Yao Shen sensed the wary gazes of the villagers, their expressions one of trepidation and caution as they scrutinized the cultivator who calmly hovered above their home, his satin- white robes fluttering with a gentle breeze. For whilst the residents of Seris Village were not entirely unaccustomed to the presence of cultivators, they had always worn either azure-blue, earthen-brown or fiery-red colored robes. Not white. Never white.
A group of children that had been play-fighting with wooden swords, fantasizing of one day becoming Qi-Cultivators that roamed the Azlak Plains in search of adventure and glory froze when confronted by the object of their envy. The cacophony of the small village market could be heard from afar; the age-old back and forth as men and women alike passionately haggled with mortal shopkeepers, the discordant sound of a hammer striking metal as a young, likely an apprentice blacksmith, applied the finishing touches to a harvesting sickle, and a gaggle of families making conversation over supper— only to be replaced by an abrupt, deathly silence.
The womenfolk hurriedly clasped the hands of their children and rushed to their homes, barring their doors with a thick wooden plank while the older children reached for the hatch that was camouflaged beneath either coarse, makeshift carpets or old spiritual beast hide. They scurried in without second thought, following the unofficial protocol that was used for beast tides.
Most of the grown men however, reached for any blade or even farming implement in the vicinity, as long as it was made of mortal metal. Fear was reflected in their gazes, yet the symbolism behind their actions was equally evident— they did not know who Yao Shen was, or what he wanted from them. But if the unknown, foriegn cultivator wished to harm their wives or children, they would have to go through them first.
It was not Yao Shen’s intention to alarm the peaceful folk of Seris Village and the more well-informed among them ought to have realised that by now— for the Demonic Path’s attacks were always as swift as they were ruthless, their intention to cause as much destruction before the Righteous Path Sects in the vicinity could dispatch reinforcements. A Demonic Path cultivator would not deign to inform the villagers of his presence, for honor was an entirely unfamiliar concept to them.
But in doing so, he had stumbled upon an uncomfortable reality—one that he, like his predecessors, had always known of, but never been able to address. Depending on one’s perspective, the villagers current plight could be seen as either pitiful or admirable. Pitiful, for the only defense the villagers could muster was a futile show of force, for both the mortal men and Yao Shen alike knew that nothing could stop him if he truly meant harm to their mortal dwellings. Admirable for the very same reason, for while blades and bloodshed could not shake the core tenets of a Demonic Path Cultivator, perhaps such a raw display of bravery in the face of certain death could. Though Yao Shen would not count on it.
It did not require a Soul Emperor to level Seris Village. And neither was a Nascent Soul Grandmaster needed, for that would be akin to using a boulder to hammer in a nail. Merely a single core formation cultivator, or a group of foundation establishment cultivators was enough to reduce this mortal village to naught but ash. Granted, daring to launch an attack so close to the Sacred Flame Palace was not without a high degree of risk, but… the demons were nothing if not bold.
“Fear not, denizens of Seris Village. I am Yao Shen, Patriarch of the Heavenly Sky Sect, and I mean you no harm,” His voice echoed out, his tone gentle and reassuring.
A cultivator dressed in the colors of the Sacred Flame Palace stepped forward, his scrutinizing gaze falling on Yao Shen, before he nodded.
“That is indeed the Patriarch of the Heavenly Sky Sect,” he spoke aloud, for all the villagers nearby to hear, including a middle-aged man in his late forties whose worried expression immediately eased upon receiving confirmation. Yao Shen had intentionally addressed himself by his former title, in an effort to avoid any further confusion— for he did not expect the villagers or the Sacred Flame Palace Guardian to have heard of the Modern Sect’s establishment this soon.
Surprisingly, the Guardian himself did not seem perturbed by Yao Shen’s presence deep within Sacred Flame Palace territory. Though he would report this matter to his Sect at the earliest opportunity, one of the cardinal principles of the Righteous Path forbade the disputes of cultivators from stretching onto the mortal world. This was precisely the reason why, Yao Shen, like his predecessors, could not make major headways in changing the landscape of mortal infrastructure— for whilst the safety of mortals was the combined responsibility of all major Righteous Path forces in the region, the deterorating relationship between the three hegemons of the Azlak Plains prevented any meaningful change from being implemented.
Yao Shen’s gaze shifted back to the middle-aged man dressed in a cream-colored tunic and plain white breeches, the cut of his fabric a little finer than the villagers that flocked towards him, his rotund build a mark of wealth and prosperity; for whilst the mortal villagers were all well-fed, between their physically demanding jobs and a limited surplus, few had the privilege of eating and drinking for pleasure instead of sustenance.
Yao Shen watched calmly as the corpulent man instructed a few men around him, the tone of authority in his voice unmistakable. He soon identified the man as Seris Village’s chief, as a young man broke off from the growing throng of villagers that were congregating near the Chief and the Guardian, sprinting towards the center of their settlement.
