Chapter 309: The Dead Leave Their Deeds, Not Their Shadows!

“My name is Han Qiusheng.”

“I am the custodian of the Twelve Children of White Wolf Gully.”

“And the only person they can still rely on.”

Xu Erxiao looked at him.

“Then why don’t you let them choose for themselves?”

“They would choose wrongly.”

“Then they can bear the consequences themselves.”

Han Qiusheng stared at the children.

“You don’t understand.”

“I have seen people lead them away.”

“They said it was adoption, but later sold them to the mines.”

“They said it was initiation into a sect, but later made them guard someone else’s temple.”

“They said they were returning them to relatives, but in the end, even their corpses could not be found.”

“I gave them all the same surname and recorded them all together. At least then, no one would dare openly lay a hand on them.”

Lin Zhaoxuan said, “Uniformity is not protection.”

“You hid them inside the memorial arch, making everyone believe they were merely possessions registered under your name.”

“So what?”

“As long as they’re alive.”

Xu Erxiao suddenly asked, “Have you ever asked whether they were willing?”

Han Qiusheng did not answer.

“Look.” Xu Erxiao pointed toward the boy who had seen the white wolf. “He’s willing to come with me.”

“He doesn’t know any better.”

“Then teach him. Don’t decide his entire life for him.”

Han Qiusheng’s expression kept changing.

The children did not hide behind him.

They all stood on Xu Erxiao’s side.

That fact was like a thorn, slowly burrowing into Han Qiusheng’s heart.

The twelve black shadows rose from the ground again, transforming into a gigantic palm impression that pressed down toward the children.

Han Qiusheng raised his hand to block it, only to discover that his own arm had also been wrapped in black thread.

The black thread grew from the character “Han” beneath his right eye and connected to the crossbar of the memorial arch.

The man let out a pained growl.

“It isn’t me…”

“It’s using me to guard them.”

Lu Yuan’s voice came from outside the memorial arch.

“You handed their names over to it, so naturally, it makes the decisions for you.”

He had finally arrived.

Wang Cheng’an and Zhou Heng followed behind him, and Wang Cheng’an now had three stone fragments in his hand.

“There are three name-erasing seals in White Wolf Gully.”

“One is in the memorial arch, one is in the water vat, and one is on Han Qiusheng.”

Lu Yuan looked at the character “Han” beneath Han Qiusheng’s right eye.

“That isn’t a brand.”

“It is the entrance to the fourth seal.”

Han Qiusheng said, “I can’t remove it.”

“If I do, the children will die.”

“Their lives are not tied to you.”

Lu Yuan walked over to the children.

“Those who are willing to leave, take one step forward.”

Of the twelve children, eleven stepped forward.

Only the youngest girl did not move.

She hugged her knees and whispered, “I’m scared.”

Song Qinghe crouched down.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that after I leave, no one will want me.”

Song Qinghe placed the green lamp in front of her.

“You can follow the lamp for now.”

“The lamp will not choose for you.”

“It will only illuminate the ground beneath your feet.”

The little girl looked at the lamp, then at Han Qiusheng.

“Will he be locked up?”

Han Qiusheng lowered his head.

“I don’t know.”

Lu Yuan said, “If he is willing to return your names to you, he won’t need to be locked up.”

“What if he isn’t willing?”

“Then he can remain here with the old seal.”

Han Qiusheng closed his eyes.

A moment later, he raised his hand and personally tore open the character “Han” beneath his right eye.

There was no blood beneath the flesh, only a black wooden fragment.

He pulled the fragment out.

The entire memorial arch suddenly tilted.

The black palm impression struggled free from his body, its five fingers each grabbing one of the twelve children.

Han Qiusheng gritted his teeth and smashed the wooden fragment against the palm impression.

“They are not my names!”

The palm impression was struck by the fragment, and its five fingers contracted.

Lu Yuan seized the opportunity and drew his blade.

The broken blade hacked into the center of the palm.

Han Qiusheng also pressed both hands against it.

