My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 176: The White Ring at the Scabbard Mouth

At the Wu hour on the first day of the sixth month, the doors of the stone chambers at the far end of the stone plaza opened one by one.

The Heavenly Sword Sect people went in and out. There wasnʼt much to carry—ten bundles had been tied up long ago, slung over shoulders one by one, knots facing outward. One disciple crouched at the doorway, retied his rope, stood up, turned to look back into the chamber, and pulled the door shut. On the stone by the door still sat half a bundle of rusted iron, wrapped in cloth, the cord loose at the mouth. No one went back for it.

Qi Qi stood on the rock by the pool, finished his count before he spoke: ”Ten. All carrying.”

Bai Xiaoman walked over, looking where he looked: ”Theyʼre not coming back?”

”Done turning it over,” Qi Qi said. ”They went through every one of those stone chambers, turned out a few pieces of rusted iron, wrapped half a bundle, left it on the stone by the door.”

Shi Po crouched by the water soaking his flatbread, looked up: ”Rusted is still sword.”

Cheng Banshan leaned against the rock wall, one hand cinching the medicine pouch tighter at his waist: ”Rusted doesnʼt count.”

”That half bundle of rusted iron—take it or not?” Shi Po asked.

”They picked it up from their own doorway and left it there,” Xu Yan said. ”We donʼt touch it.”

Shao Ming sat at the entrance of his stone chamber, also looking that way: ”The second level has other stone chambers.”

”Further that way, each oneʼs emptier than the last,” Cheng Banshan said.

The ten of them came over in a line. Wei Changge walked last, his sword across his back, the sword-wrapping cloth still tied with those same two knots. He passed the edge of the stone plaza, eyes fixed on the path ahead, his stride never wavering. Once past this end of the plaza, the line turned into the path beyond and vanished one by one, until even the sword on the last manʼs back was gone.

After the footsteps faded, wind came in through the mouth of that path, pushing a few dry leaves across the stone floor.

”Two days of searching, and not a single whole sword. They even felt along every crack in the rock,” Bai Xiaoman said.

”Thatʼs how people looking for things are,” Shao Ming said. ”Whether thereʼs anything to feel or not, youʼve got to run your hand over it all.”

Cheng Banshan patted his medicine pouch: ”What you can feel is rust.”

”And what you canʼt feel?” Bai Xiaoman asked.

Cheng Banshan didnʼt answer her. He leaned his head back against the rock wall.

Jiang Wan was still leaning in the doorframe: ”Good riddance. These past few days someoneʼs been standing at that door all the time, watching Huo Qing practice his sword.”

Huo Qing was at the flat stone by the pool, practicing that one thrust. Thrust, then withdraw. His left shoulder stayed still when he started; his wrist stayed straight when he pulled back. The Heavenly Sword Sect people passed within a dozen paces of him, and he didnʼt stop, didnʼt look up.

The youngest disciple walking in the middle glanced back at Huo Qing, didnʼt break stride, and followed the column on its way.

Jiang Wan watched them all go, then said: ”Those two knots of his. Heʼs worn them since the Grand Tournament.”

Xu Yan grunted.

On the twenty-eighth, when Wei Changge had sheathed his sword and walked back to his side of the plaza, he hadnʼt looked this way again. Today was the same. Since that time at the wharf, Huo Qing had never once mentioned this man in front of Xu Yan; after losing that match on the twenty-eighth, he hadnʼt mentioned him either. Lost, and still trained before dawn just the same. Xu Yan didnʼt ask. He just kept these things in his heart.

Qi Qi followed them out a ways and returned from the path beyond the plaza: ”They turned in and went out of sight.”

”Donʼt follow too far,” Xu Yan said.

”I followed until I could still see them, then came back,” Qi Qi said. ”They were in a hurry. Hardly said a word the whole way.”

Shao Ming finished the flatbread in his hand, brushed the crumbs from his fingers: ”This time he left without a single word.”

”What would he leave?” Cheng Banshan said. ”Heʼs not here for a social call.”

Xu Yan stood in the doorway and ran through the remaining days again: sealing the gate was only a few days off; Qian Duoduoʼs flatbread could cover one more trip; the water flasks had been filled that morning; ten people, not one missing. The Heavenly Sword Sect had gone elsewhere on the second level—that end theyʼd already searched and found nothing. What they were looking for wasnʼt there.

