There's a voice in his head.
Zhou Cheng has heard of these things. Souls can persist after death, and the greatest and most likely to do so are Cultivators who have created their Nascent Soul. But even the spirit of a mere Mortal can become a Ghost. The reasons for doing so are esoteric and beyond him, but he knows that they exist.
He doesn't, however, know what he is supposed to do.
"Are you done gawking, boy?" the voice sneers, cold edged and glinting in his mind.
No. He's really not. How is he supposed to respond to this? Does he just think and then…? Or does he think at the voice?
"Like that," the voice says primly. "Now. I believe introductions are in order?"
This humble servant is Zhou Cheng, he thinks and tries to make it sound… calm? He's not sure how to make it sound calm. But he tries.
The voice huffs quietly. "That's better. I… am Tang Bingwen, Rogue Cultivator, Master of the Luminous Reflection Arts." It speaks with an imperious air, and Zhou Cheng cannot help but feel it expects to be recognised.
Which is not to say that he doesn't recognise the name, but perhaps not for the reason Tang Bingwen expects. I have a letter for you.
He's not sure disembodied voices can do a double take, but he gets the impression that's what's happened. "Is that really what you're going to focus on here?"
No, but it is what leapt into his mind.
"Is… are you alright, Zhou Cheng?"
He glances over at Kong Meiling, who is giving him the most concerned look she's ever given him in recent memory. "I… I'm fine. Just… communicating."
That doesn't seem to reassure her in the slightest, and he can understand that. She at least seems to trust that he knows what he's doing.
That, admittedly, he has more trouble understanding.
"Well, Zhou Cheng? Who sent you?"
Uh-Elder Chu? He's not sure if he can communicate in more than words, but he tries to project the image of her, the scent of ink and paper.
He's not expecting the jolt of incandescent rage and for a brief moment, he wonders whether this was a trap. Was he sent here to die? Would Elder Chu truly sink so low?
… For what purpose would she even need to?
"I think," Tang Bingwen's voice declares coldly, "That we should speak in a more appropriate method."
That's all the warning Zhou Cheng has before the world spins.
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It feels like a dream. He can't really tell what his surroundings are, and he has the inscrutable sense that it doesn't matter. Whether there are walls, a floor - what they're made of. None of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and that there is someone also here.
What he knows, although he cannot claim to know why, is that it is Tang Bingwen.
He's old, that much is clear. He seems of a similar state to Elder Chu, dressed in plain but fine robes and with pure white hair that falls down like sleet rain. His face is lined with wrinkles, and his mouth is set in a hard, unimpressed line. He gives off the air of a dignified, and powerful cultivator.
He cannot smell Tang Bingwen, however, and that is… disconcerting. At least, until he realises that, and then somehow, it feels like something has just changed, because now he can.
Tang Bingwen smells like… he smells clean. In an almost sterilised kind of way. He has a scent of hot coals and sand alongside that, and something that he can't place. His eyes are oddly mirrored, such that when Zhou Cheng looks into them, he can see himself.
He looks… different. A little more sallow, a little more hardened. The past three years do not seem to have been kind to him. But he has no time to dwell on it.
Tang Bingwen strokes his beard, a long, smooth white thing. Well groomed, and almost supernaturally shiny. "Chu Cangwen sends you, then?" he declares coldly, studying him with a disturbingly intense stare. "Of course she did. Come to spy on me then have you?"
Zhou Cheng shakes his head. "No. I was to deliver the letter - and if necessary, ascertain what happened to you."
He narrows his eyes. There is a power in him that Zhou Cheng can feel - but it is not one he finds himself… fearing. He holds himself with the confidence and arrogance of someone like Elder Chu but he is, undeniably, weaker. He cannot be much more powerful than Zhou Cheng, if that.
Of course, Zhou Cheng realises, unable to stop his eyes from widening. He's a Nascent Soul.
He is used to being powerful, but right now, Tang Bingwen is nothing more than an echo of what he used to be. An ember that could be stoked into a flame again. He holds himself with the confidence of an Elder because he once had the power of one - but right now, he has nothing.
Zhou Cheng has no reason to cower before him.
Tang Bingwen narrows his mirrored eyes, and he can swear he feels the gaze scouring over him. "... Hmph. Honest, aren't you?" he remarks, and somehow, it sounds like an insult. "Very well. You've ascertained what happened to me. You may leave the letter and be gone from here."
It would be easy enough to accept that answer and leave. But he has already sworn to himself not to leave without trying to help. "... No."
"No?" the man echoes, eyes flaring with a terrible light, "You would dare-"
"I would dare," Zhou Cheng continues, meeting the man's gaze with his own. "I have completed my task for Elder Chu. Everything from that point is personal."
There is a tense silence that befalls them, even in this strange, liminal place, until finally, Tang Bingwen scoffs. His display is impressive, but Zhou Cheng can tell he doesn't have the power to back it up.
This doesn't mean he isn't a threat.
"You cannot," Tang Bingwen declares coldly, "You lack the knowledge to even comprehend what has happened here."
