Gaobun stopped midway through the path down the mountain. His eyes searched the maid behind him. She was nowhere to be seen. He was sure she was right behind him a moment ago. She might have stumbled on something on the way, he thought. She loved flowers. Yellow sunflowers were her favorite, but any exotic ones were still in her field of interest. From time to time, some random flower popped out of the mountain in random. So she always ventured inside the forest to find new ones while he stayed in the village with children.

''Young master!'' Her voice sounded behind him at that time. Gaobun turned back from the beautiful scenery. He saw the maid rushing down the mountain path.

''Watch out!'' He called out, the road was rocky. If she fell, she would hurt her knees or face. The maid smiled from afar and in a few seconds came beside him.

''How kind of you, young master.'' She grinned and took him up. Gaobun saw her gaze fall behind him, and he rotated as well. He found a comfortable position in her arms and looked further.

The scenery in front of them was the result of the decades worth of work. There were farms of rice, the most common food in their area, that stretched beyond what he could describe. The green leaves and puddles of water cooled down the air down the mountain in the summer. At both sides were fields of wheat and groups of corn. The yellow sea, each from one side, seemed to be wanting to swallow the middle. It was a peaceful battlefield though, one that gave him peace.

At the ends of each line of farm, far from the battlefield, was shacks. They looked hazy from afar. Yet, Gaobun could see their sturdy appearance and bright brown doors with some effort. They weren't designed for people to live, they built to store the food for use. Although, some villagers set up beds or cooking utensils to spend their nights in the shacks. One could never know when snow clogged the path to the peak in winter.

Well, on top of the mountain, where most of the villagers lived, the scenery was much more magnificent. He could also see the far away Bluemoon lake from there in its entirety. But he was busy playing with children, so most of the time he didn't have the chance to look.

''Should we go now, young master?'' The maid asked and raised him to the air. He caught a glimpse of the lake from there.

''Yes, let's go.'' He replied. ''But let me down, I want to walk myself.''

''Of course, young master.'' She accepted his request and put him down. Gaobun yawned the moment his feet touched the ground.

''Are you tired, young master?''

''No, I am not.'' Gaobun smiled. ''I felt sleepy from looking at the fields. They are pretty.''

''You are right, young master, aren't they.'' She crouched and held Gaobun's chubby cheeks. ''Then why don't we thank them tomorrow for their work? I am sure the elders would appreciate it.''

''Yes, we can do that!'' Gaobun smiled. ''But let's go home, I want to talk with mama first.'' Then Gaobun took the lead. They weren't too high on the mountain path, but it took them more than ten minutes to get down. They followed a dirt road among the grass, created by the continuous steps of the stream of people. They took the right turn from an intersection, where the left led to the fields they saw above. At last, their home became visible.

It was a two-floored mansion made of exquisite wood. The way leading to the wide-open entrance turned into a path of white marble. Around and among the road's floor were the plants of the maid. She learned how to cultivate them from Gaobun's mother, who also helped her to plant them. The maid was always proud of her work. Sometimes, his mother called her Nectar. Though she called her master, like how she called the rest of the household. Gaobun's eyes darted around the surface of the rood, he noted where were the little buds and all, then moved forward.

He hopped and danced around, his steps ranged from wide to small and brushed past the large saplings and flowers. He also sang the song he learned from the village up the mountain. The maid trailed behind him, her face carried a smile worthy of gold. They stepped inside the wide gates of the estate, the floor creaked and squealed. With a hurried pace Gaobun shot towards the upper floor, he wanted to tell his father about the daily journey to the mountain and the fields he saw.

He climbed the stairs with ease. The rich resources of a cultivation family, of course, helped the heir the most. He showed the agility of a ten-year-old as a four-year-old. The maid kept up with his pace and they both reached the scene at the same time.

Blood.

The maid’s eyes opened wide. Gaobun noticed it, but he didn’t know what blood was. He just understood that it smelled bad and looked horrible. He saw his uncle and aunt and mother, lying to one side or another with huge gashes around their left chests. The maid hurried over to their side, Gaobun looked on, confused, and came before his mother.