Huo Qing had been even quieter these past few days—training in the morning, at midday, still training as the light dimmed. He said nothing except what concerned the sword. Before midday, Jiang Wan had soaked her wrist in the pool water until the light stood directly overhead, water dripping from her sleeve. She didnʼt mention it herself; Cheng Banshan stood at the stone chamber door for a while and also said nothing. Xu Yan noted both things, and mentioned neither.

In the afternoon, Shi Po went out to the stone plaza for pillar training, legs spread, standing for nearly half a shichen. Shao Ming sat at the door watching: ”Donʼt let the knees turn outward.” Shi Po pulled his knees in, held the stance, let his shoulders drop. Wind came through the pathʼs mouth and sent pebbles skittering across the plaza.

At the You hour, the daylight slanted into the stone chamber, landing on the inner wall and creeping downward inch by inch. Qian Duoduo spread out the bundle and broke flatbread piece by piece: first said one piece each, then after breaking gathered the crumbled bits into a pile, picked them up crumb by crumb back into the bundle, counted heads, and broke off the softest piece to soak in water, brought it to Jiang Wan. The rest were all hard; everyone soaked their own at the waterʼs edge.

Xu Yan brushed the bread crumbs from his hands and looked up: ”The second, we go down.”

The stone chamber went quiet. No one asked what was down there.

Shao Ming set down his flatbread first: ”All right.”

Cheng Banshan wrapped the medicine pouch strap one more turn around his waist and cinched it: ”Before we go down, anyone feeling off—speak first.” He lifted his chin toward Jiang Wan. ”That wrist worked today.”

”Itʼs fine,” Jiang Wan said.

”Worked is worked. Going down tomorrow, donʼt go full force right out of the gate.”

Jiang Wan didnʼt answer.

Bai Xiaoman folded the four formation banners and wrapped them in cloth; she counted the five pebbles one by one into a separate cloth pouch, tied the mouth shut, and tucked it up her sleeve. She counted aloud as she did, and when she was done squeezed the pouch once more, afraid the cord had come loose.

”You watch the path down,” Xu Yan said to her. ”If you see something off, say it first. Donʼt reach for it yourself.”

”Mm,” Bai Xiaoman said. ”I wonʼt touch.”

Qian Duoduo wrapped up the remaining flatbread and knotted it: ”Enough for one trip. Two meals a day, one piece each—Iʼve noted who got an extra half piece.”

”Iʼll fill the water flasks,” Du Xiaochuan said, gathering everyoneʼs flasks and heading to the pool.

”I walk point,” Shi Po said.

Jiang Wan said: ”I walk last.”

Xu Yan said: ”I walk last.”

Jiang Wan glanced his way and struck the ground with the pommel of her sword: ”Fine. You count.”

”Iʼll count the whole way to wherever we go,” Xu Yan said. ”Shi Po and Bai Xiaoman in front, Elder Cheng in the middle, Huo Qing a little behind Shi Po. Anyone who canʼt keep up, call out and step aside—donʼt force it. No need to carry every bundle down. This chamber stays put; we come back and rest here.”

”What if we run into people from other sects?” Shao Ming asked.

”Each goes their own way,” Xu Yan said. ”The rules say each keeps what they find—no one may seize what another holds. Our people donʼt reach for anything, and we donʼt touch what belongs to others.”

Shao Ming nodded and didnʼt ask further.

Cheng Banshan shifted the oilcloth-wrapped ledger pages closer against his chest: ”Iʼll carry these.”

”Fire starters are on me,” Xu Yan said. ”We wonʼt light them on the road; when we need them, Iʼll blow.”

Huo Qing picked up his sword from the ground and set it by his hand: ”Shi Po lifts his foot, I follow.”

”Mm,” Xu Yan said.

”Whatʼs in the medicine pouch is enough for the road,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Only thereʼs no wine.”

”When we get out, Iʼll fetch you a gourd,” Qian Duoduo said.

”Youʼll fetch wine? Whereʼs the money coming from?” Cheng Banshan said.

Qian Duoduo opened his mouth, then turned to look at Xu Yan.

”From me,” Xu Yan said. ”One gourd.”

