Shen remained the early morning in his room. He couldn’t sleep, not until that scent died down. Why had it appeared again? He could barely notice it anymore, even when he killed Ling and the others all he could feel was a bulging discomfort. Whenever he remembered the massacre he had caused, the girl would come to his mind. He hadn’t paid attention to her features before piercing a hole in her throat and moving on, but now he pictured a mocking smile plastered on her face before she fell.

He nibbled on his fingernails nervously, but then stopped because the saliva was getting stuck to his fingers and even more frenetically he cleaned it. With the little amount of qi he had, Shen made the ultimate effort to cleanse his whole body.

Her face appeared constantly in his mind, it repeated time and time again. Sometimes she looked angry, on other moments he caught a trace of ecstasy at getting hurt, but often there was that same wicked lust in her red eyes as if she was preying him –as if she was out to devour him. He stood up and curled his hands into fists, his jaw locked with clenching teeth, and sat on the bed and sprawled on it while rolling to the sides, pinching his cheeks and feeling his face. ‘Why?’ He racked his brains for minutes and that was the biggest question that he couldn’t answer, it made no sense.

He looked at the ceiling, at the door, at the small entrances in the cultivation room and hugged his arms while backing down to the mirror. How did he get captured? Every single crevice and every single path looked completely defenseless even though the room was impervious to any disciple of the outer sect.

He remembered the moment Ling was killed and how the instructor at the court knew of it immediately. ‘They’re watching…!’ He turned around and investigated any nook and cranny he had overlooked, but the search was pointless, he already knew everything there was to know of this room. But he could see them and very clearly: eyes, distinguished red eyes. From all directions, from all spotted places and those invisible to the normal eye, they stared intently, sometimes batting their eyelids.

They saw everything that happened with him, moment by moment, and Shen could see perfectly what was depicted in their irises. Disappointment, excitement, mockery, disgust… Disgust for his clothes, disgust for his words, disgust for the bed he slept in and the walls he touched, disgust for his body. His entire existence had been resumed to a joke of destiny, and he was valued less than the filth on the leg of a dead cockroach.

Shen’s heartbeats intensified, he closed his eyes not wanting to see any more of that, but the burning sensation in his chest kept growing. He looked at the mirror – he was the same as before – but a single speck of dirt covered his face. He rubbed on his cheeks, splashing water on them and passing a towel, but it wouldn’t come out no matter what.

He punched the glass in a fit of anger and the shattered pieces cut and puncture his skin. He stared at the broken glass with empty eyes. It was still dirty, he approached it and cleaned it with a wet towel – it was in the glass, not on his face. He stared at it in disbelief, why did he do that. ‘No… What am I doing?’ He picked a broken shard and plucked it, but he couldn’t even recognize the pain amidst that lingering discomfort, only observing the blood flowing out.

He removed the remaining pieces of glass stuck on him. He needed the blue medicine to manipulate his qi and heal, so he searched around and found that the flasks were seven – he had taken only one of them ever since coming to the outer sect, so that meant one month had gone by.

Shen couldn’t wave off his shaky feelings, but after managing to sleep, the scent of blood had reverted back to how it was, very discreet - he could now focus a bit better.

He wanted to learn a technique to protect himself against whoever wished him harm. It seemed to happen frequently with him, always facing the worst and most absurd situations one after the other.

However, he didn’t have the mindset to step out of his room. Not like that.

What he needed the most was something to distract him. It was then that he felt how much his sense of pain was important: if he didn’t lose it, he wouldn’t be punished, he wouldn’t have a mask to protect, he wouldn’t feel the need to surpass Zhu Gong’s expectations and he wouldn’t fight so hard to guarantee a good performance, resulting in a huge backlash afterwards.

He wouldn’t have met the girl… And that would have never happened.

He blamed her for the rape, the hate he felt for her was extreme – but he was also afraid, and that fear was only surpassed by the sense that he was the one responsible for bringing it all upon him.

He loathed that weak self who couldn’t stand up to his own.

The later hours of the morning were spent circulating his qi to a controllable state before he could heal. No matter how well he renewed the skin on his wrist, he could always see the thin line growing from it like a vein, and he wrapped it on an extra layer of cloth to restrain it, keeping it from spreading as if it was a disease that needed to be contained.

During that time, he also remembered about the book he received after the events on the hall of scrolls.

Shen opened the book. The first passage, “To you, the loser”, was very impactful to him. It was like the author knew of his circumstances before they unwinded, and even that, perceived as a manner to convey words, held him closer to the following pages. He was momentarily relieved of his situation and genuinely invested in the book. He wanted the read to last as long as possible, and he did it lazily, munching every word with care.

