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A humble pebble follows its path in the same way a mountain does. This is nature. The mountain moves with great vigour, causing tremors and rumblings in its wake, while the pebble rolls and tumbles, barely noticed. This is nature. This is dao. But what would happen if even the tiniest pebble strayed from its predetermined course? The tremors and quakes it would cause, would be greater than those of a mountain on its prescribed path.
Meditations on the Shore of a Lonesome Lake, Book 23: Oxen Taxes in Fuji Prefecture.
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“The question is, what price are you willing to pay?”
The words echoed in Jin’s mind as he stared in shock at the grinning merchant.
The question had nothing to do with taels of silver. Although Jin was largely unversed in the matters of cultivation, he knew at least this much. Anything that touched upon the realm of Immortality, possessed value that couldn’t be expressed in simple currency.
Jin swallowed heavily, acutely aware of the sudden shift in atmosphere.
His eyes darted to the exit behind him. The door remained open, even if, for some reason, Jin couldn’t hear any of the usual sounds of activity coming from the Upper Pit.
In theory, he had nothing to fear. The merchant was an unawakened mortal, unable of even circulating qi. And yet, all of Jin’s instincts screamed at him to abandon any thoughts of trying to run.
Too much had been said already.
One lighthearted breach of taboo led to another, triggering something uncontrollable, like a single pebble that brings about a great avalanche.
Now, the players revealed their cards and it was already too late to leave the table. Unfortunately, up to this moment, Jin had been unaware he was even playing. And he could only guess at the stakes.
But isn’t it what I wished for?
He shot the merchant a deep look. Despite having known the man for nearly as long as he'd been toiling in the mine, Jin suddenly realised that he didn't comprehend him at all. It was sheer madness to attempt anything right under the Sect's nose, and he couldn't fathom what the merchant's motive could be.
The merchant held Jin’s stare without any hints of anxiety. It was as if he was happy to accommodate Jin and willing to give him all the time he needed to decide.
Jin wasn’t naive. To even hear out the merchant’s proposal was no different from rebelling against the Sect. That this wouldn’t be the type of offer one could hear and decide to reject didn’t escape him either. He didn’t know what made his instincts warn him, but regardless of what the merchant was planning, it was obvious that he couldn’t allow Jin to walk away with only a promise to keep his mouth shut.
But to rebel against the Sect...it was like defying fate itself. Jin had been raised on stories of the Sect's power, tales that had been passed down for generations. It was an entity that ruled the world with an iron fist, a force that was both omnipresent and omnipotent.
His time in the mine did nothing to diminish that sense of awe. On the contrary, it only served to etch it more deeply, carving it directly into his flesh and bones.
His qi started to move, but it wasn’t coming unbidden. Jin called on it willingly. He needed its strength. He recited the mysterious words of his cultivation mantra in his mind.
Both the Sect and the Immortal world had built themselves into an unassailable monument in his mind, one that cast a dark shadow over everything else. Reverence and awe made up its building blocks, while terror and brutality formed its unshakeable foundation.
If he wanted to shake that grim edifice erected in his heart, he would need all the strength he could summon.
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Jin stood up from his chair.
His qi churned and poured out of his dantian. Unlike before, it wasn’t racing. It flowed from one meridian to another like an ancient river, gradually spilling over and submerging everything in its path.
“I refuse the fate of a slave.” Jin declared to the grinning merchant. He didn’t shout, but his words were imbued with a gravity that was absent before. The flow of qi in his meridians slowed down to a trickle, but even now more energies poured out of his dantian. Their rising volume formed a powerful pressure bearing on his pathways.
Abruptly, Jin recalled the day he had been taken by the Sect. Time had erased almost everything, but he could still remember the look of joy on his parents’ faces.
“Twenty silver coins! That could buy us an ox!”
The sounds of his cultivation mantra boomed in his mind. He reached for the words whose meaning he had intuited previously.
Pressure. Strike!
He used them like a hammer, swinging them to smash the prison that had formed around his heart.
Strike!
He recalled the days he had spent in the Sect’s camp. The first time he had been forced to the ground by the release of a cultivator's aura. The fate of that one boy who secretly bragged he would become an Immortal. His screams as the instructors ground him bit by bit…
“I choose the Immortal path.”