He pushed her once.

‘’Mama?’’

She didn’t respond, her head dangled to the side as if she shrugged her shoulders. Gaobun’s eyes lit.

‘’Are you angry again, mama?’’ He smiled and opened his arms wide. Whenever he did something wrong, his mother would shrug her shoulders and avert her gaze. But he knew, when he opened his arms, she would let go of her anger and hug him. She loved him after all, she was his mother. From the background, he heard a fearful whimper and hurried steps.

‘’Mama?’’ But she didn’t. She still sat, her eyes sunk and grey, and continued to escape from his gaze. ‘’Mama, why don’t you give me a hug? Did I do something wrong?’’ He came closer to her and leaned, low enough to see her dull eyes. ‘’Mama, are you tired?’’ He grasped her with his little arms, some of the bad-smelling blood painted his face. He embraced her for some time, then lifted his head. In wonder, Gaobun swept his tongue around the blood on his cheeks once, then almost vomited. It made him nauseous, it was bitter. Gaobun hurried back.

‘’Mama, you rest. I will look for dad, alright?’’

‘’Young master-’’ As soon as he turned around, however, the maid took him into her embrace. Tears streamed down her face, her lips tattered around saying something and muttering, but the most obvious of it all was her sorrow.

‘’What is wrong?’’ Though he asked, Gaobun didn’t receive the answer he was looking for. The maid continued to keep him in her arms, shaking, and sealed her eyes shut. Gaobun waited. He started to realize something was wrong, but he didn’t know what was. He wished his mother could wake up soon, so he could tell her what happened.

Time passed and the tears of the maid stopped flowing.

‘’Young master, can you wait in the main hall- No.’’ She first made a request, then retracted it. She seemed shaken enough and Gaobun was clever enough to see the worry in her eyes. She rose, Gaobun inside her arms, and made her way to the study room.

‘’Are we going to see dad?’’ Gaobun asked.

‘’Yes...young master. We need to see the Family Head.’’ She replied in a dry voice. She gulped, flashed a bitter smile, and pushed him deeper into her chest.

Gaobun didn’t felt the warmth of his mother from her bosom.

The maid came before the study room and knocked twice, in regulation, then without waiting for any approval opened the door.

This room was messier than the outside. Furniture turned into rubbish and dust, body parts floated inside the puddle of blood at the center. And the Family Head, unmoving, sat motionless on his chair near the window.

‘’Master!’’ The maid called out and hurried to his side. She was right before the table behind him when her words stuck in her throat.

Gaobun couldn’t see his father because of the maid, but the lack of response made him aware of something. His dad was also tired like his mother? Why were they tired and coated in those bad water anyway? It could be wine. They looked pretty familiar, but the smell was different. They might be drunk and passed out.

The maid fell on her knees, tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes again. She almost let out a cry, Gaobun felt the force traveling through her heaving chest, but she stopped. Her eyes caught something on the study table, a talisman of communication, bright red. It read Cinder on the surface. She grasped it and turned it around. Snow wrote on the other side. A small light appeared in her dull eyes. Without knowing and not caring about who was on the other side, she sent her Qi to establish the line.

Immediately, someone responded with fluctuations of Qi, and she opened her mouth.

‘’Qiuji family...’’

*********

A bright streak of flame shot out in the sky and flickered, from the cluster of fire a silhouette appeared.

Gaobun stepped out, holding Ubel in his arms, and looked down towards the castle at the center. Beast horde pushed through the southern and eastern sections of the city and crowded around the castle, where most of the immortals gathered to hold back the rush.

He didn’t look further and averted his gaze to Ubel twitching in his hands. There was a huge gash on his chest, some of the ribs inside snuck out of the torn muscles and pierced through the skin of the other half. Gaobun couldn’t help but wince at the sight. When he sent his Qi inside, to check and look for a cure for this boy’s weak body, he froze. His face paled. For a singular moment, his eyes traced the spatial ring on his left hand, squeezing the flesh around the fourth finger.

