The Fourth Wall - Chapter 3 preview

Elder Yang Fa Yuan moved carefully, feeling the immense strength of the formation and the searing heat of the flame she wielded in her hand. To utilize all this, she had to place her spiritual sense and aura in the center, guide the flow through her and around; wielding it all with the gentlest of touches. To do what needed to be done, to utilize the Soul Severing and Purifying Flame Formation to heal Wu Ying, she must balance both destruction and creation, splitting Wu Ying's immortal soul and body apart before binding it together once again.

As she worked, her lips moved, a soft chant to empower the formation, to give it form. 

"Dao Sheng Yi,"

From the Dao, comes one. All things come from the Dao, and all things are part of it. The Dao when it began was formless, only gaining form after an indeterminate time.

"Yi Sheng Er,"

From that one, comes two - the duality of Yin and Yang, Man and Woman. From the beginning, the perfect entirety of the Dao, the world splits into the forces that would shape it.

Fa Yuan delved into Wu Ying's body, plucking at the edges of damaged meridians and splintered form. In her spiritual sense, she saw the portions of the spirit that were disconnected or connected badly to the immortal body. She wielded the flame like a scalpel, parting these ill-formed bindings, the hasty conjoining of soul and body where she sensed damage. For now, she did not heal, held back the form's natural inclination to join together as she pulled the pair apart.

In the real world, soul and body parted, a ghostly replica of Wu Ying floating over broken body, connected by thick threads that shone with bright light unlike the twisted or knotted or darkened and ill-formed shapes in others. That floating shape, it was Wu Ying as he saw him, his immortal soul. Not nude, but wearing simple green robes as he had once clothed himself; his body strong, his skin lightly tanned. Not imperious like the images of the immortals were, but more human, baser.

A farmer turned cultivator turned immortal, still traveling that same path.

Near the entrance, Yang Mu froze. Her eyes widened, turning from the group and Wu Ying to the outside. She dashed outwards, leaving the group alone. Fa Yuan sensed a disturbance, other presences outside; but she could not make a move. None of them could, not here, not now.

"Er Sheng San,"

From two comes three, Yin and Yang mix to become chi; that vital substance that they all controlled and utilized. Or perhaps, as others believed it to be, Yin and Yang creates heaven, hell and earth. Or more broadly, man and woman together create a third, the child. This line was more open to interpretation, though the eventual splitting of the Dao was never contested.

In Wu Ying's case, she would eventually have to help him form a third; a binding of the pair of soul and body. That was how immortals were, not soul or form alone but a third, a neutral or mean formation of it all. Combined together, it was the most stable of forms, the natural progression of having a separation.

In many ways, it was the beginning of the return to the Dao.

Even as she surgically removed the bad bindings and held at bay the joining, she could see Wu Ying's body and soul arching in agony. They were not meant to be separated like this, thus the forced joining. When soul cultivators reached this stage, they refined the bindings over a period of time. For body cultivators, with the soul released, it was similar; though the soul was meant to slip within without issue. 

It was only Wu Ying’s own internal battle that kept them separated. Until he found a way to corral his mind, until he found a way to set aside his animosity, he would lie broken. All they could do was temporarily fix this and perhaps, relieve the pain.

"San Sheng Wan Wu." (1)

The last words of the start of the poem slipped from her mouth, the words resounding in the air, seeming to shake the very foundations of the room within.

From three comes the ten thousand things. Again, another line of various interpretations. The simplest, that from the mixture of yin, yang and mean chi - the balanced mixture of Yin and Yang - came all under creation. Fa Yuan had always preferred that, though others preferred a more abstract interpretation. Taking into account how, when once began categorizing and dividing the world, all things had to be divided further, the very act of categorization being a form of creation as well. Others leaned towards a cruder interpretation, that from the family of three comes humanity and from there, the creation of villages, settlements, cities and civilisation itself. 

In Wu Ying's case, from the Dao came the Yin and Yang and mean chi. And now, hovering between it all; were all the myriad paths that made up the journey to the Dao again. When he reformed his body, he would have to find a new pathway; one that strode the line between his need for freedom, for his rebellion against the strictures of the heavens and their uncaring gaze upon the world below and the seven winds that blew through the air.

Now, he stood at the balance point, Fa Yuan aiding him hover here as slowly, slowly; the body reformed. They could only begin the pathway, create a barrier between soul and body and keep him stabilized; if significantly weaker, till he found his dao. It was she could do, all they could do, till he found his way.

And even then, Wu Ying would have to push through the agony as soul and body were torn asunder in the here and now.

***

Wu Ying drifted in and out of consciousness, his body and soul wracked with agony. Only unconsciousness offered any degree of peace, even as the drifting chi of the heavens and hells rippled through him, sticking in his meridians, forcing a joining only to be torn apart. 

