Chương 30: Well of Emotions

The sun was known as divine radiance. Its power would cleanse the dirty, make the impure into pure, and dispel the darkness. But it wasn't merciful. A bleak figure dragged himself underneath it, a hood hiding his face. Only from time to time, a complex rune peeked out on his forehead, causing his face to twist in anguish. He pulled his hood as much as possible, then continued. The harsh sunlight never left him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Gritting his teeth, he only continued, leaving bloody marks behind.

… Sounds in his ears. Ruolan was whispering something to the collapsed Liuxue as she crouched beside her. Brushing strands of blood-matted hair of the hysterical girl aside. Baozhai said something, her lips moving, her hands gesturing. He couldn't hear it, nor did he understand what she meant. Then Ruolan lifted Liuxue. Her scowl was enough to show what she felt. She didn't look at him and just left. And Ren didn't move. He just… watched. Frozen. A faint hum clung to his ears. He was… the same.

Even in another body, he was still the same monster. His eyes shifted to his hands. They were bloody. Baozhai stepped close— too close— until her face hovered inches from his. She first lifted his chin; her face was just a few inches away from his. Her gaze… burned. Fierce. Unflinching. Carrying something. Anger? Disappointment? Or something worse? He couldn't tell. Couldn't distinguish. But he felt the repulsion. The hatred. Rising from the depths of his very being. It was numb, alright. Disappointed? For sure.

The dull ringing deepened, vibrating through his skull with each heartbeat. All too quiet, now he thought about it. Eerie that he could still hear the ringing. Also, a distant calling. Was it his name he heard? He—"Hey! Breathe!" Slap. Slap. Two firm strikes across his cheeks jolted his lungs into action. Air rushed in as he'd just breached the surface of a drowning sea. He gasped. Choked on the air. And the world snapped back into focus.

Ren ran a hand down his face, slow— like trying to wipe off whatever this was.

"I fucked up. Fucking hell, this is the second time I almost killed her."

"I know," Baozhai said, voice softer than expected.

"You almost splattered your precious disciple's brains like a watermelon. I thought you were trying to train them, not traumatize." She stopped for a second, then stared deep into his eyes.

"Your eyes… I saw it in your eyes. A hint of black. Has the corruption returned?" Ren dragged a breath through his teeth; it strangely hurt his lungs. Then sank onto the ground, his hair messy and smitten to his forehead with sweat. Yeah, there's also this corruption thing, too. He had felt it, his energy going berserk for a second. Instead of a scare, he had really tried to blast her. The reason? He didn't know. He was just sure there was something else pushing him. To release himself. Be deadly.

And it desired to draw blood. What kind of sick fuck would create such a demonic technique? He remembered Ancestor's warning. Corruption loves a frail vessel the most, huh? It seemed like he had taken care of it, but not him, obviously. Still, it was a good enough excuse to hide his other problem.

"When did it begin?" she asked.

"At the Council, I felt it," he muttered, admitting something he hadn't even dared to think. Yet the words come out easier than he thought. Ren stared at his bloodied hands.

"I knew their greed would drive them to act, but this soon? That, I didn't expect. And they even raised questions about my position— how I had no strength and how I would drag the sect's name through mud." His hands trembled.

"No testing the waters, no precautions about my retaliation… As if they already thought of me as a man at the end of his rope. The disciple part was just an excuse." They wanted to take my legacy. The one I had to protect, for his sake. The words engraved inside of him flared slightly, reminding themselves. Baozhai slowly crouched in front of him. She said nothing, only listened.

"I saw in their eyes. The disdain, the disrespect. I felt an urge to crush their fucking heads," he uttered, his voice completely devoid of emotion. He lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes meeting her golden eyes. Then came the guilt. He gulped, audibly. Then one more. Only then could he continue.

"I… I couldn't accept that urge, so I buried it deep. But as I recover my cultivation, it's getting worse and worse."

"Are you sure that is the first time?" she asked, staring deep into his eyes. Ren let out a turbid breath. Even though he didn't know why, he was sure she had caught his little lie.

"Fine, it started even before I got back to cultivating. Ancestor Lin even warned me about it." She snorted lightly, yet didn't linger on it.

"And which stage have you reached right now?"

