# Chapter 156: The People's Hearts Are Like Water; I Am the River God
In Zhuang Kingdom's new capital, Xin'an City, before the Shrine Hall of the founding emperor, an old man with streaks of grey in his hair knelt long upon the cold flagstones and would not rise.
Few in all the vast city recognized him. But once, in the old territory of Fenglin City, nearly everyone had known him, for he was the Lord of Fenglin City who had governed before Wei Quji. His rule had been mild and diligent. While he sat in command of the Fenglin City Territory, his own feet had walked through every town and village under his care—a thing Wei Quji had never managed, nor any other city lord of Zhuang. It was he who, when the thirteen-year-old Du Yehu killed a man openly in the courtroom, personally oversaw the reversal of that verdict and sent the boy into a Dao academy; and so it was that there arose, in the Jiujiang Profound Armor of today, the Commander Du whose name was slowly rising.
During his years in the territory, he was deeply loved by army and people alike. Later, feeling age and weakness upon him, unable to hold his cultivation firm, he stepped down of his own will to rest. In all his life he had neither son nor daughter, neither kin nor disciple. Back when Zhuang Gaoxian marched to conquer Yong, he had earned signal merit in battle, and for his services was granted the governance of Fenglin City—taking not a single coin for himself, offering his whole life, then returning the city to the nation.
And now the Fenglin City Territory was gone. Not a dog, not a chicken, not even a handful of soil remained.
It was said the White Bone Path had risen in revolt. A heretic sect that had lain dormant for a hundred years—how could it have gathered such power all at once? What had the Zhuang Kingdom's Bureau of Coercion and Execution been doing? Why had it detected nothing in advance? Why had everyone in the territory died to the last soul, yet Dong A alone survived? Why had Dong A, who saw through the conspiracy, so far outstripped the celebrated Grand Mentor Du Ruhui, famed across all kingdoms for spanning earth and sky before the day was out—and still been unable to arrive in time?
Why—
The court of Zhuang's explanation might have convinced every man in the world. Not because it was flawless, but only because none of the others were of the Fenglin City Territory. Only because the territory had no one left! Only he, Liu Yian, remained—this one withered body, this failing life, still struggling onward.
But he asked the Grand Mentor, and the Grand Mentor hid from his sight. He asked the King, and the King kept himself locked deep in the palace. He asked the assembled ministers, and none would even heed him. Who would answer a man who could never rise again, a man of failing breath whose cultivation had collapsed, without the least power to fight? Especially one so obstinate who, while all Zhuang flourished, insisted on tearing open the rotten sore.
Liu Yian, now a commoner without rank, moved alone through Xin'an, pressing his questions for nine whole days. Nine days without an answer. No one heeded him. On the tenth day, he knelt before the Shrine Hall. He would ask the Founding Emperor himself: if the ancestor still lived, and saw what had come to pass today, would he too hold his tongue in silence?
"The sovereign is a boat; the people are water. Water can bear the boat aloft, and water can overturn it!"
He wept aloud before the Shrine Hall, helpless as a child.
Outside the Shrine Hall, at the turning of the long street across the way, stood Dong A, Deputy Minister of Zhuang, hands folded into his sleeves, silent.
Beyond the old site of the Fenglin City Territory, Du Ruhui, his hair black as ink, stood with arms at his sides. There was age on his face, but his spine stood straight as a spear. In all of Zhuang there was but one man who could command such respect from him—Zhuang Gaoxian, lord of the Zhuang Kingdom. A middle-aged man of placid countenance, he studied the mist-shrouded territory. He looked like no more than a wealthy gentleman out on a spring stroll. Nothing in his appearance hinted that here was a man so decisive in slaughter, whose hardness in matters of state surpassed every ruler Zhuang had known.
After a while, Zhuang Gaoxian smiled: "Teacher, this time you have truly struck the Venerated Bones Deity a painful blow. He meant to drag this place down into the Netherworld, yet stopped halfway. He has let the Fenglin City Territory sink into the chasm between this world and the Netherworld, making a dead land of it—neither letting the Netherworld swallow it, nor letting our Zhuang lands be free of this scar forever. To harm himself to no profit—you can see how deep his fury runs."
Had the territory been dragged into the Netherworld at once, this tract would have been wiped away, and its neighbors across the Qichang Range, the territories of Wangjiang and Sanshan, would in time have forgotten it. But wedged now in the seam between worlds, the Venerated Bones Deity burned his divine power to no profit, while Zhuang was left forever with a dead place that made every onlooker recall this history.
Even before Zhuang Gaoxian became heir apparent, Du Ruhui had been his teacher; after his accession, there was never a second choice for Grand Mentor.
"Your Majesty." Du Ruhui bowed: "This old minister has heard that the sagely sovereigns of antiquity rejoiced when the people were at peace, and wept when they suffered. Outside the old site of Fenglin City Territory, it is not proper for you to smile. That the Lord of Zhuang has set foot in the True Cave is the glory of Zhuang—but to achieve this realm at the cost of his own people is his shame. Moreover, those souls who can never find rest lie even now before Your Majesty's eyes."
"Gaoxian stands instructed." The Emperor of Zhuang at once composed himself: "It is true—I caught up with that old wretch of Yong, and seeing the borders free of trouble and the people at peace, I let myself forget my place."
Zhuang Gaoxian's cultivation had now surpassed his teacher's, yet he still kept a student's reverence. And Du Ruhui, hearing this, neither pressed the matter nor let himself take comfort; he let the topic slip gently away.
"Your Majesty may raise a commemorative stele before the borders of this territory. Upon it, set down the fault of losing this land, and record it as a grievance of the nation. Re-establish the extirpation of the White Bone Path as a policy of the realm, a vow to comfort these restless souls. In this way you may soothe the people's anger, win their hearts, and gather their will."
Zhuang Gaoxian praised it to the utmost: "Words of gold and jade!" The last time Zhuang had made that its policy was under his ancestor, the Founding Father Zhuang Chengqian. Today the risen Path was far less formidable, yet to re-establish this policy would still awaken the people's memory—declaring at once a devotion to the ancestral institutions and an unbreakable resolve against the White Bone Path. All resentment would be drawn onto the Path; once it was rooted out, Zhuang Gaoxian would not be cursed for the loss of the territory, but would win the people's hearts by personally avenging the nation's grievance.
Du Ruhui moved his pieces like rain in spring wind, his handiwork seasoned and smooth—a principal reason he could hold the court together while Zhuang Gaoxian recovered from his wound.
"You have seen the Formation of No Birth, No Extinction. What does Your Majesty intend next?"
Zhuang Gaoxian flicked his sleeve lightly: "Since I have come to Qinghe Commandery, how could I not go to the Clear River to pay my respects to the elders?"
Since leaving the You Kingdom behind, Jiang Wang had pressed on, heading toward Qi. The Heaven-Blessed State had been but one leg of his journey; he had his own road to tread. More important than haste was the tempering of his sword, his body, and his heart along the way. Taking heaven and earth as the furnace, the red dust of the world as the fire, and his own body as the copper, he moved from the minor Zhou Heavenly circulation toward the Major. When he met a mountain he climbed it; a river he forded; an inn he rested at; and injustice—he drew his long sword. The road beneath his feet grew ever longer, and the path of cultivation ever wider.
Gradually he began to feel a change taking hold. It was as though a road hidden behind clouds and mist was coming clearer and firmer with each step.