Chapter Forty-Eight: Seeking Justice for the Common People

The guard made his way through the Tian residence, passing through courtyards and corridors, traversing more than half the estate before finally reaching the rear garden. In the cool pavilion, Tian Xingjian and Li Que sat across from each other, a chessboard crafted by Zhong Ming laid out before them. Their match was at its height, both men deeply engrossed.

Xiaoxiao, the close maid, led the guard into the pavilion. The guard immediately knelt and said, “Young master, a man named Zhong Ming waits outside the gates, claiming he has urgent business.”

Tian Xingjian set his chess piece down with a smile, flicked open his peach-blossom folding fan, and said, “See? I was just saying he’d come to ask me for something. Does this mean I win this game? I lost to him yesterday, but today I win—so I’m not at a loss.”

Li Que breathed a sigh of relief and, seeing no hope of victory, scattered the chess pieces with a casual swipe. Rather than continue to lose, he decided to take the opportunity to cheat and leapt lightly onto the wooden railing to watch the fish in the pond.

Li Que asked, “Since he’s come to beg your help, will you oblige him?”

Tian Xingjian idly waved his fan and replied, still smiling, “No. I enjoy watching him flustered and at a loss.”

Li Que sighed. “Junior brother, with such a temperament, your path to enlightenment will be narrow indeed. How do you expect to attain immortality?”

Tian Xingjian snorted. “You speak of cultivating immortality, seeking eternal life, and yet no one has succeeded. The Matriarch E Chan has reincarnated seven times, living barely a thousand years each time—hasn’t she died seven deaths? Where is this so-called immortality?”

“Enough, junior brother! Mind your tongue!” Li Que’s brow immediately frosted over, his eyes flashing with anger.

Tian Xingjian realized he had overstepped. He was proud to the point of arrogance, unrestrained in his speech, and often provoked his iceberg of a senior brother.

He coughed to dispel the awkwardness, then, flicking his peach-blossom fan, strode to the little maid and said, “Xiaoxiao, fetch an incense coil for Zhong Ming, and tell him that when the incense has burned down, he may come again to request the medicine—it will be ready then.”

“Yes, young master.” Xiaoxiao bowed and withdrew with the guard.

Li Que soon recovered his composure and sighed, “If you won’t help him, so be it. But why make a mockery of him?”

Tian Xingjian tossed fish feed into the pond and replied, “A man who begs for the lives of the people, how foolish is he? Each has their own fate, life and death are decreed by heaven. Is it not a pity not to toy with such a fool?”

Li Que was speechless, and after a long pause, said, “Is this how you treat your chess friends?”

Tian Xingjian appeared utterly absorbed in watching the fish, giving no answer.

Li Que chuckled wryly and shook his head. “Indeed, a man as clever as you has no need of friends.”

Tian Xingjian burst out laughing. “Precisely! None know me better than you, my brother!”

His laughter, wild and mad, echoed through the rear garden as if he mocked all the world, believing everyone as foolish as Zhong Ming.

...

At the front gate of the Tian residence, Xiaoxiao hurried over holding an incense coil. With an icy expression, she approached Zhong Ming and said, “My young master says, when this incense has burned away, return to request the medicine and it will be given.”

With that, she placed the incense in Zhong Ming’s hands. He stared at it for a moment in stunned silence.

This was an incense used in rituals, known as the Everlasting Incense, and would burn for three days and three nights. If he had to wait until it was finished to plead again for the medicine, who knew how many would die in the meantime.

What’s more, Tian Xingjian’s involvement was clear—he had anticipated Zhong Ming’s request for medicine before he even opened his mouth. Just as Zhong Ming had known Tian Xingjian would have a remedy, Tian Xingjian had also known Zhong Ming would come to him.

To make him wait for three days and nights was Tian Xingjian’s way of humiliating him.

Realizing this, Zhong Ming let out a cold laugh and smashed the incense to pieces. “Thank your young master for me, and tell him he’s the most tedious man I’ve ever met!”

