The sun had not yet risen in all its glory over Plain City; the horizon was draped in a balanced blend of crimson and purple. Far from the city walls, at a point where the parched lands ended and rocky hills began, Ursul walked with heavy steps. He was climbing the hill step by step. His clown outfit fluttered in the cool morning breeze, the small bells at the ends of the costume ringing with a metallic, vague joy at every stumble. With a nearly empty liquor bottle in his hand, he murmured to himself while leaking his chaotic and unstable aura into the ground.
He appeared happy. The smile on his face must have expressed this; he swayed and hummed songs. Yet, within this happiness, there was a dark side—perhaps from the tears in his costume, or perhaps from the blood on his face and outfit.
The road ended beneath a large, shadowed tree. This tree was a lonely giant with deep roots, standing there like a mistake in the dry and lifeless nature of Plain City. Perhaps it had broken away from the distant Red Road Forest on the other side of the city, or it could have been one of the region's native trees. Very few saplings could truly survive in these waterless lands, and those that did were the strong ones—those truly capable of reaching the sky.
Ursul paused for a moment before the tree. His eyes drifted to the small, neglected cemetery right beside it. There was neither sadness nor anger in his gaze; a slight smile, wrapped in a terrifying darkness, enveloped the young man. His makeup was running from the corners of his mouth, but something was also trickling from his lips. It was impossible to tell if it was paint or blood. After standing like that for a while, he collapsed where he was, leaning his back against the tree trunk as if his knees had suddenly given way. The dull thud as he landed on his backside broke the silence of the morning.
The landscape stretching before him offered the awakening of Plain City. The auction must have begun by now. Ursul felt himself sober up gradually, and he did not like it at all. As the first rays of the sun hit the city walls, Ursul took a large gulp from his bottle. Then, the bottle fell from his hand; not a single drop of liquor remained. Following the death of the Drunken Sage, the prices of liquors produced for Sages in the Forgotten Kingdom had increased significantly. Wuma was a high-level liquor producer, and the money Ursul had after the price hikes was only enough for this last bottle.
The smile on his face cracked slightly. Finally, he turned his gaze toward the mound of earth he knew to be his father's grave.
"You know, father," he said in a muffled voice. Although he had laughed much after his father's death, he rarely spoke. "Life didn't go as badly as you thought." When Ursul began to speak, his muffled voice came alive as if he were delivering a monologue on stage. He began to tell his father the story of the magnificent life he never had. He spoke of being a very successful actor and how thousands of people filling the halls gave him standing ovations. "I have a beautiful house," he continued. "My children run around in the garden. You would be happy to hear their names. Moreover, I reached the Sage realm; you know I'm only in my thirties. Reaching this realm means I have a great future... I have friends, loyal and powerful companions. We achieved many successes together in the army... they saved my life... many times...".
As he spoke, the clown makeup on his face took on a more tragic state under the rising sun. He told these lies at great length. He spoke with such passion that perhaps, at that moment, even he believed the story. The emotions he wanted to hide in his eyes vanished step by step, and he lost himself enough to believe this lie was reality. However, when the story reached its peak, Ursul suddenly stopped. The forced smile on his face slowly faded, replaced by a terrifying seriousness.
Silence suddenly enveloped the area. Not even the birds sang. Even the wind did not blow.
"It's all a lie," he whispered. Suddenly, his unstable mood revealed itself, and he burst into his chilling, uncontrolled laughter. "It's all one big lie!".
The tone in his voice was suddenly plunged into darkness. His muffled tone was stained with grief rather than joy once more. What he was telling his father now was not a success story, but a breakdown of ruin. He described how City Lord Uzai had turned him into a slave—not on those glorious stages, but tumbling like a jester before Uzai.
"He needed a criminal. But why me?! Why so cruelly?!".
His fingers clawed at the soil as he described how Uzai had married Ursul's own fiancée. He vomited his anger and laughed in pain.
"And his marriage to Famma?! Was that for the city too?! Lies!! All lies!!".
Ursul's greatest pain was not just losing, but how this loss had turned into an atrocity. His fiancée had died while giving birth to Uzai's child; neither the woman nor the child could be saved.
Ursul calmed down once more. As he looked at the rising sun, only grief remained on his face. But even now, he was not sure if what he possessed were true feelings. All he knew was that he felt these emotions. Although these were not the only emotions he felt, Ursul knew he was sad.
"I was just watching from afar," he said with resentment. "It was my luck that they didn't care about me. Perhaps they enjoyed seeing me witness my fiancée giving birth to someone else's child.".
Uzai had arrived at the birth in the final minutes. He was still icy cold and indifferent, as if the child being born there was not his own. When Famma died and the child was removed from her dead body, the only expression he showed was disgust. Such a sight disturbed him, but it did not make him sad.
"But it broke my heart. Even though it wasn't my child.".
The first difference between the past and the present had been established that day. Although a broken Ursul, lacking even Core Realm cultivation, had not tried to return to his past, fate had other plans.
Though his laughter made people laugh, it also sowed a seed of grief. That day, Ursul saw the source that sowed this seed.
"My friends?" Ursul asked suddenly, answering his own question with that same clownish laughter. "They turned their backs, father. I thought they would fight with me against Uzai after your death. They just watched.".
Uzai was not a weak Lord. He had been in the army for a long time and had lived for centuries. He held high authority in the army. Fighting against him would not be easy, and the young clown was aware of this.
As Ursul writhed in pain, his aura began to grow heavy. Under normal circumstances, the progress of a Sage whose core was shattered would stop, or their lifespan would end shortly. After all, if all your cores in the Sage Realm are destroyed, your cultivation will be limited only to the peak of the Origin Energy Realm. Of course, if you have lived long or spent significant time in the Sage Realm, your body will be much stronger, and since you know Sage techniques, it will be difficult to be seen as someone just in the Origin Energy Realm. Nevertheless, your lifespan will not be very long, and it is very likely your body will fail to recover from such an injury. Ursul had also reached the Sage Realm during the period he challenged Uzai after his father's death. Uzai tore out his single Tao-connected core and turned him into a clown.
But Ursul was not an ordinary cultivator. He experienced an enlightenment fed by the Tao itself. A man-made intervention—even a Lord's anger—could not tear away that essence coming from the Tao. His body could be killed, his core could be divided into a thousand pieces, but that Tao enlightenment etched into his soul could not be destroyed.
With the deaths of Famma and the child, the behavior of his city toward him, and the betrayal of his friends, Ursul saw horizons he never expected to see. A significant amount of time had passed since then, but Ursul's emotions had not weakened; they had grown more intense.
The chaotic Sage aura he emitted as he tried to stand up was nothing like the pure and orderly energy emitted by Mais or other Sages. Ursul's aura was suffocating, sucking the surrounding air like a pitch darkness. More importantly, Ursul's aura was sorrowful. He affected his surroundings along with himself.
The clown laughed again. This was now a reflex occurring beyond his will, etched into his soul—a habit he could not escape. "I am so lonely," he murmured. "I wish you could hear me, father.".
Under the sunrise, leaning against the tree, Ursul's aura changed step by step. Blood flowed with the makeup, and something within Ursul changed.
Something seemed more... understandable.