The Tale of the Enlightened Vajra

It is often said that when one's mastery of the Qi-cultivation reaches its peak, they can set things in motion from a distance; with every breath, the rustling of the forest seems to answer them. As Zhang Ling pointed his sword, the door of the Greenwood Residence suddenly swung open. In that instant, Zhang Ling's heart leapt with joy, but he quickly composed himself as two figures slowly emerged from within.

After tending to his wounds, Yang Xiao had changed into a fresh set of simple clothes. Zhang Ling lowered his sword and met the two with a steady gaze. Lin Rui looked gently at Yang Xiao and said, "Since you’ve made up your mind, just give it to him."

Zhang Ling regarded Yang Xiao with some confusion as the latter handed him a book. On its cover, three bold characters proclaimed "Diamond Body." Zhang Ling asked, "A martial arts manual?"

Yang Xiao nodded with a light smile. "You could call it that. But it is not a martial technique—it’s a secret art for tempering the body, for prolonging your breath. If you ever find yourself against an evenly matched foe, endurance will be the deciding factor. Don't worry about trying to take on too much at once. What swordplay you've picked up so far isn't considered advanced; the more duels you fight, the more skilled you'll become."

Seeing Zhang Ling’s indifferent expression, Yang Xiao continued, "Don’t underestimate the Diamond Body. It was created by a grandmaster of our Gold and Silver Sect, someone who devoted himself to the study of secret arts beyond ordinary martial skills. This Diamond Body was the culmination of his life's work. Even someone as talented as myself needed more than ten years to master it."

Zhang Ling paid no heed to Yang Xiao’s self-praise; what piqued his interest was the mention of that grandmaster. That alone settled his desire to learn it, yet he still maintained an air of casual indifference. "It’s passable, I suppose," he said.

Yang Xiao, seeing Zhang Ling mimicking his own attitude, simply chuckled. He then extended a finger; the wound was gone, and a drop of golden blood slowly welled up at his fingertip. He touched Zhang Ling’s forehead, and the golden drop seeped instantly between his brows. In a moment, Yang Xiao’s lips turned pale, his voice growing faint and wistful: "With this, my debt to you is repaid. As for Qin Yi, you’ll have to guide him yourself."

Zhang Ling shook his head, troubled. "Anyone can see the knot in his heart. No matter what outsiders say, it’s useless."

Yang Xiao replied, "Riding, swordsmanship—you said it yourself, he came to you for both. In a way, you owe him. Whether you choose to break through his shell is up to you. I won’t press you. All meetings in life are fated; how much we can keep depends on the choices we make."

Zhang Ling fell into deep thought. He had planned to remain uninvolved, yet when the moment came to make a choice, he found himself at a loss. Looking up, he saw the two had already walked far away. He shouted, "Why don’t you go talk to him yourself?"

Standing alone, only a helpless laugh drifted faintly back from the distance.

"Because I can’t beat him!"

Zhang Ling sighed helplessly. "Favors are such a burden—one should never owe them!"

...

Hundred Flowers Manor stood in what should have been the height of its floral season, but the flowers had withered, leaving the grounds bleak and desolate; the air of paradise had faded, leaving nothing but a sense of loss. Yet beneath the lone willow before the young man, the tree stubbornly burst into bloom. The man gazed at it, as if seeing her once more. Lost in reverie, he was abruptly pulled back to reality by a pair of measured words drifting from behind him.

"Tears for the willow, longing for the past; now alone, I sit in emptiness."

Qin Yi turned sharply. It was the unconventional Zhang Ling. He wasn’t surprised; since they had shared drinks the other day, he no longer regarded this youth as a fledgling. At the very least, Zhang Ling had shown himself capable of thoughtful conversation.

Zhang Ling came to stand beside Qin Yi, glanced at him, then looked at the lone willow in bloom. He spoke softly, "There are usually three reasons a man wears a mask: to hide his flaws, to amuse himself, or to deceive others. But I’ve heard of a fourth—to hide his sorrow."

Qin Yi, momentarily dazed, slowly came back to himself and asked, "So what have you seen?"

Zhang Ling gave a faint smile. "It’s not what I’ve seen, it’s what I’ve witnessed: a wandering soul, still faintly warm."

After a pause, Zhang Ling continued, "Qin Yi, would you tell me your story?"

Qin Yi gave a wry half-smile. "Why, do you want to enlighten me?"

Zhang Ling fell silent. Qin Yi sighed again, melancholy settling over him once more. "It’s no harm to tell you," he began.

"In these martial lands, there was a sect with a remarkable disciple whose brilliance outshone all his peers. Within that sect was a junior fellow, Su Li, also gifted, but always living in the shadow of his senior. For years, Su Li regarded him as a beacon, longing to one day surpass him. Beyond all this, there was another haven—a real paradise, a place so many yearned for. Someone, I don’t know who, named it Mountain Encounter. As the name suggests, many star-crossed souls met there. Whether it was fortune or regret, I cannot say. According to our sect’s rules, I left to temper myself in the world. There, I met her—Li Menglian. Following the ways of the world, we pledged ourselves to each other atop the mountain. She said that when I saw a hundred flowers in bloom, she would marry me. She spoke lightly, but I took it to heart. I searched the world and finally found a secret art called the Hundred Flowers Guide. I returned as promised, but she broke her word. Before my eyes, I watched her fade away, only then learning she was born with a severed meridian. My heart shattered; my cultivation fell to the Profound Realm. My junior, unwilling to see me fall so far, even took the Pure Heart Bell she left behind. Years passed, and I managed only to recover to the peak of the Condensation Realm, never regaining my former strength, while Su Li reached the Returning Origin Realm before me. The difference of a single realm is a chasm. In the end, I could not even keep her memento safe."

Zhang Ling listened intently. Even after Qin Yi finished, his heart remained calm as still water, as if he were listening to a storyteller recounting a tale of star-crossed lovers—except the storyteller was now the man himself. The only thing that truly startled Zhang Ling was realizing that the man before him was the very grandmaster he had once looked up to, though now a shadow of his former self. But now was not the time to dwell on that.

Qin Yi gazed blankly at the sky, then smiled. "Suddenly, I feel like drinking again."

Zhang Ling replied, "You know as well as I do—drowning your sorrows only deepens them."

Qin Yi sighed. "What choice do I have? I can’t even hold on to her keepsake. And you—you barely know the first thing about martial arts."

Zhang Ling was not offended. In matters of martial cultivation, he had no authority to speak.

"I truly don’t know how to break through your bottleneck, but given your situation, I have two suggestions—if you’re willing to hear them."

Qin Yi turned, intrigued. "Let’s hear them."

Zhang Ling didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he brought two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. The sound of hooves quickly approached. Zhang Ling fetched a bowl of scallion pancakes from the kitchen, and the snow-white horse greedily devoured them, one bite at a time. Zhang Ling stroked the "gentle" beast as it ate.

Qin Yi watched in surprise, but smiled and said nothing.

As he fed the horse, Zhang Ling said, "Yesterday, when I was hungry and took a chicken leg, I found this fellow liked it too. Most of the time, its temper is terrible, yet it becomes docile when eating. All living things have their spirits; you can only empathize with them, not control them."