“- so now I have a bunch of Heavenly Energy sitting around and no idea how to use it.”

Having explained the majority of what’s happened since the Abbot fought Vyakhya, I lean back and take a breath, which is weird because I don’t really need air. It’s one of those things you can’t really think too hard about, because then you start noticing all the idiosyncrasies of existing as a soul rather than a flesh and blood person but of course now that I’ve thought about not thinking about it I can’t help but think about it and am now struggling to do normal things like blink breathe and relax. That’s fine though, because the Abbot needs some time to process everything I just laid down. Not just the stuff he missed, but a lot of the stuff I hadn’t told him yet, like Ping Ping’s ascension, Pong Pong’s Heavenly Poop, and various other things I forgot he didn’t already know, though I left out any and all things to do with my previous life for the sake of brevity and shame. Despite his many, many questions along the way, I was unable to really clarify it all for him, and it seems he’s having trouble coming to grips with all of it, which I totally understand, but sooner would be better than later seeing as we’re working on a tight schedule here.

Hang on. Why am I in such a rush all of a sudden? I mean, yea, Song kinda lit a fire under my ass after telling me about how Shuai Jiao toppled Luo-Luo from her figurative throne, but I was perfectly fine wasting a few days trying to get to Kukku for a nap. Something is urging me along, a tiny, annoying voice in the back of my head telling me that we’re running out of time, but I don’t think it’s the Abbot’s impending death. Though he said he’s dying, I don’t think he’s in any immediate danger, just that he’ll die eventually if someone doesn’t do something about it. While the injuries he took in battle are partially responsible for his current predicament, he didn’t disagree when I said damage to the soul is easy to fix. Instead, he said he believes he has nothing left to live for, meaning his issue isn’t with a lacking solution, but rather his inability to find a reason to live for.

Which raises a lot of questions, ones I should really get the answers to, because if the Abbot is literally too sad to live, then this is probably a tribulation I’ll face myself in the future.

After a long silence, the Abbot finally sighs and regards me with perplexed curiosity, as if I’m some sort of strange creature he’s never encountered before. “There is more you have yet to share,” he says, going straight for the throat without hesitation, “But if you are unwilling to reveal all, then I will not push, for you would not keep anything from me if it were relevant.” Oh good. “However, as it stands, I am… uncertain as to how to proceed, for reasons that you might already understand, but I will explain nonetheless. Have you heard the tale of the three blind men and the elephant?”

“They walk into a bar and order a drink?” Already knowing my joke will fall flat, I hold up a hand to forestall the Abbot’s confused question. “Err I think so. The blind guys grope an elephant and try to guess what sort of animal it is. After each touching a different part of the elephant, they all arrive at wildly different conclusions, but rather than run their hands over the elephant for more information, they fall out and quarrel among themselves.” Shrugging, I add, “I think it’s something to do with humanity’s tendency to form opinions based on limited information and our inability to admit wrong.”

“Suffice to say you have a basic grasp of the parable then,” the Abbot drawls, his sarcasm so faint I almost miss it. “Perhaps a visual explanation would work better.” The skies darken and the Abbot disappears from sight, and in his place sits a cylinder floating on its side in mid-air in front of a dark corner backdrop. “Imagine the cylinder is the Dao, one we cannot perceive with our eyes. All we can see is the shadow the Dao casts upon the world, which in this case, is represented by the walls.” A light blinks into existence along the cylinder’s side, and it’s square shadow is projected on one of the walls. “Note that with the lights and walls in this configuration, the shadow formed by the Dao is a square. This is the truth.” The first light blinks out, and a second by the circular surface, projecting a circle of the same shape. “In this configuration, the shadow formed by the Dao is circular. This is also the truth.” The first light appears again, while the second light remains in place, and now there is a square shadow on one wall and a circular shadow on the other.

“The light is our perspective, the shadow our understanding, and yet the Dao remains the same.” Understanding the Abbot’s meaning, I add, “Our limited subjective experience renders us unable to understand the Dao in its entirety.”

