A Pawn's Passage

After the two Chief Superintendents left, only Qi Xuansu and Ke Qingqing remained in the office.

Qi Xuansu remained seated, unmoving, while Ke Qingqing busied herself clearing the bowls and chopsticks.

He asked, “How much more do you know about this Wu Burong?”

Without stopping her movements, Ke Qingqing replied, “I’ve heard from the other Deputy Mansion Master’s secretaries that she’s a very complicated person. Wu Burong is moody and capricious toward her subordinates, but with her superiors and colleagues, she’s extremely adept at social maneuvering, and she has ambiguous ties with quite a few Daoists who hold real power.”

Qi Xuansu said nothing, signaling for Ke Qingqing to continue.

Ke Qingqing continued, “She and Guo Yongyan—Wang Jiaohe’s secretary—were classmates at the Wanxiang Daoist Palace. It’s said they were very close, even reaching the point of discussing marriage. But Wu Burong’s parents objected. They looked down on Guo Yongyan’s orphan background, so in the end, they never became Daoist companions.”

Not all students of the Wanxiang Daoist Palace were orphans. It also recruited age-appropriate children from outside. However, before graduating and leaving the palace, all ties between the children and their families would be severed. Entry into the Wanxiang Daoist Palace was entirely voluntary and never forced. Even so, many parents still sent their children there despite the pain, hoping for a promising future. Sometimes, they even desperately sought admission and failed. After all, aside from the clan academies of great families, the Wanxiang Daoist Palace was among the most elite institutions.

Thus, situations like that of Wu Burong and Guo Yongyan were not uncommon.

Ke Qingqing went on. “They say fortunes reverse, so one should never look down on the poor. No one expected Guo Yongyan to make it big and become Wang Jiaohe’s secretary, while Wu Burong remained merely a superintendent. A huge gap opened between their statuses. Wu Burong’s parents wanted to regret their decision, but by then, Wu Burong was already married.”

Qi Xuansu finally interjected, “Wu Burong must regret it deeply. That’s why her relationship with her current Daoist companion is strained.”

“That’s right,” Ke Qingqing said. “Because of that disparity, Guo Yongyan and Wu Burong’s relationship grew close again. After all, when a man pursues a woman, it’s like crossing a mountain. But when a woman pursues a man, it’s like a veil of gauze. Even if Wu Burong couldn’t become Guo Yongyan’s Daoist companion, she hoped he could help her advance further.”

Qi Xuansu added, “A trade of power for desire.”

Ke Qingqing said, “It’s hard to say whether Guo Yongyan helped Wu Burong become a Chief Superintendent. Back then, Chen Shuhua was still around and had already begun stealing dragon qi. How would she have allowed others to meddle in the Yu royal palace? What witchcraft case could there have been? I’m afraid there’s something suspicious here.”

Qi Xuansu did not pursue the topic further. Instead, he asked, “If the Daoist Mansion Council intervenes in this matter, what attitudes do you think the various Deputy Mansion Masters would take?”

Recently, Ke Qingqing had grown quite close to the secretaries of several Deputy Mansion Masters, so she understood the situation better than Qi Xuansu.

Ke Qingqing replied, “There were originally seven Deputy Mansion Masters. Zheng Jiaohe is dead, leaving six. Two of them will certainly stand with you, Chief Deputy Qi. Wang Jiaoying will definitely stand with Wang Jiaohe. As for the remaining three, they’ll most likely watch which way the wind blows. I don’t think they’ll dare oppose you directly, so the advantage is still on your side.”

Qi Xuansu nodded. “Let’s hope so.”

The next day, an unexpected incident occurred. It was summer, when storms were frequent at sea. Such tempests often passed through, cutting off shipping routes and even making landfall, causing floods, gales, and other disasters. Homes were destroyed, and farmlands were ruined. Proper precautions had to be taken. Otherwise, the losses would be severe. This also fell within the responsibilities of the Chief Deputy.

Qi Xuansu had long been stationed in the north, where such pressures were not so apparent. Now that he was in Nanyang, which was farther south than Jiangnan and right by the ocean, he immediately felt the weight of nature pressing down.

No wonder the people here all worshipped the Heavenly Empress. The impact of storms was simply too great.

In fact, the Daoists responsible for observing the celestial phenomena had already issued forecasts, and the Imperial Observatory in the capital had sent warnings to various regions and vassal states. Preparations had been made everywhere, but no one expected the windstorm to arrive ahead of schedule.

For Qi Xuansu, struggle was inevitable, but official duties could not be neglected. One must fulfill the responsibilities of one’s position.

