home

search

The Price of Memory and Whispers of the Past

  As Mo Yan walked straight through the crowd of disciples, the multitude naturally parted on its own. The air inside the academy settled with his presence. The atmosphere completely changed. Then, slow whispers began among the students as they gazed at Mo Yan:

  Three students were conversing in hushed tones:

  "Hey, that's him... Mo Yan."

  "Yes, the one who tried to save a demon..."

  "I even heard that his mother was the Queen of that heretical sect..."

  "Yes, Queen Guz..."

  And then, suddenly, Mo Yan stopped in the crowd. His head turned slightly towards the three students. When Mo Yan's sideways glance fell upon them cold and effortless the boy who had been whispering was instantly terrified, seeing Mo Yan look at him.

  His face turned pale, as if his soul had fled his body. Everyone went quiet right there. Silence permeated every corner.

  Just then, Shen Jichuan came forward to face Mo Yan, and seeing him, Mo Yan bowed respectfully in salutation. The twenty disciples behind him also bowed with the same reverence.

  Today, Mo Yan had been invited to the academy to complete a sacred task. And Master Rong Ke Chang, the Chief Instructor here, had personally called upon Mo Yan. This was because Mo Yan was needed to re-scribe the sect's ancient scripture, a text that once held the deepest secrets of the sect. It had been partially burned in an unfortunate accident. Although only parts were damaged, Master Rong Ke Chang wanted it re-written. And no one could do this job better than Mo Yan.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Mo Yan was to remain here until the scripture was complete. He would stay here for the next three months.

  Master Shen Jichuan addressed Mo Yan and his disciples directly. Master Rong Ke Chang also came and stood beside him:

  "Our sacred scripture was destroyed in an unfortunate fire, a scripture that contained truths about our sect... known to no one else. I have no children. If I did, I would entrust this work to them. But instead, I trust you, Mo Yan. Because no one is more worthy of doing this than you. This scripture must be written in a clean and beautiful script, and I see that quality in no one but you. So, from today, the responsibility of writing this scripture is yours."

  Mo Yan merely nodded his head. He spoke no words. He showed no emotion. He displayed no arrogance. There was only silence and tranquility. The same temperament that Mo Yan possessed was also reflected in his disciples.

  After hearing this, Mo Yan walked towards his chamber. But his gait was slow, as if an inanimate puppet were being controlled by strings. His eyes were filled with expectation, and his heart with love. He entered his chamber, and his disciples stood guard right outside the chamber and throughout the corridor. This was their duty: to allow no one into their Master's chamber without permission.

  That night, disciples stood along the entire corridor, quiet and composed. A single room was locked under tight security. Mo Yan's disciples stood silently outside, alert like statues.

  Inside, only an empty scripture book lay on a table before Mo Yan. The entire room was brightly illuminated by many beautiful candles; every corner was gleaming. And sitting directly opposite Mo Yan was Shen Jichuan himself.

Recommended Popular Novels