His destination was made clear as he slowed down his pace, approaching a large metal gong that was placed atop a pedestal. The young man hoisted the wooden mallet had been leaning upon it, striking the gong thrice— an indication to the remaining villagers that remained in hiding, that the threat had passed.
Only after the women and children had begun to tricke out from their hideaways did Yao Shen begin his slow descent, gently landing in front of the village chief.
“L-Lord Cultivator,” the village chief stuttered, the air of authority around him instantly evaporating the moment he landed; his head was slightly lowered in deference and he did not dare lock eyes with Yao Shen. He took a moment to compose himself, drawing upon his wealth of experience as the chief, before continuing, “What brings your esteemed self to our humble village?”.
Yao Shen’s expression turned ponderous, unsurprised by the caution the village chief showed him. “Before we discuss the purpose of my visit, there is one thing that I am curious about.”
“Please ask, Lord Cultivator,” The village chief replied, his tone still cautious but far less tense than before.
“Why did you and the men of the village not flee when you first saw me? Surely you do not believe that mortal steel could harm me?” he asked.
The village chief slightly blanched at the question, his expression turning hesitant as he thought of ways to avoid a direct answer.
“Speak your mind, Village Chief. Upon my honor as Patriarch, you will face no repercussions from the Sacred Flame Palace for speaking your mind,” Yao Shen encouraged.
His words had the intended effect, as the village chief hesitated no longer, “It is true, lord cultivator. We…,” he said, his gaze shifting to the gathering of villagers behind him, “.... did not truly expect to injure you with our blades. Had it been a beast tide, we would have taken shelter under our houses and hope that the spiritual beasts would pass by us after destroying our village. However, the senses and intelligence of a cultivator such as yourself cannot be fooled— our weapons may be poor in make and our strength feeble, but if we choose to stand our ground…. perhaps, we may buy enough time for the Sacred Flame Palace’s reinforcements to arrive.”
Yao Shen fell silent for a moment, unable to imagine how frustrating it would be for the villagers of Seris Village— to be attacked by hostiles that wished to harm their families and yet…. lack the strength to defend their loved ones. Part of him had forgotten the privilege of powerful cultivators, for whilst he had many worries and equally as many concerns, the sheer inability to defend his sect from hostile elements was not one of them.
“I see,” Yao Shen replied, his left fist slightly clenched as he tried to imagine the rage the villagers of Seris Village must feel, at their own inability, at the ruthless world they had been born in and finally at the Heavenly Dao, for denying them the ability to protect what they loved.
“Lord Cultivator!” A young, chipper voice interrupted their conversation, both Yao Shen and the village chief’s gaze shifting to a young mortal boy that could not be older than twelve, his eyes brimming with curiosity. The boy’s mother looked mortified, but her son was far too eager to be interrupted, “Have you come to select disciples?”
Before the mother could move to profusely apologise, Yao Shen walked towards the boy and gave his hair a light, friendly tousle. “No child, the time has not yet come,” he explained, his tone apologetic. The boy’s energetic demeanor immediately wilted, his expression turning somewhat sullen.
“However, I have a gift for you,” Yao Shen added, with a small smile.
“A gift?” he asked, his interest immediately piqued.
Yao Shen’s divine sense scoured his spatial ring for a suitable gift, settling on a small dagger that was exceptionally light, an early stage Qi-Refinement blade. The blade itself was useless for Yao Shen or even any of his disciples, his spatial ring having amassed a plethora of odds and ends amassed over the years. But when Yao Shen pulled the small dagger out of his spatial ring, the boy’s gaze was immediately captivated.
It’s bluish-bronze surface glinted in the sunlight, it’s sharpness beyond any mortal blade’s capabilities. Yao Shen sheathed the blade, handing it to the boy’s mother who immediately understood, bowing low before accepting it.
“The blade shall be yours when you come of age. Until then, be a filial child to your mother and work hard, in whatever pursuit you end up choosing.”
“Thank you, Lord Cultivator,” The child bowed, clearly overjoyed at the bestowal. The surrounding villagers watched the young child with awe, some immediately concluding that the child would become a powerful cultivator in the future, while others watched on in jealousy, wishing it were their child that had received the bestowal. However, none would dare to lay their hands on a gift by a cultivator, and the boy’s status had been forever elevated within Seris Village.
Yao Shen gave the boy a nod, before he moved to address the villagers.
“As for the purpose of my visit, I must admit that I was merely passing by the region. However, now that I am here, as a practitioner of the Water Dao, while I cannot reverse the effect of aging, I can help stymie it. Water Qi will cleanse your body of impurities, allowing it to heal old wounds and slowly repair the wear and tear of time; if you so will it,” Yao Shen offered, much to the surprise of the Elders who carefully observed from a distance. While healers were occasionally dispatched from the sects to heal mortals, it was only limited to those in urgent need. A powerful cultivator such as Yao Shen offering to heal an entire village… was almost unheard of.
“Many thanks, Lord Cultivator,” The village chief almost shouted in his excitement, offering a deep, respectful bow to Yao Shen.