“That is one way to interpret it, Junior Brother.” The Abbot’s voice sounds like it’s coming from where he was seated across from me, but I am still unable to see him. “Another is that there is no singular Dao.”

Pointing at the cylinder, I say, “But isn’t that the Dao?”

“Indeed it is, but if we are unable to perceive the Dao directly, then from our perspective, there is no difference between the Dao and the truth we are able to perceive, or more succinctly, the truth becomes our personal Dao, one unique to each individual’s perspective. Do you agree?”

“The truth I perceive is my unique Dao.” I test the thought out loud to hear how it sounds, and though it feels deep and insightful, it’s one of those sentences that really doesn’t say much at all. The sun is bright. Water is wet. My perspective is unique. Duh. “Say I agree. So what?”

The Abbot pauses, and I can almost hear his frustration in the ensuing silence, as well as an inaudible utterance of ‘Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo’. Feeling sheepish about my stubborn stupidity, I offer a shrug and an Aura to try and convey that I get it, but I also don’t get it, and I’m not smart enough to know why. Sensing his curiosity, I try and explain my reservations. “I mean… I understand what you’re getting at, that we can only study that which we can quantify, but just because we have yet to understand the full measure of the Dao does not mean it is utterly unfathomable. I just feel like equating our personal truth to the Dao is a bit… lazy.”

The Abbot’s laughter comes as an unexpected surprise, but a welcome one to be sure, because it means our conversation is helping him pierce through his woe and misery. The man lost his family and found a surrogate father in his Mentor, a brother in Mahakala, and a comrade in Vyakhya, so losing them all must have hurt something fierce. I can’t take their place, and in fact, no one can, but as strange as it is for me to say this, humans are social creatures and need interaction to survive. The Abbot has been here on his own for months now, with nothing to do except reminisce about better times and nothing to look forward to. I tried to do something similar in the Call Centre of the Void, but not only has the Abbot been here longer, he also doesn’t have anyone he cares about enough to draw him out of his funk.

“You are a child full of contradictions,” he says, still chuckling in the shadows. “But surprises as well. You are correct, Junior Brother. This monk humbly accepts your criticism and will keep it in mind moving forward, but until such a time as we are able to perceive the Dao, we have only the truth to work with.”

“Fair enough.” Which is why I sort of agreed, but the Abbot wanted to hear my thoughts anyways. “Again, so what?”

Seems rude, but I’m just trying to stay on topic, because the Abbot and I both have a tendency to ramble on. “If there is no singular, quantifiable Dao, then we must accept that while there are immutable facts, the Dao differs from each and every perspective, and thus the manner in which we perceive those facts is not always the same.” Drawing my attention back to the cylinder, the object shifts before my eyes into more of a squarish wedge with a circular base. A third light appears overhead and casts a triangular shadow on the floor, and now there are three different perspectives to account for. The object continues to shift and more lights are added, and while the original three shadows remain fixed in place, more unique shadows are cast to accentuate the Abbot’s points. “Thus, the Dao is a square, and not a square. The Dao is a circle, and not a circle. The Dao is a triangle, and not a triangle. All true, and not true, depending on which perspective the Dao is viewed from.”

“And thus we must all forge our own Paths,” I supply, utterly disheartened by the direction of our conversation, because I’ve heard it all a thousand times in a thousand different ways.

“Correct again, Junior Brother.” Unaffected by my lack of enthusiasm, the object and walls fade away as the sky brightens and the Abbot reappears before me, his lips pursed in an apologetic smile. “Others can offer guidance, but only you can see your unique truth and determine the correct path forward. Hence, my uncertainty on how to proceed, because you have progressed along a path so unique and unheard of that it is difficult to tell which of your steps were correct and which were mistakes. I am also unable to understand how you rationalize the many contradictions within your Dao, and fear that if I were to question you further, your Path would crumble apart beneath your feet and send you plummeting into the darkness once more.” Shrugging in a very me way, in a ‘sorry-not-sorry’ kinda way, the Abbot adds, “A valid concern, you must agree, considering your recent attempt to lose yourself in oblivion.”

