Chapter 304: When the Ledger Won't Recognize You, Smash the Abacus

The snow at North Mountain Pass was a foot deeper than at the righteous manor.

The six followed the white line forward, and with every step, a soft sound came from beneath the snow, like someone turning paper pages beneath thick earth.

After three li, the white line suddenly split into two branches.

One followed the mountain path northward, the other plunged into the forest, winding toward an abandoned lumber yard.

Wang Cheng'an crouched down and used his abacus rod to push aside the loose snow.

Beneath the snow lay a faded white cloth band. Every three chi, a cinnabar seal covered the band. The seals up front still bore the two characters "relocation-name" clearly, but the farther back they went, the fainter they became, until only an empty square frame remained.

"These weren't left recently." Wang Cheng'an rubbed the mud off the cloth. "They've been buried for at least twenty years."

Xu Erxiao looked toward the forest.

"Why does that white line look as fresh as new?"

"The old road has woken up again." Lin Zhaoxuan said. "The moment the headquarters shattered, all the relocation-name routes buried beneath it were exposed."

Lu Yuan didn't choose a path right away.

He took out the thin paper peeled from the black brick. Originally, seven routes had been drawn on it, six of them pressed down by ink circles, leaving only the one leading to the "great relocation-name beyond the Great Wall" blank.

Now, a small seal mark had appeared on that blank route.

The seal was stamped in reverse.

Its shape resembled half a door.

Zhou Heng glanced at it.

"An open-door seal."

"You've seen one before?"

"There's a similar one in the old storage of Green Pine Temple." Zhou Heng said. "It wasn't used to open house doors, but for verifying guides when refugees entered the pass. The bearer held half the seal to lead people to the checkpoint, and the gatekeeper matched it with the other half before the path could open."

Song Qinghe raised the lamp to illuminate the white cloth.

The lamplight bent northward, yet it illuminated the white line toward the lumber yard even more brightly.

"North is the road people walk."

"The forest is the road seals walk."

Xu Erxiao frowned at that.

"Seals can walk on their own?"

"Seals can't." Lu Yuan put away the thin paper. "But the people carrying them can."

He looked toward the forest.

"We're looking for the one who set up the gate. We chase the seal first."

The six turned into the woods.

The lumber yard had long been abandoned, rotting logs lying crisscrossed all around. Snow covered most of the timber, leaving only sections of blackened broken ends exposed. From a distance, they looked like a cluster of nameless steles buried in the snow.

There were no footprints in the forest.

But the white line threaded between the logs, stretching all the way to the center of the yard.

There stood a low wooden shed.

Six wooden tablets were nailed to the shed door.

None of the tablets bore any writing, only a single groove carved by a blade.

Xu Erxiao reached out to push the door, but Lu Yuan raised his arm to stop him.

"Check the shadows first."

Song Qinghe lowered the bronze lamp.

All six of their shadows fell on the snow, yet the wooden shed cast no shadow.

It wasn't just the shed that had no shadow. Even the six wooden tablets on the door reflected no dark trace.

Lin Zhaoxuan took out his ink line and snapped a thin cord taut.

The moment the ink line crossed the threshold, an aged voice came from inside the shed.

"Six have arrived at the pass. Report your guide first."

None of them answered.

After a pause, the voice asked again:

"Who led you here?"

Lu Yuan said: "The road led us."

The shed fell silent.

Moments later, the wooden door opened an inch inward by itself.

No one stood behind the door gap, only a row of bamboo hats hanging in midair.

There were six hats in total, varying in size, each edged with white cloth. They rotated slowly, like six headless faces no one could see.

The aged voice spoke once more:

"The road cannot speak."

"Who told you there was a gate at North Mountain Pass?"

Lu Yuan countered:

"Who told you that six people came?"

All six hats stopped at once.

Xu Erxiao lowered his voice.

"Brother Lu, can the thing inside see us?"

"It can't see." Lu Yuan stared at the wooden tablets on the door. "It only counts the tablets."

Wang Cheng'an followed his gaze and suddenly noticed that the grooves on the six wooden tablets were all different.

The first looked like a broken saber, the second like an abacus, the third like a short sword. As for the remaining three, they resembled an ink line, a copper coin, and a lamp wick, in that order.

"It carved our belongings onto them."

"It didn't carve them just now." Lu Yuan said. "When the gate shattered, six witness objects left traces at the headquarters. Someone collected those traces from behind the headquarters and delivered them here ahead of us."

Zhou Heng's gaze turned cold.

