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CC: Chapter 77
🕑 Added 2024-07-10 14:31:01 +0000 UTC'Full Disclosure'
Master Longhua sat in quiet meditation high above the colosseum pit, having covered the viewing window with a thin screen of moving shadow.
It was a break sorely needed by the Master and his Brother, both – though Yoma-Dur had opted for contemplation within his own chambers for now. The Master of the Waiting Tiger had concurred with his assessment that the constant perusal of showmanship seen in this tournament brought with it the drudgery of spectacle. This might have been fine for the three eyed Canjie out there (tradition alone dictated that he did not chase those indolent cretins away) but for Masters of the Internalized Ego, such displays were singularly less pleasing. These silly duels were born out of necessity, nothing more.
His physical body felt the hard engravings etched into the ancient stones of the Colosseum’s viewing box – the sloped pavilion first used during Qing’s time when this structure was raised from the depths of Mount Tai by the very first Cultivators of the Eternal Dragon.
He remembered with some nostalgic fondness the feeling of the crowd’s eyes on him as he first walked the sands of the arena himself, ready to battle to gain the prestige of the emperor. In those days, the Sect rivalries were even more pronounced than today, and he had fought tooth and claw against those he called Brother for the right to become the Master of the Dragon. Back then, he was little more than a young upstart, whose shining abs and flaming fists striking down his opponents spoke not of strength, but of his own ignorance. Even then, as a Core Regulator, he had no notion at all of what he was fighting to become.
He had reflected long after his victory in the first tourney of Aun’El how strange it was that the other Sects did not decide their leaders through the honed and honorable tradition of mortal combat. How the Bending Reed, Waning Moon, or Twin-Tailed Snake admitted their highest ranks, Longhua could only guess at, even today. The knowledge was not his to know. One had to be satisfied that one could only know so much as a mortal. The young often could not accept this simple truth. Some fought to deny it till their dying breaths.
Of course, this contest right now was not taking place with the aim of selecting a new Master. Instead, it was demonstrating one of the only things that truly linked the now divided Sects – when the need arose, and the name of the Sect’s Founding Prophet was invoked, a Planeswalker had to be chosen through combat. And a Planeswalker could not be of any rank higher than Corporeal Temperer. These two facts were paramount, even though Longhuaprivately smarted at what he saw as an easy way for unruly students to usurp the authority of their Masters through the simple invocation of a name. Most were simply not insane enough to try something so stupid, so maniacal. Had the Planeswalker never invoked Aun’El’s name…
The Master turned then to more pressing matters. As his balanced mind turned the mists of the Dao aside, he recognized once more the feeling of restriction there, in the world beyond all worlds. These recent disruptions in the Dao were troubling, and Longhua was forced to admit that his BrotherAmygdalis would have had more insight into the nature of this disturbance than he.
Amygdalis, the Master sighed, seeing the gaunt, pale form of the Master of the Waning Moon appear before him in the mists of his Dao-Walk. Always weaving plans within plans. It was you who put Ori’un up to this debacle in the first place, after all. Considering you were always the most secretive of us all, more slippery even than Bharadesh of the Reed, I should not be surprised.
The body of his Brother wavered, his moonlight dipped cloak appearing to wrap itself around his head as though to blind him. Or choke him.
I wonder, Longhua mused as he moved forward to touch the lucid vision. Brother, you always urged passivity in all things. You longed more than any to make the pact to honor Qing’s sacrifice. Why then, now…
Longhua’s physical body recoiled as he watched his Brother’s veiny arm reach out to him. At first, he suspected Amygdalis was trying to touch him. But as he looked through the increasingly darkening clouds of the Dao, he saw that the Master of the Waning Moon was extending one bony finger to point at the Master of the Dragon’s heart. As grim an omen as any…
When Longhua then returned to the waking world, he heard the distinctive sound of crunching beside him and glanced distastefully at the Planeswalker seated next to him.
“Must you chew so loudly?”
Ori’un licked his fingers and shrugged his bulky shoulders by way of apology. Levitating before him was an assortment of dishes meant for the arena fighters below: steamed buns, rice-porridge, Mantou and dumplings, all seasoned to the Planeswalker’s specifications.
“Grub’s up, Longhua,” he said through chewing. “Best be getting at it before the Tiger Master returns. If his appetite’s as fierce as those Disciples in his Sect, we’ll need the head start.”
Longhua sighed as he spirited a meat-bun away from Ori’un’s hand which the Planeswalker was just about to stuff into his already very full mouth.
“How wonderful it must be to be a Planeswalker,” the Master mused as he nipped at his meal. “The childish spirit of adventure just never slips from your soul, does it?”
“Were it so easy to cultivate such a spirit in everyone,” Ori’un replied through a liberal burp. “This world might be in a better state.”
