Tao Wong
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The Fourth Wall - Chapter 37 preview
🕑 Added 2024-08-09 13:00:02 +0000 UTCThe mountain that they stood at the foot of was a shorn and desolate thing. Bare rock, dry and dusty earth and a pounding waterfall that swept away nutritious topsoil as foreboding clouds hung around the peak, throwing lightning and rolling thunder in a continual symphony of light and sound. The wind whistled and howled along numerous crags and unlike the winds of the mortal realm, cared not at all for Wu Ying’s presence.
A gentle entreaty and offer of chi was sucked away, driven from his grasp in a swirl of power that saw his energy dissipate within moments. His own spiritual sense had shrunk, his aura compressed near his body rather than risk being torn to shred by the pounding waves of hungry desire that emanated from the peak.
It reminded Wu Ying all too clearly of the ravenous dao of Cai Meng De, the demonic king that had wanted to rule over all the worlds. Nothing could ever have been enough for him, not even the Middle Kingdom in its entirety.
The same unrelenting hunger of a taotei sat at the mountain top, and it was there that Wu Ying was to approach. In the climb, as the winds scoured his soul and body, as his fingers bled from the sharpened and broken rocks, as his knees and hips ached, he would be tested.
“Thinking anew, boy?” Yeye Su said, sardonically. “Not too late to run.”
“Just taking it all in,” Wu Ying replied. “The same could be said of you, no?”
“No.” The man replied, firmly. “It is the peak or nothing for me.” A hand came up, touching his chest where the outline of a box could be seen under the pressure of the winds. Noticing Wu Ying’s gaze, he snatched his hand away and glared at the other, suspiciously.
“What I require is all within me,” Wu Ying said, assuring the other. Seeing that the other did not relent, he turned to the small path, barely large enough for a person that wended its way up the mountain beside the waterfall. The ground here was wet with spray, but further up, small pebbles and dry sand made footing treacherous.
Even so, “There is no point delaying. And if we hang out here too long, your family will come and steal you - and maybe me - away.”
So saying, Wu Ying strode forward. He understood that there was no point in attempting to fly to reach the peak. In this, it was the journey that mattered more than the destination. There was nothing at the peak but barren ruins. The ascent, the testing of himself as he traversed this gloomy land was what mattered most.
As for Yeye Su, he fell in behind Wu Ying not long after. He did not attempt to fly, for the same thieving fingers of dao that snatched away the wind cultivator’s offering and pressed their aura close would rob the old man of his energy long before he reached the summit.
By foot they would traverse the mountain, testing themselves and their conviction.
***
Initially, the journey was simple. A tugging wind that threatened to take their energy and warmth, wet earth that robbed momentum from movement and sharp stones that dug into soft soled cloth shoes were minor inconveniences. Yet, with each step, the burden of the mountain grew.
Wet earth disappeared, the spray from the roaring waterfall fading. The trail filled with dry, dusty and loose soil that threatened to slip beneath their feet, sliding across bare and hardened rock. Each moment, they had to focus upon, loose rocks and debris and the occassional falling stone a hazard to their journey.
More than the physical concerns, the chill of this gloomy, barely lit land was the pressure against their spiritual auras and their minds. The hungering dao sucked at every stray strand of energy, the realm devoid of free floating chi such that the pair had to constrain their aura with great vigilance. Anything - any iota - that leaked was robbed from them, never to be seen again.
It was not just constant vigilance and pressure that preyed upon the two for as they traversed the ground. Subtle whisperings that Wu Ying had not noticed at the start began to invade his mind. The words were incomprehensible, the tone muted but a subtle dread was carried within each sentence.
In the ill-lit world, they trudged upward. The geography of the land they lived within altering only in the degree of desolation. Traces of the once vibrant mountain could be seen all around them. Dead grass, uprooted and rotting bushes, fallen trees. Even the occasional bleached white bone, scoured and cracked from decades of weathering.
When there was no sun, when the rain that fell was drawn towards the summit and then, came rushing down in a torrent that fell, over and over again in a river that washed away all traces of life, no vegetation could grow. Even the hardiest of plants required some nutrition, water and a touch of chi.
But that never-ending grasping touch, it took it all and offered nothing back.
In this place, the pair climbed in silence. No words were exchanged.
At first, through mutual desire to leave the portal opening behind. Later, because the winds had grown too intense, such that words were robbed as soon as they escaped the warm and cozy confines of their mouths. Even spiritual speech - tendrils of chi exchanged between the pair to guide voice and noise- were not proof against the gluttonous fingers of this land.
With no sun, in perpetual gloom, the only illumination a small smattering of residual light, time lost meaning. Motion in the corner of the vision after countless hours indicated the entrance of additional individuals, the sudden flare of energy from their presence snuffed out as their auras were peeled away from their bodies.
Exclamations of unhappiness must have erupted at such an occurrence, but neither party could hear it. An attempt at flight was quickly aborted, the Core Formation cultivator never even managing more than a hundred feet before they plunged to the earth. Their abrupt descent and landing forced their ignominous retreat, the minor comedy of errors bringing a small smile to their faces.
Then, it was time to return to the trudge. Now, the pair had chasers, individuals hurrying upwards after them. Now, Wu Ying could count the time, not in minutes or hours or seconds but in the abandonment of purpose of their pursuers.
“Fools…” He whispered that word, watching the first to give up after only what must have been a few hours.
What was a scouring wind for him and Yeye Su must have been a galeforce to the pair. They were Nascent Soul cultivators, their purpose and will bolstered by immortal strength and power. The pair below, but Core Formation cultivators.
No place for them. No place for their arrogance or for pride.
All of it would be stripped away, leaving nothing but will.
Nothing but purpose.
Every step, a choice.