“My name is Han Qiusheng.”

“I am not a containment seal.”

“I am not Master Han.”

“I am not the master name of White Wolf Gully.”

“My only responsibility is to bring them to a place where someone can bear witness to them.”

Xu Erxiao shouted, “Children, state your own names!”

The first boy shouted, “I saw a white wolf!”

The second girl shouted, “I want to live beside the river!”

The third child shouted, “My father is on the southern slope!”

One voice rose after another.

The youngest girl was the last to lift her head.

“My name is Amei.”

“I chose that name myself.”

The black palm impression rapidly grew thinner amid the twelve voices.

The nine wooden tablets on the memorial arch fell simultaneously.

After the tablet bearing the character “Han” struck the ground, it split into countless fragments.

Han Qiusheng knelt in the snow, with only a faint scar remaining beneath his right eye.

He handed the black wooden fragment to Lu Yuan.

“The third name-erasing seal is no longer on me.”

“Where did it go?”

Han Qiusheng looked toward the depths of the Northern Ridge.

“It was taken away.”

“Who took it?”

“A person wearing white gloves.”

“He called himself Master Han.”

“But he isn’t me.”

Lu Yuan accepted the wooden fragment.

A route was carved into its back, leading toward Old Dragon’s Back.

Wang Cheng’an lowered his head and looked at the frame of his abacus.

The character “Qi” in the seventh groove had disappeared.

In its place was a new carving.

It resembled a gloved hand.

“Old Dragon’s Back.”

“The final name-erasing seal is there.”

Han Qiusheng stood up.

“I’ll go with you.”

Xu Erxiao looked at him.

“What about the children?”

“They’ll stay in White Wolf Gully.”

“Who will look after them?”

“They’ll choose for themselves.”

Among the twelve children, several walked over to Han Qiusheng, several stood beside Xu Erxiao, and two tugged at Song Qinghe’s clothes.

No one was assigned to anyone anymore.

Han Qiusheng watched them for a while, then nodded.

“I’ll come back.”

Before they left, the boy who had seen the white wolf handed Xu Erxiao a small wooden tablet.

The tablet bore two characters: “A Bai.”

Xu Erxiao asked, “What’s this?”

“The white wolf’s name.”

“Isn’t it dead?”

“Even the dead have names.”

Xu Erxiao accepted the tablet and carefully tucked it into his clothes.

The memorial arch in White Wolf Gully slowly collapsed behind them.

This time, there was no black snow and no crying.

There were only twelve children standing in the snow, watching the memorial arch disappear of their own accord.

The six of them, together with Han Qiusheng, hurried toward Old Dragon’s Back.

As darkness began to fall, they stopped beneath a wind-sheltered rock.

Wang Cheng’an took out the seven ledgers of indexes.

“The twelve children rescued from White Wolf Gully should be temporarily recorded in the Origin Register and the Kinship Verification Register.”

“The names they reported themselves must also be recorded separately.”

Lin Zhaoxuan said, “What should we do with Han Qiusheng’s Custodian Register?”

“Burn it,” Han Qiusheng said.

“Don’t burn it,” Xu Erxiao said.

Everyone looked at him.

“There might still be clues about where the children came from.”

Xu Erxiao picked up the register that had been torn apart.

“Just because the rules are rotten doesn’t mean we should burn every useful clue inside it.”

Lu Yuan nodded.

“Disassemble the register.”

“Keep the useful evidence, and destroy the parts that must be removed.”

Wang Cheng’an took out a pair of scissors and began separating the pages one by one.

Han Qiusheng sat beneath the rock, watching them sort through his old register.

“Why aren’t you afraid of the trouble?”

“We are,” Lu Yuan said. “But trouble cannot become a reason to detain people.”

Han Qiusheng lowered his head.

“What will you do if you cannot find the seal at Old Dragon’s Back?”

“Keep looking.”

“What if you find it and discover that the person wearing the white gloves is Shen Yanshan?”

“Ask him why he did it.”

