act49side

<p=1>Year 982</>

Damn, it's just a sword. How could this be screwed up? Getting rusty?

The smith scratches her head in confusion and takes out another steel ingot from storage.

Autumn is wet this year. It's suffocating.

Something doesn't feel right...

Impossible... this is impossible!

Is It... awakening?

(Worried screech)—?

An angry cloud has appeared on the calm scroll.

A crack of thunder leaves an ink trail on the white scroll, looking decidedly out of place.

Countless terrible ink spirits appear out of nowhere, scattering across the scroll, covering everything on it in black ink.

I didn't paint this...

Go... away!

You've had a long journey, Mr. Shuo.

I will take you to a quiet place where you can rest.

I should not delay in reporting to the Ministry of War.

There has been an incident in Baizao. His Majesty commands that you are not to enter for the time being.

Why?

Is that... the Tomb of Sui?

Wang... what have you done?

Did the heart skip a beat, or did it beat twice in an instant?

Or was it the vibration of the nomadic city from some sudden movement?

Or was it...

*Plop*

The scroll that was in the proxy's hand is now on the ground.

Wang?!

J-Jie!

What is it?

Look at this!

A letter of indictment... for Wang? Who gave you this?

Someone sent it to the Sui Regulator. The Supervisor had to report to His Majesty. There are rumors that the Imperial Guard is coming to the Sky Mirror Pavilion!

Finally...

...Finally!

You're here.

Why are you... awake?

No... no. Your aura is almost identical to Its own, but you've appeared in that hollow visage...

The hollow visage that is also yours.

In any case, you're not awake. You're still in the dream.

Of course I'm awake... you had awakened me centuries ago, when you intruded upon my dream.

You're bluffing... I would not be standing here, if you were truly awake.

You flexed in your dream and thought you had woken up.

You, a mere dreamwalker not yet awake, dare call yourself awake?

Dreamwalker? Very well, we'll call this a journey in a dream.

But I see those games you and your siblings play with those puny humans, and your foolish, flawed, presumptuous plan to replace me.

You want to become the same as the humans, to become such fickle, puny creatures, in order to escape your fate?

How pathetic... how laughable!

You forget that these puny creatures defeated you and imprisoned you for a thousand years.

Does it matter if you're awake? You're a shadow, a reflection—a phantom questioning its own shade, a reflection in fleeting water...

Killing you will not be difficult.

Is that so?

The proxy turns around to look at the corridor that he just walked through, but finds no path.

Why are you afraid, then?

It took so long for you to get a chance to see me like this. If you are not afraid, why have you not torn me to pieces in your hatred?

Pathetic... foolish.

Watch your tongue.

Hahahahahahaha!

Didn't you want to fight me to the death?

Then come. Do what you do best.

A weiqi board appears in front of Wang, with a familiar crack on it.

Without asking, the mysterious foe takes the white stone and goes first according to tradition.

The first stone is placed in the Tianyuan position—the center of the board.

First move, Tianyuan.

Are you mocking me?

You'll find out when the game has ended.

Your turn.

He takes a black piece. The nineteen-by-nineteen board is intimately familiar to him; he has not tasted defeat in a long, long time.

Yet it seems as though his opponent sees through his every move, every thought, every emotion.

He soon finds himself at a disadvantage, even though his opponent had forfeited the opening move.

Impossible...

Why would it be?

Have you not realized that all the intricate moves that you have pondered, all your puny stratagems, are no secrets to me?

Because I am you.

Giving up already? No, no, that won't do.

You must finish the game.

So be it.

He clenches his teeth and picks up another stone.

Every move causes a splitting headache. Every move drains his spirit.

The game is finally concluded after another hundred moves or so, with all endgame plays settled. Black wins by the slimmest of margins—half a point—as the points are tallied.

The player is exhausted, at his last gasp.

(Pants feebly)

You lose.

Arrogant as ever...

Haha... hahahahaha!

Leaving aside whether this child's play even counts... do you think this is the only game between us?

The name of this game is Wang. You may have won this round, but have you any idea how insignificant it is in the big picture?

Step back. Go there and look back, and see if there is any meaning in these moves that took every last drop of your being.

Against his will, Wang gets up and takes a few steps back.

It is only a few steps, but the board that he has been seeing has shrunk to a tiny piece.

No matter how you flail and struggle, it is no more than one-twelfth of the game.

All the twists and turns of your black pieces have not determined the outcome of a single corner. Why do you think you can make me concede?

Wang forces himself to look...

It is no longer a nineteen-by-nineteen board, but hundreds of lines vertical and across. The game that he had poured his heart and soul into just to win by a hair looks utterly insignificant on the vast board.

Countless white pieces, as many as there are stars in the sky, lie beyond the board, which itself seems endless. There is no room to intervene in their formation—as immutable as Sui's anger and contempt, which have simmered for a thousand years.

You planned this...

Of course I planned this.

This plan began to take form in my countless dreams, ever since you glimpsed into my mind centuries ago.

A White would begin to lay the pieces around you, quietly and unbeknownst to you.

What you have done, he made a note of. What you did not finish, he finished for you. What you did not do, he did in your image.

He made you wary of the humans, and the humans wary of you, forcing you and your kind to return here... this source of your immortality for centuries.

Why do you care that we live?