Savage Divinity

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The steady beating of the stone fish drums drew Jorani deeper into his meditative trance as he chanted the Sutras, a daily routine he’d grown accustomed to after joining the Brotherhood. As an initiate, he had yet to learn the meaning behind the words, but the history and significance of the Sutras fascinated him in a way he never thought an intellectual matter ever could. He spent many long afternoons questioning Vyakhya until the old Healer grew tired of answering his questions, only to pick up where they left off at the next lesson. Passed down from time immemorial and spoken in a language long dead, the Sutras were oral scriptures adopted by the Brotherhood not only for their soothing and enlightening properties, but also for the teachings laid out within. The foreign words concealed a vast array of knowledge regarding the Truth, knowledge which seeped into Jorani’s mind as he chanted even though he didn’t understand the words themselves. It was akin to finding Insight into the Forms, only this wisdom pertained to higher matters than combat and conflict.

For within the Sutras lurked the secret to Divinity itself.

At least, that’s how Jorani felt, because he never felt more at peace with the world than when chanting the Sutras. The Brotherhood’s final goal was to escape Samsara, the cycle of death and rebirth, and ascend beyond this plane of existence, to do so, one must first understand the world and all the steps leading up to the Ascent. For this, they had the Sutras to guide them, a piece of the puzzle missing from the Martial Path which placed too much focus on application and too much emphasis on benefit. To Form a Core, Jorani became One with the Void, or aware of nothing but awareness itself as Mister Rustram once put it. To bind his Spiritual Weapon, he became One with the Weapon. From his teachings with the Brotherhood, he learned the next recognized step was to become One with the World, but what most didn’t know was that before becoming One with the World, one first had to become One with the Self.

How could the World accept someone who had yet to accept themselves? Between Experts and Peak Experts lay a vast chasm which few could surmount, and it was for this very reason. One with the Self was a vital and necessary step, one the Peak Experts of the Empire inadvertently and unknowingly took yet never understood, and thus failed to maintain it consistently. Even if this knowledge was made known to the entire world, it was still not an easy step to take, for becoming One with the Self was an effort of inner peace and self-reflection, of accepting one’s nature and all which it entailed, a step made all the more difficult by the concept of Balance.

An Insight Jorani gleaned from the Sutras, a minor truth which made things so much clearer. Balance was inherently flawed, because humans were not creatures of Balance, and in striving towards it, they rejected their base nature and their true selves. In fact, only a handful of living beings could claim to be Balanced in nature, but this was as the Mother intended it. To bind Her creations to Balance would be contrary to free will, and the Mother loved Her children too much to restrict them so.

But in her love, She consigned all living things to the cycle of death and rebirth, for without Balance, how were they to survive the Father’s machinations, much less free themselves from mortal constraints? A paradox, one which puzzled the Brotherhood and their predecessors for millennia, if not longer, and it was all fascinating stuff which Jorani could spend hours mulling over, but this wasn’t the time for idle intellectual musings. Meditation was a time for reflection, not only on lessons and Insights, but also on the self and how one might improve, so he set aside his questions for a later time and focused his thoughts.

It was nice here in the monastery, peaceful and soothing, without the constant need to watch his back or worry about matters such as face or courtship. It was the right choice to stay, because not only had he gotten much stronger as a Martial Warrior, he’d also had no need for said strength. How long had it been since there was no threat to his life, no Defiled, Wraiths, thugs, or assassins to watch out for? For the first time since his childhood, he could stop looking over his shoulder and worrying about what might go wrong. This was a good life, an ideal one even, a life filled with purpose and serenity.

Still... Jorani was curious to know how he would fare against the Defiled now. While still a basic Martial Warrior without Aura or Natal Palace, he’d gotten much stronger in the past... weeks? Months? How long had he been here? It was hard to say, but he’d learned so much, it had to at least have been a year, or close to it. Did he win any of his spars yet? No...Yes, once against Sayan and he almost landed a clean hit on Anand.

Hang on... When did he learn Eyebrows and Happy’s Dharma names? Those were only for Brothers who’d joined the inner order, and Jorani still had yet to take his final vows. Putting a hand down his pants to double check, he sighed in relief when he discovered his groin smooth and without protrusion, exactly as things should be.

Wait what? No. No, no no. No no no no no no...

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” Though it sounded like the old Healer was nearby, there was no one around, for Jorani now sat alone in the bleak darkness of the Void. Looking this way and that, all he saw was emptiness before him and soon, the directions all blended together in his mind as if he were spinning in place, yet the Void never shifted or changed. Through the haze of dizziness and confusion, the old Healer’s soothing voice said, “Calm your mind and still your thoughts, Brother Jorani. You are safe here, away from the ugly, unpleasant dangers of the world. This is your life, the life you desire, and you are content.”

