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2.19 - Thunder God's Shrine
🕑 Added 2024-02-01 23:00:02 +0000 UTCAs He Yu followed Yongnian deeper into the temple, the spiritual weight of the place grew heavier and harder to bear. Just as he was about to say something to the spirit, to protest that he couldn’t handle the weight of wherever they were going, they came to a massive set of iron-banded double doors.
Unlike the rest of the temple, the doors were completely intact and in good repair. The door frame was carved from the living mountain itself and adorned with formation characters. That would be why the swirling storm of qi was so strong here.
Yongnian raised what served as one of his hands, and gestured to the giant doors. They swung open without even a whisper. Beyond lay a grand shrine, dominated by a massive statue carved from a solid block of red jade. The statue depicted a winged god wielding a hammer and drum, his face carved into an expression of fury.
“There are few temples dedicated to the Thunder God,” Yongnian, said. “Sit and cultivate, Child of Storms.”
He Yu couldn’t have obeyed fast enough. This temple, ruined or not, was clearly a place of great power. He’d have been a fool to refuse this opportunity. Once he’d settled into position, he drew from the raging storm of qi that surged all around him, cycling it in accordance with the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment.
As he cultivated, Yongnian spoke. “I have served as the steward of this place for countless mortal lifetimes. Once, this temple’s halls were filled with those who sought to curry the Thunder God’s favor, either to ward themselves from his attention or to strike at those who had wronged them. In those days, the Great Spirits and the myriad Gods of Heaven and Earth were foremost in the thoughts of Man. Arts like the one you practice, Child of Storms, were far more common than they are now.”
As Yongnian spoke, the shape of a technique formed from his words. He Yu couldn’t have said how exactly he grasped a technique from the story of this place’s history, but he was certain it had something to do with the nature of his art. It was a body enforcement technique, and as he committed to memory the pattern it described, a name floated into his thoughts. The Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering.
The art described nine pillars, each made of a column of living lightning. The first pillar of the art, the Foundation Pillar, described the leading edge of a thunderstorm, the brilliance of lightning arcing across the sky, and the flash of heaven’s judgment. Unlike He Yu’s other arts, where each technique functioned mostly as its own component, this art’s techniques built upon one another, combining into a unified whole. Beyond that, he couldn’t comprehend the art. It was far too advanced, and even this glimpse of its nature was almost too much for his spirit.
He was dimly aware that Yongnian still spoke, but he’d long since stopped comprehending the storm spirit’s words. Instead, He Yu found himself apprehending meaning from them that was deeper than what any mortal would have gained. Most of that meaning contained the technique, but there was more.
As he cultivated, the nature of his own qi became more clear to him—both his natural affinity and the ways in which the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace had shaped him. Wind was the strongest aspect that he cultivated, but his spirit was also aligned with water. Then, as a consequence of his cultivation of the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, a nascent spark of heavenly qi had formed in his dantian as well.
As he contemplated these insights, his dantian surged with the rich qi flooding into him from the temple. He Yu compressed his spiritual center, packing it down as he had with every one of his previous breakthroughs. The spark of heaven qi that he’d been unknowingly cultivating flared to brilliance, and surged through his meridians.
As the impurities were forced from his body, the sensation failed to reach him—only in his spiritual awareness could he discern the sparking qi forcing its way through blockages and purifying his body as it impressed itself upon his spirit, and he stepped into the late Second Realm. He had achieved late Foundation.
When He Yu opened his eyes, the stench hit him. He nearly gagged. As he stood and gave Yongnian an apologetic bow, he sensed approval from the spirit.
“You have done well, Child of Storms. Venerable Great Tree was wise to send you to me.”
“Apologies, Honored Spirit, but it seems I have made a mess of your temple,” He Yu said, keenly aware of the puddle of black sludge he now stood in. “Allow me the chance to clean it myself.”
“That is not necessary. As I have said, I am the keeper of this place. I knew what could happen when I brought you here, and I will perform my duty. But come, it seems you are in need of new clothes.”
Clothes from a spirit? He Yu couldn’t help but marvel at his fortune. Even if they were simple, mundane robes, they’d at least be finely made. It didn’t matter, though. His current set of disciple’s robes were ruined. Again. He expressed his thanks and followed Yongnian out of the shrine. As they wound their way through the halls of the ruined temple once more, Yongnian continued to speak.
“You have gained but a glimpse of this art. Upon entering the Fourth Realm, the way to form the next three pillars will become clear.”
A jade slip appeared before He Yu. He snatched it up without a word. An art that required him to reach Golden Core before he could advance it? He couldn’t believe his fortune.
