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6.3 - The Sixth Realm
🕑 Added 2025-03-25 22:00:02 +0000 UTCCradled by the wind itself, He Yu flew over the densely wooded peaks and valleys of the Jade Mountains. As he made his way back to the capital, he turned over this last errand in his thoughts. He knew what he did out here for the outlying settlements was exactly the sort of thing he needed to be doing. The sort of thing that resonated strongly with his Dao of Heroism. He did good. He saved lives. He built his legend.
All throughout the scattered villages and towns, whispers and rumors spread of an expert who brought the storm. An expert who would strike down those intent on doing harm, on preying upon those weaker than themselves. He’d saved countless settlements from attacks like the one today. From floods or avalanches. Or whatever else they needed. He gave out medicines freely, never asking for anything in return. Whenever he found a local with some degree of potential or strength—like the one he’d helped today—he encouraged them and gave them what they needed to make it to their next major bottleneck. So they could take up the mantle of their community’s champion.
None of it worked.
Sure, during his fight with Tan Qingsheng, he’d come closer to grasping the fullness of his Dao than he ever had before. After many late nights and long talks with Tan Zihao, they’d come up with this plan. He Yu had become the champion of the Jade Kingdom’s common people, appearing where he was most needed, and giving the sort of aid only an immortal could provide. In all fairness, it had worked. In a sense. He Yu’s understanding of his Dao had deepened over the years. His own search for answers about what it meant to be a hero in truth had, at long last, borne fruit. But as he came to an ever greater understanding of what it meant to be a hero, what it meant to him specifically, his Dao remained just beyond his grasp. He could see it. He could understand it. He could do everything he needed, except curl his fingers around it.
To say that he was frustrated would be a vast understatement.
So he kept fighting. He kept helping, defending, and appearing where he was needed most. Rumors spread, and his legend’s roots reached ever more deeply. By all accounts, he should be thrilled. And he was, to be honest. The only problem lay in the east. Yes, becoming the legend he’d always dreamed of, at least in part, was a foundation of his Way. But legends didn’t fell gods, not if they were stuck at the peak of Soul Refining. Jin Xifeng waited—for now. Eventually, she would tire. When she did, He Yu needed to be able to stand against her. Stand and prevail.
He wasn’t ready.
As the time went on, he pushed against this bottleneck to no avail, doubts crept in at the edge of his thoughts. A part of him knew that was absurd. He was, by all reasonable measures, an absolute monster. He Yu had only just entered his fifth decade of life. Without even a single sixty-year cycle behind him, he’d already reached the peak of the Sixth Realm. Half a step into the Seventh Realm, really. “Peerless talent” didn’t even begin to describe him anymore. He was a freak, in all the best possible ways.
Somehow, that still wasn’t enough.
He Yu flipped over onto his back, face turned to the sky as black storm clouds trailed after him and the treetops raced by below. Winds churned around him and in his wake, but left him undisturbed. Although he flew at speeds that would have once caused him to spit up blood in disbelief, he was surrounded by a pocket of calm. He gave himself over to idle thoughts, allowing the Peerless Judgment to guide him back to Jade Mountain Citadel.
He missed his time back at the sect. It wasn’t just the safety, the routine, or the sense of belonging it had provided—although, to be true, he missed all those things, too. He’d had guidance. Much of how far he’d come was a consequence of teachers and mentors far beyond what he’d been able to appreciate at the time. As much as he’d hated it, Ren Huang’s physical training had purged the weakness of his mortal youth. Elder Wen’s cultivation lectures had given him a foundational understanding of cultivation. That had allowed him to make sense of the myriad insights he’d gained over the years. Fang Yingjie had been so much more than a martial arts tutor. He’d given He Yu an understanding of the philosophy of his weapon and his arts. An understanding he still used to this day. Even Elder Cai, in his own way, had given He Yu the keys to the realm he now stood at the peak of.
Most of all, he missed Zhang Lifen. He’d resented her so much at first—the way she’d pushed him into conflicts he wasn’t prepared for. The way she’d more or less abandoned him as soon as he arrived at the sect. The way she’d dropped him into “training opportunities” with no regard for what he wanted. But with the benefit of age, wisdom, and hindsight, he saw the truth clearly now. She had known him better than he had, and she’d pushed him in exactly the ways he’d needed. Her insights had been critical at nearly every stage of advancement, and she’d given him many of the tools he’d used to get where he was now.
Sure, Tan Zihao brought a wealth of experience in the more nebulous and esoteric aspects of cultivating the higher realms. He’d helped He Yu clarify a good number of thorny questions over the years, and offered firm guidance whenever he could. But there was something about his Dao, the Dao of Strength, that almost acted as a blocker when it came to understanding others. Tan Zihao’s methods were, at their core, based on brute force. Clearly, the approach had worked for him. As it should have—it was so wholly aligned with his Way, it would have been absurd, had it not.
And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? As cultivators climbed ever higher in the realms of cultivation, they needed to ever more closely align themselves with their Way. But their individual Way was shaped by their nature, actions, and comprehension of their Dao. As they ascended, they became ever more themselves. For someone like Tan Zihao, whose Dao seemed fairly straightforward to He Yu, that felt fairly simple. Although he knew the truth—it wasn’t. “Strength” had as many interpretations as there were things under heaven. Just like “heroism” did.
