Chapter 6 — Entering the Gate

Song Dayi's voice was rough and loud. "Yes. Early this morning your disciple and several fellow disciples were returning from an errand, flying back through the air. As we passed over Liumiao Village I happened to look down, and saw more than two hundred corpses heaped together in the village—a sight no eye could bear. We hurried down to search, and found only these two children at the back of the village. They were senseless, so I sent a junior brother back with them first. Then by the village, in the latrine"—he pointed at Uncle Wang huddled in the corner—"we found this man. But his eyes were blank and his wits wandering; whatever I asked, he would not answer, only repeating over and over: ghost, ghost, a fiend."

Lin Jinghong's body gave a shudder. "Brother," he said, his voice shaking, "may I ask—have you counted the number of the dead?"

Compassion showed in Song Dayi's eyes. "I found a junior brother who had long traded firewood with your village; he knew the villagers well. By his reckoning, and after our own count: the forty-two households of Liumiao Village, two hundred and forty-seven souls in all—apart from you three, every one is dead."

Though they had felt it coming, hearing Song Dayi say it so plainly and so certainly, Lin Jinghong and Zhang Qingyue could not help it: the world went black before their eyes and they nearly swooned again.

Zhenren Daoyan gave a soft sigh, and with a light flick of his left hand a small red pearl flew from his sleeve to the two boys, where it rolled a few times over their brows and the pit of each heart; at once a cool, clear breath passed into them. Somehow the nerves that had been drawn taut within them slackened, and all at once they felt utterly spent; they could not help but lie down there in the great hall and fall asleep.

Zhenren Daoyan waved his hand. The standing disciples bowed one after another and withdrew in order. In the hall there remained only the six of them.

Then the short, stout man spoke. "Senior Brother Master, you have used the Spirit-Calming Pearl to quiet them for now. But when they wake—what do you mean to do with them?"

Zhenren Daoyan mused a moment, then turned to the Daoist seated first on the left and asked, "Brother Cangsong, what do you think?"

Cangsong Daoren was tall of frame and grave of countenance, leader of the Dragon Peak branch of the Canglan Sect. Within the sect, after Zhenren Daoyan's own line, his Dragon Peak was the mightiest in name and strength. Cangsong was stern by nature; besides governing the disciples of his own branch, he had charge of all matters of punishment and discipline throughout the sect. The Canglan disciples revered Zhenren Daoyan beyond measure, yet what they feared most was this unsmiling Cangsong.

Cangyan Daoren knitted his thick brows and was silent a while. At last he said, "There are far too many doubtful points in this business, and plainly we will not get to the bottom of it in haste. But the folk of Liumiao Village were ever simple and honest; we cannot leave their orphans to their fate. My thought is that we take the two of them into the sect."

Daoist Daoyan nodded. "Quite right; that is my own thinking. These two children are alone and wretched in the world, and we must look after them. Only, I have taken no disciples for many years now. Which of you junior brothers will receive them under your teaching?"

At this the short, stout man — Tian Buhui, Peak Master of the Dazhu Peak line of the Canglan Sect — said, "Senior Brother Sect Master, in my view it would be best not to put the two of them under one master. Their circumstances are alike; if they stay together, each will see in the other a reminder of what happened, and such rancor will never cease. I fear it will go badly with them in days to come."

Daoyan considered, then said, "Junior Brother Tian speaks sense. Young as they are, they have met with a great calamity; we must do our utmost to dissolve the hatred in their hearts, and indeed it would not do to keep them together. That means two of you junior brothers must take them in." As he spoke he looked over the assembly.

The other five Peak Masters — Cangsong first among them, with Tian Buhui and the rest — almost as one let their eyes come to rest on Lin Jinghong, circling him, unwilling to look away; and not one of them paid the least heed to Zhang Qingyue at his side.

In the way of cultivation, innate quality counts for everything. There is a common saying in the world that a true prodigy who grasps the Way surpasses a hundred years of toil. The men of the Canglan Sect knew this better than any. In the years when the sect had come to its last extremity, it leaned upon a single figure — Patriarch Qingye, dazzling in talent. Young as he was, his gifts were peerless: he pierced the meaning of the ancients' scrolls and surpassed every generation before him in cultivation. From a little Canglan Sect he made a thing bursting with life, thriving beyond measure — and today it stood as the leader of the righteous Way under heaven.

Moreover, a renowned master is hard to find, but a disciple of the finest quality is just as rare. Lin Jinghong's gifts were extraordinary, his frame and bone wonderfully suited to the path; the Peak Masters of Canglan had each seen it at a glance.

After a moment of quiet, Tian Buhui cleared his throat. "Heh heh. Senior Brother Sect Master, you know the Dazhu Peak line has always been thin in numbers. This time, then, let me settle one of your problems for you."

He was just raising his hand to point at Lin Jinghong when Shang Zhengliang, Peak Master of the Chaoyang Peak line, rose first and stepped in front of him, saying to Daoist Daoyan, "Senior Brother Sect Master, the moment I set eyes on this child today I felt a rare bond with him — some karma from a former life, I fancy. Let him come under my teaching."

The Canglan Sect had a long history, and though its peaks showed a fair face to one another, in their hearts they were ever vying. Here before them stood Lin Jinghong, a boy of surpassing quality — who could say he would not be the next Patriarch Qingye? And at the very worst, taking him in meant only one more disciple, while denying every other peak the chance. By the prestige of Daoyan's person and cultivation, none would have dared contend for him — but Daoyan himself had said he would take no disciples. How could such a stroke of fortune be let slip?

No sooner had Shang Zhengliang's words fallen than Daoist Tianyun, Peak Master of the Luoxia Peak line, put in from the side, "Senior Brother Shang, you have two hundred disciples already. If every one of them shares a karma-bond with you, your bonds must be a good deal too many."

Shang Zhengliang flushed and was about to speak, but Tian Buhui got in first: "Senior Brother Tianyun speaks truly. As for numbers of disciples, the least of your peaks has above a hundred, while my Dazhu Peak line has only seven — it hardly looks proper. Better that—"

Here Daoist Cangyan cut him off. "Junior Brother Tian, these two children are pitiable enough as it is. What we owe them is the best of care, not a reckoning of how many disciples each of us has." With that he turned and cupped his hands to Daoist Daoyan. "Senior Brother Sect Master, this child is indeed fine material. Let me take him under my teaching; I will instruct him with all my heart and bring him to worthiness, to comfort the souls of Liumiao Village."

Daoyan pondered a moment. Tian Buhui and Shang Zhengliang and the others all inwardly cried that it was bad, and sure enough, after a pause Daoyan said, "There is reason in what Junior Brother Cangsong says. Let the boy come under your teaching, then."

Cangsong smiled faintly. "Thank you, Senior Brother Sect Master."