Chapter 16 The Eye Awakening
Two soldiers stood at the door of Bai Xiao's house. Inside, Doctor Bai was talking with Centurion Dong Li.
Su Zhen was watering the garden, waiting for news from his teacher. Finally, the door opened, and Centurion Dong stepped out, casting a sideways glance at Su Zhen before heading off.
Bai Xiao followed him out, watching the commander's back for a moment. Then he turned to Zhen and called out:
"Come here."
Zhen walked over, eyeing his teacher curiously.
"Here's your badge. We're now temporarily assigned to the garrison as medical staff," Bai Xiao said, tossing him a lacquered wooden tag with characters burned into it.
Su Zhen caught it smoothly and read:
"Civilian medical worker conscripted for wartime service. Centurion Dong Li. Mountain Legion."
On the back:
"Su Zhen. Age 14. Black hair. Gray eyes. Height: 5'8"."
"Remember the verification code—'The moles dug six holes,'" Bai Xiao continued. "With this tag, you're free to carry weapons and move about the town."
"'The moles dug six holes'... What if I need to leave the town?" Zhen asked cautiously.
Bai Xiao gave him a stern look.
"That's up to you. But if you get caught, I may not be able to pull you out in time. Soldiers are authorized to kill any suspicious person trying to enter or leave the town."
Su Zhen bowed and walked off, deep in thought.
He hadn't been able to visit his parents, who lived outside the town perimeter in the mining district. Thanks to Bai Xiao's connections, no one from his family had been conscripted. They were professional blacksmiths and, by law, exempt from manual labor units. But Commander Dong had been grabbing anyone he could to bring the militia up to three hundred men, so anything was possible. Uncle Lin, the chief smelter, hadn't been taken, but Dong had seized a few apprentice smelters.
After finishing in the garden, Su Zhen changed into decent clothes, slung the tag around his neck, and headed for the market square.
Three days had passed since the town elder announced war. The townspeople were still dazed, like they'd been struck dumb. Soldiers roamed the streets, rounding up draft dodgers. But with the medic tag around his neck, Zhen felt at ease.
At the leatherworker's, Zhen finally attached the sheath to the harness and bounced around to test the feel.
"Feels right. Let's see the backpack."
"Here it is, young master... Turned out great. Thickest buffalo hide I had. Triple-stitched with heavy silk thread. Lid, inner membrane, separate compartments—just like you asked." The leatherworker clearly took pride in his work.
At the carpenter's, Su Zhen picked up a box. It fit perfectly into the pack's bottom compartment. Everything was ready for the delivery to Elder Ge.
After that, he helped Bai Xiao examine conscripts and soldiers, brewed decoctions for diarrhea, and handled the paperwork his teacher offloaded onto him.
***
Bai Xiao gave Su Zhen the final pill. Zhen didn't swallow it right away—he needed to reach the cliff base first.
The mines were out of the question—too many soldiers. He'd have to cut through the forest, veer off halfway up the mining road, and climb the mountain. But even before the mines, the road was patrolled.
The town was too large for Dong's two hundred men to guard its entire perimeter, so laborers had been added to patrols.
Mostly miners, shepherds, and other menial workers—people who couldn't afford bribes.
The soldiers knew Zhen by sight; some could recognize him from a distance. But covering his face would only draw suspicion. It seemed impossible to leave town without a fight—if not for his qinggong, which he had mastered at the sixth level of the Mountain Eagle internal style.
Avoiding patrols, Zhen reached the newly built earthen wall. The finished section was tall, with no permanent guards—it was considered secure thanks to the spiked ditch below.
Standing by the wall with his pack on, Zhen focused on the internal flow of Qi and suppressed the downward pressure of the world's energy. It wasn't true flight—just lightness—but it was enough. With a single leap, he cleared the wall, then jumped from even greater height, arms outstretched.
"Phew... qinggong needs constant practice," he thought, landing a few steps past the ditch, not too gracefully.
"Unknown near the ditch!" a soldier shouted from the wall.
"Haaalt!"
Zhen sprinted for the trees without looking back. Two crossbow bolts whistled past, but he felt their trajectories and knew they'd miss. He didn't waste energy on bursts of speed, keeping a steady pace, one hand steadying the sword at his hip.
Getting back into town would be harder. Once they matched his description to the missing conscripted medic, they'd know. But he had no choice—he had to get out.
***
Zhen stepped in a circle, slow and precise, weight shifting from foot to foot, movements flowing.
Each step aligned with the stars and the hexagrams of the I Ching.
He had to guide the true Jing up through winding channels, chant the mantra, and visualize the mandala from the treatise Uncle Lin had given him.
But just like with the sixth stage, the treatise and the diagram were flawed. Only Elder Ge had helped him correct the errors. Without his guidance, opening the Heavenly Eye would've been impossible.
Zhen had taken the pill an hour earlier and completed the ninth form of Hidden Yang Fire. His body was prepared; his Jing active and easily directed. His mind was already cleansed.
Then—he felt it.
A small point deep in the brain. A subtle leak of special Qi. The Eye.
Zhen spread the mantra through his mind, linked it to his heart, and tuned the mandala image until it locked into alignment.
Minutes passed. The Eye vibrated. Certain syllables resonated. He adjusted their pitch inwardly, matching the tone.
"Om Fo Pra Jna Maha Tian Yan…"
The Eye trembled like a sphere. Blood dripped from his nose, but he didn't stop. He adjusted the mandala until it snapped into place like a puzzle piece.
The vibration stopped—and True Jing shot up his spine. When it reached the Eye, the opening bloomed like a lotus of pure light. His brain became a single resonant chamber. Flashes of light flickered, then merged into a clear image.
The pressure eased—and suddenly, Zhen realized:
he wasn't seeing with his fleshly eyes.
Nor was he imagining.
He was seeing with his divine soul.