Chapter 7: Chapter 7

In the near eight-hundred years of his life, Guo Heng had only ever had one disciple, and that was Wan Yuanjun.

When he had first announced that was taking him in thirty years ago, the entire cultivation world was shocked.

This was because his status as the illustrious Sect Master and the world-defying Sword Saint wasn't worthy of someone like Wan Yuanjun.

When Wan Yuanjun was still a child — before he had been selected as a disciple — he wasn't the most skilled genius the world had ever seen, nor was he extremely beautiful or charismatic. The child may have been far above the average, but he wasn't exactly first place in all the rankings at the time. He was, to be short, good, but not the best.

Taking in the fact that Guo Heng was famed for being the most inflexible perfectionist, Wan Yuanjun didn't fit to his tastes at all.

But the reason he'd taken the child in was simple.

He reminded Guo Heng of himself.

They had first met in the pouring rain of the ruins.

A grey, stormy darkness had blocked out the evening sun, the rushing winds harsh and cold. Rain poured down restlessly, irregular and heavy, each hail-like drop striking hard and ruthlessly. The rain carried a chill that permeated one's bones, the water seeping through clothes in seconds and drenching those with umbrellas or without.

That was, except Guo Heng.

This region of stifling, terrible rains had come right after the destruction of a small village. Stone and charred wooden splinters was strewn among the large, destroyed clumps of rubble, homely articles such as furniture or personal articles ruined and unrecognisable in the mess. Muddy ashes had congealed into sodden wads that clung to people's feet, a smoky haze hovering in the air that had yet to be beaten down. The air was thick with cold water vapour and smoke, but was so chillingly frigid it instead felt like the air was too thin. 

Other than the sounds of rain slamming into the earth, it was utterly silent.

Guo Heng had come to this utterly destroyed, ruined village in this terrible weather because it had been attacked by the Demonic Sect. It was currently unknown why, and to be honest, his "Sect Elders" were so pathetic in their petty internal disputes over power that he'd simply gone to see it himself despite their various pleas for his return.

Looking around, he used his white-booted foot to nudge a large chunk of stone rubble over, revealing the imprint of a human body. The mud that surrounded it had begun to dry, the ashes mixed in turning it an ugly greyish-white. There were a few specks of rusted blood splattered nearby, though from the small amount, it was clear that the owner of the blood drops didn't stand much of a chance against his attacker.

It was this scene that made Guo Heng rather confused, as he had countless times before.

Recently, the Demonic Sect had begun attacking seemingly random settlements, destroying the villages before fleeing, just as suddenly. And, even more mysteriously, they hadn't taken the money or valuables, instead taking live prisoners. It must be said that the Demonic Sect never had a lack of living persons to experiment on or refine — after all, in their vast territories, every village under their "protection" had to capture a certain number of individuals a year for the sect. As such, capturing and destroying random villages under the jurisdiction of prominent Righteous Sects was, to be blunt, an idiotic and senseless thing to do, and the Demonic Sect had many times over proven that they were not mentally challenged nor retarded, unfortunately.

Wandering over the ruins like some ghost, he suddenly heard a low, dull thump not too far off.

Thoughts and assumptions swimming in his head, he quickly ran in the direction of the sound, his right hand tightening over his sword — his left held a red umbrella — and found...

A child.

The child was dressed in rags and covered in filth from head to toe, so Guo Heng had needed a third glance to note that he was biologically male in gender. Black, matted hair, large coal-black eyes, wearing torn rags, scrawny body, severe malnutrition, had a pale complexion. He was probably a beggar orphan who'd been forced off the main streets by others to beg in the narrow alleyways were it was hidden from the sun. Judging from his body's proportions — Guo Heng added on a few years to match his nutritional development — he was around the age of ten. The boy was squatting in the ashes and gravel, turning over and sifting through the rubble, as though searching for something.

Was this child... a survivor?

Guo Heng didn't feel any sympathy, nor did he feel any pity. As someone who'd lived nearly eight centuries, he had long become indifferent to the lives of others. His sense of time had become so distorted that he no longer recognised the difference between the lifespan of a cricket and a person. The world was like a huge garden to him; some plants were common, and not of much notice; others were like weeds, and were rather annoying to the eyes, but not much could be done; some were flowering plum trees, pretty and beautiful but not much else; others were rocks and stones that were strong but plain and boring. Though trees and pebbles were different, in the end, they were still inanimate things. They might annoy or please him from time to time, but that was it.

And this grubby little rock in front of him had piqued his interest, because he'd found it on the floor instead of the gravel pit.

Voice indifferent and cold, he asked the child, 'What are you doing here?'

The boy ignored him, and continued pushing the remnants of a roof to side, peering into the cavity it left behind.

Not impatient or annoyed, Guo Heng continued, 'If you tell me, I may help you.'

The boy finally looked up at him.

