"One last soul. You belong to the King. Your essence is mine."
The words weren't spoken so much as they were vibrated through the clotted ink of the smoke. It slithered toward Lei Ze, a physical rot that smelled of wet ash and old graves.
Lei Ze didn't flinch. He didn't scramble backward or even raise a hand to shield his face. He simply let go. His fingers remained locked in the cold, rain-soaked fabric of his mother's tunic, his knees sinking deeper into the mud. The world had ended when her breathing stopped; if this darkness wanted to swallow what was left of him, he would welcome the void.
A pillar of blinding gold suddenly tore through the grey downpour. It slammed into the obsidian murk with the force of a falling mountain, halting its advance in a spray of sparks.
Lei Ze's neck creaked as he turned his head. Grit and rainwater lashed his skin, kicked up by the sudden pressure.
A monk stood behind him, feet planted firm against the sodden earth. He looked less like a man and more like a statue carved from temple stone. One palm was thrust forward toward the smoke, while his other hand was tucked against his chest in a vertical, spiritual salute.
The smoke recoiled. It let out a sound like steam escaping a pressurized pipe, a low hissing groan as it drifted back. Within the roiling cloud, the stolen breaths of a hundred villagers sounded like a collective, panicked wheeze.
The monk didn't wait. He knew if this blight escaped into the woods, the surrounding valleys would become a graveyard by morning.
"Buddha's Shadow Clone," the monk barked. His voice had a resonant, metallic edge that cut through the thunder.
His fingers blurred. He wove a series of complex, jagged signs in the air, and four golden, translucent echoes of himself flickered into existence. They surrounded the mass, their faces masks of divine indifference.
"By the power of the Saha realm, Extract!"
Luminous cords of amber light lashed out from the palms of the monk and his projections. They pierced the smoke, anchoring it to the spot. The entity let out a sound that defied description, a cacophony of agonized groans, sharp barks of hatred, and the hollow wail of the grieving.
The monk ground his teeth, shoving his palms forward to intensify the heat of the spiritual light. He intended to incinerate the rot where it stood, but the air suddenly turned heavy and stagnant.
With a violent, wet pop, the smoke exploded. It didn't dissipate; instead, it transformed into a thick, violet-tinged fog that saturated the village in seconds.
"Poison?" the monk muttered, his eyes narrowing to slits. He and his clones shifted their weight, tightening the perimeter around the unstable core.
They adjusted their stance, hands moving in unison to reform the barrier. The golden light flared one last time, a sunburst at the center of the violet haze. With a final, muffled thud, the mass detonated. The purple vapor hung in the air for a heartbeat before the rain began to wash it away, leaving nothing behind but a faint, bitter metallic taste on the tongue.
The monk exhaled and lowered his hands.
The four golden echoes dissolved into the mist. He reached into his sleeve, pulled out a flickering talisman, and walked toward Lei Ze. The boy was now face-down in the mud.
The violet gas had been fast. Lei Ze's skin was already beginning to take on a greyish, sickly hue. His lungs labored, pulling in the toxic air with a ragged, wet sound.
The monk scooped the boy up. He moved with a grim efficiency, trekking toward the edge of the butchered village where a small temple still stood, its roof sagging under the weight of the storm. He laid Lei Ze down beneath the sprawling roots of an ancient tree and knelt in the dirt.
"This child... he is a vessel for calamity," the monk murmured, looking at the boy's twitching eyelids. "Hatred and sorrow have already begun to scab over."
The boy's forehead was burning. The monk could feel the oily residue of dark energy pulsing just beneath the skin.
He pressed two fingers against the boy's brow. A small, stabilizing pulse of Qi flowed from his fingertip, trying to anchor the boy's drifting spirit.
"The path ahead will either forge him or break him. I fear the man he will choose to become when the darkness calls again."
The monk reached into a leather pouch and pulled out a heavy, dark sphere. This was a Relic Bead, carved from the marrow of a high-tier spiritual beast and tempered by the prayers of a thousand brothers. It was a weight meant to hold down the demons of the mind. He pried the boy's jaw open and slid the bead inside.
