> Train well. Eat better. Rest harder. Take your time. It matters not how fast you go, as long as you do not stop.

>

> From The Mind Scripture

"So nice of you to wait for us, great Hri Jikajika," said Akazha, smiling. She rolled her eyes. They had washed their hands and feet before coming inside.

"That looks delicious," said Raxri, rushing over to their spot on the table and sitting down on their silk cushion. They began scooping out spoonfuls of rice and placing them onto their plate. Akazha came in afterwards after dipping out and cleaning the contents of her pipe.

"Delicious it truly be," said Jikajika, grinning. "I would know. For I cooked it. So it must be."

Raxri took one mouthful of rice and roasted pork and the meat melted in their mouth. Even after they've swallowed, they could still taste it on their tongue, in their nose . The savory, juicy taste of pork mixed all the juices that dripped from it made Raxri almost awaken from pure bliss.

"There," said Akazha. "Now you understand that some people can cultivate their skill through cooking."

"I understand now..." Raxri said in between mouthfuls of food. Akazha managed a laugh and ate along them.

"Interesting to think even your memories of how roasted pork tasted like has been scrubbed from you."

After Raxri had slowed down from eating too quickly, they turned to Akazha and said: "Akazha, you said, Hri Jikajika. And the bidaree Vibujja spoke of a Hri Kresshana, the God of Wanton Destruction. What does this mean? I have even said it myself, out of reflex, but I'm not sure I remember where it comes from, and what it means."

Akazha shrugged. "An honorific. Hri is also from Karitan. It means, in a word: 'Noble,' 'Excellent One,' or "Great One." Sometimes, 'gentleperson.' Often, it is only really used for gods and beings that come from such ancient faiths, or those that like the moniker. This is alongside Dang Hwan, which means 'Most Honorable One,' reserved for kings, queens, high chiefs, and other high ranking officials. Often, though, they really are just used for gods and other supranatural beings. More than often, ser, dame, miss, your excellency, your grace, your majesty, his/her holiness, his/her excellency, and such from Bazaar Kyarpan are more than enough."

"And are the equivalents of those spoken in that Trade Shennin language that you told me about?" asked Raxri.

Akazha only nodded. "Good that you're picking up on these things. They'll be most useful for when you must speak with folk from the other tribes."

"Things like Hri and Dang Hwan," said Jikajika, after swallowing a particularly large chunk of meat. "Are part of ritual language, more specifically. Language for when dealing with things beyond human ken. Language for performing the various ceremonies and rituals revealed to humans to appease the lords of the land."

"I understand," said Raxri. "Thank you for the revelation." And they continued to eat.

Raxri, as they ate, managed to portion their mind to think and ruminate upon the various intricacies of this land. They have not even left this island of Pemi, they have never even sailed the seas yet, and they are already skewered through with so many mores. The weight of history was unbearable. To survive it, they had no choice but to ride the current.

After they ate, they resigned to some post meal recovery by leaning back and enjoying some milk tea spiced with cloves, cinnamon, and cardamoms. Raxri and Akazha both smoked tobacco on their pipes now, though in small, meager amounts. Just enough for Raxri and Akazha to enjoy the nicotine.

"Work hard, rest harder," said Jikajika, almost falling asleep due to being so full. "Now this is a true food comatose."

"It was auspicious and meritorious to have trained before eating," said Akazha. "Otherwise we'd be falling asleep."

"I do not get why we get so sleepy after eating so much," said Raxri, half-heartedly, puffing out smoke.

"Thine body digests it yet," said Jikajika. "Higher level cultivators probably digest food more quickly and more efficiently, especially if they are body cultivators first and foremost."

"This world feels like it is built upon the backs of cultivators," Raxri said. A fleeting remark.

Jikajika laughed. "It is built by an interpenetration of all things. No one thing has built the world. Thou would do well to remember this. The first of the cultivators were peasants."

Another moment of silence as they all relaxed.

"Be sure to gather your rest, Raxri," said Akazha. "In few days time we will journey to Blacklight Town."

"And of course, I will stay here," said Jikajika. "Enjoying some peace and quiet, finally."

"Ha!" Akazha barked out a laugh. "The holy one will no doubt be inviting gods and spirits that they will encounter during their daily expeditions into the woods and rivers."

Jikajika shrugged. "What can I say? This old bird... I still have the spice."

Raxri laughed, finally understanding what they were talking about. "You two speak of Jikajika bringing back mates? A god seeks that sort of companionship?"

"What, thou thinketh we are all too different from thee and thine?" said Jikajika, with a good portion of humor. "Especially us tellurians, we are captivated by lust and desire yet. This is why we are still parts of the Six Paths, of the Wheel. We are still chained, unlike the Awoken of the Revolution."

"Right," said Akazha, smiling. "What Jikajika is saying is that gods still fuck."