Qian Duoduo brightened at once and started counting on his fingers how many bowls a gourd would pour. Halfway through, Bai Xiaoman pressed his hand down: ”First weigh out tomorrowʼs flatbread.”

”If thereʼs a place down there to cook, Iʼd cook right now,” Qian Duoduo said.

”No fires down there,” Cheng Banshan said. ”Flatbread is flatbread.”

Qian Duoduo sheepishly slung the bundle across his back, then thought of one more thing: ”Then what about the day we leave?”

”That day you fry up a full pot,” Bai Xiaoman said. ”First pot goes to whoeverʼs hungriest. No one cheats.”

”Bring enough flatbread,” Xu Yan said. ”When the path runs out, we come back. Everyoneʼs up before the gate seals.”

At the Xu hour, the light withdrew from the doorway, and the pool surface turned white.

Shi Po and Qi Qi spread their bedrolls on the floor toward the back, heads to the wall.

”Tomorrow youʼre up front,” Qi Qi said. ”Iʼll walk right behind you, lifting my foot when you do.”

”Mm,” Shi Po said.

The two of them fell silent within moments.

Du Xiaochuan came back with the filled water flasks and set them in a row by the door against the wall, then nudged them further in so no one would trip over them in the night. He moved his own bundle closer to the wall and lay down beside Cheng Banshan.

Cheng Banshan crouched in front of Jiang Wan, three fingers of one hand pressed to her left wrist for a while: ”No more heat.”

”Told you itʼs fine,” Jiang Wan said.

”The wrist isnʼt hot. Press your own ribs.” Cheng Banshan stood, tucked his empty sleeve behind his back, and sat down by the wall.

Bai Xiaoman sat outside the threshold and, in the last of the light, placed the five pebbles. Four pressed into the earth, forming a small circle; the fifth, held between her fingers, went out and landed half a fingerʼs width off.

Jiang Wan stood beside her watching: ”Hand.”

Bai Xiaoman loosened her grip a little and sent it again. The fifth pebble landed in the center of the four—exactly.

”Do it ten more times,” Jiang Wan said. ”Until your hand loosens and it goes in on its own.”

Bai Xiaoman nodded, picked up the five pebbles one by one, wrapped them up, and held the bundle in her arms without setting it down.

Huo Qing sat on the flat stone at the chamber door, sword across his knees. He drew a cloth from his waist and wiped from the scabbard mouth downward. When he reached the oiled crack on the blade, he gave it two extra passes. Done, he slid the sword back into its wooden scabbard—the scabbard mouth was worn white, and that ring of white was visible even in the dark.

”Tomorrow, follow Shi Po,” Xu Yan said.

”Mm,” Huo Qing said.

After a moment, he added: ”Iʼm bringing the sword.”

Xu Yan grunted, didnʼt ask what he meant by that.

Jiang Wan sat down on the threshold, sword across her knees: ”Going down on the second. How many days do you plan to count?”

”Count until we come back up.”

”Coming back up, it has to be ten people.”

”Ten people,” Xu Yan said.

She said nothing more. After sitting a while, she lifted her sword, went into the chamber, set it by her bedroll with the hilt facing inward, and ran her hand once over the sheath.

Cheng Banshan lay down, the medicine pouch still at his waist. He turned over and said toward the door: ”Little Xu, you sleep too. You still have to get up at the Chou hour.”

At the Hai hour, the stone chamber went pitch dark. Xu Yan lay in the spot by the door, his back to the darkness within, listening to each personʼs breathing slow—through the sound of Qian Duoduo grinding his teeth, Shi Po letting out a long breath, Du Xiaochuanʼs clothes scraping the floor as he turned over.

”Call me when itʼs light tomorrow,” Qian Duoduo mumbled from the dark, thick-tongued. ”Flatbread... soak it soft.”

No one answered him.

Xu Yan ran through the count once more in his mind: ten people, ten water flasks, one bundle of flatbread, a stack of ledger pages, four formation banners, five pebbles, one sword that was Jiang Wanʼs, one at Huo Qingʼs side. Finished, he pressed his chest—through two layers of cloth, the ledger was there, and that page too, digging into his palm.

He didnʼt take it out.

Outside the stone chamber, not a sound rose from the poolʼs surface.