“...Fair enough.” Sometimes, a little brutal honesty is just what the doctor ordered, and in my shame I vow to never run from my problems again. Or at least I’ll try. No promises. “I disagree with one thing though.” Meeting the Abbot’s eyes, I order my thoughts before speaking, which is a new and unusual thing I’m trying these days. “You said you are unsure which of my steps were correct, and which are mistakes, but I don’t think that distinction is necessary.”

“Oh?” Knowing that it’s not my pride speaking, the Abbot takes a moment to consider my response before we continue. That’s how you know he’s paying attention, thinking about what I say before asking me to explain, and I gotta say, I’m enjoying it. “Pray tell.”

“If we each must forge our own Path, then by definition, there can be no ‘wrong’ steps. We all make mistakes, and the Mother knows I’ve made plenty, but every step taken, whether it be forward, backwards, sideways, or otherwise, becomes a part of my path. A wrong turn is still a wrong turn, but the experience becomes a part of my Path, because it colours my perception which in turn could lead to a broader perspective of the truth and the Dao behind it. Failure is as much a part of life as success, and a far better teacher to boot, so while many of my mistakes still haunt me to this day, I am the man I am today because of my victories and defeats, not in spite of the latter.”

All stuff I already knew, because people wiser than me have told me, but I just never put it all together in one place. Pieces of the puzzle coming together, and while I still have no idea what the big picture looks like, I at least have a general framework to go with.

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. Praise to the Heavens, and all the mysteries within.” Smiling as he nods along, he regards me with an appreciative gaze and says, “I was correct all along. Your wisdom would be a welcome addition to the Brotherhood, even if you never ascribe to our beliefs.”

“A devil’s advocate, as it were, someone to argue from the viewpoint of the sinner.”

“And in doing so, open the minds of the Brotherhood to more perspectives. Good, good.” As he sits up straight, the Abbot’s entire demeanour shifts before my eyes, no longer perplexed or reluctant, but ready to dive right in. “Then if Junior Brother is confident in his Dao, I will not mince words any longer and ask the questions that plague me. As I said, you are a man of many contradictions, and I wish to hear how you view them. You crave order and set your schedule each day with as little deviation as possible, and even a minor change in routine sets your nerves on edge, yet you also consistently flourish in the throes of chaos, making great strides in your Path, career, and accomplishments where others falter and fall. How do you reconcile the difference between your preferred and your… perhaps not natural environment, but one you thrive in nonetheless?”

“Just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean I have to love it.”

The answer comes easily, and the Abbot seems surprised, but then understanding dawns and he feels sheepish about overlooking the obvious. “Then what of your hunger for knowledge?” he asks, still a bit on the back foot, “And your tendency to reject established facts, like your insistence that teeth do not naturally grow back, despite all evidence to the contrary?”

“Just because it’s a common belief, doesn’t mean it’s true all the time.” Shrugging, I add, “If I claimed the sky is blue, most would nod and accept my statement as true, but the sky can also be orange, red, grey, or black depending on the circumstances. If someone has never seen the sky before, they wouldn’t know this, so when describing the sky to them, we would have to be more specific. Such is the case when discussing the Dao, because if no one has ever seen it, how can we know our established truths are in fact always true? We must challenge everything we know and prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt before we can accept it as fact, because otherwise, we’ll never know for sure what colour the sky truly is.”

Without nodding, the Abbot considers my answer for long seconds before continuing. “In times of peace, you work harder than any two of your peers, pushing yourself beyond your limits without mercy, yet in times of crisis, you have a tendency to shirk your duties and avoid doing what is necessary. One example would be during your journey to the Imperial Grand Conference, where you knew you would be facing the greatest trials and tribulations yet, but instead of focusing on furthering your Martial Path in preparation of what lay ahead, you took time out of your journey for sightseeing. While you were fortunate enough to begin a friendship with the Guardian Turtle, you had no way of knowing this would happen in advance, and you continued to neglect your basic training in favour of floating about in Nan Ping Bay even after it was clear the Legate intended to ensnare you within his schemes. Why?”