The qi in his meridians trembled. The pressure that was forming around it suddenly dropped, as the spiritual energies began to coalesce and condense.
Pressure.
The enigmatic words of the mantra echoed through Jin's mind, their mysterious meaning doubling with each repetition. They seemed to double with the words coming out of his mouth. Their meanings resonated with each other, like the sound of hammers striking stone, echoing through the tunnels.
“And I’m willing to do anything to walk it.”
In a sudden burst of clarity, Jin grasped the meaning of another word from his cultivation mantra. There were no hallucinations this time, no trance to lead him down the path of understanding. This time, he had done the work himself.
WALK.
A simple word, perhaps the most rudimentary of the three words he had intuited so far. Even so, Jin understood its gravity.
There is knowing the Path. And there is walking it. It wasn’t something easy at all.
The merchant observed Jin with a calm smile, as if the turmoil raging within his soul was completely invisible to him. He put the empty drinking bowl on the counter, and said,”You say you'll do anything, but do you even have the qualifications?”
Jin’s eyes went wide with shock. This wasn’t the answer he was expecting. The fire burning in his gaze abruptly extinguished, and he asked in an awkward voice, “Maybe… you could extend me credit?”
“Don’t mistake me for a usurer,” the merchant refused flatly. He seemed genuinely offended by the suggestion. “I am an honest businessman, and I don’t form karmic links through chains of debt,” a grin flickered on his lips. “Though, I’ve been known to entertain an odd investment.”
He reached under the counter and pulled out a rolled manuscript, placing it flat on the surface before beckoning Jin closer.
Wariness battling with curiosity, Jin walked up to the counter and took a look.
It was just a random mess of lines and dots.
Disappointment rose up in him. Although he didn’t know what to expect, but after everything that happened, this wasn’t it. It wasn’t even written in the Immortal script, it was just—
The lines started to move.
They writhed and twisted like a nest of snakes. There was still no meaning to the chaos, but something like an image began to emerge. It was similar to how a face could sometimes be seen in a random pattern of wood or the shape of a cloud.
But it wasn’t a face that looked back at Jin from the manuscript. He didn’t what it was. But as the lines moved toward one another, and more meaning materialised with each connection, a sense of dread began to invade him. Whatever they were building up to, it wasn’t something he wanted to see. It wasn’t something he was allowed to see.
Even his qi trembled and tensed. Only a very small strand of qi that swam lackadaisically through his meridian pathways reacted differently.
Excitement radiated from it. The feeling was mingled with a sense of familiarity and something else that Jin had no way of untangling. But one emotion rose above the rest.
“Pretty…” Jin abruptly said in a spellbound voice.
The merchant flinched, revealing a surprised reaction for the first time since Jin had come into his store. Even the iguana, which had been dozing in the corner, opened one eye and gave Jin a curious look before closing it again.
Jin stared at the painting, unable to tear his eyes away. Its lines and perspectives continued to turn and twist like a living thing, drawing him in like quicksand.
Contrary to what he had just said, a deep, primal fear set itself in his mind. Soon, whatever the image was building up to, would be revealed. Tears streamed from his reddened eyes, as if he was looking directly at the sun.
With a sudden move, the merchant snatched up the manuscript and rolled it tightly, just as the shapes were beginning to take form.
Jin didn’t react. He was still locked in a trance, gaping at the now empty countertop. The merchant observed him in silence, weighing his thoughts carefully.
He drummed his fingers impatiently on the scale, watching as it tipped back and forth like a pendulum.
Twelve years he had spent patiently infiltrating the mine. But now, the changes happening were too sudden, too disruptive. As he approached the endgame, unexpected variables appeared out of nowhere, threatening to unravel all his careful planning. If he wanted to eliminate any latent dangers, it was now or never.
But it was also very exciting. He felt like a director of a meticulously crafted play, seeing the actors suddenly improvise their lines and even invite the audience members to come up on the stage. Chaos loomed, but it was also very thrilling in its own way.
He glanced to the iguana, but the lazy lizard didn’t show any reaction. The choice was left to him.
Slowly, the strange image dissipated from Jin's mind. He blinked, and the manuscript disappeared, making him realise he was staring at the empty countertop.
He raised his eyes and discovered the merchant grinning at him in a broad smile.
“I’ve decided we can reach an arrangement.”