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Chapter 222: The Dao of Jack Rust
🕑 Added 2023-06-16 17:36:04 +0000 UTCAs promised, five straight chapters to finish the book. Dodging massive cliffhangers like these is one of the perks of being a patron ;)
See you at the end!
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Jack sat cross-legged and prepared himself. Slowly, the world fell away, leaving behind only him, his resolve, and the Thousand Essence Flower.
He had to succeed. He had to brave the risk and break through. This was it. After this moment, he would either rise to the top…or fall to hell.
A little more time passed. Jack’s resolve strengthened to its limit, though there really wasn’t much space to go—he was already as hyped as he could be. His mind calmed down like a still lake, giving him a clear view of his soul—the Dao Seed of the Fist—and the four Dao Roots that were one with it.
After today, these would not be inheritances of some greater Dao. It would all be his own, personal interpretation of the world—a Dao that belonged only to him, Jack Rust.
Deep breaths. His chest rose and fell, filled with the verdant Dao that suffused the air of this place. He had rested for two hours beforehand, so he had already fully recovered from the battle against Old Man Spirit. He was at his absolute strongest. There was no better time.
Jack did not open his eyes. Brock and Old Man Spirit were nearby, watching him. The increased gravity bore down on him, agitating his body and drawing out its potential. The breeze was peaceful, and the air filled with power.
He opened his mouth and swallowed the Thousand Essence Flower.
It was like an explosion went off in his stomach. He lost his breath and almost toppled from his seating position. Instantly, his mind and soul were overwhelmed by understanding.
This was nothing like his previous experience with the Dao Sprouting Pill. The pill had given him increased awareness, like a psychedelic medicine that ripped away everything else to expose the purest form of the Dao. It was useful, but at the end of the day, it was something that only enhanced his own power.
The Thousand Essence Flower was completely different. It didn’t reveal anything new. Instead, it felt like a thousand wise fairies had just been unleashed in his bloodstream, probing and understanding everything. He quickly opened his soul and let them in, at which point they started inspecting his Dao.
Jack didn’t wait for them to finish. He immediately started his breakthrough. He fell into his soul world—it was completely barren this time, a limitless dark expanse with a single purple sun and four bright stars surrounding it. Motes of light also hovered everywhere—the spirits of a thousand immortals, here to assist him.
Jack took a deep breath. He raised his arms like a god—which, in this space, he kind of was. The sun shuddered. The stars flickered and changed their trajectories. The motes of light pulsed with excitement, realizing what was happening.
Who am I? he finally asked the question. His Dao rose to the task. So did his soul. The motes of light helped him, pooling their minds together with his to help him jump to the right conclusions.
Jack saw a vision of himself before the System. He was moving forward in life but staying at the same spot. There was little sense of progress or fulfillment. The world was a mundane, gray prison, and he was powerless to do anything about it—both in mind and body.
That powerlessness was expressed in his Dao of Weakness. It was his past, and the future of his enemies.
When the System arrived, he broke those shackles. He fought for his life, and it was hard. Many times, he almost died. Many more, he almost wished he had, but he always pressed on. He saw every threat as an opportunity to grow, and slowly but surely, he carved out a place for himself in the Dungeon of the Strong with his indomitable will as the chisel. From then on, no matter what dangers assaulted him or how desperate the situation was, he always relied on that will and never buckled, never hesitated, always charged forward with roaring laughter.
That was his Dao of Indomitable Will. The cornerstone of his strength.
Through indomitable will, he gained power—and, with it, the ability to direct his fate. After escaping the Forest of the Strong, he was no longer weak. He was qualified to take the reins of his life and the world. To stand at the very front and make everyone else revolve around him. To impose his will. Even after the Integration Tournament, when he arrived at the genius-filled Trial Planet, he still exercised that power and always took the initiative, until he eventually outgrew everyone around him and conquered the previously impossible peak. He dominated the world.
That was his Dao of Power. The state he would always be in, until the day he died.
And, around all those, stretched the Dao of Life. It was a blanket that framed everything. It was chaos wrapped in order, like the evolutionary race of animals on Earth. The strong won and directed the world, the weak felt pain, and there was no rule beyond survival.
The world of cultivators was close to that state. Laws and rules mattered little before unsurpassable strength. The weak had no right to speak, only the mercy of the strong. These ideals weren’t just, by modern standards, nor were they something Jack enjoyed, which is why he avoided bullying the weak. But they remained the purest representation of life, before it was constrained by laws. A chaos of struggle, framed by the order of everyone’s desire to survive. To deny this way of life would be to remain weak.
That was the Dao of Life. The only Dao that Jack hadn’t fully comprehended before, but finally understood after spending countless hours meditating on it in the sealed cave, and with the assistance of the Life Drop. Even if the Dao Root of Life hadn’t been forced on him, his current insights would be enough to obtain and fuse it.
And, of course, at the core of everything stood the Dao of the Fist. The path which he followed, which gave him everything else. He hadn’t always known about the other Daos—but the fist had been with him from the very start; his guideline, his weapon, his resolve.
Jack couldn’t see it, but a purple hurricane was slowly rising around his body, a focal point of energy. The more it revolved, the larger it grew. Brock was staring with wide eyes. Old Man Spirit was smiling.
Jack remained completely focused inside himself.
He had always been a fist. Maybe that is why, before the System came, he felt so trapped. Why he thrived now. Why he loved this world, despite its pains and troubles.
The fist was the center of his existence, the life he aspired to live. When following that path, he was happy beyond the shadow of a doubt. His chest was filled with warmth. There were no doubts in his mind, no lingering regrets, no second thoughts. He was simply happy—fulfilled.
