Light in the Darkness

by Patrick Laplante

  What truly stood out, however, was a large tree that stood tall at the back of the plateau. Its gnarled branches spread out in every direction, granting shade to many creatures that gathered beneath it. Despite being far way, she noticed several monks in orange robes meditating beneath the tree. They were accompanied by lions, tigers, deer, and pigeons. All sorts of animals that could not coexist in nature lay down peacefully, as though soaking in the subtle energy that the tree emanated.

  Beside the tree, there was a small lake. Just like on land, fish crowded near the edge of the lake to get closer to the tree. Many predatory creatures, like herons and crocodiles, stood by the edge of the water, but they didn’t bother troubling the ample fish. What amazed Gong Lan more was when a deer got up from under the tree and wandered to the edge of the lake where the crocodiles were gathered. Instead of attacking it viciously, they simply lounged in the sun, allowing the deer to drink its fill before it left and resumed its peaceful session beneath the tree.

  “The tree prohibits violence,” her brother said softly. “This is an inviolable rule, one that transcends nature. All those who bask in the shadow of the bodhi tree will find their sorrows soothed and peace with themselves. Many who frequent the tree cannot bear to part with it and spend the rest of their lives here.”

  They continued their journey through the lush greenery. Wherever they traveled, young and old monks alike smiled and bowed to them. They all wore an orange kasaya, a simple garment consisting of a single long piece of saffron cloth. Everyone’s head was shaved. To Gong Lan’s surprise, she noticed a half dozen women walking by as they carried water. They too had shorn their heads, and several of them had nine burn marks adorning their hairless scalps.

  Soon, they arrived at the main temple. Its white walls reflected off a still moat surrounding it. It was all ornamental, of course. The bridge leading to the temple was a permanent fixture. Several orange fish jumped across the bridge as they traveled; they knew that they were not in danger, for no one would dare to harm a living creature in this harmonious paradise.

  A young acolyte greeted them at the entrance of the temple. “Teacher will meet you soon,” he said knowingly.

  Gong Lan was shocked at the man’s foresight, but Gong Wuling was unperturbed. They followed the acolyte as he led them deeper into the temple. Soon, they arrived in a well-lit hall. There, a thin figure was seated on a cushion, chanting mantras toward a large golden statue. The golden buddha sat cross-legged with his right hand facing outward, his thumb and index finger pressed together in a circle and forming a teaching mudra2.

  The acolyte seated them on cushions behind the meditating man. Gong Lan felt her mind wandering as she sat down. Much of the tension that had accumulated in her body began to dissipate. Her eyelids began to droop, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

  She awakened to the sight of a kindly old man, who was facing them. Like all the other monks, his expression was benevolent and full of compassion.

  “I know why you’ve come, Wuling,” the monk said gently. “Is this your little sister?”

  “Yes, she’s my little sister,” Wuling replied. “She’s… been through some hard times. Although I promised not to spread the Blood World Scripture, she needed help. But things have gotten out of hand…”

  “I see that your solution to everything hasn’t changed,” the monk said sternly. His smile had faded. “I told you before that the path of slaughter will only hurt the user and those around them. But you didn’t listen, and you’ve even involved your sister. Judging by the aura of sin surrounding her, I can see that she’s slaughtered the equivalent of hundreds of men and thousands of beasts. Why on earth would you think this was a good idea?”

  “Those were bad men!” Wuling exclaimed. “She’s been slaying evildoers. Wasn’t it you who told me that slaying those who deserved it was not sin, but merit?”

  “That really depends on a few things,” the monk replied. “It depends on the state of mind of the person accomplishing things. What is their intent? Is their intent to save, or is it their intent to punish? Are they doing it to protect others, or are they doing it for revenge? All these things factor in. The sin of killing an evil man could be greater than the merit of killing him, if done for the wrong reasons.

