5.47 - Insight

Under the renewed clash of the storm and the twin black suns, a spiritual weight settled over the world. Weight that came from ever greater ideals, a grander sense of significance and purpose that all three experts brought to this struggle. This was more than simply an exchange of techniques. All three of them spoke their nature, their Way.

Before him, Tan Xiaoling and her uncle traded blows. As her tiger headed dao roared in fury and silence, tongues of flame leaped into the air with each strike against Tan Qingsheng’s nine-ringed blade. A storm of metal whipped up around them both. The one, a fine-grained tempest like the great storms of the White Desert. The other, a jagged mass of spikes more for massive and decisive blows than a steady war of attrition.

About the both of them, flaming black spears formed, then reformed as they lobbed their own iterations on the Mark of the Dark Sun at one another. Qi of black flame burst from every impact, ripping apart the surrounding land, reforming each wound anew with every technique unleashed.

He Yu lent his own weight as well. Heaven’s Descending Blade left great black scars of blasted glassy earth upon the land. Scars that lasted only for a moment, as another round of techniques erased the memories of their short lives. Calling the Five Crescent Winds, each sweep of his guandao carved swathes out of hills and earth and nearby mountains. He was—much like the other two—far more a force of nature than a mere human.

Above, the sky grew black as rolling clouds covered the twin blazing suns. They burned away moments later, and the desert below drank in the deluge, never once fully slaking its thirst. Each technique, each blow, each flex of one spirit or another—all of it reshaped the world.

As he moved with his Way, each adjustment to the flows of qi through his meridians or activation of his technique, He Yu observed. In what seemed like another life, decades ago, Zhang Lifen told him that as a cultivator advanced, their spirit impressed itself ever more upon the world. Back when he’d first manifested his presence under Old Guo’s training, he’d thought he understood what she meant. Now, he understood in truth.

He understood the weight he’d felt simply standing next to Elder Cai at their first meeting in person. He understood the crushing power of the battle over the sect, when three peak Eighth Realm experts clashed with one another. He understood the utter devastation this current struggle brought as it reshaped the very earth under heaven.

He Yu accepted his responsibility. How could he not?

As the fight became more and more like a meditation to him, as he cast his sight and memory back into his past, he saw the steps. He saw how so many little choices and ideals stacked up and made this moment what it was. What it had to be. How it made him into the manifestation of what he’d always strove for without fully realizing what he’d done or become.

He Yu moved in concert with all of existence, guided by the Dao of Heroism.

His guandao carved the air. Cloaked in wind and crackling with heaven, he drew the blade across the world with singular focus. A metal spike broke off from its fellows and slammed into the broad flat of his blade, sending his attack off course. He Yu met two eyes like molten gold.

“You’ve come far, He Yu.” Tan Qingsheng’s words held no malice. “It’s a shame you saw fit to stand against me. You would have gone so much further.”

“You’ve not won yet!” Tan Xiaoling’s shout was feral and raw. The fury cascading from her words was half a roar. The words echoed off of nothing, the sound redoubling over itself. It reminded He Yu of Tan Qingsheng’s technique, the roar of the golden tiger he’d used to paralyze them in their last fight.

As she launched into a flurry of strikes with her paired dao, one flaming black spear after another formed over her shoulders. Each formation of the Mark of the Dark Sun slammed into her uncle. Bursts of flame ripped into the earth, scorched his robes, and singed his hair. The raw, unrelenting fury of her assault forced him back, at least for a moment.

Tan Qingsheng’s nine-ringed blade flashed. His own formation of their family’s ultimate technique answered Tan Xiaoling’s attack. Explosions of black flame ripped through what remained of the blasted wasteland. A volley of jagged metal spikes glanced off a formation of the Spring Rain Mirror. He Yu slammed the Fist of the Heavens into Tan Qingsheng’s midsection. He shrugged off the attack, but it still left a blackened smoking crater around them.

The three experts exchanged blows and techniques. In the west, the sun crept below the mountains. The stars wheeled overhead. In the east, the sky turned to silver, then gold. Dawn broke over the land, and their struggle continued. For three days, the three experts shouted their nature at one another. Heaven split the sky, a black sun beat down upon the earth below. A white desert gleaming with metal held back the flood.

He Yu and Tan Xiaoling drew up next to one another. Across the blasted expanse stood Tan Qingsheng. He Yu couldn’t help but give in to a moment of awe. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d always imagined. The techniques they’d unleashed here over these past three days were so much more than what the stories had always spoken of. And although he’d been fighting nonstop for three full days, he barely felt it. He’d taken dozens of wounds and healed them all. His cultivation base still held enough qi that he could go for another three days if he needed to.

“He’s not even trying,” Tan Xiaoling said, her voice a mix of bitterness and determination.

As much as he hated to admit, He Yu had to agree. Over the course of the fight, Tan Qingsheng had been on the winning end of nearly every exchange. He’d shrugged off all of He Yu’s strongest attacks, and even now he treated this whole affair as if it was simply a game. He laughed as he attacked, and he’d only once lost the gleeful expression he’d otherwise worn the entire time.

“Then we push him harder,” He Yu said. If Tan Qingsheng wasn’t really trying, then they’d simply have to make him.

As one, they rushed their foe once more.

Tan Xiaoling ran with the speed of a golden tiger, black flames swirling in her wake even as her swords sparked anew. He Yu soared, heaven flashing along his weapon as the winds howled around him. They reached Tan Qingsheng at the same moment, He Yu dove from above while Tan Xiaoling went for a frontal assault.

