The next morning, Chún rose before the Golden Crow stirred. Cool air carrying the dry scent of straw and timber met him as he lifted himself from the thin cotton pad in the abandoned barn's loft, where he was grudgingly allowed to sleep.
He had told the villagers about his departure the night before. To those he did chores for, he had said he was travelling "to broaden his horizons." There was no reason to wait for them to wake, especially if he was to be back up the mountain before first light.
With the ease of long practice, he bundled the sleeping pad and his two changes of castoff clothing into a tight roll and hung it on his herding staff—walking staff, now. He climbed carefully down the old ladder, then went around the barn gathering his few remaining possessions into a worn sack: a fire starter, some hand-woven rope and the other odds and ends he had collected over his childhood.
Last came yesterday's still-full skin of watered wine and two small, withered apples. The goose keeper had given him those for yesterday's herding; naturally, Chún had collected his payment before mentioning that he was leaving. He hung the wine at his right hip and tucked the apples into the pouch on his left, beside the few copper coins he had found here and there.
He yawned and stretched, working the last of sleep from his limbs, then adjusted his clothing to shake out the worst of the wrinkles. Crouching, he tied off the sack and slung its strap across his chest. The weight settled against his back as he straightened, took up his staff and stepped briskly into the quiet predawn.
The barn stood on the village's fringe, so he could head directly towards the mountain. A glance at the stars told him he had about half a shí before the Golden Crow rose. If he hurried, he could detour to the waterfall and still have time to bathe and scrub his spare clothes on the way to the Thousand Year Grass.
By the time Chún reached yesterday's pasture, the sky was paling over the Golden Crow's nest. The last stars faded behind him as birds began their morning salute to their Senior Ancestor.
He looked around, but could see no one. It was still too cool to wait under the trees beside the Thousand Year Grass, so he returned to the boulder and undid his bedding roll. He spread the freshly washed clothes across its flat top, where the first light would warm and dry them, then settled with his back against the cool stone.
Facing the slowly rising fire, he drew an apple from his pouch and closed his eyes in contentment. Free of that place at last. It felt as though a thousand catties had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever lay ahead, he would not go back.
He bit into the apple, chewing slowly and savouring its sharp sweetness. Remembering Yijing's words from yesterday, he tried to push his Essence outward and feel the mountain waking with the light. This time, only faint sounds reached him: distant chimes, bells, low drums and something like the horn the village head used to summon everyone for a meeting. Stranger sounds lay among them, most unlike anything he had heard before.
The Golden Crow's light struck the mountain. Instinctively, Chún squeezed his closed eyes tighter as the entire mountain rang like a giant gong.
He reeled. Fire-natured Essence and pure energy surged into the mountain from the horizon. The land drank deeply, glowing green, blue and white as plants and animals absorbed all they could. His own body shone gold. Strength sank into his bones and burrowed through his marrow, far more powerful than yesterday's ignition wave, yet astonishingly gentle. His tiredness washed away; every bone hummed.
The mountain's colour deepened to an almost black emerald. Everything living upon it, Chún included, blazed brighter and brighter until a brilliant flash swept through them. Mountain, plants and creatures released their excess together. Thousands of overlapping waves of colour and sound crashed over everything, through everything.
All this takes many words to describe, but it happened between one breath and the next. Chún gasped, his Essence shoved back inside him. He felt as though he had been remade anew while being run down by a herd of cattle.
Behind him came Yijing's voice, touched with quiet amusement. "If you are not expecting it, Xiǎo Chún, Crow-rise can be a little bracing…"
"Teacher—" Chún tried to get to his feet and toppled onto his side. His limbs would not obey him; he flailed awkwardly, still trying to rise.
"Stop. Breathe slowly, calmly, and relax," Yijing instructed. "Your body has just taken part in an immense exchange of energy and Essence. A great deal of refinement happened in those few breaths. It needs time to adjust."
Chún stopped struggling and attended to his breathing. Slowly, control returned to his limbs. He pushed himself up onto the boulder beside his teacher, gingerly at first, then more confidently as his body responded with unfamiliar strength.
"Does that happen every Crow-rise, Teacher?" he asked after a few breaths. The old man handed him his clothes, rolled up and mysteriously dry. Chún tied the bundle to his walking staff as he listened.
"The world's energy and Essence, with a few exceptions, begin with the Golden Crow." Yijing swept a hand around them. "All living things take in that energy, including ourselves. It fuels life—and life is itself a concept of Dao. As Dao forms and expresses itself, it creates Essence." His hand opened outward. "That Essence is released back into the world."
