The spring breeze caressed his pale skin, carrying the smell of roasted chestnuts and incense smoke from a hundred lit braziers far below.
Jin Mu turned towards the window, lowering his gaze on the setting sun. Something loosened behind his eyes, the pull of a memory he hadn't meant to surface.
'I wish he were here.'
The crimson rays covered the lands like silk. The vibrant city of Hanjin seemed to embrace the sunset.
The streets did not run in grids like the northern capitals. They bent around hills and old temple walls and the memory of waterways that had been filled in three dynasties ago.
Tonight, every one of those streets was burning.
Lanterns had been hung from every available surface, from doorframes and merchant stalls to the outstretched arms of wooden Buddha statues and from the belts of the old women who waddled between food carts, swinging them like they were simply part of their wardrobe.
The Festival of the Twin Moons came once every twelve years.
A troupe of drummers rounded the corner of the main boulevard, and even from this height, the percussion moved through the stone of the pagoda and into his bones. Around them, children in red and gold sashes darted like startled fish, waving long silk ribbons that caught the lantern light and turned to living flame.
Somewhere to the east, a troupe of acrobats had erected a temporary stage. He could not see them clearly from here, just the crowd they had drawn, a dark mass pressed together at the edges of the square, occasionally erupting in a sound that rolled upward even over the drums.
The city of Hanjin sat at the crossroads of three of the murim world's most contested trade routes. Three great sects claimed influence over its walls. Several guilds operated openly within them, some operating openly, others not.
It was a city where a wrong word in the wrong teahouse could earn you three enemies before morning.
He smiled wistfully, feeling his thoughts growing stagnant.
'I'm unsure whether I have the right to say that. After all, I'm the one who brought all these people here.'
A subdued, grumbling voice pulled his attention.
"It's too soon…"
He looked at Gyeom Seo, his oldest friend and, by a cruel irony of history, the man who now sat in the chair Jin had built. The seat of the Azure Cloud Sect's leader.
Staring back at Jin, Seo downed another cup of wine. The passage of time showed itself clearly in the thin contours marking his face. He knew how hard it was for a man of Seo's caliber to get drunk, yet his friend had somehow managed to find a wine that could tempt even masters who had surpassed the heavens.
'I can't blame Seo either. It's my fault after all.'
Beside Seo sat a woman who could only be addressed as a martial goddess. Her visage seemed as if it were carved out of stone by a master artisan, raven strands of hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She carried herself like a warlock born in the midst of war, her arm marred with scars of her past.
She was the matriarch of the Hwa Clan, Hwa Rin.
Meanwhile, her gaze was locked on the gourd of wine Seo had brought. It had a bewitching pattern etched on it, reminding her of the great Yama rivers that flowed seamlessly between the towering mountain ranges in the north.
She deeply exhaled.
"Leave it, Seo. This isn't the first time he's leaving us behind."
Despite her harsh words, she smiled faintly.
A hoarse voice came from his right.
"What's with you mongrels? It would be another thing if he were on his deathbed."
Beside him sat one of the strongest warriors that he had ever fought. The man's figure was delicate, yet the air he possessed was even more formidable than Jin's.
His name was Kang Muyeon. His harsh attitude reminded him that he was the Lord of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
He drew on the pipe in his hand and released the smoke gracefully. Jin never understood why he was so fond of tobacco, since it barely affected him.
Rin turned her head to the window.
"Who would have thought?"
Jin asked accordingly, "What?"
Before she could answer, Seo grumbled angrily.
"That you'd be the first to transcend! I thought that brute there would be the only one to reach the heavens among us. Yet here you are, proving us all wrong."
Muyeon retorted, his pipe breaking in half as a result.
"If that's your way of asking me to send you off first, just say so. I'll be more than glad to end you with my own two hands."
Their bickering continued. Rin was concerned, but as time passed, she thought it better not to intervene.
Looking at the three, it finally hit him.
That he had achieved a lot more than he could ever have wished for.
His lifelong dream to unite the central plains was finally over. He had gone through countless hardships and horrendous situations to reach here. He had taken just as many regretful decisions, sometimes costing him things he couldn't sacrifice.
After decades of hardship, he managed to bring the entirety of the central plains under one banner.
Under his banner, the banner of the Grand Harmony Alliance.
Somewhere along the way, people started giving him unpleasant epithets like "The Celestial Arbiter." As much as he hated it, he knew it was a burden he had to carry.
For him, the best part of it all was that he couldn't have accomplished any of it without the comrades who were now sitting with him.
All this time, they were the ones keeping him grounded. He couldn't imagine a life without them.
'I'm so happy that I could die.'
However, he couldn't.
As he walked the path of ascension, his soul outgrew his body. He could sense his senses expanding, an ecstatic yet horrifying feeling. His being itself had become so vast that his body couldn't handle it any longer.
He was going to ascend to the realm of a god.
He couldn't help the feeling that settled in alongside the pride. Regret that he couldn't die alongside his comrades on the battlefield. Or perhaps on a mountain as they gazed at the rising sun.
Alas, life wasn't as forgiving as that.
The broken pipe slipped from Muyeon's fingers. By the time it struck the floor, everyone was already looking at him.
Muyeon's eyes fell on Jin's hand.
Jin slowly lifted his hand. His body was disintegrating into tiny particles filled with light. Most of his fingers were gone; only the thumb remained. Soon, it disappeared as well.