“What if he says he did it for the people living in the mountains?”

“Make him write down his own name.”

Han Qiusheng said softly, “He won’t write it.”

“Then leave an empty tablet for him.”

At night, the mountain wind pressed down on the treetops.

A wolf howl suddenly came from the distance.

The A Bai wooden tablet trembled faintly inside Xu Erxiao’s clothes.

When he took it out, another line had appeared on the back:

“Old Dragon’s Back opens at the third watch.”

Immediately afterward, the frame of Wang Cheng’an’s abacus gave a crisp click.

The glove-shaped carving began extending outward.

In the end, it formed a complete left hand.

Beneath the palm, three characters were carved:

“Han Shoumo.”

Han Qiusheng’s expression changed dramatically when he saw it.

“It isn’t him.”

“I heard that name inside the memorial arch.”

“Han Shoumo has been to White Wolf Gully?”

“He has.”

“Did he give the children their names?”

“Not the children.”

Han Qiusheng pointed at the handprint.

“He was looking for a child.”

“Which one?”

“The one without a surname.”

“Amei?”

“Not her.”

Han Qiusheng shook his head.

“One of the twelve children never came out.”

Everyone turned toward White Wolf Gully at the same time.

Xu Erxiao suddenly stood up.

“What did you say?”

“There were clearly twelve children just now.”

“Those were the twelve children inside the memorial arch.”

“There were originally thirteen children truly confined in White Wolf Gully.”

Han Qiusheng’s voice grew lower and lower.

“The thirteenth child had no wooden tablet.”

“Her mother died when she was born.”

“She had no surname, and no one had given her a name.”

“I hid her beneath the water vat.”

Xu Erxiao asked urgently, “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I thought Han Shoumo had already taken her away.”

“When?”

“Just before the memorial arch collapsed.”

“You didn’t see it?”

Han Qiusheng closed his eyes.

“I saw a hand wearing a white glove reach out from beneath the water vat.”

“It carried the child away.”

The mountain wind suddenly stopped.

A crack appeared in Amei’s wooden tablet in Xu Erxiao’s hand.

A faint little girl’s voice came from inside the crack:

“My name isn’t Amei.”

Song Qinghe immediately raised the lamp.

“It left behind a shadow.”

Under the illumination of the bronze lamp, a small shadow appeared on the snow behind Xu Erxiao.

The shadow had no feet, only one hand.

That hand pointed in the direction of Old Dragon’s Back.

Lu Yuan put away the seven ledgers of indexes.

“We aren’t sleeping tonight.”

Wang Cheng’an put away the scissors.

“We’re going to Old Dragon’s Back?”

“Yes.”

Han Qiusheng stood up and wrapped the black wooden fragment around his wrist.

“There is an abandoned mine tunnel at Old Dragon’s Back that leads to the rear storehouse of the old mountain discussion altar.”

“The original registers whose names were erased are hidden in that storehouse.”

“If the person wearing the white gloves took the child, he must obtain the original register to perform a name-establishing ritual for her.”

Xu Erxiao put away A Bai’s wooden tablet, drew his sword, and walked at the front.

“This time, when we find him, we’ll ask the child’s name first.”

“Then we’ll ask his.”

Lu Yuan gazed toward the gloomy night sky.

Deep in the Northern Ridge, a white lamp quietly lit up.

A person stood beneath the lamp.

The person wore immaculate white gloves and held a small child in his arms.

The child did not cry.

She merely kept her eyes open and looked into the distance.

A black Wooden Stake was planted beside the white lamp.

A new line was carved into it:

“Number six hundred and forty-eight, awaiting assignment.”

The person wearing the white gloves raised his head and looked down the mountain.

His voice passed through the wind and snow and reached everyone’s ears with perfect clarity:

“Lu Yuan.”

“You have finally arrived.”

“This time, who is willing to report a name for her?”

“The dead must not choose a path for the living.”

The instant Xu Erxiao finished speaking, the old snow beneath the stone platform suddenly split open.