He pulled Ubel closer to his chest, let his head lay on his shoulders, and tightened his grip. He felt horrible. He felt disgusted at the sight, ashamed. His rage boiled like magma. No matter how brief it was, his face still reddened. He was supposed to, he had to feel like this. Even if it was strange, out of nowhere, and unreasonable to some extent, this was what sect taught him to feel like when he was about to lose someone.

There is a thin line between losing someone and being about to lose someone. Gaobun recounted the words of his master inside his head, to find some peace and relieve the stress he felt at the moment. What one lost is lost, there is no coming back. There are only memories to burden you, or, perhaps, belongings left for the sake of your friendship or brotherhood. It is natural to grieve or weep, for you have nothing else to do other than pray and shed tears.

He knew what his master, Windblade, meant. He had done the same. When he came onto the mountain, under the apprenticeship of his late-master, and discovered neither of his parents came back. Tears and whimpers were the only things he could calm himself as a child. Adding on that was the departure of his maid, who he never found until today. All left on his shoulders was the small bits of memories and dreams of those moments, then nothing more. It ceased to exist, time eroded those scenes from his mind. He had no more burdens to carry on at this point, Gaobun reaffirmed.

But in the latter, it is not the burden that is heavier. It is no longer appropriate, even, to call it a burden. If I were to name it, I would call it an inconvenience. What you fear, what you dread from there on is the consequences, the impact the death will have on your life. The other’s life is as much important as the tremor it will send through your own.

It was such a funny word: Inconvenience. Just a small problem, not worth mentioning in the face of rushing time and incoming end. For the first time, ever, he didn’t agree with his master. But he had no argument at this point. Or at least, he had no one to defend himself, his point. Because his master was right.

He felt troubled by the wounded Ubel, he had no qualms about his life ending here.

No.

That was a complete lie.

He dreaded, he felt true terror trembling his insides like the first time he came to know death. He wanted to shout, smash boulders in anger, let his emotions run wild...and cry. He wanted to cry because he had a way to prevent his death. He could save this boy, who gave him nothing but annoyance and slight amusement from the first day they met, yet he didn’t want to. He had no qualms about his life ending here.

Because if it didn’t, he wasn’t sure if he would want to live more.

Gaobun felt the air around him shake. Dark clouds slightly above him parted into multiple groups of mists and scattered, they escaped from the incoming strike. He hurried to turn his head, pulled Ubel further into his embrace, and closed his eyes.

From his glabella, invisible to everyone but him, a strand of light shot out. His dark grey light matched with another line from afar, they tangled into each other, changing colors. His light turned red and the other turned grey, then Gaobun opened his eyes.

He appeared inside a tunnel circled by seven brilliant colors of a rainbow. They bore a resemblance to the strand of light on his glabella, yet their radiance glowed brighter. They illuminated the invisible, dark space beneath his feet and showed him the way. He exhaled and took a step.

As he kept going further and further, the lights trailed behind him. They carved the way, where he came and where he went. They looked like playful children at some point. If Gaobun forced himself he could hear eerie giggles from their shine. His scalp went numb. Yet, the weak breathing beside his terrified him the most. The undertone inside that breathing.

Not the incoming end, but the decision awaiting at last.

He continued on the path with no worry of the outside world. Whenever he swapped places with one of his avatars, he would be exiled from the reality of the heavens. He was outside the rule of the heavens, the laws governing the earth. But space had its limitations and tolerance. And he knew, this unspeaking, unhearing entity had no patience towards others invading its body.

Space was alone after all, it lived off alone and, at some point, would die alone. All by himself. Sometimes, even he wanted to accompany the space. He wished he could be the space. Boundless, powerful, unbreaking. Stoic, even, yet overprotective for its children. But he couldn’t. No matter how much he longed to become the space, no matter what he accomplished. He could never be the same with space.

He halted his steps.

