Chapter 294: From a Foreign Land, Origin Unreported

The north wind whipped snowflakes into his face.

Lu Yuan lowered his head and looked at his own shadow.

That extra stretch of shadow was no longer clinging to his feet, but extending northward along the post road, like a figure lying prone on the snowy ground.

The shadow's arm slowly raised, five fingers curling, pointing toward a stretch of gray-white city wall in the distance.

Behind that wall lay the Northern Guan Righteous Manor.

"Brother Lu," Asheng said quietly. "Your shadow is moving."

"I can see it."

"Should we cut it off?" Xu Erxiao drew his short sword.

"We can't cut it."

Lu Yuan stopped in his tracks, took out some cinnabar from his ink-line box, and rubbed it between his fingertips.

"The shadow isn't the evil entity itself."

"It's a part of us that was borrowed."

"Cutting it off would be cutting off our own form."

Wang Cheng'an crouched down, staring at the black shadow.

"Then how do we get it back?"

Lu Yuan didn't answer immediately.

He laid three copper coins in the snow, face up, pressing them down in sequence against his toes, his heel, and the very tip of the shadow.

"A person has three shadows."

"The shadow at the feet follows the body."

"The shadow under the lamp follows the thoughts."

"The shadow without light follows the origin."

"What it borrowed is the shadow without light."

Lin Zhaoxuan frowned. "Isn't the shadow without light something that only exists after death?"

"A living person can leave a shadow without light too."

"The origin a person refuses to acknowledge, the name they refuse to face, and the road they dare not look back on, all sink behind them."

"Evil entities love borrowing this kind of shadow most of all."

Song Qinghe raised the lamp and stepped closer, the flame illuminating Lu Yuan's feet.

The shadow that had been connected suddenly split into two layers, one clinging tightly to the soles of his boots, the other lying flat on the snow, its head lifting slightly.

The shadow had no facial features, but it transmitted Meng An's voice:

"Daoist Lu, don't leave me here."

Hearing the voice, Mister Meng surged forward.

"An'er?"

Lu Yuan reached out and held him back.

"It's borrowing his voice again."

"But it said Meng An's name."

"Saying a name doesn't mean it's really him."

Lu Yuan crouched down and pressed a dot of cinnabar onto the shadow's forehead.

"Whoever borrows a voice must first reveal its form."

"Whoever borrows a name must first return it to its owner."

"If you are Meng An, report your birth date, report your wounds, report the last lamp you saw."

"If you are not,"

"Shadow returns to shadow, voice returns to voice."

"Separate!"

The cinnabar fell, and the layer of black shadow on the ground convulsed violently.

It spoke three answers in succession.

"Eight years old."

"Left arm."

"Northern Guan Righteous Manor."

Mister Meng's face changed.

"That's all correct."

But Lu Yuan shook his head.

"Meng An has no wound on his left arm."

"When he was little, he fell from a firewood stack. The injury was on his right knee."

"It knows Meng An's name, but it doesn't know where Meng An truly hurts."

The black shadow suddenly recoiled, and all three copper coins flipped over at once.

Lu Yuan rose to his feet, forming the "Shadow Gathering Seal" with both hands.

His right hand curled its five fingers, thumb pressing over the ring finger, while his left index finger drew three horizontal lines across his palm.

"The sun illuminates the form, the moon illuminates the soul."

"The shadow at the feet returns to the feet."

"The shadow behind returns to the back."

"An ownerless shadow shall not borrow a living person's path."

"Withdraw!"

Song Qinghe immediately moved the bronze lamp to directly in front of Lu Yuan.

The lamplight shone from the front, stretching the black shadow behind Lu Yuan like a hide pinned to the snow.

Lin Zhaoxuan cast out the ink-line, the line's end falling across the shadow's four corners.

Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an pressed down on both ends simultaneously, while Zhou Heng drove a copper coin into the shadow's chest.

The black shadow let out a piercing shriek.

"You think Northern Guan Righteous Manor only takes the dead?"

"It takes their place of return."

"Everyone without a home has to leave their shadow there."

"You're no different."

Lu Yuan raised his hand and pressed the spirit tablet inscribed with "Central Protector-of-Life Altar" onto the black shadow.

"A place of return can be a road."

"It can also be a grave."

"But it cannot be a well that you choose for others."

"Hold!"

