"Master Silva?"
"Master Silva!?"
After hearing no response, Zhuli opened the door and entered the bedroom, only to immediately freeze. Zhuli's yellow eyes widened as her stoic visage cracked, her sense of smell confirming her worst fear before her vision picked up on the deathly stillness of Silva's body. The smell of poison and death still lingered in the air despite the open window allowing the sunrise to illuminate Silva's resting visage. For a moment, Zhuli's overwhelming grief was replaced by a sense of relief, as for the first time in over eighty years, she saw a look of utter peace on Silva's face.
While he hid it well, Zhuli had spent every day with Silva; she knew the severity of his pain, how every movement had to be taken with care, even before his body started to succumb to his age. Walking over, Zhuli knelt next to Silva's bedside, and her eyes shifted from his face to the folded piece of parchment clasped in his hands. Reaching out, Zhuli's fingers gingerly pulled the piece of parchment from Silva's grasp and began to read.
[Insert personal Letter]
As she read the final words, Zhuli's tail stilled, coming to rest against the floor and curling around her knees, while the ears atop her head drooped, conveying the overwhelming emotions that Zhuli's face failed to display.
When Zhuli finally felt that she could move again, she gingerly stood up and leaned over Silva, taking a moment to ingrain every last detail of his face before bending down and pressing her lips against his.
Zhuli lingered for a moment, despairing at the absence of warmth she had always longed to pass between them before pulling away.
With a reverence, Zhuli wrapped Silva's body in the bedsheet before lifting him out of the bedroom. With silent steps, she walked through the prison that her master had turned into a home for both of them. And though Zhuli had spent the last eighty years within their confines, she would not miss them. The walls were absent of the benevolent spirit that had imbued them just the day before.
Opening the door to the garden, Zhuli traced the path her master had taken several times a day to create the Eden that surrounded her. Eventually, she arrived at the center of the garden, a small clearing dominated by a singular tree —a bonsai —the first plant that her master had cared for. And like all things under his care, the tree flourished, its pale, twisting trunk supporting a massive canopy that rose to tower above Zhuli even when her ears were erect and alert.
Kneeling to the earth, Zhuli gently placed Silva's body on the ground before using her powerful hands to dig a shallow grave. The somber act took nearly an hour, but after lowering Silva's body into the grave and covering him with a fine layer of dirt
Zhuli sat by his grave, letting her mind fill with pleasant memories that now only belonged to her. And as she remembered Zhuli realized that she had lost something far more than just a companion.
Caring for Silva had been her sole purpose, her motivation, to be better for him. Now that he was gone, what was left for her? What promise did freedom hold when she had only known servitude?
Before Zhuli could begin to contemplate such a profound question, the air around her stirred, influenced by an invisible but very much tangible force. The slight shift was all the warning Zhuli received before a wave of Qi erupted from Silva's grave.
The Zhuli's ears and tail stood on end as a powerful aura radiated from the freshly turned soil, rippling through the air in waves. However, while the aura's intensity made Zhuli cautious, there was no hostile intent behind the projection. Instead, the aura began to harmonize with its environment, impressing itself like an ink stamp on canvas. For a moment, Zhuli believed that the presence would simply merge with its surroundings and fade away, becoming indistinguishable from the natural harmony.
But then a third presence made itself known, one that surged forth like a raging inferno. However, this aura didn't radiate heat or warmth; instead, it roared with the untainted expression of life.
With a wide gaze, Zhuli stared at Silva's bonsai as its pale trunk suddenly lit up with a radiant golden light in the form of hair-thin veins, 'No, not veins, roots.'
The golden pathways ran down the bonsai's trunk and into the ground, but their radiance could still be seen from the surface. Like the creeping vines of ivy, the golden roots were spread through the entire garden. Still, Zhuli noticed that they were particularly dense around the other plants and trees, creating a network that connected every single living thing into a singular entity.
Zhuli was in awe, but a flash of movement broke her reverie, and she looked down as a swarm of golden tendrils shot towards Silva's grave, more specifically, his body.
A surge of panic ignited inside Zhuli. Silva had finally found the peace and respite he had longed for; how could she just sit idly by and let that be taken from him?
Zhuli buried her hands into the ground, aiming to physically tear out the roots, but the overwhelming aura of life rebuffed her attempts like a vengeful guardian burning her hands like a scorching flame. Still, Zhuli wouldn't be denied so easily and started clawing great chunks of earth out from the ground, and in a matter of seconds, exposed Silva's body.
