6.15 - Monarch of Sky's Throne

The storm eagle reared up. Its massive head reached to the heavens, and its wings embraced the world. “Proclaim to me your nature, Regent of the Heavenly Palace, so that we may know one another in truth.” Its voice pierced the sky, and a sticky, wet trickle oozed out from He Yu’s ears. A taste of what was to come.

The Monarch of Sky’s Throne beat its immense wings, and the storm responded. Already, it had been a violent tempest of wind and rain, shot through with the scintillating brilliance of heaven’s power. Each beat of the Monarch’s wings redoubled the storm. The winds rose, and the rain drove even harder. Lightning and thunder split the sky and scarred the earth. The Monarch’s spirit unleashed—even only this smallest part—crashed over the whole of the world. The storm eagle’s piercing cry issued a challenge, one that was accompanied by the fury of a storm greater than any He Yu had ever known.

Still, he answered the Monarch’s challenge. His spirit cascaded outward, only to be ripped away by the great eagle’s storm. Standing tall, He Yu poured all of his cultivation base into his meridians and his presence. He focused on his Wayborn Seed, and upon his ever-strengthening connection to the Dao of Heroism. That bolstered him, but he needed more.

So he cycled his techniques, adding their weight into the strength of his presence. The Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment came first, the clarity and insight bolstering him against the storm that so overwhelmed his own. From this technique that served both his cultivation and perception, a profound calm settled over his thoughts. An insight he would need to guide him through what came next, that without, he would be already lost. The changes Elder Cai had wrought upon his manual’s description stood in stark defiance of the storm’s power, allowing He Yu to remain a center of calm amidst the tempest all around.

Next he added the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. Another art, hand chosen for him by Yongnian. Chosen by the storm spirit who, for countless centuries, had served as the lone steward of a forgotten shrine. A shrine to the Lord of Thunder, Leigong. The six pillars of the technique rose around him. Crackles of heavenly qi crawled over their surface and He Yu’s skin took on that now-familiar dull sheen. Strength and resilience flowed into him, and he stood firm against the Monarch’s storm.

He Yu called the Five Crescent Winds. Yes, this was an art for the guandao. But it was also an art of support. As he’d advanced, this art had infused his other techniques, lending them reach and power beyond even that of his treasured weapon. Now those same winds cradled him. As his cultivation art calmed his mind, the winds eddied around him, creating a pocked of still air at the nexus of this eternal raging storm. Enough that the hem and sleeves of He Yu’s robes ceased their flapping, falling still in this tiny pocket of serenity.

Summoning the power of the Sky Dragon’s Flight, He Yu lifted himself into the air. He drew even with the Monach’s magnificent and massive head, so that he could look the great spirit beast in the eye. As a worthy contender, if not an equal. When he’d drawn even with the great eagle’s gaze, He Yu called forth the heavens.

Lightning of his own creation, summoned by a formation of Heaven’s Descending Blade mightier than any he’d formed before. Arcs of lightning reached down from the churning black clouds to touch the six pillars, each in turn. The brilliance of heaven leaped between the pillars, so dense and so complete it almost formed a curtain. Power surged along He Yu’s meridians as heavenly qi coursed through him like never before. Yet still, he wasn’t done.

The Monarch of Sky’s Throne called its own storm. Its own forks of lightning. He Yu summoned the Spring Rain Mirror. Every flash of the Monarch’s power was met by a single blue disc. Yes, the Monarch shattered them all—how could it not? A being of such power wouldn’t allow itself to be bested so easily. But He Yu met it just the same. The sparking and cracking of water and heaven qi filled the air, as He Yu formed the Spring Rain Mirror a thousand times each instant. And each instant, the technique shattered a thousand times. It mattered not. The display was enough.

Finally, He Yu called forth his guandao. The very same weapon forged of star metal by his father’s hand. Strengthened and enforced by Chen Fei’s skill. The weapon that had come to define him in its own way. Now he did not brandish it, for this wasn’t a battle. At least not one that he could fight with mere weapons. Instead, He Yu held the guandao at his side in a loose, relaxed grip. Just so that it was there, its weight a comfort in his hand. To bolster him against this, this greatest test.

With a flex of his spirit, He Yu asserted his presence. For all the strength he’d gathered so far, he caused barely a disturbance in the Monarch’s mighty gale. Still, He Yu’s own storm created a pocket around him. One insignificant on the scale of the eternal storm the Monarch of Sky’s Throne created, but a storm of his own, nonetheless. If it was all He Yu could manage, to contest this insignificant patch of sky, then that was all he would contest.

The Monarch of Sky’s Throne threw back its head. Its razor beak parted, and a scream pierced the heavens and He Yu’s spirit both. More blood trickled from his ears. He Yu coughed, spitting up a handful of wet, sticky red gobs. “Show my your Way, Regent of the Heavenly Palace. Prove to me you deserve your place among the heavens.”

Each word stabbed through He Yu’s body and spirit alike. He coughed up more blood. For a moment he even had to shut his eyes, as the flashing lightning sent needles stabbing into vision. The scream, the storm, each and both strained his meridians and dantian with the sheer power they forced him to endure.

Yet still he stood. Through the agony, through the crushing weight of the Monarch’s presence, He Yu lifted his chin, and met the great spirit beast’s golden flashing eyes. He reached into his own spirit, his own cultivation, and grasped the essence of his Way that had taken root in the center of his existence. He called forth his Wayborn Seed, and rooted his focus to that infinitesimal fragment of the Eternal Dao as he cycled his cultivation base.