The black shadow suddenly bounced upward, sending the spirit tablet flying.

In the next instant, the shadow beneath Lu Yuan's feet actually stood up.

It didn't leave the ground, but it stretched out a silhouette as tall as Lu Yuan, its hand gripping a broken blade as well.

That shadow blade slashed upward from below.

Lu Yuan sidestepped, the blade's edge grazing past the hem of his robe, and the cotton fabric immediately frosted over with black frost.

Xu Erxiao charged forward, his short sword striking the shadow blade, yet the blade passed straight through the black shadow.

"Can't cut it!"

"Don't strike at its blade," Lu Yuan shouted. "Pin down its feet!"

Xu Erxiao reacted swiftly, rolling behind the shadow and pressing the sword scabbard against its ankle.

Wang Cheng'an scattered a handful of copper coins, which formed a semicircle upon landing, trapping the black shadow's feet.

"Cheng'an, count them!"

"Seven coins, one missing!"

"Which one is missing?"

"The Life Gate!"

Asheng immediately removed the cyan bronze piece from his chest and handed it to Wang Cheng'an.

Wang Cheng'an pressed the bronze piece into the snow.

"Life Gate, position filled!"

The semicircle of coins instantly lit up with a ring of faint light.

The black shadow's feet were pinned, yet the shadow blade remained raised high.

Lu Yuan looked at it, then suddenly sheathed his broken blade.

"You borrowed my shadow."

"Then you have to play by my rules."

He stepped forward, his left hand pressing against his brow, his right hand's five fingers pressed together, palm facing down.

"The human and the shadow follow each other, the form and the spirit acknowledge each other."

"I won't ask where you came from."

"I'll only ask whose name you borrowed, whose wish you received, and whose gate you guard."

"Answer them one by one."

The black shadow didn't respond.

Lu Yuan raised two fingers and pressed them against its chest.

"Borrowed name."

A character "Lu" surfaced on the black shadow's chest.

"Received wish."

A ball of red light surfaced in the black shadow's abdomen.

"Guarded gate."

The gate image of the Northern Guan Righteous Manor surfaced behind the black shadow.

Lu Yuan finally understood. This was no simple evil shadow.

The Northern Guan Righteous Manor had already placed three layers of marks on him in advance:

Using his name as a plaque, his wish as a lamp, and his shadow as a gate.

As long as he stepped into the manor, the entire central altar would use his form to open its rites.

"No wonder it kept calling me inside."

Song Qinghe asked, "Then what do we do now?"

"We can't enter the gate."

"But Meng An is still inside," Mister Meng said.

Lu Yuan gazed at the gray-white city wall in the distance.

"First dismantle the gate, then save the person."

He took out the "Beiguan" bone token from his chest, then retrieved the remaining piece of Gu Chuan's wooden tablet and Meng An's cold, damp wooden tablet, placing all three objects on the snow.

"Beiguan is a place name, not a deity's name."

"Meng An is a person's name, not a gate's name."

"Gu Chuan is a deceased's name, not an offering name."

"Let every name return to its owner, with three tablets as witness."

Lu Yuan used cinnabar to draw an inverted triangle among the three tablets, his left hand forming the "Name Witnessing Seal": index and middle fingers together, thumb pressing over the ring finger, the remaining fingers curled inward.

"Heaven does not acknowledge names on behalf of people, and earth does not acknowledge names on behalf of ghosts."

"A living person's name must be left by the person themselves; a deceased person's name must be witnessed by their kin."

"Today, with these three tablets as proof, I ask the Northern Guan Righteous Manor,"

"Who permitted you to borrow names?"

On the distant city wall, all the white lamps went out at once.

A deep bell toll sounded from within the manor's gate.

Dong!

The bell's sound rippled across the snowy plain, and the shadow behind Lu Yuan suddenly split open with a crack.

From within the crack, densely packed black wooden tablets were revealed, each inscribed with a person's name.

At the very top hung one that read "Lu Yuan."

Beside it, a line of small characters was carved:

"Winter of the ninth year of the Republic, Beiguan collected souls, first established the unregistered position."

Lu Yuan reached out and took down that tablet.

On the back of the tablet was carved a string of dates, exactly the twenty-third day of the winter month, in the ninth year of the Republic.

"This is the first unregistered tablet," Lin Zhaoxuan said.

"Whose is it?"