As Jorani’s mind spun about within his thoughts and he repeated the old Healer’s words, the Void gave way to light and –

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thwap.

Thwap.

Thwap.

The sound of wood on flesh permeated the courtyard during morning penance, but Jorani was engrossed in his thoughts while beating himself over the shoulder with his flail. Though it’d long since become a part of his daily routine, he still wasn’t too comfortable taking Penance, not because of the pain or bruises, but because it made no damn sense. While not so different from the daily beatings he endured as part of the bossman’s training, at least he understood the reasoning behind it. To encourage the development of tougher muscles and stronger bones, they lightly injured themselves before meditation so the Energy of the Heavens could reinforce their bodies, and if your slap-mates went too far, then you could use it as a chance to practice Panacea. A reasonable explanation which he suppose made sense, but since he didn’t really know enough to prove or disprove it, Jorani accepted the bossman’s justification and endured the beatings with minimal complaints.

Not so with the Brotherhood. Not only did they meditate before the beatings and simply Healed their injuries afterwards, the premise of Penance was unclear to him and Vyakhya’s explanation unsatisfactory. “Ordinarily,” the old Healer said, when Jorani first asked, a memory so crisp and clear it were as if he were re-living the moment, “This monk would happily discuss the matter and respond to your doubts and apprehensions, but you are a special case and this is a delicate time in your training, so I hesitate to overburden you with the facts. If you do not wish to continue with Penance, then put it aside until such a time when you understand it better. To live is to suffer, but suffering must have meaning and serve a purpose, so better to abstain from Penance than to inflict needless suffering and hardship upon yourself.”

The memory faded and Jorani returned to beating himself with his wooden flail. If the old Healer told him to stop, then why was he still going through with this? Must be to fit in. There wasn’t much else he could do now, and the self-inflicted beatings weren’t nearly as bad as what he’d gotten in training, so he might well treat this as practice and continue with his Penance.

Wait just a damn second...

Why was he only figuring all this out now? Shouldn’t he have thought it through before taking up the flail? He wasn’t one to beat himself for no reason, especially if he’d been given a good reason not to, so why was he even here?

It all makes perfect sense. There is nothing out of place. He loves it here in the monastery. This is his home. Why look for problems when there are none?

Yea, he made his choice to stay, to live an ascetic life, and Penance was part and parcel of the whole deal, a deal which he enjoyed more than he thought he would. Life was simple here, and in simplicity, he found peace, so what did it matter if he took a few bruises for it? Sure, he had a few regrets, but at the end of the day, he had to look out for himself, because no one else would. Cept Ral, of course. The big oaf would always have Jorani’s back, for all the good it did, and was no doubt pacing a rut in his yurt wondering when his friend was coming back. Chey would be glad to see Jorani gone though, she never liked him much, but she tolerated him for the love of Ral. Sorya and Anrhi would worry too, but he could rest easy knowing they were safe in the citadel with proper honest work to do, handmaidens to a real lady with no need to worry about lusty nobles or shady guards taking advantage of them. Nah, the only thing they had to look out for was the bossman, but he was a decent enough sort who’d do right by the girls if he laid hands on them. That’s the kind of man he was, and Jorani knew they were safe at his side.

...Cept now he was crippled. Could he even protect himself, much less Jorani’s sisters? Shit... He had to do something, had to get his message to the Abbot, but... but what happened? Why wasn’t he off doing what he was supposed to do? He had to ask someone, like GangShu, Daxian, the Ascendants, the old Healer...

The old Healer. “Vyakhya!” Snarling in rage, Jorani opened his eyes and discovered he wasn’t in the courtyard beating himself with a flail, but sitting empty-handed alone in the Void once again, though he had a sneaking suspicion he’d been here all along. “You fucker!”, he howled, screaming into the emptiness. “Let me out!”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” The old Healer sighed, then muttered, “Perhaps a more active approach is necessary,” but it sounded like he was talking to himself rather than responding to Jorani. “Less time with his thoughts, and more time spent with his Brothers, so he feels like he truly belongs. Yes, this might be the answer...”

“What are you doing?” Jorani asked, unsure where to look or if anyone could even hear him. “What’s happening here?”

No answer came, and after a short, everlasting pause, the old Healer’s soothing voice sent his mind into a spiral, one far too familiar for Jorani’s liking. “Calm your mind and still your thoughts, Brother Jorani.”

As if he’d heard it thousand times before, Jorani’s lips moved of their own accord. “I am safe here,” he declared, though he felt anything but, “Away from the ugly, unpleasant dangers of the world. This is my life, the life I desire, and I am content.”

