Sky Pride

Tian controlled the urge to make tea. No need to torment her with reminders of the illusion. If there were right words to say, he didn’t know them. What a strange thing to be helpless in the face of- the fear of causing someone else’s pain in the future. Anxiety. The yang to his depressive yin. Liren knew all the things he would tell her, and it didn’t matter. Not just now.

A thought connected. She had been working for the disciplinary squad before Burning Heaven collected them, drafting revisions to the disciplinary code. If that process went anything like the way the meeting in the Hall of Harmony had, she had to be feeling frustrated and hopeless. It was a problem she definitionally couldn’t punch her way through. Guilt over her family, frustration at reforming the sect, a growing sense of anger and helplessness- he could guess the crack in her heart Mourning Cry attacked.

“How are the revisions to the disciplinary code coming?” He asked.

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then snorted. “What revisions? Martial Aunt Yi demands powerful reforms, then anyone who proposes a change is scolded half to death. Then the next day she slams her books on the table and demands to know why we haven’t made any progress.”

“That would drive me crazy in a hurry.” Tian shook his head.

“Oh you have no idea. Remember I told you about the ‘Incident?’”

“The fight that broke out over changing the requirement for disciplinary squad members being hereditary disciples? Slightly.” It had been mentioned once over dinner. Both had just rolled their eyes at the impossible idiocy of it all, and moved on to important topics like which wild mushroom tasted best.

“Well, it came up again a few more times. The problem was, and still somewhat is, that all the people working on the revision were Disciplinary Squad members, and someone, don’t know who or if their surname was Wang, pointed out that ‘Asking the dogs to guard the meat didn’t work last time, so why would it work now?’”

“Ah.” He could decipher that particular metaphor. Tian could imagine the high red on the neck of the various seniors hearing that particular line, but what could they say? It was plainly true. It wouldn’t be surprising if the Heavenly People were murmuring the same things amongst themselves. Having it said publicly by juniors was a different matter.

“I don’t have the inside story, but from what I have seen? Nobody thought that deeply about asking the Disciplinary Squad to review the sect rules. Who else would do it?” Liren couldn’t even muster a sardonic grin. “Not like there are a lot of spare hands to help, and it does require training. Writing regulations is harder than you would think. Lots and lots of unintended consequences to consider.”

“But there is a big difference between the Disciplinary Squad choosing to open up the rule making to people outside the Squad, and being forced to.” Tian concluded. “So she’s digging in her heels, stressed that she’s not producing results and furious at being forced to make changes that should have been put into place by her predecessors centuries ago.”

Liren nodded. “Feeling blamed for every bad thing the Squad ever did, and by extension, the discipline failures of the whole sect.”

Tian could more or less imagine it. “And now you are feeling guilty and frustrated.”

“En.” Liren buried her face in her hands. “Wanting to lash out.”

“But you are keeping control of it.”

“For now.”

Tian sighed, inhaled, exhaled, and began to cultivate.

“Are you cultivating right now?!”

“Yes?”

“Right now?”

“You are going to be feeling like crap for a long while, and I’m not going anywhere. Would you prefer I read a book?”

“Tian Zihao, is this your idea of making me feel better?”

“No, this is my idea of cultivating. Why aren’t you cultivating?”

“Does this seem like the time for cultivating?”

“Yes. You are surrounded by cultivating birds. You have returned to your ancestors. If not now, then when? Besides, while our hosts are clearly doing something to moderate the qi around the pavilion, it is freakishly dense. I’m amazed it hasn’t condensed into a visible mist.”

The bickering was rote, neither really putting their heart into it. Liren was eventually cajoled into cultivating, though she couldn’t be needled into sitting on the bed next to him. They cultivated from late afternoon until dawn the next day, watching the sun come up through the open door.

“Juniors from the Ancient Crane Monastery, come forth. The Grandmaster will receive you now.”

