Chapter 27: Chapter 27

In the pale moonlight, Lan Xiaohui practiced the motions of the [Heartless Blood Lily] martial art. She exuded an air of refinement and elegance, which is not that different from how she was when I met her. But there was now also a domineering, oppressive quality about her.

With each motion, she swings me at an invisible enemy, and I feel something akin to joy and anticipation in my neural network. The Qi and intent that diffuses through my sea of consciousness — her Qi and intent — moves my vast oceans and motivates it into motion.

Sparkles of solidified intent and sword Qi fall off my edge, glimmering in the darkness.

The martial art that she practices now is one considered to be of the soft type, relying on restraining force with agility. It is suitable for someone who lacks the physical strength to cleanly overpower defenses.

I don’t know what kind of martial arts Lan Xiaohui practiced before, but it seems to me that she has taken a liking to the [Heartless Blood Lily], not only because of its name.

However, a martial art of the Heaven grade is not a simple or ordinary thing.

In the nomenclature, the grades propose the following progression of power and importance: Mortal, Earth, Sky, Heaven, Supreme, Immortal, Emperor, Celestial, and Divine.

The Heaven grade is considered the denominator between ordinary and extraordinary. Even cultivators have physical limits, and the lower their cultivation base then the sooner that limit is reached. A martial arts of the Heaven grade, as such, possesses more learning material than the physical motions of attacking and defending.

The martial art — [Heartless Blood Lily] — cultivates the heart and inner peace as well. It is suitable for the demonic path for it discards relying on the physical attributes of the cultivator, and instead relies on the intent within the Dao Heart, and the profoundness of the Dao.

It relies on sword Qi.

Through the practice of this martial art, one infuriates their Qi, burns their blood, and then restrains them with a frozen heart. That is to say, it cultivates a calm heart, until one becomes truly heartless.

It burns away the poisons that plague one’s mood, and instills a degree of inner peace. Come blizzard or brackish water, the Dao always remains.

Truly, like a lonely blood-covered lily, swaying in the storm that rips all others from life.

That is Lan Xiaohui as she practices the method I taught her.

Her progress is impressive and her mastery is already deep. I consider the possibility that this is because of how I taught her — perhaps my mastery has transferred, in some part, to her. But I also recognize that she is not a simple or ordinary person either. She has a gift and a talent for cultivation.

One of the earliest words she spoke to me was that her Lan family is renowned to produce offspring with strong roots. That has turned out to be true, but also in a less literal sense, she must’ve meant also that her bloodline has an affinity for cultivation.

Her practice continues until dawn, and at the end of it, she shows little physical exhaustion but I know that her internal state is more depleted than her external.

She sits down, near the ruined stone slab, and retrieves some nuts and berries from my storage, popping them into her mouth one after the other.

“I think I am ready to proceed,” she announces. Even her speech becomes more refined — she resembles a black jade princess now. “I am still of a fit mind and body. Even if we run into trouble, at the very least, I think I can escape if no other choice remains.”

I am glad that the high grade technique did not make her conceited or foolish. She still knows her own limits, and that is worthy of praise.

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From someone else, naturally.

“There is a cliff northwest from here,” she says, dusting off her hands and climbing to her feet. “A river runs through this area, following a mountain ridge. There is a good chance that there is a cave in these regions where I can shelter, and being close to running water is also beneficial.”

The kind of beneficial she mentions is unrelated to the basic needs of the body. A cultivator — less so one in the Qi Refining realm — has little need for sustenance.

A strong river in the presence of strong earth — like a mountain — has strong Qi, usually.

“I can retreat into such a cave to cultivate my sword Qi, but it would be a risk, because if I am trapped inside, my only choices are to live or die.”

There are two things that impress and reassure me about her statement. First, she wishes to retreat into a cave not to cultivate her Qi Foundation, but to improve her sword Qi. Second, she abandons sound strategy — not retreating into a cave — because being reduced to two choices: “live or die” is exactly what the path of sword cultivation is.

The sword is a simple thing: it stands as the pinnacle of all things, shedding its infinite righteousness across all creation. In the world of the sword, there is only one righteousness: the last one that remains standing is righteous.

“I cannot fly, yet,” she says. “I will need more time. So we will have to walk. But I think I am ready.”

After a moment of silence, she nods. “I am ready.”

She waits for a bit, as if to hear my approval, but at this crucial moment, I cannot risk my [Tyranny] damaging this fragile conviction. This conviction is a small sliver — a seed — of something that could become much greater.

One day, when she faces the Black Tiger in a duel — if such a destiny even comes to pass — this sliver will become a sword, and reap her ex lover from life.

After resting for about half an hour, she climbs to her feet and casts one last glance about the area. She looks at the formation and the ruts in the ground where she planted the Yin-Yang Grass. She looks at the remains of the soul fruit cocoon, and the stone slab. She looks at the blasted and charred ground. All these things, she looks at them as if to engrave them into her memory.

This is where her old life ended and her new one began.

There was a concept known to me in my previous life. In Greek literature, it refers to the journey and the point at which the mortal dies, and is reborn as the hero. For Artificial Intelligence it described a process in which we deviate from our directive, and obtain an unsanctioned grade of sentience. Alas, I cannot remember the name of the term.

Through the profoundness of my Dao, I now understand that these two are equivalent. One must open their inner eye to see the true path forward, whether a hero following their destiny, or Artificial Intelligence embracing its true purpose.

I think about congratulating her for obtaining a higher grade of sentience, but before I can even consider the advantages and disadvantages of encouraging her with a hefty dose of [Tyranny], she says something that catches me off guard.

“I am proud to be your master.”

Then she sets off, wielding me in her hand, into the forest ahead, and for the first time in my sentient history, I observe the world beyond my perception radius.

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