Hao got lost for a moment in the Immortals’ feelings. He too could have fallen to an eternal sleep. It had been a long time since he rested. Stranger, he felt no hesitation from the Immortal towards his own death.

  The images became more visceral. Hao could feel each action with his fingers—memories still writhing. His hands were inside the beast, popping apart muscle and sinew. As the feelings became thicker, the images and words themselves blurred and faded, he could barely see them as faces smeared. Eel-like memories coming from the Trial pass writhing even harder than before.

  The Immortal tore the beast apart, giving the corpse and core to the tree to speed up its recovery.

  In silence, he waited for death, and the only thing he could do was stare up. The fruit, like the sun, filled his vision.

  “What could I have seen if I had eaten that fruit?”

  His eyes trailed down the branches; he felt like a fool laughing at himself. In truth, he was happy with this outcome. Never did he expect to marry a tree spirit that possessed a demonic nature. That was an adventure, quite a journey in itself. Still, he wondered: What would the World look like if I had the power from eating the fruit? What heights would I reach?

  Before he closed his eyes, he saw a branch shrivel. Then a second. He examined the tree the best he could, crawling the tiger he had killed. The scratches and scuffs were healing rapidly, but the low branches were falling off.

  The branch holding the fruit was being drained of its energy.

  “Stop, don’t do this to yourself. Anything but that branch…” A croaking whisper came from his voice.

  He reached up, and it took the last of his Spirit Qi, World Energy, running from him to reach the fruit. He ripped it from its stem.

  In his final act of life, he placed the fruit in his jaws and bit down. It healed him, but it was far from capable of saving his life. It could if he let it, but not with what he intended.

  He took the seed in his hand, reaching into his own chest, digging through bone, muscle, and flesh. His hand cracked, pushed, and tore all in his way till he found his heart.

  Deep within the folds of his heart, he placed the seed. And the seed showed its greed for consumption. In a blink, it began drinking his Qi and vitality. But instead of dying, he grew miraculously stronger. And so did the Seed.

  The tree woke shortly after, the Immortal before her wearing a big smile. But there was an itch on her body, something was missing. She knew it from the golden skin glowing in her lover’s hand.

  In Disbelief, she checked anyway. When she saw part of her gone, she let out a sorrowful scream. Between the two, tree and immortal, there was a streak of emotion.

  The man was preparing to speak, to explain himself and the situation, but his mouth hung open, his jaw slacked open. A root lifted from the ground and driven through his head before a sound was made.

  Many years passed, and the tree, in her sorrow, slowly ate the man, her roots slowly growing around his bones. Her trunk grew around him in an embrace. She tried again, senseless and fruitless, to form another seed.

  The largest of her roots was careful about rummaging his mind, taking his memories and desires; she needed a reason for her betrayal.

  Inside his mind, she found the images of his life, until she found images of herself. Only bringing her more grief and sorrow. “If so, why did you betray me?” She kept his head separate and continued to rummage through his mind.

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  Time slipped away, and all that remained of him was yellow bones and a heart of red wood, still beating.

  In between slumbers, she took notice of the heart, radiating abundant Yang Energy. It did not take much thought to remember the seed she grew. At long last, she found more than what she wanted in his mind. What she found drove her from sorrow to madness.

  She wrapped the heart in what branches she had still remained and in silence gave what she had to let it grow. The Tree Demon pulled in the yellow bones. She became one with them and hoped the soul of the Immortal they belonged to was whole.

  The last of her life was burned away, she pushed it into the bones and the heart. But the result was not as she wanted. The bones remained yellow, if anything shining brighter, drinking down every she gave to them. The seed drank the last of her life just as it had done the Immortal.

  The heart changed from wood of red to a brown, shriving and growing dry. In that state, it started to crack. From the wooden shell, three leaves cracked.

  One of them was the original yang seed; if not for the energy coming from it, it would seem insignificant. The size of an acorn, brown. It fell to the ground, never sprouting.

  The other two, far smaller, were carried by the wind before they touched the ground. One shone a yellow, the other purple. They floated to the opposite ends of the valley, just at the edges of the forest that opposed them. They sprouted far from each other to feed the seed in the center. The tree petrified over eons, and mountains grew around them.

  Sorrow absorbed Yang energy to bolster Yin. Joy did the opposite, landing on the Yin side to bolster Yang.

  The last thing Hao saw before shaking himself from the memory was mountains growing. And when he opened his eyes to snaking lightning, those mountains were at his side.

  The memories still writhed in his fingers, they wanted to touch his core, his mind to devour him. For what purpose, he did not know why, but he refused to let them leave or go further.

  The tale and the dreams faded and came back over and over until he thought of a possible solution. Dong Lingli, during a meal, once mentioned sword cultivators that could cut without a blade. Such a thing he could not manifest outside his body. But if it was inside him. A draw on pure will, so to say, as that was the only way Hao could think to describe it.

  Hao let the World Energy, weak as it was, flow through his body. He got it burning hot, remembering the noon sun. Then, thin as it could be, he remembered Li Tuzai, the tip of the butcher’s strange sword.

  He moved it as fast as he could. The World Energy pounding the edges of his Qi channels made his body burn and head ache, not that it didn’t already, it was just getting worse. The World Energy passed his mind, his core, his heart, the place he held the writhing tendrils of the memory that came from the Trial pass.

  The Pass floated normally inside the Spirit-Holding bag, unchanged. Yet with the power of his mind—his soul—he was using to hold down the eels, he could feel them go limp.

  Hao sighed, but the pressure on his shoulder didn’t lessen in the slightest. “Well, that solves one problem. Now, there is the real one to solve. If both of them died, and the seed never grew, then I can’t grow a mind like its mother. So. Who the hell passed on this story…”

  “Brother Hao!? I can’t hear you out there! The rain is too loud inside the tent!”

  Dong Lingli called from inside. He found many things to busy himself with while Hao was in the trial pass, but now that was done. But it was a shame.

  Hao entered the tent, shaking himself of water, careful not to soak Lingli’s tent or contraptions. He took some gray dust from the stones in his bag and rubbed it through his hair. It would not help much in the rain, but it would hide him enough until he got outside the camp. Then night would fall, and he could join the camp at the base of another mountain.

  Still, it really was a shame to leave this tent behind. “Brother Lingli, I will be leaving soon.”

  Dong Lingli looked up, “Right now, what about the trial…”

  “Not immediately. As for the trial, I suggest Brother Lingli avoid it, I hope I can do the same. But I am tempted.” Hao spoke, turning to wash his hands of the leftover dust in the rain just outside the tent’s flap.

  Lingli prodded the fire that he stopped at noon and started once midday passed. “Brother Hao. You do not need to worry and don’t think of me as a coward, but only strong ones have entered that trial. I know my limits. I’ll gather my wealth and find a nice place to hide until we can return to our sects.”

  “Shall we share one more meal before I go, then?” Hao asked, listening to all the voices outside, just as well as the voice of his friend a few steps away.

  “Haha, just one more before the war?” Lingli teased, but his jest was only half a joke. If a battle broke out, they wore different robes, even if they were there for themselves and not their sects.