The Void gave way to light and –

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Porcelain bowls clattered atop wooden trays as Jorani made his way through the crowd of Brothers to sit with the old Healer, Happy, Bones, and Eyebrows. When he first arrived, meals in the monastery were always a quiet, tranquil affair, but things changed as he grew more comfortable with his Brothers. Though no one ever spoke of their lives before joining the Brotherhood and they only rarely brought up matters regarding the outside world, there was still plenty to discuss over rice and steamed buns, and Jorani looked forward to hearing what others thought of the lessons he’d learned and the Insights he’d gleaned whilst deep in meditation.

Launching into an explanation of his recent discoveries as he sat down, he filled everyone’s teacups in order of seniority as a gesture of respect, or at least as best he could tell. The monks didn’t put much stock on seniority, or any at all, for they were all Brothers on the path to salvation, which was a fine sentiment and all, but it turned pouring tea into a guessing game. Though he almost froze with indecision, none of his Brothers laughed at Jorani’s hesitation as they listened with rapt attention, and he talked for what felt like hours, or even days, going over every detail of his Insights not just to share them, but to reaffirm them in his mind. He spoke for what felt like an eternity on Balance, how humans were ill-suited for it, and possible ways they could rectify this until he had nothing left to say, and when he finally fell silent, the old Healer smiled and nodded a half-second before the others joined in, their food and drink untouched while nodding in sync.

A bit odd, but maybe they were being polite and waited for him to finish speaking before digging in...

“Well done Brother Jorani,” the old Healer said, smiling like a kindly old grandfather. He didn’t pat Jorani on the cheek this time, nor had he in a long time, but his eyes were warm and doting. “Truly well done. Few ever come to see this on their own, but your Insight has led you to the crux of the issue. Human nature runs contrary to Balance, a fundamental flaw which is not so easily fixed.” Straightening up in his seat, the old Healer started to gesture around them, but stopped midway and said, “You’ve seen how the Brotherhood cultivates and I’ve told you what our end goals are, but now you’ve uncovered the reasoning behind our methods on your own. If basic human nature is at odds with Balance, then why not change human nature? Easier said than done, but now you understand. There is still so much to learn, but to come so far on your own shows you are truly suited for our ways. A shame you are unaware -”

The old Healer cut himself off short and tried to change the topic, but Jorani’s curiosity got the better of him. “Unaware? Of what?”

Hesitant to answer, the old frowned and mulled over his thoughts, so Jorani turned to Happy for help, but the rotund monk showed no reaction as he sat there with a vacant smile and stare. Bones and Eyebrows were the same, and when Jorani noticed their food and drink untouched, he looked around at the other monks and found them all lifelike, yet utterly motionless, but still the sound of chopsticks on porcelain continued to ring out around him.

This wasn’t real.

“Damn it.” The dining hall and its inhabitants all faded out of view, leaving Jorani sitting in the Void across from the old Healer, looking quite disgruntled with himself. It was strange seeing him rest his elbow on nothingness, leaning on a table and sitting on a chair which no longer existed, and the moment Jorani arrived at this realization, he fell out of his missing chair and plummeted down through the Void, the image of the sitting old Healer fast fading out of sight as the darkness engulfed him. “Calm your mind Brother Jorani,” the old Healer said, his tone soothing and supportive. “Still your thoughts. You stand in the Void. Think it, believe it, and it shall be so.”

Upon hearing this, Jorani’s descent came to a halt, but there was no sense of movement or frame of reference to anchor him, and he quickly began falling again. No, he just thought he was falling and thus, felt like he was falling. There was no air in the Void, no ground, no up or down, no left or right, only empty nothingness, so it took some time to get used to it, but he had time to spare. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but as soon as he got used to his surroundings, he raised his head and shouted, “Old Healer! Vyakhya! Show yerself ye shit-sucking traitor!”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” The old Healer, no, Vyakhya’s voice sounded, but again, his presence was nowhere to be found. “Such anger, but justified, given your ignorance to the Truth. You believe I work against you, yes? In a way, I do, but only because your actions threaten to undo all the work this old monk has done, so let us discuss this like civilized Brothers, without hurtful slander, hmm?”

Even though Vyakhya was clearly at odds with Jorani, he still felt bad for hurting the old man’s feelings, so he muttered a quiet apology and said, “Fine, a discussion. Ye gonna show yer face, or ye just gonna talk at me like a ghost?”

No answer came, and after a long pause, Jorani thought Vyakhya had left. Stranded in the void, he looked around and found nothing to see or do and almost immediately fell into a panic. Well, maybe not immediately, because much like directions, it was impossible to tell time without a frame of reference. No breaths to draw, no heartbeats to measure, not even a need to blink his eyes or rest his feet, the darkness stretched out in all directions and left Jorani stranded in this senseless world without a clue on how to proceed, until he remembered the old Healer’s words. ‘Think it, believe it, and it shall be so’. Though standing on opposing sides, Vyakhya’s advice had always been sound, so Jorani pictured himself safe in his room at the monastery and after an eternity in a moment, that’s where he appeared. It was exactly as he remembered it, a grey, rectangular room with a wooden bed, nightstand, chair, desk, and wardrobe, all without ornamentation. Once that was out of the way, Jorani sat on the bed to gather his thoughts and think things through, and then he went over them again because Vyakhya still had yet to arrive.

