Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today - Chapter 460

Chapter 460: Samsara

A yelp sounded from behind Hui. Startled, he half-retracted from the array and peered over his shoulder. Fei Hu came rushing at him, its eyes wild with concern. It stopped beside Hui and curled up protectively around him, whimpering at the destruction as the world crumbled. Stone tiles vanished into a void below. Cracks crawled up the walls. Pillars shattered and vanished into the depths. Concerned, Fei Hu pawed at Hui, wanting to pick him up.

Hui smiled. He put a hand on Fei Hu’s paw. “It’s alright. I’ve figured it out.”

Fei Hu lowered its head. It let out a soft cry, uncertain but trusting.

Hui plunged his senses back into the net of qi far below the floor. The tangled threads continued to fray, and as they frayed, the net disintegrated. From a net, it became more of a nest, the threads mussed and intertwined senselessly.

Rather than attacking or stopping it, Hui stood back, watching it closely.

Outside, the world continued to disintegrate around Hui. Fei Hu crouched over him, using its large body to protect Hui. A massive timber fell from the ceiling and struck Fei Hu on the shoulders. It whimpered quietly, but took the blow. Shingles rained down, and the floor crumbled. Fei Hu retreated toward Hui, but never let a single stone scratch Hui’s skin.

Watching the nest, Hui noticed one of the threads glowing brightly. He sent his senses toward it, observing. From above, he saw one of the valleys. Just like the secret realm-within-a-realm, the valley shook and crumbled. Boars ran rampant through the valley, parting the grain as they charged, screaming at the top of their lungs. The mountains that formed a protective bowl around the valley shuddered, on the verge of falling apart. Abruptly, a sharp, dark line bit into the surface of the largest mountain’s peak. The peak rumbled, then fell forward, tumbling down the mountain’s slope as an enormous boulder. The mountain crumbled around it, unable to withstand the weight of its own peak smashing into it. Stones as large as houses rolled through the valley. The ground trembled. Grains went flying. Boars screamed and fled in fear, darting out of the boulders’ paths.

As the first mountain shook apart, the other mountains followed. One after another, their peaks caved in and their walls slid down. Without the mountains to protect the valley, a sharp, sheer wind cut through, scything the grain to the quick. The boars clustered together, showing a brave face to the encroaching wind, but only for a moment before they, too, met a swift end. In moments, nothing remained but another flat patch of stone.

In his vision, Hui heard the distant cry of the beasts. One swooped overhead, peering down where the valley had been, then flew on. His consciousness wavered, drawn toward the beast.

Beside Hui, Fei Hu whimpered.

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Opening his eyes, Hui patted Fei Hu again. “If you have to go, then go. Don’t stay here with me. Keep yourself safe first.”

Fei Hu paused, then shook its head stubbornly and curled up around Hui.

Hui sighed. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, the tug gripped his consciousness again, and he returned to the world of the nest, of the intricate tangle of qi strings. The tug almost seemed to question him, asking if he wanted to come, if he wanted to see.

Hui hesitated, then nodded. If this is what I suspect it is, then this is an opportunity I might never see again! He flew toward the beast, and his consciousness merged with the beast’s.

The beast flew on, its wingbeats filled with purpose. One hunting ground had vanished, but there would be another. It knew all the best spots to hunt, all the plumpest prey. Beating its wings, it surged ahead, using the new, sharp wind to propel itself onward.

It reached the next hunting ground in time to watch the mountains crumble. Snorting to itself, the beast flew on. Unlike those prey, it wasn’t weak. A simple wind and some shaking would do nothing to injure it. There were always more hunting grounds. The land provided, and it was the king of that land.

Two hunting grounds later, something like anxiety sparked in the back of the beast’s mind. Nothing remained. Nothing but stone. No prey. No grains, to create future plump prey. No hunting grounds at all. The spark of anxiety grew and grew, until at last the beast turned back, hovering in the air for a moment.

Back home. Its cave. Were its pups safe?

The second the thought came to it, the anxiety burst into flame. It charged at the sheer wind, fighting it, now, with powerful wings that owned the skies. Over the wreckage of hunting ground after hunting ground, back toward home. A few times, other beasts cried out to it, some inviting it, others confused or lost, but it ignored them. The pups. The safe haven. Was it still safe?

Tall mountains appeared on the horizon. Trembling, but still intact. The golden glow of grain, reflected against the gold clouds. The beast hurried onward, desperate. The babies! Until it saw them, nothing could be certain.

