a smile, shifting uneasily. He almost squatted, caught himself, deeming it uncouth in the presence of Li Huai’s esteemed instructors. Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed his hands, still intimidated by his son’s scholarly companions, though less so than before.

The learned gentlemen, their duties calling them, soon departed. The family, accompanied by Lin Shouyi, escorted them to the Academy gates.

Li Huai had lessons awaiting him that afternoon. Yet, his parents’ visit was fleeting. He vowed to dedicate himself tenfold to his studies upon their departure. Books were mere objects, the knowledge within the masters’ minds could not flee. Diligence would surely retrieve what he missed. But his parents’ stay was limited, demanding precious moments together.

His heartfelt words moved the woman to tears. She lashed out playfully at the man, berating him for dragging them so far, leaving their son to face hardships alone.

The man bore her gentle scolding with good humor.

Lin Shouyi, gathering his courage, cautiously suggested to Li Liu that they explore the Academy’s library, boasting of its unrivaled collection within the Great Sui Dynasty.

The girl smiled, shaking her head. She desired only to remain by her brother’s side.

The following afternoon, Li Huai entertained his parents in their temporary quarters, even carrying along his small bookcase. With theatrical flourish, he produced a painted puppet, proclaiming it his most treasured possession. Then, with exaggerated heartache, he offered it to his sister. Li Liu demurred, playing with it briefly before returning it. Li Huai pressed her, “Art thou sure thou dost not desire it?” Li Liu nodded. Li Huai feigned disappointment, declaring she possessed long hair and little wit.

The girl patted her brother’s head affectionately.

Lin Shouyi, feeling like an intruder, sought refuge in the library, but his mind wandered. Eventually, he abandoned the book altogether.
The last sliver of sun bled crimson into the west, and he stood sentinel at the window, a vigil for the dying light. As shadows lengthened, Li Huai declared his need to speak with his father. The woman, sharp as a winter wind, forbade it, muttering about unearthed secrets and long-forgotten betrayals. “He wouldn’t have sought out Li Liu’s kin, or his stepmother, would he?” she hissed. Li Huai, with a knowing glint in his eyes, merely smiled. “Father will never escape the mire he’s in.” The woman, enraged, raised a hand, but froze as two figures, one tall, one small, approached the chamber door. With no other protector in the room, she sank onto the bed, tears tracing silent paths down her face. Though young, the girl was not prone to sentiment, yet even Li Liu felt a pang seeing her mother’s grief.

They were not fools, nor strangers to hardship. Yet Li Huai seemed to have aged years in a single breath. He had always been a dutiful child, though one who shielded unhappiness from sight.

Leaving the woman behind, Li Huai led his father towards a small lake nestled just beyond the door. They walked in silence along the winding path, until Li Huai finally spoke. “Father, this Donghua Mountain… are its peaks like those of your homeland?”

The man smiled, a brief flash of warmth. “Some are taller, some are smaller, some are neither.”

The answer hung in the air, dull as a stone. Li Huai rolled his eyes, then knelt by the lake, tossing a pebble into the still water. “It’s good of you, Father, to be so kind to Mother.”

The man, unused to praise, found himself speechless.

Li Huai’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re good to me, too. I… I was sorry before.”

The man, taken aback, squatted down, his face creased with concern. “A son need never apologize to his father. Such things are unheard of.” He forced a smile, tinged with worry. “Speak like that, lad, and you’ll have your father trembling with unease.”

Li Huai grinned, then turned to face the man who had once been a source of shame in the eyes of his peers. “Father… I am afraid. Should I take after you, or Mother? You dare to walk alone in the mountains, something I could never do. Before, when I was with Chen Ping’an, nothing felt amiss. Staying at home, it seemed natural for everyone to be kind to me. But I know now that the world is not so simple. There is much wickedness beyond these walls. Chen Ping’an, like you, says little, yet overflows with kindness. He would give away all he possessed without a second thought, not for praise, but because he simply desires to do good…”

His voice caught, thick with emotion. “The only time Chen Ping’an ever acted in his own self-interest was when he promised we’d enter the academy together. He even planned to don new clothes, cast aside his straw sandals. But in the end, he vanished, taking only his absence. I miss him dearly.”

The man’s hand, rough and calloused from years of toil, gently rested on the boy’s head. “Grow strong, my son.”

Li Huai batted the hand away playfully. “Nay! I was seven when we left home, and the New Year hasn’t come yet. I am still seven, and that’s that!”

The man placed his hands upon his belly, squatted, and stared into the depths of the lake, lost in thought. Finally, a voice laced with guilt escaped his lips. “I have lived a life devoid of renown, unable to provide for you three, unable to shield you from scorn… unable to give you the joy of learning…”

Li Huai waved his hand dismissively, interrupting the lament. “Father, I speak not of you! I am far too old for such sentiments.”

The child fell silent, his head bowed low. “Father… it pains me to see you bow before the gentry.”

The man, who would sooner face a dragon than admit weakness, reached out and cupped his son’s face, stricken with the knowledge of his child’s burdens.

Li Huai finally rose, a small smile gracing his lips. “Father, take Mother and Sister to visit the Sui…”
“Jing, worry not these past days. Though we cannot afford grand things now, fear not! When my studies bear fruit, and success crowns my efforts, I shall buy you all you desire. Come now, Mother is of a timid heart, and surely frets without us near.”

Li Huai, his face earnest, addressed his father: “Father, you must treat Mother with kindness in the days to come. Though her tongue is sharp, and her words sometimes unkind, you are a man, and can surely bear a little more?”

The man nodded with a vigour that belied his years, rising slowly. “Go on ahead,” he said, “I shall stay here a while, and admire the view.”

Li Huai, with a carefree bound, jogged back the way they had come, his movements a haphazard imitation of a martial stance. He was innocence itself.