Does he? Perhaps. "What I comprehend is that you have done this, using that crystal. I'm sure such an act would be considered most foul. I'm sure the Righteous thing to do… would be to punish such a criminal."
Tang Bingwen stiffens.
It's a dangerous line. Tang Bingwen is the one who brought him here, so he cannot underestimate what power he might have. But if it were as simple as simply possessing Zhou Cheng or something of that nature, then he would've done so already, and if Tang Bingwen is nothing more than a soul - so drastically weakened - then it stands to reason that he might need to return to a human form to regain his power.
And if he needs to return to human form, he almost definitely needs hands.
"You would threaten me?" he says coldly, and there is the interminable sense of him looming.
Zhou Cheng holds his nerve. "I would warn you. If we leave and report to Elder Chu, she will no doubt send someone. I came to deliver a letter. What will the next do?" He is banking on several assumptions here, he is well aware.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He would've assumed that Tang Bingwen and Elder Chu were… if not friends, then allies. But his reaction had been anger. He did not at all seem to trust or even like Elder Chu - if that relationship is reciprocal (which does raise several questions such as why Elder Chu is still corresponding with him), then it stands to reason that she is unlikely to send aid and In his current state, he was clearly vulnerable and weak.
If they were rivals… then the next person to come might seek to take whatever they can and leave. The crystal is undeniably powerful. Elder Chu would surely reward them for returning with it. And if he trusted that she would then use it to restore Greenwater Oasis - or at least try - then he might've done so. But he doesn't. Not anymore.
He doesn't trust Tang Bingwen to do such a thing either, but he has something useful here. He has leverage. It may be a gamble, but he's willing to stake his life on the bet that Tang Bingwen does not want the crystal to fall into Elder Chu's hands.
Tang Bingwen does not respond to his words at first. He merely stares coldly, furiously. A few tense minutes pass in the quiet, but finally he responds with a quiet voice. "How… forthright of you."
He really wishes he would stop saying things like that as an insult. "If anyone can reverse what has happened here, it is likely you - and if the disaster is reversed, you will be… free."
"..." His strange, mirrored eyes narrow, the intensity of his gaze seemingly doubling. Finally, he let out a quiet scoff. "And you expect me to share my secrets with you then?"
It'd be helpful. "I would hope that you can help us understand what happened and how to resolve it."
For a moment, he expects him to demand something from Zhou Cheng - another task, another favour. Everyone with a modicum of power seems allergic to doing the right thing, why should he be different? But by some miracle, it was not to be. "Very well then, Zhou Cheng. I will educate you on what you are dealing with - so long as you swear not to share what you learn with 'Elder Chu' and then to free me from this prison."
Zhou Cheng blinks. Was he… actually doing the right thing? "Just like that?" That stipulation seems a little out of place. It's not as though Tang Bingwen has any way to enforce that… or perhaps he does.
"You may not be aware of where we are," Tang Bingwen declares with a dismissive air, "So I shall illuminate you. We are not 'talking'. Our souls are resonating and communicating."
… He probably could've guessed that, actually.
"It makes it considerably simple to get the measure of someone - a brat like you is a hundred years too early to even try to deceive me in such a place."
He frowns a little harder. "I wasn't."
Tang Bingwen just rolls his eyes. It's a strange thing to witness, given Zhou Cheng cannot really make out his pupils. If he has them. "Obviously. If you had tried to lie to me, we would be having a very different conversation. But you are… an honest person, Zhou Cheng. So I will trust in your sense of honour. Do we have an accord?"
A little part of Zhou Cheng is wary that Tang Bingwen will reveal something truly dark and terrible, and that he will be burdened with his promise not to reveal it… but then, he only asked him to swear not to reveal it to Elder Chu.
If Tang Bingwen did something truly heinous, then Zhou Cheng can just let someone else know… and honestly, Tang Bingwen is probably aware of that. That he hasn't forced him to swear to complete secrecy suggests he just doesn't want Elder Chu finding out.
Rivals. They're definitely rivals of some kind. "I swear it."
Tang Bingwen studies him for a moment longer, and then nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now brace yourself, boy. Whilst I could explain what happened, I have no patience for how long it will take to drive the concepts into your skull. It will be easier to show you."
Before he can voice a word of complaint or refusal, it's already too late. For the second time in what feels like no time at all, Zhou Cheng feels everything spin.
He decides he rather hates the sensation.
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Images and feelings flash by him. Frustration. Confusion. Determination above all.
"Here," that insufferable bastard said, "A helping hand. One of Master's early works. He called it the Umbral Prism. I'm sure figuring it out is no trouble for someone like you, right, Tang Bingwen?" He had that infuriating smirk on his face, single eye mocking him with its insincere light.
Years of work. Years of studying. That bastard couldn't be trusted, but he would not be defeated by this! He would unlock its secrets! He will break through and ascend!
He would show her - she was wrong! The Sect was wrong! He, Tang Bingwen, would become an Immortal and prove himself worthy of being the Grandmaster!
Formations. Theories. Answers.
Of course! That arrogant bastard tried to trick him! 'Umbral Prism' - bah! Years spent chasing knowledge of the Shadow Arts, but it was never about Shadows at all! Meili Tianzhen's Dao was not originally Shadows - it was Reflection. The Umbral Prism did not control Shadows - it controlled Reflections!
