Whilst a certain young girl sat in the tranquil and peaceful Sanctum bemoaning her misfortunes towards the unwilling listener that were the heavens, a rather pot-bellied man lurched into an adjacent room of the Yang Clan’s Plum Blossom Hall.
The middle-aged man paid no heed regarding the original occupant’s wishes, slamming the door open as he leered towards the darkened interior of the wooden room.
“Brother Yang,” Shen Haoren spoke with an even voice, gradual and deceptive of his true thoughts.
“Today, you must give your brother some face. Tell me, why are you embarking on such a path?”
The interior of the dark room remained silent, save for the faint buzzing of three specks of scarlet light circling around the other in a rhythmic, elliptical pattern.
As the fiery sparks of light encroached the upper height of their vertical orbit, their radiance casting an odd hue of light upon the room’s occupant.
The countenance was refined and diligent with an underlying hint of handsomeness, but the middle-aged man could distinctly spot a trace of cold scheming. Accompanied by the hastened whistling of the three sparks, the handsome countenance raised its gaze to greet the intruder.
Shen Haoren and Yang Jian stared at the other in prolonged silence, their lips unwilling to move as their hearts relayed message after unceasing message in silence.
The two cultivators awaited until a final stick of incense sputtered out besides Yang Jian on an ebonwood desk, before Yang Jian parted his lips to speak.
“Old Shen, must I explain myself?”
The voice was heavy and fatigued, but a prideful glare shone through. Hearing the disinterest and exasperation resound firmly in his ears, Shen Haoren released an enormous sigh as he closed the door and planted his body against the wooden structure.
Illuminated in the dark, the pot-bellied man and handsome man shared an unknown glance.
As Yang Jian arose from his relaxed posture to alight another incense stick with one of the three sparks of flame circling around his body, Shen Haoren interjected with a similarly exhausted voice.
“Brother Yang, I know how you feel about this matter.”
The words were meek and suppressed before the silent aura radiating off from the Young Master of the Yang Clan’s body, prompting Shen Haoren to steel his resolve. The middle-aged man clenched his fists underneath his robes, tightening his brow as to retain his courage from dissipating.
“Out of us four brothers, Brother Yang is the oldest by seven years,” the pot-bellied man parted his mouth with a hesitant, reminiscent expression.
“Similarly, out of us four brothers, Brother Yang has faced the problem for at least a decade longer than us.”
“How are we to breach the thin, but impenetrable barrier that stands before us and the Core Formation Realm? We have remained at the peak of the Spirit Building Realm for at least two decades, and yet the eclipse of the boundary has yet to grace its countenance to either of us brothers.”
Yang Jian relinquished his body to its prior, seated lotus position, his arms gently resting against his thighs as he fell into a period of recollecting thought.
The three sparks fluctuated in their speeds of completing their orbit, but the trace of agitation was obvious as ever.
“Indeed… we have gazed upon the horizons of the Spirit Building Realm for far too long,” the handsome man raised his head in assent.
“As members of the upper echelons of the Hundred Clan Coalition, we have no lack of spiritual medicines or ample cultivation or martial arts techniques. Far too many resources, that there should be no hardship on our paths along the heavily resource-intensive and arduous journey of cultivation.”
“And yet, we who are regarded as talented geniuses are incapable of progressing past the final boundary into the next realm, whilst others easily breeze through the tender filament as though it never existed.”
Shen Haoren’s fingers rubbed at a golden coin to calm his nerves, his mind seething with a multitude of thoughts. Reflecting onto the words his Master had once imparted onto him upon their last encounter, the middle-aged man couldn’t help but reveal a wry smile.
“The realm of Body Tempering, Foundation Establishment, and Spirit Building are mere preparatory realms in the journey of cultivation, and does not require any effort on the part of the cultivator,” he echoed with a ghostly voice.
“When traversing from the lesser realms to the upper realms of cultivation, resources matter not, and only the enlightenment of the heart can glimpse upon the method of breaching past Spirit Building.”
“Words of your Master?”
Yang Jian tapped his right thigh with his index finger, his left object palming an unusual, slender object made from steel.