Suddenly, the man called out, “Huai’er!”

Li Huai turned, a question in his young eyes. “Father? Did you perhaps need to find a… water closet?”

The man simply gave his son a thumbs up, a silent gesture of approval. “Good boy!”

“Do you still need to mention it?!” The boy’s eyes widened in mock outrage, and he turned to flee.

—

Once Li Huai was gone, the man cracked his knuckles, his gaze sweeping the peaceful glade. “Cui by name,” he said, his voice suddenly deep and resonant, “Step forth!”

From behind a grand, ancient tree, a young man in pristine white robes emerged, his movements fluid and graceful. He offered an apologetic smile. “Mr. Li Er, it is a stroke of good fortune to find you here. Let me clarify at once, I am no longer a National Master of Dali. I am merely Cui Dongshan. And your son, well, he is almost my sworn brother. Pray, restrain your fists.”

The man known as Li Er remained impassive. “Speak your piece! One: do not trifle with the truth. Two: I make no promises I won’t beat you senseless.”

The young man, Cui Dongshan, studied Li Er with a keen eye, taking in the aura of raw power that emanated from him. Here stood the pure martial artist who had nearly felled the vassal king Song Changjing. A complicated mix of emotions played across his face. He sighed, and began to speak.

“Think back to that time, in the Lizhu Cave Heaven, to the earth-shattering battle at the nine realms that brought heaven and earth to tremble. Afterwards, Song Changjing shattered his limitations and entered the legendary Tenth Realm of Martial Arts, becoming only the second true master of that realm in the entire Dongbao Bow Continent. That a man so young should achieve such a feat is… remarkable. Yet, the world wonders, how did Song Changjing, in his forties, manage to break through such a formidable barrier?”

Cui Dongshan paused for emphasis. “It is known throughout the martial world that each breakthrough beyond the seventh realm is a perilous journey, a dance with death itself. Only in the face of utter despair can one hope to transcend. And to sharpen the blade of one’s spirit, one requires a formidable opponent, a powerhouse of equal stature.”

“So, I ask you, why did Song Changjing ascend to the tenth realm, while Li Er, clearly his equal, remained behind? Why did Old Man Yang so readily offer his support to Song Changjing from the very beginning? Surely he knew that a clash between two pure martial artists at the peak of the Ninth Realm would be catastrophic, a scene of utter devastation that none could halt. Given Old Man Yang’s cautious nature, his reluctance to act until success is assured, why would he risk your life, risk alienating the entire Dali Dynasty, simply to force Song Changjing into a breakthrough he may not have been ready for?”

Cui Dongshan fixed Li Er with a piercing gaze. “I have pondered this matter for many moons. Only now, standing before you, sensing the strength of your aura, do I begin to understand.”

“Because,” he finished, “your foundation, Li Er, your mastery of the nine realms, is far more profound, far more solid, than that of Song Changjing!”

“Therefore, you require a greater trial, a more profound crucible, to forge the path to the tenth realm. And once you succeed, your strength will be unmatched. Even with his newfound power, Song Changjing will ultimately fall before Li Er, whose talent and tenacity are nearly unheard of…”
Across the entirety of Dongbao Bow Continent, tales unfolded, and Cui Dongshan, with silver tongue, recounted recent turmoil. Yet, the man before him, a figure carved from ancient stone, betrayed no ripple of emotion.

Cui Dongshan, a wry smile playing on his lips, continued, “The Dragon Throne of Sui rests on a foundation of ages. Tread carefully. No rash acts. Rest assured, I have sated the honor of those innocents, guiding Cai Jingshen, a mere neophyte of the tenth rank of Qi, toward a future paved with tranquility. My watchful gaze shall ensure no shadows darken their path.”

But a shadow of fury flickered in Cui Dongshan’s eyes. “However,” he spat, “the three whelps who shared Li Huai’s hearth, though they offer shallow apologies and return what was stolen, their kin remain shrouded in silence! Is this justice? If righteous fire burns within you, speak to their houses. Let them feel the weight of their sons’ transgressions.”

The man’s gaze, sharp as winter’s wind, fell upon Cui Dongshan.

The youth in white raised his hands in mock surrender, “Lay no blame at my door, Cui Dongshan! If fault there be, seek the National Preceptor, who resides in the gilded cage of the capital. Indeed, it may be he, in concert with Old Man Yang, who beckoned you to Sui. Thus, I suffer more than any! My very soul is splintered, condemned to play endless chess against itself! Am I not wretched? Canst thou, Li Er, bring thyself to harm me?”

Li Er, his patience wearing thin, retorted, “Spare me your lamentations! Your machinations are your own. So long as your webs ensnare not me nor mine, spin them as you will. But know this: my son, flesh of my flesh, has been brought low by the actions of others, so wounded in spirit he dares not speak of it to his own sire!”

With a guttural sound, the man spat upon the earth, the gobbet a contemptuous dismissal of the Sui empire. “A pox upon your house, Da Sui!” he snarled.

Cui Dongshan felt a chill trace its way down his spine, as if touched by an ethereal blade.

For this was Li Er, a warrior forged in the crucible of the Nine Realms, a being who walked the thin veil between realities. His very presence, even in stillness, could weather the onslaught of a common mage’s most potent spells. An Qi trainer would be spent, drained of all reserves, before even scratching his skin.

The man began his ascent toward the mountain’s peak.

The boy in white, dogging his heels, chirped, “Where do you venture?”

The man replied, his voice a low rumble, “To the summit, to survey this land. To find the Great Sui Palace, that den of vipers, and pay it a visit. And upon my return, that craven godling Cai Jing will face his reckoning.”

Like a journey to the privy, followed by the cleansing of hands?