Year 995 of Great Shun. Central Shu, Changle Commandery, Longxing County, Qian Village.
The bitter winter cold bit to the bone. The once bleak autumn winds had sharpened into an unrelenting gale, slashing across the land like invisible blades to cull any lingering signs of life.
Yet, as morning broke, the commoners of Qian Village wrapped their thin clothes tightly around themselves.
They pushed open their doors and braved the bitter frost. Some headed up the mountain to chop wood, while others set off for the nearby Longxing County to try their luck at finding work.
People gathered along the muddy village paths.
No one spoke. Even neighbors merely exchanged brief nods when crossing paths. Opening one’s mouth meant swallowing a lungful of the freezing wind.
A dead silence blanketed the sprawling village. Only the muted footsteps of the peasants and the howling gale echoed through the air.
The entire settlement resembled a frozen beast lying dormant deep within the mountains.
………..
Reaching the village entrance, the crowd dispersed. Some went to the back mountain, others to the county town, and a remaining group headed north.
A Daoist temple stood there.
The temple looked small and rather shabby from the outside. However, a wave of scorching air washed over anyone who approached it.
Inside, a massive incense burner occupied the center of the courtyard. Someone had piled coke stones inside and ignited them, sending up a roaring heat that chased away the winter chill.
The murmur of voices echoing from within made the temple the only pocket of life in this frozen wasteland.
“Ah… that hits the spot!”
Several villagers let out long, satisfied sighs upon entering. Shortly after, a young man draped in a Daoist robe emerged from the backyard.
“Is everyone here?” the young Daoist asked.
“Greetings, Senior Brother Xie.”
The villagers bowed, their expressions burning with an indescribable fanaticism. They intertwined their fingers to form a lotus-shaped hand seal and chanted, “The Lotus descends to the world, delivering all sentient beings.”
The young Daoist formed the same seal and returned the bow before continuing. “Master has been waiting for you all for some time. Follow me inside.”
The group entered the backyard to find over a dozen burly men, all built like young calves. Their physiques made it clear they ate meat three meals a day. They were currently practicing martial arts, throwing punches and shouting with robust energy, freely sweating out their youth.
A young man led their drills.
He stood shirtless, sweat rolling down his back and shoulders. His skin held a bronzed gleam beneath the sun, highlighting his sharp contours and handsome face.
“Junior Brother, pause for a moment,” the young Daoist called out.
The young man didn’t respond. Instead, he stood frozen in place, seemingly lost in his memories, unresponsive for quite some time.
“Junior Brother?” The young Daoist looked on with curiosity.
“…I’m fine.” Wang Ping shook his head, clearing the daze from his eyes. He quickly composed himself and smiled. “The old Master has returned and wants to see us?”
“Yes,” the young Daoist grinned. “Junior Brother, you’ve been organizing the cult members in Qian Village without complaint. You’ve earned a great deal of merit. Master came back just for you. Your good days are finally here!”
Wang Ping immediately plastered a joyous expression on his face.
Deep down, however, he felt nothing. In fact, he almost wanted to laugh. An ancient dynasty? A feudal society? What good days could there possibly be?
Just surviving was a blessing from the heavens.
Twenty years had passed since his transmigration. He had scraped by in this wretched place called Great Shun for two decades, thoroughly blending into the local life.
Barring any accidents, he would end up just like Ergou next door—marry a village woman, have a few kids, work at sunrise, and rest at sunset.
If he managed to live out a peaceful life, he could successfully die on this tiny plot of land around the age of thirty.
When he first crossed over, he had harbored extravagant hopes for a cheat ability. Now, after countless cycles of anger, despair, and self-consolation, he had abandoned such unrealistic delusions.
That being said, Wang Ping didn’t just give up on life. Over the past twenty years, he navigated his surroundings with tact and exhausted every option until he finally landed a job. It allowed him to feed himself and even save a little money.
“Come, everyone gather round.”
The young Daoist waved them over. Wang Ping followed closely behind. Soon, all the people in the temple assembled and solemnly marched toward the main hall in the backyard.
A couplet hung boldly on the pillars flanking the hall:
[The earth upholds the lofty peaks; rivers and mountains endure in everlasting splendor.]
