A Traitor Among Us!

In the year 995 of Great Shun, in Former Village, Longxing County, Changle Commandery, Shu Region.

Winter was bitterly cold. The bleak autumn wind had grown harsher by the day, like invisible blades hacking away at the life upon the earth.

Even so, at dawn, the Blackheads of Former Village wrapped their clothes tighter, pushed open their doors, and stepped out into the biting cold. Some were set on climbing the mountain to chop firewood; others hoped to try their luck in nearby Longxing County and find work.

People converged on the muddy village road.

No one spoke. Even neighbors merely nodded when they met, because opening their mouths would let the icy wind rush in.

The vast village was silent as a grave.

Only the Blackheads' muted footsteps and the wind's fierce howl could be heard. The village seemed like a beast frozen to death, crouched deep in the mountain forest.

At the village entrance, the crowd scattered. Some headed for the mountain behind the village, some for the county town, and others went north.

A Daoist temple stood there.

The temple looked small, even shabby, but as they approached, a wave of scorching air washed over their faces.

Inside, an enormous incense burner stood in the center. Great quantities of charcoal were thrown into it and set alight, sending heat surging skyward and driving off the winter chill. The voices within made the temple the only place that seemed alive in this bitter season.

"Ah... that feels good!"

Several villagers stepped inside and let out long, contented sighs. Then a young man in Daoist robes emerged from the rear courtyard.

"Is everyone here?" the young Dao Practitioner asked.

"Greetings, Senior Brother Xie."

The villagers bowed, their faces alight with an indescribable fervor. They intertwined their fingers into a lotus-shaped seal and chanted:

"The lotus descends upon the world to deliver all living beings."

The young Dao Practitioner formed the same seal and returned their greeting before saying, "Master has been waiting for you. Follow me."

They entered the rear courtyard. There, more than a dozen men in their prime, built like young bulls and clearly fed meat at every meal, were practicing martial arts. They punched and shouted with full-throated vigor, pouring out sweat and youthful energy.

A young man was leading them.

His upper body was bare, sweat rolling down his shoulders and back. His skin gleamed bronze in the sunlight, his features sharply defined and handsome.

"Junior Brother, stop for a moment," the young Dao Practitioner called. But the young man did not answer. He stood frozen, seemingly lost in memory, and did not come to himself for some time.

"Junior Brother?" The young Dao Practitioner looked puzzled.

"...It's nothing."

Wang Ping shook his head, clearing the bewilderment from his eyes. He quickly pulled himself together and smiled. "Master's back, and he wants to see us?"

"That's right."

The young Dao Practitioner smiled. "You've been organizing the believers in Former Village without a word of complaint. You've done a great deal, Junior Brother. Master came back for you."

"Your good days are about to begin!"

Delight spread across Wang Ping's face.

Deep down, however, he felt nothing. He almost wanted to laugh. An ancient dynasty, a feudal society—what good days could there be?

Just staying alive was a blessing from heaven.

Twenty years had passed since he arrived in this world. He had spent all twenty scraping by in this wretched place called Great Shun, until he had become completely accustomed to life here.

Barring a miracle, he would do what Ergou next door had done: find a wife in the village, have a few children, work from sunrise to sunset, and rest when the sun went down. If he lived out his days safely, he might succeed in dying on this little patch of land at around thirty.

When he had first arrived, he had hoped for some miraculous advantage.

But after countless bouts of anger, despair, and attempts to talk himself around, he had abandoned that unrealistic fantasy.

That did not mean Wang Ping had given up.

Over twenty years, he had cultivated connections wherever he could and tried every means available. At last, he had found a position that let him support himself and save a little besides.

"Come on, everyone, gather round."

At the young Dao Practitioner's call, Wang Ping followed him. Soon everyone in the temple had assembled and entered the main hall of the rear courtyard with solemn expressions.

On the pillars flanking the hall hung a couplet:

[The earth shakes upon the high ridge; streams and mountains bloom in beauty for a thousand ages.]

[The gate faces the great sea; three rivers flow together for ten thousand years.]

Wang Ping looked up and saw a four-character inscription above the door:

[Boundless Compassion and Salvation]

Just then, an aged voice spoke.

"When the founding master established our lineage, the sight of heaven and earth moved him to leave those words behind. They serve as a memorial, too."

Wang Ping turned toward the voice. In the hall stood an offering table laden with tributes and a shrine. Beside it, an old Daoist priest in a threadbare robe leaned against the shrine, helping himself to the offerings and smacking his lips as he ate.

"Master!" The young Dao Practitioner frowned. "You're eating the founding master's offerings again!"

The old priest waved a hand. "What can I do? A foolish ruler governs, the realm is in chaos, and we have to make a living. The founding master would understand."

"You still shouldn't eat the offerings." The young Dao Practitioner shook his head and lowered his voice. "Master, you'll regret this."

"Quiet. I'm the sect leader!"

With that, the old priest waved him aside. The young Dao Practitioner, plainly unwilling to indulge him, turned and slammed the door shut.

Bang!

As the door closed, the bright hall abruptly dimmed. Darkness swallowed most of the old priest's face beside the shrine.

Wang Ping instantly sensed that something was wrong. A quarrel between master and disciple, a door slammed shut... It looked like a farce, but before anyone could react, they'd sealed the hall. If Xie Shi's lying in wait outside, we're turtles trapped in a jar.

Wang Ping's heart crept into his throat.

"My fellow believers."