Longhua cast a look at his once-Disciple that the Planeswalker did not acknowledge.
“But that’s just me,” he shrugged. “Don’t know about the other Planeswalkers. I suppose I’ll ask them at the next family gathering. Oh wait.”
Longhua breathed through his nostrils as he turned away and looked vacantly into the smoky haze he’s smeared across the viewing window. He could almost make out their faces, cloaked in shadow, moving across the black mirror’s surface.
“There are no others,” he said. It was the statement his companion had implied.
“There are no others,” Ori’un agreed, helping himself to another dumpling.
“Does that not tell you how wasteful your efforts are?” Longhua then asked the shadow-reflection of the man beside him.
“Does the Spermatozoa care how many of its Brethern die to accomplish the fertilization of an Ovum?” Ori’un replied with a boyish chuckle. “Nope. Only that one of its number brings new life.”
“As always,” Longhua sighed. “Your metaphors are crass and lack refinement.”
“True enough. I never could match your way with words. You had a riddle or allegory for every little teaching, it seemed. It was one of the things I loved most about this place.”
Both men let silence take hold for a time – a silence broken frequently by the incessant chewing of Ori’un and the quiet nibblings of the Master of the Dragon.
“XJ-V has been fighting well,” Ori’un finally noted. “Even without using the power that dwells within him. You’ve trained him well, Longhua.”
“These duels are not to the death,” the Master replied. “The Cog knows this. He knows to use the ‘gift’ of Yuwa would bring dishonor to himself as a Cultivator. I can only hope that he would not show the same hesitation when faced with an enemy that sought his metal heart.”
“Trust me,” Ori’un replied. “He wouldn’t.”
Silence again as both men savored the thought and avoided, as usual, what really had to be addressed between them.
Until, without warning, one of them finally cracked:
“Did you always hate me so?”
The question came as a surprise to the man who had just been asked it. Ori’un stopped his eating entirely but did not turn to face his former Master who was waiting patiently for an answer.
“Longhua,” he began, his tone far more serious this time. “You of all people should know that I would have taken up arms against you if I truly, deeply held hate in my heart for you. For a long time, I did think I despised you. When I first walked out those gates, I was nothing but a hot-headed boy who thought he knew better than his Master how this world works. But…you were correct in your assessment of me. I had no idea what I, what we, are up against.”
Longhua cast a grim look at the Planeswalker now – for it was the Planeswalker who was talking, not the boyish façade that was Ori’un.
“I saw things out there that the Dao had never deigned to show me,” he said, his hand clenching tightly round another steamed bun and wavering there. “I saw what hatred was – what it meant, what it looked like. Real hate. Real fury projected against this world and the people who populate it. I saw just how debased and broken the human body could become. I saw how easy it was to break the spirit of a mortal mind. And I understood what you’d meant when you said the Old Gods never truly cared for us. We were pawns to them, nothing more.”
He leaned back and cracked his neck slightly to one side, looking back at his own shadow reflection as it gazed on, uncaring.
“I think I hated what you were, Longhua. What you still are. Had I been born and lived a full life in the Wasteland, I doubt I would have ever become a Cultivator in the first place. Exposure to hatred brings with it the curse of knowledge just as exposure to the Dao does. In a way,I’ve been cultivating all this time with a teacher far harsher than you ever were.”
He’d expected the Master to sigh in disappointment and displeasure – a sound almost synonymous with the man in Ori’un’s eyes. In truth, he envied the Cog for the admiration the Master so clearly held in his heart for him. But to his surprise, Longhuaactually laughed.
“Better,” he said. “Perhaps you should stick to the literal, and leave metaphorical matters to old men like me.”
The shadow veil of the window was then wiped away by Longhua’s command, and the Disciples below cheered with glee to see their onlookers return for the next match.
“The Dao works through us all,” Longhua said as he waved to the gathering crowd. “It has brought you back here to fulfil the last steps on your Path, even if you do not believe it guides you.”
Ori’un attempted to conceal the surprise on his face, but even he could not believe the change he’d noticed in his old Master during the time he’d spent back in Ramor-Tai. It had made the entire trek back worth it, in a way, even without the prize he needed.
“Depressing, is it not?” the Planeswalker chuckled as he pumped his fists in the air for the crowd, ready to jump back into his announcer-persona. “The notion that our agency is so restricted like this. Maybe that’s just something integral to our species. To hold so much power at your fingertips, and yet know that, in the end, it still won’t matter. After all, it’s the two of us who know how this will all turn out, isn’t it, Longhua?”
The Master of the Eternal Dragon regarded his former pupil with a reticent, humorless smile, as his thoughts returned with sudden intensity to the vision of blindAmygdalis and his pointing finger.
“For once, Ori’un,” he said. “We agree.”
