Chapter 41- Hearing the True Dao Preached in the Morning

“When the heart becomes serene, much as ice and snow melt without the knowledge or sensation that they are melting, a ray of numinous light will suddenly appear. Not only do others not know when this happens, one has no sense of it oneself. At this moment, all things become utterly clear, no thoughts are born and it seems as though there is nothing- from the heavens to the earth to the myriad things- that does not flow through one’s true self. This is what is called “nurturing vast qi.” It is the zenith of enormity and righteousness, filling all between the cosmos and the earth.”

The words spilled from the lips of a girl no older than ten, dressed in beautiful red silk robes. The collar of the robes were black with dried blood. Someone had driven an iron spike through the gap between shoulder and neck, down through her body and into the stone platform she sat on. The iron had been etched with esoteric shapes and lines, symbols resembling demons or serpents or birds, monsters of such complex forms they strained the eyes to comprehend them.

She spoke with an old man’s voice, or rather, the voice of a ten year old girl speaking like an old man.

“That which is full and substantial is obscure, hidden true yang. That which is empty and substanceless is the dragon and tiger double-eight new moon qi. The key is nothing more than using that which has form to refine and extract the formless primordial qi. Only by doing so can it be made into the elixir.”

A tan child, a farmer’s boy, explained. He had the air of a senior imparting the dao to a favored junior, and seemed to be forcing his voice to match. He, too, was nailed to the stone platform in his beautiful red robes. Blood flowing from under him, mingling with the girl’s blood as it ran down the platform and into a stone gutter.

“A human body and its sensory organs includes the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. From these come seeing, hearing, speaking, movement, and all manner of expression and behavior. All of our comings and goings, or social obligations, and our hundreds of daily activities arise chaotically from the body and its organs. From them come the fire of passion and desire, pretense and recklessness. Our original, perfect brightness is dimmed by objects and phenomena. Our self control is lost. It is not things that burden humans, but humans who burden themselves with things.”

The girl with a pushed up nose and a bit of a squint explained it with an old man’s compassion as she, too, bled into the trough.

“Brother, can you…?” Hong breathed the words softly.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Rule number one, and it’s a big rule, is that if something is stuck in, you leave it there until the real doctors can take care of it. The iron spike is what’s plugging the holes through their blood vessels and organs. The array here is all that’s keeping the kids alive.”

“We either break the array and kill them, or leave them here fueling whatever heretical thing is happening? No. Fuck that. I don’t accept this. We will figure something out.” Hong shook her head violently.

“Agreed. Where is the crane?”

There was a loud, distinctly impatient, cry from behind the statue. Tian couldn’t bring himself to smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He started to move towards the statue, then paused. This close he could feel the immortal breath from the crane, but hadn’t when he was outside. The only immortal breath he could sense then was the crippled and dying archer.

“Ren. This formation is somehow related to that blind musician Ren, from the Copper Roofed Inn. I’m not sensing the flow of elements or the breath of immortality from the crane.” Tian said, kept moving towards the statue. It was a hideous thing, made worse by the skill and care shown by its creator.

The crane was in an iron cage, though mercifully not pierced through with iron rods. It was mad as hell, which Tian thought was fair. He’d be mad as hell too. He was mad as hell. He was just pushing all his emotions far, far away and trying to keep that empty feeling. Trying to just float along.

The cage was crafter wrought steel, but it wasn’t part of an array or enchanted. It was a bird cage, held closed by a simple lock. The Black Acacia heretic must have kept her enchanted one.

“Did you happen to find the key?” Tian asked

“No. You can tell I didn’t, by the way she is still in the cage. Did you grab the storage ring of that Great Chief?”

“I… completely forgot.” Tian shrugged. Hong gave him a filthy look, then took off up the stairs.

Tian pet the crane through the bars. “We will soon have you out. Then we have to figure out how we are going to get these kids free. Maybe interrogate the archer before he dies. Then I have to have a conversation with Sis’ Liren about what, exactly, went on after we got attacked, and what the Monastery is doing about things.”

“It’s a lot. Ever have something be better and worse at the same time?” Hong arrived in a gust of cool, outside air. The ritual chamber was warmer than Tian would have guessed. All those lamps burning heated the air, and added an extra unpleasant smell over the dried blood, piss and ashes.

“Often. Find the key?”

“Found a lot.” They opened the cage, and the crane burst out, rushing up the stairs and flying off into the sky. Tian didn’t blame her one bit. He’d have done the exact same thing.

“Where’s the archer?”

“They dragged him into a room upstairs. We can interrogate him later, I’ve broken his arms and legs. Brother, we can’t just leave these kids!”

“We aren’t going to. We also aren’t going to be able to free them without a lot more information. Have you listened to what they are saying?” Tian gestured to the rows of sitting children.

“No. I was a little distracted by the iron spikes and blood! And the crane.”

“They are speaking with the same voice, but through different throats. They aren’t reciting the same things. In fact, it looks like they are giving lectures on the dao. Not heretical crap either, from what I can tell. Listen.” Tian pointed towards a pale, moon faced boy that looked like he should have spent his life in silks.

“We temporarily get involved in something or other and proceed to call it ‘myself,’ but how can we know if what we call ‘self’ has any ‘self’ to it? You dream you are a bird and find yourself soaring the heavens, a fish swimming in the depths- how could I know if I am speaking to someone dreaming or awake? An encounter with something pleasurable does not reach the smile it inspires, laughter does not reach the joke. It is when you are comfortable in stillness, constantly forgetting each transformation. That is when you enter into the oneness of the clear sky, of empty Heaven.” The moon-faced boy sounded like an old man teasing a child while trying to explain something serious.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Hong stared at the boy for a moment, then glanced at Tian.

“He said your name.”

“He said a lot of things. The kids have mentioned fire and burning too. They aren’t talking to us, they are repeating something they are hearing, or something is speaking through them. Something with a vast understanding of the dao. The heretics knew it too. Look, there are prayer mats set up in front of the kids. I bet if you look around, you would find records of what they spoke.” Tian said. Hong held up a storage ring and, a moment later, pulled out a few books.

“Seven volumes of notes. Damn them. Damn them!”

“Take a look at the statue too. A gold dragon, with five claws on each hand, being pushed down into a bloody trough by a five clawed black dragon. Didn’t you tell me once that a five clawed dragon is a sign of the imperial family?”