The empty streets of the City of Eternal Prosperity stretched before them like a wound that had been left to fester. The buildings that lined the road were tall and ornate, their facades covered with intricate carvings that depicted scenes of abundance and prosperity. But the windows were dark, the doors were closed, and the only sound was the rhythmic scrape of Gu Yao's hammer against the stones.
Shen Yi walked beside him, her shoulder pressed against his, her hand resting on his arm. She had not spoken since the fight, but her presence was enough. It had always been enough. He could feel her warmth seeping through the tattered fabric of his sleeve, a small comfort against the cold that had settled into his bones.
"The assassins," she said at last. "They knew who you were. They knew where to find you."
"The Keeper of the Ledgers knew," Gu Yao said. "He knew I would come to the Counting District. He knew I would ask questions. He was waiting for me."
"Then why didn't he send more?"
Gu Yao was silent for a moment. He had been asking himself the same question. The Keeper had sent three assassins, but he could have sent a dozen. He could have sent a hundred. He had the resources, the connections, the power. So why had he sent only three?
"Because he wanted to test me," Gu Yao said at last. "He wanted to see what I could do. He wanted to see if I was worth the effort."
"And now?"
"Now he knows." Gu Yao stopped walking, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "And he will send more."
The road curved, and the city opened up before them. They had reached the center of the City of Eternal Prosperity, the heart of the machine that kept the Kingdom of Li running. The buildings here were even grander than the ones they had passed, their facades covered with gold leaf and precious stones. The streets were wider, lined with trees and flower beds and fountains that sparkled in the pale light.
And at the center of it all, rising above the city like a monument to the system itself, stood a palace of white stone and gold.
It was not a palace in the way that Gu Yao understood palaces. It was a fortress, a stronghold, a place that had been built to keep the people out and the power in. Its walls were thick and high, its gates were heavy and iron-bound, and its towers bristled with the kind of defenses that had been designed to withstand a siege.
"The Palace of the Ledgers," Shen Yi said. "That's what they call it."
Gu Yao nodded slowly. He had heard the name before, in the Counting District, in the whispers of the clerks and the accountants who had watched him pass. It was the seat of the Keeper's power, the place where the debts were recorded and the credits were tallied, the place where the fate of millions was decided with the stroke of a quill.
"Brother Gu." Xiao Liu was at his side, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the palace. "What do we do?"
Gu Yao did not answer immediately. He was studying the palace, his eyes tracing the lines of its walls, the pattern of its gates, the placement of its defenses. It was built to keep people out. It was built to protect the system that it housed.
But Gu Yao had spent fifty years breaking things that were built to stay together.
"We go in," he said.
Xiao Liu's eyes widened. "Brother Gu, there must be a hundred guards in there. A thousand. We can't just walk in."
"We're not going to walk in," Gu Yao said. "We're going to walk through."
He started walking again, his hammer scraping against the stones, his stone leg dragging behind him. Shen Yi followed, her steps silent, her face unreadable. Xiao Liu hesitated, then followed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The gates of the palace were open.
It was the first thing that Gu Yao noticed, the first thing that struck him as wrong. The gates were wide open, their iron-bound leaves pulled back to reveal the courtyard beyond. There were no guards at the gate, no sentries on the walls, no sign of the defenses that should have been there.
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"They know we're coming," Shen Yi said.
"Yes," Gu Yao said. "They know."
He walked through the gates, his hammer scraping against the stones. The courtyard was vast, paved with white marble that gleamed in the pale light. At its center, a fountain of crystal water rose and fell, its spray catching the light and scattering it like diamonds.
And at the far end of the courtyard, a man stood waiting.
He was tall and thin, his face lined with age, his beard white and flowing. He wore robes of deep purple silk, embroidered with gold thread, and the golden abacus around his neck was larger and more ornate than any Gu Yao had seen. His eyes were sharp, his posture straight, and his hands were clasped behind his back.
"Gu Yao," he said. His voice was low and smooth, like honey poured over gravel. "I have been expecting you."