The handsome man ruminated for a few moments, before his lips similarly broke into a rueful smile.
“Indeed, my Master said the exact same words.”
“Then, Brother Yang, why must you enact upon this journey?” Shen Haoren’s eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, his heart teeming with discomfort and anxiety.
“Brother Yang, you must realize that this is not the proper method of achieving enlighten-“
“Brother Shen, I know,” the reply was flat and devoid of anger, as though Yang Jian was not criticizing his own actions but someone else’s.
“If our Masters had noticed that I would stray onto this path, they would wish that they had flayed me since I was a youth. However… I can only become desperate.”
The words were sorrowful and suffused with a no small quantity of regret and resentment, but the expected anger was unable to be found. Shen Haoren hummed in frustration as he rubbed at his hair, an unwilling expression on his countenance.
“Desperate?” the middle-aged man’s large belly heaved with righteous anger.
“You stand at the pinnacle of the Spirit Building Realm, unmatched by any other! You stand at the top of the Yang Clan, where even us three brothers can only flock aside and gawk in awe. You have such blessed circumstances, and yet you call yourself-“
“I am at the pinnacle of the Spirit Building Realm, but so what?” the handsome man released an eerie chuckle.
“Unmatched at the Spirit Building Realm, but the weakest Core Formation Realm can squash me to death with a single breath. An aristocrat of the all-powerful Yang Clan of the Hundred Clan Coalition, but we do not rank within the top twenty clans. My destiny is written as one of glorious blaze and righteous ardor, for I am named Yang Jian.”
“Indeed, it is as you say – I should not become desperate,” Yang Jian mocked himself with a calm and calculating gaze.
“However, having obtained a chance – a chance to breach apart this barrier and traverse into the Core Formation Realm to rewrite my destiny into one not granted by my ancestors but that of my own… how could I not throw myself upon it?”
The Young Master of the Yang Clan lowered his left hand to gently pry away the cloth covering the mysterious object resting on his thigh, his fingers lightly stroking at the cold and smooth surface with a sentimental expression on his countenance.
As Shen Haoren lowered his gaze to glimpse upon the object that had thoroughly captured Yang Jian’s interest, the middle-aged man’s brows couldn’t help but knit.
On that countenance of which he had seen righteousness, passiveness, and an eternal calm – he finally saw a tinge of malevolent insanity grace across those collected eyes, as though the gate towards heaven was directly before his fingertips.
“The young lass that was travelling with you – she is quite literally the travelling boon, ah.”
Yang Jian sighed with exultation and relief, his chest displaying a solid heave of pride and might.
The handsome man’s fingers tapped at the hilts of the pair of objects before his body, and his voice adopted an odd tint.
“Brother Yang, you do know that your actions count as nothing but theft?”
Shen Haoren cleared his throat with an unwilling expression on his countenance.
“Even though I myself have disagreements with that young lass and her circumstances, I would not resort to stealing her objects.”
“Old Shen, why be so rigid as so?”
Yang Jian released a hearty chuckle. The handsome man pushed the pair of butterfly swords towards the middle-aged man, sweeping his wide sleeves to clear the oppressive mood devouring at the sanity of the room.
“Old Shen must clearly be aware of the potential hidden within these blades. And to be clear – we of the Yang Clan spent so much time and effort rescuing that lass from the assassination attempt a few weeks ago, not to mention continuing to house her even after those subsequent massacres caused by her hand.”
“Then she and the expert protecting her life in the shadows would be the one to owe a favor,” the middle-aged man persisted with cold beads of sweat dripping from his brow.
“Brother Yang, you shouldn’t collect the favor without even consulting the lass about it.”
Yang Jian’s lips curved into a smirk as his finger reached out to tap onto the blade.
As the index finger lightly contacted the steel blades of the twin butterfly swords, his lofty voice struck like hammers onto Shan Haoren’s willpower.
“Brother Shen, to us practitioners of the cultivating path – what do the whims of a mortal have to do with us? Furthermore, the power hidden within this pair of artefacts can instantly allow all four of us to breakthrough our deficits and change our destiny – just how can we pass that up!?”