Zhuli's eyes widened as she peered into the grave; the golden roots had torn the sheet covering Silva's body to shreds. They had then infiltrated his flesh, worming their way under his paper-thin skin and spreading to cover nearly every inch in a dense, intricate network.
Confusion, rage, and fear surged through Zhuli's body as her mind raced, contemplating what she should do. But before she could act, the bonsai's aura surged, growing from an inferno into a brilliant sun. And like a call to war, the entire garden responded, as every tree, flower, and bush lit up with their own golden auras. Compared to the bonsai, most barely qualified as smoldering embers. Still with enough embers, an entire forest could be burned to the ground.
Each spark of life nestled within every flower and blade of glass was then pulled into the network of golden roots, causing their light to become blinding. But such a stunning sight came at a cost. As the spark left, death crept in to fill the void. Zhuli watched as the grass and flowers withered and wilted, vibrant colors turning to harsh brows and metallic greys. Meanwhile, the robust trees lining the very edges of the garden collapsed under their own weight as branches and trunks rotted from the inside out, crumbling like dust.
"They're…burning their lifeforce?" Zhuli muttered in bafflement as she watched the garden decay around her in the blink of an eye. The only thing that remained unaffected was the bonsai, which flourished as it drank in what amounted to hundreds of years' worth of vital energy from its fellows, causing its leaves and trunk to glow like a fallen star.
Zhuli couldn't help but tense as she stared at the tree. There was only one explanation for what was occurring, though acknowledging it only made Zhuli more confused, 'How did I never sense it before now? How could I have not known that this bonsai possessed such a powerful affinity?'
Zhuli's hands drifted towards her back, but she was halted midway as the awakened bonsai pulsed and all the golden light gathered within its leaves and trunk suddenly shot down and into the only golden veins left, the ones that had embedded themselves into Silva's body.
There was no time for Zhuli to react as the golden life force surged through the roots and entered Silva's flesh. The effect was immediate as Silva's body stirred, his sunken skin starting to swell and regain its dark tawny color as a wave of vitality infused his flesh. Flesh that filled his frail frame with youthful muscles, smoothing out deep wrinkles and liver spots. At the same time, Silva's wispy hair regained its fullness, becoming long golden strands with the texture of spun wool that shimmered with a brilliant luster.
In complete shock, Zhuli watched as Silva went against the flow of time, transitioning from an emaciated corpse to a young man in his prime, but the process wasn't complete.
The remaining golden roots outside of Silva's body started to writhe and slither, pushing even further into his newly regenerated flesh. Once they were fully seeded, a final flare of golden light appeared, and the roots vanished, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.
Zhuli didn't dare breathe as she stared at Silva's still form lying within the earth, hoping for the impossible.
The soft creek of bending wood stole Zhuli's attention, and her eyes glanced over just in time to watch the bonsai, now rotted and lifeless like the rest of the garden, collapse its trunk, nearly snapping in half.
Zhuli's earlier weariness of the Spirit Herb had vanished. She was now confident that the tree's actions were an ultimate sacrifice, trading its lifeforce and the lifeforce of the entire garden to reverse the toll of time on Silva's body. But there was no possible way that they could possibly restore-
"Z-Zhuli? W-why…why am I in the ground?"
Zhuli's ears pivoted towards the sound, quickly followed by the rest of her body, as she stared down into the grave and found Silva's eyes staring back up at her.
"M-master?"
Silva slowly sat up, and his eyes went wide as for the first time in nearly a century, his body was free of pain and weakness. In fact, Silva could feel an unbridled strength coursing through him.
"Zhuli, what happened to me?" Silva asked as he grabbed the sides of his own grave and lifted himself from the earth, "I-I remember last night, I took enough monkshood to kill an oxen."
"I know…I could smell it in the room," Zhuli said softly, her voice distant as she continued to stare at Silva, "And then I buried you in the garden like you asked."
Silva paused as he stood next to Zhuli and looked around, his eyes wide as he took in the wasteland that used to be his garden—decades of tireless effort and care gone as if they had never existed.
For a moment, a deep sadness and loss filled Silva's eyes before a realization seemed to alleviate his pain, "I see…thank you."
Silva bowed his torso, nearly touching his knees, and his head dipped in respect, "I shall ever be indebted."
