“Come,” Zhang Lifen said. “There are more pleasant places to talk than a training arena.”
He Yu was more than happy to fall in behind her as they left the training area together. As they made their way through the inner sect common areas, he noticed a good number of disciples shooting less-than-friendly looks their way. He recalled what Zhang Lifen had said about her reputation within the inner sect, and Fang Yingjie’s reluctance to speak on it.
The sum of the reactions didn’t bode well for him. While he’d been left well enough alone during his time in convalescence, he had no doubt that wouldn’t last much longer. He also thought back to those first few duels he fought in the outer sect. How easily he’d beaten his opponents, and he’d used the spoils from those fights to enhance his own cultivation.
Would he find himself similarly preyed upon? He’d amassed a fair amount of wealth over the past months, at least in comparison to what he’d started with. The idea that someone could simply challenge him and potentially rob him afterward didn’t sit well.
The stories had all described cultivators as noble heroes, but his time at the sect had steadily chipped away at that notion. He couldn’t really refuse such challenges either, at least not without a tremendous loss of face. He’d be marked a coward, and all that would accomplish would be to bring yet more challenges his way.
Then there was the fact that he could win. Taking spoils from other sect disciples—even disciples who’d challenged him first—still didn’t sit quite right with him. The spoils he’d gained from King Hao’s camp were different. Those had been stolen from innocents the bandits had murdered in cold blood. It would have been a waste to leave it all behind.
When Zhang Lifen finally led them to a small garden in a secluded corner of the sect, He Yu pushed thoughts of duels and spoils from his mind. After months of elusiveness on Zhang Lifen’s part, he finally had a chance to ask her the questions that had been piling up. It was obvious where she expected him to start, and it was as good a place as any. Given that she was setting out a formation inscribed tea set, it looked as if she planned to spend some time here.
“What happened during my match with Princess Tan?” he asked. “Something—I don’t know—placed itself within my spirit.”
“Tell me of your thoughts just prior,” Zhang Lifen said, setting out the tea set with well-practiced grace. With a pulse of her qi, she filled the pot with water. He Yu couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew his answer already.
Regardless, he returned to the memories and described them to her. The feeling that Tan Xiaoling had tapped into something greater than herself, given the effortless way she fought. The loss of his weapon when he tried to copy her. The way the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace reflected his attempt back to him, and how he’d realized there was something in what she’d said to him the night before—that she didn’t hold back.
He Yu described the cascade of insights that came as he tried to stand his ground against an overwhelming foe. The memories of awakening, of stepping into the ring during the tournament in Shulin. And all the times since when he’d stood against odds he ought not have.
As he finished, Zhang Lifen placed a cup in front of him. “The Wayborn Seed is the first real connection a cultivator forms with their Way. As you cultivate, you first come to understand your own path to the Eternal Dao; its shape, the meandering track it takes through the world. Your actions influence this path, and the path influences you in turn. It is a cycle that feeds into itself, over and over, again and again. Your desire to be a hero formed the first steps of your path. As you acted according to that desire and defined what it meant, you grew ever closer to the fullness of your Way.”
“But I don’t know what it means,” He Yu said.
“Don’t you?” Zhang Lifen asked. There was a pointedness to her words that gave him pause. “What did you tell Princess Tan when you were armed with nothing but a piece of metal from a shattered weapon?”
“But that can’t be it,” He Yu said. “There’s more to being a hero than simply not giving up.”
“You have to start somewhere, don’t you?”
He Yu fell silent. There was no denying the truth and wisdom in her words. The Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, turned upon himself, showed him as much. So did the spark of insight he’d gained during the tournament—his Wayborn Seed.
“Does every cultivator form a Wayborn Seed?” he asked.
“No,” Zhang Lifen said. “Most who do only form one after they reach the Fourth Realm. Master Cai says that a deeper understanding of the Eternal Dao, and by extension one’s Way, are necessary for reaching the higher realms of cultivation. I don’t know of any Fifth Realm cultivators who haven’t.”
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He Yu had formed his before reaching Golden Core. “What about forming one while still in the Third Realm?” he asked.
“Rare, but not unheard of,” Zhang Lifen said after taking a sip of her tea. “Princess Tan had already formed hers before she joined the sect.”
“Is that why she was always so much stronger than the rest of us?” He Yu asked.
It took Zhang Lifen a moment longer to answer. She tapped a finger to her lips as she thought, before finally speaking again. “It’s part of it, yes. Tan Xiaoling is not someone to measure yourself by, however. Not only is she a once-in-a-generation talent, but she also comes from circumstances that forced her to push herself beyond what would normally be expected. It’s best to focus on yourself, especially now that you’re approaching the bottleneck to the Fourth Realm.”
