Chương 2: Chapter 1: OVERWHELM

He sat perched on the branch of an unusually tall fatebloom tree, legs swinging lazily under him, about a hundred feet off the ground. From his vantage point, the crown of all the other fatebloom trees around him spread out like a sea of crimson streaked with green and dotted with gold. Higher above, dusk bled into the sky, nighttime gloom creeping in as the sun sank out of sight.

The air was cool and breezy, his robes and the leaves around him rustling in the lazy wind. It had been eighty days since he'd become a cultivator and joined the Gleaming Stone Sect. Almost three months. By this point, he should have long since surpassed Meiyao and Daojue, his rivals from the entrance trials. That had been the plan. Jieyuan was a planner. He made plans all the time, for all sorts of things. And he was no stranger to a plan going wrong. But no plan of his had ever gone this badly.

Nearly three months in, and he had very much not surpassed Daojue and Meiyao. If anything, the distance between them had grown. He watched as the sun slowly but surely sank out of sight. It wasn't often he immersed himself in his thoughts like this. He'd spent his every waking moment these last three months working on himself, on his cultivation and his martial arts. But he didn't have much else to do at the moment but think.

It wasn't quite time yet to meet up with the rest of his team to set up camp for the night. He'd also already picked his quota of fatebloom blossoms, a pile of them now stored safely in the expanded internal space of the holder pouch latched to his belt. Cultivating wasn't an option right now; his body had grown used enough to the pain of cultivation—the First Pain—that it tried to fight it instead of just locking him up, freezing him in place like it had done the first few times.

Now it took a great deal of effort just to keep himself still. If he tried to cultivate up here, he'd definitely end up falling. If he'd been above mundane ground, that wouldn't have been a problem. But the soil below was chromal; its Law was a match for his own. A fall from this high up would leave him, if not dead, then wishing he were.

On his way up the tree, he'd considered sticking to a branch of less lethal altitude but had discarded the idea; the local chromal beasts were known to climb up to these lower levels. Said beasts were also the reason he hadn't just stayed on the ground to cultivate. So Jieyuan found himself sinking into his thoughts, his mind turning to the subject of his recent efforts and his lack of progress.

He didn't know what he was doing wrong, why no matter how much effort he put in he just couldn't catch up to those two, but there had to be something. Something he was doing, or maybe something that he wasn't doing. But just as a familiar, sour feeling bubbled inside him, his gaze fell on a small, faint red spot in the distance. Frowning, he scooted up the golden branch, squinting his eyes. There was definitely something there.

A small patch of red peeking out of the treetops, of a distinctly lighter shade than the deep red fatebloom blossom canopy around it. And with the dimming daylight as backdrop, he could clearly tell that it was glowing. Jieyuan had never seen a dust beacon in action before, but that fit the description of one: a glowing cloud of reddish dust. It wasn't as bright as he'd thought it'd be, though. If the sun hadn't been so low, he'd have likely missed it.

He'd also expected it to be a deeper shade of red, the same shade as the beacon pill it came from. Still, it had to be a dust beacon. There was nothing else it could be, not in these circumstances. And that meant someone was in trouble. Jieyuan swung himself up into a crouch on top of a branch, cast a quick look around the crown of the tree he was in, found a branch thick enough to support him further down, and jumped down to it. Then he did it again, jumping down to a lower level.

And again, and again, until the ground was about thirty feet away. No other branches in sight. He eyed the drop, considered climbing down the trunk, and decided he didn't have the time for it. Bracing himself, he pushed off this last branch into free fall. Wind whistled briefly in his ears as he plunged, the golden trunk of the tree blurring. He hit the ground rolling, diffusing the impact through the motion of his body, before snapping right back up to his feet.

