The morning bell rang while Wang Ben was still on the floor, guiding qi through his meridians. Grey light showed beneath the shutters. Cultivation had quieted his thoughts enough to keep him there through the night, but his eyes ached when he opened them.
He finished the circulation, rose, and dressed. Outside, servants hurried along the corridors and clansmen passed one another with brief nods. The estate had not been this busy in months. He went to find his father.
Wang Tian was in the main hall with Wang Tiexin. They stopped talking when Wang Ben entered. Scrolls lay between them on the table, with a third cup beside the kettle.
"Sit," Wang Tiexin said.
Wang Ben took the empty seat. His father had told him last night that the Patriarch knew. He had hoped for news of what they had found.
"What you did yesterday was reckless," his grandfather said.
Wang Ben looked down at the cup.
"A frog who learns to leap onto the lip of his well has reason to be proud," Wang Tiexin said. "He can see farther than he ever could before. But he still knows very little of the world outside it. And when he calls out, he does not know what might hear him."
His grandfather waited until Wang Ben looked up again.
"Return to your formation work," Wang Tiexin said. "You are not to leave this compound."
Wang Ben nodded. "I understand, Grandfather."
"We have recalled many of the cultivators patrolling the Blackwood," Wang Tiexin continued. "They are keeping watch around the city, with the strongest watch here. Any cultivator lingering near our walls without business will be questioned. If they refuse, they will answer to the Grand Elder."
Wang Ben bowed to his grandfather and father before leaving. Neither had needed another account of the market.
In the corridor, he slowed to let a clansman pass. His family knew he had gone out alone after his mother forbade it. They had every reason to be worried. But they did not know how much time he had had before the stranger reached him. He had felt the approaching qi; the System had helped him judge its strength and recognize the demonic cultivation. His hands had been ready before the man brushed past.
He had trusted that warning, and he still did. It was an advantage he could not explain to his grandfather without revealing the System.
Back in the courtyard, he took up his practice sword and worked through the familiar forms. Qi moved through his meridians more easily than it had a week ago. He could feel the difference as he moved, even with the night's weariness still in him.
When he finished, he put the sword aside and brought Shen Wuyan's texts out into the shade of the eastern wall. He opened them beside his notes and found where he had left off. He still had to work slowly, reading a passage again before turning to the next.
...
Late that afternoon, Wang Ben looked up from his notes to find Shen Ruoxi at the edge of the courtyard.
"You were entertaining yesterday," she said. "Though I would prefer you to finish my brother's work before getting yourself killed."
"Glad someone enjoyed it."
She stepped around the papers and sat on the spare cushion. "You kept your sword in its sheath. That was well done."
Wang Ben laid down his brush. "You saw who sent him?"
"Xue Feng. He is back in the city. The man who brushed past you is one of his companions. There are others."
His father's suspicion had been right. Wang Ben drew his hand away from the notes.
"And Xue Feng himself?"
"The demonic path has changed him." Her amusement faded. "Whatever he found after his clan fell, he has not come through it unscathed."
Wang Ben watched her. "Who is helping him?"
"He sent someone weaker to make you show what you could do. That does not mean he is the one directing everything."
"Someone sent him too?"
"You would do well to remember that possibility," Shen Ruoxi said. "A man can give orders and still be obeying someone else's."
"Whose?"
Shen Ruoxi smoothed her sleeve. "It is enough that you know there is more than Xue Feng to consider."
Wang Ben waited, but she had turned her attention to the pages between them. She had given him a name he could take to his father. He would get no others from her.
"Show me what you have," she said.
He moved the loose notes aside and turned the working diagram toward her. She leaned forward as he pointed out the external anchor, then the false soul meant to take an attack in the cultivator's place. When he reached the third circle, he explained the intended concealment. He kept the source texts open beside them.
"And these all have to work together?" she asked.
"With the traditional stabilization as well. Grandfather is working out how to fit them together."
She looked from the diagram to the notebook beneath his hand. "Is that his?"
"Li Cheng's. My mother's father." Wang Ben opened it at one of the passages he had marked. "He wrote about how qi moves through a formation. Some of his principles have helped us with the arrangement. Your brother's texts tell us more about what the protection has to face."
He showed her the passage he had been studying. When she asked what a line meant, he could explain only part of it. He brought another page alongside it, then stopped at a mark he still could not account for.
"We have not worked this out yet."
Shen Ruoxi studied the two pages, then looked back at him. "Go on."
