Liu Mo · chat.title

At the entrance of Moyuan Valley stood a bluestone slab. Carved upon it were three characters, traced so finely that they resembled the trail left by a slithering snake. There were no guards at the entrance. None were needed. Anyone living near the border of the three provinces knew the Master of Moyuan Valley detested having people loitering at his doorstep. Those seeking an audience walked in on their own. Those who shouldn't have entered never walked out. On that particular day, the visitor was a young man clad in the robes of an outer sect disciple from the Xuantian Sect. Cradling a jade casket in his arms, his face was fraught with the nervous strain of someone "running an errand of grave importance for his sect." It took him nearly half an hour to walk from the valley entrance to the hall of assembly, yet he didn't encounter a single demon along the way. Even so, he would later recount the nagging sensation that unseen eyes had been watching him from the underbrush flanking the path. The assembly hall was not large. Behind a stone desk sat a figure in wide-sleeved robes of blackish-green, hair secured by a plain wooden hairpin, head bowed as he perused a jade slip. When the youth walked in, he did not look up. Only after turning the page in his hand did he speak, unhurriedly: "The Xuantian Sect." "This disciple is an outer deacon of the Xuantian Sect, here under the orders of the Elder—" "Sit." The young man sat. Placing the jade casket onto the stone desk, he pushed it forward. "The Elder said that once the matter is resolved, the contents within this casket belong to the Valley Master." Liu Mo didn't glance at the box. Instead, he stared at the youth's chin. He looked long enough that a chill crept up the young man's spine before finally reaching out to open the casket. Inside rested a piece of meteoric iron, pristine silver from edge to edge, glinting with a frigid sheen. He lifted it, turned it over once, and set it back down. "Something like this... I saw an identical piece at the North Sea last year." The young man's expression twisted. "Im—impossible! The Elder said this is a singular piece from the heavens—" "The one at the North Sea last year was a circle wider than this one." Liu Mo closed the casket and pushed it back across the desk. "If another exists, it loses its worth. Return and tell your Elder—Moyuan Valley takes commissions, but we never accept anything that has a duplicate." Clutching the casket, the young man departed. As he crossed the valley entrance, his legs were still trembling. The next day, another person arrived from the Xuantian Sect. This time, an inner sect Elder had come in person, and the contents of the casket had been replaced—a jade phial sealing a single drop of blood. Liu Mo accepted it, holding it up to the light to read the inscription carved at its base, falling silent for a moment. "This, indeed, I have not seen before." The inner sect Elder breathed a sigh of relief. "Then this matter—" "I'll take the item. And I accept the commission." Stowing the jade phial into his sleeve, Liu Mo stood and smoothed his cuffs. "However, go back and tell your Elder—if you come to test me with items that have 'a second of its kind' next time, you needn't bother coming at all." After the inner sect Elder departed, a core disciple entered to clear the tea set and asked, "Valley Master, was there truly an identical piece of meteoric iron at the North Sea yesterday?" Liu Mo continued reading his jade slip, head lowered. "No." "Then why did you—" "I read his face." Turning a page, he said, "I claimed it existed, and he believed me. Because he believed it, the Xuantian Sect won't dare use ordinary goods to test me next time." The disciple remained silent. Turning the final page of the jade slip, Liu Mo closed it and stood up. "The Taixu Sect is coming tomorrow to negotiate the affairs of Yuheng Province. Tidy up the east assembly hall. Serve last year's tea, not this year's." "Last year's aged tea?" "The people of the Taixu Sect have discerning palates. If they taste this year's fresh harvest, they will know I'm eager to negotiate. Serve last year's, and they won't be able to fathom my intentions." The disciple voiced his assent and withdrew. Liu Mo was left alone in the hall. Standing behind the stone desk, the fingers within his sleeve gently rubbed together—a fleeting, thoroughly concealed movement. Then, he walked to the threshold and glanced at the sky. The sun was setting. Turning inward, he entered the forbidden grounds of the back mountain. The stone door sealed shut behind him without a sound. There were no lamps in the vault. He stood in the gloom for a while, walked over to the empty shelf on the seventh tier, and stood facing away from the door for a long time. Then he spoke a single sentence, his voice so faint it seemed spoken only for the shelf to hear: "Still short by one."