My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

This city is called Xuanmen Pass.

The name is engraved on the mottled plaque on the south gate. Most of the characters have been eroded by wind and rain. Only the left part of the character "悬" (xuán, meaning "suspended") remains, and only the part of the character "关" (guān, meaning "gate") remains. The strokes in the middle are blurred into a mess.

But that's what people in the city call it: Xuanmen Pass, a pass suspended in the Ten Thousand Mountains.

The city is very large, not much smaller than Jingyang Prefecture.

Some houses were empty, with rotten doors and windows, and the yards were overgrown with weeds.

Although the inner city has fewer people than the outer city, it occupies a considerable area and offers a better standard of living.

The Suspended Gate Pass is mainly inhabited by sorcerers.

Warriors are merely supporting characters here, running errands for sorcerers, protecting them, and taking on menial tasks that sorcerers are unwilling to do.

The rules in the city were set by the sorcerer. They were simple, just a few: no fighting among themselves, no letting evil spirits into the city, and no oppressing the people.

Those who break the rules will be driven out of the city and thrown into the darkness of the Ten Thousand Mountains, never to return.

People from the outer city would go to the vicinity of the inner city to find work.

The inner city is safer than the outer city; the walls are higher, the lights are brighter, and there are more sorcerers.

Merchants, shopkeepers, and peddlers who traded in the inner city needed manpower to move goods, keep watch at night, and clean.

People from outside the city who do these jobs can earn a few dozen coins a day, enough to buy a few steamed buns or a dose of medicine for a sick person.

Work isn't available every day. When you're lucky, you can work for several days in a row, but when you're unlucky, you can wait all night and still not find an employer.

Amu is having bad luck tonight.

He squatted for a full hour at the goods distribution center on the outskirts of the inner city, watching every person who came out of the alley, waiting for someone to shout, "Someone come and move the goods."

No one shouted.

The goods at the distribution center were piled up like small mountains, but the owners preferred to move them themselves rather than pay people to do it.

It's not that they're stingy, it's that they don't have any money.

Life in the city is tough; everyone is struggling to make ends meet, and every penny saved counts.

Amu stood up, moved his legs which had gone numb from squatting a few times, patted the dirt off his buttocks, and walked towards the outer city.

He is fifteen years old this year. He is not tall and is as thin as a bamboo pole, but his shoulders are very broad, which is the result of years of carrying goods.

His face still had a childlike quality, but his eyes were not like a child's. His pupils were very dark and deep, as if they contained a lot of things, or as if they contained nothing at all.

He walked slowly, each step firm and deliberate, as if afraid the path beneath his feet might suddenly crack open.

There were no lights in the outer city.

The moon was obscured by clouds, and the stars were also invisible.

The road was black, the houses on both sides were black, and even the sky above was black.

Amu pulled a small stone from his pocket. It was about half the size of his palm, grayish-white, and had a very smooth surface.

This is a protective stone, found in every household in the city. It has been blessed by sorcerers with magic and can drive away weak evil spirits.

Amu held the stone in his hand. The stone was slightly warm, not scalding, but warm and gentle, like holding someone's hand.

He knew the stone was working; those things lurking in the shadows dared not approach him.

He walked through three alleys and turned two corners, and a row of low adobe houses appeared in front of him.

That was where he lived, on the outer edge of the city, near the city wall.

The house was built with mud and straw, the roof was thatched, and there were several cracks in the walls that were stuffed with rags, but the wind still blew in when it was windy.

He walked to the door of the easternmost room, stopped, and did not push the door open.

He raised his hand and knocked three times on the door.

It's very light, with two short parts and one long part.

This was the secret code he and his sister had agreed upon.

It's not that I'm afraid a thief will break into the house, it's that I'm afraid something might sneak into the house.

Some evil spirits can mimic human voices and knocking sounds.

The secret codes were taught by the sorcerers, and each household had its own set, which they wouldn't tell outsiders.

A series of light footsteps came from inside the door, like footsteps on dry grass.

Then came the younger sister's voice, very low, with a hint of nervousness.

"elder brother?"

Amu responded, "It's me."

The door opened.

A little girl stood behind the door, about seven or eight years old, thin and small, with yellowish hair tied in two little pigtails with two red ropes.

Her face was very pale, not the healthy, rosy kind of pale, but the bloodless kind of pale, as if she hadn't seen the sun in a long time.

She was wearing a faded blue cotton dress with short sleeves that revealed the delicate bones on her wrists.

When she saw Amu, the corners of her mouth turned up, revealing two gaps where her front teeth were missing.

"Brother, you're back. Is there anything to eat today?"

Amu patted her head and took out an oil paper package from his pocket.

The oil paper package was small, about the size of a palm, and was warm from his body heat.

He stuffed the oil paper package into his sister's hand and pushed her inside.

"Yes, there are two steamed buns. One for you, and one for Mom. I've already eaten."

His voice was soft, but there was an undeniable authority in it.

His sister didn't expose him.

She knew her brother was lying. He always said he had eaten, but every time he came back, his lips were dry and his stomach was growling.

She took the oil paper package, but didn't open it. She placed it in a bowl next to the stove and covered it with a cloth.

"How is Mother today?" Amu walked to the door of the inner room and peeked inside.

There was a woman lying on the bed, in her forties, but she looked like she was sixty.

His hair was gray, his face was covered with wrinkles, and his cheekbones protruded high.

She closed her eyes, her breathing was very light, and her chest rose and fell very slowly.

There was a bowl of medicine next to it, which had already gone cold, was dark in color, and smelled bitter.

My younger sister followed me over and whispered, "Mom coughed several times today, less than yesterday. She brewed the medicine but didn't drink it, saying it was too bitter. But I know she doesn't want to burden us."

Amu didn't say anything. He went into the inner room, picked up the bowl of cold medicine, went to the kitchen to heat it up, brought it back, and placed it by the bedside.

He didn't wake his mother; he just sat by the bed, looked at her for a while, then stood up and went to the outer room.

"Go to sleep. You need to go to Granny Li's to learn to read tomorrow," he said to his sister.

The younger sister nodded, but she didn't go to sleep.

She stood at the doorway, her ear pressed against the door panel, as if listening to something.

Amu came over and pulled her. "What's wrong?"

The younger sister didn't answer; her ear was still pressed against the door, and her eyes were wide open, as if she was trying hard to make out something.

After a while, she looked up at Amu. "Brother, it sounds like someone's knocking on the door next door."

Amu was stunned for a moment.

The Liu family lived next door. Old Liu was a carpenter with some skills, and they lived a fairly comfortable life.

But it's so late now, who would knock on the door?

He walked over, opened the door a crack, and looked outside.

There was a person standing in front of the door next door.

He stood in the moonlight, wearing a bluish-gray Taoist robe and with his hands behind his back.

The moonlight was faint, but when it shone on him, his Taoist robe seemed to glow.

His hair was tied up with a wooden hairpin, with a few stray strands hanging down beside his temples, blown up by the night wind and then falling back down.

He raised his hand and knocked three times on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

Very gentle, very polite, unhurried.