Bitter and seething with hatred, Wang Jun stepped into a nearby shadow. He merged with it and traveled ten thousand feet in a single instant, reappearing in a dark alley where no one was watching.
A shadow ran through the streets of Gold Leaf City, unseen beneath the thick lamplight that bathed their carefully cut cobblestones. The shadow was alive, and it was completely unaffected by the watchful lanterns above. Despite its conspicuous appearance, no one seemed to see the dark specter, and neither did they hear its footsteps. Instead, it was the shadow that saw, the shadow that listened. Its steps echoed unheard in an entirely different plane of existence.
Wang Jun, hidden from unwanted eyes and blocked from unwanted ears, took pleasure in the run. There was something refreshing about not flying everywhere, using your own two feet to get to your destination. You could communicate with nature, feel closer to your community, and in his case, take longer to get to your destination. He ran for a full half hour, dancing between the sentries and guards, who ignored him. Eventually he arrived at a rich residential area. He searched, his gaze passing all sorts of ostentatious houses around him.
The houses in this richer area weren’t uniform like in many upscale neighborhoods in the city. They were pieces of art, built by well-off families to show off or owned by embassies or lent to important clergymen or government officials. One was made of bricks twice as large as was standard and resembled a fortified castle. Another was built from enchanted wood, its walls twisting the building into what seemed like a grove of giant redwoods. Each house had a theme, a specific message it wanted to convey to those who looked at it.
The house he finally settled on wasn’t any different. Instead of odd construction materials that set it apart from the city’s décor, this house did the opposite. It blended in with the gray stone streets at the base, which eventually made way for cream-white walls. They were plain and unadorned, with three vertical windows spanning all three floors of the mansion. As it was nighttime, the view through the windows was blocked by golden curtains. They matched the golden borders on each window frame, which in turn matched golden runes that shone at the well-lit entrance.
“May the light bless unworthy men with truth and salvation,” Wang Jun muttered as he stood before the doorway. The runes on the frame were runes of detection, specially made to catch those who would sneak onto the premises. He said these words right beside the guards, and the guards, unsurprisingly, didn’t hear him. He walked between them and disappeared right before the door, only to reappear behind it. He passed through the welcome room and proceeded up a flight of marble steps. Each dull thud of his feet caused it to vibrate soundlessly.
Wang Jun looked through the hallways, curious as he made his way to the master bedroom. He passed the children’s bedchambers, where three young daughters lay snuggled in a single bed, leaving two other beds empty and undisturbed. He passed a sleeping beauty on a larger bed, a contented smile gracing her face. For why wouldn’t she be happy? She had a loving family, a loving and honest husband, and a good reputation. She and her husband were both cultivators, and all three of their children had been blessed by providence to follow in their footsteps. One of their children had even been blessed by the goddess with an affinity for light. Their life was wonderful, and their future set. And he? He had come to take that all away. Or at least the purity of it all.
Wang Jun let out a soundless sigh as he walked into the home’s study where a bald man, Inquisitor Deng, meditated. His graceful figure was covered in a soft halo of light. That very same light filled the entire room, illuminating everything within it. All save Wang Jun, of course, who took a seat in front of the man, observing him, pondering.
“I never pray,” Wang Jun said, “but I was wondering if you might give me some guidance.” The man didn’t answer. How could he? Wang Jun hadn’t permitted him to hear. “I ask you less as a spiritual advisor and more as a sounding board. Perhaps by telling you of my worries instead of keeping them inside, I’ll be able to sort out the ethics of the situation.” No response again.
“The key question,” Wang Jun continued, “is whether it is permissible to do bad things to a good man, and by doing so save many good men from harm, all the while incidentally landing some good people in serious trouble.” He held out his palm, and shadows danced within them, forming two large figures and many smaller ones. Characters flew above their heads, the two larger figures bearing the same mark as the smaller figures. Only a few of them, who stood slightly taller than the rest, shared a mark with the pair.
“This is all very confusing, so I’ll summarize. You see, Wang Ling definitely deserves to die.” He held up the first of the larger figures. “The Patriarch of the Wang Clan, Wang Wuling, is supporting his actions, so he also deserves to die. But should the rest of the family be implicated? Should his employees be implicated? I don’t feel any guilt for dragging down those who knowingly did bad things, but what of the innocent? And how much harm is tolerable?”
He paused. “I like to think the harm is outweighed by the benefit of ridding the North of Wang Ling and Wang Wuling. They facilitate the sufferings of many by plundering souls and may even be colluding with the South to destabilize the Golden Kingdom, softening up the North for their inevitable attack. Surely it’s worth turning them in, even if a few auditors,