In his eyes, a horde of shadows and emotions far too mature and harsh lurked in his too-young pupils. It was the kind of look that someone would have when they stood on the edge of an abyss, and were merely half a step from falling in. It was the kind of look that made one think of a maddened, dying animal that had once stubbornly clung to life, but was about to let go from exhaustion.

This kind of look gave Guo Heng a start.

To the boy, though, Guo Heng was like an immortal. He was pure, pristine, and aloof, cold and jade-like. He looked like an immortal descending from the heavens to survey the mortal realm below. However, the one thing that the boy thought was that he definitely wasn't someone to help for nothing; he did not look to be of the benevolent sort.

He said anyway, 'I've lost my little brotherPlease note that it doesn't have to be used only for blood-related siblings. It could literally be any close, younger male of your generation. In some contexts, though, it could mean/imply different things.. I'm looking for him.'

Guo Heng blinked in both surprise and interest. A bit more warmth bleeding into his voice, he asked, 'Really? Are you blood-related? What is he like?'

The boy, a little too precocious for his age, replied fluently, 'No. He is... I know him, he is like me. He begs with me, and he's my little brother. I take care of him. He's very obedient and sensible, but he... doesn't like living. He only lives for me, I think. So I need to find him quickly, so he won't let himself die.' He mumbled, 'He's too lazy to live.'

Guo Heng trembled.

He felt like he could see his own younger brother, one that he'd once lost. A young man who didn't care for life and death, someone too lazy to do the most basic of things yet could light up the world like no other. It was the greatest misery and regret of his life that his Shidi wasn't bothered enough to keep it lit... 

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He wasn't even bothered to keep talking, thinking, or moving. Because one day, for no reason at all, he'd stopped living, and disappeared.

He'd searched for a long, long time.

He asked, 'How long have you been searching?'

The boy replied, 'I don't know. A day? A week? A year? A century? It feels like ten thousand years to me.' Rocking back on his heels, he said, 'I'm searching. My little brother is my joy, and I'm his too. We need each other. Immortal Master, will you help me search?'

Guo Heng shook his head.

'Why?'

He smiled bitterly and replied, 'Because I'm just like you.'

'...?'

Stepping forward, Guo Heng walked to the side of the boy. Tilting his umbrella over to the side, he shielded the boy from the rain, the cold and winds, though he couldn't shield the boy from the darkness and grief of his heart. He said, 'I've searched for my own ShidiYounger apprentice brother. Doesn't have to be blood-related, can apply to any younger male of your generation... though this "generation" could apply to either status or age., my own little brother.'

As the boy stared silently at him, Guo Heng continued, 'I've never found him, and suffered. Those kinds of people, the ones that can't be bothered to live, you should forget about.'

The boy shook his head. 'Yes, he's not bothered to live, but I think he wants to. He just needs a purpose, so I'm going to be that purpose until he has a purpose. Immortal Master's Shidi might be different, but my little brother... I won't give up on him. I'll keep searching.'

Guo Heng had once had this kind of drive, this kind of passion. The kind where he'd once swore to find his brother, help him find a reason to live, help him light up his life and the world.

He had that passion for many, many years, and held onto it for many more.

But it didn't last. 

A year passed, then another. The years turned into decades, the decades into centuries, all one big, long line of time that he couldn't unravel.

This child...

Perhaps this warm, sad and buzzing, full of emotions and yet none at all feeling was that thing called empathy.

It was a long time since he'd seen a person, and not plant, or rock, or bug.

This grubby little rock turned out to be a little boy hiding beneath it.

He's curious, and also not. He's interested in seeing if this boy would really stick to his notions, and search for his little brother, or if he would give up like himself. Would he get the happy ending that Guo Heng never found?

Could he, perhaps, show him a way out of his present-turned-past? Or would he only prove that Guo Heng's decision, like so many others, were correct?

He said to the boy, 'Do you want to become my disciple?'

The boy asked instead, 'Why should I?' He looked at the rubble. 'He might still be here.'

'He isn't here anymore. I've checked; other than you and me, no-one else is in this village.' Guo Heng smiled, changing the topic to answer the boy's first question. 'You can search for twenty years. You can search for fifty more. But then, you'll age, and you'll die. You can never find your little brother again if that happens. But if you're my disciple, then you could live for a hundred more. You could, perhaps, live to one thousand, and search for a thousand years.'

The boy nodded.

'But, even if you don't want to search anymore, I'll still take care of you as your Shizun.'

The boy frowned. 'No, I'll keep searching.'

Ignoring the boy's stubborn words, Guo Heng asked, 'Do you have a name?'

'No.'

'Then, I shall give you one.' Thinking back to the boy's past words, he said, 'Then, I shall name you Wan Yuanjun, Ten Thousand Joys. I hope that the joy you wish to find you find is worth your ten thousand years of searching.'

The boy, Wan Yuanjun, didn't move, nor acknowledge his new name.

It was only after staring at the block of stone did he finally utter a monosyllable, 'Oh.'

The two left in silence.

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