  “You helped her increase her cultivation and combat prowess, but it did not make her stronger. The Blood World Scripture helped her confront her fears, but she has not resolved them.”

  “Look, she just needs a calming locket, the same kind you made for me way back then,” Wuling implored.

  Gong Lan had never seen her older brother ask for something so nicely in her whole life.

  “What worked for you will not work for her, I’m afraid,” the monk said gravely. “When you quit fighting in the arena, you did it because you were sick of bloodshed. I helped you find a way to be at peace with yourself. I understand that you’ve started a mercenary company. However, aren’t you quite strict on the work you accept? You only protect people. You defend. This is an admirable cause.

  “Your little sister, however, had a very pure soul to begin with. You took her grief, and with that, you’ve turned her into a vicious killer! A single step closer, and she’d become a true devil!” the monk sternly berated Wuling, who was now rather pale.

  “A true devil? What do you mean by that?” Gong Lan shot back. Unknowingly, she had released a suffocating murderous intent.

  Before she could react further, however, the monk had already appeared right in front of her. He smiled as he took a single finger and tapped her on the forehead. “Calm down,” he said pleasantly.

  Her murderous intent instantly dissipated. Now she only felt shame. Why had she reacted so violently to the man? Was there really something wrong with her?

  “Let me explain, my child,” the monk said softly. “Everyone is born with a pure soul, and over time, it gets corrupted by outside influences. Some souls are strong, while others are weak. Those who retain their purity as they age are very kind souls, like you once were. Here, I’ll show you.” The monk held out his hand, and a soft ball of light slowly materialized.

  “Souls are corrupted by sin, which they build up a tolerance to over time. The sins can directly attack the unresisting soul, and a truly kind soul, who is hardly contaminated by anger, greed, envy, sloth, gluttony, pride, or lust, has no resistance to these things whatsoever. Such souls are the bane of these sins, and very effective in overcoming them.

  “However, pure souls have a chance to devilize or fall into depravity if exposed to these things too suddenly. Someone who devilizes is not truly human anymore. They lose their empathy and get lost in their sins. For example, had you continued your current path, your anger at yourself and the world would have consumed you, transforming you into a killing machine with no remorse. If that happened, would you be in any position to help or protect anyone?”

  The white ball of light was now tainted with red specks. They accumulated little by little, until finally, the ball of light mutated and became a heinous mass of black and red.

  Gong Lan shook her head, crying. “No. I guess I couldn’t.” Now that she thought about it, she was a complete and utter joke.

  “That’s right, my child,” the monk said. “You are very well suited to the path of slaughter, but that is because you’re also inherently suited for the path of peace. Would you allow me to show you a kinder way? A way in which you can help your friends without losing yourself?” The monk smiled and held out his hand.

  Gong Lan took it without any hesitation.

  * * *

  1 The number 81 is symbolically used in Chinese literature to indicate something impossible. For example, it was used in Journey to the West in the form of 81 trials that the Monkey King had to help the Buddhist priest face, an impossible task for most.

  2 Mudras are hand gestures depicted in Buddhist artwork. These include hand positions for meditation, teaching, generosity, protection, and greeting.

  Chapter 12
: Lost in Obscurity

  Wang Jun chewed on bitter tea leaves as he waited for news in a tavern. He wasn’t used to such rough accommodations, but it couldn’t be helped. Stonefell was truly a godforsaken place, one where only seasoned adventurers stayed. According to his previous inquiries, it used to be a thriving village. No more.

  Several decades ago, a rare species of spirit beasts had mobilized the entire cultivation world into action. They had banded together and hunted it to extinction, and in the process, the spirit woods and the other creatures it contained had been damaged beyond recovery. Such a story reminded Wang Jun of overfished oceans and lakes and overcultivated fields. Mankind was truly incorrigible in its ways.

  “Another pot of tea?” a young man asked.