[The gates open upon the boundless sea; the Three Rivers flow for ten thousand years.]
Wang Ping lifted his gaze. Above the entrance hung a horizontal plaque bearing four bold characters:
[Universal Compassion, Salvation for All.]
Right then, an aged voice rang out.
“These are the words our Patriarch left behind as a memorial. He felt inspired by the natural scenery when he first founded our lineage.”
Wang Ping followed the voice and peered inside the hall. A long table occupied the center, loaded with various offerings and a shrine.
Beside it, an old Daoist in a tattered robe leaned against the shrine, casually grabbing offerings from the table and smacking his lips as he ate them.
“Master!” The young Daoist frowned. “You’re eating the Patriarch’s offerings again!”
The old Daoist waved him off. “Can’t be helped. A tyrant rules, and the world is in chaos. We are just trying to survive. I’m sure the Patriarch understands.”
“You still shouldn’t eat the offerings.” The young Daoist shook his head and lowered his voice. “Master, you will regret this.”
“Shut up! I am the Cult Master!”
The old Daoist waved his hand, dismissing the young man to the side. Clearly unwilling to coddle the old man’s temper, the young Daoist turned around and slammed the heavy door shut.
Bang!
As the doors sealed shut, the once-bright hall plunged into sudden gloom. Shadows swallowed most of the old Daoist’s face as he sat by the shrine.
Wang Ping immediately sensed something was wrong. Master and disciple arguing, storming out and slamming the door… It looks like a farce, but they just sealed the hall before anyone could react. If Xie Shi guards the outside, we are literally turtles trapped in a jar.
Wang Ping’s heart leaped into his throat.
“Colleagues,” the old Daoist spoke up, his expression full of emotion. “Twenty years ago, I embarked on my journey right here in Qian Village, raising an army against Great Shun’s tyranny.”
The old man let out a soft sigh. “‘The Lotus descends to the world, delivering all sentient beings.’ How monumental did that slogan sound back then? Was there a single county in Changle Commandery that didn’t answer our call? Wherever the White Lotus Cult went, the masses welcomed us with utmost sincerity. That boundless vitality and fierce momentum still flash before my eyes.”
“However…” The old Daoist shifted his tone. “Just twenty short years later, has this place truly reduced to our burial ground?”
“Cult Master… what do you mean?” someone asked.
“What do I mean?” The old Daoist shook his head, his face growing even more sorrowful. He swept his gaze over the crowd and spoke in a haunting tone. “I have investigated everything thoroughly. There is a traitor among us.”
A traitor?!
An uproar tore through the crowd. Shock painted every face in the hall before the men instinctively scanned their surroundings with scrutinizing eyes.
Realization dawned on some. One man gritted his teeth and spat, “No wonder the White Lotus Cult has suffered so many setbacks in recent years! We had to relocate our branch several times, only to get chased like dogs by the authorities with no power to fight back… It was because we had a traitor on the inside!”
“Investigate! We must conduct a thorough investigation!”
Just then, Wang Ping stood up. Wearing a resolute expression and fervent eyes, he spoke without a shred of hesitation, “Cult Master, please give the order!”
Many eyes snapped toward him.
“Give the order?”
“What order?”
Even the old Daoist by the shrine looked confused, quickly turning curious. “Tell me, Wang Ping. What order do you want me to give?”
Wang Ping scanned the room. His tone remained perfectly calm.
“Let us all kill ourselves.”
The previously bustling hall plunged into extreme, deathly silence. Even the old Daoist gaped slightly, taken aback by the sheer audacity of the words.
Wang Ping paid them no mind and pressed on. “If you had already pinpointed the mole, Cult Master, you wouldn’t have called all of us here. It is obvious that every single one of us is a suspect. Trying to accurately weed out one mole from so many people is like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
“Therefore, we might as well get it done in one step.”
Wang Ping’s tone turned incredibly solemn.
“If all of us commit suicide, the mole naturally dies with us. As for the loyal cult members who die in the process, their souls will ascend to the Home of the True Void.”
“Why wouldn’t we gladly do this?”
“…….”
The silence in the hall grew deafening.
