Age 20 · Three months with Old Mu
The clearing had become his world.
Every morning, dawn. Every evening, dusk. In between, hours of breathing, meditation, and the relentless pressure of Old Mu's hands against his chest.
Gu Chen had lost count of the sessions. The pain had become background noise—still there, always there, but familiar now. Like a tooth that never stopped aching.
His power had grown.
He could feel it—the Nascent Soul realm waiting just beyond reach. One more breakthrough. One more abandonment's worth of power, and he would shed his body like a snake sheds skin.
But the abandonment hadn't come.
Old Mu still trained him. Still fed on him. Still smiled that hungry smile and said, "Good. Very good."
Something was wrong.
He's waiting, the Beggar said.
For what?
For you to be useful enough. Then he'll take it all.
Gu Chen pushed the thought away. He needed to learn. Needed the power.
"You're distracted."
Old Mu's voice cut through his meditation. Gu Chen opened his eyes.
The old man stood over him, expression unreadable.
"Three months," Old Mu said. "You've made progress. More than I expected."
Gu Chen waited.
"But progress isn't enough." Old Mu crouched, bringing his face level with Gu Chen's. "There's something you're not telling me. Something in your core. A... crack."
Gu Chen's chest tightened.
"I've felt it since the beginning. A flaw. A weakness." Old Mu's eyes bored into him. "Where did it come from?"
Gu Chen said nothing.
Old Mu waited. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Ah. A wound. A deep one." He nodded, almost approving. "Good. Wounds are power, boy. Never forget that. The strongest cultivators aren't the ones who healed—they're the ones who learned to use their cracks."
He stood.
"Tomorrow, we attempt the breakthrough."
That Night
Gu Chen couldn't sleep.
He lay in his usual spot behind the food stall, staring at the wrong sky, and thought about tomorrow.
Breakthrough. Nascent Soul. The realm where the soul leaves the body.
You'll be vulnerable, the Soldier warned. When the soul leaves, the body is defenseless.
He knows, the Beggar said. That's why he's waiting.
He's been kind, the Orphan whispered. Three months of kindness.
Not all kindness is kind.
The Monk's voice was faint but clear.
Gu Chen closed his eyes.
He dreamed of the monk again.
The temple burned.
Not in reality—in memory. The disciple stood in the ashes, robes singed, face streaked with soot and tears. Before him, the master lay broken, pinned beneath a fallen beam.
"Why?" the disciple asked.
The master coughed. Blood trickled from his lips.
"You were... useful."
"I trusted you."
"I know." The master's eyes were calm. Peaceful, almost. "That was your mistake."
The beam shifted. The master's breath stopped.
The disciple stood alone in the ashes.
Betrayal is the nature of love.
Gu Chen woke gasping.
The Monk's voice echoed in his skull.
He will do the same. They always do.
Gu Chen sat up, heart pounding.
Then I'll be ready.
Dawn
Old Mu was waiting in the clearing.
He looked different today—younger, stronger, more alive. The months of feeding had transformed him. His skin had color. His eyes were bright. His hands no longer trembled.
"You feel it," Old Mu said. "The breakthrough. It's close."
Gu Chen nodded.
"Today, you'll reach Nascent Soul. But you must do exactly as I say. No hesitation. No holding back." Old Mu's gaze was intense. "When your soul leaves your body, you'll be vulnerable. I'll protect you. But you must trust me completely."
There it is, the Beggar said.
Don't, the Monk warned.
Do it, the Soldier urged. Then kill him.
Gu Chen looked at Old Mu.
"Okay."
The process began.
They sat across from each other, knees touching. Old Mu's hands pressed against his chest—directly over the cracked core.
"Close your eyes. Breathe. Let the power rise."
Gu Chen obeyed.
The energy came slowly at first, then faster. His core blazed. His meridians screamed. The crack in his core pulsed—not with pain, but with something else. Recognition.
He's going to take it, the Beggar said. All of it.
I know.
Then stop him.
Not yet.
The power built. Gu Chen felt himself rising, separating, his soul straining against the bonds of flesh.
"Now," Old Mu whispered. "Let go."
Gu Chen let go.
His soul left his body.
For one breathless moment, he was free—floating above himself, above Old Mu, above the clearing. He could see everything. The market in the distance. The mountains beyond. The wrong sky, vast and eternal.
And below, his body: small, still, defenseless.
Old Mu's hands were still pressed against his chest.
But Old Mu's eyes were open.
And they were smiling.
There, the Beggar said. There it is.
Gu Chen watched as Old Mu's hands began to glow. The power in his body—his power, accumulated over months of pain and training—began to flow. Not back into his core. Into Old Mu.
All of it.
He's taking everything, the Soldier roared. GO BACK.
Gu Chen tried.
He couldn't.
His soul was free, but freedom meant separation. He could see, could feel, but could not control. His body was a vessel, and Old Mu was draining it dry.
The power flowed. His core dimmed. The crack widened.
And Old Mu grew younger, stronger, more alive with every heartbeat.
When it was over, Gu Chen's soul crashed back into his body.
He gasped, convulsed, curled into himself. His core—what remained of it—was a pale shadow of what it had been. The crack ran deeper now, darker, like a wound that would never close.
Old Mu stood above him.
He looked forty years younger. Strong. Vital. A cultivator reborn.
"You were useful," Old Mu said quietly.
Gu Chen stared up at him.
"I was curious, you see. A mortal with a golden core? Impossible. But you're not mortal, are you? You're something else. Something... broken." Old Mu tilted his head. "I wanted to see what made you tick. What lived inside that crack."
He smiled. Not the hungry smile. Something gentler. Almost kind.
"You were kind," Gu Chen whispered.
Old Mu's smile didn't waver.
"I was curious. There's a difference."
He turned and walked away.
Gu Chen lay in the dirt.
His body was empty. His core was cracked—more than cracked, nearly shattered. He could feel the edges of it, jagged and dark, barely holding together.
The voices were silent.
All of them.
For the first time in years, he was alone in his own head.
He should have felt relief.
He felt nothing.
Hours passed.
The sun crossed the sky. The clearing grew dark. Gu Chen didn't move.
At some point, he became aware of something above him. Not a presence—just a feeling. The weight of eyes.
He looked up.
His soul.
It was hovering above him, separate from his body. Not forced out this time. Natural. Easy.
Nascent Soul.
The breakthrough had come. Not because of Old Mu's teaching—but because of his abandonment.
The pattern held.
Gu Chen stared at his own soul, floating in the wrong-colored sky, and felt nothing.
They'll step over you too, the Beggar had said, so long ago.
They already have.
He stood.
His body moved, but it felt like someone else's. He walked out of the clearing, past the market, past the villages, into the wilderness beyond.
He didn't know where he was going.
He didn't care.
Behind him, in the clearing, a figure appeared.
Su Wan.
She stood where Old Mu had stood, looking down at the indentation in the dirt where Gu Chen had lain.
Her hand pressed against a nearby tree. The bark cracked.
"Four down," she whispered.
"Five to go."
She did not move for a long time.