“Before you question the need to read a book in this critical time of our lives, I must remind you of the huge gap between me and your kin. Granted, some of you do have the qualities to stand with me as equals, and I am certain that, with your advanced intellect and power standing, you will enlighten the ignorant fools who don’t recognize the value of this piece.

All the knowledge I present is crucial to our survival.

Now, about the contents: I will refrain from indulging in any philosophical or abstract discussions in order to keep the book concise, practical and useful. Some of you may have met me before under more peaceful times, and this is a reminder that, while I can and often do question our society and morals, this is not my aim here. We need soldiers, and we needed them as soon as possible. This book contains the methods to make you all stronger, in order to reach that goal I have included detailed anatomy of your bodies, workings of Qi types, their benefits and misgivings, techniques to improve each cultivation type, explained in detail, body strengthening, body modification and transformation, a few pointers on crafting and using utility items, lessons on strategy, tactics and subterfuge, plus a chapter regarding societal rules and how to abuse its flaws.

Of course, not everything comes for free, and I can’t let so much power leak. While writing this, I had to carefully control the information to balance how much power to give each of you, so that the same thing doesn’t happen again twice. The amount of information will be limited to your characteristics and level, and although knowing each other well gives us the upper hand, it would be very strange after the war, risking the possibility of rekindling the flames of old and deeply rooted grudges.

That was all that had to be said. Use the summary to navigate through the chapters and search the last pages for terms you might be unfamiliar with. If you are a friend, I hope we see each other through the end of this. If you are an enemy, then save the animosity for another time. I wish you all good luck.”

There was an image of a circumscribed tree after the last word. The circle was subdivided in a blue part, near the roots, a green part, at the trunk, and a foaming white behind the branches, with the reading “Ocean and Sky, Earth and Darkness”. He had seen that symbol before, he just couldn’t remember where.

Passing by the pages, Shen noted on how most of the chapters’ names were grayed and their contents blank, whereas the ones available were only the most basic, introductory lessons, which he had already learned before. A few passages were insightful, but in general, those few passages strayed into the grounds of pure theory, which he enjoyed a lot, but were only snippets. He felt as if the author was right there, speaking to him, and although the discussion between the two veered into a path which had nothing to do with the book, there were many points in which they agreed.

The very soul of the cultivator who had put his time on engraving these words was reflected on his few, simple paragraphs, which showed extreme restraint in trying to digress into more esoteric topics and keeping true to what he had vouched in the beginning. Shen felt like he would’ve enjoyed meeting that person, maybe play some strategic game which he never had access to. In these pages, he felt at peace.

While the imagery of the hypothetical encounter filled his mind, he reached a chapter filled with colorful drawings, depicting the figures of beasts and men alike, “Our enemies”. While they all looked different and outlandish, what really snatched Shen’s attention was how incredibly detailed and seemingly accurate the author described each of their body parts, how they functioned and what made them that way – on an absurdly small scale which he didn’t understand and the author hadn’t bothered to explain. He went to the last pages to find the meaning of the word “pattern” in the way it was used, and what he got was “the most basic aspect of an object, presented on an astronomically small scale, which in turn shows and explains why said objects function in a determinate way. Impossible to distinguish in normal circumstances” It came to him as a lot of nonsense and he closed the book, but it remained in his head along with the other lines he read.

“In which circumstances did he write this book?” Shen wondered. Regardless of these, it would be a world in which he could forget about everything.

***

The fog looked as static as always in the vicinities, though the sword moving through the air and cutting everything in its way did a reasonable job at causing some turmoil. The blade drew continuously, with no change and no gradation, going like the slow tick of a clock.

- What do you think? – asked a young man lazily, laid on the ground with a piece of thin iron in his mouth, chewing it without rush.

- …

- He’s quite capable. If we help him, we might get a better placement in the mock battles.

The other boy went on with swinging the sword. He did it rhythmically, with well-paced mechanical movements, without a hint of getting tired. His friend stared at him with a smile on his face. ‘You’re ignoring me? Cute’

After finishing the hundredth strike silence reigned over the air, the last slice was directed home, to its simple leather scabbard. The boy sat on his knees, taking one quick breath, and lifted a finger before resuming his training.

- Likely, an early stage first layer.

A sweeping motion, then withdraw, and another brush, withdraw. The metallic sheen took control of the abounding nothingness of the fog, making for comfortable scenery to watch at leisure and maybe even sleep, something they definitely hadn’t done for a very, very long time. That moment could last a bit longer if time wasn’t of such importance.