He Yu fell silent as she spoke, considering. Although he knew that Tan Xiaoling was far beyond him still—the tournament was evidence enough of that—something in his intuition told him Zhang Lifen was correct in her advice. There was more to that strength than just the head start Tan Xiaoling had come to the sect with.
Zhang Lifen let the silence hang for a moment, before speaking again. “Perhaps this might be a bit closer to what you were looking for. Reflect upon your advancements so far. When you advanced to Foundation or Body Refining, what happened to your qi? How did it change?”
“It became more potent. More dense,” he answered immediately. Then he added, “But I didn’t didn’t feel any change like I did during the tournament.”
Zhang Lifen nodded at the explanation. “Think of it like this. An artist may create something of passing beauty with low-quality paint. Higher quality paint may give better colors or may be easier to work with, but it won’t improve the artist’s skill. A true master of the brush can create a thing of beauty even with poor-quality paint and worn-out tools. And they will do so more easily than a novice attempting to produce their best work.
“The Wayborn Seed similarly affects us. The more closely we follow our Way, the more closely we come to resemble the master painter. The seed resonates with our aspects and our presence, thus easing the flow of qi and our ability to use techniques. Do you recall the first truth I ever shared with you about cultivation?”
Despite searching his memory for several minutes, He Yu could only draw a blank. He was tempted to tell her that she’d told him very little thus far. Aside from telling him how far behind he was, she’d really only admonished him for taking a shortcut when he’d advanced to the Second Realm.
“As you ascend the realms of cultivation, your spirit exerts an ever greater influence on both yourself and the world around you. The closer you align with your Way, the more easily you’re able to do so, regardless of your advancement. This is how the Wayborn Seed makes you stronger.”
“It all seems a bit fuzzy,” He Yu mused.
“Of course it does,” Zhang Lifen said, giving him an approving smile. “Why do you think we spend dozens of mortal lifetimes attempting to comprehend the barest fraction of the Eternal Dao? If it were easy, or straightforward, everyone would be an immortal, wouldn’t they?”
He Yu hummed his agreement but said nothing. A part of him was focused on the breeze moving through the trees planted at the edges of the garden. The distant scent of rain from the clouds that had gathered around the higher summits of the Shrouded Peaks. The low rumble of far-off thunder that he was certain only he could hear.
“You should focus on breaking through to late Body Refining before all else,” Zhang Lifen said, pulling He Yu from his reverie. He hadn’t noticed, but she’d put the tea set away at some point.
He caught her meaning immediately. Whatever contemplations he needed to form his Golden Core could wait. At least for the time being. It would be best if he reached the peak of the Third Realm quickly. After all, he’d already seen to tremendous benefit that cultivating at the peak could bring.
“I do have one last question,” he said. The truth was, he had far more, but this was the only one he thought Zhang Lifen would be likely to answer at this point.
She inclined her head, indicating he should ask.
“Killing intent,” he said. “I felt it in Tan Xiaoling’s techniques. King Hao and Old Guo both used it as well. I had always thought it was just that—intent. But it seemed something more than that.”
“A far simpler concept than the Eternal Dao,” Zhang Lifen said with a smile. “Far more immediately useful in a fight for one’s life as well.”
She rose and motioned for him to follow. They made their way back in the direction of He Yu’s new home as evening fell over the inner sect.
“Killing intent is just that,” Zhang Lifen began. “The intent to kill. Intent is powerful. Much can be accomplished without it, but we can accomplish more with it. In a fight, the intent to kill one’s foe flows into our actions. Into our techniques. A cultivator who has shed enough blood can use that.”
He Yu thought back to the razor-edged sharpness that clung to Tan Xiaoling. He didn’t know how much of that was a result of her killing intent, or how much was from her connection to her Way. He knew that she’d probably spilled more blood than any other disciple of their advancement. King Hao’s released killing intent had been similar as well.
“What about you?” He Yu asked.
“I would not be so crass as to demonstrate here,” Zhang Lifen said. “It would be a bit much for even most of the Fourth Realm disciples to bear.”
“Is that all it can do though? Just make people uncomfortable?”
“Of course not. Did you not notice when Tan Xiaoling used it in her techniques? Could you not feel the weight of her desire to destroy when she shattered your own weapon to pieces?”
He had noticed. But that didn’t answer his question. Of course, Zhang Lifen picked up on his dissatisfaction and spoke unprompted.
“Think on how you form a technique. Think on how you shape it, how it comes into being through your manipulation of qi. Then think on how you would imbue the technique with your own intent to kill. To destroy. To take, irrevocably, the life of another.”
He did as he’d been instructed, and his stomach turned. An uncomfortable memory of a frightened young bandit surfaced.
“It is more difficult a thing than you realize, no?” Zhang Lifen asked.
He Yu could only nod.
“We shall continue your training tomorrow. Meet me on the field at first light,” she said. “Until then, contemplate on the things we’ve spoken of. Training is only as good as the insights we gain from it, after all.”