The villagers behind him echoed that sentiment, each one offering him a bow in deep gratitude.
The village chief’s men started organizing the crowd into one singular, long line that stretched from one end of Seris Village to the other, while those who did not seek healing were asked to step out of the crowd and stay at a distance.
One by one, the villagers stepped forward to receive healing, and Yao Shen sent a gentle pulse of Water Qi through their bodies that eliminated all impurities it made contact with. The ones who were healed would soon cough out a black, tarry substance, then profusely thank Yao Shen. The elderly mortals now walked with a vigour in their step, their loose skin no longer sagging and their eyes brimming with vitality. Their wrinkles had receded, each elderly man and woman looking almost twenty years younger. It was beyond Yao Shen’s ability to give them their youth back, but their confidence? That, he could.
The sickly would no longer be troubled by their poor constitution, and old injuries would no longer trouble the once injured.
As the crowd of people requiring healing dwindled, Yao Shen instinctively knew that he would recieve the answer to his question soon.
So he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he had activated his human sight.
There were many questions that even Yao Shen, the Soul Emperor of the Azlak Plains, was afraid to ask.
After retrieving his memories of the lifetime he had spend on Earth, there were many questions that he dared not dwell upon too deeply, lest they result in the creation of a heart demon.
For one, there was the similarity between Earth and Eliria. He found himself asking if his reincarnation had truly been a mistake, a cosmic miscalculation that resulted in his arrival on the continent of Ionea. Earlier, Yao Shen would discount any other possibility off-handedly, but now…. he could not help but wonder if there were greater forces at work.
Was he meant to change Ionea? Eliria itself? The mere idea sounded preposterous, laughable even, for he had received no special boon from the heavens, nothing but the animosity of the Heavenly Dao. Yet, he had ascended to Soul Emperor. And now, he sought to reshape this new world in the image of his old one, albeit better.
Then, there was the existence of humans itself. What were the odds that the same species could be found on two different planets? Eliria had two moons and one sun and the conditions for life were similar. What was the connection between Earth and Eliria?
If there truly was a connection, did that mean there was a way back to his home planet? If given the choice, would he choose to go back?
Eliria was cloaked in a fog of mystery, and there were many questions that he would perhaps, never recieve the answer to.
Yet, there was one among them that he required an answer to, if he wished to involve mortals in his vision for the Modern Sect.
Ionia, and Eliria itself was an ancient land. Though Yao Shen could not be sure when mortal civilization first sprang up, he would venture a guess that it was as old, if not older, than the first human that walked on Earth.
Yet mortals were merely a footnote in the history of cultivators, there was no mention of sprawling mortal cities that had thrived in the past, no record of historical discoveries or inventions attributed to their name. There was no dearth of legendary figures in the cultivation world, but when it came to mortal heroes the list was all but empty.
While the humans of Earth had started from nothing, using sharpened rocks to hunt in the early days, then discovering various metals scattered across the Earth and learning to forge them, making sharp blades that could slice through bone and sinew alike. Then came the discovery of gunpowder that was used to create weapons that moved faster than human reflexes could adapt to, and finally, there was the creation of weapons so potent that even Yao Shen had no confidence in surviving them.
Their cities were vast jungles of concrete and metal, their inventions allowing them to accomplish feats they themselves could not dream of and their trade, prosperous.
Why then, was there such a difference between the mortals of Ionea and the humans of Earth?
As Yao Shen opened his eyes, the final piece of the puzzle finally fit into place— in that moment, he knew he had the answer. A cloud of reverence so thick that it was almost suffocating ensconced the villagers, its silvery-white radiance stinging at his eyes. Every mortal man and woman alike, whether they had been healed by him or not, revered his presence as if…. as if…. he were a deity.
What need was there to cure mortal afflictions when cultivatiors such as Yao Shen could do it with the tap of his finger?
The answer, naturally, was to strive hard to become a cultivator, until one day they were proficient enough to heal their ailing parents!
What need was there to spend years to develop architecture, when cultivators could raise walls and housing in a matter of days?
How could mere mortals, that required weeks just to harvest wheat, dare to think about raising tall buildings with their meagre strength? No, no such matters were naturally the realm of cultivators.
Why should mortals spend their limited livespans researching weaponry, to devise counter measures against spiritual beasts; when cultivators could slay them by hand?
If one wished revenge against the spiritual beasts that terrorized their small village, one naturally had to defy the heavens and step upon the path of a mighty cultivator!
Yao Shen realized that the problem the mortals of Ionea faced was not that of ability, intelligence, determination or even skill. For he had seen the determination of the mortal villagers when they had stood their ground against a foriegn cultivator, he had first hand experienced their intelligence and skill when he had lived among them for six months and unlocked his human dao, and he had no doubts about their ability, for he too, was once a mortal.
The problem was one of mindset.
Yao Shen left the village not long after, having healed the last of the villagers. Having finally received the answer he sought after, he now knew what he must do.
Soon, the vague outline of the Sacred Flame Palace was visible in the distance.