Mister Meng stared at the tablet, then suddenly spoke. "My father once saw this date."

"What did he say?"

"He said that year the heavy snow sealed the roads, and the manor took in thirty-seven corpses."

"Among them, one person had no corpse."

"Only a shadow."

Lu Yuan asked, "Who?"

Mister Meng slowly raised his head.

"A cart driver who came from beyond the Great Wall."

"He delivered thirty-seven unnamed corpses into the manor, but he never walked out himself."

"Later, someone saw his shadow inside the manor gate, but no one knew his name."

"So the manor used his namelessness as the first tablet."

"Used his shadow as the first gate."

The black shadow suddenly burst into wild laughter.

"You finally understand."

"The unregistered position wasn't made for you."

"It's for everyone who refuses to leave a name."

"If you take it, every nameless corpse in Beiguan will have to find a new place of return."

Lu Yuan looked at the wreckage of the wooden cart behind him.

"Then let them find their own."

He snapped the "Lu Yuan" tablet in half, but didn't discard it. Instead, he pressed the broken edge against Meng An's damp wooden tablet.

"An unregistered position is not an offering position."

"A nameless person is not without an owner."

"Whoever has no name, return their name to them first."

Lu Yuan raised his hand to Song Qinghe. "Place the lamp to the north."

Song Qinghe carried the bronze lamp seven steps, then stopped in the snow.

"The lamp faces north, illuminating the manor gate."

Lu Yuan then said to Lin Zhaoxuan, "Stretch the ink-line into the Seven Stars. Don't seal the gate. Seal the tablets."

Lin Zhaoxuan nodded, took out the ink-line, first fixed the Heavenly Pivot, then the Heavenly Jade, and then drew the line across six wooden tablets.

Wherever the line touched, the wooden tablet let out a soft sound.

As the final line was about to land on the broken edge of the "Lu Yuan" tablet, the line's end suddenly caught fire on its own.

Lin Zhaoxuan roared, "It's fighting for the line!"

Lu Yuan grabbed the ink-line, letting the black flame burn up along his arm.

The scorching pain shot from his palm all the way to his shoulder, like countless insects burrowing beneath his skin.

Song Qinghe moved to step forward, but Lu Yuan said, "Don't move!"

"If the line hasn't passed through me, the Seven Stars can't be formed."

He gritted his teeth, forming the "Flame Suppressing Seal" with his left hand, his thumb pressing over his index, middle, ring, and little fingers in sequence.

"The fire never rose, so it cannot enter a person's body."

"Evil fire borrows the line, but it cannot borrow blood."

"My blood is my blood, my body is my body."

"Retreat!"

The black flame stopped at his wrist.

Asheng raised his hand and pressed down on the Life character on his chest, guiding a wisp of cyan light onto the ink-line.

"Brother Lu, let me help you."

"You need to guard your own life."

"But I can't stand watching you burn."

Lu Yuan glanced at him.

"Then guard your life well."

"Stay alive and watch me come back."

Asheng nodded firmly.

The cyan light didn't push forward, but it steadied the ink-line.

Lin Zhaoxuan seized the moment and let the final line fall.

The Seven Stars were formed.

Seven wooden tablets on the snow flipped over simultaneously, revealing each person's true name.

Some names were only half intact, some had been smeared over with red paint, and some had faded beyond recognition.

Lu Yuan placed the "Lu Yuan" tablet at the very center, sliced open his own fingertip with the blade's tip, and let a drop of blood fall.

"With the blood of the living, I bear witness to the name of the living."

"This name shall not serve as incense, shall not serve as a lamp, shall not serve as a gate."

"It shall only serve as proof of my own body."

"Northern Guan Righteous Manor, return my name!"

That drop of blood landed on the tablet's surface, and a wisp of white smoke immediately rose from it.

A furious roar echoed from deep within the manor.

The snow on the city wall slid off in a mass, revealing dense black characters across the wall's surface.

Those black characters weren't in the brick gaps. They were row after row of people's names.

Behind some names were written "Collected," behind others "Sacrificed," and behind others "Returned."

At the very bottom, there was a line of blood-red characters that had just appeared:

"Meng An, awaiting verification."

Mister Meng could no longer contain himself. He charged toward the city wall.

"An'er!"

Lu Yuan grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back.

"Don't shout."

"He's in there!"

"That's exactly why you can't let it know you heard."