"Tenth stage of Body Tempering." She blinked for a moment, then asked, "Have you got back to training… You know, that technique since you got back on your feet?"

"No…" he murmured, though he lowered his eyes a second later.

"Yes."

"Which one? No or yes?"

"To be exact, I didn't train on it. I just awakened Killing Intent once, but didn't even use it actively."

"When?"

"Does it matter?" he uttered, voice fraying at the edges. He shook his head just to avoid her eyes.

"I already made a mistake by stirring it."

"It matters." Baozhai put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward until he had no choice but to look at her eyes. She exhaled, her warm breath caressing his lips.

"It doesn't corrupt the mind, Ren. You said that. It only intensifies the dark urges you carry. So I need to know what caused you to resort to it and what you felt." Ren held her gaze, and something indescribable forced him to comply.

"Guan came to my peak, after the Council meeting," he answered, voice hollow.

"The Viper of Roses?" Baozhai stiffened.

"None other." Ren slowly nodded. He felt as if the shadows shifted erratically as soon as he mentioned his name.

"Said he was visiting."

"Tch, he would never just visit."

"He was here for Liuxue." Baozhai's brows creased, her gaze sharpening to a blade.

"Why?" He dragged a hand through his hair, not caring that he smeared blood.

"Her bastard father sold her to him. Years ago. He said he was watching her ever since, protecting silently until she grew up." Baozhai rose to her feet, sparks already dancing around her brows.

"Why didn't you break his damned neck?" Ren didn't flinch. His expression remained numb. Weary.

"Here's your answer."

"What?"

"I wanted to, as soon as I reached Killing Intent," he said, the words he never imagined to utter flowing out easily.

"I wanted to watch him crawl." Baozhai blinked.

"I wanted him to see the fear in her eyes. Then feel the same fear. To understand what it meant— truly meant— to be prey for once. He deserves to experience that desperation. But I didn't do shit." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She stared, hands clenched.

"I didn't," Ren said again, slower this time. Again, I took a step back, he added inwardly, but didn't dare say it aloud. A drop of crimson tainted his eyes.

"Because deep down, I know I can't do it. Not when I have so little power. I don't know how to erase his mark, and it might affect Liuxue if I did something. But I'll learn it. And… that's when I'm gonna break every finger he ever touched her with. Rip open his chest and crush his beating heart with this very hand. I will—""Ren!" Her shaky voice cut through the crimson haze that covered his sight. The world felt like it was swimming at the edges of his vision. Ren blinked, heart pounding.

His hands trembled— faintly. What… was that? He'd lost himself. This… was this still him or the technique's effect? I don't know. A scene flashed past his mind for a split second. Fucking hell, I really don't know… Baozhai's hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him toward her. Their noses touched just for a second. But he didn't even notice. No. All his focus was on her eyes. They… burned. Fierce. Unflinching. Carrying something. The same gaze he couldn't distinguish.

It was never anger or disappointment from the start.

"This feeling…" she whispered, her hand slowly caressing her cheek, "will kill you one day if you don't learn how to rein it in. You said this. And you already did once, so you can do it twice." She paused, then suddenly hugged him. Tight. Her face pressed on his chest, and a nearly inaudible whisper reached his ears.

"Don't ever become someone like him." He finally realized what it was in her gaze. Concern. I'm a fucking fool… Ren took a breath— a deep, shaky one. His arms hesitantly surrounded her waist, fists clenched. Whether these emotions are mine or not… whether they are my deepest, darkest thoughts or just a freaking curse of some bullshit technique…

"I won't be like that," Ren mustered the courage he didn't know where it was, a faint lilac scent tugging at his nose persistently. Though he couldn't say he didn't like it. No.

"I promise." Not again, he added inwardly. For the first time in his life, a promise didn't add another weight on his shoulders. Maybe the quiet weight of her embrace bled the tension from him. Or maybe something else. Either way, his fists relaxed. She nodded softly. Yet made no move to back off. And the scent… it was starting to get into his being. It was like— Shut the hell up. Ren slowly slipped out of her grasp.

"I need to go somewhere." Baozhai remained silent. She nodded again, her face already turned unreadable. The mask was on, regal and aloof. Yet smells lilac, so sweet and… dangerous. Why the hell am I wondering what her lips taste like? He shivered slightly.