The reaction was instantaneous.
A violent shockwave of yellow light erupted from Lei Ze's chest. It hit the monk like a physical blow, a gale-force wind that sent dead leaves swirling into the air. The boy's hair flared, glowing with an incandescent yellow hue for several seconds before the light died back down. He remained still, but his breathing had leveled out.
"Anger. Revenge," the monk said, his voice heavy. He stood up, his joints popping, and walked toward the temple without looking back.
The village was a tomb. No crickets sang in the grass. No birds took flight from the eaves. There was only the steady, rhythmic drip of water hitting the stones.
"Amitabha."
The sun dragged itself over the horizon the following morning, casting long, pale shadows across the ruins. Lei Ze was the only thing moving in the silence.
"Hahaha, you are mine! You possess a dark energy," a voice rasped in the back of his skull, oily and tempting. "Whatever you do, take the crooked path. The 'good' way is a slow death by the weight of Karma."
The voice vanished, but the nightmare it left behind stayed stitched to his retinas.
He saw the village again. The bodies were piled like cordwood. He saw himself kneeling over his mother, his fingers stained red.
The scene twisted. A man with a face like a storm cloud stood on a jagged cliff. He held a staff that looked less like wood and more like a captured lightning bolt, his eyes filled with a grim, terrible purpose.
Then, a final flash: a world in flames. Legions of beasts tore through the ranks of screaming mortals. At the center of the carnage stood a man of perfect, terrifying calm. He sat atop a mountain-sized creature, his face serene as he watched the world end, a silent laugh shaking his shoulders.
Lei Ze woke with a violent jolt. His throat was parched, and only one word could claw its way out.
"Mom!"
He scrambled up, his coordination shot. He was an orphan in a graveyard, and the weight of it hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. He ran toward the center of the village, his eyes darting across the ground.
The bodies were gone. There were no villagers, no mother, only dark, crusty stains on the earth where the life had leaked out of them.
"Mom... Mom..." he croaked. His voice cracked. The silence of the village was the loudest thing he had ever heard. "Why did you leave me?"
He collapsed onto his knees, his sobs racking his small frame, until a heavy, warm hand settled on his shoulder.
"Young one, stay your heart," a steady voice said.
"In this life, greatness is often the twin of loss. If you choose the right path, this pain will become your steel."
Lei Ze spun around, his body coiling like a spring. He had forgotten the stranger.
Looking at the monk now, a jagged thought pierced through his grief: This man was there. He has power. Why is everyone else dead?
He balled his fists, his eyes burning with a sudden, bitter heat.
"Who are you?" Lei Ze spat.
"My name is Jìng Xū."
Lei Ze's jaw was tight enough to crack a tooth. "You killed them. You killed my mother!"
Jìng Xū didn't react to the accusation. He continued to roll a talisman between his thumb and forefinger as he turned toward the northern face of the mountain. He paused, looking back with a neutral expression.
"Follow me."
Lei Ze trailed after him, his steps heavy with resentment. Every fiber of his being wanted to strike out, to scream, to find a way to make this quiet man bleed. He was certain the monk was the architect of his misery.
"Why did you slaughter them?" Lei Ze's voice was a strained hiss. "Why did you take her?"
Jìng Xū stopped. He tilted his head back, watching the morning sun filter through the canopy. "Young man, I did not take your mother's life. Death did."
Lei Ze searched the monk's face for a smirk, a lie, a flicker of guilt. He found only a vast, hollow sadness, as if the man were carrying the weight of the entire mountain on his back.
"And why should I believe a word you say?"
Jìng Xū resumed walking, leading the boy toward a narrow fissure in the rock, hidden behind a curtain of hanging vines. "I do not require your belief. I only require your attention."
Lei Ze followed him into the dark. He had lived in the shadow of these peaks for seven years and had never known this opening existed.