“Proclaim to me your nature!” the Monarch of Sky’s Throne screamed.

The eagle’s cry sent another round of spasming agony through He Yu. His meridians felt on the edge of fracturing. No longer could he even bring up his free hand to cover his mouth as each haggard hacking breath spit out yet more blood. Doing the only thing he still had left, He Yu reached for his Dao.

As many times as he’d glimpsed his Dao of Heroism before, he’d never fully connected with it. At least not in any way he could name. That had been his bottleneck, or so everything he knew about the higher realms of cultivation had told him. Even the strange snap he’d felt just now when he’d answered the Monarch’s question hadn’t fully united him with the concept of Heroism itself.

Yet still he reached. Because somebody had to. Somebody had to stand against all the bad, all the suffering, all the injustice and corruption and everything else. Somebody had to be the one to stand up. He couldn’t see any reason it couldn’t be him. Why it couldn’t be anyone, really. All it took was one single moment. One choice, one action. To do what he knew had to be done. To do what he knew was right.

To try when victory was an impossibility.

Aid a friend when hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched.

Hunt down a bandit who’d taken everything and left the unburied dead.

Guide mortals through the wilderness, when they’d only be a burden.

Stand against arrogant nobles, so certain of their own strength, but ignorant of their cowardice.

Place himself between his friends and a mighty old tiger, just in the hopes they could escape.

He Yu had done this, and so much more. Through the pain, through the pressure, he drew himself up. He asserted his spirit, his way, and proclaimed his nature. Not in words. But in deeds. Like he’d done so many times before, and would do so many times again. Until he finally broke, or until there was nobody left to save. That, he screamed with a voice of spirit and into the storm, was his Way. His Dao.

This was who he was. The man he’d both made himself into, and the man he’d always been. A hero born, a hero made. Forged in countless trials and adversity. Built with every choice, every action. Piece by piece, He Yu had made himself into the man he’d always been.

The world would recognize him. Heaven would recognize him.

To cultivate was to defy the heavens. To impose one’s spirit upon the world.

He Yu understood that truth—the extent of its profound nature—in a way he’d never grasped before. The connection he’d felt snap into place just moments ago thickened. Grew. His Wayborn Seed clung ever more tightly to the Dao fragment he’d yolked himself to over thousands upon thousands of decisions and little single actions.

Once more, the Monarch of Sky’s Throne beat its great wings. Wind buffeted He Yu in great gusts. In the center of his spirit, he focused on his Wayborn Seed, on the Dao of Heroism. Outwardly, he called the winds of his own creation. With the Sky Dragon’s flight anchoring him to the very air itself, He Yu formed the Bracing Wind. Around him, he created a shell. The Monarch’s fury crashed into him, flowed around him. He stood firm atop the winds and the clouds.

The Monarch screamed. Lightning arced along the immense length of its feathers, from wingtip to wingtip that spanned the very sky. And from those arcs came the judgment of heaven. Bolts of lightning struck at him, each a thousand times in every instant. He Yu answered. Calling forth the Spring Rain Mirror once more, had turned aside what he could. The rest he sent to the Empyrean Ninefold Body tempering. The Monarch’s lightning struck the pillars and surged down them and between. He Yu’s skin took on the burnished shine of his enforcement technique. His chin remained high, even as he coughed up more blood.

A new front formed in the storm. It drove wind and rain and lightning before it. He Yu called forth his own storm, and despite its insignificance, met the Monarch as best he could. The two storms crashed into each other. A collision of power that shook the world, that rent apart the earth and scarred the land. Small and insignificant as he was in the face of this great primordial being, He Yu stood his ground.

Waves upon waves of qi crashed into one another. The sky itself split apart as the storms fought. The ground below drowned beneath the ceaseless rain. Heaven reached down and obliterated patches of steppe the size of cities. Only the eagle’s mountain—the Sky’s Throne—remained untouched.

He Yu stood before the Monarch as he’d stood before the strong so many times before. Defiant in his insignificance. Resolute and unflinching. Cast aside the difference in power, the might of this creature of ancient arts that stood in judgment, and what difference remained? How was this test any different from all the tests he’d already faced? All the tests he’d already passed.

Once again, the Monarch screamed. He Yu called upon his Dao in answer.

I will stand against even you, his spirit cried. In defiance. For no reason other than the truth that someone had to.

Behind him, a great palace rose once more to the heavens. Before and below, an infinite stair. Around him, the thundering drum beat its ceaseless tempo. Clouds and wind and rain. A dragon flowed and encircled and its scales sparked with the very essence of heaven.

With the Heavenly Palace at his back, He Yu stood tall. Broken and bloody once again, he faced the storm. The Monarch of Sky’s throne. He proclaimed his nature with a mighty shout, his spirit summoning all that it had in this moment, this formation of the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace. Accompanied by the great powers he’d earned the approval of. The strength he’d forged of his defiance of heaven, and his commitment to himself.

The Monarch’s eyes flashed gold. Power crashed over him. Not to overwhelm, but now to acknowledge. To embrace.

“Regent of the Heavenly Palace,” the great eagle said, each of its words a mighty rumble of thunder. Each of those thunderous tones carrying a spiritual weight and significance that threatened to shatter He Yu’s mind. “Now, tell me. What comes next?”