Over a decade ago, in a private room at the Celestial Court restaurant in Xuanzhu County, two children and a middle-aged man ordered a massive table of food.

"I'm telling you, it's rare for me to be so damn generous and treat you to a good meal, so why do you two brothers look like your mother just died, as if you're eating offerings at a wake? And Yuanyang, what the hell are you doing bringing a lunch box out?"

The younger child said, "It's tasty. I want to bring some back for my little sister. She's teething now, she can eat meat."

The older child said, "Teacher, our mother really did die."

The man asked in surprise, "Eh? So then where did your sister come from?"

"My aunt gave birth to her. She was beaten to death two months ago."

The man said, "Oh… but what the hell's that got to do with me? I've spent a shitload of money treating you two to this feast, and you can't even say a kind word, let alone show a single decent expression. Tell me, do you think I'll ever treat you to dinner again? Brat, and Yuanyang, both of you better remember this: if you take your trauma and make others taste it once, they might find it novel. Let them taste it two, three, four times, and don't blame them for getting tired of you. If you want people to welcome you, help you, or even love you, you can't let them see you as 'pathetic.'"

The man said, "Only the rich can borrow money, because everyone knows they can pay it back; only the loved will receive love, because people know they understand how to give it; only those who don't look pathetic can live happily, because everyone wants to celebrate with them."

The man downed a cup of wine, "You two better pay attention. Do you know why the Grand Ancestor has been praised as the First Saint for thousands of years?"

The older child said, "Wasn't it because he founded Glory?"

The man said, "Not just that! You've lived in Xuanzhu County long enough, you must have seen Scandinavia merchants around, right? Scandinavia may just be a small country overseas, but its history isn't any shorter than Glory's. Yet even now, Scandinavia isn't unified—let alone having a Saint to be remembered for a hundred generations."

The man said, "What made the Grand Ancestor great is that he made Spiritual Power available to everyone! Spiritual Power is the strength of the mind, the force of will! That's why Glory has produced so many heroes over the centuries."

The man said, "As long as your will is strong enough, Spiritual Power will help you accomplish your wishes. But if your will is weak, if you wallow in self-pity all day, then Spiritual Power will only speed up your fall, dragging you down into the mud until you're nothing but sludge!"

The older child shook his head, "Teacher, you're lying. Fate is unpredictable, blessings and misfortune come and go—what does that have to do with willpower? Can strong will really change the world?"

The man laughed, "The world indeed isn't changed by sheer will, but willpower stops the world from changing you. When I was in Yanjing, I saw countless brilliant talents. Some rose up with the tide, as if favored by Heaven. Some lost once and never recovered, and lived out their lives in mediocrity. Some kept quiet for a while but believed deep down they'd succeed, and they managed to make a comeback in the end."

The man said, "The first kind are the ones favored by fate—nothing more to say. But the difference between the second and third kind, that's all about willpower. If you were an official and needed a smart person to work for you, would you choose the sloppy, whiny kid who drowns his sorrows in booze every day, or would you pick the well-groomed student who steps forward and recommends himself?"

The two kids nodded thoughtfully, but the older one quickly asked, "But what if the third kind never gets another chance, and ends up living an ordinary life just like the second kind?"

"Always ready with a comeback." The man smacked him on the head and teased, "Listen up—you have to remember this. If you keep hope in your heart, you'll never be a loser forever. If fate really never lets you win, if you get beaten down every single time, then at the very least, when you die you can still look up at the sky and shout, 'Screw you, Old Heaven, you couldn't keep me down, we'll play again next life!'—and do you think someone like that is just ordinary?"

"So after all that, you're still saying it all comes down to fate, and has nothing to do with willpower."

"Oh, you little brat, still not convinced? I'm telling you, good things might not happen just because you hope for them, but if you spend all your time worrying about bad things, then bad things are bound to come true."

"Really?"

"Your teacher here is the best example." The man said, "I was dirt poor as a kid, so I always thought I'd never be rich. Now, look at me—I'm a bigshot official, but somehow poverty managed to outdo even my wildest expectations, turned into my reality…"

"Teacher, if you didn't go to Xiangxue Sea so much, you wouldn't be so poor."

"You're too young to understand. That's called 'socializing.'" The man smiled,

"Anyway, just keep hope alive, and smile more, okay? You'll probably grow up looking almost as pretty as your teacher here—it'd be a shame not to put those looks to good use."

…

…

"Brat, do you know the saying that failure is the mother of success?"

"I know."

"So since I lost to you at cards, it's not unreasonable for me to call you 'son,' right?"

"If you're willing to dress up like the star courtesan at Xiangxue Sea, I wouldn't mind calling you 'mom.'"

"Why do you keep bringing up Xiangxue Sea every three sentences? Is your libido awakening? As it happens, I'm headed to Xiangxue Sea to see Jing Qingfu—you want to come?"

"No, I don't like Jing Qingfu."

"I kind of like him myself. He's a real scoundrel, but unfortunately he's also a bastard."