What surged out of the fissure was not black energy, but road after road that had long been pressed beneath the altars. The roads were narrow, their mud and water frozen into black ice, with damaged route markers planted along both sides. The names that had once been written on those markers had been scraped away with a blade, leaving only destinations such as East Hamlet, West Ridge, Northern Opening, Herb Shop, and Green Pine Temple.

The twelve strands of qi within the black doorframe simultaneously sank downward.

They had originally intended to borrow the six people’s old shadows and fuse them into a door. Now, however, the six people each stood firmly in place. Their names, possessions, and roads bore witness to one another, yet they were no longer bound together as a single master name. The twelve mountain regulations could find no one to suppress, so they could only retreat to the roads they had once pressed down.

The Gate Master stared at the ancient roads emerging from the ground, and his expression finally changed.

“Do you know what lies buried beneath the altar?”

Lu Yuan said, “We do.”

“Those whose names you detained, whose paths you changed, and whom you used as proof.”

“How many old cases beyond the Great Wall will be reopened if you release them?”

“Those that should be reopened will be reopened.”

“Some of them have been dead for decades!”

“The dead cannot speak, but the living can.” Lu Yuan fixed his eyes on him. “The living can determine whom to question, how to compensate them, and how to make restitution. You buried them beneath the altar not to spare yourself trouble, but to ensure that no one could ever question your rules.”

The Gate Master’s face darkened.

“Do you think they all want to return?”

“Some changed their names, married, and had children. Some borrowed shadows and obtained farmland in exchange. Some survived the years of chaos with a forged travel document. If you release their old names, their current lives will be the first things destroyed.”

Song Qinghe said, “Returning an old name does not mean erasing the life that came afterward.”

“A person can have an old name, as well as a later name. What should be recorded is the journey, not forcing someone to be left with only one usable name.”

Wang Cheng’an continued, “An account can be corrected. It cannot consist only of things crossed out.”

“Under your rules, when someone changes their name, the life before it is treated as dead. When someone’s name is detained, the days afterward are not allowed to acknowledge them either. That isn’t record-keeping. It is cutting people off from their own lives.”

The roll of white paper beside the Gate Master began moving without any wind.

The six names that had been scraped away reappeared on the paper. Yet behind each name, many tiny annotations also emerged.

Behind Lu Yuan’s name was written: “Former herb-shop disciple, Northern Mountain traveler, witness from Ma Family Gully.”

Behind Wang Cheng’an’s name was written: “Descendant of the Wang Family, holder of the old accounts, auditor of Beiguan.”

Behind Xu Erxiao’s name was written: “Resident of Little Stone Hamlet, mother buried west of the hamlet, old residence awaiting investigation.”

Annotations also emerged behind the names of Lin Zhaoxuan, Zhou Heng, and Song Qinghe, recording their Daoist methods, journeys, observations, and testimony.

Those annotations did not weigh down the names. Instead, they resembled roads extending from behind each person.

The wooden figure of the Twelfth Discussion suddenly gave a muffled thud.

The character “Communal” splitting across its chest broke away on one side.

The Gate Master abruptly pressed his hand against the stone platform.

“If all names do not return to the community, who will determine what is true and what is false?”

“Witnesses, physical evidence, old roads, and old registers,” Lu Yuan said. “If one source is insufficient, ask several more.”

“What if the accounts conflict?”

“Then leave the matter undecided for now.”

“Absurd.”

“It is better to leave it undecided for now than to let you decide life and death for everyone.”

Those words struck the Stone Door like a heavy hammer.

The enormous character “Communal” in the center of the black stone door split apart completely. Sheets of gray-white paper scraps surged through the crack, spinning in midair. Each scrap contained a record that had been erased.

“Ma Huaiyi led forty-three people, but only thirty-seven arrived.”

“Sun Liushi led twenty-one people, but only fifteen arrived.”

“Eleven disciples of the White Cloud Sect, Daoist credentials temporarily confiscated.”