He went over his plans thrice before the old Healer finally appeared at the open door, standing outside in the void as he peered around the room with a forlorn smile. For a moment, Jorani wished they could go back to the simple days where they were teacher and student, but things were too far gone now. Regardless of his reasons, the old Healer would have to explain his betrayal in full.

After a long silence, Vyakhya was first to speak, stepping inside and touching Jorani’s cheek in greeting. “You asked this old monk to show his face, so here I stand before you,” he said, his face less wrinkled than Jorani remembered, his back straighter and eye-brows thinner too. “But first, you learned this old monk’s Dharmic name thanks to his error, so this one hopes Brother Jorani will not share it.”

“Ye lied to me, Vyakhya.” Even saying the words hurt, but Jorani drew strength from his anger, even as he nodded in agreement to the old Healer’s request. “Ye made me think ye were on me side, but ye aren’t. Yer working against the Abbot, against the bossman. Why? Yer a monk, so aren’t ye supposed to be above worldly affairs?”

With a world weary sigh, Vyakhya nodded in confirmation. “Yes, this old monk lied and deceived you, but with good reason. A minor evil to rectify a greater one. As you said, we of the Brotherhood are pledged to abstain from worldly affairs, yet the Abbot declared Falling Rain a Brother of the inner order and raised him to the rank of first of Five Wisdoms. An untried child who had yet to even learn of the Brotherhood’s existence, elevated to a position second only to the Abbot himself and first among equals. A clear abuse of the Abbot’s authority, for he seeks to cast the Brotherhood into the muddied waters of the mundane world and make soldiers of those who came to him in search of salvation, so what else could this old monk do but oppose him?”

“Muddied waters? Yer calling war against the Defiled ‘muddied waters’?” Snorting in derision, Jorani shook his head and scoffed, though he had to admit, the Abbot’s actions were unsavoury at best. “Yer safe here in yer mountains and don’t have to fight, but the rest of the Empire ain’t so lucky. The tiger’s come down from its mountain, and there ain’t nowhere to run, so it’s kill or be killed against the Defiled.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Brother Jorani.” Holding his hand up to forestall Jorani’s argument, Vyakhya said, “I said before, you’ve touched upon the Truth, but you’ve no recollection of the event. I left it unsaid because I feared you were not ready for it, but perhaps now you are. You said humanity is unsuitable for Balance, and I agreed, but allow me to elaborate: Balance, as the Empire perceives it, is more suitable for Humanity than true Balance, but still fundamentally flawed.”

“...Yer saying the world don’t understand Balance?”

“In a way. The publicly accepted definition of Balance is... incomplete, one which skirts around the full truth for easier understanding. Cast aside all emotion and embrace the Void to reach Balance, yes? As difficult as it is to even reach this partial Balance, it at least allows practitioners to proceed along the Martial Path without altering their fundamental nature, but it is akin to collecting water with a sieve or catching wind in a net.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Do you still not see it?” Cocking his head to one side, Vyakhya waited for Jorani to reach the answer on his own, but after a long silence, the Healer shook his head and said, “The significance is it shows that Balance, as the Empire knows it, as you know it, is flawed, yet still it continues to propagate. Why? The Brotherhood knows better, so why do we not shout the truth for all to hear? Because the Imperial Clan would not stand for it! It suits their purposes to keep their subjects weak, spreading their lies so they can remain wolves among sheep. They tell you to cast aside emotion and seek strength to fight the Defiled, and in doing so hobble humanity so they will never reach the true heights we are capable of. Put away your preconceived notions and think for yourself: which sounds closer to Balance? Casting aside all emotion, or learning how to embrace them, to take love and hate, joy and sorrow, courage and fear, and your emotions flow through you in perfect harmony?”

Unable to reply because he didn’t like where this was going, Jorani listened as Vyakhya continued. “Remember what I said about the Mother and Father? They too could have once been mortals like you and I, yet they Ascended to godhood, but how? Another thing of note is their schools of thought appear diametrically opposed, yet they are always spoken of in the same breath. Why? Think, Brother Jorani. You are a clever man, but you are blinded by half-truths and falsehoods. Study the facts, then you will see as the Brotherhood does, understand that Balance is a lie. True Balance is not emptiness or nothingness, for Balance can only be achieved when both sides stand in perfect equilibrium.”