"I thought Dao was a grand mystery?" Chún asked. "At least, that is what the village storyteller says."
Yijing nodded. "Most people believe that. But Dao simply is. And for anything to be, it must also have Dao."
"So everything has Dao? Even the grass?" Chún worked through it slowly. "And when we gave it more… more energy, it could change its Dao to Thousand Year Grass?"
"It did not change its Dao, Student. It is still grass, after all. It broke through to a higher level of Dao. Comprehending Dao is an act of creation, and creation releases energy and Essence. Afterwards, there is more than before."
Chún fell quiet. Birdsong and the chuckle of the stream at the far end of the pasture filled the pause while he considered what Yijing had said.
"If we are all living beings, Teacher, then we all have Dao? People as well?"
"Yes, Student. Most people, though, will never naturally gather enough energy for their Dao to grow as ours does. It is the same with animals: most never become Essence beasts. Occasionally, a person or animal encounters so much Essence that their Dao matures of its own accord. They begin to comprehend Dao and generate more Essence themselves. But that is very rare."
Yijing paused to drink from his gourd, tilting it back before letting out a quiet breath. "It has been a long time since I spoke so much." He replaced the stopper, frowned, then resumed.
"Less rare—though still not seen in a thousand million people—is someone who comes to comprehend Dao through contemplation or enlightenment. That understanding ignites its natural growth within them. They, too, can be considered True Cultivators."
He waved a hand loosely. "Whether they reached that point through a fortunate encounter, enlightenment, or were born connected to Dao as we were, they can pass something of that fortune to their children. A True Cultivator's child is born with a body closer to the perfect form of its Dao than the child of ordinary parents. The child must still comprehend that Dao to grow, but the possibility is there from birth."
His eyes rolled as his voice turned airy. "Thus, all those celebrated 'Heaven's Fortunes' bodies. Perfect Yang body, Perfect Yin body…" He flicked his fingers as though brushing away flies. "…body of the Extra Excellent Kicking of the Donkey, and so on. Consumers may be born with them—or acquire them, if they spend enough resources. Do you understand, Student?"
The mocking expression was too much. Chún laughed, quickly covering his mouth with a hand. "I have never heard anyone speak so disrespectfully about Culti—I mean Consumers—as you, Teacher."
"Trust me," Yijing replied dryly, "once you meet a few, you will understand. Their 'cultivation techniques' artificially create a Dao within their bodies, disconnected from the Dao around them. Everything they do is built upon that. It twists their minds. Every one of them greedy for more resources, happy to step over anybody else to obtain them. The only reason we are not completely overrun is that they spend so much time and effort killing each other."
He sighed, his posture folding inward. For a moment, he looked much older. "The worst part," he continued wearily, "is that usually they are not even practising the Dao their body was born with. That is why you hear of Consumers crippling themselves with a technique, going mad, dying, or struggling endlessly to 'break through'."
He let out a humourless breath. "The ones who succeed are worse. They rebuild themselves around flawed Dao. Of course they become broken in mind and spirit—and never see it."
Yijing's gaze drifted into the morning Crowlight. Chún had the feeling that his teacher no longer saw him, but was looking at something only he could see.
Chún did not interrupt. He sat enjoying the warmth and wind on his skin, the cool air carrying scents of plants, damp earth and water. Birds called among the trees; insects hummed in the grass. Beneath them, somewhere in the corner of his mind, he heard a gentle hum of happiness from the mountain. Content to remain in that quiet, he closed his eyes.
Without conscious effort, his Essence slipped outward, more easily than before. Colours opened across his perception, currents running through the Dao of everything around him. He could sense his body drawing Essence in and breathing it out again, his energy refreshed with each exchange. The excess passed into the world in gentle ripples, briefly brightening whatever they touched.
"Life gives, life takes
All is one
All is Dao."
As he sang, the ripples brightened. Across the pasture, plants fell into the beat of his song, their colours shifting with his voice as each wave reached them. Some of the nearer ones trembled and sent out ripples of their own. Motes of energy and curls of Essence drifted from them like smoke from a fire.
The waves spread and crossed through the meadow. Each living thing absorbed a ripple and released its own, setting off another exchange. Touches of colour passed between them: brown in a rock, blue in the creek, green in a bush. The whole meadow seemed to move in waves of mingling energy and brightening Essence.
"Water runs swift;
Earth is strength,
Reborn in Fire;
Air is life.
Dao is all
All is one."
