Wang Jun gave no answer.
“I said, do you understand?”
Seeing Patriarch Wuling take out his dagger and walk back toward Hong Xin, Wang Jun could only close his eyes and speak the words: “I understand.”
The Patriarch paused, then looked up and laughed exultantly. “Heavens above, he sees sense. He finally sees sense.”
“I thought I’d grown callous and merciless,” Wang Jun said, his voice lacking emotion. “I thought I’d rid myself of my weak heart, all in order to succeed and obtain vengeance. But it seems I was looking in the wrong place. It wasn’t my soft heart that was my weakness but my ambition. I wanted to see you all suffer, but because of that, I endangered her. I should have killed the lot of you when I had a chance.”
“All past matters,” Patriarch Wuling said. “As your first order of business, you are to personally head to the Spirit Temple—sneak in, of course—and apologize. You are to accept responsibility for your actions, but you must swear upon your soul that you’ll make things right with them.”
“You aren’t just playing both sides, are you?” Wang Jun asked. “You’re a turncoat, through and through.”
“We do what we can to survive, son,” Patriarch Wuling said. “And trust me, it was this or the death of our family. The South can’t be stopped. Only by joining them can we truly prosper as a family.”
“You’re beyond redemption,” Wang Jun said, stepping back. Despite all the killings, the blackmail, the fabrications, the thought of working for the South to destroy the peaceful North sickened him. He’d done wrong, but this was pure evil.
“We are beyond redemption,” Patriarch Wuling emphasized, stepping up to him until their noses almost touched. He could smell the man’s rancid breath and see the intricate details in the whites of his eyes. “But when you decide you want her dead, that you want to kill her with your own two hands, I’ll be waiting.” He bared his neck. “Though, I doubt you’ll have the courage to take me up on it.”
The Patriarch walked back to Hong Xin, who was still struggling to hold her head up. Her eyes seemed to implore him to kill her, to destroy this madman and be done with it. But all the looks in the world could never convince him to do such a thing. He’d lost her once, and he would never do so again. Hong Xin left the room under Patriarch Wuling’s escort, and soon, elders began to flow into the room to begin their morning sessions. They gave Wang Jun strange glances but didn’t say anything otherwise.
“I have an announcement to make,” Wang Jun said, his voice soft carrying throughout the whole room. The elders stopped their shuffling and looked at him. “From now on, I relinquish my claim to the family leadership in favor of Wang Ling. He has my full support, and I look forward to working with him from this day forward.”
Half the elders frowned in concern, but the other half smiled. Their mutters masked his silent steps as he left the room, defeated.
Wang Jun made no sounds as he approached the black corridor that no one else could see. He entered its bright confines, barely glancing at the countless doors that led to other locations across the continent. He pushed through the main doors at the back, entering a dark room barely decorated but containing a single dark throne. No one sat there, and no one had been there in quite some time. There was a note on a small table to the side, the one Daoist Obscurus often used to lay fruit on.
Wang Jun picked up the black paper note, reading the even blacker writing intently as he muttered with not a sound. He frowned as he read, and glanced to his shadow, which barely stood out among the black stone floor.
To my dearest apprentice,
I’m sorry not to be there in your time of need, but I needed to step out to do some field research. It’s dreadfully important and can’t wait. While I’m gone, you can practice the techniques I taught you and polish them up. When I return, we’ll prepare for carving your core, as it’s only after you transcend that you’ll be able to learn the best of what I have to offer. I know it’s difficult, but you need to press on. Your soft heart might be a weakness, but it’s also the source of your strength. The best of shadows need light to cast.
As a side note, I thought I’d let you know about an ongoing problem you might have missed. It’s about your shadow. He’s been a bad boy, you see, and I thought I’d let you know about that before he does anything too damaging. Shadow doppelgangers are tricky because they aren’t just intelligent—they’re exactly as intelligent as you are. That means they need extra discipline, else they’ll start doing things on their own.