He took a moment to steady himself, ignoring the dull aches in his body, then reached for his holder pouch, drew it open with a practiced flick of his fingers, and stuck his hand inside; grasping blindly, he brushed the cool, metallic touch of his spear's shaft. He grabbed it, then drew on his mantle, enhancing his strength, before whipping his arm out in front of him; the spear flew out of the bag, all six feet of hollow steel out in the open.

Just as the spear began to fall, he grabbed onto it with that same hand. His other hand strung the pouch closed before also latching onto the spear. Then, recalling the path he'd taken down the tree, Jieyuan oriented himself in the right direction and set off running, spear held close to his body. As his boots ate up ground, the edges of his vision blurring, he thought the situation through. Who'd sent out the dust beacon?

The only ones beside him in the forest were his teammates for this mission: Daojue, Meiyao, and Rongkai. The first, he dismissed outright. Daojue would sooner die than ask for help, Heavens-high pride that he had. Meiyao could be the one, but Jieyuan didn't find it likely. She would only use a beacon pill if she'd exhausted all other options. Jieyuan was much the same, and like knew like. Rongkai, though… Jieyuan could easily see their leader for this mission using a dust beacon.

Rongkai might be an inner disciple and a chromal step above the three of them, but if Jieyuan were to bet on which of his current teammates would use a beacon pill, that's where his gold would go. The inner disciple was hardly the type to inspire confidence, at least not compared to Daojue and Meiyao. Jieyuan skipped over a pile of fallen branches and rounded a golden behemoth of a trunk.

Half of his attention was on his soulsenses, picking up on the spirit—the spiritual body, overlapping the physical one—of the fatebloom tree he'd just left behind, the undergrowth, and the soil and chromal matter of the forest floor. At second-step, his soulsenses extended twelve feet around him, and a twelve-foot warning could go a long way in keeping him alive.

Jieyuan recalled the sight of the dust beacon in the distance as he'd seen it earlier: a cloud of dust in the distance, barely peeking out of the flower-filled, blood-red canopy. He didn't have a cultivator's perfect recall yet—he'd have to wait until seventh-step for that—but his memory had always been good. Reviewing the memory, he realized something: the dust beacon should have been higher. Way higher, fully above the canopy, so that it could be easily seen from a distance.

Assuming Rongkai had been the one to use it, he mustn't have timed the release properly. He must've somehow fumbled it, then. Implying he'd used it in a hurry. So it was safe to assume the situation was dire—even for a situation that warranted using a beacon pill. That, or it really was Meiyao and Daojue who'd done it. There were two ways to activate a beacon pill. One was to prime it with a little burst of chroma; it'd go off in seconds. The other was through impact.

The first wasn't an option for a second-step Redsoul. The second one was. They'd been instructed to aim it against a tree, as high as they could. Maybe they hadn't aimed it right? No. Daojue and Meiyao wouldn't have made that kind of mistake. Not them. Jieyuan moved past another tree. Still no sight of the dust beacon, but it shouldn't be much farther ahead. He wondered what exactly the situation was. A fatebloom elk was his best guess.

The beasts weren't supposed to roam this area of the woods, so far away from the center, but one of them popping up around here was still more likely than just about anything else. No other chromal beasts were known to live in the Fatebloom Woods, and other cultivators would know better than to start something here, in the Gleaming Stone Sect's territory. Grim anticipation gathered inside him. Odds were he was off to help Rongkai deal with a fatebloom elk, a fifth-step Redrealm beast.

That was definitely much more than Jieyuan could handle as a puny second-step Redrealm. But he didn't need to fight it, only help Rongkai escape, which should at least be feasible. Still not without its risks, but removed enough from the realm of certain death to be worth attempting. Rounding another tree, Jieyuan caught a glimpse of the glow of the dust beacon amid the trees ahead. There we go.

Drawing closer, Jieyuan's soulsenses picked up on the soul and mantle of a third-step Redsoul, and he cleared one last tree to step into a large clearing. The area was almost entirely taken up with beacon dust, red and softly glowing, mist-like. As he'd guessed, Rongkai was there, his topaz-robed back facing Jieyuan, sword in hand, its sleek, straight blade half-raised. But what the inner disciple was up against wasn't a fatebloom elk.

