Chapter 655 - The Living Giant (III) (Patreon)

Ordinarily, he would have dodged it.

After all, it wasn't as though it was an attack made by a Shadow Emperor, concealed in thousands of layers of deceit. It was a rush of displaced water moving at a reasonable speed. Even without using any arts, he could have just jumped slightly to his right and away from the river and dodged it.

But Long Tao didn't dodge it.

Instead, he took on the full brunt of the rushing water as it blast at and past him, coating him as well as everyone but one person wet. That one person was Master, who deftly dodged and stood some ten yards from them as they remained standing trunks against the rushing waters of the river. It diverged further and further, soaking them up to their knees.

But they all stood, their eyes entirely occupied by a behemoth that had spawned from nowhere.

It was a mountain spanning the river's mouth and shooting upwards like a sword. Long Tao had to crane his neck to just barely make out the tip, shimmering under the blistering light of the sun. As far as mountains went, it wasn't much out of the ordinary; there was some shrubbery and some trees along the base, dirt and stone mixing midway through, and naked, white rock at the top. Compared to other mountains, it wasn't particularly large--be that in height or width--and it wasn't particularly scenic either.

In fact, had Long Tao come across it in their travels, he would not have given it a second glance. Just an ordinary mountain, in an ordinary world, housing nothing worthy of interest.

... but they did not come across it in the wild. Rather, Master sprouted it in front of their eyes. From a tiny little trinket... to the entire mountain.

Water kept rushing, yet none moved. Even as Master shouted at them from the back, and as the level of rushing water rose so much that Xing Feng and Light had climbed on Wan Lan and Lao Shun, none moved. Their necks remained bent, eyes pointed upwards.

Most, Long Tao reckoned, thought that Master had conjured up a mountain. But he knew precisely what it was--a Living Mountain. He'd never seen one, naturally. Then again, it was entirely likely that no one currently alive had seen one. There existed records, ancient and considered largely mythological, of mountains being shrunk to the size of one's palm, containing multitudes within.

A mountain that could house Songs of Dao, grow any herb under the heavens, and contain all things. A mountain that could stay in one place or move, a mountain that could be seen yet not understood or perceived.

Living Mountain.

Long Tao bit his tongue so violently that he felt blood spray out of it and coat his inner mouth. He did it to hold in a scream of violence that would have manifested into a question. He had to use Qi to restrain twisting his neck and looking at the man who was still shouting at them to get away.

Living Mountain.

He'd performed many miracles--so many, in fact, that Long Tao's leading theory about Master's identity was that he was a literal, physical manifestation of Dao. That Dao itself, sensing the disturbance in the world, had conjured itself into a consciousness and was taking charge of the cleansing.

There were limits, were there not? Or, Long Tao reckoned, there at least ought to be. Limits to what one man can achieve. Limits to what one pair of hands can twist and conjure.

Even at his strongest, when he had the Upper Heavens quaking underneath his fists, even when he had thousands of sworn Brothers and Sisters who would have marched to war with him, even when his spatial rings were overflowing with spirit stones and heavenly artifacts... there were limits. Limits to what he could do, to what he could obtain.

He could not undo so many things that broke him.

He could not save so many people that he loved.

He had to watch his children suffer in agony, screaming until their last breath, because he was just one man.

He had to give up everything, had to dissolve ever bond, every piece of himself, and become a ghoul stalking the night... because he was just one man.

Why did it feel, against all common sense, and against all odds, and against everything he spent millions upon millions of years believing... why did it feel that, had Master been in his shoes, none of those things would have come true? He would have had just the right pill to save Sha'er from dying in his arms. He'd have had just the right artifact to cure Ae'er from Immortal Toad Venom. And bonds his Master would have forged would have never been severed by the Heavenly Court.

When the Upper Heavens would have twisted themselves to kill him, they would have all come out, thousands in tow, and fought.

He lowered his head, looking at the rushing waters foaming against him. Was he truly Dao? No... there was no way that was possible. If his Master were Dao incarnate, Long Tao would have died a long, long, long time ago at his hands.

It was unfair, he felt. He fought it, the deep, dark thoughts. Unfair how it seemed he had everything in his hands... and seemingly didn't earn any of it. When Long Tao first began cultivating, he spent the first decade without even seeing a spirit stone. Everything he ever had, down to the last blade of grass, he had to bleed for. He had to kill his Brothers and Sisters just because he needed to earn resources. He had to become something unrecognizable.

... was this Dao showing him a mirror? Telling him that he didn't have to do any of those things? That, had he been truly worthy, it would have happened to him, too? If so, he chuckled inwardly, it was cruel. Cruel beyond cruelty. He had been well aware of his shortcomings, of his failings, of the incalculable number of sins weighing upon his soul. He didn't need a mirror of solemn perfection.

He looked up and glanced over his shoulder; some of the kids had woken up, rushing over to the man and barraging him with a thousand questions.

Long Tao was angry. Angry with himself. Because he knew his Master was not perfect. Because, in his own way, he had earned all of these things. In battles that neither he nor anyone else were privy to. In silence detached from all else. He wasn't perfect, and perhaps seeing how much others believed that weighed on his soul. To live up to the image the kids had conjured up of him...

He sighed, looking back up at the mountain and moving the wet hair plastered against his forehead away. In so many ways, Long Tao realized, he was unworthy. A child still feeling the sting of emotions. Pettiness. Jealousy. Bitterness. All the things he accused the Court of... he was embodying. In a morbid way, he finally understood why they chased him until the world's end so indiscriminately. Coming eye to eye with something so far greater than yourself... it changes a person. Either they become humbled and welcome the change, or they become defensive and fight it.

He couldn't help but chuckle, wondering how the last few friends that he had would react if they saw him like this. If they saw him feeling anything at all. Would they jest? Joke? Wonder if he'd been taken over by some kind of a parasite? Chastise him?

He'd never learn, for they all lay buried or burned, their names scratched from the annals of history. Though he was ashamed of many emotions, he would never be ashamed of his anger. There will come a day, he knew, he would use it to scream the names of everyone he lost as he carves up the cause of that loss into countless pieces.

For now, however... he ought to move out of the water and ensure that the concealment array he'd set up instead of searching wasn't obliterated as he wasn't exactly expecting the man to summon a literal mountain from his spatial ring.

Aah, Master, his thoughts wandered. You may really become the death of me...