“Miss Xu, marriage household re-registered, old name sealed.”

“Deceased member of the Zhou clan, shadow retained under Communal Guardianship.”

The paper scraps grew more numerous, and the wooden tablets on the chests of the twelve wooden figures began cracking one after another.

The Fourth Discussion, “Those Who Borrow Shadows Must Not Travel Alone,” shattered first.

Lin Zhaoxuan looked up and saw a young Daoist emerge from the shadow beneath his feet. The Daoist resembled him, carried an old wooden sword on his back, and wore a panicked expression.

“Senior Brother,” the Daoist in the shadow said softly. “Don’t dismantle the Fourth Discussion.”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s hand tightened slightly.

“Xuanzhen?”

Zhou Heng also turned his head.

It was their junior brother, who had been separated from them inside the pass many years ago.

The Daoist in the shadow raised his hand. A black thread was tied around his wrist.

“I didn’t have a route slip back then. The Guardian Mountain Discussion Altar lent me a shadow, and that was how I survived crossing the Northern Mountain.”

“If you dismantle the regulation, my shadow will have nowhere to return.”

Lin Zhaoxuan remained silent for a moment, then walked over to the shadow.

“When you borrowed the shadow, whose shadow did you use?”

Xuanzhen froze.

“I don’t know.”

“Over the years, have you ever dreamed that someone was following you?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever heard someone calling out to you, telling you not to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Then isn’t that debt yours to repay?”

The Daoist in the shadow went deathly pale.

Lin Zhaoxuan placed his ink marker on the snow and pulled out a straight line.

“Borrowing a shadow can save someone in an emergency.”

“But whatever is borrowed must eventually have its origin investigated. What should be returned must be returned. A person who borrows a shadow cannot live forever by relying on someone else’s shadow.”

“Traveling alone is not a crime. Stealing a road is.”

He plucked the ink line.

The black thread snapped, and a faint white road mark immediately appeared on Xuanzhen’s wrist within the shadow. The Daoist stared blankly at his hand, then bowed to Lin Zhaoxuan before turning and walking south along one of the ancient roads that had emerged.

The wooden figure of the Fourth Discussion split into two pieces, and lengths of tangled black thread fell from inside.

The Fifth Discussion, “The Names of the Dead Must Not Be Erased,” lit up immediately afterward.

All the copper coins at Zhou Heng’s feet suddenly flipped over.

Many translucent figures slowly rose from the snow. They did not attack. They merely surrounded Zhou Heng, repeatedly murmuring the same words.

“A name must not be erased.”

Zhou Heng’s face turned pale.

Song Qinghe realized that something was wrong.

“They aren’t preserving the names.”

“They are trapped in the final act of recording.”

Zhou Heng crouched down and picked up a copper coin.

The character “Zhou” was carved on the back of the coin, and an extremely small Taoist name was engraved along its edge.

Those were the characters written by his master.

When Green Pine Temple had been besieged by chaos, his master had stayed behind to cover the disciples’ escape through the pass. Yet afterward, the altar’s records had listed his master under Communal Guardianship of the Dead, stating that his name must not be erased and his shadow must not disperse.

Zhou Heng had always believed that this at least meant a trace of his master had been preserved.

Only now did he understand that “must not be erased” merely meant nailing the dead in place and using them as one of the altar’s regulations.

He clenched the copper coin, his voice low.

“What did Master say when he died?”

Lin Zhaoxuan did not answer.

Song Qinghe said softly, “He said that the living must keep moving forward.”

Zhou Heng closed his eyes briefly.

“The dead may have their names recorded.”

“But once they have been recorded, they should be allowed to leave.”

He placed the copper coin on the snow and bowed solemnly.

“Zhou Daoxuan of Green Pine Temple died at the mountain gate inside the pass. His disciple Zhou Heng records his teachings and protection. I will not borrow his shadow, and I will not retain his spirit.”

The character “Zhou” on the copper coin slowly faded.