It shouldn’t be too big a problem. You should be able to take care of it before I’m back. Be sure to water my plants for me while I’m gone.
Cheers,
D.O.
Wang Jun first looked to the plants, which were black, dried up, and didn’t require the slightest bit of water. A bit of his master’s humor, he supposed. Then he looked to his shadow, dread filling him. “What have you done?”
“Things,” the shadow replied.
“What kind of things?” Wang Jun said calmly.
“Things you couldn’t do yourself,” the shadow replied. “Things that I deemed needed doing, as instructed.”
“You hid them from me,” Wang Jun accused.
“Yes,” the shadow said. “For your own good. For our own good.”
“Tell me,” Wang Jun said. “Show me.”
The shadow did just that. Not with words, but with one soft clank after another. Item after item dropped out from the shadows. Treasures, spirit stones, you name it. Occasionally, a limb or a body tumbled out. They were familiar people who had gone missing recently.
The belching continued for some time until finally, it stopped. A large pile of things lay in Daoist Obscurus’s audience chamber, and at the top lay some thin blue items. Wang Jun summoned them to his hand. He held them tight and sighed. They were solid blue hairpins, those worn by the Icy Heart Pavilion, taken from their dead bodies. His shadow had killed them, and in turn, Hong Xin had been forced out, only to be captured by the Spirit Temple and his cursed relatives.
He’d told Hong Xin he had nothing to do with the killings, but it seemed her suspicions were well founded. He wasn’t just involved; he was completely responsible. He’d caused her predicament. And now he’d gotten what he deserved for it—a collar to tie him to the brother he hated and the family he loathed. A one-way ticket to hell.
Hong Xin blinked, the last of the haze leaving her eyes and revealing a cell. A comfortable cell, mind you, but a cell nonetheless. A dozen guards stood outside, carefully guarding her, lest she escape. Not that she’d make it very far if she tried. The guards, she knew, weren’t there to stop her from escaping her prison. They were there to stop her from ending her life.
“Just what went wrong?” Hong Xin thought out loud. “What happened?”
A loud sigh filled the room as a woman appeared there. None of the guards seemed to see her, and their eyes shied away from the dazzling red dust that surrounded her. One by one, their eyelids drooped as they fell asleep.
“Sister Yinyue!” Hong Xin said, so happy she could barely contain herself. She moved to hug the woman but found herself restrained by shackles. She could only sit down ruefully.
“You’ve suffered, child,” Hong Yinyue said. “Much has happened during my absence.” She walked up to Hong Xin and stretched out a hand, feeling the spot on her chest where the cultivation-crippling dagger had pierced her Dantian. “I can’t heal this. No one short of an immortal or a god can, for it’s not a wound of the body, nor is it quite a wound of the soul.”
Hong Xin sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. “It’s not so bad. My cultivation wasn’t going to be very useful anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Hong Yinyue said, shaking her head. “If I hadn’t had to leave and monitor what was happening in the South, I would have prevented it.”
“What happened?” Hong Xin said, noting the worry in her voice. She hadn’t seen Hong Yinyue this upset since, well, ever. Hong Yinyue
was a composed fairy maiden, a temptress who moved the hearts of others while maintaining her own stable disposition.
“Nothing you need worry about,” Hong Yinyue said. “We will see if what we fear truly comes to pass. But it’s out of our hands now. What matters now is what he chooses. Now, enough of things we can’t affect.” She looked to the sleeping guards. “The things they have done to you have made it difficult for me to help. I can kill you or save you, but if I save you, you’ll die within days no matter what I do. It would be enough time for you to say goodbye to your loved ones.”
“Just kill me,” Hong Xin said. “End this meaningless life and tell Wang Jun he’s free. Let him kill those who did this to me and be done with his awful family once and for all.”
“That’s an option,” Hong Yinyue said. “The coward’s option.”
“I’m only a burden now,” Hong Xin said. “I can’t help anyone anymore.”
