prompt
username + id: Alantica - 349242
name: Zhiyuan
name: Zhiyuan
Honor, Wisdom, Responsibility.
The three pillars of our sect. Remember when you picked me up as a child on the streets begging for any morsel of food. Rain poured down and I had nowhere to go. You said I had the talent to become an immortal. To get to the top.
Master, you opened up my future that day only to take it with you when you left. Oh master, where have you gone? Those three words I inherited from you weigh me down so heavily.
Master, I still don’t understand the words you left behind for me.
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The sun trickles into the study as the sun slowly rises to its highest point.
“MASTER!”
Zhiyuan bursts through the door full of energy. And for good reason. Today’s his 14th birthday. Smiling ear to ear, he heads over to the table his master was setting up.
“Oh Zhiyuan! Happy birthday!”
Zhiyuan’s master steps aside to reveal an array of Zhiyuan’s favorite foods.
Remembering what he was taught, he quickly bows to his master.
“You need to work on your etiquette. How can you almost forget to greet your esteemed master!”
Zhiyuan sheepishly scratches his ears.
“Sorry Master… but have you heard!?”
“Heard what! Of course I heard! My one and only disciple became the youngest to reach Nascent Soul!”
His master ruffles his hair.
“Let’s eat before all the food gets cold.”
Zhiyuan sits down at his seat as his master scoops his handmade wonton noodle soup into a smaller bowl and places it down at Zhiyuan’s spot. The smell gives immersive comfort to Zhiyuan. A home cooked meal.
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Zhiyuan is 16 now. He greets his master at his study.
“Master! I am back from my closed door cultivation!”
Zhiyuan’s master rushes over.
“Let me check your meridians to make sure nothing’s wrong.”
They move to the courtyard onto a sunny patch of grass. His master presses his hands on Zhiyuan's back and releases his refreshing qi energy. After a bit, his master pats him in the back.
“All good! Your qi has grown exponentially! I am proud to call you my disciple.”
Zhiyuan chuckles a little.
“Come, we shall celebrate! I made your favorite food!”
They head back inside where the wonton noodle soup sits, still warm. The smell reminds Zhiyuan of how far he has come. Breaking through to becoming an immortal and the youngest ever to do so. He looks up to his master as the sunlight gives him a warm halo.
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Why does time pass so fast? Why does peace always have to end? Why?
“SECT LEADER!”
One of the sect’s elders rushes into the study.
“It’s not looking good. I do not think we can stay neutral anymore. Both sides will cut us off!”
The frown deepens on his master’s pale face. Zhiyuan looks worriedly at his master.
“Master… This stress isn’t good for your health.”
Ever since his master defeated the demon cult’s leader, his health has been declining due to being poisoned with demonic qi. Now there’s a civil war between the orthodox sects.
“I will attend the meeting of the orthodox sects and set the record straight.”
“No master, I will go in your stead. Please rest up.”
Zhiyuan hurriedly prepares to leave. He wants to complete this as soon as possible so he can return to his master’s side.
The meeting commenced and adjourned slowly. Zhiyuan rushes back home but still makes a short stop at the base of the mountain to grab his master’s favorite restaurant wonton noodle soup. The atmosphere’s oddly tense however, giving Zhiyuan a bad feeling. He thanks the restaurant owner and heads up to the sect.
The air is solemn at the top, worsening Zhiyuan’s bad feeling. He rushes up to his master’s pavilion to find it empty.
“Master! Where are you? Master?!”
Zhiyuan’s eyes darts around before landing on a letter at his master’s desk. It was for him.
He rips the letter open.
“I am sorry my dear disciple, I must go. I want to see the world before my last breath. Please don’t worry about me. I will be safe, so please, protect the sect.”
Zhiyuan spins around as he hears faint sounds near the door. However, it was not his master, his only family.
The sect elders watch as the head elder walks to Zhiyuan.
“Welcome home Zhiyuan, or should we say Sect Leader.”
Zhiyuan stands frozen.
The elder continues, “It was what your master wanted.”
The wonton noodle soup sits cold now.
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(750/750)
