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Chapter 358: Fallen Genius Mirror
🕑 Added 2024-01-26 17:36:01 +0000 UTCThe octopus Envoy led Jack to the back of the Dao Chamber, to one of two normal-looking steel doors. They didn’t lead to Dao rooms, like most other doors here, but just to a different part of the building. Her tentacle turned the knob, revealing a wide but short room.
“The Fallen Genius Mirror,” she said, letting Jack through.
A large mirror covered the back wall. It was twelve feet wide but only six feet tall, as if several people were meant to look at themselves here. Besides the two of them and the mirror, the room was empty.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“Better experienced than explained. Just know that this mirror is a precious artifact of the Cathedral; it is meant to show cultivators the breadth of the world, as well as help them find a path to success.”
Jack approached the mirror, observing his crystal-clear reflection. He could use a shave—and a hair-cut. “Do I just place my hand on it?”
“Precisely. As soon as you touch the mirror, your mind will be presented with a variety of visions. The more stable your resolve and the greater your willpower, the more you will be able to benefit, and the sooner you will be done. Also, the first time using the mirror is the most effective, so I urge you to try your best.”
Jack nodded. When it came to resolve and willpower, he was confident he wouldn’t lose to anyone.
“I will leave you now. Once I do, the door will lock, and it will only be able to open from the inside. Of course, please return as soon as you are done—more people may arrive to use the mirror.”
“Understood. Thank you for the explanations, Envoy.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
Dragging her slimy tentacles over the floor, the octopus Envoy slid out of the room and shut the room behind her. Jack was instantly covered in darkness. It didn’t matter—thanks to his Dao perception, vision was nearly obsolete.
Let’s see what this is all about, he thought, stretching his hand forward. His palm reached a smooth, cool surface. The mirror was pleasant to the touch.
A tendril of consciousness extended from the mirror, seeking entry into Jack’s mind. It felt invasive—had he messed up?
In the next moment, the mirror’s insistence grew extreme. All of Jack’s mental defenses were demolished. His mind was swarmed by visions, and his senses were cut off. He could neither feel nor move. He was completely alone.
He braced himself. When nothing bad happened for a few seconds, he finally relaxed.
This is why the door locks, he figured. In this state, I am defenseless.
The world brightened again. Jack was floating through the air, a ghost with neither form nor power. Only his senses remained. He was an observer. The world around him felt completely real—from smell to sight, everything was in line, like in every Dao Vision he’d experienced.
He turned his gaze downward, finding that he floated over a desolate black swamp. In the skies below him, but still above the swamp, a youth faced down three opponents. This youth’s dark hair was floating wildly, his robes were fluttering, and his gaze was intense like it wanted to bore into the world. His aura was staggering—this was clearly a dragon amongst men, an elite of the world.
The three people opposite him seemed devilish. They were three women, all sharing a single eye—their remaining eye sockets were hollow, and their skin was dry and wrinkled as if about to tear.
All four of these people were early D-Grades.
The youth charged. He revealed a flaming sword that could burn the heavens. The witches cackled all at once, each drawing their own weapons. As the battle began, Jack found that the two sides were equally matched—the youth was far stronger than each witch by herself, but the three of them battled in perfect unison, shoring up each other’s weaknesses.
Half a minute after the battle started, the witches shrieked. “You’re forcing us!” they shouted in one voice. The one holding the eye shattered it in her grip, releasing a large specter. The youth roared to the heavens, turning the flames of his swords from red to purple as he slashed down.
Specter and flames collided in a massive shockwave that uprooted several trees below. Finally, the specter narrowly came out on top, piercing through the flames and the youth’s chest. Blood spurted out. The proud youth fell from the heavens, smashing hard into the ground and being swiftly devoured by the specter.
A proud elite had just…fallen. It felt undeserved. Wrong.
Before Jack could consider this further, the scenery changed. He was now over an active volcano, watching a red-haired girl battle against a muscular old man. While both of them were D-Grades, her cultivation was far inferior—she was only an early D-Grade to his late D-Grade. The only reason she could fight him evenly was the volcano into which she’d lured him, using it to amplify her fire Dao.
This girl was clearly another heaven-shaking elite. She fought well, expertly applying her Dao to break through her opponent’s overwhelming force. She had all sorts of trump cards and genius maneuvers.
However, fighting this man remained a huge gamble on her part. After a long and fierce battle, she finally made a mistake. The old man teleported behind her, sticking his hand through her guts. Jack watched the girl’s eyes widen in disbelief before all life left her body.
The scenery changed again.
From one to the next, Jack watched many battles. Some contained E-Grade cultivators, while others were between immortals. There were even the rare F- and C-Grade fighters. What they all had in common was that at least one side of each conflict displayed a heroic youth—these people used their power to go against the odds and reach for opportunities beyond their level.
But they almost always lost. It was natural. They were defying all odds—it would be impressive if they did win.
Yet, somehow, Jack felt it wasn’t right. These people were all extremely skilled. He expected them to prevail regardless, using the opportunities they secured to soar even higher into the cultivation world.
Were these the fallen geniuses of the mirror?
After a while, the pattern changed. Now, heroic youths occupied both sides of each conflict, ruthlessly tearing into each other. Every battle was to the death. Blood flew. Each of these people believed that their destiny was greater than anyone else’s, but in every battle, one side perished. Jack even saw some people win one battle only to lose in a later vision.
Across the visions, the amount of dead heroes was staggering. Their corpses could form mountains of bones, seas of blood. Each of them had the potential to reach the heavens, but they all perished mid-way, dying in one of their many steps to glory. Many times, the battles that killed them weren’t even significant—they died to random opponents at random places, in what felt like minor encounters of their lives.
