Boots
patreon
5.41 - The Trials of Self
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 23:00:02 +0000 UTCLi Heng knelt at the point where dark and light met. To either side stood a version of himself. The one the inverse of the other. One black-robed, the other white. Hair, skin, clothes—mirrored and inverted. The two halves of his spirit glared at one another, weapons held ready, spirits cycling in this expanse of dark and light. The only other detail of this strange realm was inscribed upon the jade-tiled floor. The taiji, yin and yang, each half containing the seed of the other. Each half corresponding to one of Li Heng’s selves.
To one side, his dark self spoke of duty. The duty to his family, a nascent and vulnerable lineage. The Li were weak despite their station. Their situation was a precarious one. What had happened at Iron Gate City was proof enough of that. Had his father’s position been stronger, he’d have easily refused Wang Xiaobo’s demands. Li Heng and the others wouldn’t have needed to flee into the White Desert. Flee from his home. Had the Li family’s position been stronger, Wang Xiaobo never would have exerted his ducal authority over Li Bao—imperial appointment be damned.
At his other side, his light self spoke of expression. Of growth. Of his desire for a life other than what he’d been born into. The White Desert, the Jade Mountains—what were these lands if not a chance at adventure? He’d long since come to terms with the envy he’d once felt towards He Yu, and long since realized that a part of that came from He Yu’s freedom. Unshackled by duty or station, he could pursue whatever his heart desired. Why couldn’t Li Heng have that same opportunity?
He knew with all the certainty of a scholar that his Way was to bring these two extremes together. To pull them into balance, find the point where his two selves met, and stand between. Easier said than done. Easier to choose, accept the one and abandon the other. His mouth twisted of its own accord. How was it that he found himself here, once more, after all this time?
The way to Nascent Soul had been difficult. It had taken much of his father’s time and attention—too much, so far as Li Heng considered it. Shouldn’t he have put this behind him by now? Shouldn’t he have reconciled this?
Apparently not.
The two halves of his spirit weighed him down. Li Heng pitched forward. He caught himself with his hands, as if he kowtowed before his own cultivation base. Shouldn’t he be the one in control here? He ought to be the one to determine the course of their Way.
“Li Heng!”
It was He Yu. Here in this palace of illusion designed to dredge up all the most shameful memories and regrets Li Heng still clung to, of course it would create an illusion of his closest friend. A companion whose esteem Li Heng no longer deserved.
The familiar robes—gray silk the color of storm clouds and embroidered with coiling dragons—appeared before him. Li Heng looked up. He Yu stood above him, offering a hand. Li Heng reached up, and grasped the offered help. He Yu hauled him to his feet.
He Yu looked between Li Heng and his two halves for a moment. Then, after an almost too-long stretch of silence, he said, “I don’t think it’s a choice.”
“What else could it be?” Li Heng asked. “I’ve tried to reconcile them for so long.”
He Yu shrugged. “Beats me. But a lot of my own insights have come from accepting certain truths. I don’t think this is really the place to get into it, and I don’t think it’ll be all that helpful, anyway.” He pointed at the ground before he continued. “I think the point is acceptance. Your nature and your Way inform one another through the choices you make, right? You’ve been trying to choose for so long, but we’re still here. I think the taiji is the answer.”
It seemed almost too simple. But what if He Yu was right? What if he could just accept? The instant he thought that, the two halves of his vision swirled together. For an instant, he saw—just as he had in his breakthrough to Golden Core—the swirling image of the taiji.
Then he stood before the stone pavilion once more with the moon hanging overhead just where it had been when they’d entered. Sun Lei lounged on the roof, looking down at Li Heng from his perch.
“Good, good,” the Cloud Dragon Valley Sect patriarch said with a smile, stroking his cloud-white beard.
*
Chen Fei watched in helpless horror as all around her people died.
She’d somehow found herself back at the Shrouded Peaks Sect. The red sun hung low in the sky, and a horde of crazed beasts came without end. A Third Realm cultivator—barely twenty years old—wearing the robes of an outer disciple formed a technique. The beast before him lunged. Its jagged claws opened the Third Realm’s belly. His entrails spilled over the flagstones.
Close by, another outer disciple mustered a defense against another beast. Already she could tell it wouldn’t be enough. Qi surged through Chen Fei’s meridians. She called the formation characters to mind, placing them upon the world in accordance with her family’s art. The outer disciple died before she could complete the technique. By now, she’d lost count of how many times she’d failed. Failed to muster the Seventy-Two Blessed Symbols—failed to do the one thing her family art was meant for.
A scream came from nearby. Chen Fei turned as the scene before her twisted to one she’d tried for so long to forget. Two teenagers ran from attackers whose forms she knew all too well. The teenagers dressed as she often did, in felt and leathers worn in the fashion of the nomads that roamed the great expanse of the steppe. A boy and a girl. They ran, pursued by wolves with red fur and embers for eyes, trained to attack at the behest of their masters.
Chen Fei tried to form a barrier to aid their escape, but the wolves passed through it as though it wasn’t there. She tried to call out, but her voice failed her. She poured everything she had into every technique she could use. It didn’t matter. Helplessly, she watched as they died.
The scene before her shifted once again. She stood near the alchemy workshop once more. And once more she watched helplessly as Zhu Feng, the Third Realm alchemist she’d been told to protect, died. His head caved in by a heavy mace. This time, she hadn’t even tried—she’d seen this one play out enough times in her own mind.
She sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. So many people she’d failed. So many lives she’d left to fade. There was one thing her family art had been meant for, and she couldn’t even manage that. When she’d left the ruins of her village, first she headed east, then south. She’d gone to every school and sect she found, practically begging to be let in. They’d all turned her away.
Then she met the wandering expert who’d given her the badge that led her to the Shrouded Peaks. After gaining entrance to the sect, she’d come to suspect it was Ren Huang in disguise, but she’d never confirmed it. Or mustered the courage to even ask. Not that it mattered. Her time in the sect was marked by the same failure that had driven her from her home.
On the path up, she’d failed to protect herself from the mist spirits. It had taken He Yu—still at early Qi Gathering—to drive them off. She’d already been Foundation when that happened. It almost made her quit then and there. Then she’d been paired with the one disciple who had least needed her help. Tan Xiaoling had dominated the outer sect in their time there. Then there had been Sha Xiang and Qiao Xia, calling her a barbarian to her face, knowing full well she couldn’t defend herself from them.
And on and on. What good was learning the Seventy-Two Blessed Symbols if she couldn’t use it for the one thing it had been meant for? Even now, she’d become so strong. So much stronger than she’d ever dreamed, but here once again she was helpless as she watched others suffer and die. All while she somehow lived.
“It’s tough, isn’t it?” He Yu asked as he crouched next to her. He gave her shoulder a sympathetic bump.
She turned to him. “I’ve failed so many times,” she said. “I was supposed to protect them.”
“You did what you could,” he said. “What’s important is that you tried. That you keep trying. Think about all the times you came to my aid? Remember all the people you saved back at the sect. Sure, a lot of disciples died. But nobody should have made it out of there, by rights. Not with the days of attacks we suffered. Not with Jin Xifeng there. You only fail if you give up. And right now, the world needs people who will try, even against odds they can’t ever hope to beat.”
That was what she’d been doing all this time, wasn’t it? Trying against all odds. And somehow, she’d helped a few here and there. To protect those who, without her, would have died. What would have happened to them if she’d given up?
Chen Fei stood and found herself in the valley outside the sealed realm once again. Li Heng looked up from his cycling position and gave her a knowing nod. Sun Lei, from his perch atop the pavilion, gave her a knowing smile.
*
Yan Shirong floated in a sea of knowledge. Shadows cradled him in the middle of this vast, endless library. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched in every direction. There was no floor to this place, just as there was no ceiling. A truly infinite store of knowledge. A place truly fitting for the thousand eyes he carried with him. The thousand eyes hungering for ever more secrets.
For the first time since awakening his Wayborn Seed, Yan Shirong found a place that promised to quench his thirst. He held himself aloft with the Umbral Puppetmaster while he saw through the eyes of the constructs he controlled with the Puppeteer’s Legion. Knowledge from dozens of pairs of eyes flooded into him as his constructs poured over the scrolls, slips, and books lining these endless shelves.
So much knowledge, so many secrets. All here for the taking. All his. Characters floated around him, and he absorbed it all. The countless eyes in the umbral cloak of his presence aided him here, too. He’d have laughed if he weren’t so lost in the flood of new secrets. In here, nothing remained hidden. Not from him. Never mind the shadow in the back of his thoughts, a nagging reminder of something forgotten. Something he ought attend to. Whatever it was, it could wait. Once he was done here, he could turn his attention to those less important matters.
A thump echoed through the endless shelves of the library. Like someone knocking on a door. None of his constructs had found a door of any sort. He’d sent them as far as his control allowed, and found only more shelves with more scrolls and more books. Endless knowledge. What else could he want?
Another knock, this time more insistent.
“Go away! I’m busy!” he shouted into the expanse of the library and its vast array of endless shelves.
To his relief, the knocking stopped. Then, to his dismay, someone approached. He relaxed when he realized who it was.
“There you are,” He Yu said. He floated among the shelves, carried by that movement technique of his. Gentle winds tugged at his robes as he drew close.
“I told you I’m busy,” Yan Shirong said, turning most of his attention back to his constructs.
“I’ve noticed. But you need to leave.”
Now He Yu was truly starting to annoy him. “What do you mean, leave?” Yan Shirong demanded. “You’d have me abandon all this? What other chance would I have a such a collection?”
“Knowledge is useless if all you do is hoard it,” He Yu said.
“Nonsense,” he said. “It’s valuable for its own sake.”
Nodding his agreement, He Yu drifted closer. “It is, but it’s more valuable when it’s applied. Think about the work you did for the Ministry of Information.”
“A pathetic shadow of what I could achieve here.”
“Didn’t the things you learned during your time with the Ministry only have value because of their use?”
Yan Shirong paused. He frowned as he drew the fullness of his attention back to He Yu. He had a point.
“Besides,” He Yu added. “I’ve taken a bit of a look around. It may not seem like it, but you’ll run out, eventually. Sure, you’ll have a bunch of knowledge and secrets that nobody else does, but how would that be any different from simply leaving the books as they are now, locked up in this place, never to be read? And think of all the other secrets you’d miss out on.”
Yan Shirong stroked his chin, thinking. It was true, he’d hate to be trapped in here, lost in this sea of books, only to eventually run through them all. And He Yu had certainly led him to a fair share of secrets already. Then, he remembered, there was the actual library outside. He hadn’t even begun cataloging the Cloud Dragon Valley sect’s former manual pavilion.
The manual pavilion loomed above him in the moonlight. Sun Lei stood at the base of its steps. With a wave of his hand, he motioned Yan Shirong inside.
“Now,” the patriarch said, “let’s see how he deals with the stubborn one.”
