That was when Zen realized the water held no reflection. The mountains, the cliffs, his own face—they were all missing from the river’s looking-glass surface.
Where was this? He hadn’t sensed any semblance of a Gate Seal on the pái’fang…no, the Seal craft had been different from anything he’d come across at the School of the White Pines. This didn’tfeellike a different location, for they were the same mountains and the same pái’fang.
This felt like…a realm conjured by the type of old magic that had led him to the palace of immortals. A Boundary Seal woven of the qì of souls, of the otherworld.
His school had taught standard principles of Hin practitioning as dictated by the imperial decrees of the Middle Kingdom; so much more of this world and its secrets had been lost totime and conquest. Principles of practitioning that bordered on the mystical and magical, like the world of the immortals’ souls he had entered on the Öshangma Light Mountain.
This place would be one of those secrets.
Lotuses grew from the river’s surface, swaying gently in an unseen breeze. Their petals were as white as snow, wrapped around golden seeds that glowed like sunlight. Yáng energies emanated from them. These were the lotuses from the pái’fang’s illustration.
Zen knelt at the riverbank.A river of death composed solely of yin,the immortal soul had said,balanced by flowers of life composed only of yáng.
There was no doubt the Seeds of Clarity grew on these lotuses. They were too far away for him to reach; he would have to swim to them.
He removed his boots and páo and, after some hesitation, Nightfire. His practitioner’s storage pouch, however, he kept at his waist.
Feeling vulnerable, he drew a breath and waded into the water.
It was as cold as ice. He’d expected something to happen—another river demon to burst from the currents, perhaps, or an ancient Seal to trigger. But the water did not even ripple as he moved through it.
Zen approached the first lotus and reached out.
That was when the ghosts emerged. They appeared as shapes beneath the river’s surface: skin pallid and hair drifting like seaweed. Their whispers overlapped. A mist had risen ahead over the water; within was a silhouette, growing steadily darker.
“What you see is not real.”
Zen stumbled back. That voice—he would have recognized it anywhere. Its owner materialized from the mist. He worethe same white páo as always, same calm expression with a hint of a smile. His hair was the same black streaked with gray.
Dé’zicame to a stop across from Zen. It was clear from the way his edges shimmered and his robes dissolved into the water that he was an illusion, some conjuring of Zen’s imagination. Still, Zen had the urge to prostrate himself at the grandmaster’s feet and beg for forgiveness.
He remained rooted where he was, studying the grandmaster’s form. “You are not my shi’fù.” He couldn’t help the slight crack to his voice on the last word.
“No,”the spirit agreed.“I am not. Your consciousness—the qì of your mind—has merely sculpted me in this form.”
Zen could see the cracks in the apparition ofDé’zi.A small mole on the grandmaster’s ear was missing; a scar on his hand was not quite in the right shape; the threads of his collar and samite belt looked roughly woven rather than fine.
As Zen noted these differences, they shifted to correct themselves in an uncanny fashion. Still, the apparition’s expression and the way it moved and spoke were off.
“What are you, then?” Zen asked.
“A guardian of this river.”
Zen’s gaze flicked to the golden lotus seeds gleaming just out of his reach. “I seek the Seeds of Clarity,” he said.
The river guardian studied him. The wind rippled, and Zen thought he sensed the faint taste of yin in the currents.“Why?”
“To strengthen my core of qì, so that I may command the power of the Demon God bound to me.” He watched the river guardian’s face carefully, but it yielded as little information as his former master’s ever did. The spirit’s long robes flowed like a waterfall.
“The Seeds of Clarity will strengthen your core. But that comes at a great price.”
The Yuè immortal’s warning curled in Zen’s mind:The Seeds of Clarity are at once a cure and a curse…a double-edged sword, just like the power you hold.
“Name it,” Zen said.
The apparition blinked.“What is it you live for, Xan Temurezen?”
Zen did not ask how it knew his name.
