The stale air of the cave started cycling through small holes as a formation was activated to begin the process. Inside the cave was a medium-sized open space that contained a sleeping mat and torches that were held inside ornate jade stands in each corner. Complex emotions stirred inside Xing Zheng’s mind as memories that he hadn’t thought of in over a century washed over him. Energy flowed out from his body to activate the air cycling formations that lined the walls of the cave and he began reflecting on those times.
Slowly the grogginess of sleep left his mind and potent mental energy brought the memories into clear focus. Shortly after the martial tournament had ended as predicted he was determined to be useless to the clan in any of the administrative or court positions that needed to be filled. The fated duel with his brother had determined his fate within the clan as surely as the sun rose in the sky.
True he was no brute, as a noble he could acquit himself in a respectable fashion as befit a son of Xing and had reasonable understandings of business, court etiquette, the various important nobles the emperor had appointed, and pretty much anything else expected of him. However, adequate was not what was expected of a scion of Xing, they had to excel and he had simply only excelled that way in one area. It seemed that he was truly destined to only walk a martial path, however, he could no longer do so in service to the empire due to clan law.
In light of these circumstances, the clan had decided that he would “Preserve the noble spirit of the Royal lineage by seeking the Dao of immortality”. An incredibly polite way of saying he would be sent off to a sect in some backwater territory, secluded away with the hope that his mere existence would slowly fade from all memory. Compared to the fate of those poor nobles who died at the hands of their siblings during rivalries, being able to live out your days peacefully in a sect was from some perspectives a great fortune.
However, Xing Zheng was a proud son of Xing in his heart, and throughout his entire upbringing, that pride had been ingrained into his very being. He was taught that he was a favored son of the heavens, destined to rule. How could he accept such a mundane and peaceful life? At the time he felt bitter and angry at the heavens for stealing his fate away. At some point, Xing Zheng had even pleaded with Xing Hai through a letter calling on their kinship and bonds to ask for a low seat in the military where he could prove his merits and escape such a fate.
Although it would be against the clan laws, surely his brother could use the title of a prince to petition for leeway on his behalf. However, a reply to his plea had never come and so Xing Zheng had resolved to spend his days cultivating within the Azure Rain Sword Sect. Surely it was someone's idea of a sick joke to send him to a place where the rain never ended.
It was not that the Xing family did not practice cultivation, or that indeed normal citizens of the empire did not cultivate for that matter. However, there was a distinction between those who claimed the title of cultivator and those who merely cultivated in their spare time. Those who claimed the title were focused on cultivation to the extreme and dedicated their lives to reaching immortality. Often they would go into secluded cultivation for years or even decades with little care for anything but breaking through to the next realm.
With such a focus on cultivating immortality practitioners usually avoided the affairs of non-cultivators entirely and many large cultivation sects even imposed limitations on how much their disciples could impact the world of mortals. As a result of this, however, it had become common for noble families to send their wayward and dispensable descendants to cultivation sects to “devote their lives to seeking the eternal Dao”. The pursuit of immortality was seen as a noble one so this brought no shame on their families while getting rid of problem children that may scheme against their siblings or even parents.
For the most part, the average person truly did not have the temperament and patience to reach a high level of cultivation as it required long hours of practicing techniques and contemplating meditating. Many of those sent to the sects would spend most of their lives as lower-level outer sect members. Traditionally sects were divided between the outer sect and inner sect with different levels of disciples in each. Often the inner sect was showered with resources and praise as they were the hopefuls that would one day reach a high cultivation realm and become the elders that trained the next generation.
This left the outer sect disciples, those that had been accepted in bulk after passing the bare minimum requirements, to fend for themselves and scrape together what resources they could find. For most sects, the outer sect disciples far outnumbered the inner sect and they would normally be tasked with fulfilling many of the menial tasks within the sect such as cooking, cleaning, and the such. With this, it was of no consequence for them to have large numbers of noble sons and daughters peacefully living out their lives as outer sect members.
