K.J.Clay
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Chapter 26 - The Edge of Control
🕑 Added 2024-08-26 00:00:02 +0000 UTCHis hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The pain itself had faded quickly enough – just as his master had promised there were no lingering side effects. The memory, though, that was still vivid.
He kept randomly tensing, his body bracing for pain that never arrived. And the damnable shaking that just wouldn’t stop.
Lao Yi seemed… subdued was the only word Zhujiao could think of. He had the terrible feeling that the process hadn’t worked as well as expected, but he had yet to ask.
“Here, Apprentice,” his master said softly, passing him a cup of steaming tea, “this should help take the edge off.”
He usually didn’t much enjoy drinking tea, but he’d seen his master grinding up a few herbs that reduced pain, so he was more than willing to make an exception.
The drink helped soothe his shaking hands, though how much of that was just a psychosomatic effect and how much was due to the efficacy of the herbs was a matter of debate. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.
Lao Yi gave him a few more minutes to gather his thoughts and settle himself before speaking. “You seem to be recovering quickly. Good – that means the worst is behind you.”
Zhujiao glanced up at him before letting his eyes fall back to where his hands were cupped around the tea. “Is this the part where you tell me the bad news?” he asked hoarsely.
Lao Yi appeared taken aback. “Not at all, my boy. The process worked how I expected it to. It was more difficult than anticipated,” he admitted, frowning slightly. “I suppose I’ve found out why the process has not been explored before. Or, at least, widely adopted.”
Zhujiao allowed a flicker of hope to bloom in his chest. “So it worked?” he clarified, trying to keep his expectations low. “Is—were there any side effects?”
“Not at all, my boy,” Lao Yi assured him, smiling faintly. “I have developed a cycling technique that I believe will be well suited for you already – and I assure you, it’s far better than anything you could have come up with yourself.”
The lighthearted jab did more to settle Zhujiao than anything else. It might not have been the end of the world if things hadn’t worked out, but the thought of the potential setback had been bothering him more than he thought.
He paused. Actually, it had been bothering him more than it should. Certainly, he didn’t relish the idea of spending the next few years learning about meridians and developing a cycling technique for himself, but…
Well, it’s not like he urgently needed the power for anything. It could have even been quite interesting learning more about the science – such as it was – behind cultivation. When had he gotten so impatient?
It didn’t take him long to figure out. Lao Yi had just spent most of yesterday explaining the consequences of his actions with the beast core, after all.
He swallowed. “Master, I… I believe that I may still be experiencing side effects from cultivating the physical path,” he said slowly. Had he stuffed something up with the purging process? He could have sworn he did everything right. If this meant that he had to waste even more time before he could start cultivating again, he—
Zhujiao cut the thought off harshly. That sort of thinking was precisely the problem and only highlighted the fact that something was still wrong with him. He looked up at his master with wide eyes, hoping he would have a solution.
Lao Yi looked back sadly. “That is not unexpected, Apprentice,” he said softly, gently. “Purging your dantian and avoiding such cultivation will stop the problem from getting any worse, but I’m afraid the damage has already started to affect you.”
Zhujiao’s heart sank at his master’s words, even as he tried to maintain a calm exterior. The idea that his past mistakes might continue to haunt him was a bitter pill to swallow, especially now when he had hoped to finally put them behind him.
He forced himself to focus, clinging to Lao Yi’s gentle tone as a lifeline. “So… there’s no way to fix it?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Lao Yi shook his head slowly. “No, Apprentice. I’m afraid the damage is done. The physical path is dangerous for many reasons, and you’ve experienced one of the worst. It’s not something that can be undone entirely.”
Zhujiao bit his lip, trying to process the implications. The urge for power, the temptation to advance recklessly—those were things he could manage, right? But the thought of always having to fight against himself, to constantly be on guard, was daunting. “So… what do I do?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
“You learn to recognise it,” his master said softly, leaning forward to catch Zhujiao’s gaze. “You’ll need to be vigilant. Recklessness and ambition can lead to great things, but they can also lead to ruin. It’s a double-edged sword, and you must learn to wield it carefully.”