The dead shadows surrounding them stopped repeating the words and bowed toward him one after another. Wind swept across the stone platform, carrying them away like thin mist until they dispersed into the mountains.

The Fifth Discussion went dark.

The Sixth Discussion, “One Household, One Master Name,” suddenly exploded.

Countless wooden tablets on the mountain walls beside the stone platform turned toward them. Voices arguing with one another came from every tablet. Some people called for the Clan Leader, some called for their husbands, some called for their eldest sons, and some called for the shopkeepers.

An aged woman’s voice came from deep within the mountain wall.

“One household should have only one master name. That makes it easier to manage.”

Xu Erxiao cursed as soon as he heard it. “What nonsense!”

The old woman’s voice became shrill.

“Without a master, there will be chaos!”

“My family only has my mother as its head, and we’ve managed to get by. Who says that’s chaos?”

Wang Cheng’an separated the abacus beads into several rows and placed them on the snow.

“One household has land accounts, grain accounts, favor accounts, and entry-and-exit accounts. The person managing the land does not necessarily manage the grain, and the person managing the grain does not necessarily manage personal favors.”

“To make the registers easier to write, you forcibly pressed an entire family into one master name, leaving everyone else with only an attached name.”

“When someone with an attached name died, it wasn’t recorded. When someone with an attached name left, it did not count. Even when someone with an attached name spoke, it was meaningless.”

Song Qinghe raised the lamp toward the mountain wall.

The three characters “Xu Liushi” emerged on one wooden tablet, with the smaller words “attached to the Xu Family” pressed behind them.

Xu Erxiao trembled from head to toe.

That was his mother’s name.

“I’m going to move her grave back to the west side of the hamlet,” he said through clenched teeth. “Her own name must be carved on her gravestone.”

The green lamp flashed, and the words “attached to the Xu Family” turned to black ash. Only “Xu Liushi” remained on the wooden tablet.

Immediately afterward, more and more attached names broke free from the various wooden tablets.

Wives, daughters, young sons, widowed mothers, shop assistants, adopted daughters, lodgers… The names of all those who had been classified beneath a master name began shining individually.

The wooden figure of the Sixth Discussion collapsed with a thunderous crash.

The Gate Master finally stopped sitting by and watching.

He raised his hand and unfurled the roll of white paper. It spread through the air, extending for several yards. It was densely covered with the names preserved by the Guardian Mountain Discussion Altar, numbering tens of thousands.

“You want each person to establish their own name?”

“Fine.”

“Then take them all!”

The white paper suddenly fell, like a snowfall of ghastly white, pressing down toward the six people and the ancient roads beneath the stone platform.

Every name that landed on the ground transformed into a heavy stone tablet. If they allowed the paper to fall, the ancient roads that had just emerged, the dead shadows that had dispersed, and the attached names that had broken free would all be sealed beneath the stone once more.

Lu Yuan shouted, “Protect the roads!”

Xu Erxiao charged toward the nearest ancient road first and swung his sword, smashing the stone tablets raining down upon it. He did not recognize the names carved on them, but he still shouted every time he destroyed one.

“Someone walked this road!”

Zhou Heng arranged the copper coins into a formation, blocking the names on the falling paper from striking the dead shadows. Lin Zhaoxuan used ink lines to divide the white paper into several sections, preventing it from recombining into one complete master register.

Song Qinghe shone her lamp over every stone tablet. Whenever a name had been altered, overlapped, or erased, its original strokes appeared.

Wang Cheng’an sat in the snow and returned the scattered abacus beads to their rows one by one.

Not the total count.

The origin, destination, witnesses, and matters awaiting investigation.

Each time he placed a bead, he loudly announced a new regulation.

“If the origin is unknown, it may await investigation. No one may be detained!”

“Old names and new names must be recorded together. Neither may erase the other!”

“The dead leave their deeds, not their shadows!”

“Marriage households must be reported by the people themselves. They may not be re-registered!”

“Those without guarantors may be jointly verified by their companions and the local community!”