Of course, the Fist didn’t apply everywhere. That was where the rest of his Daos came in. Indomitable Will was the very foundation of the fist—the body of the iceberg that always remained below the surface, but without it, the tip could not exist. Power was how his inner fist was expressed in the outer world—the result of his actions, and what dictated whether his fist or the enemy would break first. Life was the field he played at—the true, unbreakable rules of the world that gave everything meaning. Finally, weakness was his past, what birthed and accentuated his fist, as well as the state of the enemy when he stood before them—it completed his understanding of the world, not just himself.
These four Dao Roots gathered around his fist and perfected it. Turned it from just a path into a complete understanding of the world, a system of philosophy through which everything could be expressed. It was a viable way to see the complete spectrum of reality. A partial understanding that would never break. A lens that would never come short. One of the many irrefutable Truths.
A truth that belonged completely to Jack.
He snapped out of his thoughts, returning to his soul space, which was no longer dark. His Dao Seed, that floating fist, shone brilliantly. Purple light now covered every inch of this space. The four Dao Roots, which were previously shaped as stars, were bathed in that light. They began to elongate.
From dots in space, they turned to lines, then widened. Before long, they were fingers, each a different color. They came together and wrapped around the Dao of the Fist, which had turned into a finger shorter but thicker than the rest—the thumb. All together, the five of them formed a complete hand, and then they slowly clenched.
Five fingers to make a fist.
The shape solidified. It was the realest thing Jack had ever seen. He could only watch in awe as this spectacular occurrence was happening inside his soul. There was no longer a sun or stars. All that existed was a colossal fist—it had a purple thumb, and fingers that were each silver, blue, green, and black, all with a slight purplish hue.
His Dao Roots had wrapped around his Dao Seed to form a complete understanding, a system that would never add or lose anything. The fingers clenched further, eliminating any gaps. The process was complete. From now on, if this understanding was even slightly imperfect, there was nothing Jack could do—it would forever remain that way. On the other hand, if it was perfect, if it really was a complete understanding of the world…he would become an immortal.
The motes of light cheered. Their job was done.
Suddenly, the giant, multicolored fist thumped. It became real, like it finally came to the fore—so real that it couldn’t possibly exist just inside his soul.
A new force suddenly appeared. It was like a door had been opened to let in the infinite wonders of the universe. A stream of power came from nowhere and smashed into the fist. Now, Jack was just a watcher.
This stream was not the tribulation Old Man Spirit had mentioned—it was a natural part of this breakthrough. The universe had sensed that someone was forming their own Dao, but it couldn’t permit an incomplete Dao to exist. It had to make sure Jack’s was up to the task.
This was a similar situation as the thousand visions he had to resolve when he reached the E-Grade, except far harder. The thousand visions back then had only been a small test, like a professor giving an exam to her students. This one, however, was the real deal, as if every professor in the world was peer-reviewing a student’s paper.
There weren't just a thousand visions. They were infinite—or, at least, far more than Jack could count. The universe summoned its power to pit Jack’s new Dao against every possible scenario in existence. If it couldn’t properly respond to any of them, if it had the slightest imperfection or inner contradiction, the universe would not accept it, and Jack would never become an immortal.
What’s worse, Jack could not do anything about it. This was just the highest powers in the universe scrutinizing his Dao. All he could do was watch, with his heart in his throat.
At least, he had the assistance of a thousand immortals. With their help, he could only hope that the end result was perfect.
The stream of power intensified. Every Dao out there lent a part of itself, creating its own little test for Jack’s Dao. His soul was suddenly awash by every color in existence, and the awe was so strong that Jack barely resisted the urge to kneel. The colors also reached the motes of light and instantly extinguished them—as that happened, Jack felt anger building in the colors, as if the existence of these motes of light was an insult. Like he was cheating.
Time lost its meaning. Jack had no idea how long this process took. Eventually, however, the stream of power began to dim. It went from a torrent to a river, then a trickle, before it was finally extinguished.
Jack held his breath as he stared at his Dao, looking for the slightest crack.
But there was none. His Dao remained whole. It had survived the onslaught. It had passed the test. The universe had acknowledged it as worthy of sitting on the highest throne—to become a completely new Dao, on par with all the minor Daos of the world. From now on, people could cultivate the Dao of Jack Rust.
Jack felt extreme joy. He wanted to scream and shout, to cheer, to celebrate, to pump his hands in the air.
Except, something was wrong. His breakthrough was not complete. He had not reached the D-Grade. A thin layer separated his Dao from fully coming into existence, like it was held back by an invisible force. He couldn’t even access its powers anymore.
Yet, the breakthrough should be complete. The test had already occurred. Which could only mean one thing.
Jack opened his eyes in the real world. He saw the remains of a purple hurricane dissipating around him, as well as the excited eyes of Brock and Old Man Spirit just outside. However, he didn’t smile yet; he only looked up, at the ceiling of the Final Ring, where, despite all impossibility, a storm was slowly brewing.
The tribulation was coming.
Comments
Nathan Sto
I can just see someone cultivating the dao or jack rust saying "I am Jack Rust" similarly to how Jack often describes himself as the fist. aww man, it gets even better. "At the core of him, he had always been jack rust. Perhaps that's why..." "And there, in the center of his soul, was a clenched Jack Rust..." "Jack Rust filled his vision, more real than anything else." (dao vision) "He was merely channeling a small piece of Jack rust." (describing a mortal's dao) "He would do ____ because he *was* Jack Rust, and Jack Rust did not ___" (from the perspective of someone who was not jack rust.) "What's your dao" "I cultivate Jack Rust" (integration tournament)
Jumping Flounder
so weakness is the pinky, life the ring finger, will the middle and power is the pointer finger