Daojue stood on the other end of the clearing, his spear cradled in his arm, pressing its golden blade against his own throat, a hair's breadth away from the neck shroud he wore. Daojue's face was warped in a tight grimace of pain and effort that took on a haunting quality in the red radiance of the beacon dust around him. His dark violet eyes, tightly narrowed, widened a bit as they met Jieyuan's.

Rongkai must've noticed something was off, because he craned his head to the side just enough to sneak a glance at his back, where Jieyuan was standing. Rongkai looked about as strained as Daojue did, beads of sweat running down his forehead. But he didn't seem to be in pain like Daojue. Jieyuan had always been good at reading faces; Rongkai only looked strained. Terribly strained, to be sure, but just strained.

"Well," Rongkai said hoarsely, tightly, as if speaking was a monumental ordeal.

"That's… inconvenient." Holding out his spear in front of him, already half into a stance and ready to snap into a full one at any moment, Jieyuan walked further into the clearing. He looked back and forth between Daojue and Rongkai. He breathed lightly—the run had hardly winded him—feeling the air, slightly thick with the beacon dust, stream into his lungs. There was a faint, sickeningly sweet scent to it. He could almost place it, but he didn't have the attention to spare for recollection right now.

"An explanation would be nice," he said. He came to a stop near the middle of the clearing, off to the left, where he could keep both Daojue and Rongkai in his field of view. Daojue's grimace deepened. So did Rongkai's. They were sweating up a storm. Between the two of them, they could fill up a pond. Cultivators didn't normally feel too hot (or too cold) by virtue of their Law; since there was no chromal heat source around, that could only be the sweat of sheer, back-breaking effort.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Rongkai, visibly straining to even speak. Daojue, holding his own spear against his neck, the blade just inches away from his neck shroud, and clearly unwillingly.

Call him skeptical, but it didn't seem all that likely to Jieyuan that Daojue had suddenly been overcome by a death wish and decided to behead himself, only to be struck by an extreme case of second thoughts he was now struggling with, and that Rongkai had come over to bear solemn witness to his final moments. Rather, as far as Jieyuan could tell, Rongkai was somehow controlling Daojue's body. He couldn't think of any way he could be doing that besides through a bondskill.

Granted, none of the bondskills Jieyuan knew of could be used to control someone else's body, and he didn't know why Rongkai would want Daojue dead. But it wasn't as if he was familiar with that many bondskills. And knowing what Daojue was like, Jieyuan couldn't really say he was surprised that someone was trying to kill him. The man had been stepping on toes—slamming on them, really—from the moment he'd entered the sect. Still keeping Daojue in his field of vision, Jieyuan took a step toward Rongkai.

"So? I'm waiting on that explanation."

"Don't… do… anything… rash," Rongkai said to Jieyuan without taking his eyes off Daojue. He sounded even more strained than before.

"You… don't know… what you're… getting into." Out of the corner of his eye, Jieyuan saw the edge of Daojue's spear bite into his neck, tearing his neck shroud. The black cloth around it took on a red tinge as blood bubbled around the cut, a red trickle running down the length of the golden blade.

"If this is all a misunderstanding, I'll be sure to apologize later." Jieyuan took another step forward and pointed his spear at Rongkai.

"But for now, I'd appreciate it if you stopped doing whatever it is you're doing to Daojue over there." Rongkai said nothing. All he did was sneak another glance at him. Something exploded in Jieyuan's chest. He staggered back, almost letting go of his spear. A hot, fiery agony, angry and vivid, came over him, and he crumpled, knees meeting ground as he folded down like a tower toppling over. He bit back a scream as the pain surged. He was no stranger to this pain. Not anymore.