Even if the wayward scion happened to achieve high-level cultivation they would simply serve the clan interests by bringing higher honor to their family. In the worst-case scenario since cultivation sects frequently refused to interact with the secular world, the mortals could simply use them as a deterrent by mentioning that their clan had an immortal that would seek retribution for them. As such it was seen as nothing but a boon to have at least a few youths sent to the sects per year.
Even better in the darkest days of the clan, filial piety would tug at their hearts to make them effectively a last resort safety net against clan annihilation. In this way, it became common practice for noble clans to view their descendants sent off into the sects as akin to someone who died and had brought great honor to the clan. A feeling that had pervaded the Xing clansmen that had seen him off from the palace.
Never a downpour nor a light drizzle within the sect, it was always a constant dreary rainfall that threatened to slowly dissolve away everything including Xing Zheng’s sanity. The rain was constant, it made things miserable, and nowhere could it be escaped. Within the countless eons of time, all things would dissolve under its constant assault; nothing would be left.
Amid the rain wispy dark clouds pooled around the towering mountains that formed a circular barrier encasing the sect grounds proper. At the gate to the sect, a large square section was cut out with enormous doors that towered high into the clouds that obscured the mountain peaks from up close. As the gates opened and he was let in for the first time it had truly been a breathtaking sight.
Cliffs lined the various mountains in steps that led up into the clouds as rain fell everywhere forming shallow rivers that seemed to streak and flow in mesmerizing patterns amid the various cliff edges. Inside the perimeter of mountains amid a basin at the center of the ring stood taller mountains surrounded by deep rivers and lakes that were bordered by dense forests. Lavish pavilion roofs peaked through the canopy of those forests and simple buildings adorned with various runes and formations lined the cliffs that towered above ascending upward in large steps towards the peaks.
For just a moment Xing Zheng was in awe at the sheer scope of the sect, as if he had stepped into an entirely different world. Then the sound of rain came back to his focus. It was as all-encompassing as the towering mountains or beautiful scenery.
If only this were like the stories from legend and the sight had triggered some euphoric sense of enlightenment in him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck and after being led to a set of small one-room huts that lined the edge of one of the lower cliffs near the sect gate Xing Zheng found himself being immersed in the sect's culture. Outer sect disciples could only really take on profitable tasks after entering the first grade as those in the lower realm had bodies that were too weak and they lacked the ability to control their mental energy to activate arrays, formations, and talismans.
Surely they could take on menial tasks that earned small amounts of merit points, saving up over time to hopefully afford some amount of treasures or resources from the outer sect hall. However, this would take months if not years and there was no guarantee that one could advance from such a low stage using cultivation pills. For treasures, they would simply be useless as they couldn’t be used without the ability to manipulate mental energy.
With Xing Zheng at the peak of the third-grade realm, he quickly decided that he would focus primarily on improving his martial arts. Meals were provided in the outer sect hall that was located at the base of the mountains that bordered the sect gate down a gently sloping ramp. This hall was right outside of the spirit forest that housed many of the herbs and spirit beasts that the elders allowed to live in the forest to enrich the natural Qi of the sect and increase cultivation speeds.
At first, he had advanced rapidly, needing only a week to get used to the Azure Rain Sword style that had been outlined in the scroll which was given to all sect disciples. Although most of the core techniques of the style required the manipulation of mental energy the scroll contained basic sword forms that emphasized the flowing nature of water. This seemed to come naturally to Xing Zheng as if he was always meant to practice a water-based sword style.
From the way the forms allowed one to give way in the bind while flowing forward to counterattack to the precision of raining light wrist attacks at the enemy, it all seemed easy for him to grasp. Within the first month, he broke through to the second-grade realm earning praise from the senior outer sect disciples that oversaw the outer sect hall. Many of his peers attended lectures by the elders and senior disciples however, Xing Zheng only attended the mandatory ones and dedicated himself to mastering the sword style.
Progress slowed however, by the end of the year he felt as though his body had acclimated to the increase in precision, speed, and mental processing provided by the mental energy that was now flowing in his body. Five more years seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye and Xing Zheng’s irritation had grown with each moment. During this time many of the outer sect disciples had passed him and it seemed that no amount of hard work could push him over the edge into the first-grade realm.