“You’re far from a burden,” Hong Yinyue said, sighing. She walked up beside Hong Xin and placed a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, as a hostage, you’re in a position of great power.”
Hong Xin frowned. “I know you’re trying to reassure me, but isn’t this trying a little too hard?” She shook her head. “I’m a hostage, and a crippled one at that.”
“A crippled hostage they don’t dare to kill,” Hong Yinyue said. “One very close to Wang Jun’s heart, the very reason he’s playing along with the Wang family in their quest to sabotage the North. You have his ear, child. Not many people can claim the same.”
“If I die, he can go ahead and kill them,” Hong Xin said. “I’d like to see them collude with the South then.” She’d also be done with this miserable life. She’d be free to start a new one after drinking Meng Po’s tea.
“Tell me, child,” Hong Yinyue said. “To seduce a man, should a woman take off her top and climb on him, mounting him in the middle of a crowd? Or should she play with his heart and tease his mind? Or should she instead talk with him and get to know him and his family? Once she knows him through and through, a simple touch would be all she needs to make him lose his mind. And if she decided to take off her top and mount him in the middle of a crowd, would he be able to resist? There is a time and a place for all things. Here and now is hardly the best time or place for your death. If you’re going to die, have it mean something.”
Hong Xin closed her eyes as tears fell down her cheeks. “What must I do?”
“The hardest thing you’ve ever done,” Hong Yinyue said softly. “You must teach him to care. For himself, and for others.”
“And then?” Hong Xin said.
“And then you’ll need to ask him to do the hardest thing he’s ever done,” Hong Yinyue said. “I don’t have to tell you what that is.”
Hong Xin opened her eyes. She blinked away the tears and saw that Hong Yinyue, the Red Dust Mistress, had left. Her jailors were awakening from their confused stupor, surprised at the fact that they’d all fallen asleep. They glared at each other, an unspoken agreement forming between them that this embarrassing situation would be best left unmentioned. Amidst their grumbling, she lay back down, closing her eyes once more, hoping she’d never awaken.
At the peak of the world, Gong Lan lay seated beneath the Bodhi Tree. Its long, sinuous branches reached down from the many large stumps that protruded from its main trunk, touching her skin as she breathed in and out, inhaling and exhaling. Everything in the world was connected, and life was but a dream.
Epochs were also like dreams. They continued for as long as those entranced by them allowed them to continue. They puttered on, despite the little bits of corruption that grew in unexpected places, festering as they ate away at wonderful dishes left out to rot.
Like any dream, there must be an awakening. This epoch would soon end, and a new one would begin. Countless souls were leaving this plane for the Yellow River, countless souls released for better places. The World Tree counted each one, carefully blessing them as they left, just as it blessed those who entered. The World Tree was the heart of this epoch, the root of the struggle between good and evil. When everyone awakened, would this tree remain?
Gong Lan opened her eyes and stared ahead. From the mountaintop she could see much farther than most. Down below, fiendish demons clawed away at the barrier protecting the monastery. To the South, a monstrosity was wreaking havoc that even Siddhartha Buddha could never fully heal.
She saw clashing in the mountains to the east. She saw vicious battles in jungles to the west. She saw a flood of ochre soldiers barreling toward large walls, knowing full well that their deaths would provide a solid corpse their comrades could climb on.
The dream was ending. The dreamer was stirring. Only the shadow of a memory would remain in its place.
Ghosts and evil spirits alike evaporated as Huxian trotted through the city, freeing the spirits within from their bondage as promised. They smiled in relief as they broke apart. He hoped that, just before they left, they caught a taste of what they were eating, obtained a modicum of pleasure as they saw their kids play for the last time, or were just a little bit less thirsty from their millionth drink.
Huxian changed his course as the last of the city’s ghosts disappeared. Only one figure remained. He could see the Daoist priest clearly, standing beside a fire that was now glowing brightly against the sun, which had almost set on the horizon.