"I really need to go." He left under her intense gaze, with hurried steps as if escaping something. And he was kinda. Only that thing followed him— persistent, quiet, obvious. How can she not know she's terrible at being sneaky when her aura is like a storm cloud in a clear sky? Ren thought as he turned a corner and paused. Or maybe she knew I'd notice either way, and doesn't care. He shrugged and kept going. Silence worked better. At least he didn't have to face questions for which he had no answers.

The library appeared in front of him not long after, still as magnificent as ever. Although Ren didn't feel like it, he still forced himself to admire it just for a moment.

"Have to give the respect it demands," he muttered before diving inside. Inside, the scent of old paper, ink, and faint incense wrapped around him. Peaceful. Quiet. Almost too quiet. Ren's steps didn't slow as he went directly to the upper floors. Of all the things from my previous world, music might be what I miss the most. He found himself left alone with his thoughts more often than he liked these days. Something he used every method to escape before. Music was one hell of a great way. Cooking another. Working…

that was the best solution. However, unlike most people, working out— training in this case— didn't work that well for him. Walking was the same. It was good for tiring himself out or relaxing. But it was all physical, and in the meantime, his mind would find itself left alone. And the thoughts would come. Ones he always swept away, piled into a very complicated mess. Once it was pretty harmless, though. He would become a little depressed, maybe smoke a few cigarettes or drink until the room spun too much to walk.

And somewhere in the mix, he'd get a little grumpy, too. Not that he wasn't normally, so people would only think he was in a bad mood. But here, the pile is dangerous. And gave him fewer ways to cope. Or maybe I didn't discover them. His soul brother had codes. A set of rules to deal with both corruption and his emotions. Nothing exaggerated, just a few principles his master instilled into him. After all, having the right to judge anyone might poison someone much faster than having mere power.

With them and the Heavenly Serenity Technique's calming effect, he hadn't had many problems. Ren had nothing. That's not true, and you know that. The words burned. Not fiercely, no, but they hadn't stopped either. He could only call it… warm. Cozy even. I still have you, brother. He paused in front of Section Eight's door.

"And her, too." He mustered out a quiet chuckle. Ren glanced down the spiral stairs, catching Baozhai's gaze, and offered a reassuring smile— one he hoped didn't look forced.

"Unfortunately, you can't pass this point," he said, his voice carrying down the stairs as he slipped inside, "but I'll gladly accept a cup of tea after this." The door shut between them. … The perks of being a geek were finding whatever you searched for easily. There was no need to flip through the endless pages, praying to find a hint at the earliest moment possible, yet getting disappointed every time.

Not that Ren disliked the feeling of finding pieces one by one until it became the big picture he wanted, it had its own charm, but… I'm in a little bit of a rush, you see, I don't wanna miss my tea date, Ren thought as he put a brick-like book on the same desk where he'd sat with Liuxue. And I owe the brats an explanation. I scared them a little too much. Wait, thinking now, a good apology meal wouldn't be bad, too.

As Master Lei was busy with his new ingredients, which he had gotten from Xue Tian, Ren had no choice but to make do with Madam Zhang's cooking for the past month. Of course, he couldn't complain about that, too, as she was a fantastic cook, but Master Lei was the heavenly chef. And the kids should definitely try his cooking sometime.

"Alright, back to the matter at hand," Ren muttered under his breath and took the book. The legacy of the Benevolent Asura, one of the three Founders— his life's sole devotion and the mightiest technique in the sect's collection. Yet the legendary Tyrant's Art of Slaughter was nothing more than a plain, unadorned book bound in gray. He let his fingers rest on the cover. His soul brother knew every sentence of this book, but that was him, not Ren. And he was getting sick of this… feeling.

Knowing but not understanding. Maybe that was where the problem lay. Maybe the way to fix these wrong urges he was having. Ren slowly flipped through the first page. [For no heart beneath heaven is born without shadow, nor hath the world known an age uncoiled by corruption. Thus was this art bequeathed unto mine inheritors: that thou mayst not flee thy darkness, nor kneel before it, but seize it, temper it, and kindle from its ashes a radiance that maketh the Golden Crow lower its haughty head.]"Huh, feels heavier than I remembered." Right underneath the first paragraph, a sharp calligraphy written in… blood stood. [As the creator himself counseled: thou shalt wield this art not for destruction nor slaughter, but to seek the sole glimmer of hope 'neath the darkened firmament of despair.] Ren noticed a faint, metallic smell. Trying to ignore the ominous feeling in him, he started reading. Soon, the pages began to turn faster and faster as the memories overlapped with the content.