"The one who opened the gate knew the headquarters would shatter."

"He was even waiting for it to shatter."

The voice inside the shed suddenly chuckled.

"When the gate shatters, people come looking for a gate."

"Since you've come, enter the shed and have your seals verified."

The six bamboo hats rose slowly, clearing a narrow passage.

But Lu Yuan took a step back.

"We won't verify."

"Without seals, you cannot pass North Mountain Pass."

"Then we won't pass."

"If you don't pass, how will you find the one who opened the gate?"

"The one who opened the gate isn't behind the pass."

Lu Yuan stared at the shadowless wooden shed.

"He's inside the shed."

The moment his words fell, he suddenly drew his broken saber and slammed the flat of the blade against the first wooden tablet.

The tablet split open with a crack.

Inside was no wooden core, only a tightly rolled clump of hair.

The hair scattered onto the snow and immediately transformed into a blurry human figure, kneeling outside the door, hands still frozen in the posture of presenting a route certificate.

Lu Yuan smashed the second tablet.

Three baby teeth rolled out.

The third hid a length of red cord.

The fourth held half a Dao talisman.

The fifth was a copper coin with its engravings worn smooth.

The sixth contained a small burnt lamp wick.

The moment all six items hit the ground, the bamboo hats inside the door shook violently.

The aged voice suddenly turned shrill.

"Whoever destroys the road tablets shall not enter the pass!"

Xu Erxiao stepped forward, short sword held across his chest.

"Who the hell wants to enter your broken pass?"

The shed door burst open with a bang.

A gust of frigid wind surged out, carrying white paper with it. The six bamboo hats tumbled in the wind, revealing the six faces hidden beneath.

The first was an old man, the second a woman, the third a child. The remaining three were all dressed as Daoists, but had no eyes. Instead, each empty eye socket bore a half-door seal pressed inside.

All six faces opened their mouths at once.

"Report your guide!"

The sound shook snow loose from the shed roof.

Song Qinghe raised her lamp. The green flame swept across the six faces, revealing fine stitching beneath their necks.

"They're not six people."

"They're six peeled-off faces."

Lin Zhaoxuan whipped out his ink line and bound the nearest bamboo hat.

The hat was dragged outside the door, and the old man's face beneath it instantly withered, turning into a yellowed route certificate. Written on the back of the certificate was:

"Guide Ma Huaiyi, led forty-three people through the pass, thirty-seven actually arrived."

Wang Cheng'an rapidly flicked his abacus beads.

"Six missing."

Zhou Heng cut down the second bamboo hat.

The woman's face hit the ground and likewise transformed into a route certificate:

"Guide Sun Liushi, led twenty-one people through the pass, fifteen actually arrived."

"Six missing again." Wang Cheng'an said.

Xu Erxiao's sword flicked the hat off the child's face.

"Guide A Qi, led twelve children through the pass, six actually arrived."

Still six missing.

The remaining three bamboo hats retreated into the shed at once.

The aged voice came from all directions:

"Six people fill the gate. Six people per guide."

"That's how all the old accounts read."

"Why reopen them?"

Lu Yuan stepped across the threshold.

"Because you pocket six people every single time."

The interior of the shed was far deeper than it appeared from outside.

Rows of wooden racks lined both sides, each holding a half-seal. Beneath every seal lay a route certificate, and the final arrival count on every one was always six fewer than the number led in.

The more Wang Cheng'an looked, the darker his expression grew.

"It's not that people naturally disappeared in groups of six."

"It's that the gatekeeper set a rule. Every time the gate opens, six people must be left behind."

"Left behind for what?" Xu Erxiao asked.

"To make the next set of road tablets."

Lu Yuan looked at the six broken tablets on the door.

The hair, baby teeth, red cord, and Dao talisman inside them had all been taken from different people.

Lin Zhaoxuan followed the wooden racks deeper inside and soon discovered a long table at the farthest end.

On the table lay a complete open-door seal.

The seal was split down the middle into two halves. One half was carved with the character "come," the other with the character "stay." Only when the two halves joined together did they form a complete "relocation" character.

Behind the long table sat a corpse wearing a sheepskin coat.

The corpse had long since dried out, and its right hand had only five fingers.

But on the wall behind it, a six-fingered hand shadow was cast.

Zhou Heng drew his sword and pointed it at the wall.

"That relocation-name official from the carriage earlier, that was this shadow."

Lu Yuan walked up to the corpse.

An iron plaque hung from the corpse's chest, engraved with a name:

"Guide of North Mountain, Ma Huichuan."