Chún sensed his teacher stir. Amid those exchanges, Yijing was a blazing fountain. Brilliant energies poured from him without ceasing, barely any flowing inward. Chún supposed he had comprehended his Dao and could create his own energy without drawing upon the World. Wherever he went, the energy around him deepened. Already, the mountain's Essence felt heavier and more complex than it had yesterday.
Strange curls of Essence passed between Yijing and the mountain, almost like characters or pieces of interlocking structures. As the mountain's energy grew heavier, Chún could almost sense something forming within it. He had glimpsed something like it before—the odd diagram that appeared when the Thousand Year Grass advanced and ignited its Dao.
"Well done, Student. It is unfocused and weak, but you are channelling Essence to strengthen the world around you. The singing helps direct and focus it. It is your Dao, so you should continue to develop it."
Chún withdrew his senses, opened his eyes and turned towards Yijing. "Your Essence flows outward without ceasing, Teacher."
"If you survive this world and become one with Dao, yours will as well. You will create more than you receive—like those World-level existences I mentioned yesterday, but without having to consume more than you create."
Chún nodded, then hesitated. "Teacher, you said all Consumers use flawed techniques. Surely some techniques are correct? If someone found one that matched their Dao, would it not help them comprehend it more quickly?"
Yijing smiled fondly. "I am glad you are thinking about what I teach, Student, rather than merely accepting it. A technique can match one's Dao, yes. Unfortunately, few Consumers choose on that basis. Even the great Families and Sects often choose for their youngsters according to tradition and what is expected."
He raised his hand and curled down one finger. "Firstly, almost no Consumer understands Dao as part of themselves. They believe they must reach it through cultivation techniques. Those techniques artificially construct fragments of Dao within their bodies. If they are fortunate, their own Dao accepts the fragments and changes. If not…"
A second finger curled down. "Even those who understand something of this tend to think in family lines. A family passes down the 'Three-Faced Donkey Fart Technique', for example. Their ancestors cultivated it successfully; perhaps it was even the Dao of the Ancestor who first passed it down. It may suit their descendants in a general way, and they may have a good measure of success with it."
He snorted. "But it will almost never fit exactly. They progress well when young, then find it harder as they grow older. Many sect and family cultivators remain stuck in the middle layers of strength, unable to advance no matter how many 'Heaven-defying' resources they burn."
His hand closed into a fist, and he glared. "Finally, there is an insurmountable problem. All Consumer techniques are incomplete by their very nature."
Chún blinked. "How can that be? Surely they would have noticed…"
"Oh, they have." Yijing gave a short, ironic laugh. "They say a true student of the Jianghu must comprehend their own techniques to really grow. But most are working from an incomplete foundation, and they overlook what that means."
Chún shook his head. "I do not understand."
His teacher waved his stave, setting its chimes ringing. "The source of creation, power, cultivation—whatever you call it—is Dao, yes?"
Chún nodded uncertainly. "It grows from within us, constantly changing and growing stronger or weaker?"
"Precisely." Yijing sounded pleased. "So, can you understand all of Dao? Even your own?"
"No… you can only become one with Dao, a part of it. And every Dao is part of all Dao. Even the village storyteller said that." Chún frowned.
"And what did I say a technique was?" Yijing rested his hands on his stave and waited.
"A way… to artificially create a… Dao…" Chún straightened. "But if Dao cannot be completely understood, then a technique cannot contain all of it. So it is flawed."
Yijing snorted. "Correct. Only a Dao knows how to be what it is. You must follow its direction for it to be created within you. A technique is like a description of the world written on a scroll. You cannot expect the scroll and the world to be the same thing."
Chún crumpled in disappointment. "Then you cannot teach me any Dao or techniques to become strong, Teacher?"
"They would be useless to you if I did." The old man smiled indulgently and poked him in the chest with the tip of his stave. "Your Dao is in here. Listen to it, and it will show you what it needs to grow."
The stave came down with a resonant thump, its chimes ringing. A nearby flock of grass pigeons took wing, cooing in warning.
"This is what separates True Cultivators from Consumers. We can sense the Dao within us and around us. We strengthen it, and it strengthens us in return. Consumers choose a flawed Dao and force their bodies to follow it. They use the energy of the resources and Essence they consume to remake themselves until they match."
He continued, "They are not connected to the world as we are. They hold that energy within themselves; when it is exhausted or destroyed, they are mortal."
Chún rubbed his chest, feeling a little hard done by. The villagers had barely allowed him to learn his basic characters, and then only because they wanted him to do bookkeeping chores. How was an orphan like him supposed to know all this?
"But Essence beasts do not use techniques…" he grumbled. Then he paused. "Oh… beasts are more naturally connected to the world. They follow their instincts. So Essence beasts cultivate their Dao naturally?"