Four years later he had found himself standing at the edge of the cliff overlooking the basin at the center of the sect. Although this was one of the lower vantages on the outer mountains the drop into the basin below would still be lethal. There he simply looked into the sky, his mind seemingly lost in the endless rain. All things would disappear and wear into nothingness and only the rain would be left.
From within that misery and the feeling of losing oneself to the rain Xing Zheng had found inspiration. Like the rain, he would wash away all the impurities of the bitterness of his past. When all this shame had cleansed him he would be like the rain. For how could the rain weather away itself?
Along the grand Dao multitudes of time had passed and would pass. Xing Zheng simply needed to become like the rain and weather all away until eventually only the rain, only he would remain. In the blink of an eye, three days had passed, and long hours of contemplating this revelation had finally borne fruit. He had finally done it, broken through to the first-grade realm!
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Stumbling into the outer sect hall, Xing Zheng received stern looks from the older disciples that oversaw the building. Many stern voices rolled over his mind; however, he was far too exhausted and weak after not eating or sleeping for three days to care. It took a whole week for him to recover and the harsh reprimands of the head medical disciple in the hall echoed in his ear almost as much as the rain.
After recovering he simply bowed low to the senior disciple, giving sincere thanks for the lessons, promising to keep a better mind of the limits his cultivation allowed for secluded meditation. Seemingly happy with this response Xing Zheng was let go from the medical wing of the outer sect wall and went to the technique wing to report his progress and see if any new parts of the Azure Rain Sword Style were now open to him. Upon arrival, the custodial disciples that ran the technique wing were quick to let him know what the next step of his cultivation would entail.
After breaking through he was finally allowed to start practicing the core techniques of the sect and the lead disciple of the technique wing within the outer sect hall gifted him a scroll detailing the technique. Although the technique was hard to cultivate at this stage the foundation for it could still be made starting in the first-grade realm. Under the Guidance of the “rain reflecting 10,000 visions” mental technique, he began sitting in the rain for days calming himself, only taking time to sleep and eat. Counting the raindrops as they fell on his skin, continuously strained his limited mental energy to separate and feel each raindrop’s impact.
At first, it was very few, only 10-20 raindrops could be distinguished every hour. He could feel many raindrops pouring down on him but the mental exercise called for focusing and only counting the impacts he could separate and observe as distinct events. It took two full years to double the number of raindrops he could perceive in an hour to 40. During the second year, the amount increased again to 60. After the third year, he could perceive 80.
At every single moment, the image of the basin and the inner sect blazed in Xing Zheng’s mind. He sat at the edge of the cliff so that he would never forget his goal. At that moment he remembered sitting with Xing Hai and dreaming of the heights of martial arts in the outside world.
Immortality was so elusive yet all martial artists sought it! If Xing Zheng was denied his chance to serve the empire then he would carve his own path to immortality. All of that would start with this technique.
Finally, after five years he could perceive 100 raindrops in an hour of meditation, at this point many fellow disciples recommended accompanying techniques that would be easier to progress with his strengthened mental energy and allow him to breakthrough much faster. After 100 raindrops in an hour, the ‘Rain Reflecting 10,000 Visions’ technique became much harder to progress so many recommended only cultivating it during free time. Most felt that unfamiliar attainment was enough to strengthen one's mental energy to practice more practical martial sect techniques. Thus many of his outer sect peers chose to move on to cultivating techniques that would raise their immediate strength thereby allowing them to take on more sect missions to earn cultivation rewards through merit.
Xing Zheng, however, had persisted, stubbornly claiming a scion of Xing would not abandon a path once started. A desire burned in his eyes, one to set a path that would guide him to the peak and beyond. Each day he would wake up, eat and then go to the same spot on the cliff edge he had always meditated on. To progress further Xing Zheng needed to decrease the amount of time needed to sense 100 raindrop impacts from one hour to one second, only then would he reach the familiar realm of attainment and truly start to comprehend the technique.
