Violet Heart

by Patrick Laplante

  “I’ll be waiting patiently,” Brother Li said. With that, he and the cultivators who’d just returned flew off toward various locations in the sect.

  Likely to visit their families, Zi Long thought. He flew off with the guard captain toward the center of the sect, where a large purple rock spire jutted out from the ground. A staircase affixed to the outside of the spire led to nine black wooden doors. At the peak of the spire was a small palace-like structure and a small wooden shack just outside it.

  “The grand elder’s residence is just below the Violet Palace,” the guard explained as they climbed the steps. Here, the mental pressure was much greater than when they’d scaled the mountain. “Only the sect master is qualified to live in the palace where the sect guardian treasure is located. He is also the only one qualified to receive guests there.”

  Zi Long nodded and followed the man. Though most of the nine caves were occupied, there were two without names on the doors.

  There must only be seven elders including the grand elder, he thought. According to what Fan Yong mentioned before, they are all his personal disciples. They should know where he is.

  They soon arrived at the last door on the spire. The guard captain knocked, then patiently waited. The door opened, inviting Zi Long inside. Having delivered his charge, the guard captain retreated, leaving him to enter on his own.

  “Greetings, Brother Zi,” a middle-aged man in purple robes said as he walked in. “Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a tea table in the center of the room. Despite the small external appearance of the cave, the inside was rather spacious. Several servants scurried about the reception hall, preparing food and beverages. The weakest amongst them were foundation-establishment cultivators, which was only fitting given the grand elder’s initial-core-formation cultivation. “Might I inquire what pressing news Brother Zi has to deliver?”

  “Certainly,” Zi Long said, taking a sip of the green spirit tea. A wonderful sensation filled his weary soul as the tea worked its magic. He savored this sensation that relieved much of the weariness he’d accumulated during his time in captivity. “You might be aware that the Violet Sect leader is part of a transcendent organization called the Alabaster Group. I happen to be a good friend of his from the Alabaster Group in Quicksilver City. Recently, however, I received some troubling news. I couldn’t help but travel here to make sure he was all right.”

  “This…” the grand elder said hesitantly. “Please forgive me, but what news did you receive exactly?”

  “He only sent simple message,” Zi Long said. “Which was uncharacteristic, given his talkative nature. He only left a single world. Help. None of our members have been able to contact him since.”

  The grand elder sighed. “I’m aware of my teacher’s whereabouts. He encountered some trouble while in seclusion a while ago. We were able to give him some timely assistance, but for now, we’re not allowing any outside visitors. Interrupting him at this point could prove fatal.

  “Fatal? Is there anything I can do to help?” Zi Long asked worriedly.

  “Nothing,” the grand elder replied.

  “Might I be able to see him?” Zi Long asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” the grand elder said. “As much as I would like you to see our master, his seclusion this time is unusual. Any interruptions could be devastating. When he sent you the message, he also sent me the same message through my core-transmission jade.”

  The man held out a jade orb and displayed the message as proof. “I was able to assist him right away, and he was able to evade much of the trouble.”

  “But he’s not responding to our messages,” Zi Long pressed. “Forgive me for being blunt, but it’s difficult for me to accept the situation. At least tell me where he is.”

  “He’s on this mountain,” the grand elder said after thinking for a moment. “Feel free to ask any elders you meet, and they’ll tell you the same thing. If you insist on meeting Master, you can wait. In the meantime, you can stay in the sect and enjoy the same treatment as a core disciple. If there are any favorable developments, I will let you know as soon as possible.” The man’s tone, while soft, made it clear that there was no room for negotiation.

  “I see,” Zi Long said. “Then I wonder if you could do me a favor.” He summoned a purple jade slip, which contained the words Honorary Elder. “Brother Fan gifted me this token, as he thought it might come in handy should I meet any sect members. I was wondering if I could use my identity as a sect elder to occupy one of the empty caves on the spire.”

  The grand elder’s eyes rested on the token for a few moments before looking back to Zi Long. “Of course,” he said, giving Zi Long a light bow. “Not only that, you’ll be assigned servants, cultivation resources, and access to our facilities, just like any other elder. You can even learn our techniques, though you’ll have to forgive me for saying you can’t practice them. These techniques require an initiation by our sect master. Given his current condition, he is currently unable to perform it.”

  “That’s fine,” Zi Long said. “Just let me know if you hear anything.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” the grand elder said.

  Zi Long bowed one last time before making his way to the second cave from the bottom. He inspected his new accommodations, which contained a cultivation room, several workshops, a reception hall, and bedchambers. Before he knew it, several servants had entered and completely redecorated the place. They also affixed his name on the black wooden door.

  Can it really be so simple? Zi Long thought as he munched on freshly delivered spirit fruit. Could he really just have entered seclusion and experienced a cultivation setback?

  He organized what little he knew about the sect and resolved to ask around. Given the aggressiveness of the devil cultivators near the sect, he was sure there was more to this matter. Unfortunately, interrupting a man’s seclusion was taboo, and core-formation cultivators were guarding him to boot. As much as he wanted to rush past them and see his friend again, he could only wait.