The old priest spoke, his expression wistful. "Twenty years ago, I set out from Former Village and raised an army against Great Shun's tyranny."

He sighed. "'The lotus descends upon the world to deliver all living beings.' How mighty that rallying cry was! What county town in Changle Commandery failed to answer us? Wherever the White Lotus Sect went, the people welcomed us with all their hearts. I can still see that boundless vitality, all things bursting into life."

"But..."

His tone shifted. "After a mere twenty years, has this place truly changed into our burial ground?"

"Sect Leader... what do you mean?" someone asked.

"What do I mean?"

The old priest shook his head, grief deepening on his face. He looked across the crowd and said quietly, "I've confirmed it. There is a traitor among us."

A traitor!?

An uproar broke out. Everyone in the hall looked stunned, then instinctively glanced around, scrutinizing one another.

Some looked as though they had finally understood. One said bitterly, "No wonder the White Lotus Sect has suffered setback after setback these past few years. We've moved our branch hall again and again, yet the authorities still drive us around like dogs, and we can't fight back... So there was a traitor in our midst!"

"We must investigate! A thorough investigation!"

Wang Ping rose. His face was resolute, his eyes burning with zeal. "Sect Leader, give the order!"

Many turned to look at him.

"Give the order?"

"What order?"

Even the old priest beside the shrine looked puzzled. Then he asked curiously, "Tell me, Wang Ping. What order do you want me to give?"

Wang Ping surveyed the room. His voice was calm.

"Let's all kill ourselves."

The hall, bustling with voices a moment before, fell into utter silence. Even the old priest's mouth parted in surprise.

Wang Ping paid it no mind. "If you'd identified the spy, Sect Leader, you wouldn't have summoned all of us here. Clearly, we're all suspects. But picking out the spy from so many people would be like searching for a needle in the sea."

"So let's settle it in one step."

His voice turned utterly solemn.

"If we all kill ourselves, the spy dies too. As for the loyal believers who die alongside the spy, they can enter the Vacuum Homeland after death."

"What's not to like?"

"..."

The silence in the hall grew deafening.

Wang Ping frowned. "What's wrong? Aren't you all loyal believers of the White Lotus Sect? If you are, you can't hesitate when it's time to die."

"Remember, the most important person in the White Lotus Sect is the sect leader. He is our sun. If we die, the sun can still shine upon all things."

"But if the sun dies, how can we live?"

"Besides, death affects only our bodies. Our souls will enter the Vacuum Homeland and enjoy eternal life. What is there to fear?"

When Wang Ping finished, everyone exchanged glances.

At last, they looked at him as though asking, Wait, you actually believe that nonsense about the Vacuum Homeland?

People die when they're killed!

When no one spoke, Wang Ping shook his head and drew the short knife at his waist. "In that case, I'll go first..."

Swish—!

A blade flashed, but no blood spilled. An instant before Wang Ping could cut his own throat, another dazzling silver flash stopped him.

"That's enough, young Wang. You're taking this too far."

The old priest delivered the mild rebuke and told Wang Ping to sit down. Then he continued, "In any case, we must root out the spy."

"I've decided to entrust the task to someone loyal and trustworthy."

The old priest looked at Wang Ping and smiled.

"Wang Ping, I remember you. When I left Former Village to found the White Lotus Sect, you had only just been born. I even held you when you were little."

"Apart from Xie Shi, there's no believer I trust more."

"You'll take charge of this."

Wang Ping sprang to his feet, excited. "I guarantee I'll—"

As though remembering something, the old priest hurriedly added, "Don't kill the innocent indiscriminately. I want conclusive evidence linking anyone you accuse to the spy."

"...Oh."

Wang Ping sat down, his face blank.

The old priest looked helpless at the sight, then changed the subject. "From this day forward, you'll be the hall master of our Former Village branch."

"As you command."

Wang Ping bowed respectfully.

Since they were hunting a spy, everyone's movements had to be restricted. All the others were confined to the hall; only Wang Ping was permitted to leave for the time being.

"You've been practicing martial arts all morning. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Sure enough, Xie Shi was waiting outside the hall. Had the spy tried to rush through the door, Xie Shi would have cut him down.

"Come on, let me get you something to eat," Xie Shi offered warmly.

"Sorry for the trouble, Senior Brother." Wang Ping cupped his hands and said casually, "Why don't we stop by my house first? If we're going to find the spy, we'll probably need some interrogation tools..."

"Sure!"

Xie Shi agreed readily. They left the temple at a brisk pace and reached a residence in the northwest corner of Former Village. It was Wang Ping's home.

Five years ago, it had been nothing but a thatched hut.

After a village elder introduced him to the White Lotus Sect five years earlier, the hut had gradually become a brick-and-stone house, then a large residence.

Now he had become a hall master, too.

With that position, he no longer had to worry about food even in winter. Meat with every meal was standard, and he could occasionally spend money in the neighboring county town.

By the standards of these times, he was a local man of means.

There was just one small problem.

Wang Ping led Xie Shi into the residence and invited him to sit. Then he went to the woodshed, where a fat black rat suddenly emerged from a hole in the corner.

Its eyes were bright, and charcoal dust clung to its toes. On the ground, it neatly wrote a line:

[Meet at the Grass Market outside the city tomorrow at the hour of the monkey.]

"..."

Wang Ping glanced at it, then kicked the rat away and wiped the charcoal writing from the floor. This was his little problem:

He was the spy the old priest had spoken of.