“Neglect my training? I fought like twenty duels on my first day there.”

“And avoided them the entire time after.”

“Well... yea. The general population only sees the results, and there’s no guarantee I would win against every competitor. Why bother working so hard only for someone else to reap the rewards? Avoiding further duels was the smart move.”

“...Perhaps you are correct,” the Abbot concedes, in the tone of someone who is not entirely convinced. “However, do you disagree with my entire statement, or only in this particular example?”

...Well, he’s not wrong, not entirely. When push comes to shove, I do tend to deflect and delegate so I don’t have to deal with the issue myself. Offering him another shrug, I sigh and slump down in defeat. “I dunno, I just... when something is bothering me and there’s nothing I can do about it, I find it easiest to pretend the problem doesn’t exist and focus on something else.”

“There is never a scenario in which there is nothing you can do.” Fixing me with a knowing look, the Abbot continues, “You simply choose to do nothing, oftentimes at great cost.” Giving it a moment for his words to sink in, he smooths his robes and says, “Now, I will focus on more specific series of events and ask that you relay your thought process during them. Tell me, during the Purge, you argued with Han BoLao about the necessity of her actions and the morality behind her decisions, yet you didn’t act until hundreds had already died. Why did you act when you did, and not before or after? Why did you kill the suffering peasant instead of the sadistic torturer?”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

...This is fun. So much fun. Just the best. “I lacked knowledge and determination.” The truth spills out before I can contain it, but the Abbot does not recoil in horror. Instead, he waits in patient silence for me to continue, and I find myself saying more than I care to. “I knew the Purge was wrong, should have stood out to stop it from the beginning, but everyone told me to keep my head down and follow orders.” Unable to meet the Abbot’s eyes, I stare down at my folded hands and say, “I took the easy way out. I stood aside and allowed evil to triumph, a decision I will regret for the rest of my days. For the same reason, I turned my sword on the innocent instead of the guilty, because I could not bear the cost of killing Han BoLao.”

Also, I pitied her, wanted to save her, because I thought she could still be redeemed, unlike the peasant who was bleeding out before me. I don’t know his name, but his face still features in my nightmares, and sometimes, I even see it when staring into a writhing mass of Spectres, alongside other notable faces like DuGu Ren, the nameless bandits I killed, the Society Adherents I tormented, and more.

The Abbot’s questions keep coming and I answer to the best of my ability, but soon I find myself drowning beneath a deluge of guilt and self-recrimination.

“You saved Lang Yi and the other slaves on Yo Ling’s island, yet you consigned so many possible innocents to death as Legate. Why?”

“You built schools and orphanages in the north, but did not do the same for your districts. Why?”

“You love your animals, even the cattle and rabbits, but you have few qualms about killing animals for food. Why?”

“You know the Defiled can repent their ways, yet you slaughter them without care or conscience, launching their still living forms from your catapults to an unseemly death. Why?”

“You are the Devourer, able to detect the Spectres wherever they might be, yet your friend Huushal suffered under their effects for so many months. Why?”

“You love Sumila, yet you hurt her when you married Du Min Yan, and the same holds true in reverse. You know this, yet you intend to marry Mei Lin and cause even more pain to your current wives. Why?”

The Abbot does not let up as the hits keep coming, and I have no answer for his latest query except, “I love them, and I cannot give any of them up for another. I am a terrible, terrible person who somehow tricked them into loving me, and though I know there will come a day when they realize they are too good for me, I want to be with them for as long as I can.”