He showed her what they had understood farther down. In private, the System had been comparing Li Cheng's principles, his grandfather's work and the ancient texts with its own archive. Without that help, he would have had far less to show her. Even with it, there were places where he had to leave her questions unanswered.
She stayed beside him through those parts too, following his hand from page to page. When he put the last sheet down, she rose and stepped clear of the papers.
"The materials will arrive soon," she said. "Send word to my brother if you need anything else."
At the courtyard archway, she paused and looked back at him.
"This work matters, Wang Ben. Stay alive long enough to finish it."
He nodded. She left him with the papers still open between the cushions.
...
Wang Ben told his parents about the visit over the evening meal. Wang Chen slept in Li Mei's arms, his cheek resting against her sleeve.
"You were right about the Xue remnants, Father," Wang Ben said. "Shen Ruoxi says Xue Feng is back in the city. The man in the market was one of his companions. There are others with him."
Wang Tian set his bowl down. "Then he was the one watching you?"
"Probably," Wang Ben said. "I never saw who it was."
"Ruoxi says the demonic path has changed him," Wang Ben said. "Whatever he found after the clan fell, he did not come through it unscathed."
Li Mei stopped rubbing Chen's back. "Xue Feng too."
She looked down at the sleeping child. Her hand stayed against his back.
"Did she say anything about the Crimson Bastion?" Wang Tian asked. "The matter from before the war?"
His father had been pursuing that for weeks. Wang Ben had hoped Ruoxi would give him more to bring home.
"She did not mention it," Wang Ben said. "I asked who was helping Xue Feng. She told me there was more than him to consider, but she would not give me another name."
Wang Tian's fingers rested on the rim of his bowl. "Did she mean the Bastion?"
"I couldn't tell," Wang Ben said. "It could have been someone else."
His father looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
"I'll keep looking into it," Wang Tian said.
Li Mei shifted Chen higher in her arms. Wang Ben moved her bowl closer so she could reach it with her free hand, then took up his own. Most of the food was still on the table.
...
That night, Dao Zhen sat in the First Elder's study, watching the lamplight shift on the wall. The tea in his hand had gone cold. He set it on the low table without drinking.
Patriarch Dao Jianfeng and Grand Elder Dao Lingwei had died on the same night. He had performed the rites for both of them. There had been things to do then, words to say, people waiting for him to say them. Here he could sit without anyone asking anything of him, but he kept thinking of his father.
First Elder Dao Qingshan stopped in the doorway with a fresh cup of tea. His uncle looked at the untouched cup on the table, then came around to Dao Zhen's side. He moved the cold tea aside and set the new cup within reach before sitting beside him.
Dao Zhen left his hands in his lap. His uncle stayed where he was.
"Your father came to me once, when he was about your age," Dao Qingshan said. "Our father had been dead a month. He told me he could not feel anything. He was afraid there was something wrong with him."
Dao Zhen turned toward his uncle. It was difficult to picture his father asking that of anyone.
"He had tried to grieve," Dao Qingshan continued. "Nothing came. I told him the feeling would return in its own time. He thanked me and went back to his rooms."
His uncle rested his hands on the table, beside the cold cup.
"He wept for three nights where no one could see him. He believed what I had told him. He was waiting for the grief to be over."
Dao Zhen looked down at the fresh tea. A little steam still rose from it.
"I should have told him he would have to learn to carry it," Dao Qingshan said. "It does not end because you have done everything you were supposed to do."
His uncle gave him time to answer. Dao Zhen could think of nothing to say.
"They needed his successor before you had time to grieve as his son," Dao Qingshan said. "That was too much to ask of you, Zhen."
Dao Zhen reached for the cup. He held it between his palms and let his shoulders ease. His uncle did not ask him to drink or press him to speak.
When Dao Qingshan rose, he rested a hand briefly on his nephew's head, then left the study.
Dao Zhen stayed at the table. The tea warmed his hands as he watched the light on the wall.
...
Wang Ben stood at his window after the household had retired. He had spent the day within the compound and would spend tomorrow here too. His grandfather's order had given him little choice, though he had enough work to keep him occupied.
He knew now that Xue Feng was back. Ruoxi had left him to wonder who else was involved, and Shen Wuyan still expected the clan to finish the formation. Finishing it had once seemed a way to repay what he owed. He wished he knew whether that would be enough to let him live without wondering who wanted something from him.
The System continued comparing the texts he had studied. It could help him with those. When he wondered how much longer he would have to live like this, it had no answer.
He rested his hand on the window frame, then turned back into his room.
Tomorrow the work would continue.