Equivalent Exchange

Ren Pingsheng played black, and Jiang Huaiyi played white. The game was more than halfway through, and the black stones were being returned to the bowl; the situation was already lost. Given Jiang Huaiyi’s skill, Ren Pingsheng would inevitably lose within three moves. They continued to place their stones as usual until the very last black stone was set. As they stared at the board, reviewing the game and confirming it was truly over, Ren Pingsheng suddenly bowed his head with a strange smile. He hunched his body, deliberately withdrew the hand he was using to prop himself up, and sprawled across the board, scattering the stones everywhere.

Ren Pingsheng feigned an apology: "Oh dear, I’m truly sorry. I couldn't hold myself up. Let’s play another round."

Instead of being annoyed by Ren Pingsheng’s shamelessness, Jiang Huaiyi turned his head to vent his anger on Zhang Ling. He pointed at his nose and scolded, "You two really are brothers, aren't you? You’re both such scoundrels when it comes to playing chess. It’s a waste of talent that you aren't out begging on the streets."

Ren Pingsheng looked away at the scenery outside the window, while Zhang Ling felt genuinely embarrassed.

A month ago, Zhang Ling had seen Jiang Huaiyi playing chess alone by the stream. For others, playing like this was a way to study new strategies or identify flaws, but Jiang Huaiyi would project certain people and events into the game, simulating various trends and outcomes. It was similar to Taoist divination, though more intuitive and free from the risks of revealing heavenly secrets. For this reason, the Emperor, Chen Liuren, had tried many times to recruit him, but Jiang Huaiyi refused to give him the time of day. Still, to verify certain matters, Chen Liuren would shamelessly climb the mountain from time to time to play chess with him and seek answers.

At that time, seeing such an ethereal and detached scene, Zhang Ling couldn't resist breaking the spell. He leaned over and said, "Brother Jiang, playing chess? I happen to know how, too. How about a game?"

Jiang Huaiyi, not knowing he was dealing with a rascal, took it for a gentleman’s invitation and readily agreed: "Please."

But just as the outcome was about to be decided, Zhang Ling had pulled the same stunt—a sly smile followed by sweeping the board in a fit of shamelessness. Between the two of them, one was blunt and the other subtle, but both were cut from the same cloth.

Zhang Ling pretended not to remember and shifted the subject, asking, "Have you two seen Wu Zhi? I have something to ask him."

Ren Pingsheng, trying to ease the atmosphere, turned his head and smiled: "Him? He’s ten floors up, busy organizing the new 'Seven-Line Records'."

Zhang Ling understood. The "Seven-Line Records" did not refer to a single book, but was a collective term for secret intelligence gathered from the seven boundaries of the Mingtang. Seeing the atmosphere threatening to stiffen again, Zhang Ling hurried off to head upstairs.

Zhang Ling’s footsteps were heavy, so as soon as he reached the tenth floor, Wu Zhi spotted him and asked, "What are you here for? This floor is for secret records; martial arts manuals are on the bottom four."

Zhang Ling flipped through some scrolls as he replied, "I came up here specifically to find you. Tell me, do you have the blueprints for the Prime Minister’s residence? Give me a copy."

Wu Zhi paused for a moment and said, "His Majesty approached you?"

Zhang Ling smiled: "Is that a guess, or do you have people in the city?"

Wu Zhi replied, "I asked first. You answer first."

Zhang Ling closed one book and picked up another, saying, "Yes."

Wu Zhi suddenly realized: "It seems Xiao Qinhe is truly planning to rebel; otherwise, His Majesty wouldn't be moving against him so soon. He wants you to go to the Prime Minister’s residence to retrieve secret files and letters, doesn't he?"

Zhang Ling wasn't surprised. When he first joined the academy, Song Qingtian had spoken to him privately. However, the ways in which they and Chen Liuren had discovered his identity differed. Chen Liuren had recognized him by his short sword; Song Qingtian was a veteran of the underworld and naturally knew the true identity of the Medicine King Valley’s Saint Physician, and he had deduced Zhang Ling’s origins the moment he saw his light-body techniques. As for the man before him, he was even more direct—relying on the Mingtang’s Seven-Line Records, he probably knew as soon as Zhang Ling left Luochuan County.

Wu Zhi continued, "Do you realize that if you fail to get those files and get caught, you won't escape death?"

Zhang Ling sighed helplessly: "I have no choice. I am the son of a Great General, and he has offended many people in this city. If I don't help the Emperor, he won't protect me either. So, when the time comes, please notify Dean Song. If something really goes wrong, I beg him to help me from the shadows. Even in the worst-case scenario, at the very least, I can hide in the academy forever, or fly far away. The Medicine King Valley is far in the north; that’s an option, too."

Wu Zhi turned, climbed the ladder, and pulled a sheet of paper from a book. He unfolded it to reveal the floor plan of the Prime Minister’s residence. It was comprehensive, with every room and proportion detailed with precision—far better than the unreadable scribbles of some people.

Wu Zhi handed the map to Zhang Ling and said calmly, "Since you’ve already thought of an exit strategy, I won't stop you. Handle the rest yourself. If you have anything else to ask, you can come to me. After all, we were fellow students; who knows if we’ll ever see each other again a month from now."

Zhang Ling said testily, "Can't you hope for something better for me? Do you really think I’ll just fall into a pit?"

Zhang Ling secured the blueprints and ran down to the bottom four floors, searching through the shelves. Even with the categorization, the sheer volume of manuals made it hard to find what he needed, so he ran back up.

Wu Zhi was still standing on the ladder, turning around to ask, "Something else?"

Zhang Ling inquired, "Is there any martial art that can conceal one’s presence? A quick-to-learn one would be best."

Wu Zhi jumped down from the ladder and laughed: "My light-body technique, 'Floating Without a Trace,' is perfect for concealing one’s presence. As long as you aren't standing right in front of someone, or facing a Grandmaster in person, you definitely won't be discovered. Furthermore, this technique is known for covering a thousand miles a day. Even if you’ve only mastered the basics, it gives you an extra chance to escape if you are spotted. But in exchange, you must teach me your Medicine King Valley’s 'Shadow-Step.' Deal or no deal? Choose for yourself. But I must warn you, your technique is a secret of the Medicine King Valley, passed down only from the Master to their direct disciples. If you teach the 'Shadow-Step' to me, you had best never go back to the Medicine King Valley."

Zhang Ling agreed immediately. Reputation meant nothing compared to survival: "Fine. When shall we exchange?"

Wu Zhi waved his hand and said, "Go back first. Once I’ve finished organizing the records I collected today, I’ll come find you."

Zhang Ling walked down the stairs. Wu Zhi had only taken two steps when he heard footsteps behind him.

Indeed, Zhang Ling was back. Wu Zhi said impatiently, "Can’t you ask everything at once?"

Zhang Ling smiled: "I asked earlier, but you didn't answer. Was your knowledge of Chen Liuren meeting me a guess, or do you really have someone in the palace?"

Wu Zhi was speechless and said, "Are you that bored? Fine, it’s both. Now stop wasting time."

When the tenth floor returned to silence, the Taoist on the thirteenth floor curled his lips into a smile; the conversation from three floors below had reached his ears without a single word missed.

...

At the Lu Mansion, in a secluded courtyard that contained nothing but a residence, lived a master of spearmanship. He remained behind closed doors all day, dedicated solely to the study of the spear. At this moment, he was doing the same; his spear never ceased its motion, all for the sake of one more battle with the Spear Immortal.

As Han Yan danced with his spear, he sensed movement outside the courtyard. He paused for a moment, revealed a look of disdain, and continued to dance his spear like a silver snake.