Tian Xingjian was always fascinated by novelty—anything that piqued his interest would earn an “how interesting!” Zhong Ming’s words were meant as a biting insult, dismissing him as no more than a plaything.

Mounting his horse, Zhong Ming galloped away.

But as he rode back toward the village, he was troubled. Not only had he failed to secure life-saving medicine, he had been made the butt of a cruel joke.

Then it struck him: if this epidemic was not an act of heaven but the result of human malice, then there was a purpose behind it. Still, he could not fathom who wanted the people of the borderlands dead, or why.

As he wrestled with these questions, a dazzling golden light suddenly streaked across the sky.

The golden radiance blazed against the gloomy clouds, so brilliant it dazzled the eye. It swept across the heavens, then hovered in midair, suspended above the border city for the space of a joss stick’s burning.

Like a newborn sun, it drew the gaze of every townsman and villager, and the timid fell to their knees, crying, “An immortal! An immortal has descended!”

“The immortal from the Jade Capital has come—we are saved!”

As one such cry rang out beside Zhong Ming, he was struck by a sudden realization. A spring rain had brought pestilence; now an immortal from the Jade Capital appeared, banishing the plague. What swifter way to seize the hearts of the credulous masses?

While Zhong Ming pondered, the golden glow scattered the clouds. Since the day before, the sky had been gloomy, but now it brightened; the clouds seemed to drift away like dispersing smoke, soon vanishing completely.

Such a miracle drew ever more people to their knees, worshipping and crying out.

Zhong Ming stood in stunned silence, staring up at the sky.

When the clouds had utterly vanished, the golden light shot southward, flying several miles beyond the city walls before plummeting to the earth.

With a thunderous crash, the entire town shook violently. Zhong Ming’s old horse reared in terror, whinnying desperately.

Someone shouted, “The dragon beneath the earth has stirred! The immortal is angry, the earth dragon rolls!”

The crowd, bewildered and superstitious, shouted whatever their imaginations conjured, further fraying Zhong Ming’s nerves. He urged his horse forward, racing toward the place where the golden light had fallen, determined to see what had happened.

The site was not far—just outside the southern gate. Zhong Ming soon reached it, finding the city gates thrown wide and throngs pouring out to witness the wonder.

He pressed his horse forward, and a hundred yards beyond the gate he saw a towering boulder, as tall as ten men, tapering as it rose like a small mountain peak.

Already, people knelt before the stone—commoners, city guards, all alike.

At the sight of that massive rock, Zhong Ming’s heart trembled with a sudden memory of an old legend.

It was said that in ancient times, there was a celestial mountain that could move at will. When it had stayed in one place long enough, it would soar into the sky, then descend upon another scenic spot, repeating this wondrous cycle. People called it the “Flying Peak.”

Gripping the reins tightly, Zhong Ming murmured, “Could this be the Flying Peak?”

Still puzzled, he rode closer. Only at the base of the stone could he see its full grandeur.

The stone was not just tall above ground; much of it was buried below. Its southern face was smooth as a mirror, as if polished by human hands, and upon it were inscribed enormous characters, each as large as two men.

“To Approach Immortality.”

The calligraphy was elegant, clearly the work of a master. The letters were painted in golden lacquer, radiating an awesome presence.

Zhong Ming stared at the words, and suddenly his vision blurred. The characters seemed to come alive, each stroke transforming into a golden-robed figure dancing across the stone. Celestial music rang in his ears.

“In the Jade Capital above, twelve towers and five citadels. The immortal lays a hand upon my crown and grants me the secret of eternal life…”

Bells and drums resounded, dizzying Zhong Ming. His vision darkened, his body moved of its own accord—he dismounted, swept aside his robes, and was about to kneel.

In a daze, Zhong Ming nearly prostrated himself before the stone, like the countless others entranced by the immortal music.

Suddenly, a voice cried in his ear, “Zhong the Layman, do not kneel!”