The three characters "Meng An" on the city wall suddenly lit up.

In the next moment, a small figure walked out from behind the wall.

The child wore an old cotton-padded jacket, with a torn patch on the right knee of his trousers, and carried a paper lantern with no flame in his hand.

He stood beneath the city gate and looked up at Mister Meng.

"Dad."

Mister Meng's entire body froze.

Lu Yuan stared at the child's feet.

There was a shadow on the snow.

But the direction of the shadow was wrong.

The light of day came from the east, yet the child's shadow was cast toward the east, directly facing the sun.

"That's not Meng An."

The child lowered his head to look at his own shadow, then suddenly grinned.

The smile gradually split all the way to his ears.

"You recognized me again."

"Who exactly are you?"

"I'm the words he could never bring himself to say."

"Which words?"

"Dad, don't guard the lamp."

Mister Meng's face turned deathly pale.

Lu Yuan raised his blade and pointed it at the child.

"Why did Meng An tell him not to guard the lamp?"

"Because he's inside the lamp."

"He's sealed inside the lamp?"

"No."

The child shook his head, and the city gate behind him slowly opened a crack.

"He's guarding the lamp."

"Guarding against whom?"

"Guarding the dead who refuse to be reborn and refuse to go home."

"If they leave the lamp, the manor will collapse."

Lu Yuan looked at the dense rows of names on the city wall.

"Meng An stayed willingly?"

"He thought it was willing."

"And then?"

"Then he discovered there was no one inside the lamp."

The smile vanished from the child's face.

"The lamp only contains names."

"Those names have no one to claim them, no one to call them, no one to take them away."

"They piled up more and more, until they grew into a central altar."

"Meng An was chosen by the altar to become the lamp keeper."

Mister Meng stepped forward. "I'll take his place!"

Lu Yuan said sternly, "You can't take his place."

"I'm his father!"

"That's exactly why you can't use a father's name to sign for him a second time."

He turned toward the city gate, raising his left hand to form the "Gate of the Trapped Opening Seal."

Thumb pressing at the base of the middle finger, index finger standing straight, right hand striking the blade's back three times with fingers together.

"There are gates within gates, names within names."

"Today I open no death gate, I ferry no passing gate."

"I only open the gate of the trapped."

"If Meng An is present, let him come out with his own body."

"If a false shadow is present, let it scatter with the voice."

"Open!"

A pale blue-white light floated out from the crack in the city gate.

The light shone onto the child, and his skin immediately turned transparent.

Inside, there were no bones, only layer upon layer of stacked wooden tablets.

On each wooden tablet was carved a person's name.

"Daoist Lu!" Lin Zhaoxuan suddenly shouted. "There are seven offering lines on the threshold of the city gate!"

Lu Yuan looked down.

Seven red lines extended from the threshold, connecting to the seven characters "Name, Wish, Life, Death, Home, Shadow, Offering."

Among them, the "Shadow" line had already coiled around his ankle.

He lifted his foot, only to discover a wooden tablet pressed beneath the sole of his shoe.

On the tablet was written:

"Unregistered Gatekeeper."

The black shadow rose up again from beneath his feet, and the shadow blade in its hand had already transformed into a long key.

"Lu Yuan."

"If you want to save Meng An, you have to guard the gate in his place."

"If you want the nameless to go home, you have to become their home."

"If you don't take this key, the city gate will never open."

Lu Yuan looked at that shadow key, then reached out and took it.

Mister Meng cried out urgently, "Daoist!"

"Don't worry."

Lu Yuan inserted the key into the lock hole of the city gate.

"A key isn't a contract."

"A gate isn't a home."

"Being able to open a gate doesn't mean you have to guard it."

He turned the key, forming the "Reverse Lock Seal" with his right hand at the same time.

Index and middle fingers crossed, thumb pressing over the crossing point, palm facing inward.

"Use gate against gate, use lock against lock."

"Those who open, open on their own; those who guard, guard on their own."

"Borrow my hand to open the road, but do not borrow my name to erect a shrine."

"Reverse lock!"

Click.

The city gate opened.

Beyond the gate was not a courtyard, but a stone staircase descending into the depths.

Seven rows of white lamps hung along both sides of the staircase. Beneath the lamps, there were no wicks, only human teeth, one by one.

With every step, a name sounded from within the lamps.