“You’ve done it,” the priest said as Huxian climbed the steps. “You’ve freed us.” He reached out to Huxian, and his touch seemed almost corporeal. But as soon as the hand made contact, it burst into thousands of motes of light. “Thank you,” the priest said before vanishing.
The sun, of which barely a sliver remained, finally set on the horizon. With its disappearance, the darkness around him seemed ever stronger, and the flame in the temple ever brighter. He’d gained much on this journey, including those wonderful eyes that could let him both see and taste ghosts—they tasted awful, for the record. All that was missing now was the inheritance he’d been promised. He had a hunch it had something to do with the flame in the temple.
He stared at the flame, so golden and resplendent. It was uncomfortably hot, so he trotted down the temple steps to observe it from afar. Any minute now, Huxian muttered, preparing himself from the sudden outflow of light and darkness, which he would use to create his dual initiation mark and a portal home. He salivated just thinking about it. His eyes teared up just watching it. He blinked, and it blinked back. The flame… blinked?
Huxian scrambled backward, claws out and teeth bared at the flame, which now resembled a slit in the darkness. It “blinked” again, and Huxian finally noticed that he was no longer in the city but floating in space. The slit grew larger and larger, and soon he realized what the slit was. It wasn’t a fire, but an eye. And not just any eye. Now that he took a good look, he saw that the eye was part of a massive head with reptilian features. It had layers of sharp teeth, a long muzzle, and a forked tongue. The head was attached to a long body that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
He was standing before the Candle Dragon himself.
Sir Candle Dragon, Huxian stammered, barely containing his fear. Fancy seeing you here.
“Indeed,” the Candle Dragon said. “It’s been positively ages since I’ve deigned to speak to a young pup like yourself.” The dragon’s voice, physically very loud, also had an edge to it. If the dragon willed it, he could kill Huxian with but a single word. Huxian, who was used to having the upper hand in any conversation, found that especially unnerving.
So, I was thinking, Huxian said. Since I passed your test and all, I should get a reward. You know, some essence of light and darkness. The good stuff.
“Test?” the Candle Dragon said in amusement. “What test? You stumbled upon a plane that I had damned for all eternity for their sacrilege to the natural laws. What test? What reward? I should curse you just like I cursed them. Maybe then you’d learn some respect for your elders.”
Huxian gulped. T
his was not going as planned. Okay, time for Plan B: groveling. Oh, esteemed Candle Dragon, Demon Sovereign of Light and Darkness, of dawn and dusk. I had eyes but didn’t see Mount Tai, and I dared disrespect you unknowingly. I had thought you’d left behind a test for us mere juniors, but I accidentally disturbed your good deed. I ask that you punish me.
The Candle Dragon stared at him, unblinking. It snorted, and smoke left its nostrils and encircled Huxian. It looked at him pensively, as though not quite sure what to make of him. “Though it was not designed as a test, let it be such. I will let you choose a boon, though do not choose lightly.”
Two spheres appeared in the darkness to Huxian’s left. Once was a sphere of deep blackness, the other a sphere of light. They coexisted together, complemented each other. This wasn’t just essence of light and darkness. It was the purest form imaginable, and the initiation mark Huxian could generate with it would be unmatched.
“On the one hand, you may choose this boon,” the Candle Dragon continued. “Essence of light and darkness, harvested at the birth of the universe itself. I was born beside it and kept it in case I needed a snack. That time never came.”
The Candle Dragon looked slightly to Huxian’s right. There, a gray portal opened. A force much purer than Huxian had ever experienced oozed out of it. Its presence altered the fabric of reality around the portal, which flickered like it would close at any instant. “Alternatively, you can take my trial. If you do well, you can obtain a Candle Dragon initiation mark, a time-based one, instead of a light and darkness initiation. Light and darkness are only minor elements of space-time. Being initiated with my mark will make you much stronger.”
Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists Page 47