"Master?" Zhuli asked, wondering if Silva's mind had been spared the same treatment as his body.
Standing back up, Silva looked over at Zhuli. His dark brown eyes were crystal clear with the vitality of youth, but they possessed a depth that seemed unnatural coming from such a young visage. "Zhuli, if I remember correctly, I severed your contract in my will. You are subservient to nobody and have no master."
Zhuli froze at Silva's words as panic spread through her body, but before her mind could completely recede, he spoke again, "So as equals, when I make a request, it is as a favor, not an order. Do you understand?"
After a second, Zhuli nodded, and Silva smiled, "Good, then may you please contact Elder Fal; there is much that needs to be discussed."
"Yes, Ma-Silva," Zhuli answered, pausing to correct herself before she turned and walked back into the manor.
Left alone in the garden, Silva stood still for a moment, unmoving as he finished adjusting to sweeping changes throughout his body. Silva estimated that, physically, he was now twenty years of age. But beyond that, there was an underlying current running through his entire body, one that he could trace as it moved through impossibly small channels that felt both permanent and ephemeral.
Closing his eyes, Silva cleared his mind just as he had done so many times before and opened his senses. The normally still and tranquil Qi that infused his pavilion was gone; instead, several restless currents rushed in to fill the void left by his rebirth. Turning his attention away from the streams of Qi, Silva cast his gaze inward toward his spiritual body, the form that housed his meridians, pathways, and dantian.
There existed twelve main meridians, one on each hand, foot, eye, and shoulder, one for the stomach, the heart, the spine, and a final one for the third eye. These meridians acted as gateways, absorbing Qi during cultivation. The Qi then flowed through the pathways before being stored within the dantian, the core of any cultivator, and the spiritual equivalent of the heart.
While Silva had read in various manuscripts that the spiritual body in its infancy was supposed to appear almost translucent, his was the exact opposite. Silva's meridians and pathways were clogged with a viscous, black, tar-like substance, the remnants of the poisoning he had survived as an infant.
It was a sight that had once caused Silva great agony and heartache as he mourned a future and fate taken from him. But now, for the first time, as Silva gazed at his spiritual body, he felt something other than soul-crushing despair.
'So this is what I sensed,' Silva mused as he stared at the seemingly infinite number of golden silk-like roots running through his spiritual body, 'I have truly been given a second chance at life.'
Silva inhaled as he focused on the golden roots, brushing his mind over their collective mass and sensing how they seemed to connect to every pore on his body. For a moment, everything was still, then Silva exhaled as he manifested his will, 'Open.'
From one instant to the next, Silva's body was flooded with Qi and awash in a golden light. Every single root had transformed into a miniature meridian; individually, they barely managed to pull in a trickle, but their combined might saw an ocean flooding into Silva's dantian.
The shock from the first drops entering his spiritual heart nearly threw Silva from his meditative state, as strength unlike anything he had felt before rippled through his body.
'So this is what the first step feels like.' A broad smile stretched across Silva's lips as an epic known by all echoed in his mind, 'At first, man is but clay beneath the sky.
He must forge a vessel, tempered by Heaven's breath, so that his spirit may endure the currents of eternity. And when the spirit and vessel become one, a gateway is formed, revealing Heaven's Will. And within this will must he behold the myriad creations, Sun and moon, star and storm, stone and stream. For through their patterns is the way revealed. These Creations must take root within, until man is no longer shaped by the world, and instead, himself becomes the sculptor of his own temple. Once enshrined, he must impose and establish his truth upon the earth. So that the path is not only known within, but seen and judged by the heavens.'
The Epic of Ascension described the ultimate journey of a cultivator, with each verse alluding to the five realms of ascension. The first is the Body Tempering realm, where the physical and spiritual bodies merge, creating a vessel capable of transcending the limitations of a mortal body.
That was the sudden surge of strength that Silva experienced as the Qi entering his dantian tempered his body. However, even though he had never cultivated successfully before, Silva couldn't help but be a bit shocked at how quickly his body seemed to be responding.
'Cultivation is a path a vast majority will never step upon, and of those who do, an even greater percentage will never surpass the body tempering realm. To have even the slightest chance of reaching the upper realms, one must possess luck, fate, fortune, talent, and dedication as they face increasing bottlenecks that can take centuries or even millennia to surpass. But strength and prestige are powerful temptations that few would willingly pass on. It took a brush with death to break their spell over me.'