Zhujiao nodded slowly, though the weight of his master’s words pressed heavily on him. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth the risk. “What if… what if I just didn’t cultivate?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. Something deep inside him rejected the thought violently, but he forced himself to consider it nonetheless. “If there’s a chance that I could hurt myself or others, wouldn’t it be better to just… avoid it altogether?”
Lao Yi studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Avoiding cultivation might seem like the safer option, but it would be a mistake,” he finally said, his tone firm. “The urges you’re feeling won’t simply go away. They’ll fester, grow stronger in your mind the more you try to suppress them. Cultivation is not the problem, Zhujiao. Recklessness is.”
Zhujiao looked down at his hands, now steady but still warm from the tea. He could feel the residual energy within him, faint and fragile. The idea of giving it up, of abandoning the path altogether, was tempting in its simplicity. But he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t realistic. The desire to grow, to improve—it was a part of him now, as much as the air he breathed. “So, what, I just… have to be careful?” he murmured.
“That is the least of it,” Lao Yi said, nodding. “Cultivation is a powerful tool, and like any tool, it must be used wisely. The path you’re on is dangerous, yes, but it’s also the one you’ve chosen. You must learn to temper your ambition with caution. Advancement is not inherently wrong, but how you pursue it matters. You will need to be more mindful than others, but that doesn’t mean you should stop. In fact, if you ever wish to return to normalcy, it is your only choice.”
Zhujiao looked up sharply. Lao Yi had insinuated that the effects were permanent – was there more to it? His master read his expression and hurried to explain.
“Yes, Apprentice, it is possible to eventually mitigate the effects. I mentioned that there are cultivators who pursue the physical path – do you really think they would do so if the only result is to become a raving lunatic? No. All paths eventually lead to the same peak.”
Lao Yi paused, lost in thought for a second before continuing. “I have told you that there are two methods of cultivation, correct? The physical and the mental?”
Zhujiao nodded, furrowing his brow. It was hard to tell where this was going – his master seemed a little more scatterbrained than usual.
“Well, that’s… perhaps an oversimplification. The exact details are unimportant – not relevant to you specifically, and would take too long to explain – but the truth is that a physical cultivator must also cultivate their mentality, and a mental cultivator must also cultivate their physicality.” Lao Yi frowned, searching for the right way to explain the concepts.
Lao Yi’s frown deepened as he continued, his eyes distant, as though he was searching for the right words to explain something complex. “Imagine two mountains,” he said slowly. “One represents physical cultivation, the other mental. The path to the peak of each mountain is steep, arduous, and full of pitfalls. Most cultivators choose one mountain to climb, but the truth is that both must be ascended in the end.”
Zhujiao listened intently, though he wasn’t entirely sure where his master was going with this.
“When a physical cultivator focuses only on their body, they neglect their mind. Their power grows rapidly, but without the mental strength to control it, they risk becoming unbalanced, reckless. That’s why those who pursue the physical path often struggle with madness or destructive urges. Their mental cultivation lags behind, and it creates an instability.”
Lao Yi paused, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. “On the other hand, mental cultivators develop their minds first, as well as their will and focus. They have greater control, which makes their path safer. But they pay a price. Their physical power lags behind, making them physically weaker, more vulnerable in direct confrontation.”
“So,” Zhujiao said slowly, piecing it together, “eventually, both types of cultivators have to balance the other side?”
“Exactly,” Lao Yi affirmed, nodding. “If a physical cultivator survives long enough to develop their mind to match their body, they can achieve great balance and strength. The madness fades as their mind catches up. The mental cultivator, though weaker physically, becomes stronger over time as they begin to cultivate their body. Both paths eventually lead to the same peak, but they take different routes to get there.”
Zhujiao’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the information. “So, if I focus on my mental cultivation, I can eventually reverse the damage from the physical path?”
