The Fourth Wall - Chapter 27 preview

Author Note: Preview chapters are rough/first drafts. These chapters have not been edited, expect that there may be errors - however, feel free to point out consistency issues!

Liu Tou He dreamed, a dream of serene peace and warmth. He dreamed of being back in the monastery, huddled together with his brothers, flesh pressed to flesh as children for additional warmth as the small fire they were allowed blazed nearby. Winter snow fell outside, muffling the world outside and the only illumination in that dark room the blazing fire. He dreamed of comfort and companionship and warmth, even as in reality, the monastery of his mind was assaulted.

He could sense it, in the distance. The assaults on his mind, the way they attempted to slide into the monastery. However, the monks, the imaginary defenders of his mind monastery were dealing with the assaults with aplomb. Thus far, they had managed to get through the gate guardians and now were dealing with the lay monks, the general populace of the monastery. They were quite numerous, though nowhere near as strong as the inner guardians - the thirty six bronze monks. Finally,  the Abbott awaited them if they managed to break through all that before the children and himself would be forced to meet them.

Knowing all that, Tou He cuddled deeper, enjoying the warmth, the silence. As he lay there, he felt the fire, the warmth and pulse of lives all around him. A city splayed around the monastery, bursts of light and warmth as lives existed. From this perspective, they were no different than any humans; a burning bonfire of hopes and dreams and love. 

He could feel them moving away from him, a slowly widening circle as the flames from his blood line and dao engaged. Even though the demons were attempting to protect the others, they were extremely weak. As though grasping hold of these elemental constructs was difficult for them to control.

As though, rather than interacting with the flames directly, they attempted to move the world around it. Picking up the earth and the branches that the flame carried.

Strange, but that was what it was.

It worried him a little. That his defenses were failing - even if slowly - was understood. A known factor as part of their own plans. On the other hand, they had not planned to create such confusion and disarray in the city itself. Chaos that drove others aside, pushing them from their homes and businesses, disrupting an entire city. Lives forced to be abandoned and perhaps, if enough time, even a city.

Yet, it concerned him that he was doing so much damage, even inadvertently. 

True, he had been attacked. He could feel the anger, the hate and disgust radiating from his attackers. Yet, there was also a strong protective instinctive radiating from them all, a sense of ownership over the city. More to his concerns, the thousands, tens of thousands of other flames, none of them held that same level of animosity. Not to him, not to each other.

Some, of course. They were, after all, mortal.

Yet compared to the sheer number of such feelings, the darker passions of humanity; these demons were more peaceful. Calmer, more stable, more mature in the way they interacted with one another. Passions flared, but they died down soon enough, calmed away. Perhaps a side effect of their mental strength, the mind-to-mind communication that they exhibited. Only the strongest could speak to one another directly, but each group could sense and feel the others.

Empaths at the very least.

What would humanity be like, if everyone could sense the emotions of the others? Feel the roiling hurt, the anger and pain and loneliness of one another? Or, in some cases, the emptiness? Would compassion bloom, or would resentment grow; as humanity ignored the all too clear calls for help all around.

They already did, on the daily basis. Beggars on the street, never given even a nod or a coin, left to fend for themselves in the belief that it was not their business, not their concern. Corrupt bureaucrats who preyed upon the populace, tyranical guards who lauded their authority on others and bullied any who caught their eyes.

Humanity lied to itself, calling themselves caring and just and good, day in and day out. The burdens of existence pressed down upon heads, forcing gazes low rather than to meet others. Perhaps this gift, offered to humanity, would only make it all too clear how unfair and unjust existence was. That, no matter how hard one tried, existence itself was pain.

Perhaps then that it was a kindness of the Dao that humanity had no such gift. They moved on, in ignorance. And only a few, those monks and heroes who dared look who saw the full scope of tragedy.

If so, the tragedy of his presence here, disrupting the lives of the innocent was all the greater.

It would be best for them if they left, if Yang Mu suceeded in her own endeavors.

It would be particularly important that she not find that cold place, that chilly emptiness of the grave to the north.

For while he might see a race that was, in many ways, better than humanity; he was not certain his ally would if she found it. For all that he burned hot, the rage of a woman was not be trifled with.

***

Wu Ying smiled at the young lady who arrived. Weeks had passed, and whle he intended to spend as much time as possible studying, there were limits. After all, even utilizing his ability to not sweat and control the surroundings, basic hygeiene dictated a bath every few days.

It also allowed his attendants to rest, which was rather important. He knew he was running them ragged, the number of individuals that rotated through his room ever increasing. All but Translator Tsewang who he noted was seated there again, hands crossed before his lap when Wu Ying arrived. Middle aged, perhap as old if not older than Wu Ying himself.

“Translator Tsewang. How is that you’re always here before me?” Eyes crinkling a little, he continued. “Are you having me watched?”