  Wang Jun nodded, and the man returned shortly with a freshly brewed pot. The tavern was the only bar in town, the last one having burned down six months ago. His auguries had at last yielded him limited information on her possible position, so he’d sent out his men to investigate. Meanwhile, he continued his own futile attempts to find her.

  For what seemed like the thousandth time, he picked up a fistful of black coins etched with silver runes. He then imbued them with his full soul force and his fate qi. They spun in the air as they collected information that was beyond the grasp of mere mortals, before finally collapsing on the table in a meaningless jumble.

  Despite the lack of content, the message was clear: Wang Jun was not privy to the information he sought. Fate was funny that way. Every man had a story to his name, but seers and diviners were helpless when divining their own fate. To make matters worse, Wang Jun was an anomaly. Information on his fate was very difficult to obtain; he was like a shadow that evaded the scrutiny of the most skilled pair of eyes.

  This didn’t trouble him much. What bothered him was Hong Xin’s fate. A year ago, she was simple and predictable. He could have divined her location with his eyes closed. However, none of these thousand auguries had found any hints of her these past six months. Either she had obtained some fortuitous encounter that shrouded her destiny or fate was playing a cruel joke on him, preventing him from seeing her story out of spite or malice.

  Or has our short involvement completely merged our stories to the point that hers has become indecipherable like mine?

  Such a possibility caused him even greater worry, and it was all the more reason to continue his search. Until he found her, the knot in his heart would to eat away at him little by little. His patience would become increasingly thin.

  He recalled a moment that caused him to shudder, the heart-stopping moment when he’d visited her parents with Hong Ling. Madame Xu had burst into tears, and Xin Er’s father had given him the earful he deserved. Afterward, he’d sought any piece of information that might lead to her discovery. Yet for some unknown reason, information that should be easily accessible just didn’t reach him. It was as though she were a ghost. Fortunately, he knew she was alive. His auguries let him know that much.

  “Xin Er, where have you gone?” he wondered aloud. As soon as he uttered those words, he heard a crashing noise from behind the bar. Something nagged at his mind, and Wang Jun sized the young man up before asking, “Did you work at the original bar?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, I was a bartender there. That is, until it burned down with the owner still in it.”

  Wang Jun directed his piercing gaze at the man, who gulped and continued. “I heard you mention the name Xin Er. Are you perhaps acquainted with Gong Xin?”

  Wang Jun frowned. “I know a Hong Xin. Was this lady you speak of this tall, with long black hair?” He held up his hand. “While she wasn’t so pretty as to cause the downfall of a nation, she was quite charming with a warm demeanor.”

  The man at the bar hesitated. “Some of what you describe matches up, but many women fall under that category. Can you show me anything more precise?”

  Wang Jun nodded and withdrew a jade slip from his bag of holding. He poured some qi into it until a transparent image of Hong Xin floated out from it and began spinning in circles. She was wearing her mauve dress with green vines, as well as the mauve hairclip that she’d taken with her when she ran away from home.

  “Right, that’s her,” the young man said, his face lighting up with recognition. “She worked with us for a while. Unfortunately, the owner seemed to have ulterior motives for her. I kept telling her to quit and leave town, but she stubbornly refused. All she would do was drink away what she saved as though she’d never known a happy day in her life.

  “After I left work that night, the bar caught on fire. One of my friends told me that Gong Xin had escaped the flaming building. However, her eyes were red, and her face was covered in tears. Her robe had been torn in many places. I really can’t help but think that the owner had assaulted her and gotten what he deserved.”

  Wang Jun’s teacup shattered in his hands as he heard the man’s story. He looked at his palm and saw that his fingers were coated in blood, jagged pieces of porcelain protruding from them. Yet he felt more alive now than he had these past six months. He ignored the young bartender’s panicked expression and began pulling out shards of glass bit by bit, as though reveling in the pain they caused him. Finally, once the last piece had been removed, he withdrew a pill from his bag of holding and ate it. The wound on his hand disappeared without a trace.

