Divination

The clouds drifted lazily below them, a sea of white stretching into the horizon. Mingyao's pulse quickened as she faced the final trigram—Qian.

Unlike the others, this puzzle defied reason, its complexity a labyrinth without end. Mingyao forehead wrinkled, contemplating how to solve it, but the answer seemed impossible to grasp.

It wasn't just that the puzzle was difficult—though it was—but not for the reasons one might expect.

She reached for a black stone, but the moment her fingers grazed its smooth surface, the board transformed. Layers of games stacked atop one another, shifting and folding like the fabric of reality itself. Her mind reeled, unable to grasp their meaning. She glanced at her master, hoping for guidance or at least a hint.

He looked at her, then at the board, before repeating his cryptic words:

"The answers are in heaven, and the answers to those are on earth."

What did that mean? Mingyao struggled to decipher his words. She frowned. She had already uncovered the eight trigrams. Wasn't this trial supposed to end here?

Her master extended his hand, gently touching hers. The action felt surreal, and her frustration slowly ebbed away. Then, in a hushed voice, he asked:

"Do you believe in gods?"

She blinked.

Mingyao was taken aback. The question was so unexpected that it caught her off guard. What did that have to do with anything?

As if reading her thoughts, her master continued:

"The game before you is shifting and changing, not due to any logical pattern, but because heaven dictates it."

"Heaven dictates it?" she echoed.

Her master nodded. "So, do you believe in gods?"

"Gods?"

She wanted to scoff, to dismiss the notion outright. She had never seen gods, never heard their voices. If they existed, they had ignored her all her life. To her, they were no more than stories—at least, not until they made their presence known.

Her answer was clear.

"No, I don't believe in gods."

Her master smiled. "What if I told you they exist? That this board, this game, your life itself is written by forces beyond your comprehension?"

Her breath hitched. "What do you mean?"

"Your life, your memories, your struggles, your relationships—they are all threads woven by an unseen hand. A story crafted by pen and paper."

She stiffened. "You speak in riddles, Master."

Her master remained calm. "Just like the game before you, just like this tribulation as a whole, your life is at the whims of powerful forces beyond your comprehension."

"Do you mean like fate?"

"You may think of it that way. But soon, all will be revealed."

Mingyao was bewildered. What was he trying to say? Why did he have to be so cryptic? Then again, he was a diviner. Perhaps this was his way of explaining fate and the will of heaven.

She turned back to the board before her, and to her surprise, the overlapping layers of puzzles had vanished. The game had returned to its original state—the one she had been playing and winning.

Her master's voice was soft. "After a journey of transformation and change, we have returned to our origins. Let's finish the game."

Mingyao was still confused, but at least in this game, she was winning.

They continued playing until she placed the final stone. The board trembled. Then, with a deafening crack, it shattered.

The sky split open, and an intense glow illuminated the heavens. A vast, intricate web was revealed, and within it, two majestic dragons emerged.

And then—

In the blink of an eye, they were back under the tree, surrounded by the lush bamboo forest where Mingyao had first arrived. The familiar house stood before her once more.

Her master looked at her with satisfaction. "You have completed this game, but an even greater and far more complex game awaits. As promised, I will grant you what you desire, as long as it is within my power."

Mingyao looked at her master. She initially came with three questions, but after this experience, even more had arisen. Could she ask for answers to them all?

"Master," she began, "how can I reclaim my power and status as a Grandmaster?"

Her master closed his eyes. The wind played with his dark hair as his fingers twitched, divining the will of heaven.

"You already are one," he said. "By heaven's decree. But in the realm of men, your body must recultivate. Your path will mirror your past, but with deviations. And with every breakthrough, you will face tribulations. The journey will be swift, but not without pain."

Tribulations at every stage? Mingyao swallowed hard. "Why?"

"There is no time. Ask your next question."

She hesitated, then took a breath. "Why am I a girl?"

The master pondered, his fingers tapping as he calculated and analyzed the will of heaven.

"You possess a rare constitution. As I mentioned before, your body is blessed for rapid cultivation. However, at birth, you were two but became one. The yang aspect of you grew, while the yin withered. Now that the yang is fading, the yin must take its place."

Mingyao's blood ran cold. "Are you saying—?"

"If you remained male, you would die."

Her breath caught. "Is this because of the arrow?"

Her master's expression darkened. "Your final question," he said. "Time is short."

Mingyao's mind whirled. Was this change truly permanent? She swallowed hard "Is this female body permanent?"

The master calibrated the will of heaven once more before answering.

"Your question is flawed. The male and female aspects of this body are both natural and divinely ordained."

The first rays of dawn painted the sky in soft hues. As light touched her master's form, his body began to dissolve, fading into the morning air.

"Wait, Master! One last question—when will I return to being male?"

His voice, now no more than a whisper on the wind, "When the moon glows bright and turns to blood, all will be revealed," the master said as the last remnants of his form vanished.

Silence.

Mingyao slowly opened her eyes to the sight of the rising sun. She looked around, trying to comprehend her surroundings. Bodies lay scattered before her, but before she could make sense of the situation—

The glint of a blade caught her eye.

A sharp glint of silver. The whisper of steel slicing the air.

Mingyao's body reacted before her mind caught up—she twisted, her breath caught in her throat as the blade missed her cheek by a hair's breadth. A strand of her hair floated down, severed cleanly.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs as she spun to face her attacker.

It was Xue She.