It was like something he had picked up in his childhood, then gave up without reason and forgotten all about it until now. The pieces slowly fit into their rightful places, doubts answering themselves, and the image getting clearer. Tyrant's Art of Slaughter was surprisingly simple. Though being simple didn't mean it was easy, it wasn't complicated either, unlike the other techniques at the heaven level.

Heck, it only had three available forms instead of nine or ten: Killing Intent for suppression and buffing himself, Tyrant Punch for direct confrontation, and Tyrant's Tyranny as a last resort. It also had no levels, no stages, nor any peaks. It only needed one and only one thing—"Negative emotions as fuel. A bottomless well for them until it erupts like a volcano. Fucking great," Ren clicked his tongue and leaned back. He hadn't inherited the well, because it was a mind technique more than a body.

He might've found a solution to these dark urges, as he could feed them to the well. However, their true origin was still a problem. And these words… they felt ominous. As though they were hinting at something terrible, that even the thought of it caused him to shiver. What exactly was this corruption… Don't distract yourself. The technique did not affect or amplify negative emotions as long as he didn't actively try to comprehend and use them as fuel.

And Killing Intent definitely shouldn't trigger such a response. So the fault should be lying somewhere else, but where? What was stirring some-not-be-advised-to-touch place in him? Ren ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. Answers were short on supply lately, like they always would be when he needed them. Or did they? A terrifying notion tried to emerge in his mind, but he suppressed it in no time.

"Whatever. Beggars can't be choosers," he muttered, shoving the thought into the back of his mind where all the other unresolved crap lived. At least he had a temporary solution. Although having all these temporary solutions, like his Daily Watering, rubbing him the wrong way, life was such an exciting bastard. You learn to live the way it wants you to. Now, let's see how hungry this well is. He crossed his legs on the seat. Even though he'd made up his mind, Ren still didn't trust himself enough to try it at home.

If anything went wrong here, the formations— or old man Gao— would stop him before it got ugly. He wasn't about to shame himself once more in front of his disciples. Or Baozhai. And I really don't want to face Baozhai, at least without settling this fucked-up urges. He sniffed out of instinct, feeling as if the lilacs were still lingering. Damn it, definitely no seeing her. Ren closed his eyes and slowly felt the described well, hidden way deeper than the crimson Killing Intent.

It had no tangible form, but he would say a black, bottomless abyss was watching him if he needed to describe the feeling it gave. Now, he needed to choose an emotion and sacrifice it into the well. And for that, he had to let that emotion cover his very being, preferably a weaker one for the start. He hesitated for a moment, his hands clenching and unclenching hidden in his sleeves. He went for the anger. The cold yet searing one he felt at himself for being powerless in front of the whole Council.

In front of the people he was supposed to protect, in front of the people believing him. A stupid choice, but the most urgent one wouldn't care about stupidity. It rose slowly, like frost spreading under his skin— cold enough to sting, yet burning hot enough to strip him of his pride. And without it, Ren felt strangely exposed. Naked even. Something settled in his chest. Something heavy, metallic, like tasting blood.

His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as the memories threatened to overwhelm his mind, dragging every breath down with it. The times he'd had to grit his teeth and endure the insults of some bastard he considered nothing more than trash, yet still had to call him boss with fake respect; the thug bastards cracking jokes about his sisters while he stood there, fighting the urge to plant a solid punch into their bloody mouths. When they broke their promise in that alley— Stop. The well stirred.

It didn't pull so much as it opened, an absence that swallowed until the anger thinned a little bit, like smoke curling into a void. However, it seemed like fate had made up its mind to mess with him as he suddenly felt a presence approaching. Fast. He frowned and pulled the anger back deep inside. It left a hollow ache, like a scream swallowed mid-breath. The well shook slightly as if in protest, but stirred no more as Ren opened his eyes.

"Young Ren, you need to come and see this."