[MA] 174. Acceptance (Patreon)

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| Rift Dweller (D) | +1,250 → 1,283,582 AP

Shen frowned when he got the late notification. The gnoll tactic had worked; although aware of the ruse, he had been so worried about humanity that he hadn't noticed the help on the way or the fact that the system hadn't awarded him right when the gnoll died.

He had been sure of his kill because the enemy's aura instantly disappeared, then he had felt the enemy's corpse with his own aura. The system was already slow when turning dead rift dweller bodies into light, but this was the first time that the notification was also delayed.

That was somewhat worrying. The system was at the heart of a lot of things on new Earth. If it could underperform, could it also miss a crime being committed? What if it didn't instantly deliver him a healing crystal when he bought one?

He would have to take that into account going forward.

Alice's savior was a muscular old man with long black hair and beard. He wore a black martial arts robe with a similar cut to the ones Shen used, though with silver details and a silver tiger insignia on the back and left chest.

His sword was what the Chinese called jian. It had a straight thin blade and a small crossguard, just like what Shen recalled being a favorite in the Eternal Empire. The Immortal Emperor himself was a swordsman, and his sword had been so beautiful that it inspired many songs. Unfortunately, Shen had never had the opportunity to meet the Eternal Emperor, much less the honor of witnessing his bare weapon.

The newcomer had the perfect poise of a proper cultivator. His clothes were seamless with no bend mark or knead. His long hair was held in a bun that the Chinese called touji. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. His beard was similarly well combed and controlled.

More importantly, Shen recognized the silver tiger.

That man was clad in the colors and symbol of the Yinhu Clan.

The Eternal Empire was ruled by the Immortal Emperor. His Imperial Judges held almost as much dignity and power as the Emperor himself, yet they used it only in matters of justice. Any other authority the Emperor delegated passed first by the Nine Imperial Seats.

The Emperor alone occupied the First Seat, the Long Clan the Second Seat, and the Feng Clan had the Third Seat. His father had killed the Cai Clan's leader. The Cai Clan, then holder of the Fourth Seat, had had enough enemies that it hadn't resisted the fall of its strongest cultivator and leader. The Fourth Seat was thus left empty.

Usually, when that happened, the Emperor commanded the existing Seats to move up and appointed a new Ninth Seat. However, on that occasion, he had appointed the Yinhu Clan to fulfill the Fourth Seat's duties and decreed that none should challenge them for it for a thousand years.

That had caused many worries. Many a clan without a Seat was mightier or more honorable than the Yinhu Clan. A few were both more powerful and honorable. Yet, the Emperor had appointed them. No one knew why, and things were made worse because even Feng Shen, a cripple, had heard whispers of them forcing dual cultivation on unwilling partners to progress their Path.

Not even five days after their ascension, they had started accusing the Feng Clan of unlawful use of force while dealing with the Cai Clan. That was expected because they didn't want to be seen as owing the Feng Clan for creating the vacancy in the Imperial Seats. Yet, they had pursued the matter much more insistently than needed—to the point they demanded an Imperial Judge to investigate matters.

Shen recalled the days when the shadows in the corner of his eyes seemed to move, yet he could never find anything wrong when he looked at them. He hadn't known then that the Emperor had heard the Yinhu Clan's pleads but, instead of appointing a Judge, had taken the matter into his own hands. The spies directly under his command, the Dark Hand, had all but ignored the defenses of the Third Seat's headquarters and laid bare all of the Feng Clan's secrets.

The mortal Shen had been too stupid to lock down on the spies, but now he recalled how his father had been easier to angry at the time. How he seemed to look at seemingly nothing at random, probably noticing something Shen couldn't.

And how, after the things came to light, Feng Yang had still told his clan to trust the Immortal Emperor. "The Immortal Emperor is Karma, incarnated and potentialized for good," he had said. "He pays back grievances tenfold and repays all debts he owes a hundredfold. We did nothing wrong, and after he concludes so, we shall be repaid for every secret of ours he exposed."

Now, Shen could see through it all.

Back then, the clan had pursued matters it shouldn't and ignored others it should've cared about. It had made the Emperor cautious, mainly because the truth was hard to believe: Feng Yang was wasting his clan's resources to try to heal his son. Feng Yang had pretended not to care for Feng Shen to keep him safer after his mother had been poisoned to death. He had been so good at it that even the Emperor had bought it.

After Feng Yang killed the Fourth Seat's leader for honor and caused the entire Cai Clan's downfall, the Emperor used the Yinhu Clan as an excuse to investigate the Feng Clan. He didn't need to do that, his orders were absolute, but it softened the blow and let the Feng Clan retain some honor if they were cleared out. At the same time, it would allow the Feng Clan to seek retribution from the Yinhu Clan when the thousand years were over. Maybe that was even the Emperor's way of destroying the Yinhu Clan, shrouded in rumors of evil cultivation, without direct interference.

Shen wondered if that had happened. Did the Feng Clan even have the power for that after his father left them with debt that he had claimed would take thousands of years to repay? Even if they used their last Eternal Token to seek help from the Emperor to protect themselves, would they even have the time to challenge the Yinhu Clan when they had more pressing matters to deal with?