Days turned into weeks as the rain seemed to blur all of Xing Zheng’s life together. Soon months started passing by as he devoted himself to nothing but the pursuit of the rain reflecting 10,000 visions technique. One day he noticed that a year had passed, but he paid this no mind.
The next three years passed, and disciples he had known had been on missions adventuring in the outside world. Meanwhile, Xing Zheng stayed the course cultivating his technique meticulously. After another five years had passed he was brought news of a disciple he had been quite close to, it was the man who had welcomed him to the sect. Although at the time Xing Zheng had not paid much mind to the man he ended up being one of the few people who cared little for the family Xing Zheng had come from.
With this, a friendship developed and they would often converse over a shared interest in the fine intricacies of expensive wines and calligraphy pieces. The news was brought that he had died exploring the ruin of a long-forgotten sect that fell to ruin. Xing Zheng was shaken, however, he did not allow his Dao heart to be swayed and continued to cultivate the technique. After ten years the disciples stopped bringing news to him, perhaps all of his friends had died or forgotten he existed.
At this time Xing Zheng felt the rains had finally won, washing him away into the stream of time to be forever obscured and forgotten. Finally, it passed that he had spent 15 years sharpening his basic sword skills and cultivating the mental exercise.
During these arduous 15 years of cultivation Xing Zheng only managed to decrease the time to 30 minutes. Frustrated and feeling confined, Xing Zheng rushed to the outer sect hall and went to the assignment board. It was here that disciples would accept tasks to aid the sect and earn merit points that could be exchanged for resources, treasures, and even technique scrolls.
Looking at the board he grabbed the first assignment that caught his eye, a spirit beast subjugation task. One of the local villages that resided in the outer fringes of the sect’s lands was under the attack of some sort of spirit wolf and they had requested that the sect deploy disciples to deal with them. After taking the request down it seemed that he would have to wait five days to meet everyone else who had accepted the request.
Five days later Xing Zheng donned his azure martial artist robes and mortal natural treasure steel sword and set out to the outer sect hall to meet his fellow disciples. There were 10 others as it turned out, with a senior disciple that had been in the sect a decade longer than Xing Zheng leading the mission. As their eyes met the older man’s eyes flickered from gray to azure and he nodded his head.
Responding in kind he tried to remember if he had ever met the man but his light brown hair and slightly round frame brought no memories to Xing Zheng’s mind. Shrugging he mentally noted that the senior disciple must have been able to detect his astute attainment in the rain reflecting 10,000 visions technique.
A Group of sect disciples at the first-grade realm could travel quickly and lightly as most of their equipment consisted of lightweight talismans, small array plates for warding away beasts at night, and food for the journey. The land seemed to blur by as their physical training showed its merit allowing them to cover two times the ground that even the fittest base mortal could cover. Within 10 days the group found themselves walking in a relatively flat wetland that had many small winding shallow waterways running through it.
Small islands were surrounded by the water giving way to mud near the shore and no small amount of filth was caking the hem of each of their robes. Soon they finally found a relatively large expanse of flat ground that had some amount of vegetation, mostly bushes and low grass. However, it was the largest unbroken landmass around forming at least a 5km square of flat land.
Upon arriving the stench in the air was revolting and several of the 10 disciples threw up on the spot adding their bile stench to the mix. The vista that greeted them was one straight out of a grisly nightmare, wolf corpses were strewn in the sparse vegetation with large cyst-like growths swelling from some of them. Blood covered the ground all over and the air seemed to hum with a malevolent rhythm.
