Cultivation is Creation

The gentle notes of the guqin floated through the air as Jiaxin's fingers danced across the strings. She sat with perfect posture, her long black hair fastened with a simple wooden pin, face serene in concentration.

As she played, I found myself wondering about paths not taken.

What if Jiaxin had been born with stronger spiritual sensitivity? What if, instead of remaining in this village, she'd been discovered by a wandering cultivator and taken to a sect to develop her talents?

Our paths might have crossed differently—perhaps as fellow disciples rather than childhood acquaintances. We might have practiced together, shared cultivation insights, faced trials side by side. Maybe even...

I shook my head slightly.

Such speculation was pointless.

The reality was that our paths had already diverged irrevocably.

She would likely marry a merchant or skilled craftsman, live a normal mortal life, while I continued climbing the treacherous ladder of cultivation. Even if I visited occasionally, I would remain fundamentally separate from her world—aging more slowly, experiencing things beyond mortal comprehension, eventually becoming someone or something she could no longer truly understand.

But when her song reached its crescendo, Jiaxin looked up briefly, catching my eye with a small smile that held no cultivation technique but still carried a power all its own. In that moment, the boundary between reality and my idle musings felt unusually thin.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, accepting the cup he offered.

"You get a certain look," he said, taking a sip from his own cup. "Like you're seeing beyond what's in front of you. It's a common trait among formation specialists—always looking for patterns, connections."

I smiled at that.

Formation specialists did tend to see the world differently, always looking for how energies connected and flowed. It was a convenient explanation for my occasional moments of otherworldly perspective.

"I suppose I'm just savoring the moment," I replied. "It's not often we get to experience peace like this."

Liu Chang nodded, his gaze sweeping over the festivities. "True enough. Most of our missions end with a quick departure, not celebrations." He paused, then added, "Your village has been quite generous in their hospitality."

"They're good people," I said simply.

"And they're proud of you. That speech earlier—it resonated with them. With all of us, actually."

I felt a flush of embarrassment. "I just spoke what came to mind."

"Sometimes those are the words that matter most." He finished his wine and set the cup down on a nearby table. "The team will be leaving tomorrow afternoon. I've already informed the others."

The news was expected but still brought a pang of sadness. "So soon?"

"We've been away from the sect longer than planned already. The others will soon get restless, better to leave before that happens." He glanced at me. "You're welcome to stay an extra day or two, if you wish.”

The offer was tempting. A few more days with my parents, helping them prepare for their potential move to Three Rivers Village... but I knew better than to separate from the team unnecessarily. Not to mention, I had another mission to complete before I could return to the sect,

"Thank you for the consideration, but I'll leave with everyone else," I said. "I've had good time with my family. More than I expected, honestly."

Liu Chang nodded, seeming pleased with my decision. "We'll gather at the elder's house at midday, then."

As we stood in comfortable silence, the musicians had shifted to a slower melody now, one of those traditional village tunes that somehow managed to sound both melancholy and hopeful at the same time.

Several couples had moved to the center of the square for dancing, and among them were my parents. There was something mesmerizing about watching them together—the way they anticipated each other's movements, how they communicated through the subtlest glances and smiles.

"Your parents are quite charming," Azure's voice commented in my mind. "Particularly in how they interact with each other."

"They've been together over twenty years," I replied mentally. "An eternity by mortal standards."

"And yet a mere blink to a true immortal," he mused. "Strange, isn't it? The different perceptions of time between mortals and cultivators."

It was something I'd thought about often since arriving in this world. In my previous life, living to ninety would have been considered a good run. Here, even a mediocre Stellar Realm cultivator could expect a few hundred years minimum. Reach the Life Realm realm, and centuries became millennia.

And if one reached true immortality? Time itself would become almost meaningless.

"Makes you wonder what's worth pursuing," I murmured. "Live a short, simple life filled with these moments? Or stretch existence across eons, potentially losing touch with what makes these fleeting joys meaningful?"

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"A philosophical question as old as cultivation itself," Azure replied. "Though I note you've already made your choice."