“Me? No, of course not.” Yet, he did not deny that Wu Ying was being watched. There was no reason to do so after all, the watchers had been located not long ago. “Are we continuing with the works of Monk Shan? Or did you wish to return to the manuals?”

“How many languages do you speak?” Wu Ying said, curiously as he took his seat. “I have counted at least four major languages and a few dialects.”

“To acquire the title of a senior translator, we must showcase fluency in five languages and a similar number of dialects within each.” Translator Tsewang said.

“And you are a senior translator.”

He inclined his head and Wu Ying shook his head a little. “Amazing. I’m honored to have the exclusive services of one so talented.”

“Truth be told…” he began and then trailed off.

“Go on.”

Tsewang glanced at the door, noted that it was closed and the early hour of the morning, such that there were few present within the building. After a moment, he continued, his voice low as he spoke. “Your requirements are the most interesting project to arrive in the last decade. I must admit, I volunteered for the role.”

“I’m glad my ailment was of interest.” Wu Ying hesitated now. After a moment, he chose to continue speaking, for the man had confided in him. He could only offer the same level of trust himself. “The library, it is rather, hmm… empty.”

“Ah.” 

It was not, of course, strictly true. There were always individuals within the building, caretakers, attendants, librarians and guards. However, compared to the size and supposed fame of the institution itself, it should have been filled. Certainly, considering the sheer resources available – especially at the higher level – Wu Ying would have expected more individuals of influence and strength.

Instead, he was the only – broken – Nascent Soul cultivator in the building that was not already aligned to the library. There were three other Core Formation cultivators who had visited the library in the time that Wu Ying had been here. The first had arrived from a nearby town and stayed only for two nights. Another, after a week, had found what he sought and left, depositing payment via a storage ring. The third continued his studies much like Wu Ying, in a room on the opposite side of the library. A cultivation gone astray, an immortal spirit too strong for the core created, leaving it cracked and growing wider at each moment.

“We are facing a downturn in our patrons…” 

“So it was not always like this?”

“It was not. I could recall a time when I was a child when the library was bustling, when the mystic realm was newly formed.” Lips tightened in unhappy recollection, Tsaweng continued. “But the decline began soon after I graduated here. Misfortunate attempts at the realm, with some cultivators failing to clear it. We raised the requirements, of course, to keep it safe. But we still gained the reputation, the fear of those who would be asked to come. Evn when we refused to send those who had no chance, still the fear grew.

“More and more people avoided us. And then, of course,  the decline began.”

“The decline?” Wu Ying said, looking to the door where a bustling, well kept library continued to be mantained. 

“Not that kind. What is a library without patrons? But a large closet filled with books. What are translators with no one to translate for, but bored servants.” Tsaweng shook his head. “Once, we were the center of the four kingdoms. Cultivators and mystics from all the realms came to us, seeking our wisdom, seeking to learn from us. Now, we wile away our time, playing word games with one another.”

“A tragedy.” 

“I like to think that.” Tsaweng said, a small smile crossing his lips. “It makes it more dramatic and interesting than the truth, that we live in the last few years of an institution that had once been so great.”

“Yet your reserves are sufficient, to keep things the same.”

“Yes, Overseer Norbu is has managed to locate alternative sources of income.” An eyebrow rose, and Tsaweng shook his head. “Matters of administration are not something I seek details on. If you are interested in such matters, it is the Overseer who you must speak with.” 

“Of course, of course.” Wu Ying said. “Well, it’s best for us to return to what we’re here for.” He stared at the manual for a moment, then shook his head. “Let us start with something easier. The works of the monk to begin.”

He listened to Tsaweng begin, nodding along with each word then slowly split his attention He let the winds dance, listening to them as they reported in. The riches of the library, the riches of Wen Dun that had been attached to it, the strange spirit lamps that glowed green and white and the various enchantments that dotted the town, even the runes and urns utilized. The urn that he had found, when the pair had left. 

Again and again, small incongruities. He wondered if the translator was truly that ignorant and oblivious to the regular trade between the mystic realm and the city, if he was willfully ignorant or just refused to air such matters to Wu Ying.

Or, perhaps, it was more than that. 

It took more than just concern about loss of life and being asked to enter or manage a mystic realm to scare away most cultivators. They were not the kind to be scared away from such troubles, especially when the matter concerned their ascension to immortality. There was more to this story, than what was being told. 

In truth, he assumed it was a rather tawdry one. One that involved the death and disposal of some cultivators. It was only sufficient numbers of loss that would make so many avoid such a place. Loss without clue of why, death without honor or glory. Disappearances that were unaccounted for could put a chill through even the bravest.

There were secrets, all around. But for now, Wu Ying could only wait. 

Wait for his friends to finish their tasks and return and plan for the expected retribution when they succeeded.