- Is that a no?

- …

- I will take that as a do whatever you want.

Now alone, the small swordsman stopped to observe the shrinking back of his companion. It didn’t look like anything else to him, just a back, even though it was definitely smaller than his. Up close, he should be a foot higher than him, but his back was always the same, small.

He drew back the sword and walked down a stairway.

***

A few hours had passed since Shen had reached the part of the book that dealt with Qi manipulation. It was something everyone could do on a basic level, but he had no idea how to enhance it. There was a chapter revolving around Qi types and he thought he could get an explanation on his, but unfortunately, there weren’t any available entrances. If the thousands of years old Zhu Gong held no clues on it, who would?

Shen soon discovered that his manipulation of Qi was very shallow. All he had been using was his inner Qi, which explained why just a few minutes of fighting, even if at his maximum output, made him so strained afterward – so much that he could barely feel it running through his spirit-veins. He still lacked in both spectrums, internal and external, but the later one especially. Manipulating the external Qi greatly facilitated movements of any kind.

The process was taxing on the body, and normally on the mind too, although the challenge of knowledge he did enjoy. He had to identify the route through which Qi entered his body, and the anatomy charts certainly helped him with that, but, due to the different arrays of spirit-veins and its variations, there was no recollection of an ideal pathway for every practitioner – ultimately, it was trial and error, and finding the best paths to help the passage of Qi in the body, among the countless spirit-veins and its ramifications, was a tiring process. He could feel the distinct sensation of being sapped of all of his energies as he rotated the forces inside of him. He had felt it before, after the big fight, but he was unable to process that sensation since his body was numb all over.

- Shen – said a voice in his head. It was rugged and coarse, he could never forget that tone, but he wasn’t happy at hearing it. His memories started to surface again and his body started to coil, touching both of his arms and flexing his knees. Quickly, he was shrinking and compressing as if he could force his body to suddenly erase itself on its own.

- Disciple, things didn’t go as I planned. Forget about that letter, we’re going back to First Island.

‘It is me that has to say sorry, master… The fault is entirely mine for disobeying you, and then disappointing you time and time again. I really want to go back with you…’

Those words never came out.

How much more useless could he become? So much that Zhu Gong had to go back on his words and retract his punishment? Since when had he started to feel so? To care so much about letting down others? He had never felt so dependent on a person.

- Master, if possible… I would like to… Stay – he said, but his voice came as forced and anxious, completely unlike the calm tone and thoughtful answers that matched the situation, which was how he usually answered. He definitely didn’t wish for that, so why? Zhu Gong was dumbfounded.

- Even if you don’t want it, we’re still going back. It’s better to train you a bit more before letting you out.

Shen bitted on his lower lip. Why bother? That out there was the real world he was dealing with. Zhu Gong had admonished him of it time and time again, that future was unpredictable and anything could happen, especially the bad things. He would go back, train harder, then what? Those people who did him harm are training too, and they would achieve more than him in a shorter time. Suffering existed and it extended to all of humanity – Shen included.

- Do you really wish to stay? – Zhu Gong asked, noticing his silence.

- I’m asking… Is there… - he drew a long breath – Is there no way… No way I can… Stay?

The old man partially understood what was happening with his disciple. He wasn’t aware of the details, but he was sure that something terrible must have happened to him, and as a master, he needed to show him support. Shen was struck at his weakest moment, and Zhu Gong’s job was to protect him while he was too frail, but he couldn’t always be in the sect. He didn’t think anyone would come to Shen seeking for trouble, the problematic ones were mostly in the inner sect, not there, but now he recognized that Shen desperately needed a way to protect himself.

- I can block your memories from the last month. Erasing the memories of a cultivator is nearly impossible and I don’t know of anyone who can do this. Blocked memories can surface again at any moment, they will come back to haunt you… At the worst possible times – he spoke, a tinge of bitterness when muttering the last line.

- I understand… And I still wish to do it.

A moment of silence surfaced between the two.

- Fine…

A white sheet covered Shen’s eyes.

‘I will find out who did that, rest assured’.

***

Shen woke up from a daze, color returning to his eyes. He felt like his head had become lighter as if something heavy was weighing down on it and it had finally been removed. He could only wonder what it was. He would try to figure out what happened, but it really felt like he had just woken up. The last thing he remembered was killing Meng Hua and coming back. ‘I really need to watch out for my condition. I barely made it here…’

He looked at his side; the mysterious book was half open. He picked it up and studied it. ‘Did I read this thing? Maybe I left it open when I threw it aside’ he shrugged.