With each passing second, he felt his sight growing dimmer. His other hand, which was holding the wine cup, now passed right through it.
Rin tightened her jaw as she saw the billowing particles, flowing upward with the wind. Her mouth was agape, as if she wanted to say something.
Jin's heart ached as he glanced at her helpless expression.
"Fret not, Rin. You were the reason I was able to set out on this journey. I'm certain that you'll make a fine alliance leader."
Rin wanted to say something, anything. Steeling herself, she bowed slightly and faced him again.
"I hope I can live up to your expectations… Alliance leader."
He turned to Seo, his hand completely disintegrated by now.
Seo looked back at him. He was unsure what to say. No matter what he said, it would not be enough.
He had been there before Jin had a name worth knowing. Before the sects, before the Alliance, back when he was just the orphaned heir of a sect that had burned itself to ash.
He was a precious friend through life and death.
Now he was leaving the same friend behind. No amount of words could console Seo.
Seo spoke instead, noticing Jin's hesitation.
"What are you thinking about for so long, you idiot! You don't have to say something meaningful or even something that makes sense. Just say something… anything."
Jin spoke, his lips trembling.
"Seo… even if an eternity passes and I never gain consciousness again, I'll never forget the time we've spent together. I'm truly grateful that you stood by my side all this time."
He grimaced as he talked.
"I hope that if we ever meet in another life, I'll get the chance to be your friend again."
Seo refused to look away as he slowly disappeared.
By the time he looked at Muyeon, only his torso and head remained.
Muyeon spoke, his voice harsher than before.
"No need to say anything. I followed you because you were worthy. You don't owe me anything. Instead, promise me a single thing."
He clenched his fist. The veins in his arm bulged as an azure energy flowed through them. It was Jin's first time seeing it, but he understood what Muyeon was doing.
The qi revolved around his hand and seeped into his fist. Muyeon's arm began to shake, his hand struggling even more.
When he opened his hand, an orb of dense, swirling energy rested in his hand. Unlike Jin's own qi, it was a much more intricate and deep energy, filled with Muyeon's feelings as well as his will and commitment. Deep inside rested a drop of his soul, keeping the orb intact while empowering it at the same time.
The ball of qi flew upward and then attached itself to Jin.
'Ugh.'
Immediately, his body, which had grown numb, started to feel again. His mind, which had slowed after becoming so vast, began to think again, constantly churning with intensity.
Everything felt surreal.
Muyeon wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.
"I just gave you some of my vital qi. That should help you anchor your feelings and thoughts to your soul better. But don't depend on it, as it will only clash with your own vital qi if you force it further than what it should be."
Jin wanted to thank him, but Muyeon stopped him.
"Do not lose yourself, Mu Jin. You're the Grand Harmony Alliance's leader and the mortal destined to become a god. Do not let anything stop you from reaching your destination. Do not forget yourself and where you come from."
His eyes weighed down on Jin.
"Once you lose yourself, it'll all be over in no time. You'll simply become a vast sea of qi that doesn't have a consciousness of its own."
Clicking his tongue, he looked aside.
"Good heavens, if you end up dying instead of surpassing the heavens, I'll descend to hell just to kill you once again… Go now; your time has come."
Jin realized that most of his body was gone now, with only an ethereal outline visible.
Looking at his comrades one last time, he felt relieved at last. The regret he had in his heart was nowhere to be sensed.
"Comrades—my friends—I… I'm glad it was you three." He had no more words after that. Perhaps no more breath to carry them. He was simply gone.
The fine particles of light drifted past them and scattered outside the window.
Despite being reduced to nothing, he could see the entirety of Hanjin City. The sun had set, and twin moons were rising to take its place.
As he flew above them, countless lanterns moved alongside him. The sky was set ablaze with scarlet.
For a while, he could still feel it—the cold of the night air, the warmth of light off ten thousand lanterns, and the faint percussion still moving through whatever remained of him. He passed through the cloud. He passed through something that was not a cloud. The space around him stopped behaving like space.
Speed became irrelevant. Direction became irrelevant.
Yet, he persisted. He flew through them all… until there was nothing left.
He had questions at first. Many of them arrived in the orderly way that thoughts had always arrived for him: assessed, catalogued, and set aside for later. But later it lost its meaning. The questions were still there. He simply found he cared about them less. Then less than that.
At some point, he became aware that he could no longer feel the cold. He couldn't determine when that had happened. The awareness of its absence was itself fading.
He thought, "I should be frightened."
He noticed he wasn't.
Something left him. Then something else. He tried to account for what remained and found the accounting itself was the next thing to go.
There was a horizon, or the suggestion of one, in every direction and none. The abyss did not press against him. It simply continued.
He rested in it.
He did not know for how long because he had forgotten what "long" meant.
*****
Something moved.
He became aware of it the way a sleeper becomes aware of sound before waking: the knowledge arriving before the faculty to process it.
He opened his eyes.
A light. Small, unhurried, neither asking for his attention nor indifferent to it. It simply was.
He had spent decades learning to read qi, the texture of it, the intent behind it, the particular signature of a soul expressed through its cultivation. He had felt the qi of emperors and hermits, of men dying and men transcending.
This was nothing like any of that.
Whatever burned inside that light was not qi the way he understood it. It was older, or stranger, or simply other. And underneath was a soul. Small. Exhausted… Dying.
The words came gradually, assembling themselves somewhere between his lost senses and whatever remained of his mind.
Please.
I beg you.
Save me.