Chi turned within Wu Ying, over and over again. A cultivation technique that scored his own soul and body, tearing it apart, pressured again and again by the very environment. His body, his aura, his spirit compressed further and further by need and wind.
Blood flowed, freely. His robes stained, as portions that were out of alignment were shaved away.
Though this mystic realm might be harsh, Wu Ying was harder upon himself. No source of contention, of misalignment could be allowed to stay.
***
The army recruiter standing before the village, speaking to Elder Liu, the chief of their small settlement. Making his declaration of need, drawing upon the youth of the village to fight and die. He and the others men, to be taken away to fight a war that was not theirs. Plans for a future, a kindling romance and an incipient desire for another shattered long before it could begin.
HIs destiny, twisted by the demands of those above.
Feet rising and falling, rising and falling on a road that took him away from everything that he knew. To a destiny he had never dreamed of, so small had been his dreams.
***
Lying in bed, wounded and feverish, recovering from teetering on the edge of death for the very first time. All from a fight that he should never have taken, an argument that he should never have had, all because of an arrogant fool that thought himself better because of a position they had never earned.
An offer hovering in his mind, a decision to be made. To return home, to walk back the way he came as a succesful soldier, returned because of his wounds to a world that he knew well, to a family that loved him, a village that was safe and secure.
Or take another path, another chance.
***
Plum wine. A bandit. A wandering cultivator and training. A fight for his place in the sect, to become more than he could ever have envisioned even as he blindly searched for a new dream. A new goal.
Cut, peel, discard.
The disdain of an Elder, the strictures of rules that bound those who were poorer, less educated, more naive to a class below. Rules and traditions that held one back, enforced by fist and cane and lightning alike.
***
Lessons with Elder (? Wu?) as she led him to his occupation. Realising how his background, so disdained by others was a boon here, an advantage that the others could not take away. An expedition, hints about a broader pathway offered by spirit beast and a different pathway to strength that could have been taken.
Battles and wars, the suffering of peasants and members of the army. Forced to throw themselves against a wall that refused to yield, staring into the petrified faces of other youngsters. Memories rising up, faces that haunted his dreams if he had ever paid attention and slowed down. Lives taken, because he had an objective, because he had to fulfil the demands of another petty tyrant.
Wishes and dreams and cultivation secrets, hoarded in lands of the Wei. Seeing a country at war, seeing villages that were no different than his own. Enemy soldiers that for but a change of armour and clothing and a hundred li on a map, his countrymen. Nothing more than fodder for his blade, to be forgotten and discarded...
There, in the wind. Faces floating, grasping, given life through the exposure and discarding of blood and chi. They laughed and cackled and uttered open recriminations, their lives shortened, their journey restarted at the tip of his jian. What right did he have, to survive when they had perished?
Cold, penetrating his robes and flesh. Not the cold of the grave, but a degree further, of the theft of warmth and the memory of warmth itself as chi was drawn away.
Wu Ying tightened his defences and trudged on. Eventually, the ghosts too were robbed of their existence, the creatures never more than portions of his own imagination and soul anyway. No more real than the phantoms in one’s mind.
***
Another obligation, another time when he was forced to take on duties that did not benefit himself. At least not directly. His Master, injured and poisoned, in need of a pill whose ingredients were rare. This time around, it was a responsibility taken on willingly, one that he had felt no concern or anger over. Even now. Even after the pain and injury, the near death that he had experienced then or the loss of his greatest prize.
The World Spirit ring. It had broken something with him and Elder Wu, and looking back now, Wu Ying could see it through her gaze. His own insistence on holding on to it, when she could have better utilied it, grown it, had been selfish. The Sect could have profited ever so much more, the Elder could have grown the ring far better with the aid of the Sect than he could - had - done.
More. She had meant to save him from those who could have taken it from him, though deception and luck had seen him safe. At least till he had grown strong and wily enough to run away. That… that had been luck more than wisdom that had seen him through those dangerous years.
More…
She had never said she would keep it. Not forever. As a teacher now, he believed, chose to believe she would have returned it to him when he was older, stronger and more able to handle the dangers of ownership.
More than the ring though, the battle itself, the second time coming so close to death that he spent weeks recuperating. That final battle had set him on a different path, one that he had never expected to walk. Sent him to a new sect, the second that he had ever seen.
His time with the Double Body, Double Soul sect had set him on a path. A different sect, the first one he had ever truly visited and spent time with. One whose objective was not its own agrandisment but the improvement of cultivators all over the kingdom.
A sect that he fought - once more - the Dark Sect. This time, for the first time, he managed to strike a blow that they truly would feel. His first Core Formation cultivator that he had slain, even if only in an ancillary capacity in the battle and the final ending.
Not his last one, not by far.
Death weighed upon the soul too. His Master had been right on that factor, had meant to cut those strings away. Yet, now, looking back at these deaths, the battles he had fought, the haunting images of desperate times - his own and his opponents - Wu Ying knew that splitting them away was not his path.
He could not take away the burden of memory, not entirely. There were lessons learnt in the battle, in facing individuals willing to burn down libraries and cut down innocents that he needed to remember. Lessons that should have been burnt into the very soul of everyone, and yet had failed to take hold in some.
Wu Ying would not make that mistake.
Outside, the last Core Formation cultivator retreated, floating away on the blazing notes of a flute, pulled back out before enchantment and themselves could fall. Yeye Su let out a grunt, one so loud that even the mountain could not rob it of its volume entirely.
He strode onwards, head bent low, glaring at the wind cultivator that had stopped.
Fair enough.
They had a long walk ahead of them.
Comments
Catherine
Me too.
Sadly_streets_behind
Great chapter.
twentytoo
What a throw back. I sometimes wonder what happened to his child hood friend that went off to the war with him in book 1.
