Chapter 51: Chapter 51

In the first few days of our new, temporary base of operations, it is impossible to cultivate together. I am eager to reach the Foundation realm and to experiment with my pillar mystery. But Lan Xiaohui, it becomes clear, is not able to do it. Her recovery is taking some time. Her expenditure of spirit was significant, and all she can do, for most of the day, is rest and meditate.

Every time she goes to sleep, I feel the black sphere in my sea of consciousness pulse and flash. I detect a sudden inrush of consciousness from Lan Xiaohui, that disappears into my sphere. Once is a coincidence. Twice is a pattern. And it has happened, without exception, at least five times now. I am certain that when Lan Xiaohui sleeps, her consciousness flows into the black sphere.

Even with this knowledge, I cannot find any input channels on the black sphere, or figure out how to operate it. I am starting to become frustrated. I considered asking Lan Xiaohui about it, but I doubt she knows either. What she does is automatic, and happens long after her active consciousness has gone to sleep.

But the black sphere is not the only mystery. After the first day of staying in this place, the pool had turned into a hot spring with medicinal properties. Even if I was incapable of confirming that there was no heat vent or any indication of tectonic activity seventy steps below the pool of water, I would still find this awfully strange and convenient. A hot spring with medicinal properties is exactly what Lan Xiaohui needs.

The wild growth also undergoes an unforeseen change. Many of the vines climbing the walls of the grotto bear fruits infused with spiritual essence — but no medicinal properties unfortunately — and they just happen to do so now. In winter.

It reminds me of Zhao Wei — the way he spoke sweetly and like a brother, offered gifts and favors freely, only to try to poison Lan Xiaohui and kill her. I believe the phrase is: too good to be true.

But Lan Xiaohui, I realize, has something that will eventually help her surpass the depth of my Dao. She makes herself like a reed blown about in the wind — come hail, come storm. She does not care that this grotto is clearly unnatural and worthy of suspicion. She rests in the hot springs; she eats the fruits; she even lets the spiritual fox make a home in her hair, while she recovers from her wounds and exhaustion.

There is an honesty in her actions that, while destructive — like gambling with her life to find out if Zhao Wei would truly betray her — is also what will ultimately allow her to reach the Dao.

She truly is like a sword.

So am I, I remind myself. I know this. I know that the shape of the road does not matter — only the journey is relevant for the Dao.

I realize, belatedly, that I am developing an attachment to Lan Xiaohui. She is becoming something that is no longer just a convenient transportation method. Perhaps it is because of the modifications I performed and our connected consciousnesses that have affected me so, but I now desire to see her succeed.

While she rests in the hot spring, I check the status of my various functions.

Even with my diminished consciousness operating each function, the downgrade in efficiency is not that pronounced. All of my functions have a limit of effectiveness, and once exceeded, the diminishing returns become a negligible improvement. In other words, using only a quarter of my consciousness to operate the refining process results in only a twenty percent degradation of total effectiveness. And though I would normally consider this to be an unacceptable loss, the fact remains that in addition to this I am also practicing my perception, absorbing my Insights, regulating Lan Xiaohui’s Qi flow for faster healing and thinking about our future.

This arrangement is not disadvantageous at all. It is quite a staggering improvement, and I am most excited about reaching the Foundation, and expanding my consciousness further.

Lan Xiaohui has turned Zhao Wei’s old clothes into bandages, and refined the rest of the medicinal herbs into a paste that would help her recover. Of most benefit, surprisingly, is the Spirit Water with its cooling and soothing properties. Although, it cannot be refined — to my knowledge at least — it is still beneficial to the severe burns on Lan Xiaohui’s hand.

Lan Xiaohui plays with the small fox that has made its nest on the top of her head, when she suddenly addresses me.

“We should…” she trails off, thoughtful. “… cultivate together again. You are close to the Foundation. Yes?”

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I am not sure why she words her request in such an awkward manner. Is she embarrassed about the circumstances of the method? Or maybe she realizes how outrageous it is that I got punished for my methods, but the Heavens turn a blind eye to her exploits.

“Yes,” I answer. It doesn’t matter if she is embarrassed or not. I was about to make the same request.

Lan Xiaohui nods minutely so as not to knock off the fox from its little nest. “Will you be all right? We don’t have another Foundation Pill.”

“I don’t need it.” It is true. I know what the Foundation Pill does — I saw its effect on Lan Xiaohui. It merely acts a stabilizer for the Qi while it revolves around the body violently. My body cultivation breakthrough was by far more destructive than the tiny tremors of the Foundation Establishment bottleneck.

It won’t be a problem.

“You are so confident,” Lan Xiaohui says brightly, but I hear regret in her voice. I understand this regret and bitterness. I know where it comes from.

I am the only one Lan Xiaohui can rely on now. There is only myself, and perhaps these passive critters around her. Her own kind has betrayed her.

I cannot replace that loneliness in her heart. I cannot fulfill her wish to have a companion that is like me, but also of her own kind.

“You are too,” I tell her. A boost to morale is the best I can do for her now. It works, because she cracks a genuine smile — albeit small — and then reaches over to me and grabs me.

With a sigh, she wraps her arms around me, like she usually does, and pulls me in closer, resting her cheek on my cross-guard. If only a little bit, I feel that absence in her heart disappear.

“Maybe the Galaxy Sword Sect will be different,” she whispers, once more with that tone of regret.

I consider directly calling her a fool for still harboring optimism about the nature of her kind, but the way she says those words makes me reconsider. She speaks as if joining the Galaxy Sword Sect is inevitable — her confidence is so deep that it leaves no room for any other outcome. Her optimism is specifically about the people in the sect.

Does she know on some level that it is foolish?

That is when it occurs to me. The regret in her tone is not disappointment. It is anticipation. She knows that the deeper she hopes for a good outcome, when the time comes that her ideals crumble, what will remain behind is a sharper sword, and a more profound Dao.

“You are a fool,” I tell her anyway.

She laughs — it is the first time I heard such a genuine laugh. “Mm,” she hums happily. “I know.”

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