Monk Yi Xin, though the abbot, lived in a most peculiar place. Rather than residing in the finely appointed courtyards within the temple, he lived in a solitary stone house beneath the Bao Yan Pagoda, the tallest structure in the temple. It stood in the rear courtyard, almost the most secluded spot in the entire temple. Whenever night fell, the wind chimes atop the pagoda rang out one after another, lending the place a quiet serenity.
In this corner, the despair pervading the temple had yet to reach him. Even if it had, the monk would not have cared. He merely sat on a cloud couch, murmuring sutras, until the wind outside shifted in an anticipated wave.
The chanting gradually ceased. The monk's gaze rested on the shadows behind the door. After an unknown length of time, he finally said softly, "Lord Zhili has come rather urgently."
Within the shadows, a soft mass seemed to stretch and change, yet it never emerged from the darkness. Still, the thing could speak. Its voice was murky, carrying a rattling noise, like stones grinding endlessly against one another:
"Urgent or not, it is still like this. Had I come any later, would you, monk, have been satisfied only after selling us all out?"
"Lord Zhili overstates matters. There was that incident only during the day, yet my lord came seeking me at night. That is rather detrimental to my concealment of identity." Monk Yi Xin answered slowly. Though he seemed to complain, not the slightest ripple touched his tone.
That "Lord Zhili" sneered. "What benefit does your concealment of identity bring me? No, it should be put this way: what use are you to me, or to His Majesty?"
After a brief pause, Zhili's voice lowered somewhat. "People like you are the least