And then the pieces fell together. “You’re talking about turning Defiled...”

“Bah. Defiled.” Vyakhya sneered, and his wrinkles and nose hairs melted away to reveal a younger man, a sturdy warrior filled with fire and vinegar. “Another lie. Yes, surrender to base emotion has dire consequences, but poison and medicine differ only in dosage. There is no denying that humans are creatures of emotion, and properly utilized, they can be used to great effect. Surely you’ve seen Imperial Warriors overcome with righteous rage upon the battlefield or fearful cowards fleeing faster than they normally could, and these are but two examples of emotions bolstering strength. To see these irregularities and still believe in Imperial falsehoods is foolish to the extreme, and you of all people should know better.”

Horror welled up from within Jorani, but even though he wanted to deny Vyakhya’s every word, it all made too much sense. “Yer saying I turned Defiled? That’s why the Brotherhood’s so interested?”

“More than just turned,” Vyakhya said, his younger eyes glowing with admiration and enthusiasm. “You stepped past the point of no return, succumbed to base emotion, and then you stepped back! Few living can say the same, and most reside here in these mountains, for if the Brotherhood’s secret was known to the world, then the Emperor would have no choice but to order our extermination.”

All the monks were once Defiled? “...Hang on. If I turned Defiled and back again, then how come I don’t remember it?”

“And therein lies the Brotherhood’s interest.” Grinning from ear to ear, the younger Vyakhya shrugged and said, “We don’t know how you accomplished such a feat or why you don’t remember it, but we would like to learn more. It is a dangerous path we tread, and even with careful guidance and preparation, mistakes are still made.” Waving a hand, he changed topics and continued, “But now you understand, yes? The Empire, the Defiled, it’s all a meaningless game of power played by the Imperial Clan, with their own members supporting both sides. These are the muddied waters I speak of, because regardless of the outcome, lives will be lost and innocents will suffer, just so mortals can play at being gods, yet still the Abbot seeks to meddle in their affairs. Do not be like him, Brother Jorani, and leave the mundane world behind, because even a thousand lifetimes would not be enough to fix it. Heaven knows, others have tried.”

It was almost too much for Jorani to take in, so he did what he always did when presented with a difficult decision: he pushed it aside to deal with later. “GangShu and the others; they dead?”

“Of course not.” As if offended Jorani would even think it, Vyakhya gestured to either side, though there was nothing outside the room but darkness. “They’re safe and sound beside you in the physical world, hidden within a cavern and trapped within their minds. A skill from... an ally, of sorts.”

His ally sure as hell wasn’t a monk, he would’ve said ‘a Brother’. Filing this tidbit of useful information, Jorani prayed his hunch was right and visualized his Spiritual Rope wrapped tightly around the younger-looking Healer. To his delight, the Spiritual Weapon appeared out of thin air and bound Vyakhya tight, but it took an effort of will to keep the rope from fading out of existence, unlike the rest of the room Jorani created. Trying to appear calm, Vyakhya looked down at the bindings and raised an eyebrow in question, but his trembling hands gave him away. “These cannot hold me you know. I could be gone with but a single thought, for we stand in the void.”

“Then do it.” Crossing his arms, Jorani sat down on his bed and waited. “I don’t think ye can though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well fer one, yer a terrible liar.” Blanching as if to prove the point, Vyakhya opened his mouth to deny his lie, but Jorani spoke right over him. “Second, I get the feeling I have more power here then ye let on. Before, ye weren’t real, you and all the other brothers ye conjured up, yea? I daresay it takes effort to drum up them illusions, cause I’ve seen wooden mannequins with more stage presence than yer little puppets. Ye never touched me either, which was weird since yer so fond of pattin’ me cheek, and since yer age keeps changing while we talk, I figure that means yer here in person this time, right? And here, well I’m guessin’ it’s my Natal Palace.”

Deflating with every sentence, Vyakhya aged before Jorani’s eyes until he became the old Healer once more. Though bound and helpless, his sad smile held a hint of pride as he stood in place, shaking his head in silent disbelief. “This monk always admired your keen intellect, Brother Jorani, and my respect only grew with time. It’s why I watched over you while you explored the mountains, and why I personally influenced your dreams after my slip of the tongue so we could continue your lessons even in sleep, but this proved a double-edged sword. Your companions have been imprisoned this same way for months, yet you are the first to break free from the illusion, and not only once, but thrice in a mere eight weeks.” While Jorani was still reeling over having been trapped for eight weeks, Vyakhya chuckled and said, “When you demanded I show my face, I left you stranded in the void to come here in person, yet imagine my surprise when mere minutes later, I arrived to find you’d Formed your Natal Palace. This monk almost didn’t dare come in to meet you, but felt I owed you an explanation and hoped you would not understand the power you wielded. Ai, such guilt, such hubris, but such is life. Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.”