"And a lot!" said Jikajika. "In much greater volumes than an average human can. The capacity of a godly body is only worn out after they are forcibly killed or after all their godly karma is extinguished through pure existence." They laughed. "But thou now must realize why there are a surplus of demigods in this world. If anything, spirits that are captured and charmed by humans are so seized by desire that they threaten their path along the Royal Road for it!"

"How interesting," said Raxri, wondering. "Do you think I am a demigod, Hri Jikajika?"

Jikajika shook his head. "As far as I know, thou beareth no elements of one. Etheral eyes, silky hair, porcelain skin... thou are shorn of all these things. Ye are born of the dirt!"

Raxri laughed. That was all they could do. But that did make them wonder who their true parents were. And if they would still ever find them. And if they had siblings. Or if they had anything resembling that kind of a family in the first place.

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In honesty, it was a harrowing, depressing thought. What if there was no one I could turn to? They no doubt must think I was dead. How long have I been dead, anyway? Raxri forced themself to throw away these thoughts. They would not bring to fruitful thinking. They would spiral into darkness.

Why shouldn't I spiral into darkness? they thought. The thoughts moved too fast for Raxri to catch. Like an arrow of shadow. Why shouldn't I sink into this murky pond of despair? If there is anyone deserving to grieve it is me, right? So much has been lost from me, and now so many people are trying to kill me. I should lie down and rot.

Raxri grappled with those thoughts until Akazha said:

"For the next few days I forbid you from any strenuous physical activity. These will be your rest days, and you must carry them all out to the end."

Raxri nodded, feeling heavier than before. "But I need to keep training. Else my muscles and my Will will atrophy..."

Akazha shook her head. She was done with her pipe and was staring at Raxri with her hands crossed. Still wearing the bare minimum, her forearms showed off sigilic yantra tattoos that looked like they would form a full mandala if she put them together at just the right angle. "Rest is the most important part of training. It is in rest that one's muscles grows, one's Will is consolidated, one installs the techniques, one internalizes new ideas and knowledge, one embodies the new spirit created by training. You would do well to keep that in mind."

Raxri exhaled and said, "R-Right. Thank you, Akazha." It made sense, of course. And Raxri was filled with a clear stream of relief as well. They could feel the fatigue creeping up on them, from their feet to their nose. They were already having a hard time breathing at times, if they were just sitting down. And the general temperature of the present time was more or less colder than normal, which meant Raxri felt like they were coming down with a common cold. But I'm sure Akazha has medicine for that. No way she has none.

"Travel to Blacklight Town requires traveling to Imos Town through the river barge. Black Light Town itself rests at a small floating island off the coast of East Pemi. You will understand why it is called Blacklight Town when we get there. For now, abstain from too strenuous of thought about it."

Raxri nodded, instead now wanting to think more about Blacklight Town, instead of dwelling on the pitch black thoughts that they had.

Nevertheless, after the end of everything, they retreated to their respective rooms and decided to sleep.

In their bed, Raxri sat up, clad and protected from the fear of mosquitos and disease spirits thanks to the mosquito net around their bed. The window beside them was only slightly open, just enough for the cold night wind to seep in, intermingling with the winds coming up from between the slats on the floor.

They turned one on of their lotus lights with a touch of their hand. It hung over their bed, within the mosquito net, casting a unique orange halogen light upon Raxri. Their shadows draped the wall as they picked up their mantra booklet and went through it. They began chanting each one 3 times as they went through them. The Great Compassion Mantra, the Rebirth Mantra, the Perfection of Wisdom Mantra, the Luminous Revolution Mantra, the Aspiration Beyond Heaven Mantra, the Realization of Interdependence Mantra, the Black Tala Mantra for destruction of enemies, the Four-Armed Daklaon Mantra for removing all obstacles, and even the Severing Mantra, which was said to be passed down by the Primeval Awoken Airotsana.

All of these mantras they chanted while with the Abbot, but the Abbot never gave Raxri initiation into these mysteries. Only the mantras, the basest level of Empowerment. I should ask Akazha about Empowerments. The Abbot only said it fleetingly during one of my training sessions. Perhaps, so as to not overwhelm me? But I must know, now.

Each of these, they went through, but one mantra Raxri managed to repeat a hundred times: the Luminous Mind Mantra. The mantra that could clear anxieties and troubles, the mantra that quelled the mind. Before long, Raxri felt sleepy as the mantra cut through their anxieties. In that state of tranquility, they sank into their cloth blanket. With their eyes closed, nestled upon the comfort of their bed, Raxri began remembering about those Yokers that controlled their mind and thus attained even greater achievement through it. I should ask Akazha about Yoking as well...

Sleep came to them like the darkness of night. First, the twilight of consciousness-loss. Next, darkness.

The next day, Raxri woke up to the sound of drizzle. The rains have not let up.