  Chapter 19

  Zi Long passed a cluster of junior disciples as he walked through the library’s front gate unimpeded. The guards, who initially sought to stop him, quickly backed off when they saw the violet elder’s token he presented. As soon as he entered the ancient marble building, a foundation-establishment cultivator ran up and greeted him.

  “How may I be of assistance, honored elder?” he asked.

  “I wish to browse through the sect’s combat techniques,” Zi Long said.

  “Our sect has collected many techniques from around the continent over the years,” the man said proudly. “I, Wu Zedong, would be happy to show them to you.”

  “Please lead the way,” Zi Long said. He followed the man up five flights of stairs, then stopped and waited patiently in front of what appeared to be a locked door. Zi Long quickly realized what was required of him; he swiped his elder token on an identification plate, and the door slid open for both of them.

  “While I might not have the authority to open the door, I’ve been here many times,” Wu Zedong said. “What might you be looking for? I’ve heard of your exploits from my fellow sect members. They say you’re skilled with staff arts, deadly with formations, and you command versatile sigil techniques.”

  “I heard from Brother Fan that the Violet Heart Sect possesses three sect-protecting techniques,” Zi Long said. “I wish to browse through them to see if I can gain some enlightenment on my illusory arts.”

  “A man of many talents, I see,” Wu Zedong said. “Our sect is quite famous for its illusory arts. The thing is… I’m afraid looking at the technique won’t do you much good. Cultivating it requires a minimum amount of violet heart force, which, to be blunt, is not something outsiders can obtain. My apologies for my rudeness, but I suggest that you give up on this.”

  “No need,” Zi Long said with a light smile. “If I fail to gain enlightenment, I’ll consider it a humbling experience.”
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br />   Wu Zedong bowed. “As you wish, Elder Zi,” he said. “Please follow me to the back.” As they were on the fifth floor, only a few books and techniques sat on the sparse shelves. Some of them were stored on jade slips while others were written on scrolls. Some didn’t even have detailed instructions; instead, they were taught through demonstration by a holographic projection. Each cultivator’s interpretation of their movements would be different, a final product based on their own understanding.

  Before long, they arrived at the back, where three tall slabs of purple stone were affixed to the wall. They were shrouded by a violet mist that obscured it to the naked eye.

  “These are the techniques you wish to study,” Wu Zedong said, gesturing at the tablets with his hand.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said I’d be wasting my time,” Zi Long said. “How am I supposed to gain enlightenment on them without even seeing them? Is there some way of banishing the mist?”

  “The only way to ‘see’ through the mist is by sensing the tablets with violet heart force,” Wu Zedong explained. “One must slowly probe the surface of the tablet to gain enlightenment, and the speed at which one is able to do this depends on heart-force density and will. Only core disciples in the sect have a chance at obtaining a technique. In my lifetime, I’ve only heard of twenty such cases.”

  “Let me give it a try,” Zi Long said. “No need to wait here. This may take a while.”

  He sat cross-legged on the middle prayer mat and closed his eyes. After some time, the accompanying cultivator disappeared.

  “Let’s see if it’s truly impossible to study this without violet heart force,” Zi Long muttered.

  He cast his incandescent force toward the first slab and noticed he couldn’t see anything. The mist was completely invisible to incandescent force, as though it was devouring it on contact. After confirming this basic fact, he probed it in many other ways. He tried all sorts of different directions, as well as various illusory techniques, but to no avail.

  “It seems I have no choice but to expose it, then.”

  Zi Long retracted his incandescent force and stilled his body until he was barely breathing. The room was eerily quiet, to the point where one might wonder if he was simply a statue among many others. Then, from the silence sprung a violet mist. The thin mist hovered around Zi Long’s head as it left his body for the first time. It was a gift from his friend Fan Yong, a gift that he was reluctant to show off.

  As the wisp traveled through the air toward the tablet, the haze obscuring it parted. Zi Long inspected the top, which read “Seven Emotions Soul Refinement.” It was a rare soul-cultivation technique that almost guaranteed a breakthrough to the transcendent soul realm. It also transformed a soul qualitatively. Like Buddhist monks and evil spirits, one would be forced to ascend to a higher realm upon achieving consummation in the technique.

  Uninterested in this particular technique, Zi Long directed his heart force to the leftmost tablet. This time, he saw a martial technique named Violet Illusion Palm Strike. While the technique was deadly, it wasn’t what he was looking for. What he needed now was a strong illusion technique.

  Strong enough to trap him, if only for a single breath, he thought. Visions of bloody carnage flashed through his mind before he willed the purple wisp to the rightmost tablet.

  There it is, Zi Long thought. The Six Desires Fate-Converging Art. The middle technique was for personal strength, while the leftmost technique supplemented combat. The Six Desires Fate-Converging Art, on the other hand, was an offensive illusion technique. It could beguile his foes, trapping them in a cage of their own making. And if they were weak enough, that cage could even kill them.

  The violet wisp swiftly cut through the mist enshrouding the tablet. Though Zi Long’s eyes were closed and his incandescent force was pulled back, an outline began appearing in his spiritual sea. It started with the name and was followed by a line and diagram. The line was a mnemonic, while the diagram was a heart-force application pathway. Both were branded into his spiritual sea as his heart force invaded every nook and cranny of the tablet.

