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3.1 - Welcome to the Inner Sect
🕑 Added 2024-04-13 22:00:05 +0000 UTCThe first few days He Yu spent in the inner sect were spent in convalescence and cultivation. His wounds had all healed thanks to the Qi Alignment pill Zhang Lifen had given him, but he still needed rest.
On the third day, he received a surprise visit from Li Heng and Princess Tan.
“Welcome to the inner sect,” Li Heng said as they stepped into He Yu’s courtyard.
His courtyard. It wasn’t something he’d gotten used to yet, having not only a whole house to himself but also one this large. Granted, it had only been three days, but the idea of it was more than he’d been prepared for.
“Great,” he said. “I mean thanks. I should make you two tea, right?”
Tan Xiaoling arched an eyebrow and gave him that half-smirk of hers. “If you’d like.”
“You’ll learn soon enough,” Li Heng said with a soft laugh. “But yes, I’ll take some.”
As He Yu busied himself with the duties of being a good host, he cursed himself for being so awkward. Still, he’d have thought that with the better sense of those around him—and the greater self-assurance—that came with his cultivation he would have gotten a bit better at this. At least his friends didn’t seem to mind his relative lack of social graces.
They passed the time with polite conversation, mostly centering around plans for the next few months. The three of them were all of a similar mind about what they needed or wanted. To reach the peak of the Third Realm and begin the preparations for forming their Golden Core. From what He Yu had been able to gather, the breakthrough from the Third to the Fourth Realm was one of the most difficult. It was also the most important.
The difficulty in forming a Golden Core lay primarily with the fact that each cultivator had to do so in a way that was more or less unique to them. While there were certain general principles one could follow, it was the specifics that differed. Often one wouldn’t discover precisely what was necessary until the breakthrough had begun. This often led to the cultivator being unprepared, thus forming a Golden Core of a lower quality. This was one reason that most cultivators could spend decades at the peak of Body Refining, with many never advancing past it.
The importance of the Fourth Realm breakthrough was tied to the varying quality of the Golden Core a cultivator formed. An immortal who had gained a firm understanding of themselves and their Way was more likely to discern the methods they needed to form a higher quality Golden Core. The higher the quality of one’s breakthrough, the easier time one would have in future advancements. By contrast, a low-quality Golden Core might block a cultivator from breaking through to higher realms altogether.
This wasn’t to say that advancement past Golden Core was easy. Quite the opposite. From what He Yu had gathered, the first three realms were the easy part—and they were very nearly behind him.
As Li Heng and Tan Xiaoling were making to leave, the Jade Princess turned to He Yu and gave him a salute.
“There’s one last thing before I go,” she said. From her storage treasure, she produced a guandao.
It was his guandao—the one that he’d bought prior to the tournament, and that she’d destroyed with that massive spear of fiery black qi she used.
For a moment, He Yu was speechless. “How?” was all he managed to ask. He couldn’t have said why, but he’d grown rather attached to the weapon in the short time he’d owned it. It may have something to do with the fact that it was the first real weapon he’d ever owned. It would have stayed relevant well into the Fourth Realm, and could have become a genuine treasure had he wanted to invest enough wealth into it. While he hadn’t been able to think too much about its loss at the time, during his convalescence the weapon’s destruction had begun to weigh on him.
Tan Xiaoling held the reforged weapon out to him. “I collected the pieces after the fight. I also took the liberty of commissioning some enhancements for it. Should we exchange techniques again in the future, I think you’ll find it more than adequate for the task.”
He Yu saluted and bowed more than was truly necessary once he’d sent the weapon to his storage treasure. “You have my sincerest thanks, Sect Sister.”
“Think nothing of it,” Tan Xiaoling said. “It was an honor to face you in the tournament, and it was the least I could do to show my respect.”
With that, the two of them left He Yu to himself. He spent a good portion of the afternoon practicing with his reforged guandao before retiring for the night.
The next morning, He Yu awoke to a messenger construct carved in the likeness of a heron perched on the headboard of his bed. It held a slip of paper in its beak, and he had a good idea of who it was from. It would be just like Zhang Lifen to call for him the one night a week he typically slept now.
He plucked the slip from the construct and read the simple calligraphy within. As he’d suspected, it was a short note from Zhang Lifen instructing him to meet her at a training area on the inner sect mountain. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the message—he was finally, after nearly a year, going to get some real training from his mentor.
Upon stepping inside the formation barrier that surrounded the training area, he found Zhang Lifen seated in meditation at the far end. The training area itself was similar to the ones on the outer sect mountain. Large standing stones carved with formation characters rimmed the perimeter, and the area itself was paved with flagstones reinforced with another formation script. Once inside the barrier, it was immediately apparent that this script work was of considerably greater power than those of the outer sect.