Quickly Xing Zheng realized the vibration in the air was no resonance of energy but was the humming of thousands of wings, before he could shout a warning to his fellow disciples a scream broke the silence. Steel rang as all the disciples unsheathed their swords forming a defensive circle around their downed ally as the leader of the senior disciple quickly cut down the 20 blood flies that had ripped hundreds of small cuts across the junior disciple's body. After applying a medical elixir to the wounded to stabilize the wounded disciple the leading disciple joined the defensive ring and the desperate struggle began
Swords flicked outward as darkness descended on the group, the uncountable blood flies blotting out even the sky. Quickly some of the less skilled disciples retrieved torch array plates from their robes, activating them with their own mental energy as they brandished the plates to drive the swarm away. Tens of thousands of blood flies had been killed and smashed but more kept coming, they formed an impenetrable mist of death the group could not hope to break out of. Hours had passed quickly since the initial struggle had begun and the insect group showed no signs of thinning. Bitterness had swelled in Xing Zheng’s heart at this point, a scion of Xing would die that day to mere flies. The irony was that they hadn’t even needed to come here, now that the blood flies had wiped out the wolves there was no beast group to suppress.
Although this swarm would need to be dealt with, surely some more powerful senior disciple from the inner sect would be tasked to do this safely instead of sending them to their deaths. As the hours dragged on the disciples slowly closed the circle tighter and tighter so that those that were exhausted could rotate in and out to take brief moments of respite. After five hours the first disciple died, his limp body dragged into the black mist only briefly coloring red before being shredded apart. Morale sharply fell after this and within the next three hours three more fell.
Xing Zheng started to lose himself in the killing, his wrist cuts flowed without fail his mental exercise drilled into his body allowing him to distinguish each fly he bisected not wasting any movement. Minutes seemed to turn into hours, hours into days, and before Xing Zheng knew it only he and the Senior leader were remaining back to back. Both had no idea how long it had been. It felt like an eternity but surely at least it had been a day, surely the sect would send help when they didn’t report in?
None of that mattered at the moment, the only thing that mattered was the movement of his sword and the mental energy straining to identify the next target for his wrath. Xing Zheng was proud of a few things but his swordplay was surely one of them, he would not fall while his hand could still hold this sword. Following another eternity Xing Zheng heard the dull, distant thud of his final ally hitting the ground and with him, the last remaining torch array plate fell into the blood drenching the ground and snuffing out the light, only the cold night remained.
That moment stretched on as the swarm seemed to form a perimeter circle feeling out his reaction and ready to pounce. In a moment of madness, Xing Zheng had begun laughing loudly as the clearest sound resonated in his mind, not of loved ones or his bitterness, it was the simple soft patter of rain that had rung true amid the deafening hum of the blood flies.
At that moment Xing Zheng felt something, he felt himself become the storm. He was the clouds, the lightning, the thunder, each raindrop individually yet all the raindrops simultaneously. For the briefest moment Xing Zheng touched all of existence and then his sword moved, in that instant, he felt 100 flies and felled them all.
The next second 100 more and then 100 more, his sword fell like the rain. Fluid and deliberate it was as if the flow of energy throughout all of heaven had been revealed to him. After a few seconds his hand fell limply to the side, his body unable to maintain such an onslaught of techniques, but that did not matter for he could see. Xing Zheng could see each tiny fly as it pounced on him. Like this, with his perception growing by exactly 100 every second in the last moments he had finally tasted it, the true vastness of the Eternal Dao.
Prepared for death, Xing Zheng could only stare wide-eyed as the heavens themselves condensed into thin clouds and the storm of noise around him quelled to a soft drizzle that fell from the sky. To Xing Zheng, each drop that fell from those clouds was infinitely more vast and fierce than any storm he had ever glimpsed, where each one passed hundreds of thousands of blood flies simply seemed to melt away. It was as if 10,000 years of rain and weathering had descended on the swarm at once.
Less than a second had passed before each and every fly was dead, as the rain ended the fly corpses fell to the ground, each one to be bisected cleanly in two as if the heavens had simply willed them to split. Suddenly, in front of Xing Zheng, the silhouette of a man appeared. The only thing he had been able to see of the man was his piercing azure eyes, a gaze that seemed to contain all of the rain that would ever fall.
“Young man, what is your name?” the man had asked him, kneeling over his prone form with care and concern in his voice
“Xing…. Xing Zheng” he had replied barely able to speak through his exhaustion
This was the last thing he had remembered before blackness had taken him…