In the long seconds after my latest admission of guilt, I can only imagine the Abbot’s look of disgust as I stare at my empty hands. “Look at me, Junior Brother,” the Abbot says, forcing me to confront my worst fears. Though his tone is soft and neutral, I already know what I will see, because I feel the same way. I’m a terrible, hypocrite of a person, someone who just flits about doing whatever he pleases and taking the easy way out. As I crane my head up to look him in the eyes, my fears are somewhat confirmed as I find genuine disbelief in his gaze. “Why,” he begins, as I search for the missing revulsion and loathing, “Do you demand so much from yourself?”

...

“What?”

“This monk thought it arrogance,” he continues, as if I never spoke up, still studying me with that inquisitive expression. “Or perhaps even self loathing, but while both are still true, there is more to it than just this. You genuinely expect nothing less than excellence from yourself, to the point where even a veritable miracle is merely an acceptable result. You maintain that you, at eighteen years young, should have single-handedly stopped the Purge, saved Sanshu from the threat of Yo Ling, freed every slave and prisoner on his island, and used his treasures to right all the wrongs he wrought. You wholeheartedly believe this is what you should have done, that it was possible and you failed miserably at your duty, yet even I could not have stopped Han BoLao from administering the Purge, so why do you not see me as a failure as well?”

“I mean, when you put it that way, you’re not wrong.”

“Indeed. I should have revealed myself to Han BoLao and done what I could to convince her alongside you, but I did not for fear of consequences I dared not risk.” Tilting his head, he asks, “Do you think less of myself for not doing so?”

“Without knowing the full extent of your agreement with the Imperial Clan... a little.”

“Yet you do not loathe me, and would still seek my advice?” At my nod, he asks, “So why do you hold yourself in such disregard? Why do you blame yourself for matters you are unable to control? You did not bring the Purge down upon them, Yo Ling did, and by extension, Goujian and his Adherents. If you can forgive his Adherents and work alongside them now, why can you not forgive yourself?”

“Because...” Because I expect more from myself. I’m a reincarnator with memories of a past life. That makes me the hero, right? And heroes are supposed to right all wrongs and banish evil forever. Instead, when evil reared it’s ugly head, I stood aside and said ‘there’s nothing I can do’. That’s how evil wins. When good people do nothing, and that makes them worse than those who don’t know better.

The Abbot says nothing while I wrestle with my inner demons, watching and waiting without judgment. “I could say many things, give many justifications,” I begin, doing what I can to match his gaze, “But in the end, I hate myself for not doing more. That’s it. I knew the Purge was wrong, and I should have said more and done more to stop it, but I didn’t. I let fear guide my decisions, and I regret giving into fear.”

“And what could you have done? Rebelled against the Empire and been sentenced to death?” Shrugging, the Abbot says, “There are some choices that are not choices at all. Every living being yearns to survive, so I do not see how you can judge yourself so harshly for wanting the same.”

“There was a time when I didn’t, you know? Want to survive.”

“I know.” Offering a small smile, the Abbot says, “I saw it myself firsthand, when you threw your weapon at the dying peasant, wholly intending to give up your life in order to cut his suffering short.” A noble sacrifice, some might say, but not anyone here. We both know what it’s like to yearn for death, and honestly, I can’t really blame the Abbot for wanting to end things here and now. “To be human, is to choose, and while you have not always made the wisest decisions, you chose to go where your heart led you, which for you is a better guide than most.”

I myself said the same words back in Castle JiangHu, so to hear it repeated here is surprising to say the least. Though he’s mostly right, I still don’t entirely agree with his assessment, because I am certain I should be held to a different standard, if only because of the strange circumstances of my arrival. I’m also too embarrassed to talk about my somewhat juvenile fantasy of being the grand hero, which is good because I still don’t want to tell him about my past memories. I might have no choice but to tell him if I end up bringing him into my Natal Palace, as my condo isn’t exactly something I could’ve dreamt up on my own, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. “So... is there a point to all this?”