Zhang Lifen opened her eyes at his approach and rose in a single smooth motion. “Hit me,” she said.
“Pardon?” He Yu asked. He’d expected some sort of preamble. An explanation of what they were supposed to do. Or maybe that she would ask him what sort of training he wanted. This simple command caught him off guard.
“You’re slow,” she said. Her voice was clipped, but not overly harsh. All traces of the playful affect she normally wore were gone.
Once it was apparent that she wasn’t going to elaborate further, he asked, “Should I use a weapon?”
“If you think you can strike me without it, you’re more than welcome to try.”
He Yu shrugged and produced his guandao from his storage treasure. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to use any techniques or not. She hadn’t told him to, but neither had she forbade it. The expectant look she gave him made him think better of asking.
Drawing the weapon back, he opted to save the techniques for when he really needed them. It couldn’t be that hard to simply land a blow. Zhang Lifen hadn’t even adopted a proper combat stance.
He swung, and missed.
The blade sailed within a hair’s breadth of her. He Yu couldn’t have said when she moved—only that a strike that ought to have solidly connected simply didn’t.
“Given what I observed during the tournament, I thought it prudent to begin here,” she said, launching into a lecture on her plans for his immediate future. “I had to consult with Master Cai to develop a suitable regimen, as I am unfamiliar with your principle art. I have since learned that the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace consists of three foundational techniques; the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, a combined cultivation and perception art; the Sky Dragon’s Flight, a wind-aspected movement technique; and the Spring Rain Mirror, a water aspected defensive technique. Why have you not begun cultivating the Spring Rain Mirror?”
As she spoke, He Yu continued with his attempts to strike her. She avoided each of them as effortlessly as she seemed to do everything else. After the first couple of attempts, he activated the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment. While it didn’t help him comply with her demand, it did allow him to perceive the moment in which she moved to avoid his strikes. It was so subtle and fluid, that he didn’t think anyone below her level of advancement would be able to catch it without the aid of a technique similar to his own.
“I haven’t been able to learn the technique,” He Yu said. His guandao slammed into the flagstones and rebounded back after another failed overhand attack. Already his frustration was beginning to get the better of him.
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” he said as he launched into a series of looping sweeps.
Zhang Lifen drifted between each strike as effortlessly as water tumbling down the side of a hill. “What are the principal lessons of the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment?”
It was difficult to focus on all the insights he’d gained over the past year. Especially while he tried to land a blow on someone who may as well not even be there. As he thought, he began to cycle his qi in accordance with the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment. Not in the simple way like when he activated it as a perception technique, but in the deeper manner that he used it while cultivating.
He saw first his desire, the thing that had started him on his path in the first place. To be a hero of legend felt like such a simple, foolish thing. Shouldn’t he have some grander purpose? A part of him recoiled. No, he realized. A purpose such as his was more a means than an end. The first pebble that shifted to cause an avalanche, the first gathering clouds on the horizon heralding a summer storm.
Another flurry of strikes flashed towards Zhang Lifen. She avoided each of them easily, but had gone silent and now regarded him with a heavy intensity. Wind had begun to curl along the length of He Yu’s blade.
He recalled the bodies that King Hao and his bandits had left to rot in the sun. The face of the young bandit, barely as old as He Yu, frozen in terror as he saw death falling upon him.
He recalled not knowing what it meant to be just—what it meant to be a hero. He recalled a certain insight in that regard. To discern justice he first had to develop the judgment of an emperor.
As he tried to sort through the insights he’d gleaned, the lack of answers only caused his frustration to grow. His strikes became more haphazard. Less refined. The wind curling around his guandao grew turbulent.
For months now he’d been cultivating the art, but he was no closer to developing that judgment. His frustration broke like a flood breaching a dam. If only he could know. If only he could catch a glimpse of what that meant, he was certain things would become clear.
“So close,” Zhang Lifen said, avoiding his attacks yet again. “At least you now know where to look. The path to the Fourth Realm is difficult, and you will walk it largely on your own. I will give you what guidance I can on the way, but the burden is yours alone.”
He Yu’s shoulders slumped and he let his arms go limp. His guandao vanished back into his storage treasure. “This one apologizes, Master Zhang.”
Zhang Lifen arched an eyebrow at him. “What have I told you about that? Besides, there’s nothing to apologize for. You did far better than I’d expected you would, both in your attempts to strike me and the appraisal of your insights.”
“But I failed in them both,” he said, still feeling rather sullen.
“Was not the first lesson I taught that defeat and failure aren’t the same? You only fail if you give up. I’d thought that after your fight with Tan Xiaoling, you’d have realized as much.”
The memory of Tan Xiaoling’s words returned to him then, and he looked up at Zhang Lifen.
Before he could speak, she smiled. “I’d wondered when you’d get around to asking about that.”