This was not Qi Xuansu’s burden alone. The other Deputy Mansion Masters all took the matter seriously, each overseeing their own areas. But Qi Xuansu remained at the center, directing operations and convening meetings multiple times to deploy preventive measures and stress their importance.

After all, this was not Fenglin, where local affairs were handled largely by locals, nor was it the Central Plains, where the Great Xuan Court took primary responsibility and local Daoist Mansions merely assisted. The small kingdoms of Nanyang were unreliable, so this was something the Daoist Order had to take firm charge of.

This natural disaster disrupted Qi Xuansu’s original plans, forcing him to postpone several matters.

In such weather, ironclad ships dared not venture out to sea. Flying ships could still take off, but their numbers were limited. If trouble arose, it would be difficult to respond in time, making early preparation all the more essential.

When the windstorm arrived, Qi Xuansu, who should have been commanding from behind, could not sit still and personally went to the front lines.

Whether for show or out of genuine concern, Wang Jiaohe also did not remain idle and appeared amid the raging wind and rain.

When those at the top led by example, those below naturally could not stand by and had to act.

It was often said that human will could overcome heaven. One person alone could not defy the skies, but the combined strength of many was different. Victory could not be guaranteed, but at least it was possible to wrestle with fate.

Thus, the windstorm passed without too much damage. Though there were some casualties, overall losses were not severe.

In truth, authority and responsibility were inseparable. The greater the power, the greater the responsibility.

The Fenglin Daoist Mansion was different from that of Poluo. The Fenglin Daoist Mansion did not manage affairs, nor did it bear any responsibility. The Poluo Daoist Mansion managed everything and thus bore responsibility for everything.

The influence of Confucianism had already seeped into the very bones of the people of the Central Plains, so no matter how much the Daoist Order tried to detach themselves, it was futile. The fundamental core of Confucianism was hierarchy and order—the rules of rank. Thus, no matter who ruled the world, people were accustomed to having a parent taking charge above them. When disasters struck, someone had to bear the burden like a mother would. When one was bullied, someone must stand up for them like a father would.

However, some Western notions have blown to Nanyang, advocating parliaments and service, likening governance to that of a steward. Some people took this as a guiding principle, which was where the conflict lay.

One had to choose to either have a parent or a servant.

Parents managed everything, so they were overbearing and domineering, but they must care about the children’s quality of life.

A steward gave one freedom but would not truly care about the employer’s quality of life. After all, work was just work. It did not matter who was their employer.

There was no best of both worlds. One should choose what was most suitable.

Whether Confucianism was good or bad was hard to judge definitively, but it had endured a thousand years of testing, continuing unbroken. It had its reasons for existence and a solid foundation beneath it.

If the majority truly disagreed with or rejected it, Confucianism would have vanished long ago. Yet it still existed, which showed that most people had accepted it and made their choice.

During the effort to withstand the windstorm, Qi Xuansu personally witnessed tragedies of families destroyed and lives lost. Flying in the sky and looking down, he could see everything clearly. There were many unfortunate people struggling in the waters below.

Even though Qi Xuansu was already a Heavenly Being, he still felt powerless. Once, he clearly saw several people struggling in the water. He managed to save two of them. But by the time he turned back, the others were already gone. The speed in which they were swept away was beyond imagination.

Such instances were too many to count.

Qi Xuansu had always considered himself a coldhearted person, unmoved by ordinary partings of life and death. However, this incident still left a mark on him.

Qi Xuansu was not that sentimental. After all, there were times when merely surviving was already difficult for him, so empathizing with others then would be unbearably exhausting. Only those who lived in comfort and free of want could afford to empathize, pity, and sympathize with others from a position above.

This incident stirred some reflection in Qi Xuansu. Once he held power, he had to bear the corresponding responsibility.

Now that he was the Chief Deputy, he had to put the affairs of the Nanyang United Trading Company in order and manage commerce, as his duty to the Daoist Order. He also had to implement measures to prevent disasters and rescue people afterward, as his duty to the common people.

If one day, Qi Xuansu were no longer Chief Deputy but rose higher—beyond the ranks of an Omniscient Sage or even higher than the Deputy Grand Masters—he would hold unimaginable responsibility.

What once seemed utterly unattainable now carried a glimmer of possibility. After all, he was not even thirty and already a Sage. In another thirty years, he would still be in his prime. The Grand Master held the highest power in the Eastern Continent, with no one to restrain him. So there would be nothing holding him back but his own moral conscience.

The entire Daoist Order and even the whole world would be in his grasp.

Only at this moment did Qi Xuansu ask if he could avoid losing himself amid such immense power. Could he truly shoulder the burden of the Daoist Order and the world?