He'd faced it regularly these last two months. Faced worse, even, about two weeks ago, when he advanced to second-step. But he'd known exactly what would happen and when. He'd always had time to prepare himself beforehand, to get in the right frame of mind for suffering. Blood boiled. Eyes melted. Viscera sizzled. The sweet scent of the beacon dust was now heady, filling him up, head and lungs, and now he placed it, recollection sliding into the forefront of his mind like the last piece of a puzzle.

Cultivator's Agony. Jieyuan forced himself to stop breathing, to stop taking in any more of the poisonous beacon dust. But he couldn't hold his breath forever. In the haze of all-consuming pain, he could just barely pick out footsteps—and a flash of perception from his soulsenses told him of a third-step Redsoul approaching, slowly but inevitably. He forced himself to look up, to open his eyes and focus. Rongkai was standing just ahead, his sword aimed down at him.

Before Jieyuan could react, Rongkai blurred into movement. But the killing blow never came. Metal struck metal, and Rongkai jumped back. Then the towering form of Daojue took Rongkai's place in front of Jieyuan. Daojue's spear was no longer against his own neck but held ready, aimed at Rongkai. A beat later, Daojue launched himself at Rongkai. Sword met spear—then again and again and again.

By virtue of his higher step, Rongkai should have been faster and stronger than Daojue by half, which in practical terms should have guaranteed victory. And if Rongkai had been facing a normal second-step Redrealm, that'd have been the case. But the one he was up against was Daojue, and Daojue was as far from normal as they came. Rongkai seemed to be only the slightest bit faster, and what little Daojue lacked in speed and power, he made up for it with skill. If anything, Daojue seemed to have the edge.

Jieyuan clenched his hands around the shaft of his spear, bit his lips until they drew blood. The little tang of pain went entirely unnoticed under the raging flames of the agony he was in. Rongkai must've mixed Cultivator's Agony into the beacon pill and done something to mute the pain before it became crippling. That was why he'd set it off so low. And he must've taken an antidote beforehand, too.

Meaning Daojue was also under the effects of Cultivator's Agony, in the same agony Jieyuan was in, whereas Rongkai wasn't. And even so, with the deck stacked so grossly against him, Daojue was more than putting up a fight. Jieyuan still didn't have the full picture, and the dose of Cultivator's Agony he'd breathed in wasn't helping any. But something was perfectly clear in this utter mess. Rongkai had just tried to kill him, and Daojue had intervened. Daojue had saved him. But Jieyuan shouldn't have needed saving.

And while he couldn't change what had already happened, he did have a say in what came next, and he had no intention of sitting back and watching like some helpless, hapless bystander. Jieyuan took a shuddering breath. Poisonous dust pooled in his lungs, but he was past caring. Breathing helped him focus, helped him gather his strength, and he needed every ounce of it he could get right now.

For almost three months now, wherever he'd go, Daojue's shadow would loom over him, trivializing him by sheer virtue of his existence. For almost three months now, Daojue had remained hopelessly out of his reach, a goalpost moving away faster than he ran toward it. And now Daojue was at it again, doing what Jieyuan couldn't. Being better. And Jieyuan wasn't having that. Heavens damn and beggar him, he wasn't rotting having that.

Pride, envy, and indignation met each other like flint, striker, and tinder, and a different fire sparked inside him. One that empowered rather than burned. A Firesoul's fire, hot and heady and rousing. Jieyuan threw all he had into it. It roared, and for an instant it was louder than the First Pain, filling him with its stirring, scorching strength. Jieyuan forced himself to stand up straight, tightening his hold on his muscles until they seemed to be on the verge of collapsing on themselves.

Usually, the best he could do while under the First Pain was sitting still and forcing out the imbuing hymn. He'd never tried to do much more. Had never needed to. But Daojue was in the same boat and fighting Rongkai. And if Daojue could do it, the Heavens knew that so could Jieyuan. Jieyuan advanced by a step, then another, then another.

