6.4 - Old Tiger's Guidance

He Yu made his way through the austere halls of the Tan royal palace. Weapons—each one a minor treasure—lined the walls, and constructs stood in alcoves ready to come to life in defense of the palace. He Yu didn’t think anyone for ten thousand li would be foolish enough to attack Jade Mountain Citadel. Not with an expert of the Divine Soul Apotheosis stage in residence.

Arriving at the gilt double doors of Tan Zihao’s study, He Yu cupped a fist in salute to the Seventh Realm golden tiger lounging just outside. The spirit beast cracked open an eye, but otherwise ignored him. Fair enough, he supposed. Even at the Soul Refining stage, he was beneath the guardian’s notice. He didn’t have the same relationship with the beast as Tan Zihao did, either. The Jade King had apparently raised the golden tiger himself, bonding it centuries ago as a contracted partner. An uncommon practice in these days, to be sure, but He Yu couldn’t fault him. He’d struggled against golden tigers enough times to know they were formidable opponents.

Several moments after his knock, the gilded doors swung open, admitting him into Tan Zihao’s presence. Even sitting behind his desk, Tan Zihao struck an imposing figure. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, he was powerfully built in a way He Yu had long since given up on. His forearm was nearly as thick around as He Yu’s leg. Wild, barely tamed hair cascaded down over his shoulders and back. His eyes, featureless and the color of molten gold, flicked up to the door. The only real acknowledgment of He Yu’s arrival.

Despite his apparent brusqueness, He Yu had come to grow fond of Tan Zihao over the past few years as his guest. He had the same wry sense of humor as his daughter and was far friendlier than his appearance suggested. It was easy to see why he was so liked by the people of the Jade Kingdom. Further, he was truly grateful for the aid He Yu had provided Tan Xiaoling. Although they’d only touched on the subject once or twice, he’d been concerned about the struggle between Tan Xiaoling and her uncle. He Yu didn’t pry into the particulars too much, instead taking Tan Xiaoling’s explanation on its face. For whatever reason, He Yu’s assistance in the fight was fully within the bounds of how these things were settled. Politics was a dimension of rule after all, and finding capable allies was a strength all its own.

“I take it you’ve met with success,” Tan Zihao said, setting aside his brush as he finished whatever missive he’d been writing.

“The town lies mostly in ruin, but they’ve a middle stage Golden Core. I gave him an elixir that should bring him to the peak. The soldiers will help protect the town while they rebuild.”

“You’ve done us a great service. The people of the Jade Kingdom may ask you to rule should you keep it up,” Tan Zihao said with a laugh.

He Yu allowed himself a smile at that as he took a seat across from the king, thankful they were alone and could speak more freely with one another. “I don’t know what I would do with an entire kingdom. I’m still not wholly comfortable with the prospect of ordering around the soldiers you place under me.”

“That’s why you’re so good at it,” Tan Zihao said. It was a conversation they’d had before, and one that He Yu couldn’t deny had a point. Those who sought command of their own too often fell to corruption and vice. He Yu’s reluctance spoke of his commitment to justice, or at least that’s how Tan Zihao saw it. “But that’s not why you’ve come,” the king said after letting the matter of He Yu’s character fall to the wayside.

“I still can’t fully form a connection with my Dao, despite all the things I’ve done. Every village I save, every story about me that spreads—it’s all a part of my Way. Yet it doesn’t seem to bring me closer.”

“You’re very young, still.”

As far as He Yu knew, Tan Zihao was well over eight hundred years old. Although immortals of the Jade Kingdom tended to advance further and faster than those of the empire, he’d still followed a typical arc of advancement advancement. Reaching Golden Core at about fifty years of age—roughly the same age He Yu was now—and formed his Nascent Soul by the time he’d completed his second sixty-year cycle. Then he’d spent hundreds of years after cultivating, steadily deepening his understanding of his Dao. He Yu never bothered to ask why there was such a gap between him and Tan Qingsheng, such that he could credibly challenge Tan Xiaoling for the throne. It seemed impolite to pry that far into family matters.

“I am, but I don’t have a thousand years to spare. I don’t even have hundreds of years. Jin Xifeng holds the empire. The longer she rules, the stronger that hold becomes.”

“I understand,” Tan Zihao said. “Your drive is the reason you’ve come this far. But what do you want me to do? The advice I gave you has worked so far, has it not? You’ve pushed through the Sixth Realm in astonishing time. It’s only natural that you reach a bottleneck. I’m sure your mentors back at the Shrouded Peaks warned you that advancement only grew more difficult the further along the path of cultivation you walk.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about, in a way,” he said.

Tan Zihao leaned back in his chair and regarded He Yu with his golden eyes. “Is there something wrong with the approach you’ve taken, do you think?” The question might have come across as an accusation, had He Yu not grown so familiar with Tan Zihao.

For all his appearances as a warrior—appearances which were wholly true to his Way—Tan Zihao was just as much a scholar. The shelf behind him, stuffed with bamboo scrolls and jade slips both, contained nearly as much knowledge as the Shrouded Peaks Sect’s outer pavilion had. Countless times over the course of their stay, Tan Zihao had granted profound wisdom not only to He Yu, but to all his companions. The rapid advancement they’d managed since staying at the palace had been as much because of Tan Zihao’s expertise as it had the resources he’d provided.