"Wang Guixiang."

"Zhao Shouyi."

"Meng Wenbing."

"Gu Chuan."

"Liu Sanxi."

"Zhou Dacheng."

The names grew more and more numerous, like someone turning the pages of a heavy ledger deep beneath the earth.

At the end of the stone staircase stood a black memorial arch.

The plaque above the arch had long since peeled away, leaving only a blank space.

Within that blank space, the three characters "Lu Yuan Shrine" slowly floated into view.

But this time, Lu Yuan did not raise his blade.

He walked to the arch, placed the "Central Protector-of-Life Altar" spirit tablet at the center of the threshold, then stood Gu Chuan's remaining wood, Meng An's wooden tablet, and the "Beiguan" bone token upright on either side.

"Today I establish proof, not a deity."

"The dead have names, the living have roads."

"The nameless return to the earth with their true names."

"Those with wishes return to their bodies with their true hearts."

"Those who guard lamps shall not become lamps, those who guard gates shall not become gates."

Meng An's voice came from behind the arch:

"Daoist Lu, from here on, you can't bring anyone else with you."

"Why?"

"The central altar only recognizes one living person."

"Who does it want to use to open the rites?"

"You."

Lu Yuan turned to look at the others.

"All of you stay outside the gate."

Xu Erxiao immediately said, "I'm going in with you."

"It will borrow your voice in there."

"Then I'll cover my ears."

"It will also borrow your memories."

Wang Cheng'an gripped his abacus tightly. "I'm going too."

"The central altar wants one person's name, wish, life, death, home, shadow, and offering."

"If too many people go in, it'll just give it seven more sets of locks."

Song Qinghe carried the lamp to his front.

"At least let me give you the lamp."

Lu Yuan took the bronze lamp, but then handed it back.

"The lamp cannot enter the central altar."

"Then what will you use to light the road?"

"Their names."

He tucked Gu Chuan's remaining wood and Meng An's wooden tablet into his sleeve, keeping only the broken blade and three copper coins.

"This isn't going in alone."

Lu Yuan looked at the people behind him.

"All of you, speak your names outside the gate."

"Then in there, it won't be able to change my name."

Everyone immediately took their positions.

Xu Erxiao spoke first:

"My name is Xu Erxiao. I inherited the Lu teachings, I live in this place, and I do not enter evil altars."

Wang Cheng'an followed:

"My name is Wang Cheng'an. I hold an abacus in my hand and accounts in my heart. Debts are not inherited on my behalf."

Lin Zhaoxuan said:

"My name is Lin Zhaoxuan. I guard the ink-line, I fix the gates and doors, and I do not lend lines to evil things."

Song Qinghe said:

"My name is Song Qinghe. I hold the cyan lamp, I illuminate the living, and I do not illuminate false gods."

Zhou Heng said:

"My name is Zhou Heng. The blade is in my hand, my feet are on the ground, and dead shadows do not borrow my body."

Asheng stepped forward last:

"My name is Asheng. My life belongs to me."

Mister Meng held the skeletal remains, his voice low:

"My name is Meng Jun. My father's debts end with me, and my son's name shall not serve as an offering."

With every word spoken, a white lamp inside the gate went out.

In the end, only a single black lamp remained at the center of the arch.

On the black lamp was carved "Lu Yuan."

Lu Yuan looked at that lamp, then raised his hand to form the "Altar Entry Protection Seal."

"The name stays outside, the body goes inside."

"The voice passes through the gate, but the heart does not follow the voice."

"The shadow remains on the ground, the soul does not leave the body."

"The blade is the boundary, the coins are the proof, the blood is the pledge."

"Today I enter the altar, only to take back Meng An's name."

"Only to ask the road of the dead."

"Only to cut down the deity that borrows names."

"Enter!"

He stepped across the arch.

Behind him, the voices of the others continued, reciting their names over and over.

The darkness at the end of the stone staircase surged up like water, instantly rising past Lu Yuan's knees.

He did not look back.

In the darkness, a massive bronze lamp stand slowly rose into view.

There was no flame on the lamp stand, only seven grooves.

Each groove held a heart-shaped wooden tablet.

The groove at the very center was empty.

A young man in an old cotton-padded jacket sat at the edge of the lamp stand, the right knee of his trousers torn, holding an unlit match in his hand.

He looked up at Lu Yuan.

"You've finally come."