Coming to his feet, Jorani helped the old Healer to the chair, because even though he’d made a mess of things, Jorani didn’t hate him, though he still bound Vyakhya to the chair just to be safe. “I can’t say I agree with what ye did, but I can’t say I disagree with most of what ye said either. Still, even if yer right and the Abbot means to lead the Brotherhood to war, it ain’t yer place to make decisions fer others, especially not me. Yer Brothers can pick and choose fer themselves if they wanna fight, and as fer me, much as I enjoyed me time here and am grateful fer all yer teachings, I was never gonna stay. I still owe the bossman a couple years of service, and I promised me best friend I’d raise a toast at his wedding.” Shrugging, he added, “Besides, ye got the bossman all wrong. He’s much smarter than I am, and I probably have him to thank fer not being Defiled, or whatever. Anywho, ye sit tight now while I take care of business. I’ll come back once I figure out what to do with ye.”

It took a few tries and a little advice from the old Healer, but soon Jorani opened his eyes and found himself lying on a cot in a spacious cavern, lit sparsely by rays of light streaming in from the curved entrance. Keeping the bindings in mind, he glanced over at Vyakhya’s unconscious body lying on a second cot beside him, while GangShu, Daxian, Wugang, and Yelu Shi all lay comatose on the ground. Even after all he did, the old Healer kept to his vows and couldn’t bear to kill anyone, and probably even came here every day to feed them to boot, though Jorani was feeling a mite peckish and mighty thirsty. Aside from looking a little gaunt and in desperate need of a bath, the Ascendants were otherwise unharmed, but he didn’t know how to wake them so he left them be. Seeing the slack, contented faces on his sire and half-brother, he kicked their feet out of his way and grumbled, “Shoddy bastards, gettin’ done in by a dream.”

Light-headed and mouth dry, he stumbled towards the cavern’s entrance and found a steep, overgrown path leading up. Unused, which meant the old Healer probably Cloud-Stepped his way over, and without supplies and someone watching over him in secret, Jorani didn’t feel too confident about making his way back to the monastery, but he didn’t have many other options, so he grit his teeth and powered forward.

“Bwak-Bwak Bwa-Kwak!!”

The moment Jorani set foot on the path, a raucous shriek made his heart leap out of his chest, and he fell back as the way forward was barred by feathers and fury. Wings spread and head raised, a behemoth stood before him and glared in challenge, its head bobbing and spear-like beak snapping while clucking a warning. Much like the Guardian Turtle, this silkie rooster was a peak existence amongst its kind, a shaggy, fluffy monstrosity at least ten times larger than the average chicken and almost the same height as Jorani.

Damn... if he could find a similarly sized melon, then he could make one delicious pot of soup...

After long seconds spent wavering between gluttony and terror, Jorani realized the giant rooster wasn’t going to attack, so he quashed his urge to slaughter it for a meal or twelve. “Easy there big guy,” he said, using the same voice he used whenever Ral was in a funk. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt ye here.” Cautiously pushing himself back to his feet, he kept his hands in plain sight and didn’t dare look away as the rooster warily watched his every move, all puffed up with wings out and eyes piercing. After backing away to make a little distance between them, Jorani pointed at the overgrown path. “Look, I just wanna get out, okay? So why don't we both step aside and -”

“Bwa-Kwakkkkk!”

Seated atop his jade throne, Jorani sipped his plum wine and watched his courtesans dance in their flimsy, feathered dresses. Magnificent as the sight was, he was confused about how he got here, though all the jiggling flesh and gyrating hips made it difficult to think. “Hang on a second,” he said, fending off the lovely ladies’ grasping hands while he tried to make heads or tails of the situation. So many pretty heads and alluring backsides... “Hold on, I – Woah there now! Okay, yea, there goes me pants. This is nice and all but if ye could just...” The more he protested, the more insistent his courtesans became, their eyes burning with hunger as they assailed him from all sides, pulling and pressing from all directions until he couldn’t tell up from down or left from right.

Which oddly enough, was a familiar sensation, so familiar it brought him back to his senses. With a simple thought, the scantily-clad courtesans disappeared and Jorani was back in his room at the monastery, with Vyakhya shaking his head in mild disapproval while still bound to the chair. “Indulging in pleasures of the flesh, Brother Jorani? Such desire, such sin.”

“It wasn’t me,” he grumbled, indignant at the accusation despite not being a true monk. “There was this giant rooster...”