He focused on the movement, on the fiery rush that fueled it, rather than the angry, white blooms of pain that tore at him and the sensation of every part of his body cooking in its own fluids, melting without end. Slowly, but picking up speed as he went, Jieyuan shook off more and more of the First Pain as the fire claimed more and more ground inside him. The First Pain was still there, a white-hot haze of pure agony, running amok inside him, threatening to tear his mind apart, but it didn't matter.

If Daojue can do it, so can I. Heavens be my witness. As Jieyuan drew closer, he stepped into the trees, then circled around Daojue and Rongkai, who were still clashing sword to spear. Each step was its own eternity. But Daojue was fighting above his step under that same pain. How pathetic would it be if Jieyuan couldn't even walk? One eternal step at a time, Jieyuan got himself into position—right behind Rongkai. Rongkai, who had all his attention on Daojue.

Rongkai, who couldn't afford to pay attention to anything else. Rongkai, whose back was free and open and just begging to be run through with a foot of cold steel. Jieyuan reached deep inside himself and mustered all his strength. Then he lunged, throwing everything he had into a thrust. His spear shot forward in a gray blur and buried itself in Rongkai's back all the way to the shaft. Dead in the center, right through the spine.

For a moment, Jieyuan just stared, blankly, at the spot where the spearhead had disappeared into. Around it, orange cloth bloomed dark red. With a jerk, Rongkai turned his head back. His eyes found Jieyuan's. Wild, crazed, searching. A golden arc swung out, and Rongkai's head flew into the air, and Jieyuan found himself staring past the stump of Rongkai's neck at Daojue, who had his spear extended out in front of him, the golden blade hovering just past the shoulder of Rongkai's now headless body.

Blood, warm and red, splattered on his face, and a dull thump sounded as Rongkai's head landed somewhere to the side. Then Rongkai's corpse crumpled to the ground, and the fire deserted Jieyuan. He let go of his spear, and it fell beside the corpse it was still attached to. The First Pain struck with vengeance, and his body tipped over. A hand grabbed onto Jieyuan's shoulder and held him up. His legs shook. It took all he had not to scream as the First Pain wreaked havoc inside him.

Still, he forced himself to look up. The hand holding him was Daojue's. Daojue was right in front of him, towering over his half-bent form. Daojue's other hand held his spear like a pillar, its butt-end pressed firmly against the ground. And then the hand on Jieyuan's shoulder extended outward, grabbing Jieyuan around the chest, just under his arm. Overwhelmed by the pain, Jieyuan was only distantly aware of what was happening as Daojue half-dragged, half-carried him out of the poisonous dust cloud.

Barely seconds passed after they left the cloud when the First Pain vanished, leaving just as abruptly as the fire had fled him earlier. The relief was so great that Jieyuan's legs gave in again, but Daojue kept his hold on him. Rotting Heavens. Jieyuan shuddered, then straightened up, pulling himself together. Daojue unhooked his arm from around Jieyuan, moving his hand back to Jieyuan's shoulder to support him. Just behind Daojue, Jieyuan could see the red boundary of the area taken up by the beacon dust.

"I'm all right now," Jieyuan said. Daojue stared down at him, violet eyes deep and unreadable, before releasing his hold on him. Sweat clung to Daojue's body, his face glistening under the glow of the beacon dust; Jieyuan was feeling fairly drenched himself.

"Heavens, what a mess," Jieyuan murmured. He looked down at him, up at Daojue, and then back at the beacon dust. He sighed and extended his hand toward Daojue.

"Thank you." Daojue regarded him silently for a long moment, but just as Jieyuan started to frown, wondering whether to pull back his hand, Daojue reached out and clasped it. An explosion shook Jieyuan's mind. AMYASAMYASAMYAS— Jieyuan stumbled back; Daojue let go, and he doubled over, clutching his head. His head was killing him. Like his brain was swelling, ballooning up, while his skull stayed the same size.