Whatever the case, a dog of the Yinhu Clan was left on Earth.

Shen had a decision to make. The honor that pushed him to demand an explanation from the man for past deeds also insisted he shouldn't. The cultivator had saved Alicia, and the Immortal Emperor had commanded Shen not to mention the Eternal Empire to anyone. How could he pursue a matter that shouldn't exist?

He decided to keep the peace until Earth was safe. He could think things through in a more opportune time.

Not to mention that, although he doubted it, mortals might have found leftovers from the Eternal Empire, and that man—and the ten thousand people with him—might only be using replicas from the Yinhu Clan.

He wouldn't show them his back even once, though.

"Inspect," Shen whispered.

Once more, the system didn't respond quickly enough. He still didn't know the man's name or rank when he arrived beside the human survivors. By then, enough time had passed for the man to keep running and decapitate the defenseless gnoll on the ground.

That had also been enough time for Shen to get awe-struck.

Back in the Eternal Empire's time, Feng Shen had been little more than a mortal amid cultivators. He had had the privilege of memorizing books and techniques and watching them executed by some clan members. Still, his had been a mortal's mind with no understanding of the deeper meaning of many a thing he read or saw. His memorized texts could provide him with the technical execution behind everything, and he realized even the system only pushed cold knowledge from the Skills into his mind, but not their...

How should he put it?

Not their art? No, that was wrong. Their truth? Almost.

Then he saw the man move again, and he got it:

Not their soul.

Any doubt that this man was an ancient cultivator disappeared as Shen watched his movements. There was a fluidity to them that went beyond what Shen knew from his mastered Flow. A harmony that made what he considered a harmonized martial arts a joke.

Shen's every move had become extremely effective after mastering Flow and Zephyr. He wasted next to no stamina and potentialized the outcome of everything he did with minute movements. He was indeed a master of Combat, a spearman without equal on Earth—and seemingly also on the rift.

But that cultivator—

| Yinhu Shuzui (G) — 200 / 200

Finally, the system replied to his query.

That Yinhu Clan's member, who wasn't even a Guardian, made Shen recall what being a cultivator actually meant on the field of battle.

Shuzui stepped further ahead and got next to the closest gnoll. He moved merely at Mach 12, yet there was a grace to his movements that made him feel both faster and slower than that at the same time. He was using footwork, yes, but Shen could tell that his actions went beyond the boundaries of movement art, Skill, or technique. Shen was only sure of the man's speed because his aura let him perfectly analyze Shuzui.

Then it dawned on him: Yinhu Shuzui understood his own existence.

Shuzui's every action was an expression of his Path, which he understood and was intimately. He wasn't like Shen, carving a place for him in a confusing modern world while feeling oppressed at every step. He was his world; his Path was enough. He didn't feel compelled to maximize his effectiveness on everything he did because even if a lower speed or power output made him fall, he would die as himself.

Yinhu Shuzui sought to be true to himself and nothing else.

He lived his Path. He understood every detail of his techniques and modified them to reflect who he was. That might worsen the technique, yet it made it graceful and in tune with him.

"Acceptance, purpose, and honor are the keys to a fulfilling life," Shen's master had taught him. "A Path without any one of them leads only to ruin."

Shen had dwelled on that before, but now, a new layer of the meaning of "acceptance" opened to him.

Shen felt he had always been anything but himself.

Back in the Eternal Empire, he had been a cripple looking for a dream, a bookworm incapable of strenuous physical activities. Then, when he woke up, he sought to mold himself as a true cultivator of the Feng Clan. He saw himself as a spear and kept pushing himself one way or another to fit the shoes of what he should be.

In a way, he had internalized that he was a tool, and a tool had no feelings or wants; it fulfilled its wielder's purposes or had no reason to exist.

Shen's masters were his views of what a cultivator should be. Even when he understood he was no spear, back in the rift, even when he recognized he was walking a Path separated from his Feng Clan's, he still didn't stop himself from doing what was needed instead of what he wanted to do.

What he actually wanted to do, visit his clan's ancestral home, was always postponed because more pressing concerns demanded his attention. Back in the US, he needed to acclimate to the modern world; then, he had to escape the US; then, wait for Marzia; then, survive Valentina's spell; then, save Earth. Of course, he wanted to save the world, but even then, he had decided to go all-in only because of duty and honor. Honor had compelled him to die on this battlefield if needed.

If needed.

Not because he wanted to die for those people, but because his death might fulfill a purpose. Because despite knowing he wasn't a spear, he still considered himself nothing but a weapon—deep down, he saw himself as a tool to be discarded if it didn't fill its role to perfection.

Shen always pushed his every Concept to the limits, changed how he used them to adapt to different enemies and obstacles, and forgot to find out who he was.

He was his Path, yes. He was War, Combat, Sharpness, Flow, Zephyr, Arc Flash, and Boundlessness. But he had also already considered how his honor was the compass that decided where his Path would go.

He was his Path—and more.

What more was there to him, then?

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