The boy showed a look of surprise, "Teacher, do you think you're a good person?"

The middle-aged man shook his head, "I don't think I'm a good man, but does that mean I like hanging around with bad men? Why do you think people here in Xuanzhu County—this filthy, rotten place—love listening to the Heroic Legend, a story that celebrates loyalty, honor, wisdom, and courtesy? These so-called virtues, these ideals—for all that we may never truly have them, deep down we still want to get close to them."

"Besides, you think I sit around with Jing Qingfu plotting devious schemes? If the ruthless 'Blackthorn' can't dream of something as pure as a 'white lotus,' what's the point of dreaming at all?"

The boy asked, "So what do you two talk about?"

The man replied, "How to be a good person."

…

…

"You've learned Blood-Drinking Badao Style, you know all about the Four Guardians, and the rest you'll never master all at once. Go back to Xuanzhu and take your time—it's fine."

"I've nothing left to teach you."

Yanjing, deep winter. In a courtyard, the young man gave a respectful bow to the middle-aged man sitting on a bamboo chair, "Thank you for your trouble, Teacher."

"Not trouble, I brought it on myself. I had to go and get a kick out of playing teacher and took you in, you little brat." The man said, "Maybe you were my dad in a past life, here for payback."

He paused, "Oh? Not taking the chance to call me 'dad'? Interesting. I thought Blood-Drinking Badao Style would've beaten all emotion out of you by now. Anyway, here—take this as well."

He handed over a sapphire-studded necklace, "You've been eyeing this for ages, haven't you? Here, take it and get out of here."

The young man accepted the necklace, "According to Four Guardians regulations, isn't this prohibited as a personal gift—?"

"Thanks to me, starting today, you're the Dongyang Courier for the Four Guardians." The man said, "But keep in mind, that's just a title. Until you fully control the Qin Family, don't think about bossing others around with your new status. Swallowing a snake whole will only kill you."

"I understand." The young man said, "But having taken it, what about you, Teacher—?"

"I'll be moving up, of course, and living the good life. The Nesser Heart is no use to me now."

"I've heard…"

"Go on now, you can't stay in Yanjing."

After a long silence, the young man asked, "Do you have any advice for me? Like, about my agreement with Jing Qingfu?"

"That's up to you. If you want to work with Jing Qingfu, don't count on my reputation getting you anywhere… Who knows, maybe he's already forgotten me. If you have ideas, accomplish them in your own way—don't just walk in my tracks."

"As for everything else, not much to say… Oh, right, if you get yourself in trouble, don't go dropping my name. It's not that I wouldn't help you, but I've made more than my share of enemies. Name-dropping me will just get you an even worse beating."

"And, if possible, I hope you'll consider attending the Imperial Academy. It's a truly first-rate school. You'll meet a lot of truly wonderful people…"

The young man said, "Impossible. Once I'm in charge of the Qin Family, there's no way I'll have time to study in Yanjing. At most, I'll send my brother and sister."

"That really is a shame."

A heavy silence fell again.

The young man asked, "Teacher, you've got such talent for strategy and vision, why—"

"I'm not as brilliant as you think." The man laughed, "I barely qualify as a wise man, good at seeing which way the wheel of history is turning. But controlling that wheel, or stopping it? That's for Saints—I don't have what it takes."

"I only believe that Heaven's Will cannot be defied."

Smack.

Suddenly the young man fell to his knees in the snow, pressing up against the man's leg, his body trembling. For someone always so cold and reserved, tears slid down his cheeks, "Teacher…"

"All these years, and this is the first time I've seen you act so childish, brat…" The man gently ruffled his hair, "The first time I met you, I saw something in you—a spirit I don't have. The kind of spirit that says 'man conquers destiny.'"

"All those years drifting around Xuanzhu, I'm just glad I had you as a student. At least my life wasn't completely wasted."

"T-Teacher, I will continue, I'll continue your—"

"Continue my work? No need. My experience is nothing special. If you rely on experience too much, you only end up stuck in the rut of 'ignorance.' The value of experience isn't in repetition—it's in improvement, innovation."

"Do it your way. Make your dreams real. Just remember, always keep hope and humility before Heaven's Will—that alone is enough to make all my teaching worth it."

Once the young man had cried his fill, the man helped him up, looked at his tear-streaked face, and couldn't help laughing, "See? When you share heartbreak the first time, people find it fresh and new. Alright, wipe your face, don't look so pitiful or soft. Go back to Xuanzhu."

The young man still didn't move. The man shook his head in exasperation, took him by the hand and led him out of the courtyard, speaking as they walked,

"Quit acting like a baby—you're already a stone-cold grown-up killer, so, brat… no, scratch that…"

"Qin Le Yin, there's no one left who can bully you."

…

…

Ha!

When Le Yuxin finally broke free from the emotional maelstrom of memories, he almost felt like Qin Le Yin had hacked into his mind instead.

