The sword held still. One instant it was full of more strength than most fifth ranks could expend in a full fight and the next, nothing. The blade met the immortal’s hand- no finger and all that energy disappeared.

No Tai realized. Not disappeared but devoured.

The man hadn’t dodged the attack nor had he dissipated it. He had merely taken it head-on. His qi has disappeared like a drop of water in an ocean.

Pride.

“You are wrong,” the fifth rank whispered. “All this power and all this ability and yet so simple. You are wrong!”

Insane. He was going insane. No, he wasn’t. This man wouldn’t kill him for this. A man who walked around with mortals wouldn’t dare-

“Calm down kid,” the immortal said.

And Tai did. The world snapped back into its proper place. The shapes returned to everything.

“See Chin, that’s the problem with Daos. This specifically is called a narrowing Dao, a path that forces its cultivator to walk down one way and only wield one perspective. A dao exists to serve the cultivator and to eventually become a part of him. No two daos are exactly the same and no two people are exactly the same. Focusing on a concept or a truth you’ve observed in the universe can be a good starting point, but you should use that truth to build yourself. Not use yourself to prove that truth? Got it?”

“No,” the mortal replied.

“See Chin, that’s the problem with Daos. This specifically is called-”

“Alright, alright,” the old man grumbled. “I heard ya.”

Tai Lui listened.

“It's sort of like domesticating a plant or an animal. You should gather the food and only replant the seeds that hold the trait you desire the most. A dao must be learned and it must also be made. A dao that takes over the cultivator makes them less able to grow and change.”

“But what’s wrong with pride?” Tai spoke. “Shouldn’t we who break the heavens and fight for our presence be proud? Shouldn’t we who bring down mountains and strive for eternity bend the world to our wants? You are strange, but the world works as it does and the strong will always rule the weak. Pride isn’t the byproduct of my power but the reason I searched for it in the first place. Power serves pride. Strength serves pride. Pride is power recognized and it is the thing that makes people move to serve you. Why shouldn’t I be proud?”

The immortal turned to him.

“You can be,” he replied. “But look what happened here, kid. Your dao consumed you and were I not a strange fellow, you would have died a thousand times over, and were you not consumed by your pride you would have killed the boy with only one swing of your blade.”

The immortal called him a kid and treated him like he was nothing more than a child. He was five hundred years old. He had seen the five sects and had even left the region a few times to see even beyond there. He was old and yet in front of this man he had barely left the womb.

“The world isn’t so simple kid. Just because it worked the way you believed it should up to now, doesn’t mean you’ve observed a fundamental truth, merely a common occurrence. Pride is not a law but a trait. There are beings stronger than me who are also kinder than me. And there are beings weaker than me but still all the more prideful.”

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Something clicked within Tai’s mind. A truth had been spoken and he had felt it.

“I see. My apologies.”

His soul fluttered and mixed, and then it calmed down.

“Now, it’s my turn” the immortal spoke. He picked up the broken blade that Tai Lui had thrown down.

“Third and final lesson Chin, technique. Techniques, much like daos, need to be held and shaped to fit one’s strengths and abilities. They were made for one purpose in the beginning and a lot of them were made with only one person in mind, most of them anyway.”

The man twirled the broken blade, more like a child with a stick rather than a cultivator.

“Most Sacred Techniques that are passed down in the sects or clans were originally made for one person but as the person grows and develops, so does the technique. Then those that come after them tread the very path they made to grow in power.”

The sword hummed.

“It’s a good way to grow stronger, but there’s a problem there. Do you know what it is, Chin?”

“No.”

“Guess.”

The mortal let out an annoyed sigh.

“Is it the same problem as the dao?” The old man guessed.

“Close but no cigar,” the immortal replied.

“What’s a cigar-”

“See,” the immortal interrupted. “Techniques, like daos, are a path to power in the physical sense. Daos give your soul strength and laws give your body presence, but techniques are where the two marry. They are an expression, a release of both of these things and more. They are the materialization of your impact and the legacy of your being. People spend countless decades, centuries, and millennia carving out these techniques from nothing. They are the understanding of your laws, the expression of your dao. They are your memoir and your tombstones and the strongest techniques will persist long after you leave the realm. It’s why so many old masters leave their legacies lying around, just in case they pass away they can leave a mark on the world declaring their presence.”

Then he cut.

“Pride, presence, the urge to not be forgotten, and the need to let your fellow man know that you were here, that you existed. It’s another form of immortality in its own way.”

Tai did not move and even if he tried to dodge, the cut would have reached before he could move muscle. A small gash appeared on his left cheek. Strangely enough, the cut had only cut his flesh and not the mask he was wearing, which had remained undamaged this whole fight.

“It's an important thing, pride. Anything worth doing is worth taking pride in. But like all things, it’s best in moderation.”

Then his blade started to move in a familiar pattern.

“The Flowering Sword technique, for example. You look at it and say what a graceful beautiful technique. Power through elegance and efficiencies, beauty in technique and dominance, no?”

Tai nodded.

“But the maker of the technique didn’t care for that at all. You let your pride, your understanding of the world, and inner desire blind you.”

The blade moved faster. Each stroke weaving with the others. Tai Lui’s senses stretched but he couldn’t feel an ounce of qi from the attack.

“This technique for example. It isn’t about beauty or strength or ability. It’s about efficiency. It was created by a weak man with very little qi reserves trying his best to conserve his energy.”

A simple lotus form shone, holding at the immortal’s blade. Clearly, it was qi but still, Tai Lui could sense nothing.

“It’s simple, true, contained. The flower is not a denotation of deliberate beauty or greatness but rather the beauty of efficiency. The Flower is not beautiful for beauty’s sake but for its own survival. It’s bright and bold so the bees and birds can know it. It smells fragrant so that the insects will come to it. It is beautiful to survive and that is the core of this technique.”

The folds aligned. The sword qi weaved and became one. It held together like an ethereal lotus, pure and beautiful, and not a single drop of qi was left to waste.

“The Flower is weak and frail and dead within the season. So it has to be beautiful, it has to bloom to survive. There is no pride within this technique, only desperation and need. It blooms like the flower because the warrior had no qi to waste. It cuts a thousand times in one because the warrior could not cut a thousand times.”

Then the cut left the blade and Tai Lui watched in awe as it came to him. He raised his blade to meet it. He held it up in defense, and yet it was not enough.

His sword shattered once more and a thousand cuts scarred his hand. The immortal had held back, but the attack had cut something more than his skin.

His pride, his dao, his very being had fallen into question.

“Well that’s enough for today,” the immortal spoke tossing the sword over to Cai Xuin and turning around.

“That’s a warning kid, take it to heart okay?”

Then he and everyone else walked away.