“Is it safe for me to begin cultivating it now?” he asked.
Yongnian made a sound like an affirmative hum, laced with the crackling of lightning. “Cultivating the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering Art now would be most advisable.”
Well, He Yu certainly wasn’t going to argue with that.
At length, Yongnian led them to a room that, much like the shrine at the heart of the temple, seemed untouched by the passage of time that had ruined the rest of this place. It was, all things considered, rather cozy. A stove, sustained by formation script, burned merrily in the corner. A table was set with a fine porcelain tea set. Bundles of herbs hung from drying racks along the walls, all giving off the potent qi of high-grade spiritual medicines. Against another wall stood a finely crafted wardrobe. Yongnian crossed the room and opened it, withdrawing robes of dark gray silk patterned with gold thread depicting dragons curling among and around billowing storm clouds. It didn’t take an expert’s eye to determine that these were easily of a quality comparable to the clothes that Li Heng or Tan Xiaoling wore.
He Yu’s eyes went wide. “I can’t accept these,” he began.
Yongnian simply presented the robes to him, holding them out with both hands.
He Yu accepted the gift and offered his thanks, then slipped into the garments. They were easily the finest clothes he’d ever worn. As he was putting them on he noticed the formation characters stitched into the the inside hems. While the robes themselves felt virtually like wearing the clouds themselves, a spiritual weight settled over him when he finished putting them on.
“These are not so precious that you need worry,” Yongnian said. “The enchantments mostly keep them clean, and will also repair any damage they suffer over time. There are some other minor functions, but nothing worth speaking of at any length.”
Not so precious. That the spirit could simply hand him a treasure—even a minor one, if his words were to be believed—was something that He Yu could barely wrap his head around.
“This one offers his sincerest thanks,” He Yu said, cupping a fist in his hand and offering a bow.
“Your manners are impeccable, Child of Storms. However, our time is at an end. I suspect that your companions have begun to wonder what has become of you. Return.”
Yongnian waved an insubstantial hand as he spoke the final word, and space twisted around He Yu. When the world righted itself, he stood at the entrance to the temple. It was night, and the moon hung overhead. One look told him he’d been gone far longer than he’d anticipated. When he’d left at Old Guo’s direction, the moon had been nearly full. Now, it had shrunk down to a crescent.
He shook his head and began the trek back down the mountain, still not quite able to believe what had happened. Finding a ruined temple, then treating with a spirit? Breaking through—if only within a realm—at a locus of potent qi? Receiving a treasure from a spirit as a gift? This was the stuff of legend. The sorts of happenings that had filled his head before he’d joined the sect, and that he’d honestly begun to wonder if he’d ever get to experience. Now that he had, it was even better than he could have hoped.
As he made his way back to his campsite, He Yu flexed his spirit. The difference was about the same as when he’d advanced from early to middle Foundation. Which was to say, not much. At least not compared to the massive difference he’d felt when advancing from the First Realm to the Second. It was, however, a matter of degree. Elder Wen’s lectures had told him as much, and Li Heng had confirmed the same after his breakthrough earlier in their adventure. Intellectually, he knew he was stronger than he’d ever been. His qi reserves were greater, and his spirit would be more closely aligned with his nature than ever. His Way was long, and he’d a great deal further to go still.
He still indulged himself on the way down the mountain. He activated the Sky Dragon’s Flight and used the wind-aspected technique to leap hundreds of feet down the slope at a time. The robes Yongnian had gifted him made a noticeable difference in his ability to both control the technique and in the amount of qi it consumed. A quick once-over of the formation characters indicated that there were still other functions, just as Yongnian had said. He could explore them later. For now, he needed to get back to his friends.
When He Yu returned to the clearing where they’d spent the past months living with Old Guo, he wished that he had some means of preserving the looks on his companions’ faces forever. Yan Shirong gaped at him with wholly unconcealed envy, and Li Heng displayed a mixture of surprise, approval, and amusement.
“You’ll have to tell us where you’ve been, little brother,” Li Heng said, clapping He Yu on the shoulder as he approached.
“Indeed you will,” Yan Shirong agreed, the envy giving way to avarice.
“I don’t know that you’ll benefit quite as much as I did,” he admitted. “My journey took me to an old temple dedicated to the Thunder God.”
Before either of them could respond, Old Guo emerged from his hut. “Good, you’ve returned,” he said. “And it seems that I was correct to send you away. Yan Shirong will join you and Li Heng in the late Second Realm any day now. We have just over a month before you’ll need to be on your way.”
Had he really been gone that long? He Yu shook his head. Old Guo was right—King Hao was still out there, awaiting justice.
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