I smiled slightly. "Hard to un-choose once you've started down the path. Besides, who says I can't have both? Cultivate to immortality and still remember how to dance beneath lantern light."

"An admirable goal, if rarely achieved."

“Your parents are calling you,” Liu Chang’s voice interrupted our conversation, I looked over to the village square where Mother was waving at me. "Ah, looks like the lanterns are about to be lit. You should join them.”

I nodded and then made my way through the crowd to where Mother had secured a spot with a clear view of the night sky. As I settled beside her, she linked her arm through Father's, her other hand resting protectively over her belly where my future sibling grew.

"There you are," she smiled. "I was beginning to think you'd miss it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I assured her.

As if on cue, the village chief stepped onto the central platform, raising his hands for attention. The crowd gradually quieted, conversations fading to whispers and then silence.

"Friends and neighbors," Elder Wu began, "tonight we celebrate not just our deliverance from danger, but the bonds between our village and the cultivation world. For generations, the great sects have stood as bulwarks against the threats that lurk beyond civilization's boundaries. Tonight, we've been honored to host these brave cultivators who risked their lives to protect our homes and families."

He gestured toward where the cultivators stood gathered near the edge of the square. Liu Chang and Yan Li nodded respectfully, while Su Yue and the others maintained dignified expressions.

"Now, as is our tradition, we will light lanterns to symbolize our gratitude to the heavens and to these honored guests." The chief clapped his hands, and a group of children came forward, each carrying an unlit sky lantern made of thin paper stretched over bamboo frames.

"Each family will release a lantern," the chief explained, "carrying their prayers and thanks into the night sky."

Father stepped forward to accept a lantern for our family. As tradition dictated, he held it while Mother lit the small fuel pad at its base. The paper began to glow from within, a warm golden light that seemed to capture the essence of hearth and home.

"Would you like to make the wish this year?" Father asked, offering me the lantern.

I hesitated, then nodded, accepting the delicate construction. The heat from the flame warmed my fingers as I closed my eyes briefly, thinking of what to wish for. In this world of spiritual energy and immortal cultivation, wishes weren't just symbolic gestures—intention had power.

“Let them be safe,” I thought. “Let them live long enough to see their second child grow. Let them find peace and prosperity away from the dangers that follow cultivators like me.”

With that thought held firmly in mind, I gently released the lantern. It wobbled for a moment, then caught an updraft and began to rise, joining dozens of others that were already floating upward, creating a river of light against the dark canvas of the night sky.

We watched in silence as the lanterns climbed higher, some drifting apart, others clustering together as if drawn by invisible bonds. It was a strangely moving sight—these fragile vessels of paper and bamboo, defying gravity through nothing more than heated air and human hopes.

"Pretty, aren’t they?" Mother whispered, leaning against Father's shoulder. Her face glowed in the reflected light of the lanterns, making her look younger somehow, more like the woman from Ke Yin's earliest memories.

"Beautiful," I agreed, though I wasn't entirely looking at the lanterns anymore.

For just this moment, I let myself fully inhabit the present.

Not worrying about my cultivation path, or sect politics, or the looming threats of a world where power determined everything. Just a young man watching the night sky with his parents in a village celebrating its continued existence.

But eventually like all good things, it came to an end.

Families with young children began to drift homeward, the excitement of the day finally overpowering youthful energy.

"We should head back too," Father suggested, noticing Mother trying to stifle a yawn. "It's been a long day for everyone."

Mother started to protest but relented when he gently patted her belly. "Yes, I suppose the little one needs rest. But you don't have to come yet, Yin. Stay and enjoy the celebration."

"I'll walk with you," I insisted. "I could use some quiet after all this excitement."

The truth was, I'd been feeling an increasing urge to check on the strange blood statue in my inner world. Ever since our battle with Ke Jun, there had been a subtle pressure at the edge of my awareness—not quite a threat, but a presence that demanded attention.

As we turned to leave, I spotted Jiaxin across the square, standing with her fellow musicians. Our eyes met briefly, and she offered a small smile and a wave. I returned the gesture, hoping she understood that in another life, another world, things might have been different.