Wang Cheng'an opened the ledger on the table.

The first page recorded Ma Huichuan's history. He had originally been a guide for a mule caravan beyond the mountains. Forty years ago, when heavy snow sealed the pass, he had led over a hundred refugees through the North Mountain. Later, when the Daoists established the relocation-name pass, they invited him to identify routes and verify people.

Farther back, the handwriting gradually changed.

The earlier entries recorded weather, headcounts, illnesses, and grain supplies, but the later pages contained only one repeated line of cinnabar characters:

"Keep six at every opening, and the road shall be safe."

Xu Erxiao glanced at the corpse.

"He's the one who set up the gate?"

"He's the one who opened the gate, but not necessarily the one who made the rule." Lu Yuan said.

Song Qinghe's lamp illuminated the corpse's right hand.

Among the five withered fingers, the index and middle fingers were stained with cinnabar, but a black thread was wrapped around the base of the little finger.

"He originally had a sixth finger."

Song Qinghe said: "It was cut off after he died."

Lu Yuan turned toward the shadow on the wall.

The six-fingered hand shadow didn't waver with the lamplight. Instead, it slowly crawled across the tabletop, reaching for the complete open-door seal.

Zhou Heng's sword struck down in one motion.

The blade passed through the hand shadow and pinned into the table board.

But the hand shadow split apart on either side of the blade and continued crawling toward the seal.

"That shadow doesn't belong to him." Zhou Heng said.

"It belongs to that sixth finger."

Lu Yuan grabbed the open-door seal and flipped it over.

Embedded in the center of the "relocation" character on the seal's base was a small piece of blackened bone, shaped exactly like a human finger.

The moment the open-door seal left the table, the entire wooden shed tilted violently.

The half-seals on the wooden racks toppled over one after another, and route certificates flew through the shed like startled white birds.

The aged voice whispered right by everyone's ears:

"Put the seal down."

"Without the seal, North Mountain will not open."

Lu Yuan gripped the open-door seal tightly.

"You're not Ma Huichuan."

"Ma Huichuan only knew how to identify routes. He didn't make rules."

"Who are you?"

The six-fingered hand shadow on the wall slowly bulged upward, like someone trying to squeeze out from behind the plaster.

"I am the guide."

"Which road do you guide?"

"The road of the living."

Lu Yuan said coldly: "A road bought with six lives isn't a road of the living."

The hand shadow suddenly swelled to enormous size. Five fingers lunged toward Lu Yuan, Wang Cheng'an, Xu Erxiao, Lin Zhaoxuan, and Zhou Heng respectively, while the sixth finger made straight for the lamp in Song Qinghe's hand.

"Protect the lamp!"

Lin Zhaoxuan snapped his ink line outward, binding two of the fingers.

Xu Erxiao swung his sword at the shadow hand reaching for him. Though the blade severed the fingers, they immediately grew back from the ground.

Wang Cheng'an slammed his abacus onto the table, scattering black and white beads into two rows.

"Brother Lu, there are three hundred and twenty-four half-seals!"

"But the people missing from the route certificates are more than that!"

"How many more?"

"The total comes to exactly six hundred and forty-seven!"

Everyone froze.

The number of people recorded on the black brick at the righteous manor, those whose names had been changed, shadows borrowed, or records suppressed, was also six hundred and forty-seven.

Lu Yuan understood at once.

"This isn't another ledger."

"This is the entrance to the headquarters' ledger."

"Every single person who was name-relocated passed through North Mountain Pass first."

Wang Cheng'an stared at the scattered abacus beads.

"That's not right. One is missing."

"Three hundred and twenty-four half-seals, each pressing two names, should total six hundred and forty-eight people."

"But the register only has six hundred and forty-seven."

"The one missing, is that the first guide?"

Lu Yuan looked at Ma Huichuan's corpse.

The corpse still sat in the chair, but its head had somehow lifted at some point.

Its hollow eyes were fixed on the open-door seal in Lu Yuan's hand.

Song Qinghe suddenly spoke:

"There's a strand of life force inside the lamp."

She brought the bronze lamp close to the corpse's chest.

A wisp of faint white vapor rose from the corpse, connecting to the finger bone within the open-door seal.

"Ma Huichuan was never written into the register."

"His true name and a wisp of his soul were both sealed inside the sixth finger."

"That's why the register is one person short."

The hand shadow on the wall abruptly halted.

Then, Ma Huichuan's corpse opened its mouth, releasing a low murmur utterly different from the aged voice:

"Give me back my name."