There was a letter in the doorway; he crouched down to collect it, recognizing the letter of the sender.

“I didn’t expect you to lose the mask on your first day, but I don’t think you could have avoided it. That being the case, you did very well afterward. You must have met Chi Zheng, he told me every single detail, you certainly surprised me! Get some rest today, your body is still recovering. A good place to relax is at the Catacomb of the Thousand Warriors if you ignore the rich smell of earth down there… Knowing your tastes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

There was a stream of very faint ink in the later parts of the note, as if something had been hidden or glossed over.

Shen’s cheeks blushed red, he felt the warmness of seeing his efforts recognized. Lately, their relationship had veered towards the master-disciple side, he had forgotten how much Zhu Gong cared for him – his austere figure prevented him from showing much kindness. Shen smiled softly and walked out of his room. ‘I didn’t trust you enough, grandpa. I’m sorry for being so shortsighted’.

Zhu Gong was the first to extend a hand to him, the first who cared for his well-being. It didn’t matter that he had ulterior motives, some things would never change.

The tomb mentioned by his master was probably the only underground facility in sword cemetery, and it was hard to find amidst the dense mist, but with the map burned in his mind and confirming the path by analyzing underneath – if it wasn’t a frequented place then the ground area should be less compact – he reached a stairway that led down.

He took the first step towards it and his feet ached with pain for a second before a hot air current enveloped it. It was like entering into cold water. The first step would always hurt, but afterward, the body quickly adjusts. In fact, it was strange how not a speck of dust approached the stone stairway; an unknown barrier separated the outside from the inside.

One step at a time, he went down. There was no noise aside from the gloomy murmur of the stale air traveling back and forth, hitting the moisture of the walls. His shoes touched the square, polished surfaces, and although he could make out the layout of the underground, his hands were anchored to the sides.

The darkness seemed to swallow everything and it was strange how it didn’t feel uncomfortable, the place hadn’t originally been designed to hold visitors.

After a few minutes, he reached the end of the stairway. There he could see, as clear as day, the glowing words engraved on plaques, nearing the tombs, illuminating the surroundings. He wandered off, looking at their names and what else was written, while also staring at the objects positioned carefully at the feet of their graves. They were small objects, mostly sculptures of humans, weapons, pieces of clothing, houses and beasts – mostly gold or jade, and a fine silvery metal. Shen assumed the deceased’s belongings must have been buried with them, too.

About what was written, some had the description of their in-battle prowess, and the pity it was that their talents were lost. Others had their friends engrave the recollection of fond memories, from times more peaceful, which Shen could sympathize with, and all of them had their faces carved somewhere in their tombs, so vivid they almost looked like the actual person – if not embellished, since he knew not one of them.

There lay the story and foundation of their whole sect, a place apparently anyone could enter.

A few steps ahead, there was a very large mausoleum. Something crept through Shen’s hands as he read the white slate.

- Here lies my Zhu family…

Shen put his hands on the doors closing the entrance. It was cold as iron and it held marks of bruises and burns – it held its fair share of possible intruders, but didn’t seem any less durable. He pushed with all of his strength, the veins on his arms bulging up and pressing against his skin, but the more the small crevice opened, the greater the force that went against him. It was only half-open and when he couldn’t afford to go on any longer, it shut down slowly. The last glimpse he had was of the sheer amount of graves in there. There were so many that he couldn’t discern if the glowing texts were meant for all family members or if there were details for each one of them, which he was inclined to think on.

Shen circled the Zhu’s mausoleum and found no end to it, the structure was large enough to extend for kilometers. He felt sad for his master. ‘Grandpa must have lost everyone in that battle…’ he had listened from Zhu Gong a few times, that there was a large scale battle, sometimes he called bloodbath, in which many lives were lost and that was the trigger for the establishment of a sect – to recover lost power in preparation for a future war.

“Both sides came to a halt, but the war is still ongoing. You must be careful in here, but even more in the outside. The only reason we can go on like this has a part in the difficulty of making so many different sects join hands against us, like before, but they still stir up trouble outside. Well, you don’t have to worry about that now”

Shen wondered if Zhu Gong had intentionally sent him there so he would find this place. If that was the case, then he certainly succeeded in arousing his curiosity.

He walked to a nearby grave and sat with his back against the wall.

The ground wasn’t uncomfortable and chilly as he imagined it to be, the environment was actually hot in general, and so he simply laid there thinking about his current state in the sect. He couldn’t call it great, it definitely wasn’t even good, but there were some memorable moments which he would never get to experience in the mortal realm. Among those were the days at First Island, training in the hem of that mystical lake, learning new words, even eating that very strange and awry food was a funny aspect of that time.