Gaobun turned around to look back at the path he came. It was dark, again, like the terrain beneath his feet. The radiance of the lights didn’t exist beyond where he stood and they pointed to only one thing. Forward. He had a feeling at this moment, something that made him ashamed.

Space didn’t like cowards.

Space didn’t love the ones tangling with the past.

Space hated those who wished they could leave everything behind and move on. Just like how he wished at this point.

He had no right to take the decision on whether to leave Ubel to die or destroy his cultivation. But him not willing to take this was cowardice? Screw space! He wanted to shout, but it indeed was cowardice. When there was no one to take the decision other than him, how could he leave things to the flow of fate? Only to not regret it at some point? He would feel the immense shame of his actions in the future if he didn’t shoulder the consequences today. That was what space told him.

That was what he saw inside the darkness behind.

He let out a deep sigh and turned around. His steps hurried, the lights trailing behind, Ubel exhaling last of his breaths, the path behind him collapsing, the avatar greeting from the other end of the tunnel. Gaobun took a deep, deep breath, then let go of it.

He passed by the side of his avatar, whom he used to look at himself. From the eyes of the blazing cluster of flames, he looked...pitiful. But also heroic, he didn’t know where that word came from. Somehow, something called him heroic.

It was laughable.

He left the tunnel of light and the path disappeared. The layout of their house, their small residence came in sight. He stepped inside the kitchen and laid Ubel on the hard, wooden couch at the side. Then he took out his ring from his hand. Ring in his palm, he sat right beside Ubel. Even like this, he stood one head taller than him. He still looked down at him.

Gaobun opened his palm. With his index finger, he traced the surface. The inscriptions were exquisite, the dragon head was magnificent. He knew just by touching that whoever carved this was a master, someone with miraculous hands. And the black stone, too, placed between the jaws of the dragon head that held his items. Its surface was smooth, he never knew the stone was this soft.

From the tip of his finger, under his cracked nails and above his chocolate skin, a Qi stream shot out and connected with the ring. He looked through the few things; Nine sets of robes, several promissory notes from the bank at the Cindersnow city, a rusty lance from his home, and lastly a pill. A top-grade healing pill, made for the use of path openers. Not for the likes of Ubel, whose meridians would shatter from the recoiling energy.

Gaobun took out the pill and grasped with his index and middle finger.

He leaned towards Ubel, opened his mouth, and hung the pill right above his lips.

What did he have to do now?

His hands shook. He felt the avatar he swapped places with blink out of existence. The avatar sent him the traces of the same aura that invaded Ubel’s body.

Gaobun grit his teeth.

His head crashed, soft, on Ubel’s chest. His fingers grasped the pill tighter.

Did he have the right to steal Ubel’s cultivation, his life, his dreams? Or did he have the right to leave him to die here, without knowing why?

Either way, he would go on to his new life in reincarnation without accomplishing anything.

Mortals were weak. Even if he was to be a past immortal, even if his physique would tower over puny mortals or even cultivators below his past rank, he would be unworthy in the eyes of the sect. Sect didn’t need the weak, or maimed, or crippled.

Sect wouldn’t accept him.

He would have no chance to prove himself...but who said so?

Gaobun let go of the pill.

It fell between Ubel’s lips and touched his tongue. It melted into a cozy, warm liquid and flowed right into Ubel’s belly. Pill’s power enveloped his chest and his wounds, they started to heal with visible speed. His bones retracted into the ribcage and assimilated together, the muscles wriggled around and stretched towards each other to connect. The skin grew again and in no time covered the bright red muscles with a tanned color.

And under that skin, Ubel’s meridians collapsed. His Qi dissipated, his dantian blinked out of existence, and all the cultivation kept inside his body dissolved into air. From now on, Ubel was a mortal, again. And this time, he would have no more chance of becoming an immortal.

Gaobun lifted his head. The few drops of tears he shed made the dried blood stick to his face.

He licked the blood at the corner of his mouth.

It tasted bitter.