A way to study the Soul - to see it and know it. And if he could use it to refract, reflect his own soul… then he could gain the understanding of himself required to pass the Tribulation!
The moment of triumph. Knowledge bleeds into his mind. Equations, Qi. The manipulations he needs to make.
With this, his ascendance is assured! With this, he will become a vaunted Immortal!
He feels the power building. He feels it twisting. His soul splays out in shimmering rays, an aurora that spreads along the winds.
He reaches for Heaven.
H̸ę͝aveņ r̡e͠ach̡̡͡e҉s̷ ̡͘b́͘a̴c͢k̶.̴̡
The Prism flashes. Light reflects. Refracts.
And everything goes still.
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Zhou Cheng feels the ground collide with his rear, a faint jolt going through him before Kong Meiling is on top of him within moments.
"Are you alright? What happened?"
He waves her off, grimacing a little as his head throbs. That was… that was a lot to take in. In more ways than one.
Years of experiments, their meanings, their results - the knowledge sits uneasily in his mind. It's not his memories, but Tang Bingwen gave them to him somehow. He understands a great deal in this moment, some of which he would rather not.
To think he would go so far for power…
Just having those experiences in his mind made him feel disgusted. Zhou Cheng could understand the drive for power, the climb. It was what drove all cultivators, after all. But using one of the Immortal of Shadows own artifacts?
He holds his hand out, and Kong Meiling takes it without a word, hauling him to his feet with the same concerned expression on her face.
"What have you learned, then?"
He grimaces. "Enough to decide on a course of action. Tang Bingwen was trying to become an Immortal, by using the artifact. He made a mistake."
At that, she only purses her lips, glancing over to Tian Mingfei's still unconscious form. "Then… how do you intend on reversing his mistake?"
He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. It might be possible. It might. Tang Bingwen did not make it clear whether it was a sure thing or not, and Zhou Cheng suspects that was deliberate.
Tang Bingwen had been able to grasp the nature of Zhou Cheng's soul - but that was not a one way affair. To touch something, you must in turn be touched. Zhou Cheng's understanding of what he had touched was undeniably limited compared to someone like Tang Bingwen, and he has little doubt that the cultivator had been able to project an image of sorts.
So what he already knew told him he could not fully trust what he had sensed. Instead, he would trust what he hadn't sensed. What Tang Bingwen had not thought to fake, or imply. What was so little beneath his notice and concern that he hadn't even considered it.
I want to save the villagers - but can they even be saved?
It might be possible to save the Oasis. If it were possible, then the only person who could do it would be Tang Bingwen. But would someone like him, who had not even considered the idea of even pretending to care about their lives do it? He had gifted him with knowledge of a ritual, a formation that could be set up, but it relied on Tang Bingwen as the focal point. If he believed Tang Bingwen, then it would restore the Oasis. If he didn't... then he didn't know what it would do.
And he isn't sure if he's willing to bet on it. He cannot trust Tang Bingwen - his contempt for his honour and honesty had been literally palpable. There was absolutely no way he could trust anything he had been shown at all. So he would simply trust in his own instincts.
"Kong Meiling," he begins quietly, "May I borrow a fan?"
She gives him a questioning look, but hands him one anyway. It's one of her less fancy ones. Probably concerned he'll break it. It's not an unfair assumption. He snaps it open and slowly exhales, infusing his breath with his Qi and allowing it to coat the fan.
With a swift strike, he removes Tang Bingwen's hands, catching the glass appendages before they hit the ground. Then with another he removes Tang Bingwen's head, and this he does not bother to collect. A third strike sunders him from shoulder to hip, and then again just for good measure.
The glass glows, and that oddly sterile scent whips up. "You…!" Tang Bingwen shrieks, his very soul manifesting from his remains - a weak, and ephemeral ghost. "How dare you betray me so?!"
"I did exactly as promised," Zhou Cheng counters, stepping back defensively, "I freed you from your prison."
The Ghost of Tang Bingwen lets out one final, chilling shriek of fury and lunges at him with claws of light. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS YOU-"
A fan snaps open, sending a torrent of glittering flecks of ice through the Ghost. The already weakened soul all but disintegrates under the attack, dissolving into wisps of spectral energy before dissipating into nothing at all.
"I think," Kong Meiling declares with an extremely put-upon voice, "that the next time you decide to do something like that, you shall give me a word of warning."
He grimaces. "I'll try to-"
"No. No try. Shall." She gives him a look that would make trees wither and fail to produce fruit.
"... Right. I apologise. I'll warn you next time."
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Meanwhile, in the quiet depths of an honest soul, a shard of light glimmered dimly, roiling with a mix of grudging admiration and frustrated annoyance. Unbeknownst to its unwitting host, it nestled deeper in the darker recesses and made itself a home of sorts.
Losing his body was a setback, but that was fine. He was patient. He could wait. One year, ten years, a hundred - however long it took.
That old monster was right - there truly is no limit to what can hide in the shadows of a soul.