They were all fond memories, yet looked so distant. ‘I wish I could turn back time… Why should peace be bought with blood?’

Shen shrugged. Those were questions to think on later, he finally had a change of air and some time alone which wasn’t spent on training. Rarely did people pass by, but those who did were mostly elderly, and they didn’t bat an eye to his presence, going on with their businesses.

The only person who at least looked around his age was a youngster staring at a grave which he recognized as Wang Yu’s, a slayer of demonic beasts. At first, he thought there would be a resemblance to Wang Fan, seeing that the name of their families was exactly the same – even the way it was written – but the battle had occurred at least a thousand years ago. Regardless if he was her ancestor, they had little to do with each other now.

He was curious, however, as to why that boy stared so intently at the gravure of Wang Yu, but he couldn’t see which kind of face he was making. The boy touched the tip of the spear that was stuck in the ground; he caressed it slowly, feeling the hard metal, then left.

After some time, Shen left too. He had relaxed there for quite a bit, but he was afraid to lose himself in that place, since there was no way he could know how much time had passed outside. He chose to return to his room and read that book, something he missed for not doing.

***

The woman’s face lacked any hint of emotion, per usual, rather contradicting with her hobbies - although there wasn’t a need for inspiration to produce good paintings, they certainly helped to make some of the greatest works.

‘Another brush, just a tinge of red to give that touch of the evening sky…’ The pencil stroked the top of the frame lightly. The same painting, the same angle – she had done it countless times before, and some couldn’t help but think it was either dedication or a complete disregard for variety, boredom that held no limits.

The sky was colored exactly as it was seen, she breathed out a sigh of relief and put the frame on the near table, selecting a clear one to start all over again.

- Impressive work, Seven.

- ‘Sigh… One annoying bastard after the other. At least this one knows how to talk properly’

- Thank you, supervisor. Your presence truly brightens my day.

- Haha, is that so? Then I might come here more often – he said merrily, to her dislike.

‘It was sarcasm, you idiot’.

- I am humbled, but you must have more pressing matters to attend to.

- That is true. I came here to solve one of those.

- is that so? Then please, if I can be of help, you can count on me.

- Oh, you will be, rest assured.

Her eyes shrunk abruptly. A black dot appeared on the surface of the new painting, bleeding black. She took it off her view immediately and destroyed it, shocking the man. ‘Sigh… Both paths are a hassle’

- I did not know you held such… Ehem… Enthusiasm towards painting.

When she noticed, her breathing had become uneven and her hand trembled profusely. ‘This body is so difficult to handle…’ She stared at the broken frame as pink leaves covered them.

- Are you… Alright? – he asked with uncertainty. He had never seen this kind of behavior out of one of the single digits. It was quite dangerous to have someone with serious issues amongst the strongest of the sect.

- Yes, I am fine. Sorry for showing something unpleasant. I have painted these meadows for years, so I became sensitive to every small mistake I make on my paintings. But let’s not dwell on this, what business did you speak of?

- I see… The issue regards Du Ye. As you know, he is quite special to us, and it is important that he is led in the right direction.

- The direction predicted by his eyes – she replied in unnoticed scorn.

- Exactly. I heard that you lectured him on his thoughts yesterday. Do not do that, we need to see if his visions are accurate. If you interfere, the whole map we traced will come down to nothing.

A strong headache bloomed inside her. It was already there, planted in her brain as a small seed, and just a little bit of perturbation made her head split apart, dark streams polluting her contorted view. She struggled to keep her face with the same stoic expression, but it wouldn’t hold for long.

- If it happens despite intervention, is it not an even better pointer?

- You know it is not that simple... We do not want to lose a loyal subject, do you understand?

- Yes… Of course, supervisor – she replied, an itch crawling at her back and making her desperate to move. ‘Disappear from my sight, you unsightly pile of walking flesh!’ she strongly wished.

- Good, I will see you another time, when it is proper to do so. You know what to do, right?

- Yes, I do…

‘I know very well what to do...’

***

There were four boys running in one direction, all doting white robes detached of any distinguishing feature. The one at the forefront suddenly stumbled and fell on a slope for a disastrous fall, while the others circled him and beat him.

The sky was the navy blue color Nana had created with her brush, although that painting never came to fruition as it was destroyed. The shadings of the grass and the blushes of the pink trees, the wind dragging the top of some tall greenery, everything was perfectly depicted. Although the painting ignored the existence of the group of four, there was something crucial not depicted in that scene, even if it looked absolutely the same as before.

She wasn’t there.