Which brought him back to why he wanted the chance to speak with Zhang Lifen again. All those nights he’d spent discussing these sorts of things with her had always left him with—not clarity. Not exactly. But a way forward. Paths to follow, questions to ask. The means to find or create his own answers to questions that had once seemed unanswerable. That was the sort of guidance he needed now.
Except he didn’t even know if she still lived. He didn’t even know if anyone from the sect—other than himself and his friends—still lived. It seemed absurd to think they didn’t. Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu had made it out, if only by swearing themselves to Jin Xifeng. Surely, if anyone could have escaped that madness, Zhang Lifen could have.
The Peerless Judgment gently tugged at the edge of his attention. He Yu tilted his head to confirm—Jade Mountain Citadel had come into view. Nestled at the edge of the White Desert where it met the foothills of the Jade Mountains, it rose above the land, visible for a hundred li in all directions.
He Yu withdrew his presence as much as he could as he approached. Although he’d be a familiar sight, soaring over the foothills trailing a thunderstorm that never quite broke and drenched the land, it was only polite. There were children, and even a handful of lower realm adults who lived withing Jade Mountain Citadel’s walls. He was advanced enough now that his presence, fully released, would be dangerous to them. Even Golden Cores would have a hard time withstanding the full weight of his spirit.
The stormy sky behind He Yu cleared, and he released his movement technique. As the Sky Dragon’s Flight gave him over to the law of earth, he angled himself at a broad courtyard tucked behind the royal palace, out of view from the rest of the city. Several figures engaged in a sparring session there, and the telltale flash of familiar techniques was all he needed to know who they were.
With a pulse of wind qi, He Yu caught himself just before he slammed into the flagstones. He released his technique, then stepped lightly to the ground, giving a salute to Li Heng, then Yan Shirong. A short distance away, Tan Xiaoling and Chen Fei engaged in their own training.
Yan Shirong rolled his eyes at He Yu. “We were in the middle of a sparring session, you know.” Thankfully, the countless eyes peering out from the shadows billowing around him didn’t mimic his gesture. This time.
“Sorry,” He Yu muttered. “I was sort of lost in thought.”
“Everything alright?” Li Heng asked. He’d already send his ancestral jian back to his storage treasure and withdrawn his presence. The formation script bounding the training arena did its work, and the creeping frost that covered the flagstones around him had already begun to melt.
“Right as it can be,” he said. “Still can’t figure out what I’m missing, is all.”
Li Heng gave him a knowing nod. They’d spent countless hours going back and forth over their Dao. It gave He Yu a small bit of comfort to know that Li Heng was in similar straits as he was—his Dao of Balance that seemed simple on its surface, but the more he explored its truths, the less certain he became. If anything, it gave him someone to commiserate with. To be fair, they were all pushing up against a bottleneck of one sort of another. He Yu and Li Heng both struggled in their own ways to determine what their personal Dao “meant,” and how to fully connect with it.
Yan Shirong complained about how he’d long since run out of old, forgotten texts in the Tan library. It had been years since he’d completed his catalogue of the Cloud Dragon Valley Sect’s manual pavilion. According to him, the unspoken whispers of Jade Mountain City were wholly insufficient to satisfy his Dao of Balance.
Nobody within the city could truly stand against Tan Xiaoling in the way her Dao of Strife demanded. He Yu and Li Heng had both offered themselves as training partners—the access to Tan Zihao’s healers and alchemists meant any damage she could inflict was reversible—but she claimed that wouldn’t work. Her feelings for each of them, trusted friend on one hand and lover on the other, meant that she wouldn’t truly struggle against them. At least, not in the ways that she needed. She needed someone who wouldn’t just push her, but who would do so in a way that satisfied the metaphysical concept of strife.
Then there was Chen Fei. In one sense, she’d perhaps had the easiest time of them all. As far as He Yu could tell, her desire to protect others, and how it aligned with her Way, and solidified into the foundation of her Dao of Protection years ago. Perhaps before she’d even joined the sect. Everything she felt and did was aligned with her desire to protect people—especially those she cared for—and keep them from harm. But subtle demons lurked in her heart, and He Yu glimpsed them in those moments she cast her gaze far to the northeast. Past the White Desert, past the Mountains of Heaven, and past even the great steppe beyond. He’d left the door open for her, but she’d never yet walked through. He’d at least gained enough insight to know this wasn’t something he should push. She’d come to him when she was ready, if ever.
Having finished their sparring session, Tan Xiaoling and Chen Fei joined them as they sat and shared the tea Yan Shirong had set out for them. It was half an elixir, having been brewed from potent spiritual leaves, and a testament to Yan Shirong’s growing skills as an alchemist.
Giving He Yu an appraising look as they drank, Tan Xiaoling spoke. “You should speak to my father again.”
“I know it’s been some time, but I’ve been doing exactly what he said.”
“I know. But what about your art? Have you considered that?” she asked. “You told me Zhang Lifen once warned you that ancient arts like the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace demanded different things from their cultivators.”
He Yu stood, silently cursing himself for not thinking about that sooner. “You think he might know something about that?”
“My father’s a lot older than Zhang Lifen,” she said with that crooked half-smirk of hers.
He Yu only half heard her. He’d already made it to the palace itself, and it was all he could do to keep from activating the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering to push himself faster.