“Always so hasty, Junior Brother.” Smiling, the Abbot waves his hand and brings various scenes to life, scenes of me in battle or overcoming adversity in some way or another, many of which I did not know he was present for. On closer inspection, I realize he wasn’t actually there, and that most of the scenes are from my own perspective. This is the same as Kukku’s illusions, but instead of showing me my inner desires, it shows what’s currently on my mind, as evidenced by the flash of rooster I spot out of the corner of my eye. “I chose my questions not only to hear your answers,” the Abbot explains, as I watch myself fight Gen Shi on the fields of Sanshu, “But also to see how you would respond to such harsh accusations. Aside from your initial indignation regarding my statement about you neglecting your training, you accepted my stringent assessment of your accomplishments without question, which tells me it is not only pride or self-loathing that drives you to this self-destructive behaviour, but something more. Tell me, why do you distrust yourself so much?”

“...This is about Buddy, isn’t it?”

“Your Natal Guardian is a concern,” the Abbot admits, his brows drawn in worry, “But not the most pressing one, as it stems from the fact that you are unable to trust your own thoughts anymore.”

“Well, for good reason. I had a mental breakdown and created a split personality.”

“To help you recover from an ordeal that would have killed lesser men.”

“Crazy is still crazy, even if it’s the good kind of crazy.” Unable to believe I have to justify this, I add, “And what about all my Natal Souls? They were so full of malice and malevolence they were indiscernible from Spectres.”

“Because they were Spectres in everything but name.” Shaking his head, the Abbot matches my indignation and says, “Again, you take a simple concept and inundate it with complexities, when instead you should endeavour to do the opposite. Just as Water Chi is Water Chi regardless of the creation process, a Spectre is a Spectre, regardless of whether it is created with love or malice.”

...Okay, it makes sense when he puts it that way, but I don’t like the idea of being a Spectre machine. Natal Soul just sounds so much better.

Unaware of my silent agreement, the Abbot continues, “What’s more, though you erred in creating your Spectres, you overlook the good they’ve done in bringing an entire tribe of Defiled to the Brotherhood, to say nothing of how you used your Spectres to raise so many commoners into Martial Warriors and disseminate your Panacea Healing method without drawing suspicion. Who knows what else they’ve been up to? I myself am most intrigued in this Natal Soul method, though I fear few have the capacity to match you.”

Because not everyone can Devour and have near limitless amounts of Soul to work with, though I’m still kinda grossed out by how I’m literally merging souls with strangers. I hate that. “Well, it’s a terrible idea, because Natal Souls are unbridled emotion, so regardless if they are created with positive or negative emotions, they are, by definition, unbalanced.”

“Yet it is not their lack of Balance that concerns you, but rather your inability to trust yourself. Why? Have you been betrayed or betrayed others before?”

“...No?”

“Why is that a question?” Something in the Abbot’s eyes is throwing me off, something I can’t quite place.

“I don’t know.”

“Answer me again: have you been betrayed, or betrayed another before?”

“...I don’t think so, but I don’t remember anything before I was twelve.”

“You don’t remember?” Raising his eyebrow in dramatic question, the Abbot asks, “Or you don’t want to remember?”

“The first.” Obviously. “Do you know something I don’t? Because it feels like you do.”

“This monk has no facts to share regarding your life prior to enslavement,” the Abbot says, and I believe him. “Only suspicions. It’s entirely possible your mistrust stems from a traumatic event in early childhood, but until you remember something, then there is no use speculating any further. The problem is, you have so little trust in yourself, you’ve created a guardian in the form of a dog, one that you’ve handed full control of your Natal Palace to.”

The unspoken question hangs in the air, but I’m not as concerned as the Abbot is. “Buddy is a dog, sweet, loyal, and dumb as can be. He’ll keep my Natal Palace safe while I’m gone, no more no less.” As if my dog can learn how to use a computer. That’s ridiculous. It’d also be kinda adorable, but no, I’m not teaching him how to use the mouse and keyboard. That would just be too much power, because on the internet, no one knows you’re a dog.