  The aptly named Six Desires Fate-Converging Art consisted of six stages, one for each desire. The first desire Zi Long uncovered was greed. Greed for power. Greed for treasure. Greed for attention. Many different possibilities flooded through his mind as his heart force scanned the tablet. In essence, greed was the general want for other people’s things and relationships. It had led to the downfall of countless men, women, and even nations.

  After uncovering the first line and first diagram, Zi Long proceeded to the second. This time, he wasn’t assaulted by external images. Instead, he remained fixated on himself. He found it rather enjoyable to look at his own image, and only after looking at it for a long while did he notice that the second line spoke of the second desire: vanity.

  The second line and second diagram were soon etched into his spiritual sea. The moment his heart force contacted the third line, he imagined the adoration of the crowds. He thought of receiving the acknowledgment of his master and holding an esteemed position on the continent.

  It’s dignity, he thought. Many men have ruined themselves in their search for status and respect. It’s different than loving yourself. Rather, it’s the desire to be loved by others, the desire for external approval.

  Once he finished with the third line and diagram, he found an empty spot on the tablet. Yet at this moment, he heard the gentle chiming of a bell. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, a melody unlike any other. The sound seeped into his heart and soul and brought him untold pleasure and relaxation.

  The desire for pleasant sounds, Zi Long thought. I remember the story of a courtesan. Through a single song, she enthralled an emperor and brought ruin to an entire dynasty. From that moment on, he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice again. He never did.

  The sound soon faded, but not before being etched into his soul. The next line contained no mnemonic either. Instead it contained a familiar wheel. As he stared at the wheel, he remembered his birth, his childhood, and his present life. Unlike his actual life, this one was free from suffering, pleasant in all ways. Then he imagined his future, and finally, his peaceful, painless death. It was the desire for a good life and a good death, the desire shared by all the common people in the world.

  Finally, his heart force rested on the most complex of the six diagrams. It was accompanied by three mnemonics, and upon sensing it, he imagined falling into the embrace of a tender woman with silky-smooth skin. They made love for what seemed like far too short a time. But by the end of it, Zi Long was famished. Moments later, the most sumptuous feast he’d ever seen appeared in front of him. He gorged himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, and when he finished, he felt like if he died today, he’d die a happy man. He realized that he’d been trapped by the desire for sensory enjoyment.

  At that moment, a crystal chime woke him from his stupor. It was soft and clear, seeming to pass through all obstacles. Zi Long looked inside his spiritual sea and noticed that the purple tablet had finished imprinting itself. When he cast his senses outside the library, he realized that six days had passed since he’d first entered, one for each of the six desires.

  “What a powerful illusory art,” he whispered. “The day I finish cultivating this soul art will be the day of his death.”

  Then he remembered why he was here in the first place. It was time to see the grand elder again.

  Chapter 20

  Ling Dong woke to a growling stomach. He’d been sleeping to conserve energy, something he rarely did. Unfortunately, he had little choice in the matter. They’d been here for a week with nothing more than spirit fruit to eat.

  “How are you holding out?” he asked Darkwing, who was huddled in the back of the cave. His wings and back were healing, but the spirit fruits were losing their effectiveness. They both knew the reason—they were hungry, and the young drake’s body needed energy to heal.

  We can’t ke
ep holding on like this, Darkwing said, lifting his head.

  After spending weeks with the drake, he could see the telltale signs of starvation. His ribs weren’t exposed like a human’s would be, but his scales were starting to lose their luster, and his horns were receding. Though the proud demon did his best to hide it, his legs trembled with every step he took. You should go back. Not to the plateau, but to your home. I’ll turn myself in to the mountain sovereign, and perhaps she’ll show mercy.

  Ling Dong weighed this option. His companion’s wings were almost fully healed, but their nutritional deficiency was a real problem. Ling Dong’s own strength had taken a hit as well. He was forced to sleep when inactive, and even then, he often committed mistakes when out foraging. It was only a matter of time until his injuries became just as bad as the drake’s.

  What’s the point of it all? He thought. If things were as Darkwing said, there was a chance for them to escape this situation unharmed. But it was risky and required submission. And unlike what common sense would dictate in this situation, his pride was rearing its ugly head. Dying was one thing, but submitting? Maybe. He summoned his sword and looked at its notched blade. It reminded him that out there, he had brothers to protect and enemies to kill. If he died here, his goals would mean nothing.

  “Drakey, let’s go,” Ling Dong finally said, using the young drake’s pet name for the first time in a long while. He swung his sword in the narrow arcs the cave allowed, using the sharp end of his blade instead of the flat. After a few routine exercises, he strapped the sword on his back. It was something he did less for practical reasons and more for aesthetics. The imposing manner of a man with a giant sword strapped to his back was far greater than without.

  Darkwing stirred. His limbs trembled as he lifted his large frame off the ground. His red eyes gleamed as he stretched and let out a soft howl. His wing joints crackled as he moved his bladed, scythe-shaped wings. They were meant for flying as much as reaping.