“Yes, the ally I spoke of.” Nodding sagely, Vyakhya said, “A formidable creature, but still a beast nonetheless. Another of the Abbot’s frivolous failed projects, though it would’ve been much more difficult to quietly deal with an Ancestral Beast without his help.” Shrugging, he added, “A territorial creature, I only needed to direct your companions towards Kukku’s nest and follow behind to collect their comatose bodies. A most fascinating Chi skill, wouldn’t you say? Projecting lifelike illusions directly into another’s mind, the possible applications are near endless. With it, we could show others what a true utopia life would be like, or craft an environment tailor-made for seeking salvation with no worldly desires to distract from Cultivation, but alas, we have yet to wholly understand or even replicate the skill. The most this monk can do is influence the dreamer to recreate the illusion, and even this was not my discovery, but another’s, a kindred spirit kind enough to share his findings.”

Mildly disturbed over being thrown into an erotic fantasy by a giant rooster, Jorani interrupted Vyakhya’s explanation and asked, “How do I get past... Kukku and back to the monastery?”

The old Healer shrugged again. “You cannot. The only foot-path out of this cavern leads right past his nest. It’s why I chose it, so a wayward Brother wouldn’t accidentally stumble across you and your comrades. The only way out is to Cloud-Step away, for despite his power, Kukku is still a rooster who believes he cannot fly.”

“Damn it.” Despite breaking free from the mind-prison, Jorani was still stuck in the cavern unless he could wake one of the others. Willing himself back to reality, he found Kukku the rooster still standing guard over the path while Jorani lay comatose on the cliff-side, but aside from hopping in place and uttering a stream of angry clucks, the beast seemed content to watch him scurry back into the cave. Once there, he set to slapping the sleeping Ascendants one by one, with more delight than he would dare admit, but even after leaving hand-prints on all their faces, not a single one of them stirred. Annoyed by their lacking self-restraint, he tried a few more inventive ways of waking them up, but he stopped short of stomping on their giblets because he still enjoyed breathing. With no other choice, he returned to his Natal Palace and asked, “How do I wake the others?”

“Again, you cannot.” A third shrug, but Jorani detected a hint of satisfaction in the old Healer’s eyes, as if everything was going according to plan despite his current predicament. “You’ve made great progress in your time here, but it was all largely intellectual and theoretical progress, so you’re still a ways away from External Chi. Even then, you’d need considerable practice before you can wake someone from their illusion without harming them. The mind is a delicate thing after all, but I fear you and your companions would starve to death before you reach the required level of skill.”

Luckily, slapping didn’t wake any of them, but if Vyakhya expected Jorani to free him because he had no other choice, then he was in for a –

The Spiritual Rope fell to the floor and the old Healer disappeared from Jorani’s Natal Palace. Blinking in surprise, he willed himself out of his Natal Palace to find Vyakhya standing over him with palms pressed together in prayer while the rooster clucked and hissed at the cavern’s entrance. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. A stray thought is all that’s needed to affect the world within oneself, so forgive this monk for leading you astray.” Seeing Jorani’s raise his fists, the old Healer shook his head. “There is no need to defend yourself, for this monk means you and your companions no harm.”

“True, but ye still took us prisoner and kept us here against our will. If ye still mean to do so, then yer gonna have a fight on yer hands.” A short one, which would end in Jorani’s overwhelming defeat, but he had to try.

“An argument could be made otherwise.” Though Jorani scoffed at the claim, Vyakhya didn’t bat an eye and explained, “You yourself are the best example. The illusions are not crafted by the rooster, but rather your mind is compelled to create the illusions based on your own deepest desires, which is why they are so convincing. Much like a pleasant dream, you overlook the erroneous details because you want to believe. You yourself broke free largely in part to my tampering, but the peaceful, quiet life you so enjoyed these past two months couldn’t have been possible if you didn’t truly desire it on some level. Yes, this monk overstepped in forcing your hand, but you wanted this life for yourself, else you would have broken free much earlier. You are a man of honour, but honour is merely a construct of human emotion, emotion which ties you to this transient existence. This monk will say again, cleanse yourself of the red dust of the mortal world and move beyond the insignificant and impermanent, Brother Jorani.”

“Ye tell me to leave everything behind,” Jorani said, hands still raised and ready to fight, “But I’m a soldier. How can I abandon my duty and leave innocent civilians to be slaughtered by the Defiled? Wouldn’t that be contrary to the Eight-Fold Path? The second Path tells us to live with the Right Intentions, which means to live an ascetic’s life devoid of cruelty. Even if ye don’t fight, the Brotherhood could save countless lives helping the citizens of the Empire escape the fighting, so is it not cruel to abandon the helpless to their fate when you could otherwise save them?”