"What is this place?"
They emerged into a small chamber carved directly into the heart of the mountain. A dozen candles flickered on stone ledges, their flames steady despite the draft. Jìng Xū pressed his palms together and bowed to a small, simple altar.
"This is my dwelling, young one."
Lei Ze looked at the immaculate floor, the lack of furniture, the crushing stillness of the stone. "Elder Jìng Xū," he said, the title feeling like ash in his mouth, "how long have you been hiding in here?"
Jìng Xū pointed two fingers toward a small hearth. Without a word, a ripple of translucent energy skipped through the air, igniting the remaining candles in a synchronized dance of light.
"Roughly a thousand years."
Lei Ze's breath hitched. A thousand years? That was the stuff of legends, of the tall tales the elders told to keep children from wandering too far into the woods.
Jìng Xū didn't explain. He simply crossed his legs and sank onto the stone floor, his posture perfect. As he entered a meditative state, a wave of spiritual pressure rolled off him.
It hit Lei Ze like a physical wall, nearly knocking the boy off his feet. The air in the cave suddenly felt thick, vibrant, and alive.
"How?" the boy whispered.
"By refining the bone and purging the marrow over centuries," Jìng Xū replied, his eyes closed. "By committing every heartbeat to the path of the Dao."
Lei Ze scrambled closer, dropping to his knees. "What is it? This Dao?"
"The Way," Jìng Xū said, his voice as smooth as polished jade. "The fundamental law that dictates why the stars hang and why the water flows. To follow the Dao is to stop being a leaf blown by the wind and to become the wind itself."
A desperate, hungry fire lit up in Lei Ze's chest. "Can I do it? Can I become a cultivator like you?"
Jìng Xū inhaled, the sound echoing in the small cave.
"You seek power in the Heavens, the Earth, the Shadow, and the Hand. But hear me: the strongest house is not built of stone or wood. It is defined by the empty space within."
He paused, letting the silence settle.
"Cultivation is not the act of gaining strength. It is the brutal process of shedding weakness. Every stream of Qi, whether it is the gold of the sun or the chill of the abyss, must pass through a vessel that is pure."
"Your true measure will not be the force of your strike, but the stillness of your heart when the world around you is screaming."
Lei Ze sat down, mimicking the monk's crossed-legged position. His body was tense, vibrating with an energy he didn't understand.
"You are a vessel for many paths, but the choice is your own. The road ahead of you is paved with jagged glass, boy."
Lei Ze didn't care about the glass. He didn't care about the danger. He wanted the power to ensure he was never the one left kneeling in the mud again.
"Elder Jìng Xū," Lei Ze pleaded, "please. Teach me."
Jìng Xū slowly shook his head. "I cannot be your master."
"But Elder—"
"But I know the place where your path begins."
A spark of raw, unbridled hope flashed in Lei Ze's eyes. "Thank you, Elder!"
Jìng Xū held out a hand, palm up. Lei Ze placed his own small, dirty hand above it.
A soft, golden glow began to spiral around their wrists.
"Feel the Qi," Jìng Xū instructed. "It is in the air, in the stone, in your very breath. Pull it in. Slowly. Sink into the silence of your own mind. Look for your Core."
Lei Ze closed his eyes.
The cave vanished. He felt as though he were standing on the surface of a vast, midnight-blue ocean. The water was perfectly still, supporting his weight with a gentle, buoyant pressure. High above, a single golden sun burned in the darkness, the Relic Bead.
"Absorb," the monk's voice echoed, sounding like it was coming from miles away.
Lei Ze reached out with his mind. He gripped the golden light and pulled.
The energy flooded into him, a searing heat that raced through his veins and hammered against his meridians. His body felt as though it were being pulled apart and stitched back together with threads of fire.
As the initial stage of Body Refinement took hold, he felt the grime of his past self wash away, replaced by a clarity so sharp it hurt.
He opened his eyes, and for the first time, he saw the world not as a graveyard, but as a battlefield.