There was just so much—memories, thoughts, people, names, images—inside his brain now and it needed space to accommodate it all and even more things just kept flowing in and in and in and in and in and in and there was just no stop to it like a broken faucet and there was no space left and—"Jieyuan?" Jieyuan? Who? He looked up. Someone was looming over him. Someone massive. Who? He had no idea. Where was he anyway, and wasn't he supposed to be in his bedroom, waiting for his sister to call…

He shook his head furiously. That didn't make sense. He didn't have a sister. Wait, no. What? That was silly. He did have a sister. Maeva. How could he possibly forget Maeva?

"Jieyuan?" He blinked wildly and jerked his head up, but all he saw was a swathe of ruby-red cloth with boots underneath it. Bewildered, he looked back down and saw how close he was to the ground. Saw how he was on his hands and knees, the same ruby-red robe over his body. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen down.

He had to get up and figure out where he was and just what was going on and get something for his head because the mother of all headaches was still going on firm and strong and if anything it just kept getting worse and… And… And he knew no more. —∞— Awareness came as gently as a sucker punch. Eyes flew open to a brightening sky and then shut themselves just as quickly. Jieyuan jerked up halfway into a sitting position before lying back down.

His head throbbed as if a jagged blade had been repeatedly rammed into it. Groaning, he fully turned his body over so that his back faced the sky, then pushed himself off the ground, slowly. Already, he could feel the headache letting up, receding like water down a drain. He pushed himself into a kneeling position, legs folded into themselves. There he stayed, taking slow and steady breaths, as he waited for the headache to pass.

"Jieyuan?" A woman's voice. Melodious, but strong and resonant. He opened his eyes. A woman was standing in front of him. A beautiful one, so much so it beggared belief. Meiyao. Brown hair that cascaded in thick waves down her shoulders. Green eyes that neither jade nor emerald could hope to measure up to. A face straight out of a masterwork painting. A body with curves that drew the eye despite the thick ruby robes draped over them, robes that would have given most women a man's straight lines.

After the couple of missions they'd had together, Jieyuan had thought he'd gotten used to the sight of her. But seeing her cast in the soft glow of the morning sun, framed by a crimson curtain of fatebloom blossoms above, had him staring, struck dumb, even if just for a moment. Then his gaze drifted past her, to where a man was standing. Impossibly tall, built like a fortress, marble skin cut into sharp lines like a statue chiseled to perfection and given life. Daojue.

Handsome like Meiyao was beautiful, but cold where she was warm. The two fit each other like gold and diamonds. Jieyuan felt the sharp, biting burst of envy scorch him with uncomfortable familiarity. Then he noticed Meiyao was looking at him, expectant, and starting to frown.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Just give me a moment." He stood up, taking a look around. The headache from before was already mostly gone. He was in the Fatebloom Woods. In a clearing. Last night's events came to him. He'd seen a dust beacon, run over, and then… His eyes fell on the headless corpse on the other side of the glade, a bloodstained shroud half-wrapped around what remained of the neck.

A head lay a few feet away from it, the bloody, gaping stump of the neck facing him, a gory jumble of dark red flesh and blood with a hint of white bone. He looked down and saw that his spear was by his feet, its blade darkened by dried blood.

"I arrived not long after everything was over." Meiyao stepped up beside him, facing the same direction. Her gaze turned to him.

"What happened, anyway? Daojue said you fell unconscious right after he took you out of the dust cloud." Jieyuan recalled the headache that had suddenly struck him and the sheer confusion that had come along with it. That abrupt, overwhelming rush of memories and thoughts and ideas.

"I'm not sure." Even as he said so, a name rose to the forefront of his mind. Just as with the headache, the confusion that had come over him last night was now mostly passed, but beneath the surface level of his mind occupied by his thoughts, there was a chaotic simmer of memories. Amyas.