Just as it reached the mountains, the first one crumbled. The rest followed, and the wind assaulted that place, that safe haven that had never been breached. The beast cried, screaming in terror. Ignoring its instincts to run away, it charged into the falling mountains, beelining for its pups. With every breath, it called to them, its calls colored by a terror it, the king of these lands, had never felt before. Stones hammered its body, battering it left and right, but it ignored the pain, ignored the blood streaking down its limbs and muzzle. Only one thought remained in its mind: its pups.

A sharp squeal caught the beast’s ear. It whirled. A clutch of pups ran toward it, already pummeled and bruised. It charged for them, but a huge boulder cut off its path. The scent of blood filled the air. Another yelp. Turning around, it barely caught a flash of the pups before they vanished, whipped away on the wind.

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Familiar scents filled the air. The beast stood up, alert, then raced toward the scents. It howled, a desperate sound.

Panicked yipping greeted it. Its pups peered out of a mostly whole cave, even as the mountain dissolved around them. From on high, a peak-sized boulder rolled toward the cave, nearly atop it already. The pups bounced happily, unaware of their impending doom. The beast threw itself toward the pups. It blocked the impact of the boulder, and everything went black.

Hui blinked, suddenly himself again. He looked at his hands. To die, protecting your young…

Is this my fault? Did I topple this world? But… it disintegrated on its own, before I could strike it. Was that its self-defenses? Or did I merely arrive at the wrong time?

The pull gripped him again. He bit his lip, but let it take him. A faint glimmer of his path materialized in his mind, a single ember of what could be. I’ve never felt this before. Even if it hurts, I can’t reject this experience. To reject it would be the same as rejecting my dao, and burning all my work away. Brows knitted, Hui let the pull take him.

A piece of grain bounced on the wind, until suddenly the wind picked up and uprooted it.

A pup cried out, searching for its parents that would never return, until a boulder smashed into it.

Proud and tall, the mountain sat unmoving for centuries, until the trembling reached it, too. It shook itself apart, falling under the forces of its own weight.

Screaming, a deer ran with the wind until its legs could carry it no more. It collapsed, and the wind tore it apart.

A black bird soared on the wind, racing along. It pecked at the bits of destruction blown about it, chewing them up one after another. Every time it paused, the wind beat at its body, and forced it to take to the air once more. It grew tired. Its wings grew sore. At last, it fell out of the sky, dead the same as all the others.

Over and over. One scene after another, death and destruction. They clawed at Hui’s mind, each one a personal strike against him. You did this. You destroyed us, they cried, all while he watched, helpless to stop them. With each scene, each life, Hui’s consciousness crumbled, a little bit of himself left behind in each of them. The entire world fell to ruin, and when there was nothing left, Hui drifted as the wind, chasing bits of red dust across the stone void.

The multitude had become none. The world fell to nothing. A stiff wind raced across flat stone, howling into the emptiness. Something drifted on the wind, something that might have once been a consciousness. Aimlessly, it blew along.

You cannot choose your path. All you can do is float along with the whims of karma. Give in and rest. Rest with all the others.

At the very ends of the world, the realm-within-a-realm merged into the stone void. The wind blew there, knocking over the last remnants of the palace, prying up the stone tiles, smashing the jade throne. One final living being remained. Emaciated and exhausted, a beast curled up tight, eyes shut, asleep to conserve its strength.

No—two. The wind whistled around the beast’s limbs and found another. Dried up and withered away, the man inside the beast’s grasp seemed as delicate as a fallen leaf, ready to be blown to dust. The wind rushed at him, ready to destroy what little remained.

The beast curled up tighter. It growled at the wind, unwilling to let it touch the man in its grasp.

The wind blew again. Sharp fragments of stone lashed at the beast, cutting its hide open. Even so, the beast refused to uncurl, protecting the body within its grasp.

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Why? It’s only a corpse. It, too, will be dust soon.

It… too…

The corpse’s eyes opened. A brilliant light flashed within their depths, and a dry laugh escaped from the corpse’s throat. A withered, bony hand flashed out and wrapped around the wind, caging in the wind’s will.

The wind struggled, fighting to escape, but the man grasped it too tightly. A net of qi threads caged it in, a net almost like the one that had contained the world at the start.

Hui narrowed his eyes at the wind, smiling dangerously. “Did you think I had died, Senior Wind? Or should I say… Fen Long?”