Yijing nodded approvingly. "Good. You reason well. That is why Essence beasts are themselves Essence resources, even at low levels. Generally speaking, humans only become meaningful resources when they begin to generate more Essence than they consume."
"There is another exception, one that occurs reasonably often," Yijing continued. "A Consumer may have no access to a Family or Sect's established techniques and resources. Out of great need or desperation, they may comprehend their own Dao—through fortunate encounters, or by following their instincts from the start."
He went on, "They may still consume resources, but often these are the ones Heaven and Earth provide for them. They do not need an excess to achieve results, and they far outpace other Consumers at the same level."
A smirk crossed his face. "Those Cultivators I have fewer quarrels with. They drive the established Consumers mad with frustration, as so-called 'trash' outperforms them at every turn. Developing their own Dao brings them closer to the world. Those who survive reach True Cultivation quickly, returning what they consumed—and often adding to it."
Yijing paused, then shook his furiously chiming stave at Chún. "Can you think why a Cultivator starting from nothing often has greater success than a Consumer?"
"Yes, Teacher." Chún nodded. "From what you have said, they follow natural Dao, even without knowing it. So the technique they create would be closer to their own Dao, and give them better results." He worked through the rest more slowly. "And following natural Dao means you are aligned with the Heavens. They would grant fortunate chances… suitable techniques and resources… because Dao always works towards completion?"
Yijing nodded eagerly. "As far as True Cultivators have been able to observe, that is the case. Hence, you must always strive to follow Dao and not seek shortcuts."
He took a long drink from his gourd, then passed it to Chún. While Chún drank, his teacher resumed speaking. "Student, there are still quite a few things I must teach you before I leave, so do not worry. You may not learn the 'Three-Headed Donkey Fart Technique' from me, but I am still qualified to be your teacher."
The old man hopped off the boulder and gestured for Chún to follow, turning towards the stream and the trees. "Now, come. The Golden Crow grows too warm to remain beneath its full gaze."
Chún faltered, staring at him. "You… you are leaving me, Teacher?" He scrambled off the boulder and hurried after the old man.
"In no more than a day or two, Xiǎo Chún." Yijing's bells jingled with each step. "It is necessary. You must follow your Dao, not mine. If I stayed, even with the best intentions, you would begin to follow mine more than your own and become flawed."
He gestured towards the slopes beyond the pasture. "Besides, the longer I remain, the more Essence the mountain will gather. Given enough, it will form its Dao and become a Treasure Mountain. Stronger Essence is good for you—it makes it easier for you to grow. But if the Mountain wakes fully without your help, you will be overwhelmed."
They continued across the pasture, the murmur of the stream growing clearer ahead. "You must be the one to ignite its Dao. It is already a part of you, and the process will be excellent training. With you here on your own, it will grow with you, strengthening you as you strengthen it."
"You make it sound as if the mountain will be my partner, Teacher," Chún panted.
"Yes. When True Cultivators take our first steps, each of us forms a closer connection to one place than anywhere else. Such a place is called a locus. This is an excellent one. I stopped here because I saw signs that a True Cultivator had formed a connection with the mountain, and I wished to find out who it was."
Yijing glanced sideways and winked. "I was amazed to find someone I did not know. New True Cultivators are rare. According to True Cultivator law, the one who discovers you must evaluate and instruct you. In this case, that responsibility is mine."
The stream ran clear over the stones ahead. Yijing thumped his stave on the ground. "A locus continues to help us grow and defend ourselves, no matter how far we travel. Its help reaches us through the land we stand on, and any excess Essence we channel benefits it in return. Eventually, we produce more than we use and no longer rely on loci—but that takes thousands of years."
Chún tripped over his own feet and fell beside the stream. The water seemed to chuckle as it ran over the stones. "Thousands of years… what?"
Yijing rolled his eyes and extended a hand, hauling him to his feet. "Constantly renewing flows of energy, following your Dao to grow… You will not die of age, Xiǎo Chún. An Essence beast might take a liking to you, though… or a hot-headed Consumer might run you through with a sword… or hit you with a technique…"
Chún stared after him as Yijing hopped across the stream and continued towards the trees, his voice carrying back over his shoulder. "…or you get hit by falling rocks… immolated by a Dao ignition… struck by more Tribulation lightning than you can absorb…" His voice grew fainter as he walked into the shade. "…choke on a chicken bone…"
Chún sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Perhaps it is a good thing Teacher is leaving…?" Then he raised his voice and hurried after the eccentric old man. "Teacher, wait for me!"