After reaching the cave abode he took the broad sword out
The sword lay on the stone floor of the cave, its dark blade catching the faint light that filtered through the entrance. Lin had stared at it for a long moment, his heart beating with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. He had seen others fly—the Guide Uncle, Fang Yi, the masked disciples who came and went like shadows. But he had never attempted it himself.
It cannot be that difficult, he thought. If they can do it, so can I.
He placed the sword on the floor, its flat surface facing upward. Then he stepped onto it, his feet finding their balance with the ease of long practice. The blade was cool beneath his sandals, and for a moment, nothing happened.
He focused his qi, directing it to the bottom of the sword.
The blade rose.
violent ascent he had seen in others. But slowly, steadily, as if the sword was learning to obey his will. Lin felt his stomach lurch as his feet left the ground, but he forced himself to remain calm, to maintain his focus.
Higher, he thought. I need to go higher.
He applied more qi, and the sword rose another few feet. The cave walls rushed past him, and suddenly he was level with the entrance, the outside world visible through the opening.
A smile spread across his face—genuine, unguarded, the smile of someone experiencing a new kind of freedom for the first time.
I am flying, he thought. I am actually flying.
He guided the sword forward, applying qi to its back to propel it through the air. The blade responded immediately, shooting forward with a speed that made Lin's hair whip backward. The cave entrance rushed toward him, and then he was outside, the open sky spreading before him like an endless canvas.
The wind was cold against his face, but Lin did not mind. He laughed a sound of pure joy that echoed across the mountain slopes. Below him, the forests of Dove Peak stretched out like a green carpet, and above him, the sky was a vast, blue dome that seemed to go on forever.
I can go anywhere, he thought. Anywhere I want.
He turned the sword toward the southeast, toward the distant glimmer of the city of Tianzhou. The blade responded immediately, its speed increasing as Lin fed it more qi. His control of the qi had improved dramatically since reaching the Foundation Realm his qi manipulation was now precise enough to guide the blade with the same ease that he might guide a pencil across paper.
He flew above the clouds, the golden sun shining down on him like a blessing from heaven. The clouds parted beneath him, revealing the landscape below mountains and forests, rivers and plains, all painted in shades of green and gold.
And then, in the distance, the clouds vanished entirely.
The city of Tianzhou lay before him, its buildings glowing in the light of the setting sun. It was a vast metropolis, stretching as far as the eye could see, its streets filled with people, its markets bustling with activity.
Lin turned his sword downward, descending toward the city's edge.
He landed near the market district, where even at this evening hour, the streets were crowded with people. Merchants called out their wares, children ran through the crowds, and the air was thick with the sounds of laughter, argument, and song.
Lin stood for a moment, taking it all in.
The market was a living thing a chaotic symphony of emotions and sensations. He saw merchants bargaining with customers, their faces animated with the passion of negotiation. He saw lovers walking hand in hand, their eyes filled with the soft glow of affection. He saw beggars huddled in corners, their faces etched with the lines of desperation. He saw children playing, their laughter a bright counterpoint to the darker tones of the city.
So many emotions, he thought. So many lives, all intersecting in this single place.
He spotted an inn nearby a modest building with a wooden sign that read "The Drunken Crane." The smell of food wafted from its entrance, and Lin's stomach growled in response. He had not eaten since the morning, and the journey had left him hungry.
He walked inside.
The inn was warm and crowded, filled with the sounds of chatter and the clinking of cups. Lin found an empty table in the corner and sat down, his back to the wall, his eyes scanning the room with the instinctive caution of someone who had learned that danger could come from anywhere.
A waiter appeared, his face flushed from the heat of the kitchen.
"What can I get for you, young master?" the man asked, his voice carrying the practiced cheerfulness of someone who had served countless customers.
"One bowl of noodles," Lin said. "Nothing else."
The waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
Lin sat in silence, his mind drifting as he waited for his food. The chatter of the inn washed over him like a river, carrying with it fragments of conversations, snippets of stories, the endless murmur of human life.
A temporary name, he thought, remembering the Peak Lord's words. A name that represents who I am.
He considered his journey so far. The five years of training in the heart of the mountain. The understanding that had allowed him to redirect an elder's qi pressure. The spiral foundation he had built within his dantian.
What am I? he wondered. What do I represent?
Am I a kind person? Or am I evil?
He thought about his past life the suffering, the betrayal, the knife in his chest. He thought about his rebirth the god's offer, the acceptance, the determination to live. He thought about the choices he had made, the paths he had walked, the people he had encountered.
Am I kind? he asked himself. Or am I evil?
The answer came to him slowly, like a mist clearing to reveal a landscape.
A person in this world can never be kind, he thought. And a person can never be evil. When a person is evil to himself, he is kind to others. When he is kind to himself, he is evil to others.
Thus, no one is truly evil or truly kind. There is only... him.
Someone who does not walk the path of evil. Someone who does not walk the path of kindness.
Someone who is pathless.
Lin smiled, the name forming in his mind like a blade being forged.
Pathless, he thought. I will call myself Pathless.
Lin Xuan may be my given name—but in this world, names are earned.
His noodles arrived, steam rising from the bowl in fragrant tendrils. Lin ate slowly, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal. The broth was rich, the noodles perfectly cooked, and the vegetables were fresh and flavorful.
As he ate, his thoughts turned to the mission board.
The Peak Lord had encouraged him to consider it—not for the rewards, but for the experience. For the chance to test his understanding against the world.
But Lin did not need experience.
He had lived a life before this one a life filled with suffering, struggle, and pain. He had experienced betrayal and loss, hunger and cold, despair and death. He had walked through the shadows of the human condition and emerged on the other side.
I have experience, he thought. More experience than most cultivators will ever have.
The mission board is not for me. Not yet, at least.but it may be useful in the future
Perhaps someday, when I need to test myself against the world. But for now...
He pulled a silver coin from his sack and placed it on the table. It was more than enough to cover the meal, and the waiter's eyes widened when he saw it.
"Young master," the waiter said, his voice filled with gratitude, "this is too much—"
"Keep it," Lin said, rising from his seat. "Consider it a tip."
The waiter bowed repeatedly, his face beaming with joy. "Thank you, young master! Thank you! May the heavens bless you!"
Lin walked out of the inn, the sound of the waiter's gratitude fading behind him.
The sun had set, and the moon had risen a pale, silver disc that cast its light across the world like a blessing from the heavens. Lin stood on his sword once more, rising above the rooftops of Tianzhou, the city spreading out beneath him like a carpet of stars.
The night air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of distant forests and the faint song of night birds. Below him, the city's lights flickered like fireflies, and the sounds of the evening drifted upward—laughter, music, the distant bark of a dog.
Lin soared above the clouds, the moonlight painting his face in shades of silver and shadow.