Lu Yuan looked at his feet.

There was a shadow.

The shadow's direction matched the lamp stand. Nothing was wrong.

"Are you Meng An?"

The young man nodded.

"Is your father still alive?"

"He is."

"Do you want to see him?"

Meng An was silent for a long time.

"Yes."

"Then why don't you leave?"

"The central altar won't let me go."

"What does it use to keep you?"

Meng An raised his hand, revealing his palm.

Embedded in his palm was a black lamp wick.

"It said that as long as I pull it out, all the names will be extinguished."

Lu Yuan walked to the lamp stand and examined the wick closely.

The black wick wasn't pierced into Meng An's flesh, but passed through his palm, connecting to the empty groove at the center of the lamp stand.

That empty groove was directly aligned with the "Lu Yuan" black lamp.

"It wasn't treating you as a lamp keeper," Lu Yuan said.

"It was treating you as the igniter."

Meng An's face turned pale.

"What do you mean?"

"The moment you light this wick, the seven offering lines will transfer from your body to mine."

"It deliberately kept you here, waiting for me to come in and take you."

A low laugh came from behind the lamp stand.

In the darkness, a massive faceless figure slowly rose to its feet.

It wore an old military overcoat, a strip of white cloth draped over its shoulder, but its chest was covered in wooden tablets.

"Clever."

"But clever people are better suited for building shrines."

The massive figure extended its hand, a black seal resting in its palm.

Four characters were carved on the seal:

"Nameless Becomes Divine."

"Lu Yuan, you have no hometown registry, no ancestral grave, no kin."

"You're the most suited to collect a home for these dead."

"All you have to do is press this seal, and every deceased in Beiguan will take you as their master."

"They will remember you, follow you, and honor you as their place of return."

"You will no longer be a man without roots."

Lu Yuan looked at that seal, then suddenly asked:

"After I press it, who lives their lives for them?"

The massive figure didn't answer.

"Who eats meals for them?"

"Who plants the fields for them in spring?"

"Who carries their children back to the kang bed for them?"

"You just gathered the dead together and found a living person to receive incense in your place."

Lu Yuan raised his blade, and the cinnabar on the blade's edge slowly ignited.

"The dead need names."

"Not a god."

"The living need their days."

"Not an offering altar."

"And you,"

He stepped onto the lamp stand, facing the faceless figure directly.

"Don't even have a real name of your own."

The faceless figure suddenly raised its palm.

All seven grooves lit up at once, and black flames shot into the sky.

The voices of the people outside were suddenly cut off.

From above the arch came Xu Erxiao's scream of agony.

Lu Yuan's mind and spirit jolted, and countless black hands immediately extended from the stone steps beneath his feet, binding his ankles.

The black shadow laughed.

"You heard that."

"Your junior brother is dead outside the gate."

"If you don't press the seal, his name will enter the lamp wick."

Lu Yuan closed his eyes.

He didn't respond to the black shadow. Instead, he extended his left hand and carved a bloody line across his palm with his fingernail.

"Xu Erxiao."

"Alive."

No response came from outside.

"Wang Cheng'an."

"Alive."

"Lin Zhaoxuan."

"Alive."

"Song Qinghe."

"Alive."

"Zhou Heng."

"Alive."

"Asheng."

"Alive."

"Meng Jun."

"Alive."

His voice pierced through the darkness and landed on every wooden tablet.

The black flames in the seven grooves began to waver.

Lu Yuan opened his eyes, forming the "Name Expelling Altar Breaking Seal" with both hands.

Left palm facing up, right index finger pressing on the second segment of the middle finger, thumb pressing over the ring finger, then both hands separated and crossed.

"Names of the living shall not become fire."

"Names of the dead shall not become oil."

"The living do not enter lamps."

"The dead do not enter gods."

"Seven gates return to their own, every line severs itself."

"With my blood, I bear witness to my words."

"Break!"

A drop of blood flew from his palm and landed on the seven heart-shaped wooden tablets.

The tablets cracked open one after another, releasing the voices of countless people.

Some were crying, some were laughing, some were calling out the names of their loved ones, and some were only repeating a single phrase:

"I want to go home."

Lu Yuan didn't answer for them.

He raised his broken blade, touching its tip to each of the seven grooves in turn.

"Those who want to go home, return to your own homes."

"Those without homes, return first to your own names."