Xu Erxiao looked at Lu Yuan.

"Brother Lu, which one of them is the real one this time?"

"Both of them are real."

Lu Yuan said: "The corpse wants its name, and the shadow wants to keep opening the gate."

"But they were originally one person."

Lin Zhaoxuan pressed down on his ink line, sweat already beading at his temples.

"They were one person in life. They weren't after death."

"His name was sealed into the seal, and his shadow was left at the pass. After Ma Huichuan died, he wanted to reclaim his name, but the shadow only remembers opening the gate."

Zhou Heng said: "If we smash the seal, can we release the name?"

"We can't smash it directly." Song Qinghe looked at the finger bone inside the seal. "If the finger bone shatters, Ma Huichuan's name will scatter with it."

Lu Yuan set the open-door seal back on the table, but didn't let go.

"Wang Cheng'an, find his first route ledger."

Wang Cheng'an immediately began searching the wooden racks.

Xu Erxiao held the doorway, his short sword repeatedly severing the shadow hands that emerged from beneath the snow. Lin Zhaoxuan and Zhou Heng flanked the six-fingered hand shadow, pressing it into a corner with ink line and copper coins. Song Qinghe placed the lamp before Ma Huichuan's corpse, keeping the strand of life force from breaking.

The shed trembled more and more violently.

The white lines outside had also come alive, slithering across the threshold like countless long serpents.

"Found it!"

Wang Cheng'an pulled out an old ledger wrapped in oilcloth from the lowest rack.

The cover didn't bear the words "relocation-name." It only read "North Mountain Travel Record."

The first page was in Ma Huichuan's own handwriting:

"Ninth day, heavy snow. Led seventeen elders and children from south of the mountain, all passed through."

"Twelfth day, fierce wind. Led eleven Daoists from White Cloud Sect, all passed through."

"Fifteenth day, encountered wolves. Led twenty-nine refugee households from Ma family gully. Two died, all others passed through. The dead were buried on site, names recorded separately."

Every single entry was clear and precise.

No name changes. No people withheld. No keeping six.

Only when they reached the last page did a different handwriting appear:

"The various routes are disordered and difficult to govern. A relocation-name pass shall now be established. Six people must be kept as proof at every opening."

Below it was stamped a broken dharma seal.

Only three characters remained legible on the seal:

"Mountain-Regulation Council..."

Lin Zhaoxuan caught sight of the seal and his expression changed drastically.

"The Mountain-Regulation Council Altar."

"The predecessor of the Mountain-Regulation Assembly."

Zhou Heng gritted his teeth.

"The one who made the rule really wasn't Ma Huichuan."

"They borrowed his road to establish their own gate."

Lu Yuan spread the old ledger open before the corpse.

"Ma Huichuan, in life you led people across the mountain. You never kept living people as seals."

The white vapor at the corpse's chest trembled slightly.

"After you died, they cut off one of your fingers, sealed away your name, and used your shadow to guard the gate."

"This isn't your rule."

The six-fingered shadow on the wall struggled wildly.

"If the gate isn't guarded, the mountain roads will fall into chaos!"

"If six aren't kept, later travelers will have no proof!"

"If no master name is established, who will recognize that they came?"

Lu Yuan raised his broken saber and pressed the tip against the center of the open-door seal.

"Ma Huichuan recognizes them."

"His road ledger recognizes them."

"And the people he led across the mountain recognize them too."

Wang Cheng'an held the old ledger and read out the names of those people one by one, word by word.

With every name he read, a half-seal on the wooden racks cracked open.

With every seal that cracked, a faint shadow stepped out from a route certificate, crossed the threshold, and set foot on the northbound mountain path.

Some carried bundles on their backs, some held children in their arms, some supported the elderly.

None of them looked back at the wooden shed.

Because to people truly on a journey, this place should only have been a rest stop for verifying routes, not a door that devours people.

The six-fingered hand shadow grew fainter and fainter.

Suddenly, it released Lin Zhaoxuan and Zhou Heng and lunged entirely at Ma Huichuan's corpse, trying to crawl back inside.

Song Qinghe raised her lamp, blocking the path between them.

"The name from life may return. The evil shadow from death may not return to the body."

The green flame shone on the hand shadow, and dozens of blurry faces floated up from within it.

That wasn't the shadow of Ma Huichuan alone.

They were the shadows of generations of gatekeepers, relocation-name officials, and seal-bearers of the old Mountain-Regulation Council, stitched one generation at a time onto that sixth finger.

Lu Yuan finally saw it clearly.