“Amazing.” Shaking his head in disbelief, the Abbot continues to stare at me like I’m some exotic beast in a zoo. “You cannot trust yourself, yet hold so much trust in an animal. Surely you understand that the dog is not truly a dog, and merely a Natal Soul in another form.”

One based on the mark on my soul left by my dog from another life, but I never shared that pertinent detail. “I trust animals because they...” Will never betray you, is what I was going to say, but seeing how he already thinks I have trust issues, I change it to, “Are pure of intent. They do what they want, and Buddy just wants food, naps, and cuddles.” Not so far off from what I want, but alas, unlike Buddy, I don’t have someone to see to all my other needs.

Man, it’d be awesome if I was reincarnated as a dog, though I’m not sure how to feel about getting neutered. I love my sweet Buddy, but I do feel kinda bad for taking his testes, even if he’s happier for it.

...Oh god. Did I just consider making myself a eunuch, just to see if I’d be happier? Good lord, what have I become?

Not for the first time, I lose patience with this lecture and ask, “So...about that point you were trying to make?”

“I have made it several times, Junior Brother, you simply aren’t listening.” Eyeing me in vexation, the Abbot’s calm facade slips to reveal the passionate monk that tried to get me to join the Brotherhood for months without end. “Stop second guessing your decisions and trust yourself.”

“...What? That’s it? Trust yourself? That’s your grand advice?”

“It is all the advice you need.” Gesturing at the scenes still playing in the background, this time of me defeating Zian in single combat, the Abbot says, “You have come so far on your own merits, have accomplishments no one in history has ever matched, all because you have a perspective more unique than most. Your path is complex and convoluted to the point where this monk does not even recognize the truth you pursue, yet you progress along it by leaps and bounds with eyes, ears, and hands bound by sheer ignorance. Who can advise you on your Path besides yourself? You have everything you need to solve the issue before you, you simply need to trust yourself and take the next step.”

So the Abbot thinks I’m just like Song, possessing all the tools but not confident enough to believe in myself. Despite his faith in my capabilities, I genuinely have no idea where to start, and it’s clear from his expression that he sees it. Repressing a sigh, he closes his eyes to try and come up with a way to guide me to the right answer myself, while I focus on what I know.

Which is...

Well... a lot, but nothing that really makes sense.

Core Creation. Aura Condensation. Natal Palace Formation. Domain Development. These are the four milestones along the Martial Path, and I’ve successfully completed all four, albeit in an atypical manner. My Core was shattered and reformed using a Medicinal Bath, while my Aura is capable of exhibiting all emotions, rather than just courage or terror like everyone else. Then there’s the fact that my Natal Palace is not actually in my Core, but rather housed inside my excess Soul which I have hanging around in the Void, and of course the minor detail regarding how I wasn’t granted authority by the Heavens to Develop a Domain, and instead rejected Heavens’ authority and seized what was required.

Yanno, I can see why the Abbot has no idea how to point me in the right direction.

“This monk has three more pieces of advice to share with Junior Brother.” Having put his thoughts in order, the Abbot fixes his gaze upon me once more. “First, I would direct you to think back on our discussion regarding Spiritual Hearts and the differences between a human’s Path and an animal’s.”

That conversation took place a long time ago, but it springs to mind almost immediately as it was the time he revealed the fact that he had a Spiritual Panda and Tiger as well. “I asked you why animals don’t condense Auras and aren’t affected by them in the same manner, and you answered that once I figure out why, then I will have the answer to why we call them Spiritual Hearts.”

Nodding along without clarifying the statement, the Abbot moves on to his next point. “Second, I refer once again to your tendency to complicate matters by using different labels for the same thing. Chi Tea and Water Chi, Spectres and Natal Souls.” Shooting me a knowing look, he adds, “Visualization, Intent, and Emotion.”