"As long as your name still exists, you cannot be considered without a place to go."

The blade's edge fell.

The first groove, "Name," split open.

The second groove, "Wish," shattered.

The third groove, "Life," went out.

The fourth groove, "Death," sank into the ground.

The fifth groove, "Home," turned into a wisp of cooking smoke.

The sixth groove, "Shadow," adhered back beneath the feet of countless dead.

In the end, only the "Offering" groove remained.

The black lamp wick was still embedded in Meng An's palm.

Meng An looked at Lu Yuan, his voice trembling:

"Pull it out."

"Once you pull it out, the Offering groove will go out."

"Your hand will be crippled."

"That's still better than letting it keep lighting lamps with names."

Lu Yuan reached out and grasped the wick.

The black wick was ice-cold to the bone. The moment he touched it, countless voices burrowed into his ears.

"Stay."

"You'll have a home."

"Stay."

"Everyone will remember you."

"Stay."

"You won't be alone anymore."

Lu Yuan tightened his five fingers.

"A home isn't other people remembering me."

"A home is a place I don't have to trade myself to get into."

He yanked the wick out in one motion.

Meng An let out a scream of agony as black blood sprayed from his palm.

The empty groove at the center of the lamp stand collapsed in an instant, and the entire central altar began to shake violently.

The faceless figure lunged at Lu Yuan, its five fingers transforming into black long nails.

Lu Yuan blocked with his broken blade, and three cracks burst across the blade's surface on the spot.

"You can't cut me down!"

"If you have no name, then there's nothing to cut!"

"Then I'll give you a name first."

Using the rebound force from the blade, Lu Yuan retreated three steps, planted his feet on the Kan position, and raised his hand to drive the black lamp wick into a blank wooden tablet.

"You collect the dead, borrow living wishes, steal people's names, and build false homes."

"You are not a god."

"Not a ghost."

"Not a gate."

"You are, a nameless thing that collects souls."

He wrote five characters on the tablet with his blood:

"Collector of names, return the names."

The faceless figure let out a violent roar.

Beyond the arch, all the white lamps lit up at once, revealing the figure's true shape.

It wasn't a divine statue. It was a cart assembled from wooden tablets and bones.

The shafts, wheels, carriage, and axle were all constructed from the bones of nameless corpses.

The reason it had no face was that its face was covered with layer upon layer of spirit tablets.

Lu Yuan had finally found its true body.

"You aren't the central altar."

"You're that first cart."

"The cart that transported thirty-seven unnamed corpses into the manor in the ninth year of the Republic."

"You treated the dead on the cart as your master, then loaded everyone who came after into the carriage."

"The so-called protection of life is just your refusal to admit that you died on the road long ago."

The faceless cart body retreated in a frenzy.

"I sent them home!"

"You sent them into the same well."

"I guarded the gate for them!"

"You built the gate on top of their names."

"I kept them from being alone!"

"You made them afraid to even have loneliness."

Lu Yuan lifted the tablet inscribed with "Collector of names, return the names" and pressed it against the front of the cart.

"Today I return your master's name."

"Zhao Shouyi is not you."

"Meng Wenbing is not you."

"Meng An is not you."

"Lu Yuan is even less you."

"Your true name,"

He drove his blade into the deepest part of the cart's front.

"Is the empty cart called Zhao Shouyi."

"Return to your place!"

The black cart body slammed to a halt.

All the wooden tablets fell off its body, scattering through the air like a blizzard.

Beneath the wheels, a curled white skeleton was revealed, its bony fingers still tightly gripping a section of old cart shaft.

Four characters were carved on the skeleton's chest:

"Zhao Shouyi, escort."

A gray-white humanoid shadow rose from the skeleton, exactly the Zhao Shouyi who had appeared on the wooden cart earlier.

He looked at the empty cart assembled from bones, and said slowly:

"I brought them here not so they would stay."

"I brought them here so they would have a place to be buried."

"Who changed the rules afterward?"

The black cart couldn't answer.

Zhao Shouyi turned around and looked at Lu Yuan.

"Thank you for returning my name."

"Your son is outside."

"I know."

"He's still alive."

"Then let him go home in my place."

Zhao Shouyi reached out and pressed his hand against the black cart.

The bones, wooden tablets, and red cords all let out the sound of snapping at once.