Gu Yao stopped at the edge of the fountain. His hammer was in his hand, its iron head dark and cold. "You know who I am."
"I know who you are," the old man said. "I know who you were. And I know who you are going to become." He smiled, and it was not a kind smile. "I am Wei Wuming, the Keeper of the Ledgers. I am the one who records the debts and the credits, the gains and the losses. I am the one who decides who rises and who falls."
"Then you are the one I need to talk to," Gu Yao said.
Wei Wuming's smile widened. "I suspected as much. You have come a long way, Gu Yao. You have walked through the Blood Road and the Forgotten Lands. You have seen the dead rise and the living fall. And now you have come here, to the heart of the machine, to demand answers."
"I demand nothing," Gu Yao said. "I ask."
"Ask, then."
Gu Yao took a step forward, his stone leg scraping against the marble. "The people of this city. They wear golden abaci around their necks. They count their debts and their credits. They have been told that if they work hard enough, they can earn their freedom. But I have seen the ones who stand in the river, and I know that freedom is a lie."
Wei Wuming's smile did not waver. "Is it? The Living Pillars chose their fate. They signed their contracts. They knew what they were agreeing to."
"Did they?" Gu Yao asked. "Did they really know? Or were they just told that this was the only way?"
"The law is the law," Wei Wuming said. "The Sects have decreed it. The system is just. Those who work hard are rewarded. Those who do not are punished. It is the natural order of things."
Gu Yao shook his head slowly. He had heard these words before, in Qingzhou, in the Blood Road, in a hundred different places with a hundred different names. It was always the same. The Sects were always just. The system was always fair. And the people who suffered were always the ones who had brought it upon themselves.
"The natural order of things," Gu Yao repeated. "That's what you call it. That's what you call a system that takes people's children and grinds them into fuel."
"Fuel," Wei Wuming repeated. "That is a harsh word."
"It is the truth," Gu Yao said. "The Sects feed on the lives of mortals. They have always fed on them. And they will continue to feed on them until someone stops them."
Wei Wuming was silent for a long moment. His eyes were fixed on Gu Yao, searching for something—a crack in the armor, a weakness that could be exploited.
"You are angry," Wei Wuming said at last. "You are angry because you have seen the truth of the world, and you cannot change it. You are angry because you have fought for so long, and you have achieved so little."
"I am angry," Gu Yao said. "But I am not angry because I cannot change the world. I am angry because I have spent fifty years fighting, and I have only just begun to understand what I am fighting against."
Wei Wuming leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "And what is it that you think you are fighting against?"
Gu Yao looked around the courtyard, at the white marble and the crystal fountain, at the palace that rose behind the old man like a monument to the system itself.
"I am fighting against this," he said. "Against the idea that a life can be measured in clicks. Against the idea that a person is nothing more than a number in a ledger. Against the idea that the Sects have the right to decide who lives and who dies."
Wei Wuming's smile flickered. For just a moment, something else appeared in his eyes—something that might have been fear.
"You are a dangerous man, Gu Yao," Wei Wuming said. "You are dangerous because you believe in something that does not exist. You believe in a world where there is no debt, no credit, no balance. You believe in a world where everyone is equal."
"I believe in a world where no one is a number," Gu Yao said. "That is not the same thing."
He turned away from the old man and walked toward the palace. His hammer scraped against the marble, the sound harsh and grinding. Behind him, Wei Wuming stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the white-haired figure that was disappearing into the shadows.
"Gu Yao," Wei Wuming called out. "You cannot save them. You cannot save anyone. The system is too large. It is too powerful. It has been in place for three thousand years, and it will be in place for three thousand more."
Gu Yao stopped. He did not turn around.
"Maybe," he said. "But I can try."
He walked through the gates of the palace, his hammer scraping against the stones, his stone leg dragging behind him. The refugees followed, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
Behind them, Wei Wuming's smile faded. He reached up and touched the golden abacus around his neck, his fingers tracing the beads.
"Gu Yao," he murmured to himself. "You have made a mistake."
But Gu Yao was already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the palace.