“My mentor at the sect, Zhang Lifen, had once told me arts like mine were different. Coming from a time before modern cultivation methods, ancient arts ask high prices of their practitioners. So far as I can tell, I’m the only one of my friends who had to undergo a tribulation from the heavens to form my Golden Core.”

Tan Zihao said nothing for a moment, stroking his chin as he thought. “Anyone can subject themselves to a tribulation and advance,” he said at length. “But I see your point. You think perhaps the reason you’re having these difficulties now is that your principal art demands something more of you?”

“I can’t say for certain. Were I still at the sect, I could have sought guidance from Elder Cai. Or at the very least, Zhang Lifen. She seemed to know more about my art than anyone other that her own Master, even though she didn’t practice it.”

“There is a story, I recall,” Tan Zihao said, speaking slowly as he dredged up the legend from the depths of his long memory. “Once, maybe five hundred years ago at least, a cultivator who practiced arts similar to yours ventured through the Jade Kingdom. He came from the south, although I don’t know if that has any real bearing here. He cultivated arts that also brought storms upon the land. Heaven, wind, and rain. Not your art, before you get too excited.”

It seemed He Yu hadn’t kept his features as schooled as he’d hoped. “Still, that’s got to be something, right?”

Tan Zihao shrugged. “Perhaps. More relevant here, I think, is what he did and where he went, rather than the exact nature of his arts.”

He Yu leaned forward, intent on Tan Zihao’s words.

“He spent some time in the Jade Kingdom. Then he ventured north. Across the White Desert, then further beyond even the great steppe. I forget for how long exactly his journey lasted, but eventually he returned. He returned with treasures he’d not left with. Insights he’d gained from somewhere. And most importantly, an advancement far beyond what most would have expected from him.

“My father was still king then, and he asked this expert what he found. The expert answered that he’d found lands full of beasts and spirits. That he’d faced trials demanding far more of him than he’d found before. That the ancient guardians of the world itself had looked upon him and found him worthy.”

He Yu couldn’t dare to hope. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“A man such as him would have reasons to lie. Many experts keep the secrets of their advancement close, after all.”

That was true enough. Why spread knowledge that would allow a rival to one day challenge you? To steal all you’d gained by your own effort and talent? Sects guarded their secrets, and the great clans kept their family arts private. But at the same time…

“If his stories were true, it wouldn’t really matter who knew, would it?” He Yu mused.

“My thinking as well,” Tan Zihao said. “If he were speaking the truth, his advancement and treasures came from the approval of ancient powers, not easily swayed and never fooled or stolen from. These guardians of insight and wisdom would have to judge one worthy to bestow their favor. It seems obvious this expert thought that a feat few would likely achieve.”

“And he didn’t say were he found these beings,” He Yu added. “As I’ve come to understand, the world is large. Simply telling one to go north is little help.”

“It does seem futile, doesn’t it?”

It was hard to disagree. For all he knew, this could be a wild fabrication. This nameless expert could have been on the cusp of breaking through already. He could have crossed the desert, found a suitable spot for an immortal’s cave, and simply completed the advancement he was already close to. He could have already possessed those treasures he “returned” with, simply keeping them hidden within his storage ring. Such deception would, upon consideration, easily hide the methods of one’s advancement.

But what if it were true?

What if this legend held the key to He Yu’s next breakthrough? It would be fitting. He Yu had always dreamed of chasing legends, of becoming one. What better way than to head off into the unknown in search of fabled guardians of the primeval world? A small voice spoke up in his mind, telling him he was being foolish. That he was sending himself on an errand doomed to failure.

He’d never gotten anywhere by doing the sensible thing. His greatest leaps forward had always been from charging blindly into uncertain territory, doing the things his gut told him to, rather than his better judgment. If he’d done the sane thing, he’d never have climbed that mountain and subjected himself to the tribulation. He’d never have formed his Golden Core. He’d never have gone into the wilderness in search of Tan Xiaoling with nothing more than a rumor to go on. He’d never have helped her defeat her uncle. Never have gained the favor and insight of her father. Once more, He Yu stood before a choice that was no choice at all.

Tan Zihao laughed. “Go. Make your preparations. The Jade Kingdom has survived for a thousand years before you came. It will be fine while you’re gone.”

He knew well enough Tan Zihao was teasing him, but he saluted just the same. It was meant more as encouragement, anyway. “Your insight has been more than I could ever repay, King Tan. This one thanks you for your generosity and wisdom.”

Tan Zihao waved him off. “Just make sure that if my daughter comes with you, she returns alive.”

“I’ll do my best,” He Yu said. He saluted once more and took his leave.

Although he couldn’t say what awaited him in the north, it was bound to be some kind of adventure. The more he thought on what Tan Zihao had shared with him, the more certain he grew. Primordial guardians bestowing advancement and techniques on a nameless cultivator five hundred years ago? That was a legend if he’d ever heard one. Part of being a hero was forging a legend. And he carried with him a primordial art—even his mentor had marked it as such. The Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace had been old when Elder Cai inherited it. What better place to seek insight than the forgotten mists of time?

He Yu did his best to tamp down his excitement as he went to go tell the others of his plan.