Wang Ping frowned tightly at the reaction. “What’s wrong? Are you not all loyal members of the White Lotus Cult? Since you are loyal, you should not hesitate when it is time to die.”
“Remember, the Cult Master is the most important foundation of the White Lotus Cult. He is the sun to us members. If we die, the sun will still shine upon all creation.”
“But if the sun dies, how could we possibly live?”
“Besides, death only affects our physical bodies. Our souls will enter the Home of the True Void and enjoy eternal life. Why should we be afraid?”
The crowd exchanged glances as Wang Ping finished his speech.
Finally, they looked at him with unspeakable expressions, as if asking:
Wait, do you actually believe all that nonsense about the Home of the True Void?
People die when they are killed!
Seeing that everyone remained speechless, Wang Ping shook his head and drew the short blade from his waist. “If that’s how it is, I’ll go first…”
Swish!
The blade flashed, yet no blood spilled. Right before Wang Ping could slit his own throat and ascend to heaven, another dazzling silver light intercepted him.
“Alright, Little Brother Wang. You are still too extreme.”
The old Daoist offered a mild reprimand and gestured for Wang Ping to sit back down. He then continued, “In any case, we must root out the mole.”
“I have decided to entrust this task to someone who is utterly loyal and reliable.”
The old Daoist looked at Wang Ping and smiled. “Wang Ping, I remember you. When I first left Qian Village to found the White Lotus Cult, you had just been born. I even held you when you were a baby.”
“Out of all the members, aside from Xie Shi, you are the one I trust the most.”
“You will take charge of this investigation.”
Wang Ping immediately jumped to his feet, shouting excitedly, “I guarantee I will complete…”
Suddenly, as if realizing something, the old Daoist hastily added, “Do not slaughter the innocent indiscriminately! I want to see concrete evidence pointing to the mole.”
“…Oh.” Wang Ping sat back down, his face entirely devoid of emotion.
The old Daoist felt somewhat helpless seeing Wang Ping’s deflated posture and shifted the topic. “From today onward, you are the Branch Leader of our Qian Village branch.”
“Understood.” Wang Ping respectfully bowed.
Since he had to investigate the mole, restricting everyone’s movement naturally became the first step. The group found themselves under house arrest in the main hall. Only Wang Ping had permission to leave temporarily.
“You’ve been practicing martial arts all morning, haven’t eaten yet, right?”
Outside the hall, the young Daoist Xie Shi stood guard exactly as expected. If the mole had actually tried to break out just now, Xie Shi would have been waiting to strike them down.
“Come, I’ll take you to get something to eat,” Xie Shi offered enthusiastically.
“I’ll have to trouble you then, Eldest Senior Brother,” Wang Ping cupped his hands and spoke casually. “Let’s stop by my house first. To dig out the mole, I’m afraid I’ll inevitably need some interrogation tools…”
“Sure thing!” Xie Shi agreed effortlessly.
The two quickly departed the temple and arrived at a courtyard compound in the northwest corner of Qian Village. This was Wang Ping’s home.
Five years ago, this place was merely a thatched hut.
After he joined the White Lotus Cult under the recommendation of a village elder, the thatched hut slowly upgraded into a brick house, and eventually into this large compound.
Now, he had even become a Branch Leader.
With this status, he never had to worry about food, even during the harsh winter. Meat with every meal became a standard, and he could occasionally afford to splurge in the neighboring county town.
In this chaotic world, he practically qualified as a local wealthy landlord.
There was just one tiny problem.
Wang Ping led Xie Shi into the courtyard and urged him to take a seat. He then stepped into the woodshed, only to see a fat, black rat squeeze out from a hole in the corner of the wall.
The rat’s eyes gleamed brightly. Its tiny claws were stained with soot, and it fluently scratched a line of text onto the floor:
【Meet at the grass market outside the city tomorrow at Shen hour.】
“……..”
Wang Ping glanced at the message before swiftly kicking the rat away, simultaneously wiping the soot writing off the floor with his foot.
This was the tiny problem with him:
He was the very mole the old Daoist had been talking about.
Translator’s Note:
Shen hour (申时) corresponds to 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM