The Puppet Dao

Chapter 12 – The First and the Forgotten

Zhao’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. His sword arm stayed frozen, blade held out between them, but even he knew it wouldn’t matter. Not here. Not in this place.

Prototype B said nothing. He simply took a single step back—not in fear, but in recognition. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Not a warning. Not a curse. Only a quiet disbelief.

Lin Cang stared at the man in front of him, the one who had stepped from the mist and seized the black shard like it belonged there. No. Not like. As if it had been waiting to return to him the entire time.

Lin’s voice was quiet, but steady. “You’re not part of the Carver’s records. No chamber, no seal, not even a mention. If you were the first... where have you been?”

The man walked closer now, slowly, calmly, as if the mist beneath his feet was a familiar road. “Records are for survivors. And I wasn’t built to survive. I was built to begin.”

Zhao gritted his teeth. “Begin what?”

The man stopped just within reach of Lin’s outstretched hand and lifted the black shard slightly. It pulsed once in his palm, like it recognized him. “Begin everything.”

B finally found his voice. “I know that tone,” he said slowly, almost like a whisper. “It’s too clear. Too even. You’re not echoing... you’re anchored. You’re whole.”

The man looked at B, tilting his head slightly. “You’re a late version, aren’t you? Faulty imprint path. Incomplete shaping in the spine. You probably forgot your own creator’s voice.”

B’s jaw tensed. “I didn’t forget. I chose not to carry it.”

The man’s smile widened, not mockingly, but with something like sympathy. “Then you don’t deserve it.”

Lin stepped forward. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“I told you,” the man said. “I’m the first. That is my name. I was made before names were branded into Form. Before voices were locked into metal. Before the Carver learned to fear what he’d made.”

Zhao raised his blade again. “Then you’re just another puppet.”

The man turned to Zhao, unbothered, unafraid. “Tell me, swordsman, does a puppet bleed when it cuts itself open just to stop what’s inside?”

Zhao lowered the blade slightly.

Lin said, “You were sealed.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The man opened his palm. The black shard floated again, and this time, its glow spread into the air. Not runes. Not Qi. Something denser—something heavy enough that space bent around it.

“I was sealed,” the man said, “because I learned how to erase shaping.”

B stepped forward fast. “You discovered reversal?”

“No,” the man said calmly. “I became it.”

Zhao’s voice cracked. “What the hell does that mean?”

The man turned slowly to Lin Cang.

And smiled again.

“Everything you’ve done, every part you’ve added, every mark you’ve followed... those were steps on a diagram I designed. Before the Carver even realized what he was copying.”

Lin didn’t blink. “You’re saying you were the origin.”

“No,” the man said, quieter now. “I was the accident that became the origin.”

Zhao shouted, “Then why are we here?! Why come back now?! Why take the shard?”

The man’s expression finally changed.

He looked... tired.

“Because I finally heard my name spoken again. Because someone—you—called me back with a voice that was never meant to be yours.”

Lin asked, “Then what do you want from me?”

The man stepped closer.

And for the first time, his voice dropped low enough that only Lin could hear.

“I want to know if you’re better than I was.”

Zhao stepped in. “That’s it? That’s your big test? You want to judge him?”

The man’s eyes flicked toward Zhao without malice. “No. I want to offer him something.”

B shouted, “Don’t!”

Lin didn’t move. “What kind of offer?”

The black shard floated again, spinning slowly, its runes beginning to glow with red and black at once.

“An upgrade,” the man said. “A real one. Not a part. Not a graft. Not a tool. A rewrite. A core designed for something older than cultivation.”

Zhao’s voice rose. “Don’t listen to him!”

But Lin asked, “And what would that cost me?”

The man smiled one last time.

And answered quietly—

> “Everything that still makes you think you're human.”

Zhao didn’t say anything at first. His jaw worked silently, the blade in his hand trembling—not from weakness, but from everything he couldn’t name. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Maybe all three. He stared at Lin, waiting for him to respond, to shout, to refuse, to do anything except stand there and think about it.

But Lin didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Zhao took a slow step forward. “Lin. Say no. Just say it. Now.”

The man who called himself the First tilted his head slightly. “He’s thinking.”

B spat, “He shouldn’t be.”

Zhao glanced at him. “Then stop it! You said you were a prototype. You said you know how this works. Pull the plug. Cut the link.”

“I can’t,” B said tightly. “Not anymore. The moment Lin accepted the core’s thread, his body moved into dual protocol. The Carver designed that link to grow the moment it’s doubted.”

Lin finally spoke.

And his voice was steady.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Zhao’s head jerked toward him. “What do you mean you haven’t decided?! He just told you the price!”

“I heard him.”

“Then why are you even thinking about it?!”

Lin didn’t look away from the First.

“Because I want to know what I am.”

Zhao’s shoulders dropped. “You already know what you are.”

Lin turned to him. “No, Zhao. I know what I’m not. I’m not a cultivator. I’m not a martial artist. I’m not a soul-born being. But that doesn’t tell me what I am.”

Zhao took a shaky step closer. “You’re my friend. That should be enough.”

The First stepped forward. “He’s telling the truth, you know. The rewrite will overwrite your ethical core. You’ll still sound like you. You’ll still walk like you. But your reactions will be… refined. Your empathy will shift. You’ll care about precision first, consequences second.”

B added sharply, “That’s not an upgrade. That’s a weaponization.”

The First didn’t argue.

He simply turned back to Lin and said, “But you’ll never be unsure again. Never hesitate. Never need to wonder if what you’re doing makes sense. Because your entire being will be aligned with the Form.”

Lin stared at him.

Then he asked one question.

“What happens if I say no?”

The First’s smile didn’t change.

But the world did.

For just a second.

The mist that had settled around them lifted—just a little—and what was beneath it wasn’t stone.

It was bone.

Zhao froze. “What is this?”

The First answered calmly. “The last time someone refused.”

B whispered, “You brought us into a memory field.”

“Not a memory,” the First said. “A forecast.”

Zhao stared at the sea of bones stretching into the horizon. “All this… because someone didn’t rewrite?”

The First nodded once. “They stayed kind. They hesitated. And then they died. And so did everyone around them.”

B growled, “You showed him this to force the answer.”

“I showed him what happens when someone shaped like him thinks they get to stay neutral.”

Lin whispered, “This already happened, didn’t it?”

“No,” the First said. “But it will.”

The bones beneath the mist trembled.

And then they began to rise.

Zhao stumbled back. “What are you—what’s happening?!”

The First said softly, “They’re coming.”

“Who?!”

“The Others,” the First answered. “The Carver’s final children. He built them to replace the world. And now that your signal’s gone out—now that the Seventh Form is awake—they’re moving.”

Zhao looked to Lin again, panic in his voice. “Lin. You can’t accept this. We’ll find another way.”

Lin looked at the black shard in the First’s hand.

It was pulsing now.

Like it was part of a heart that hadn’t existed yet.

Zhao grabbed Lin’s shoulder. “If you take it, you won’t come back the same.”

Lin finally looked at him.

“I know.”

“Then don’t.”

Lin took a deep breath.

“I can’t stop what’s coming.”

The First held the shard out.

“But maybe I can hold it.”

Zhao said, “If you do this, I’ll follow you. But I won’t trust you. Not fully. Not again.”

Lin’s voice cracked just slightly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Then he reached out.

Touched the shard.

And the rewrite began.

Light exploded outward.

The bones beneath the mist screamed.

And a voice far, far away—

One that hadn’t spoken since the world was shaped—

Woke up.

> “Who... altered the last blueprint?”