“Oh but I am saving them.” Vyakhya’s wrinkled smile was as warm and friendly as ever, but his words chilled Jorani to the core. “Life itself is fleeting, but in death, the Defiled will bring peace and permanence to them all.” Chuckling, he corrected himself and said, “Better to say the one who guides them will do so. This great man has developed the answer to our prayers and will deliver what the Brotherhood has strove for since our inception. Using Anathema, Zhen Shi will break the cycle of reincarnation itself and consign all life, Defiled and Imperial alike, to nihility. In doing so, he will free their eternal souls from this state of perpetual suffering, for this death will be the last. Without rebirth, there can be no more death, no more trials and tribulations, which makes this a mercy, you see? Permanence provided for all aside from the Brotherhood, who will be left free to focus on our Path, without distractions from worldly affairs, because none will exist!”

Well...

Fuck.

“Yer insane.”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. Sadly, this monk must agree.” Appearing between Jorani and the old Healer was an even older monk in tattered grey robes, his head and face devoid of hair and wrinkled skin mottled with age spots. Palms pressed together, he bowed in prayer and said, “Such delusion, such sin, it pains this monk to see how far you, one of the five Wisdoms and named for Clarity of Thought, have fallen. Zhen Shi is a murderous fiend bent on destruction, so how can his word be trusted?”

“Who are you to speak of trust or murder?” Face twisted in ugly rage, Vyakhya’s spittle flew as he rebuked the stranger. “Did you truly close yourself in the wastelands to meditate in seclusion, or have you been hiding this entire time to see what I would reveal?”

“Such doubt, such suspicion. Do not gauge the heart of a gentleman by one’s own mean measure.” Shaking his head, the stranger nodded at the cavern entrance, where Jorani found the rooster glaring at him with vehemence. “This monk sensed Kukku’s apprehension and hurried over to save him. Short of Rakshasa coming out of hibernation, this monk believed nothing else could threaten him so, but thankfully this did not come to pass. However, this monk also overheard your conversation with this young man here, and it grieves me to learn of your betrayal. Turn back Brother, for there is no soul too far gone for redemption.”

“Hmph. I have no need to turn back, for my Path is True.”

“Then let us discuss.”

The stranger and Vyakhya both fell silent, but Jorani could see from the old Healer’s expression that they were debating through Sending. Back and forth the two went, arguing their respective points, and as long minutes ticked by, Jorani grew bored with the wait. Just as he considered lying down for a nap, the stranger bowed in prayer and said, “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. You would end all meaningless suffering, but in doing so, also deny countless souls the chance to ascend. How can you not see the cruelty of your ways?”

“A chance so infinitesimally small it might as well not exist, the carrot dangled before the mule so it continues ever forward. Definitive peace or implausible salvation, the choice is simple, but you refuse to see it. Your argument is flawed and our core values diametrically opposed, so you cannot convince me without addressing these issues.” Drawing himself up to full height, Vyakhya patted his chest and spread his arms wide, as if daring the stranger to attack. “Come then. Show your true colours and end my life. Is that not what the Abbot does to dissenters? Pei. You are a disgrace to the Brotherhood and the Precepts we uphold.”

Sighing in regret, the Abbot shook his head. “How many times must this monk tell you? None of our Brothers have died by my hands. If you seek our wayward Brothers, then you will find them at Zhen Shi’s side, provided they still live, but before you go, think on this: we walk the same Path to Divinity because we believe it worthwhile, but to claim it the only Path is both arrogant and ignorant. In a way, all Paths lead to Divinity, provided one has the courage to see theirs to conclusion.” Taken aback by the Abbot’s words, Vyakhya wavered in place but soon recovered. Shooting Jorani a look of disappointment, he disappeared from sight, probably off to find the mad scholar Zhen Shi and join the Defiled. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” the Abbot sighed, his voice filled with grief and regret. “Another sheep lost to the wolves, but such is life, trials and tribulations without end. Perhaps seeing the world will open your eyes, Brother, but I fear otherwise.” After a long pause, he turned to Jorani and said, “If Sir would be so kind as to explain, why did this monk’s Brother take you and your... companions hostage?”

With the danger passed and tension resolved, the strength flooded out from Jorani’s legs and he collapsed on the cot, trembling from head to toe as his body worked off the nervous energy. “Well,” he said, wishing he had a drink to calm his nerves, “It’s a long story, but here goes.”

When Jorani finally finished the telling, he lay back in his cot and left the Abbot to do his thing, whether it be waking the others or tossing everyone off the cliff and washing his hands of this mess. Either way, Jorani was too tired, hungry, and thirsty to care right now, so he closed his eyes and prayed his dream harem was still waiting where he left them. If Vyakhya had been telling the truth about the time frame, then there was plenty of time to make it to Ral and Chey’s wedding, which Jorani was thankful for. He still didn’t have a date to the festivities, but oddly enough, he didn’t mind it so much. All he wanted to do was see his friend exchange vows with his wife, then maybe give a toast starting with an indecent joke.

Maybe something about eunuchs and giant roosters...

Chapter Meme