A deep sense of regret rose inside Jack. All these bright people, dead… How cruel was the world of cultivation.
Could I have been one of them? he wondered.
How many times had he come close to death? Innumerable. Ever since the Integration, at the Forest of the Strong, almost every encounter he had was life-threatening. His survival had been completely against the odds, but though he knew that, he’d never realized just how easy it would have been for things to go wrong.
Knowing was one thing, but seeing was another.
As Jack saw these geniuses fall, he imagined himself in their place. Maybe the black wolf of the Forest of the Strong didn’t ignore him the first time they met. Maybe the rock bear had gotten the best of him. Maybe the goblin shaman had burned him to death, or maybe the very first goblin had gouged out his eyes before he could fight back. Maybe he’d frozen solid in the Ice Pond, his body a sculpture for future explorers to discover.
His exploits had come with numerous benefits, but they were usually made against the odds. If all of those risks were added together, the chances of him surviving were negligible.
And it wasn’t even that; many times, it wasn’t his skill that saved him, but pure coincidence. When the Hounds of the Animal Kingdom had found him on the Trampling Ram, the only reason he’d survived was because Gan Salin happened to be there and happened to have had a change of heart. If he hadn’t luckily found the Life Drop in the third ring of Trial Planet, he would have never defeated the Final Guardian—he would have never broken through to the D-Grade as quickly, and he would have failed to defeat the overseer.
Jack didn’t discount his own achievements. He’d almost always made the right calls, fought well, made good plans, and used his willpower to emerge victorious when the world was against him. He had seized opportunities that others couldn’t even fathom. He had worked extremely hard and defeated everyone in his way. He had been a fist shooting ever forward.
Even when it came to fallen geniuses, he wasn’t a stranger. He’d felled many of them himself: Rufus Emberheart, Lord Longsword, Maximus Lonihor, the planetary overseer… All sorts of illustrious characters had been bested and often killed by him. Jack had emerged victorious through every clash so far, his destiny shooting into the heavens.
But, for every genius that triumphed, a million failed. Every genius that Jack defeated had defeated numerous others, who had defeated numerous others. It was a mountain, a pyramid—and he was always a fine line away from turning into just another fallen genius, a pile of bones on another person’s path. The people he saw in these visions were all near his level of talent, but they fell left and right like random nobodies. It could have easily been him.
He stood on a huge mountain of corpses and coincidences.
Jack was chilled to the bone. Again, while he knew all these, it was only now that their tremendous weight landed. If he wanted to continue chasing the peak of cultivation, he would keep walking the same road. He would have to defy the odds and take all sorts of risks. The mountain beneath his feet would keep growing, and he could become part of it at any moment.
Over the course of his remaining cultivation path, the chances of him falling somewhere, anywhere, were sky-high. It was almost a certainty.
Do I want to go that way? he asked himself. He thought about Vivi and their children, the professor, and all his friends on Earth. He thought about Brock, treading the exact same path as himself.
To continue cultivating as he was, he would need to consign himself to death, which would affect all those people. Was he willing to do that? Or should he choose the safer road, cultivating peacefully until his potential eventually ran out?
No, he realized. I can’t.
The Life Drop was in his soul. He was certain it couldn’t be removed without killing him. If he fell behind the curve, the Church would never let him keep such a precious artifact—they would split him open to give it to someone more worthy.
He was already on the road of no return. He had to reach the peak or die trying.
However, even if he could turn back, he wouldn’t. The Fist inside him was clear, and so was his own will. What was the problem with death? Even if he fell in a far-off land, buried in the dirt as just another fallen genius, never to see his friends and family again or enjoy life, that was fine. He would never stop advancing. A life without fighting, without purpose, was an empty life.
To him, it was a fate worse than death.
Jack was a Fist, and a Fist he would remain. Shooting ever forward.
Jack’s mind hardened. His resolve, which had momentarily wavered, was reinforced. It didn’t matter what the world threw at him. It didn’t matter how difficult his path become. He would climb the mountain of corpses, endure any pain. He wasn’t advancing for comfort or the privilege of being a strong cultivator. He was advancing because that’s what gave his life meaning—it made him happier than anything before the Integration. He felt alive.
No matter what happened, he would never stop.
But now, he was more aware of the mountain of bones beneath his feet. His mind stirred. Thank you, he thought to all of the people who had fallen on his path. I am grateful. With your sacrifice… I, alone, will reach the peak of cultivation.
The mirror had kept showing Jack visions, but he’d long stopped watching. Finally, as his mind was set, the visions dispersed. The mirror released him from its grasp, and Jack opened his eyes in the real world, shining with the weight of realization.
A veil had been pulled off his eyes. His soul had matured further, and he already had many new insights to work with. The resolve he’d just exhibited was relevant to his Dao of the Fist and how, through him, it manifested in the world—the crux of the C-Grade.
This mirror…is not simple, he thought, giving the mirror a final glance. It remained empty, showing only his reflection, but it had actually helped him a lot. His Dao felt more stable than before—the weight of understanding had forged his soul and pulled it closer to reality.
Turning towards the door, Jack opened it, welcoming the Dao Chamber again. The octopus Envoy glanced at him. “What happened?” she asked. “Did you change your mind? Are you not going to attempt the mirror?”
“I’m done,” he replied.
“Already?”
Comments
Namorat
Some people seem incomprehensible to read and understand, amazing.
Kurt Nighfind
Agreed, this chapter didn't need to exist. What was the point?
Nick Nicholson
Seemed kinda pointless