The flow of Qi streaming into Silva's body slowed, 'But now that I've been given a second chance, should I blindly follow their promises once more? What purpose do they truly serve?'
With hardly any warning, Silva found himself at a crossroads. For so long, his options had been limited because of circumstances beyond his control. Now, Silva had been given the exact tools he needed to rewrite his fate. But he wasn't naive. Silva knew the pursuit of anything came with sacrifices and hardships. Despite his unfortunate circumstances and restricted upbringing, Buhara ensured that Silva never went wanting, even with the few desires he had.
'Must I make something of this new life of mine, or is my mere existence reason enough?' Silva pondered as the flow of Qi slowed even further, reducing to a mere trickle as his conviction wavered before it hardened in an instant, and the whirlwind of Qi entering his body surged, 'Perhaps if this life were mine, to do with as I pleased.'
Images of the desolate wasteland his garden had become flitted through Silva's mind. It shouldn't have been possible; defying death was a power beyond comprehension. But somehow Silva's had been restored by the most mundane of heaven's creations, 'But they gave me this life, and restored my connection to the heavens; to squander such an opportunity would be the height of ingratitude. So instead I'll live it to the fullest and utilize every shred of potential gifted until I reach my limits.'
As Silva's convictions soared, the faster his spiritual roots pulled in Qi from his surroundings. Beyond that, Silva's body was acting like a sponge, greedily absorbing the benefits of steeping in heaven's essence.
"Master I-" Zhuli paused in the doorway to the garden as she returned from her task, only to find the impossible.
Silva stood exactly where Zhuli had last seen him, his eyes were closed, and his posture was relaxed with a serene look on his face. But he had become the eye of a storm, not one that could be seen with the eye or heard as it howled past the ear, but felt.
Zhuli could feel the surrounding Qi being pulled towards Silva and into his body like water down a bottomless chasm.
'W-what is he doing?!' Zhuli panicked as she shot forward, reaching Silva's side in an instant and extending her hand towards his shoulder. Though before her fingers could graze his body, Silva's eyes shot open, rooting Zhuli on the spot, "Is something the matter, Zhuli?"
"Y-you were cultivating," Zhuli stammered out a reply, half expecting Silva to collapse with every passing moment, "B-but you seem to be fine."
Silva nodded once, and the Qi around them stilled, "I've been given an even greater blessing than a second life; my fate has been rewritten."
Zhuli stared at Silva for a moment before a broad smile spread across her face, "There is no one more deserving to receive such a gift…I am truly delighted."
"Thank you, Zhuli," Silva replied with a faint smile, "Now what were you going to say?"
"Elder Fal is on his way and should be here any minute," Zhuli answered, dipping her head. "I did not tell him specifics, only that something has occurred and his discretion is needed at once."
"Good," Silva approved, "I shall get ready to receive him."
"Then I shall go prepare-" Zhuli started, only to be interrupted by Silva's raised hand, "You are no longer a servant, that chapter of your life has closed."
A pained look flashed across Zhuli's face, "W-why, why do you no longer need me? Why are you pushing me away? I've never wanted anything more than to stand by your side. Is that truly too much to ask?"
Silva stared into Zhuli's eyes for a long moment before he answered, "Because I do not want to love a servant who has only known these four pavilion walls. I want to love a woman who has seen the world and can still make space in her heart for me."
Zhuli's eyes widened as Silva's words embedded themselves into her soul, "B-but I love you already."
"But you may have another love, whether it is a person or a purpose, that can fulfill you more than I ever could," Silva explained calmly, "Besides, the Silva you fell in love with no longer exists; I have changed, and so must you. Do not think of this as an ending, but a beginning. Both of us must grow into a person worthy of being loved wholly by the other."
Silva's words stung Zhuli like salt water across a fresh wound while betrayal, longing, and frustration ate away at her like worms. But for all of her anguish, Zhuli could not find the conviction to reject Silva's assertion. His words rang true with a startling level of insight, but Zhuli expected nothing less of her former master.
Mustering her will, Zhuli swallowed the bitter pill that Silva had placed on her tongue, as the despair in her eyes hardened into resolve, "Then I will do my best to become that person."
Silva smiled, "Good now, if you'll excuse me, I must change my robes. I haven't stood this tall in quite some time."