  “Do you know which direction she left in?” Wang Jun asked in a hoarse voice.

  The young man shivered before answering. “She left through the north of town. She stole a horse from a farmer on the way out, though she left him a hefty payment in silver.” The young bartender was now sweating profusely.

  This didn’t surprise Wang Jun, whose aura was now completely unrestrained. He stood up and flicked a pouch over to the young man. The boy didn’t know it yet, but he wouldn’t have to work for the rest of his life.

  As Wang Jun walked out of the bar, he saw Protector Ren and another Wang family guard approaching him.

  “I’ve found out all we need to know. Let’s move,” Wang Jun said.

  His protectors said nothing, and the trio flew out of the village on flying swords, leaving behind many villagers gasping in awe at the spectacle.

  The villagers greeted Cha Ming as he walked through the merchant district. He entered a familiar store, the grocer’s, where he picked up the provisions he required for their meals. When he arrived at the clerk to pay for the goods he’d gathered, he was waved through with a cheerful smile. He tried to protest and pay anyway—after all, many villagers had left them shards as payment—but then the owner stepped out personally and told him they wouldn’t accept his money.

  This was a testament to the impact he and Li Yin had on the people’s lives. He had treated many diseases, fractures, and vicious cuts. He had also personally performed surgeries, including those used to deliver babies. He had named the surgery a Caesarian section, and although the name had puzzled Li Yin, he couldn’t back out on his offer to allow Cha Ming to name it.

  With Cha Ming’s help, the old doctor had managed to perform many more experiments, as well as hold educational seminars and meetings for the residents. He had spoken on things like hygiene, nutrition, and first-response activities such as bandaging basic wounds and splinting fractures before patients were brought to him.

  Cha Ming’s only regret was that he couldn’t stay for longer. His cultivation was slowly recuperating. As of today, all his organs’ qi pathways had been completely reconnected. In fact, they functioned better than before he had been injured. Currently, he could circulate qi through these pathways to achieve one third of his original cultivation rate. In addition, his useable physical strength had skyrocketed, and he could now utilize nine tenths of his original strength.

  Still, he planned to stay until he made a full recovery. The cultivation world was dangerous, and he saw no reason not to enjoy the pleasant atmosphere while he could. As he returned to the doctor’s house, he noticed a crowd of people surrounding it. Frownin
g, he walked through the crowd, and after putting away the groceries, he proceeded to the doctor’s office.

  Li Yin was busy staring at a badly wounded man who lay on the examination table. Seeing the doctor pondering, Cha Ming went ahead and pressed his hand on the man to observe his condition.

  Three arm fractures, head trauma, arrow wound to the shoulder… That last one made him raise his eyebrows. Fortunately, the man was not beyond saving.

  “What are you thinking?” Cha Ming asked.

  It seemed like a clear-cut case. The doctor shook his head and walked up to the injured man. He pulled back the man’s shirt, revealing his forearm. There, Cha Ming saw a black mark. It was a tattoo that resembled a serpent woven around a sword. The sword was stained in blood.

  “This mark is worn by all members of the Serpentine Sword bandit group,” Li Yin explained. “They are a bunch of vicious killers who kidnap, rape, and pillage. I have nothing but utter contempt for them.” The doctor then looked at Cha Ming. “I refuse to save this man.”

  Cha Ming was conflicted. “Why did you save me when I washed up on the river?” After all, it was difficult to judge a book by its cover.

  “You want the truth?” the doctor asked. “Very well. I saved you because you didn’t have any such markings, and you seemed young and impressionable. Furthermore, it didn’t look like you had very long to live anyway. You wouldn’t be a threat to this peaceful community. This man, however, is an entirely different case.”

  The truth hit Cha Ming like a sack of bricks. He had always been taught that doctors should be benevolent and help everyone. He had often heard tales of pure-hearted doctors who treated allies and enemies alike. Yet this old doctor he admired most refused to do the same.