The black cart slowly collapsed, turning into an ordinary pile of lumber.

The darkness deep within the central altar began to recede.

But Meng An was still standing by the lamp stand, the wound on his palm not yet healed.

Lu Yuan walked over, used cinnabar to draw the four characters "Stop Bleeding, Guard Soul" on his wrist, then pressed three copper coins over the wound.

"You can go out now."

Meng An shook his head.

"There are still many names that haven't been called."

"Let them go back on their own."

"Some people don't know their own names."

"Then first remember what they left behind."

"Clothes, accents, hometowns, the names their loved ones called them, all of these can become roads."

Lu Yuan took out a stack of yellow talisman paper and handed it to Meng An.

"You aren't a lamp keeper."

"You're a recorder of names."

"Write the names down one by one, and wait for the living to come and claim them."

Meng An took the yellow paper, and his tears finally fell.

"Then can I go home?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Now."

Meng An turned and walked toward the stone staircase.

Halfway there, he suddenly looked back.

"Daoist Lu."

"What?"

"You said earlier that a home isn't other people remembering you."

"Then what is your home?"

Lu Yuan was silent for a moment.

At the end of the stone staircase, the faint sound of Xu Erxiao and the others calling out could be heard.

Some were shouting his name, some were shouting "Brother Lu," and some were urging him to come out quickly.

Lu Yuan listened to those voices and answered:

"It's having people who know I haven't come back yet."

Meng An nodded, then walked out of the darkness first.

Lu Yuan sheathed his broken blade and took one last look at the collapsed central altar.

Only a bronze lamp remained on the ground.

A line of new characters was engraved on the base of the lamp:

"Beiguan has no central altar, the Righteous Manor may keep names."

He didn't take the lamp with him.

He only split the "Lu Yuan Shrine" plaque completely in two, burying the broken wood in the snow.

When he walked out from beneath the arch, it was already broad daylight outside.

Xu Erxiao had a streak of black soot on his face, Wang Cheng'an's abacus was missing two beads, Lin Zhaoxuan's arm was marked with bloody lines from the ink-line, and the bronze lamp Song Qinghe carried had only a flame the size of a bean left.

Mister Meng rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Meng An.

Neither father nor son said a word.

Asheng stood off to the side, then suddenly pointed at Lu Yuan's feet.

"The shadow is back."

Lu Yuan looked down.

That extra stretch of shadow had already reattached itself to his feet.

Only, at the very end of the shadow, there was a new black mark in the shape of a wheel.

He touched the black mark with cinnabar, but the mark didn't disappear.

In the distance, the city wall of the Northern Guan Righteous Manor collapsed with a thunderous roar, revealing miles of white wasteland stretching out behind it.

In the center of the wasteland stood a new stele.

There was no "Central Protector-of-Life Altar" on the stele, and no "Lu Yuan Shrine."

Only a single line of freshly carved characters:

"Northern Guan, thirty-seven souls, one still missing."

Song Qinghe walked to Lu Yuan's side.

"Who's missing?"

Lu Yuan stared at the stele, his face slowly sinking.

The snow beneath the stele suddenly collapsed, revealing a frozen stiff hand.

A red cord was tied around the wrist, and at the end of the red cord hung a wooden tablet.

The front of the tablet was blank.

But on the back was carved a line of characters:

"From a foreign land, origin unreported."

Lu Yuan reached out and picked up the wooden tablet.

The moment his fingers touched the tablet, the sound of an infant's cry came from deep within the northern wasteland.

The voice was very faint, yet crystal clear.

"Lu Yuan."

Lu Yuan looked up toward the end of the snowy plain.

Through the wind and snow, the outline of a third temple slowly emerged.

A black wooden plaque hung on the temple gate.

Four characters were written on the plaque:

"Mother's Return Temple."

Meng An gripped the yellow paper in his hand, his face suddenly turning pale.

"What's enshrined there isn't a god."

"It's the first title everyone called out in their earliest moments."

Lu Yuan tucked the blank wooden tablet into his sleeve.

"Then let's go take a look."

"Who's using a mother's voice to open a door."

The north wind swept across the wasteland once more.

In the distance, the temple gate swung open on its own, and the cries of countless infants came from within.

And the wheel-shaped black mark beneath Lu Yuan's feet was turning, bit by bit, toward the north.

As if something, somewhere even farther away, had already chosen his next road for him.