A great crescent of heaven arced out from He Yu’s formation of the Sweeping Wind, empowered by all the qi he could cycle and all the killing intent he could lay into the technique. Tan Xiaoling launched a volley of fiery black spears as she released one formation of the Mark of the Dark Sun after another.

The rings on Tan Qingsheng’s sword jangled as he beat back the assault, but slowly his grin faded. Dozens of cuts opened across his skin, on his bulky bare arms, only to close up an instant later. He struck out with his nine-ringed blade, and He Yu turned the blow aside with the Spring Rain Mirror. For a moment, the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment showed him a path.

Around him, the pillars of the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering flashed with great arcs of heaven as He Yu poured his cultivation base into the technique. A formation of the Rushing Wind sent him surging forward, the technique’s power and speed bolstered by the Sky Dragon’s Flight. Into the tiniest of gaps, He Yu pushed all the qi and killing intent he could bring to bear.

His blade met flesh, and flesh parted. Blood flowed, and Tan Qingsheng roared.

He Yu turned aside a powerful backhand strike from the nine-ringed blade. The moment’s distraction he’d caused gave Tan Xiaoling and opening. She launched a formation of the Mark of the Dark Sun, while expanding her storm of metal to swallow both her and her uncle. He Yu joined them in the mass of blades, using his own command of wind qi to keep himself clear of her technique.

Bit by bit, they applied pressure. Bit by bit, the tide turned. But as they pushed, Tan Qingsheng pushed back. His killing intent redoubled, and the weight of his qi pressed down on He Yu. The black sun hung still in the sky, burning away the storm even as He Yu poured ever more qi into fueling it.

The golden tiger roared. A wave of paralyzing qi washed over He Yu, and he found the flow of his cultivation base disrupted. The roar redoubled, and his limbs grew heavy and slow. It continued, building on itself, rising to a crescendo that shook the foundations of the world. It was as if the flow of time itself had stopped, and the whole of heaven and earth stood still, if only for a moment.

Tan Qingsheng spit out a mouthful of blood. He looked ragged after that last push, his robes rent and flaked with dried blood from the countless wounds he’d already healed. His glee had been replaced by focus and determination. Like he’d realized this was no longer was some mere game. His nine-ringed blade gleamed in the fading light of another afternoon slowly darkening into night.

“Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He Yu thought he could hear a trace of pain from the countless wounds they’d opened on him. “Now, die.”

Tan Qingsheng’s presence crashed over He Yu. It wasn’t any stronger than before. The potency of his qi wasn’t any greater, nor was the accompanying knife-edge shine of his killing intent. No, this differed from being in the presence of a cultivator of greater advancement. Tan Qingsheng tapped something deeper. Something beyond his cultivation base itself that allowed him to impose his spirit upon theirs.

Amidst the jagged forest of metal blades growing from the expanse of sand stretching from one horizon to the next, He Yu saw battle. He saw thousands fight beneath the black sun. He saw them struggle beneath its burning gaze, and he saw them die. He opened his sight to the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment.

He saw the truth. This was what it meant to fully embrace one’s Dao. The personal path to the Eternal Dao was so much more than just some philosophical exercise. It was a manifestation of what He Yu had already realized days prior. Another lesson from his master snapped into place, as the insight he’d gained from this display took root in his spirit.

The connections between his nature, his Way, his Dao all fed one another. Manifested in his presence and through his Dao. A cultivator’s spirit was heavy. Imposing itself upon the world. This was the truth that underpinned the most obvious outward marker of an advanced cultivator—their mere existence, mere being, shaped the world around them. Forced it into conformity with their Way.

The links that forged the chain between his desires, the nascent manifestation of his presence, the formation of his Wayborn Seed, and now the realization of his Dao—they all became clear. What did it mean truly to defy the heavens? To reshape the world. To force the natural order to conform to his desires.

Tan Qingsheng was no false dragon. One didn’t make it to Soul Refining without coming to understand certain profound truths about heaven and earth. And while He Yu couldn’t have said how long Tan Qingsheng had stood within the Sixth Realm, he could say one thing. Tan Qingsheng had fully realized his Dao. Now he drew upon that connection with the ineffable, the unnameable. He imposed his spirit upon the world in a way that only came from a deep and profound understanding of his own nature, his own Way.

Tan Qingsheng stood at the center of a desert. Above, the black sun beat down, sapping life from the land. A forest of jagged blades rose to the heavens, sharp and gleaming with the promise of death. He Yu’s own spirit felt small and weak in comparison, although he knew it wasn’t.

He was stronger than he’d ever been. Stronger than he’d ever dreamed. Yet here, on a ruined plain outside the fabled Jade Mountain Citadel, he stood before one who should have been his equal. But that equal was an expert with a deeper understanding of his nature and his Way. And the understanding gave him the edge.

There were too many memories to sort through, too many steps he’d taken to reach this moment. He Yu couldn’t fully articulate why or the how, but he knew. He stood upon the threshold of something great. Something important and necessary. Like his first night at the sect where he saw himself standing at the foot of a mountain, he looked upon the peak.

Beyond Tan Qingsheng, he saw his true aim. He saw Jin Xifeng. This was a gate through which he must pass. He gripped his guandao, and cycled his cultivation base.

Tan Qingsheng fixed him with two gleaming golden eyes. “Come then,” he said. “Let us throw ourselves against one another. Let us struggle. Let us determine the truth of the world.”