Lao Yi nodded. “Yes, but not entirely. Those who usually choose the path of physical cultivation do so carefully and are prepared for the dangers. You charged ahead without knowing the first thing about what you were doing, so I would wager you will always suffer some effects.” His master’s tone softened slightly. “You’ll have to work hard to strengthen your mind, to control those urges and avoid reckless decisions. And you can’t do it by staying stagnant. You’ll need to challenge yourself, push your limits—not just physically, but mentally as well.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then the imbalance will grow,” Lao Yi said simply. “You might avoid the physical challenges, but your mind will become your worst enemy. The urges for power and the temptation to advance recklessly will only intensify. If you don’t find a way to temper them, they could consume you.”
Zhujiao sighed, feeling the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders. “How long would it take to become dangerous? I haven’t done any cultivating for months, and I feel fine.”
“You may feel fine, but that doesn’t mean that you are fine,” Lao Yi pointed out sharply. “As you say, it’s only been a few months, and you’ve already volunteered for an untested technique that you knew would cause immense pain for an advantage that you don’t even truly understand. If that isn’t reckless, I don’t know what is.”
That… cut closer than he would like to admit. Oh, sure, he could pretend it was a well-reasoned decision, that he had weighed the pros and cons, but the reality was that he had leapt at the first opportunity he saw.
“So, what do I do?” he asked.
Lao Yi leaned back slightly, studying him. “What do you plan to do, Zhujiao? Once you’ve mastered the cycling technique, how do you intend to pursue power in a safe manner?”
Zhujiao hesitated, thinking carefully before responding. “I… I think I’ll stay in the city for a while, until I have the technique under control. Once I feel more confident, I want to go back to my town and reconnect with my aunt. Maybe even travel afterwards, see what the world has to offer.”
He had deliberately been avoiding thinking about Auntie Hua and Meilan for a while now. Worrying about them wouldn’t change anything, and he was hardly in a position to leave the city and travel back to his hometown at the moment, so why waste the emotional bandwidth when he had other problems?
He tried hard to ignore the insidious thought that reconnecting with them would slow down his advancement.
He failed.
Lao Yi’s gaze sharpened, and he shook his head. “That won’t be enough,” he said firmly. “Staying in the city might give you time, but it won’t push you to grow. And reconnecting with your aunt… that’s a noble goal, but it’s not a challenge. If you don’t push yourself, your deteriorating mental state will push you instead.”
Zhujiao frowned, feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. “But… what do you mean? How do I push myself then?”
“You need to seek out challenges that will force you to grow, both physically and mentally,” Lao Yi explained. “Whether it’s through cultivating in harsh environments, facing opponents who test your limits, or exploring places where your mind and body will be put to the test, you must actively seek these challenges. The more you temper yourself, the more you’ll strengthen the balance between your mind and body.”
Zhujiao swallowed hard. He had wanted to do more with this second chance at life, sure, but it sounded like his master was saying he needed to, what, become an adrenaline junkie? Throw himself into battles, fight for his life constantly just to keep himself from going insane?
“I… I don’t know if I’m cut out for that, master,” he admitted.
Lao Yi’s expression didn’t change, but something about him seemed… sad. It lasted only a moment, and Zhujiao couldn’t even swear that he hadn’t imagined it.
“Do not worry, my Apprentice,” his master reassured him, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something that Zhujiao couldn’t quite place. “It is the duty of the teacher to provide for the student. I will handle this matter. For now, focus on your training. We’ll take this one step at a time.”
Zhujiao wanted to press for more, to ask what exactly his master meant by “handling the matter,” but something held him back. Perhaps it was the subtle shift in Lao Yi’s demeanour, the way his tone had softened just slightly, or the fleeting sadness that Zhujiao thought he had seen in his eyes. Whatever it was, it made him hesitate.
Instead, Zhujiao nodded, accepting the vague reassurance for now. “Yes, Master. I’ll do my best.”
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