"So this is who opened the gate."

"It isn't one person."

"It's a group of gate-guarding shadows who refused to give up their power."

The broken saber pressed down.

The open-door seal split from the center of the "relocation" character, carefully avoiding the finger bone.

The two halves landed on the table. One read "come," the other read "stay."

Lu Yuan used the tip of his blade to scrape away the character "stay" and carved a new character in its place: "go."

"Those who come are recorded. Those who leave are cleared."

"Guides only identify routes. They may not detain people."

"The gate exists only for passage. It may not keep shadows."

"And it absolutely may not use six people to fill the gate."

With every stroke carved, one finger vanished from the shadow on the wall.

After five strokes, only the final sixth finger still hung on the wall.

Song Qinghe removed the finger bone from the seal and placed it in Ma Huichuan's palm.

The corpse's five fingers slowly closed, grasping the part it had lost for so many years.

Wang Cheng'an flipped to the last page of the road ledger and added one line after the six hundred and forty-seventh entry:

"Ma Huichuan, Guide of North Mountain, original name returned to the register, not entered into the Relocation Headquarters."

The moment the final stroke landed, the sixth finger on the wall shattered with a bang.

A series of dull cracking sounds came from outside the shed.

The white cloth bands buried beneath the snow snapped apart, section by section. The northbound mountain path revealed its true appearance. No white lines, no cinnabar seals, only an old road packed solid by countless wheels and footsteps.

Ma Huichuan's corpse lowered its head.

A clear human silhouette stood up from behind him.

The man was in his fifties, wearing an old sheepskin coat with a horse whip at his waist, his right hand still bearing five fingers. He looked at the six of them, then turned his gaze to the northbound mountain path.

"This road, I only lead to the mountain pass."

Lu Yuan asked: "Who takes over beyond the pass?"

Ma Huichuan's shadow raised a hand and pointed farther north.

"The Iron Abacus."

Wang Cheng'an lowered his head to look at his own abacus.

Xu Erxiao was stunned too.

"He means you?"

Ma Huichuan shook his head.

"Not this Iron Abacus."

"The one who used to calculate the relocation-name master ledger for the Mountain-Regulation Council."

"He's dead?"

"He's dead."

"But his abacus is still calculating."

A mountain wind suddenly blew in from the north.

Within the wind came the faint sound of abacus beads colliding.

One after another.

Neither hurried nor slow.

Like someone sitting deep in the snowy wilderness, still cross-checking an account that could never be settled.

Ma Huichuan's shadow gradually dispersed.

Just before it faded completely, he said one more thing:

"Don't let it calculate the six hundred and forty-eighth person."

Lu Yuan looked at the name Wang Cheng'an had just added.

The register now held exactly six hundred and forty-eight people.

But Ma Huichuan had returned to his name, not into the headquarters.

Which meant the last bead missing from that abacus still hadn't been filled.

The wooden shed collapsed completely.

The six retreated onto the snowfield and watched the rotting timber and half-seals sink into the earth on both sides of the old road. The two newly separated seals were wrapped up by Lu Yuan and placed into Wang Cheng'an's account satchel.

One read "come."

One read "go."

And in between, there was no longer a "stay."

Wang Cheng'an shouldered the satchel, but his expression was far from relaxed.

"Brother Lu, if that Iron Abacus in the north is really still calculating, he definitely already knows we just restored Ma Huichuan's name."

"That's exactly what I want him to know."

Lu Yuan gazed into the depths of the snowy wilderness.

"He calculated six hundred and forty-seven people into one evil account."

"So we'll bring six hundred and forty-eight names, each returned to its rightful owner, and settle the account with him."

Xu Erxiao sheathed his sword.

"What if he refuses to recognize it?"

Lu Yuan stepped onto the old northbound road.

"When the ledger won't recognize you, smash the abacus."

The six set out once more.

As they passed the lumber yard, Song Qinghe's lamp suddenly cast a glance behind her.

Beside the collapsed shed, an extra set of footprints left by Ma Huichuan had appeared.

The footprints didn't follow them.

They headed south.

That was the direction home for a guide who had just seen off his final batch of pass-crossers.

Ahead, the snowy wilderness stretched without lamp or fire, yet the sound of abacus beads grew clearer and clearer.

The abacus in Wang Cheng'an's arms also began to vibrate on its own.

Among them, the last black bead had somehow developed a thin white mark.

The white mark looked like a character not yet finished writing.

Lu Yuan needed only one glance to recognize the first stroke of that character.

It was a "Wang."