What? Those are clearly three different things. As I open my mouth to argue this very fact, the Abbot’s stare stops me short, not because it is one of anger or warning, but rather expectation. We’ve never spoken much on this topic, but then my notes come to mind and I remember my thoughts on the subject. Visualization, Intent, and Emotion are the three methods through which we control Chi, but the Abbot is saying there’s no need to over-complicate matters with three separate labels. What’s a word that is synonymous with all three? One doesn’t exist. How about a word that encompasses their meaning?

No. Forget the labels. Go deeper. How does one control Chi?

With Visualization, Intent, and Emotion.

Or in other words, sheer force of Will.

“You understand. Good.” Again, the Abbot does that thing where he reads my mind without being psychic, and for once, I’m happy for it. “As for my third and final piece of advice, I am hesitant to voice it for fear of guiding you in the wrong direction, but alas, time is short and caution a luxury we can no longer afford.” Forestalling my question, the Abbot speaks in plain and simple common, without any nuance or subtlety. “Crawl before you walk. Walk before you run. Take things one step at a time instead of obsessing about the end result. The Dao is not so easily understood, not even by a man of your talents, so lower your eyes and set your sights on a more manageable goal. You disdain Insight and seek comprehension, but how can you understand that which you cannot quantify without first studying your Insights? You spurn the false Divinity this monk has obtained and aim for true Divinity, but if you believe there can be no mis-steps along your Martial Path, then there is no harm making a few mistakes along the way. Shatter the Void, Falling Rain, and only then should you turn your attention to what comes next.”

The world shifts around me and my stomach drops as I am hurtled back into my own Natal Palace. Hopping up from the bed, Buddy runs over to greet me as if I’ve been gone for years and years, and for all I know, I was. Taking some time to play with my dog, I ponder over the Abbot’s advice and pray that he still lives, because I can’t think of any other reason he’d say his time is short. No, he’s not dead, I know this, because I can still sense him out there in the real world. He just sent me back here because he knew I’d ask more questions, questions he could not answer, either because he lacks critical perspective or because he’s worried his differently coloured perception will guide me falsely.

...Have I really been trying to skip past Divinity to become an actual capital G God? I suppose that’s sorta what happened during the withdrawal from JiangHu, but I just figured that was... well... a fluke.

“Trust myself,” I mutter, giving Buddy’s belly a vigorous rub and smiling as his leg twitches in delight, “And take things one step at a time.” Idly considering giving my dog his balls back, I do away with the notion almost immediately. He doesn’t need them, doesn’t miss them, and I don’t really want him humping my leg, which he’s never done and hopefully never will. “So... Spiritual Hearts, Will, and Shatter the Void. What do these three subjects have in common?” Buddy, as per usual, does not respond, staring up at me in confused accusation now that I’ve stopped rubbing his belly. Monstrous as it makes me feel, I pat his chest and nudge him out of the way so I can sit in my computer chair, while repeating all the advice the Abbot passed along. “Trust myself. One step at a time.”

The familiar desktop greets me as usual, but instead of clicking journal.txt, I head to My Documents and look for my notes instead, which thankfully are saved on the hard-drive. Odd that, considering I never committed it to memory via my Natal Palace, but it’s still all here, exactly as I remember it. “The Core is the medium through which we harness Heavenly Energy...” Starting from the top, I read it to Buddy out loud, who joins me on my chair as if he were a lapdog half his size, his fat butt forcing me to half-cheek the chair while his front paws dig into my thighs. Hardly the most comfortable seating I’ve ever had, but I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Together, we’ll find the answers to my dilemma, or we should because the Abbot believes I already have everything I need to know, but there’s one thing bothering me, and it’s the fact that he never asked why I seek the Dao. It’s got me thinking though... why do I seek the Dao? Why do I seek strength? The answer seems more relevant than ever, but for the life of me, I don’t have a proper answer.

Why do I seek the Dao?

...

Bear arms. Nuff said.

...

I should probably give it a little more thought, but honestly, I can’t think of a better answer.

Chapter Meme

- End of Volume 37 -