Please Stop Spreading Rumors About Me — They Keep Coming True Chapter 28: Ji Lan’s Trap

Ji Lan’s trap was, I have to admit, genuinely brilliant. It was the work of thirty years of mastery. It should have worked.

It is a asure of exactly how dood everyone around is that it made things spectacularly, catastrophically worse.

Here was her thinking, and it was sound. She’d watched my power for weeks and worked out the shape of it even without seeing the Scroll: my strength cos from belief. The crowd believes, and reality bends to keep great. Fine. So — she reasoned — the way to expose wasn’t to attack my skill (I had none to attack) or to out-fight (the belief-wall stopped that). The way to expose was to attack the belief itself. Crack the crowd’s certainty, even for a mont, and the wall would drop, and the fraud would stand there naked in front of ten million people with nothing holding him up.

And Ji Lan, a high Storied legend with thirty years of crowd-craft, knew exactly how to crack a crowd’s certainty.

She arranged a public exhibition. Between rounds, the tournant held showcases — famous nas doing demonstrations for the broadcast — and Ji Lan, being who she was, easily secured one, and easily secured as her "guest of honor." She frad it as a tribute. The great Ji Lan, honoring the rising demon-slayer. The crowd loved it. Ten million tuned in.

And then, in front of all of them, live, she sprang it.

"The demon-slayer is humble," she announced, gesturing to , warm and dazzling, the consummate perforr. "Too humble, perhaps. He always says it was nothing — a sneeze, a stumble, luck. And I got to thinking, friends—" she turned to the crowd, and I felt the trap close, because she was good, she was so good "—what if he’s right? What if we’ve never actually seen the demon-slayer try? What if we’ve only ever seen him fall, and sneeze, and get lucky? Wouldn’t it be wonderful—" she smiled at , a blade behind it "—to see what he can do when he ans it? Just once. A small thing. Demon-slayer—" she produced a single, ordinary candle, lit it, set it on a stand twenty feet away "—would you put out this fla? Deliberately. On purpose. With your power. So the whole world can finally see you choose to be great?"

It was perfect. I understood it instantly, and so did Yun Shu, whose face went white at the edge of the stage. Because I couldn’t. My power isn’t mine. I can’t aim it, can’t summon it, can’t choose it — it only cos by accident, charged by belief, when I’m panicking. Asked to deliberately, calmly, put out one candle, I would do nothing, and the nothing would be visible, and the crowd’s certainty would finally et a fact it couldn’t bend, and crack.

She’d found the one question I couldn’t survive. On purpose. Live.

I stood there. Ten million people leaned in. The candle flickered. I had no idea what to do, because there was nothing to do — I had no power to call, no skill to fake it, nothing but the truth, which was that I was a fraud who couldn’t put out a candle on purpose.

So I told the truth.

I turned to the crowd — to all ten million of them — and I said, tired and honest and certain it was the end:

"I can’t."

I gestured at the candle. "I can’t put it out. Lady Ji Lan’s right. I’ve never done any of it on purpose. I fell down. I sneezed. I got lucky. There’s no — there’s no choosing. I’m not a master. I never was. I’m just a man things keep happening to." I spread my hands, helpless, in front of the entire continent. "I’m sorry. You all believed in sothing that isn’t real. The truth is I can’t even put out a candle."

There was a silence.

And then the trap, and Ji Lan, and the entire law of this cursed world, did the thing I should have known they would do, because it is the only thing they ever do.

The crowd did not see a fraud confessing.

The crowd saw the most powerful, most humble man in the world, standing on a stage where a clever rival had tried to trick him into showing off — and refusing. Refusing to perform. Refusing to prove himself. So secure in his own greatness, so far beyond the need for applause, that he’d looked ten million people in the eye and said I have nothing to prove to you, and called it weakness, because true masters always call their power weakness —

The gold letters detonated across the sky, the brightest I’d ever seen:

✦ DING. ✦

"The demon-slayer, baited to flaunt his power, declined — saying only ’I can’t,’ for one so great has no need to prove himself to anyone. Even his denials are humility beyond asure. So mighty was this refusal that the watching world wept."

Belief: SHATTERING ALL RECORDS.

Talent. She tried to expose you and you confessed you were a fraud and they have decided it’s the most heroic thing you’ve ever done. I have never seen numbers like this. I’m a little frightened. — Scroll

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And the candle — the candle Ji Lan had lit to expose — guttered and went out on its own, in the sheer pressure of ten million people believing, all at once, that of course it would, before the demon-slayer, how could a candle do anything else.

The crowd lost their minds. Ten million people, weeping at my humility, more certain of my greatness than they had ever been, all because a master of the craft had tried to expose and I had told the plain truth and the truth had been swallowed whole and turned into the greatest legend of the tournant so far.

I turned to look at Ji Lan.

The expression on her face is one I will carry with forever. Because Ji Lan — brilliant, furious, thirty-years-of-mastery Ji Lan — was not looking at with triumph, and not, anymore, with fury. She was staring at , and at the shattered-record numbers in the sky, and at the candle that had put itself out, with the slow, dawning, dumbstruck awe of an artist who has just watched soone do, by accident, the single most impossible thing she has ever seen in her life.

"You confessed," she said faintly. "You stood there and confessed, and it made you bigger." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Thirty years. I have spent thirty years learning to shape belief, and I have never — never — I couldn’t do that on purpose if I had a hundred more. You did it by telling the truth because you didn’t know what else to do." Her voice had gone strange and soft. "What are you?"

"I keep asking everyone that," I said wearily.

Ji Lan kept staring at . And sothing in her face that had been pure rage since the day she’d arrived — the rage of a craftsman insulted by an accident — finally, quietly, cracked, and underneath it was sothing I hadn’t seen in her before, sothing closer to wonder, and closer, maybe, to the start of a different feeling entirely.

"I’m not trying to expose you anymore," she said slowly, like the words surprised her. "I don’t think I can. I don’t think anyone can." She shook her head, half a laugh escaping her, bewildered and bright. "I ca here to destroy you, demon-slayer. And instead I think I’m going to have to help you — because clearly you have no idea what you’re doing, and you’re about to do it in front of the most dangerous woman alive, and sobody who actually understands belief had better be standing next to you when she decides what you’re worth."

Behind , the Scroll let out a long, deeply satisfied sigh.

"Finally," it murmured, gazing at Ji Lan with open adoration. "Talent. She’s on the team. Oh, this is going to be wonderful."

High above, in the dark sealed box, the First Author watched a man grow mightier by confessing he was nothing, and I felt her attention sharpen on like a blade testing an edge — and I knew, with cold certainty, that whatever she was deciding about , she had just moved one large step closer to deciding it.

I really hoped it was the keeping kind.

I had a feeling I’d find out soon.