Without anything forcing them to wake up, they were feeling their debt of sleep. They chanted a quick mantra, and then lazily and messily made their hair up into a bun--strands falling all about their face--and then put on a sarong and robes, nothing else.

They walked out to the sound of Akazha conversing with Jikajika.

"It will be too treacherous to leave any later," said Akazha, as she wrote something on her palm leaf manuscript. "You know this, elder Jikajika."

"Of course I knoweth this, witch Akazha," replied Jikajika. "That does not change the fact that perhaps Raxri requireth more rest."

"They can rest on the travel there," said Akazha. "Raxri has been hardy. Too hardy, in fact. Have you not noticed? They've been handling blows like a carabao handles labor. Steadfast and without complaint. Their endurance is fully refined."

"Must be some sort of muscle refinement technique," said Jikajika, as Akazha blew off some smoke again. "Done by their past life. The present Raxri Uttara definitely benefits from it."

"How funny it is," said Akazha. "That we speak of the past Raxri as if they were a different person, when in fact they are the ones exactly before us right now."

"Thou art observant," said Jikajika. "But what is there that nails them, crucifies them, upon the altar of their past? Whoever the past Raxri Uttara was is no longer they are now. It is up to Raxri to decide what they will now become."

"Good morning, everyone," said Raxri, smiling. They made their way over to the annex so that they could brush their teeth. During their stay, they had been using a bamboo toothbrush to clean their teeth, and then a strange concoction as toothpaste to keep their teeth strong, even as it stained red. "Planning?"

Akazha nodded. "We leave on the next Esara," said Akazha, glancing at Jikajika. Jikajika just sighed and reclined to drink hot coffee from a teacup. Other glutinous rice cakes were laid out as well on the table. Raxri brushed their teeth quickly so that they could return immediately and engorge upon the breakfast laid bare.

"Esara?"

"The first day of the Monsoon Market Cycle, or a Week," said Akazha. "Each moon, or month, has six Monsoon Market Cycles. These Cycles were codified by Lissome Monsoon Trader, a cultivator of trading who traveled to every corner of the Utter Islands and had laborers, peasants, and merchants adopt his way of following days."

"I see. And how many months... are there?" asked Raxri.

"Twelve," said Akazha, still writing. "In all. You don't need to know all of it right now. This world is structured by the gods, you see. Just know that it is the month of the Dog, near the end of a year. Dog Month is the formal beginning of the Season of Air, but seasons always come and go in gradients. The first week of Dog Month is going to still be drizzly, as you've already probably noticed. By the next Esara, no doubt the rains will have subsided to make way for the cold and dry winds of the Hoarfrost Monsoon, coming from the Jagged Bladefields."

"I see," said Raxri, chewing on the sweet rice cakes prepared and sipping on the coffee. They were enjoying the variety of breakfasts that were being served here in Akazha's home, as always. Sometimes the day was begun with coffee, sometimes with tea, other times with rice and cooked bacon. It was a very interesting household. Raxri could only attribute it to Jikajika's cooking prowess. "Thank you. I will keep that in mind."

"You've been able to keep most of what we've been saying in mind," said Akazha. "Which is a good testament, I suppose, to your mental acuity."

Raxri simply just shrugged.

Jikajika smiled and pointed at the necklace around Raxri's neck. The Tristone. "Ah, I'm surprised I did not notice it when thou didst arrive. Thou bear the Tristones, now? Thou hast truly stepped into the mandalas of the Law."

Raxri looked down and nodded. "Ah, right. Yes. I have," they said, touching and caressing the Tristones for a few moments. "Given to me by the abbot."

"Keep it safe with you," said Akazha. "While it is but a necklace, it will help you remember your place in this world, and the precepts."

"I do not yet memorize all the Precepts," said Raxri.

Akazha smiled. "That is well. The wizard Sutasoma who lives in Blacklight Town will be able to reveal more of the secrets of the Law to you."

Raxri nodded and said, "I've been wondering, Akazha. Are there more... laws? Than the Law?"

Akazha continued writing on the palm leaf paper with her stele. She wrote in large, circular motions. "Other Laws? Well, if you see the Law as a doctrine or holy precepts to follow, then I suppose, yes. There is the Scarlet Order of the Ksewran, the God of Light Yenoa, there are the Holy Practices of Mulahara the God of Infinite Love, there is the Timeless Precepts of Primeval Wisdom, the 36 Tenets of the Gods-Way, the Apotheosis Path of the Ultra Deity, the Manifesto of Community Order, the Gun-Ways of Gun Socialism, the Teachings of Utter Ego... there are a large majority of them. You will meet them soon."

Raxri blinked. "Soon? Why...?"

"You are now officially traveling along the Black World of Martial Artists and Mystics, or just the Black World for short," she said, shrugging. "That's what we call the conspiracy-esque web of cultivators, a world overlaid our world, in which violence is the law as all paths converge. This is the law of the Wheel, after all. The continued revolution of the wheel of tremendous violence."