The voice was soft and abidingly strong. They stood and bowed in the direction it came from, trusting that they would be seen. Liren caught Tian’s eyes. Still haunted, still guilt stricken. But he could see gratitude too. Words, some mighty declaration, some moving thing that would be just the right thing to say and make everything better, pressed against the back of his teeth but never quite escaped.

Even in the privacy of his own head, he thought they sounded pretentious and fake. Liren deserved better than that. He deserved better than that. If Liren ever did raise a hand to him, he didn’t know what he would be like. The sheer betrayal was almost incomprehensible. What he did know is that she would never have a chance to apologize. He couldn’t ever imagine killing her, but no force in the world would compel him to stay in the same country with her either.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice, Grandpa?”

Loads. This doesn’t have a right answer. Being calm and present is a good start. Letting her do things that feel like she is progressing towards her goals, things that give her a feeling of power and agency, are also good. Relax a little. She’s in a bad way, but you are where you should be, doing what you should be.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

There was one of Grandpa Jun’s signature unkind sniggers. Besides, I have a good idea who, or at least what kind of being, that little bird wants her to meet, now that we are here. The stink of lanolin really grinds into your nostrils after a while, impossible to forget. If things go right, she is going to RIP that… Yi person,

Tian had the distinct impression Grandpa had to concentrate to remember the name.

Several new and exciting orifices. Eyes up- it’s that brat sparrow. She’s nosing past your privacy amulet too.

Grandpa progressed from an unkind snigger to a sinister laugh. Think about the dump. Remember us playing jumping games and learning your numbers? And the colors? Good, yes, and how we would find little plants you could eat, and that old pile with all the really fat grubs just before the rainy season? Good. That will do.

“Um. Do what, Grandpa?”

Memories of me, about me, and things you learned from me are protected from the kind of low level methods the people on this mountain can employ. But it would be too strange if there was just a blank. You have told plenty of people about your dead Grandpa Jun, after all.

“Yes…?”

She is currently enjoying a little illusion of her own. She is seeing your memories just as you remember them, except there is a derelict old man accompanying you. An old man with a certain suggestive mark on his cheek that could be a disfigured tattoo of a crossed anchor of ancient design and a serpent’s eye, and when you look at him in the brightest of sunlight, the liver spots on his hands are connected by almost complete images of a stellar formation of uncanny power and significance. The subtle way he stands, the way he measures the sky with his hands, the odd inflection he puts on words and certain numbers- It’s not enough by itself, but together they provide clues that could very well lead to a monumental discovery. Secrets of ancient, unbelievable power. Things that you were too young and too ignorant to understand.

Tian boarded the paper boat with the others, looking placid as always.

“She is about to go on a long journey, isn’t she?”

Assuming her research doesn’t lead her directly into the kind of swirling madness and paranoia that spawn ghost stories. It took practically no energy either. What a lovely start to the day.

Tian had always wondered what Grandpa was like before he died. And once again, he decided that it was probably best not to ask.

The Myriad Colors Holy Land was aptly named. Everything had a color or a texture to it. Everything was vivid and fascinating, even the things that really didn’t have to be. The bark of a tree wasn’t simply brown. It was a fawn standing in shade, and sandstone in the early hours of the morning as the wasteland sun barely cleared the horizon, and the weathered color of the poor homes that dotted the banks of the Pebble River.

“It’s not just brown, it’s the brownest brown in all the ways that brown can be brown. And so is the tree next to it, and the leaf litter on the ground. A profound change for the greenest green leaves."

How all the leaves could, individually and collectively, be the greenest, he really couldn’t say. He had the oddest feeling that he wasn’t really seeing what he was seeing. Or perhaps he was, but what he was seeing wasn’t all he was seeing. Like looking at a tree and not realizing you were also seeing an owl until it twisted its head and stared back.