When they began the ceremony, the flames that Tou He conjured hurt; but in a good way. Like a hot bath that one had just stepped into, the body prickled and flinched; but it soon gave way to a reassuring and relaxing warmth. It burnt away the detritus of his cultivation, purifying the body to begin the process of healing.

When Fa Yuan, controlling the scalpel of flame pushed past his disrupted aura; he almost pushed back. He did, instinctively, knowing how dangerous it was to allow another so deep past one's defenses. It was only his trust in her, in Tou He and the twin sages and Yang Mu that allowed him to release his grip on his defenses.

When the first cut came, he screamed in his mind and soul. His throat was too dry, his body too exhausted to do more than twitch and jerk a little at the cutting; but he felt it nonetheless. A searing blade that parted his soul from his body, a gentle and inexorable pressure from the twin immortal souls that pulled him apart. Like taking hold of ones own skin and peeling it away from the bone, except deeper within and even more intrinsic to self.

Wu Ying no longer had a mortal soul, the mortal portions already consumed and subsumed by the immortal portions. If his immortal soul was removed from the body, if the bindings that held him to this plain were parted entirely; he would drift away. Perhaps Zhong Kui would capture him, drag him to hell and remove his immortality.

Perhaps he would drift, forevermore, insubstantial and a ghost till someone - or something - destroyed him in truth. For immortality only meant a lack of aging, a freedom from the mortal ailments and mortal diseases. Not unending eternity. That was the province of the Dao itself. Or perhaps, Buddha; though the theological distinction was lost to Wu Ying at times.

It was an ending that Wu Ying would almost accept, if the agony of his existence could end at this time.

Almost.

He controlled the thrashing in his soul and body as best he could, diminished the movement such that his allies might not struggle as much. He brought with him all the years of experience, all the willpower and training and suffering he had experienced - medicinal baths that seared skin and flesh and leached into bones to do the same, repeated battles where he was driven nearly to death, the injuries afterwards and multiple tribulations - and set it against his instinctive reactions.

In so doing, he succeeded.

When he was peeled apart, when soul and body were taken to different elevations; for a moment he nearly lost himself. Though he had held at bay madness, held himself true and firm as the waves of insanity upon the rock of self; as he balanced on the precipice as agony raced through him with each beat of the heart and flicker of flame; the splitting of himself was nearly his undoing.

For he saw the world through both eyes, soul and body; saw a splintered world of chi and physicality. Breathed in the ash and heat of the flames, felt the burning deep within and right alongside his soul. For a moment, he was both able to see more clearly than ever - the minute grains of wood in the ceiling above and the flow of chi in the world around him, the imprint of combating daos. It was too much, for any one person to accept.

He fell, and if not for the spiritual steadying hand of Fa Yuan, he might never have emerged from the bout of insanity. Tired, in pain and broken; the person that would emerge would be far different from who he was. As it was, he gripped tight to the steadying hand, shut down and ignored the myriad sensations and inputs that arrived.

Found his balance, hovering between the sluices of information that threatened to consume him. Though he stretched downward, desiring to connect again, he knew better than to force it. Again and again, Fa Yuan cut, severing and excising broken connections, scarred and festering portions of soul and body.

Each movement was a weakening, of himself and his cultivation. He diminished, each time she struck, severing him. The winds howled, not just in the room but outside as well. Some sought to destroy the formation and the people who dared injure their brother, others sought to free him and his soul, to have him join them fully. And then, of course, were the winds that sought a joining no matter, to see him become whole for this separation was anathema to them. 

Formation flags glowed and shuddered, pressured by wind chi of all forms. More than that, other forms of chi, flame and metal and earth and water battered it, protective formations around the inn coming to life. A battle raged outside, as fierce as the one within Wu Ying's soul; but its participant was alone unlike him.

A portion of Wu Ying understood what was to happen. It had been explained to him, over and over again over the intervening months as he recovered as best he could and then deteriorated. How they would excise the damaged portions, how they would build a barrier such that he could exist; for a time, without merging. 

However, it had been stressed, over and over again that he had to find a balance within himself. A place of acceptance; for the world that was and the dictates of heaven and his own nature; a way to settle matters within his mind and the needs of his soul and the dao that had been integrated into his wind body.

The act of excising the damaged portions weakened his immortal body and soul; but in that weakening, perhaps he could a balance point. A way for them to co-exist; at least for a time. Before he found a final solution.

He knew that, and as Fa Yuan gripped his arms metaphorically, as soul and body stood seperated; Wu Ying doved into his mind and the soul and body; in the dao all around. He searched, seeking some form of co-existence.

For if he did not, eventually; he would perish.

Footnote:

1 -  This is from the 42nd chapter of the Tao Teh Ching and is only the beginning of the chapter itself. I’m using the pinyin in here rather than a translation because translations of the Tao Teh Ching are so subjective, as I hoped I illustrated in some small part. The direct translations are even worse. ‘Dao becomes one, one becomes two, two becomes three, three becomes ten thousand things’ is the literal.