It wasn't like Qian Yuliu's memory at all. Qian Yuliu's memory was like a library—tidy and meticulous. Nor was it like Yin Yinyin's, a swamp with only the surface water safe to drink, while everything below was murky and thick. Nor was it at all like Zhengwei's memory, a junk heap where you have to pick and choose what you want.

Qin Le Yin's memory was a ruin.

At first, Le Yuxin only picked through the outskirts to find anything useful to get by. But if, during the process, the right opportunity emerged, the ruin would change in ways Le Yuxin couldn't comprehend—a slab would suddenly summon a Blue-Eyed White Dragon, a dead scarab would spring to life, a coffin would suddenly burst open…

But as Ice Blood ran through his veins, Le Yuxin quickly took control of his physical body again.

"Did Blood-Drinking Badao Style also lock away certain memories? That I didn't know," a voice suddenly sounded, "But you insisted on learning it, so don't blame me."

Le Yuxin looked toward the Grand Steward, the teacher from Qin Le Yin's memory, and the man standing before him matched perfectly. Other than the knife scar on his face, the Grand Steward and the Qin Xiao of more than ten years ago were nearly identical, like he hadn't aged at all.

"Qin—"

"Just call me Grand Steward," he said, "That's what I go by now."

Le Yuxin took a deep breath, "I have a lot of questions I want to ask you."

The Grand Steward shook his head, "I can barely answer any."

"Why?"

"Because I can't, so I can't."

Le Yuxin asked, "Then did you really die back then?"

The Grand Steward didn't answer, just watched him quietly. "That silence was already an answer—if he hadn't died, he could have just said so. Silence only made sense if the answer was something else."

"You were resurrected."

Silence.

"Resurrection has a cost. The price is that you work for your master—the President of the National Relief Association. He can even control your words and deeds, which is why you've been completely out of touch these years; not only have you not contacted your students, you haven't returned to the Four Guardians of Glory either. If you'd wanted to, the Four Guardians could've gotten you out."

Silence.

But Le Yuxin could see a trace of admiration in his eyes.

"But you didn't come to the Platinum Tower just for this mission, did you?" Le Yuxin asked, "You volunteered."

The Grand Steward finally spoke, "That's right—I asked to come. Given my rank, the President didn't want me to, but this was my dream, so he agreed."

"I couldn't pass up the chance to see the Holy Sword Glory."

Le Yuxin glanced at his pierced right hand. The Grand Steward looked apologetic, "Sorry, but it had to be done."

"It's whatever," Le Yuxin shook his head. He opened his mouth, a thousand questions still inside, but he knew Qin Xiao wouldn't answer them.

"For some reason, Le Yuxin suddenly thought of the Sword Holder's words."

'The rest of the time, I'll leave you two alone.'

"Even the Sword Holder knew manners, so Le Yuxin felt bad about taking up these last moments. He sighed, looked at the Grand Steward, and asked, "Is there anything you want to say to me?"

The Grand Steward was a little startled, then fixed his gaze on Le Yuxin.

"As I predicted, you really did grow up as handsome as me," he laughed, "though I can't say I love your taste in hair color; it's like your teacher's teacher—President Cha—far too gaudy, way too flashy…"

Is that so? Actually, Le Yuxin found Qin Le Yin's red hair pretty nice.

"As a reunion scene between teacher and student, this really is something neither of us saw coming, but since fate is fickle, and Heaven's Will can't be denied, just like we always said, maybe this all makes sense after all."

The Grand Steward said, "I've already heard about what you did in Dongyang. Even if I couldn't attend your lectures in person, I still sent people to take notes and report back."

"I'm proud of you. You made your dreams come true, your way. Compared to me, the loser, you've already beaten me. I can't help but be jealous—back then, nothing ever fell into my lap like that."

"I've actually got a lot more I want to say, but I'm nearly out of blood," the Grand Steward glanced at his own gut, where intestines and black blood spilled out, "Unlike Number Two and the others, I've kept more of my mind, but my body is just about spent."

"I don't even know what else to say. Instead, I just remembered a really good line I read in some newspaper recently. I liked it enough to add it to my list of favorite warnings."

Le Yuxin had a bad feeling.

"Keep hope alive, respect Heaven's Will." The Grand Steward reached out and gently ruffled Qin Le Yin's red hair, "Just do good. Don't worry about what comes next."

"Brat, I'm proud of you."

The moment he finished speaking, Le Yuxin saw the Grand Steward's skin suddenly wrinkle and shrivel with age. It was as if, in a matter of seconds, he'd lived through several decades, turning from a middle-aged man to an old one right before his eyes.

But the Grand Steward's eyes only grew brighter, staring at Le Yuxin with radiant warmth as his lips silently mouthed a few quick syllables.

Suddenly, the light died in his eyes. His withered right hand fell away from Le Yuxin's head, his chin drooped, the faint smile forever frozen—the look of a dead, dried tree.

Le Yuxin stood silent for three seconds, then took out the brittle piece of yellow paper the Grand Steward had pressed to the back of his hand, recalling the last words formed by the Grand Steward's lips, and quietly repeated them to himself:

"Beware the Book of the Dead."

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