The Holy Land was difficult to understand in other ways- sometimes it seemed like a wild mountainside, filled with trees and grass despite being in the snow cap. Other times, it was a garden. Still other times it was both, or neither, until he concluded that the whole thing was built along principles he simply did not understand. The art of air and water was plainly involved, but at a level he could only perceive by observing its effects.

Over everything was the dense qi. Tian could sense the necklace was helping to regulate it, in essence dispelling the qi from around him. What still remained was enough to leave him near-reeling. If this was a “death zone,” it was a remarkably lively one. He suspected it wasn’t. Where the top of the cultivation mountain actually was, was something he was constantly redefining upwards.

Mourning Cry led them to a small grove and the Dawnlight Lark. The lark looked them over briefly, then quickly nodded her head. They were, in Tian’s opinion, a rather odd collection- a Snow Grace Crane, a crow, Tian, Liren and Brother Brightheart’s human companion. All coming to meet the White Peacock.

They were silently led into the grove. It was laid out like a scholar’s garden, with low tables displaying paintings and calligraphy, while qins and other instruments sat out, ready for playing. The fragrance of agarwood drifted through, mingling with the fresh smell of the leaves and forest.

Filling the grove were a mix of humans and beasts. They would discuss paintings, play go, or just chatted amiably over tea. Or so Tian guessed. The pictures and calligraphy were blurred, as though his eyes were fogged in just the wrong spots. The scholars didn’t say a word, either. Their instruments were played without a single sound. Everyone clearly chatting and having a good time, but silently.

In the middle of it, idly practicing his characters was an elegant man at the peak of his vitality- nearly thirty, perhaps. The blinding-white hair, white skin, white robes, white shoes and a white jade hairpiece suggested that it was no human at all, and there might be at least two, and almost certainly more, zeroes missing from Tian’s estimate of his age.

“Five virtuous souls, two of which are suitable for inheriting my Nine Color Plumage art, and three who seem to have some fate with my honored guests. A most auspicious day. Well done.”

“Thank you Master!” The lark bobbed her head.

“Step back, and let me see these youngsters. Ah, Daoist Brightheart, battered, scuffed, but dustless. What do the Nine Colors Plumage represent to you?”

“The space between life and death.” The Crow’s voice was sharp and clear. Tian was surprised by the certainty in his voice. He wouldn’t dare to be so bold.

“Mmm. And you, Burning Heaven? You have only just entered the Heavenly Realm. What does the Nine Colored Plumage mean to you?”

“Showing off and being domineering! Because the rest of the time, you are quiet and peaceful, and live simply, but sometimes you need to set the pecking order, and sometimes you need to show off for your flock or your mate, and nine colored feathers would be very impressive!”

It seemed fearlessness was a trait of bird cultivators. Tian felt like he had failed in fostering Burning Heaven. Was it too much exposure to Liren’s fiery influence? The visiting beasts and humans were all studiously minding their business, but he could still tell all eyes were on his fosterling.

Fortunately, the White Peacock laughed. “How wonderful, you are both correct. I will accept you both as students learning under me. You may not refer to yourselves as my disciples, in name or otherwise, and will obey the rules I have established for students here. I shall not restrict you once you leave this Holy Land, beyond saying that if you disgrace me while using this art, consequences will find you. Quickly.” The elegant man shimmered, and in his place was a peacock, perhaps a bit larger than normal, and snowy white. There were faint patterns and shapes in the feathers. Even a quick glance strained the eyes.

“Daoist Merciless, Daoist Wine Ghost, Daoist Voidcatcher, come and look them over up close. Let us know if they still suit your fancy.”

The giant toad was a surprise, as was the anemic human-looking being with a calabash at his waist. The last of the three was more than a surprise, it was a shock to the system. Something of the shape was between a sheep and a goat, with the paws of a lion and a scaled belly like a snake or dragon. It had a single horn growing from its leonine head, grinning with both fangs, and blocky, human-like, teeth.

For the life of him, Tian couldn’t guess which daoist was named what.